#like take responsibility for your belongings maybe but WHATEVER

[lavenderovercast]

FINE DINING

summary: shota has an unconventional way of helping you calm your nerves down when you're feeling out of your element at a party. relationships: fem!reader x shota aizawa tags & warnings: !! 18+ CONTENT, MINORS DNI !! established relationship, public sex, cunnilingus // fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, praise kink BABY, u get talked thru it <3 🍑 prefer to read on ao3? well, lookie here! 🍑

While you’re far from shy, you have never been a fan of parties. Not only because they have other people, but because you have to put so much effort into them. Especially when it’s something like a gala or ball, which you have… No experience with. Because of this fact, you’re holed up in some corner with a cocktail in hand and anxiety in your chest.

You smile at the occasional stranger you make eye contact with, but for the most part pray that no one actually notices you or takes the time to talk with you. It feels like your tongue might try to fall out of your mouth if you use it right now. 

Your outfit doesn’t help the situation much, either. It’s a lovely gown, really— with glitter tastefully applied to the fabric in a way that makes the clothing feel dreamy. And you know that you look good in the damned thing too, because the slit down the leg and the sweetheart neckline complimented you wonderfully when you looked in the mirror.

So it’s not a matter of discomfort with your outfit, but rather the fanciness of it all. It doesn’t feel like you belong, try as you might. 

“Nervous?” 

“You could tell?” You ask playfully, eyebrows lifting as you peek up at your husband over the rim of your glass. His lips twitch a little at your question, but he only nods his head in confirmation. 

“Kind of hard not to when I’ve watched you down multiple cocktails now.” He replies, making your smirk drop. Eesh, maybe you should keep track of how much you’re drinking. Or maybe this place just needs better liquor, because this is not helping. You roll your eyes in reply, lips twitching into the tiniest of smiles. 

“Yeah, well,” You mumble into your glass, averting your gaze sheepishly. “I’m not really used to… Any of this.” You make a vague gesturing motion, and then clear your throat before taking another sip of your alcohol. From beside you, Shota gives an acknowledging hum, his expression thoughtful. 

“I’ve got an idea,” Shota states, making your eyebrows raise quizzically. Your expression shows your skepticism, because he offers a smirk as he continues. “Meet me in the restroom. It’s nothing bad, I promise.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, intrigued by the man’s vagueness and mildly concerned as to what he could have in mind. But you trust Shota with your life, so you let your lips quirk up into a little smile as you nod your head. He seems satisfied with your response, slipping away from you. Naturally, you follow after the man— making sure to keep some distance to have some subtlety. 

When you make it to the restroom about a minute after Shota does, you close the door behind you with a gentle ‘click’, looking at the man with curiosity. He’s leaned over the counter now, seemingly fixing up some of the dishevelled strands of his hair. A rare and interesting sight to bear witness to. Before you can comment on the action, though, he catches your gaze in the mirror. 

You smile in return, making your way closer to the man so you can wrap your arms around him. Chest pressed against his back, you tilt your head up with a hum. “So… Are you going to tell me the reason why you’ve brought me into the restroom?” 

Shota gives a hum, as though he’s considering how to answer you. Knowing him, he’s just doing it to prolong whatever amusement he’s taking from your squirming and curiosity. You can see it in the way the corners of his lips subtly curve up, until he shifts so he’s turned to face you. Rough fingers gently grasp your chin before his lips are on yours. 

A soft noise leaves you when he kisses you, your lips tugging into the smallest of smiles against his mouth. You hum, snaking your arms around the man’s neck as your eyes slip closed. You’re not really sure of where this is going, because it’s… Different of Shota to act so affectionately in public.

Well, if you could consider this public, anyway. It’s probably the closest you’re getting to any PDA, and you are perfectly content with that thought.

When your kiss only deepens, his teeth nipping carefully at your bottom lip, is when your suspicion and confusion, with a healthy dose of curiosity, really begins to rise. You’re able to push your suspicions and rising emotions to the back of your mind until you feel yourself being gently backed up.

You give a muffled squeak in surprise when your lower back gently hits the counter, moving a hand from Shota so you can try to stabilize yourself by gripping the edge. 

To be truthful, this position on this counter is awfully familiar to you. Something about Shota has, since very early on in your relationship, seemed to magnetically draw you into the man. To the point that him pressing you up against a counter like this is familiar. There’s a big difference with this time around though, because you’re in public. Shota clearly doesn’t mind this fact, but you want a moment to decide if you do. 

Cold hands brush against his wrists, careful fingers wrapping around them before pulling his hands off of your person. With his hands go his sweet lips and bitter tongue, and as per usual, it’s difficult to convince yourself to stay away from him. Even when you know something is up, and now your suspicions are waving around red flags. He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, and you can imagine there’s some worry in the way he observes you—as if he’s afraid he’s made you feel uncomfortable. But he’s always had a way of making you feel safe and secure, so you’re blunt with your questioning. 

“What the hell are you doing?” You question, raising your eyebrows at the man. Shota blinks, and then shrugs his shoulders a little. You swear you can see him fighting off a smile, the cheeky bastard he can be. 

“You’re tense,” Shota observes as though you haven’t known the fact for the whole night. “I can help.” 

“In a public bathroom?” You question with a quizzical eyebrow, tilting your head up to look at the man. There’s a mischievous smirk on his face as he nods— cheeky bastard. You feel the skin on your face grow hot as you squint your eyes at him. “You really want to take that risk?” 

“Sure,” He hums nonchalantly, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He places a chaste kiss against your skin, and you have to dig your nails into your palms to avoid shivering at the sensation. Shota really does know all the ways to make you melt. “Long as we’re quiet… They won’t even notice we’re gone.” 

You bite your lip, considering the pros and cons of getting frisky in a restroom. There’s a beat of hesitation on your end as you spare a glance to the locked door. The worst that can happen is someone knocks, so… Fuck it, why not. 

“For a hero, you sure like finding trouble.” You mumble playfully, your own lips tilting up into a smile before your gaze drifts to Shota’s lips. Those familiar feelings of love and want come hurtling back into your chest, and you find yourself leaning forward on your tiptoes. All so you can wrap your arms around the man’s neck and tilt your head up to him. Shota looks amused. 

“Mmm, only with you.” Is his mumbled response, and you can’t help flashing a grin before pressing your lips to his. With the urgency he was displaying earlier, you’re pleasantly surprised by the gentleness the man expresses as he leans into you, lips moving carefully against your own. The faint taste of alcohol and mint floods your tongue. In any other situation, you’d joke about the mint. 

The kiss is over as quickly as it’s started. Shota’s breath is hot against your skin as he presses his face into your neck, where you can feel him smiling against your now clammy skin. Adrenaline is beginning to pump through your veins, and you’d be a liar if you said that you weren’t very interested in doing this now. Any anxiety that you might still have is thrown out of your mind when Shota begins to kiss your neck. 

It takes him no time at all to find the sweet spot that has your fingers digging into the edge of the counter, your breath catching at the little sparks that flitter across your skin. You can hear a deep chuckle rumble from the man, but he doesn’t say anything as he focuses on leaving little hickies and marks across your previously unblemished skin. Unfortunately, this is a fact that you aren’t dwelling on. 

No, instead, you focus on the fact that his hands have wandered to your hips to pick you up and place you on the counter. Your legs dangle off the edge, but the surface seems stable enough. Shota’s hands are quick to wander from your hips to your thighs, a satisfied noise coming from him as his mouth comes off of your neck. 

You feel the dress being pulled up by Shota’s careful hands, and suck in a sharp breath when they wander up the skirt to your panties. He’s happy to pull them off and you’re happy to lift your hips a little so he can do so with ease. You’re even more happy when calloused fingers find your clit nearly immediately, making your mouth part open into a soft ‘O’ shape as your brain goes fuzzy with need. 

Little sparks and tingles dash across your skin as Shota sets a careful pace, familiar with what you prefer when it comes to these exchanges by now. He applies little pressure at first, and rubs slow, tight circles to start building you up. It’s when he starts to pick up the pace that you give a soft moan, much to his satisfaction. He seems to take it as his signal to pump a finger into your pussy, pleased with just how wet you are for him. 

Like always, he’s methodical and careful not to hurt you. He works his finger in and out of you slowly, causing more of those sparks and friction to light a fire in your belly. It’s when he inserts another finger that he starts to pick up the pace again, slowly stretching out your pussy with his digits. There’s the familiar sensation of adjusting to him, a dull ache that you’ve always enjoyed. 

“Fuck, Shota…” You pant, eyes growing half-lidded as you lean your head against his own. It’s hard to focus, despite how much you want to praise him for this pleasure. He hums, and you can feel him leave a gentle kiss against your skin. Something about his sweetness only makes the fire in your belly, your need for him, grow. 

“So fucking pretty for me,” Shota huffs into your neck, the words sending a rush of heat over your person. You can feel yourself clench around his fingers as he pumps them in your pussy, cooing softly as he stretches you out. “Look at my good girl.” 

The praise doesn’t fall on deaf ears. You give a little whine, pleased with the words rolling so sweetly off of Shota’s tongue as you lean forward, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. You feel him nuzzle his face against your head, whispered praises continuing to flood your hearing as your hips buck into his moving fingers.

You’ve fucked before, of course, but this is a different experience. In comparison to past encounters, it’s far more intense with the risk of being caught. 

And when Shota’s fingers curl in a ‘come hither’ motion that leaves his fingers grazing against your g-spot, you can’t help the pitchy whine that leaves your mouth. The sound causes Shota to lift his free hand so he can cover your mouth, but the low groan that you hear coming from somewhere deep in his chest tells you that he enjoyed the sound. 

His fingers don’t stop as he gently scolds you, voice raspy against your ear. “Gotta stay quiet.” The statement makes you huff softly, wanting to retaliate. He’s the one that had the idea to bring you both in here, why should he also be teasing you? Normally, you would tell him to be quiet—but your mind feels a little too foggy from the feeling of his thick fingers in your pussy to form words, let alone argue with him. 

You only manage to nod instead, tongue fat and heavy in your mouth again. Words would fail to describe how fucking badly you want the man to just push you up against the counter and fuck you silly right now, so you seem to subconsciously do your best to rip a hole into Shota’s shirt instead. You can’t help anchoring yourself to him, your fingers dug so harshly into the fabric of his shirt that your knuckles start to turn white as the pleasure increases. 

“That’s it. You’re doing good.” Shota coos, and another shiver runs up your spine. It takes everything in you not to whine, instead opting to dig your teeth into your bottom lip with a muffled sound.

It becomes increasingly more difficult to control your volume, however, when you watch your lover shift his weight so he can kneel in front of you. Rough hands grab at the hem of your dress, and your breath catches as he pulls them up just enough to reveal your pussy to the man. 

Shota doesn’t seem all that interested in keeping his mouth off of you for any longer than necessary, however. A blessing in disguise, really, because you think you would go crazy if his lips didn’t immediately start pressing hot kisses against your inner thighs. His hands move to your knees, carefully spreading your legs apart as you shift your weight on the counter. A gentle squeeze reminds you to be patient. 

It’s only when you are still that Shota comes closer to your aching cunt, his tongue feeling heavenly when he finally buries his face between your legs like he belongs there. Your breathing quickens as your hands lift to his head, fingers now digging into the man’s hair as his nose brushes against your clit.

His tongue laps at you for only a moment before he dives right in, his hands squeezing where they grasp you just a little tighter than they had before. 

Shota laps at you like a man starved, seemingly as desperate as you feel right now. The noises that are starting to fill the room are downright filthy, wet and obscene in a way that would typically embarrass you. But goddammit, does Shota’s tongue feel like heaven— and goddammit are you so very turned on by the eager groans that he’s providing you as he drinks you up. 

You still have enough sense in your lust-addled brain to slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound now threatening to rise up from your chest at the contact. Your anxiety at the thought of being caught in this lewd act is more prevalent than it was earlier, but it’s hard to try and stop the man when his tongue is buried in your cunt like this. The best you can do is try to make sure that you won’t be caught. 

A calloused finger finds its way back to your pussy, and you can’t help the low, muffled whine that slips past your lips again. You press your palm harder against your mouth in a desperate attempt to keep yourself quiet.

Shota seems more than pleased with himself, though, and you can imagine that the man would be smirking if he could. His tongue moves against your clit at an eager pace, his moving fingers matching the speed of the muscle in a way that makes your head spin. 

It’s just the right amount of friction and pressure to make you feel absolutely boneless, a skill that Shota has perfected over years of being with you. Your orgasm approaches quickly and suddenly, making little stars fill the corners of your vision as you gasp. A wave of heat and sparks comes rushing over you, and you can feel yourself shaking as your hips buck into Shota’s face.

Your fingers dig into the dark locks of hair on his head, nails barely grazing his scalp. You can hear a pleased groan from the man in front of you as he laps at you like you’re his last meal. 

The feeling subsides slowly, but leaves you trying to catch your breath as your grasp on Shota’s head loosens, before you’re gently running your fingers through your lover’s hair. His tongue doesn’t stop lapping at your overstimulated cunt until you’re gently pushing him away, your entire body suddenly feeling like jelly from your intense orgasm.

You’re a little nervous that you won’t be able to stand on your own, especially when Shota rises back to his full height and slots himself between your legs. He’s gentle as he brushes some hair from your face with his fingers. 

“Do you feel better?” Shota questions, his face warm with subtle affection. The sight of it makes you smile as you give a slow nod.  

“Sort of,” You mumble lazily, reaching a hand up to catch his wrist so you can press your head into the palm of his hand. “Might need to get my hands on you again when we get home, though…” 

Shota raises his eyebrows at you, and then chuckles as he tilts his head to yours. A gentle kiss on the forehead, and then the subtlest of smirks comes crawling over his face. “Well, I’m glad that was just an appetizer then.”

[purpledemonlilyposting]

Hey um, your views on stuff like incest kinks and age regression kinks are kinda confusing to me? It's relatively common for people who have gone through sexual trauma to develop psychosexual stuff like that, and those who are into it just... Roleplay it with other adults? They don't actually wanna fuck children or family members irl, in the same way that roleplaying being an animal during sex doesn't mean you wanna actually fuck animals. It's just strange to me to automatically declare someone a predator for something that only happens in their head and doesn't harm any actual children? Also just because someone is into that stuff doesn't mean it is what they mean when they say "kink at pride", I think everyone is pretty much in agreement that it refers to leather daddies and things that only involve dressing up in certain ways, which I don't think any children will get traumatized by. I hope this all makes sense, I just feel like a lot of the opinions I've been seeing about these topics are kinda acting on an immediate disgust response and assuming the worst case scenario instead of actually analysing the material harm done?

Anon. You've either been manipulated or are excusing fucked up shit yourself but listen up: the people online gooning to incest and kids are not doing it for "therapy". They are using that as an excuse to be a creep on main.

It's not "happening only in their head" when they're writing on Tumblr Dot Com that it would be super healthy for pedophiles to draw child porn for themselves.

Maybe you're compelled to be compassionate and open minded, a predator will take advantage of that. There is no low a sexual predator won't sink to. I assure you that you don't have to put up with someone's goonery in the name of being liberal or enlightened or progressive or whatever it is you're telling yourself. Because most of them get off on doing it in public and having useful idiots like you be their flying monkeys.

Any amount of wanting to fuck kids is fucked up and requires psychiatric treatment. I don't see anything swaying me from that opinion. I don't see what's wrong with having an "immediate disgust response" to that other than you're invested in training people to ignore their gut instincts around a shady sex pest.

Paraphilias always escalate, that's why the people who get caught with CP get caught with alot of it. More than they could even possibly consume. Thousands of tapes, terabytes of data, whatever form it's in. And at that point you're more animal than human.

People rarely mean leather daddies when they say "kink at Pride" because that's never been a debate. What they mean is "gay people are sex freaks so heterosexual kinksters belong at Pride too".

[mzcain27]

How do we set a curfew for my brothers but it’s not really a curfew because they’re 18 but something so they’re back at the house at a semi reasonable hour so my mother can actually get some sleep

[kooktrash]

UKIYO ✧ jeon Jungkook

summary: it’s the start of summer and there’s nothing better than dipping your toes in the sand and falling for a local boy who plays beach volleyball in his free time. he’s charming in a way you’ve never seen and you seem to understand each other better than one could imagine. both stuck in an awkward time of self discovery, you try to live in the moment and forget about your worries till they become too hard to ignore.

The Japanese word ukiyo (pronounced "u-key-yo") means "living in the moment" or "detached from the troubles of life".

✧ genre/au: summer romance, local beach boy!jk x city girl!y/n, [she/her, afab]

✧ 17.7k words

warnings: smut, fluff, ‘coming of age’ but they’re in their twenties, jk falls first. oral [f receiving]. unprotected bc they’re literally on a boat. hair pulling. jk is kinda rich boy. oc seems mean but she’s got mean vibes but just sassy and jk likes it. jk was previously engaged. law student jk. intimate missionary. jk is a volleyball player. think beach town vibes. his ex is kinda stuck up—all his friends are. jk is kinda lovesick puppy who needs aftercare lol

inspired by, Nicholas Sparks’ “The Last Song”

songs: tyrant — coldplay, mind over matter — young the giant, left hands free — alt-j, omg — suki waterhouse, sex drug etc — beach weather

✧

For a long time, summer was the only thing to look forward to in the year. The days were longer spent outside enjoying time with your friends and letting yourself sleep in until noon. As you grew older with more responsibilities that didn’t suddenly disappear when the temperature grew warmer, you began to lose feelings for the season. It made no difference in your life anymore and you longed for the days it would.

Maybe that’s why it was so easy for you to drop everything and leave your worries behind. A couple months in the sun, no stress, nothing holding you back.

”I still can’t believe I managed to convince you,” Your friend said for the third time in the last hour. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, again, “I still can’t believe it either, don’t make me regret it.”

Hoseok mocked you using a high pitched voice, turning the Jeep Wrangler into the driveway of a modern beach house, “How could you regret these next few weeks waking up to the waves crashing on the shore?”

”What magazine did you read that off of?” Your friend asked from the backseat, laughing to herself at his expense, “I hate when you talk corny.”

”Whatever, you guys are so ungrateful,” Hoseok jokes, pulling the car in ‘park’ and powering the engine off, “Next time I’ll invite someone else to come with—someone who I won't have to beg!”

”Boohoo,” You pretended to whine, getting out of the car and racing to get to your luggage first, “You love begging for me.”

”You wish,” He says with a scoff, “Hurry up and find your rooms, I want to get down to the beach as soon as possible.”

The beach was at its peak time of day where the sun sat the highest and almost every foot of sand was covered with people’s belongings. Not far from shore were rows of volleyball courts and crowds of people watching and as much as you wanted to avoid that busy side, it was the way to the boardwalk. You had no choice but to follow your friends in that direction. They were steps before you, already arguing about which store to go into first or what food stand you’ll go to but you were distracted by the large Ferris wheel in the back.

Maybe your focus should have been on the matches happening all around you but by the time you realized that it was too late. The white ball barely grazed your side when a tall figure headed straight into you with a loud thud.

A low grunt left your lips as you hit the sand with such a force that it physically ached for a moment. Your hands and face were practically covered in sand it was hard to acknowledge whatever gibberish your assailant spat out.

He didn’t have time to get a good look at you as he rushed to his feet, taking your arm and pulling you up abruptly, “Shit, I’m so sorry, I—“

“It’s fine,” your tone came out harsher than expected and it probably had something to do with the guy who loomed over you, and how embarrassed you felt. Up ahead your two friends were barely realizing you weren’t behind them and turning to find you, laughing once they did.

The stranger let his gaze trace over you with sudden curiosity, not at all intimidated by your attempt at a scowl. Now that he was looking at you up close, he had to admit he liked what he saw. He couldn’t help but grin nervously, “I’m sorry.”

His smile made you glare as you dusted sand off your jeans, “Really? I can’t tell.”

“I… it’s just, usually when there’s a ball flying people tend to dodge it,” he was walking backwards now as you tried leaving, he wanted to face you when he talked and it made his cocky smile all the more unbearable. You’ve just met the guy and he hadn’t given the best impression yet. Honestly, you’re just tired from the trip and you’re hungry so you blame that on your mood but you just want to escape this embarrassment of falling.

A scoff left your lips, “Are you saying that this is my fault? Maybe if you all played the game on the court, you wouldn’t have run after it.”

You were giving him attitude and yet he didn’t back down from returning it with a sweet smile.

“Jungkook!” Someone called from behind but the guy didn’t bother to even look back at the paused game. Instead he kept up with you, “You’re right, it’s partially my fault too so how can I make this up to you?”

You stopped walking, looking at him. You didn’t know him and he didn’t know you so there was no need to hold him up from his game any longer, “Don’t worry about it.”

“But I can’t go on like this,” The stranger, Jungkook, said, “Not until I know you’re not mad anymore.”

The way you rolled your eyes excited him in a good way. He wasn’t amusing enough for you and it was rare for him not to be.

“Jungkook! Come on man, the game!”

“Y/n!” Hoseok said loudly, “Hurry up, I’m starving.”

Just like that, the two of you walked away from each other and you had to tell yourself not to look back at him. You didn’t want to catch him doing the same before he went back to playing.

“Are you okay?” Hyeri asked, still laughing lightly, helping you shake off sand, “I was going to help you but then I saw you talking to that hot guy and I didn’t want to intervene.”

“So considerate,” you mumbled sarcastically, trying to hide your smile as you walked the steps up to the pier and forgot about whatever was happening on the sand.

The stranger really was attractive, and if he hadn’t toppled you over like it was nothing you might have stayed a little longer. When you spotted him below you couldn’t help but look him over. He wore a pair of blue and white striped swimming trunks and no shirt which gave you a good look at his muscular back and sleeve of tattoos. Compared to the players around him, he looked noticeably different from the rest and you kind of liked that.

“What are we eating?” You asked your friends who shrugged, still indecisive.

Hours after the sunset and Jungkook’s adrenaline from winning began to slowly settle down, he walked along the boardwalk with his partner. The two of them are trying to waste time for a while before their night plans come along.

“I know Yeaun is around here somewhere and if she’s here then that means Chae-hi isn’t far,” Jimin said looking around the crowded boardwalk while Jungkook followed behind lazily, “Which means a fun night for us so let’s find them.”

He could hear what Jimin was saying but he wasn’t truly listening. His attention had drifted away from the conversation the second he looked to the side and found a familiar silhouette in the distance. Well, not too familiar but he recognized it from when he crashed into you earlier.

You were with your friends at some jewelry stand looking over all the handmade bracelets and necklaces, such a short distance from him. He could easily make it over to you in no time.

“I don’t really want to see Yeaun,” Jungkook said, eyes trained on you. Jimin groaned in response, whipping back to his friend and shaking his head. He followed his line of sight and jumped in front of him.

“No, look over here, we’ve got plans,” Jimin said hoping to pull Jungkook’s attention away from some stranger, “We told Chae-hi and Yeaun we’d met them tonight.”

“No, you have plans, I never agreed to anything,” Jungkook said with a laugh, clearly amused. He tried to see if you were still there but when he looked back you were already walking away.

“Don’t be that way, think about me. Your best friend, who has been trying to get with Chae-hi for weeks now,” Jimin begged, making Jungkook sigh with defeat. He didn’t say anything as he motioned for Jimin to lead the way and went on with his life.

✧

There’s a story about how you found yourself moving into a beach house with your best friends for the summer. The opportunity sort of fell at your feet when Hoseok’s sister had to leave abroad for a couple months because of her job. She lived in a nice house on the beach that would need to be looked after and that’s when she decided to tell her younger brother about it.

Not long after, he came to you and Hyeri and asked if you wanted to join. It took a long time for him to convince you but when you realized how shitty life currently was back home, there was nothing holding you back.

Your first week has been fun getting to enjoy the warm water and sand between your toes. You’ve gotten into a bit of a routine in the area and you’ve begun to familiarize yourself with the roads and places. That’s probably why you were doing Hoseok a favor by helping him out today.

He’s busy taking care of some errands for his sister and asked if you could bring his car into the shop for some maintenance, considering Hyeri liked sleeping past noon, you had no choice but to agree to it all on your own.

“What can we do for you?” A guy in a dark gray button up and oil streaks across his hands asked you once you made it to the auto shop.

“Just an oil change.”

Jungkook had nearly forgotten about his encounter on the beach. There wasn’t much for him to remember anyway and he’s never been the type to hold onto something so meaningless. He carried on with his usual routine and busied himself away at work.

The shop he worked at was busy all of the time and it was a great distraction from whatever else happened in his life so he truly loved it. He loved getting to work with cars and getting his hands dirty. He worked with people he was friends with and sometimes, if he’s really lucky, someone who catches his attention will stagger in.

When he found you standing in the office with his boss signing papers he was visibly taken back. He had been too busy helping Namjoon take a wheel off a black Sedan, to notice when you came in but he was too late now. You were already finishing up whatever you were doing with Jin and leaving.

“I’ll be back,” Jungkook told Namjoon, tossing him the wrench he had been using and heading straight to the front.

You went across the street to the small diner and he had to think about this. Part of him didn’t feel the need to see you again, mostly because he was embarrassed by toppling you over and probably how he sounded. Part of him wanted to ask for your name, apologize and try and see if you’ll talk to him.

“I’m taking an early lunch,” Jungkook told him without much of a car as he hurried to clock out and leave for the diner.

You sat alone in a booth with your laptop open and scrolling through a website filled with job offers. It was partially out of boredom and a reminder that you needed to find somewhere for when you get back home. You could look for something in the field you used to study in but how far could you get with it?

“Excuse me,” he stood in front of you now, “I don’t know if you remember me from a few days ago but—“

“I remember,” you said blandly, looking up at Jungkook with a mixture of boredom and a small hint of possible curiosity. He looked very different with a shirt on, his abs weren’t as distracting but he still had an intimidating build. That’s why his pretty face surprised you under all that sweat and car grease. He was clearly one of the mechanics and has somehow made his way to you.

“Right, uh,” he swooped in to sit across from you, “I wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to knock you down and sometimes when I’m playing, I kinda get a little too excited so I’m sure I was just talking and talking.”

You’re assuming he meant how he followed after you and smiled so arrogantly when you looked visibly annoyed with him. What you don’t get is why he’s apologizing again, you weren’t still upset over that.

“It’s fine,” you reminded him with a confused look, trying to read what he was really here for, “You work across the street?”

“Yeah, I’m Jungkook,” He finally introduced himself, “I saw you earlier and it was time for lunch so I came to talk to you.”

You didn’t say anything for a while and the silence wasn’t broken until the waitress came and asked what Jungkook would like. He brushed her off with a ‘Whatever she’s having’ and looked at you curiously.

“Okay,” You’re definitely not from around here because he would’ve recognized you so just who are you? He cleared his throat awkwardly, “Um, yknow, usually when someone gives you their name you say yours back.”

“Y/n,” You said distantly, “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes, anything,” Jungkook sat straighter, almost reaching up to fix his hair but stopping himself. He wasn’t nervous or anything but you’re not speaking to him with the same flirtatious tone and it’s confusing him.

“What are some fun things you can do around here other than the usual tourist stuff?” You asked him suddenly, “You are a local, I assume.”

“You assume right,” Jungkook nodded as he bit his lip in thought, “I could always show you better than I can tell you.”

“You’re a funny guy, y’know?” You smiled, “But seriously, what is there to do?”

He’s pretty sure that was just a rejection so it took him a moment to bounce back from it and tried to catch himself from doing it again.

By the time the car was ready, you were paying for your meal and hurrying to leave while Jungkook ate and enjoyed the last of his break. For the rest of the day he found himself thinking about you.

He’s lived a very repetitive and predictable life. Since early childhood he’s had the same classmates and friends, and gone to the same places and events. He’s known the same girls and has hung out with the same people for years. The only time he got any sense of independence is when he was gone for law school but now that he’s done and has returned home for the sake of his family and friends, he’s reminded once again of the repetitiveness.

Maybe that’s why he’s a little excited to meet someone new. He just had a strong feeling that you were more interesting than you let on and he wanted to know more.

He didn’t know that you felt the same and had to ignore these thoughts so you wouldn’t start anything with him. Jungkook was attractive and you’ve moved on from the fall aside from the slight bruising, and you were just trying to enjoy your time. Did you really need to meet someone?

In all honesty, he didn’t seem as arrogant covered in sweat, he looked good and he seemed nice.

But did that mean you wanted to waste your time with him?

✧

It was a crush, nothing but a small, schoolboy crush that occupied his mind from time to time. In all honesty, it was easy to ignore when he got carried away in his day to day life, it’s only when he sees you or you cross his mind for the shortest of seconds, that he finds himself getting lost. He doesn’t care for the girls his best friend likes to hang around, nor does he feel the need to upturn himself out there. Lately, all he’s wanted is to be with someone who makes him forget about himself and maybe he wasn’t looking in the right places if he thought you could help.

It was wishful thinking for him to hold so much thought over a stranger who couldn’t care less to know his name, but that’s what he liked. He wondered when he would run into you again, what he might say in hopes of getting a response and what would happen after that. He even wondered if you’d be at the beach tonight while everyone told ghost stories and drank bottles of Soju one after the other.

What does he say when he finally sees you looking at him?

You spotted him first, hating how much you wanted for him to look up and see you too. He was with his friends and you had no intentions to approach him but… well, he was cute. You can’t act like he isn’t and he’s oddly charming which makes him memorable but it was a bad idea. This trip was meant to be fun with your friends and that’s it—you weren’t going to make time for strangers.

“For once we don’t have to worry about an Uber and can walk our asses home,” Hoseok said standing over a keg, “So I don’t know about you guys, but I’m blacking out tonight.”

”When has anything ever stopped you from accomplishing that?” You asked him, turning your back to the familiar stranger, “You’re never the one ordering it anyway.”

”No, he’s usually the one we’re pushing into the backseat,” Hyeri joined in on the teasing.

“Shh, why do I always feel judged by you two? Is this what friends are for?” Hoseok pretended to be hurt as he filled your cup with beer.

“She’s not from around here, is she?” Jungkook asked as he looked across at you. You haven’t noticed him—he doesn’t think—but he’s noticed you and for some reason that excited him. Well, for one specific reason and it was simply the fact that he likes you. Does he know enough about you to pinpoint this statement? No, but he knows that he feels strange when you’re around. That has to mean something. The longest relationship he’s ever been in was with Yeaun and he doesn’t remember feeling this excited to meet someone.

“How would I know?” Jimin asked when a scoff, barely bothering to look over at you. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “You rather think about her than Yeaun? You’re insane.”

“Are you sure it’s Chae-hi you like and not Yeaun? You sure do bring her up around me a lot,” Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you to get back together with Yeaun so that Chae-hi will think about me instead of her ‘heartbroken’ friend,” Jimin handed him a cup of beer, “Take one for the team.”

“No, I don’t think so,” He chuckled, “We broke up for a reason so don’t push it.”

“Not a good reason,” Jimin mumbled under his breath but Jungkook chose to ignore it.

“There you are,” the devil herself said as she found him, “We were wondering where you two ran off, right?”

“Right,” Chae-hi agreed, “Hi Jimin.”

“So, it’s kind of boring here isn’t it?” Yeaun asked looking at Jungkook for assurance, “Plus all the low lives are starting to come in and I really don’t want to be around any of them. We were wondering if you guys wanted to come back to mine.”

“To do what?” Jimin asked while Jungkook stood back disinterested and distracted. He couldn’t even pretend to be interested when he was focused on someone else entirely.

By pure luck, he looked back to see if you were still standing where you were before and this time you locked eyes with him. Without much care for the conversation he was supposed to be in right now, he walked off while they discussed plans involving a hot tub.

“I’m starting to think you’re following me,” Jungkook first said as you nearly bumped into him in an attempt to get closer to the bonfire. He walked alongside you with ease, “First, on the court, then at my job and now here?”

That made you snort in disbelief, shaking your head and trying not to smile, “Someone seems flattered but I think you have it the wrong way.”

“As in I’m the one doing the most to run into you? No, never,” Jungkook spoke dramatically, “This is all by chance. There’s no way I could’ve seen you from over there and decided to come and talk to you instead. That would make me seem desperate, wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” you agreed, slightly amused now as you broke into a small smile, “I didn’t take you as the type.”

“Well that’s because you haven’t tried to get to know me, I’m honestly a catch,” Jungkook joked lightly, following you where you walked off to, “Or are you scared?”

“Scared? Of what?” You asked, stopping abruptly and turning to face him with furrowed brows. He couldn’t help but smirk, “Oh I don’t know… getting to know someone new. You give me the vibe that you don’t like meeting new people.”

“I love meeting new people,” You exaggerated childishly, “When they don’t fall on top of me.”

“I caught myself, so let’s not lie now,” Jungkook snorted, “Besides, who’s the one who walked into the middle of a game?”

As he said that, the two of you seemed to have drifted far enough from where the fire had been going, that you found yourself not too far from one of the volleyball nets on the shore. Jungkook looked down at you with clear amusement as you looked up at the net and he walked up to the abandoned volleyball that sat in the sand.

“Do you eat, sleep, and breathe volleyball?” You jokingly asked, finally giving Jungkook some response that implied you were interested in him even slightly.

“Only on the weekends, sometimes around noon or after work if I’m free,” Jungkook told you, picking up the ball, “Do you play?”

“No,” you told him as he began to bounce the ball back and forth between his hands. You looked back at your friends who seemed preoccupied with whatever new friends they made for the night.

“It’s easy,” Jungkook said, “There’s really only one basic rule, don’t let the ball touch the ground.”

“Are you giving me a lesson now?” You asked with slight amusement as he moved to the other side of the net, “I’m warning you, I won’t be any good at it.”

“I’ll take it easy on you,” Jungkook tossed the ball your way and although you reached out to hit it, you missed and it landed a few feet behind you. He couldn’t help but laugh, “Okay, maybe you try and throw it.”

“But how do I throw it?” You looked up the tall net wondering how you would make it over. You held it up and tried doing a practice hit while he tried teaching you.

“Just try a simple serve, you can hit it from under or thro—“

“Oh my god,” you broke out into a nervous laugh as Jungkook covered his face with his hand. The ball sat at his feet, completely oblivious to the fact it had just pummeled straight into his face. You covered your mouth in an attempt to stop laughing but you were embarrassed and couldn’t do anything but try and laugh it off, “I’m so sorry.”

“Really? I can’t tell?” Jungkook said sarcastically, sounding eerily similar to you when you first met but still playful. In all honesty, the pain wasn’t too bad but it was humiliating and the only thing he could think about is how you’re trying not to laugh, “You think it’s funny?”

“No! No, I don’t, I just um,” you tried to stop, “I just…”

“You just what?” Jungkook looked at you, slowly making his way to your side and you inadvertently began to step back, worried he might actually be upset, “You like laughing at causing other people pain?”

“Did it actually hurt?” You asked with surprise, still stepping back the closer he got.

“My ego, yeah,” he joked, “And I feel like we need to get even.”

“We did, think about it as me getting back at you for the other day!” You tried to say, feeling the edge of the ride begin to touch your feet the farther you walked from him.

“Really? So this was all part of revenge?” Jungkook asked, “I don’t think so, I suggest you run.”

“What?” You stopped to think, “Jungk—“

And it began. He kicked water at you once the tide was close again and without thinking, you jumped back. You weren’t wearing a bathing suit or anything appropriate for the water so he can’t. You’re in a simple top and flowy, long skirt, not something you wanted wet, “Don’t you dare.”

“Why? Scared of a little water?” He tried to kick water again but this time you moved back in time and he smirked, “It’s better than getting hit in the face. Will you take care of me if I get a concussion?”

You scoffed, laughing, “Don’t you wis—Jungkook!”

He ran after you as you took off in a jog and before he knew it, you were splashing water back at him, not caring about how wet you got. The night was young and you were having a good time, there wasn’t much to worry about other than making sure you got Jungkook before he could get you.

Not far from where the two of you played in the ocean with the moon reflecting against the waves, a few pairs of eyes watched you unimpressed. Jimin didn’t have much to think about the matter, he just couldn’t understand it. Why would Jungkook waste his time on someone he didn’t even know?

Yeaun was right here desperate to have him back and instead he’s wandered off with some stranger acting childish. It doesn’t make sense, and neither does the big grin on Jungkook’s face once he caught you and tackled you into the low tide, both getting drenched in water.

“Jungkook!” He ignored the call of his name as he watched you shake sand out of your hair with curiosity. You looked annoyed even if you smiled and he knows you probably are considering he pushed you into the water but you’re not cussing him out yet. You’re not screaming at him for getting you into the water so maybe it was a good sign.

“Are we even now?” You asked breathlessly as you looked forward to where your friends were and turned away from Jungkook.

“I guess, for now at least,” He teased, walking toward Jimin, “It depends on if I bruise or not.”

“I didn’t hit you that hard,” you scoffed, smiling and shaking your head in disbelief. At some point in your ascend back up the shore, Jungkook got you to finally give him your number. You didn’t question when his friend approached him, going on about something you didn’t bother listening to and turned in search for someone you knew.

“You look like you need a towel,” someone said from your right. It took you a second to realize she was talking to you, much less holding out a clean towel for you.

“Thanks,” you said, trying to wipe off some of the sand with the beach towel the stranger handed to you. Hyeri was off talking with some guy and you had no clue where Hoseok was so as of now, you were on your own here. The girl was pretty and she seemed nice enough so you didn’t mind responding to her approach.

“I’m getting sand all over it,” you tried to make some sort of conversation, “Sorry, I’m Y/n.”

“Don’t even worry about it, I’m Yeaun,” She said with a smile, “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Is it that obvious?” You asked, laughing lightly. Yeaun just shrugged as she got closer to you, “Not really, but, well… there’s just some people you should always avoid.”

Your brows began to furrow with confusion, “Like?”

“No, I don’t want to start anything,” she shook her head no, “We don’t know each other and you’ll probably think I’m meddling but… okay, Jeon Jungkook.”

You didn’t say anything to that as you tried to get a good look at the girl. Yeaun was pretty with sun-kissed skin and golden hair that shone under the moonlight. She seemed soft and glowed with a brightness that felt contagious but you didn’t know her. You don’t know why she brought up Jungkook or why she even approached you so you had nothing to say back to her.

“I just mean… you’re not from around here and you seem smart,” Yeaun said sympathetically, “Jungkook’s kind of a known player and I don’t want you to fall for his tricks, trust me, he’s not worth it.”

“Trust me, it’s not like that,” you said, suddenly disinterested in conversation with her and more focused on finding your friends, “Thanks for looking out for me though.”

Yeaun watched you walk away and not bother to turn back and she had to leave like it didn’t bother her to be brushed to the side. She can’t tell if you took what she said into consideration or if you couldn’t care less and she didn’t like that. She didn’t like that she didn’t know you and she didn’t know about your relationship with Jungkook or how you know him.

✧

His life was utterly perfect to anyone who thought about it. He had the bestest of friends, the closest family, the most money and a promising future. Everything he had ever wanted was handed right to him and in a sense, it made him arrogant. It was a given that he would end up that way and maybe that’s why he’s always surrounded himself with people of the like. He didn’t despise any of his friends, just sometimes, when he listened to the conversations they would have, he wanted to disagree.

“Yeaun said you’ve been avoiding her,” Jin said as he pulled a golf club out of his bag.

”Great, now you’re talking about her too?” Jungkook asked, lining his club up with a shiny white golf ball, “I already get enough of it from my parents and Jimin.”

“Well yeah, when you suddenly call off a year long engagement with someone you’ve known all your life, people question it,” Jin said, watching Jungkook swing the club back and shoot the ball into the air, “We’re worried about you.”

“Don’t be,” Jungkook mumbled, “Besides, there’s someone else, I don’t know if you know her, her name’s Y/n.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Jin shrugged, moving his visor down to block more of the summer sun out of his eyes. He wore white golfing gloves and a pair of Raybans, making him look straight out of a country club catalog.

Jungkook sighed, growing more restless by the minute. He’s only seen you on few occasions and he’s yet to leave a good impression on you where he can ask for your number or something, “She was hanging out with this guy, I know you know him but I can’t think of his name—you dated his sister.”

“Hoseok?” Jin asked, “I remember hearing about how he was in town. How do you know this isn’t his girlfriend you’re hitting on?”

“It’s not,” Jungkook said, “I don’t think. I don’t know.”

“But what about her?” Jin asked, hopping in the passenger’s side of the golf cart, “You don’t know a thing about the girl but you like her and you’re willing to throw away your future because of it.”

“I’m not throwing anything away,” Jungkook said with a scoff, “But whatever, you don’t get it.”

He spent the evening golfing on a private course not far from the beach where you wandered around with a book in hand.

You enjoyed passing time with your friends but sometimes, you just needed time to yourself and you would find yourself wandering off on your own without much care for anything else. Your friends didn’t mind when you went off and you always made sure to tell them where you would go so there was never any problem. Ever since you got here, you’ve been doing things on your own.

“I knew I would find you around here.”

You didn’t respond at first, still debating if the person was talking to you, but one look up told you he was. Although you wanted to resist the urge to smile, you couldn’t help it.

“Stalker,” You said with a small sigh, closing your book. He didn’t say anything as he took a seat down in the sand next to you. “You’re on my turf, remember? What are you reading by the way?”

You glanced at the cover of your book, “Nothing exciting—how’d you know I was here?”

“I looked for a dark, brooding figure and assumed it was you,” Jungkook joked, “And just an fyi, my face still hurts.”

“I’m sure you've been hit worse,” You said sarcastically, sitting up and watching him get comfortable. He was dressed in a light color linen button up and shorts, the first buttons were undone and a cliche shell necklace sat perfectly against his collarbone. He was attractive and you’ve thought so since the beginning but something was holding you back.

Did you really want to waste your time on a stranger you won’t know in a few months?

“What are you doing tonight?” He asks suddenly.

“Sleeping, hopefully,” you told him, a small smile when you noticed him roll his eyes.

“It’s the summer, the sun’s out, you live on the beach—don’t look at me like that, it’s a small town. Word gets around when a new person shows up,” Jungkook said with a shrug, knowing it’s him who had been asking about you.

“You’re just solidifying my stalker allegations, should I report you?” You asked, laughing slightly.

“I’ll have you know, a lot of people would love to be stalked by me, you should feel flattered,” He nudged your knee with his.

“What? Like it’s hard? Word gets around,” You said to him, “I’ve already been warned about getting too close to you.”

Jungkook let his brows furrow as he took in what you said but it didn’t take long for it to dawn on him. As much as he wanted to act like there was no way his ex girlfriend would approach you, he knew her too well. Who else would talk down on him? Who else would feel threatened when he ignores them? What does she think she gains from telling you to stay away from him? Isn’t it his decision who he approaches and does she think you’re just going to fall in line like everyone else does?

This is the sort of thing that pisses him off. He’s not a bad guy at all, he doesn’t sleep around, he focuses on his goals, he has fun with his friends… so why?

“But if it makes you feel any better, I’m not very good at listening to what I’m told,” You finally said, standing up with your book in hand and pulling the sand-covered towel, “And I’m starving, so where’s a good place to eat around here?”

As much as he wanted to act like the cool guy and seem indifferent, he couldn’t help but break out into a grin. Without wasting another second, he got up and motioned to carry your things, “There’s a good food shack on the boardwalk. I guess I could show you around.”

“If it isn’t too much of a hassle,” You said playfully, handing him your things.

“So, I want to know, what’s a big city girl like yourself doing all the way over here?” He asked on the way up, “Or do you still want to play at being mysterious?”

You rolled your eyes, “I don't usually play games like that, I think you’ve got me confused with someone else. I just don’t talk if I have nothing to say.”

“Interesting take, I personally never know when to shut up,” Jungkook smiled, pointing up to the restaurant and walking in behind you, “But seriously, usually the tourists come to pollute our water and get away.”

“Are you always so observant? You give me the vibe that you like to watch other people,” You told him, sitting down at a high round table across from him.

“And you give me the vibe that you hate talking about yourself. Why else would you avoid every question I ask?” He asked, raising a brow making you scoff but you couldn’t deny it. When the server brought out your menus, she made sure to greet Jungkook like old friends.

“Do you really care to know?” You asked quietly.

“Why else would I ask? I’m not pretending to be interested, if that’s what you think,” Jungkook said honestly.

You didn’t say anything for a moment, looking down at the menu contemplating what to order and what to say, “Things were getting a little too complicated back home and my friend asked if I wanted to pack up my things and follow him down for the summer and I said yes.”

“How broad,” Jungkook said with a small smile, lifting a brow and waiting to see if you would add to it.

“It’s the truth,” you shrugged.

“What was complicated?” Jungkook asked.

He looked amused when you narrowed your eyes in response to his probing. “Adulting.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Jungkook shrugged, waiting for the server to come back to take your orders. He let you order first, watching the server give you a look as she listened and followed after with his own.

“How wise of you to say. What about you?” You asked him, handing the menus back and sliding your drink closer to you.

Jungkook distracted himself playing with the wrapper of his straw and shrugged, “What about me? We’ll get to me when you give me the juicy details.”

You couldn’t help but scoff, looking out the window to the view of the waves crashing against the shore, “What? I told you everything.”

He chuckled, “Barely.”

Rolling your eyes, “Rude.”

“Really?” He asked, biting back a smile.

“No. You’re actually pretty nice,” once again, you sighed, as if admitting that was hard for you.

“Nice? That’s what you tell a guy when you’re going to reject him. I just want to know more about you but there’s not much I can go with. How long are you staying?” Jungkook finally asked you.

“A couple months, are you already dreading it when I leave?” You asked, sounding sarcastic and amused.

“Maybe, you’ve left an impression despite what you might think. Crushing you under my incredible physique was destiny.” He could tell you wanted to laugh but were refusing to do so.

“Corny.”

“Funny.” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair and making it known that he was going to wait for you however long it took.

“I had this bad roommate situation I couldn’t take anymore and my lease doesn’t end for another two months so when Hobi asked me to come with I jumped at the chance. I left my job because it’s draining me and I felt useless so I figured it’d be easier to run away to the beach and deal with it all later. Happy? I was honest.” You rushed the words, half-assed the pace.

It was his turn to narrow his eyes suspiciously but gave in, “Content. You’ll figure it out, you don’t seem like the type to wait around for things to fix themselves.”

“Really? Because that feels like what I’m doing right now. I’m all the way over here where I haven’t done anything but run into this strange guy at the beach who I think might be stalking me,” You said, joking at the end.

“No, right now you’re trying to live in the moment, nothing wrong with that,” he chuckled, ignoring your joke.

You don’t remember much of what you said to him but for some reason Jungkook was very easy to talk to. Maybe it’s because you don’t really know him or expect anything from him at all but he got you too open up to him like you’ve known him for years. In reality you didn’t know anything about him or anyone here for that matter.

“Okay, okay, enough about me. It’s your turn,” you had finally said between mouthfuls of whatever the two of you ordered and Jungkook couldn’t avoid it any longer.

“Alright, I’m… also trying to figure things out on my own. I’m used to being with certain people and doing certain things and I don’t know, at one point I kind of got fed up with everything being so predictable. I want to meet people on my own and not because they know who I am or something,” He rushed his words, “If I could, I’d move far away from here but right now I don’t think that’s an option so I settle for next best and stick it out. In all honesty, everything’s kind of been a bore until I met you, you’re different.”

You raised a brow, mirroring his earlier stance and crossing your arms over your chest, unamused, “How?”

He smirked, “I don’t know yet, I can just tell.”

You never believe a guy when he goes on about how different you are from other girls because usually they’re just full of shit. You’re not good at picking the right person so it makes you wary to believe anything he says despite how good he looks saying it.

By the time the bill came, the server made sure to sit it without checking if that’s what either of you wanted but you didn’t hesitate to reach for yours. Jungkook snatched the small slip out of your hand and hurried the server back so he could pay for it in full, giving her a tight smile, “Just one check, thanks.”

“Sure thing,” she said with a light scoff that had you looking after her with furrowed brows. Something about the way she acted left you feeling confused.

“What a good first date.” Jungkook said at the end, walking outside with you.

“This wasn’t a date,” you teased, thanking him for the meal nevertheless, “But I should probably call it a night, y’know.”

“Oh yeah, me too,” Jungkook shrugged “But if you’re not doing anything tomorrow night, we should see each other again.”

“Hm, I’ll think about it,” You said playfully, “If I’m not busy.”

“You won’t be,” He smirked, bumping your shoulder with his as the walk turned bumpy and more trail-like as he walked you home, “But why don’t you give me your number and we can talk about it more on the phone.”

“Hah, smooth guy, aren’t you?” You asked, taking his phone and typing your number in. When you got to the soft trail of greenery and sand that led up to the backyard of the beach house.

“How about we watch the last few minutes of the sun set together,” he reached for your head and stopped you before you could head up the wooden steps.

“How about you don’t kidnap my friend for the whole evening!” Hoseok shouted suddenly, tripping over his own feet as he ran out the sliding glass door that led to the pool deck, “I’ve been worried sick about Y/n.”

“Not true, he’s been sleeping!” Hyeri yelled after him, “But you’re the guy who tackled my best friend on our first day here.”

“My reputation precedes me,” Jungkook held his hands up in surrender, “I’m Jungkook. I was just asking if you guys wanted to join us and watch the sun set.”

“How aesthetic, let me grab some bottles of Soju.”

Your attempt to end your time with Jungkook failed and he seemed pleased with himself for that. He was also polite enough to try and get to know your friends too.

✧

He was having a crisis, he thinks. A real life identity crisis because for the first time in his life he thinks he likes someone—in a way he’s never liked anyone before. It’s pathetic and makes him feel so stupid because he barely knows anything about you but it’s the truth. If anything that’s what makes him like you so much. He likes that he can’t tell what you’ll say or how you’ll react to him, it’s exciting.

He just wants to know if he’s on your mind too.

“We’re still on for this weekend right?”

“What are we doing again?” The road ahead was a scenic path between mountain and sea that led all the way to this private property of his childhood home.

“Chae-hi’s birthday trip.” Jimin spoke from the passenger’s seat of the black pick-up truck his best friend paraded in when he wasn’t on his dirtbike.

“Oh, yeah I’m not going. I was thinking of taking Y/n sailing,” Jungkook said with a small smile, looking sideways, unable to miss the way Jimin stiffened and went silent. He looked back to the road, hand tightening around the steering wheel slightly, “What?”

“Nothing,” Jimin scoffed, looking out the window annoyed now. The drive was silent for a while, nothing but the low sound of music and wind blowing through the topless truck.

“What’s up with you lately?” He finally asked, “You barely know the girl and she’s all you talk about. We’ve had plans to go with everyone.”

By everyone he meant their mutual friends—not just his ex and her friend—which made things worse. He’s known them all for years and it’s hard to see them when he wants to move on and do his own thing. Jungkook tried not to let Jimin’s tone ruin his mood and sighed, “Sorry, man, but I’m not going. Are we playing later or what?”

“You sure you’re not busy with your new friends?” Jimin asked, remembering about the night Jungkook had dinner with you. He tried calling him that night to see if he wanted to go out for drinks just to be rejected because Jungkook was too busy with you and your friends.

Jungkook chuckled, “Don’t be jealous, you’ll always be first in my heart.”

“Oh fuck off,” Jimin rolled his eyes, trying to not sound bitter as he asked, “What’s your girl doing anyway?”

“Y/n’s not my girl—yet, I don’t know. She hasn’t texted back,” Jungkook said worriedly, making Jimin stare at him strangely.

It’s not that he had anything against you personally, he just doesn’t get it. You’re a complete stranger who won’t stick around so why has his best friend chosen to hang out with you so much recently. What did you have over the people he’s known all his life? What do you bring to the table?

What did you gain from being around Jungkook?

You couldn’t explain it either. All you really knew was that a cute guy who sort of annoyed you in the beginning was starting to rub off on you. You’ve come to enjoy running into him and forcing yourself to open up because he’ll listen. It made you feel weird in a good way. You wanted to think about how fun it was to be around him and ignore all the worries you’ve had recently.

Even with your close friends, you’ve long since stopped talking about the people you were interested in. It wasn’t because you didn’t trust them or want their advice but sometimes you didn’t feel the need to say anything—especially if it was harmless fun. That’s why when Hyeri approached you about Jungkook, you weren’t sure what to say.

“It’s no fair,” Hyeri picked through a crate of strawberries, dropping them into a basket, “I wanted to find a little beach boyfriend, why’d you get lucky instead.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked dumbly, following her down the aisle of produce at the farmer’s market.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Hyeri said accusingly, “Jungkook.”

“We’re just hanging out,” You said with a shrug that made her laugh, pushing her sunglasses into her hairline. You knocked against one end of a green watermelon, hoisting it in your hands and continuing past her.

“Right, is that what you called your date the other night? Just a nice early dinner with a hot guy who asked to watch the sunset with you?” She said playfully, “You like him, don’t you.”

“I don’t know him,” You insisted. Yes, you’ve talked a lot with Jungkook recently and you’ve begun to talk about real things in your lives but did that really mean anything? “Besides, in a month and a half I’ll be in my new place settling back into the old routine. It’s just fun hanging out with him, nothing more, it’d be too complicated.”

“Whatever you say,” Hyeri sighed.

You’re lying, obviously you’re lying because you do sort of like him but you didn’t want to think about it. You didn’t want to think about what you could become, you only want to think about now and how things progress. Whatever happens, happens. That’s it. Could you pretend like you have no worries aside from who you’ll run into on the beach instead?

When your phone rang, you knew immediately who it could’ve been and although Hyeri walked ahead, acting like she couldn’t hear it, she was clearly listening. When you answered Jungkook’s call, he was quick to ask about your plans for the upcoming weekend.

✧

“You want to take me sailing?”

Despite the early hours where the sun has yet to shine through, you still couldn’t wrap your mind around it. Even walking along the dock following after Jungkook who led the way through the darkness of the starry sky. “Or are you plotting my murder?”

“Which would you prefer I do?” He asked teasingly, looking back at you with a grin, “But seriously, it’ll be fun.”

Fun wasn’t waking up before the sun did, nor was it following a man you barely know out to the sea. If it weren’t for Hyeri begging you to take up his offer, you wouldn’t be here right now.

The sailing yacht was bigger than you expected with a small cabin area below deck to sleep and wash up in. You’ve never been on a sailboat before but you didn’t think they would look this nice and clean.

“This is yours?” You asked, watching him put in the arm work to undo the rope that tied the boat to the dock.

“Um, yeah,” Jungkook answered blandly, “Kinda?”

“Kinda?”

“Yeah, it’s mine,” he cleared his throat, helping you carry your bag down to the room before bringing you back up to the galley, “I used to be on a sailing team when I was in school and after I graduated I got this for my friends and I.”

“Nice,” You looked around, still in shock at the size of the sails. It was a Beneteau Oceanis 48 with such a sleek, clean look you were scared to sit on any part of it. You wanted to ask how much it was but resisted the urge to, scared you’d sound rude.

Still half asleep, you watched Jungkook set sail behind the wheel, his jacket already off and the sleeves of his linen shirt.

“Sleep a little, we’ve got time,” he said lastly.

It went easy between you two, you felt comfortable and for some reason safe with him enough to letyourself relax around him. You can't remember falling asleep but at some point you had and when you were woken up it was with him dropping anchor in the middle of the open sea.

The waves were calm, breathtaking deep blue and you could see the line of gold separating the ocean from the sky. It was beginning to warm up but you still shivered in your thin sweater, looking up feeling awestruck by the view.

"Look who's finally awake," Jungkook said softly as he secured the wheel and came over to where you sat. He grabbed his jacket — that he had grown too hot for — and placed it over your front. You took in the light scent of his cologne that lingered on the Northface and thanked him, "You said I could sleep."

"I know," he sat across from you, looking at you with a gentle look on his eyes, "I did wake you up pretty early, but look at the view. Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's nice," You leaned against the edge of the seat, staring down at the dark navy blue water, almost catching your reflection in it. The line of gold was beginning to widen and a circle of light was bouncing off the ocean beautifully. "If you plan on pushing me over the edge, now's the time."

"You're dumb," he laughed, kicking your foot with his playfully. You smiled, trying not to laugh as you looked at him, "Aren't you cold?"

"No, it's hard work getting a sail boat out and I was starting to sweat," Jungkook lifted an arm, flexing it, "But these guns never fail me."

"That's too bad, I was hoping you'd want to keep me warm but I don't want you to overheat," You teased, looking at him invitingly and his eyes shifted to the open space next to you. To set it off, you even winked.

"You know what, now that you mention it, being surrounded by this sea breeze is making me a little chilly," Jungkook pretended to shiver as he got up.

"The sun's rising, I'm sure you'll warm up again really soon," You said as he sat next to you, touching your leg and making you put it on his lap.

"Who knows, I'm suddenly freezing, come closer," he rested his arm on the back of your seat, pulling you onto his lap, "I heard body heat is good to warm up."

"You can always just put your jacket on," You pretended to argue making him roll your eyes, almost sassily.

"But you look so much better in it," He brushed hair out of your face that the wind blew over, finger softly tracing the side of your face.

"I hate to admit this but... you're too good to be true," You said honestly, shifting your gaze away, "Like, too perfect."

"But I'm not," Jungkook argued quietly, "I'm just... I don't know, I'm not acting like myself—or maybe I am and haven't realized it but I think it's you. I want to impress you."

You didn't know how to respond but he didn't mind. He was more focused on the soft glimmer in your eye as you watched the sky turn a powder blue with orange, hearing the seagulls and light whooshing sound of the sails.

It's bad how affected you're leaving him and you don't even know it.

"Y/n," Jungkook tried getting your attention again, leaned his head against your shoulder. You didn't have to say anything to know what he was asking. The first soft brush of his lips against your jaw had you succumbing to his effect. He tilted your chin with the tip of his fingers, catching your lips with his, finally.

How do you describe it?

How do you explain how soft and tender his lips felt? How his fingers grazing your skin sent a shiver down your spine and how he was surprisingly very loving with his affection?

This man who you barely knew and trusted too much was making you melt in his arms, kissing you and making it feel like you've never been kissed before.

"This is bad," he mumbled against your lips, pulling back to catch his breath, eyes still closed, "I really like you."

You gave him one quick peck of a kiss, sitting up, "Tell me all about it then."

Jungkook couldn't he'll but crack a grin, licking the taste of you off his lips. He wouldn't be able to shut up if he did.

You're beautiful, stunning, truly.

Even with your face in sand or your hair a mess, a scowl or pout, just beautiful to him. It was so stupid for him to be swayed by that but it's obviously what pulled him in first.

You were so mean—he thought, at least—but it never stopped him from approaching you. It's like he knew it wasn't your intention to come off so cold and when you'd joke back with him, he could see the hint of mischief in your eyes. It made him want to push your buttons or say something he knew would get a reaction from you.

You're different and he wishes it didn't sound so stupid like he knew you would think if he ever told you but you are. You're like no one he's met—really met, beyond surface level interests or habits. You responded differently, looked at him differently, treated him different.

"I won't shut up if I do," he said honestly, "Can't I just show you, instead?"

"How suggestive," you giggled, letting him kiss you again. There was more force to it this time, like he really meant it. The first one was firm and teasing, really testing the waters when his hand disappeared into your hair to keep you from pulling away.

You were spending the golden hour of the late sunrise with Jungkook sailing on a boat in the ocean. The view was amazing and his lips were so soft.

His lip ring is surprisingly warm when it brushes your lips, and his tongue feels slick against yours. He held you closely making you feel secure and safe [?], and at one point you made it onto his lap, practically straddling him.

You pressed closer to him eagerly and the movement makes his hands travel toward your hips for support, his jacket long forgotten on the floor. The seat was hard underneath him but if he mentioned it you might pull away and that's the last thing he wanted in the moment. Jungkook liked kissing you, he liked feeling your lips trail down his jaw and toward his neck where you didn't shy away from leaving open mouth kissed against his Adam's apple or under his ear.

"Y/n—" his hands circled around you tighter, "Have you gotten a good look at the cabin?"

Your brows furrowed momentarily, looking down the short steps to the cabin door where a big bed was seen through the window, "No, want to show me?"

You began to get up from Jungkook's lap, making his hands slide off down your hip, leading you to the cabin.

Jungkook wasn’t as subtle as he hoped to be when he pressed you into his chest, peppering your shoulder with light and teasing kisses taking you further into the room. A small smile played on your lips when you turned to face him, circling your arms around his neck.

He didn’t question it when you walked him toward the bed instead, making him sit down as you kissed and straddling him once more. You were a good kissed and Jungkook could attest to that by the way your tongue slid between his lips to seek his out. It was a surprise for you to be so forward with him but he wasn’t complaining at all. If anything it made him want to take it further. He wasn’t shy with his touches anymore and you could feel his hands circle down to your butt, pressing you firmly into his lap.

It was hard to ignore his arousal from your simple make-out. It was evident in his shorts and it made you want to keep going. You began to rock your hips against him lightly, feeling his growing bulge apply pressure between your legs.

“Can we get this off?” Jungkook asked about your jacket first, feeling you miles away and when you unzipped it, you pulled off your shirt too leaving him breathless, “You’re bolder than I thought.”

“Is that a bad thing?” You asked, watching his fingers trace down your bare sides, looking at your bra and chest. His finger hooked into the hem of your jeans as if to teasingly ask if they can come off next and you gave him the go ahead, starting to unbutton his shirt for him.

“Never,” he sighed, eyes closing when your hands touched his muscular chest. His hands snuck under her jeans playing with your underwear and grinding your hips against his worn more purpose drawing out a small groan in the process.

When your hips began to move on their own, teasing his aching member, he leaned forward to kiss along your neck, finding your pulse points with ease and reaching behind you for the clasp of your bra to get it off next.

Your arms circled his neck, hugging his head close to feel his lips on your skin and moved your hips with more determined rhythm. You’d be lying if you said his kisses weren’t turning you on and sending shivers down your spine. Jungkook slid your bra off letting it hit the floor while you wrestled his opened shirt off his shoulders and hugged him in a kiss.

“You’re so sexy,” Jungkook whispered, kissing the soft mound of your breasts, “Even when I had you in the ground covered in sand that’s all I could think about.”

“And here I thought it was my personality that drew you in,” You teased, letting him finally turn you on your back beneath him. He pulled your jeans off leaving you in your small slither of panty.

“Trust me, it did,” Jungkook said, kissing along your thighs, “Hurt my feelings that the pretty girl from the beach couldn’t care less about me.”

“A real shot to your ego,” you raised your knees

Jungkook leaned forward to catch your lips in a kiss, hovering over your body, “It really was.”

A small gasp left your lips as you felt his hand trace down the curve of your sides, slipping into your underwear and feeling the soft slope of your nether region. Your thighs parted more, letting his finger tease your clit.

“I wasn’t too impressed in the beginning,” You joked, lifting your hips when you felt his finger begin to feel around your folds, surely finding where the slick began to puddle. He used the wetness to coat your clit, raising a light sigh from your lips there he swallowed in a kiss.

“I’m well aware,” Jungkook whispered against your lips. You rose your hips to meet his hand, finding some stimulation that made your body respond with raise bumps in pleasure, “What about now?”

As he asked, his coated middle finger finally pressed into your wet cunt, with his palm against your clit and grinding into it as he pushed his finger into the hilt. You dug your nails into his tatted forearm to ground yourself against the sudden feeling and holding back the loud moan that almost slipped. He smiled, clearly amused by your reaction. He maneuvered his hand around so his thumb could find your clit and with it covered in your arousal it made the slide so much easier.

Jungkook’s long finger slide into your pussy with slight restriction, curling when he pushed all the way in and finding that sweet spot that had your breath hitching and probing at it. You were at a loss for words and he loved it, it made him want to kiss you as he brought you pleasure with just his hand. He wasn’t even asking for a response anymore, he was just trying to tell you how he’s felt while he makes you feel good on an expensive sail boat in the sea.

The sunrise had long been forgotten and replaced by the thought of how good he made you feel and he was happy about that.

"Oh, fuck." You gasped, gripping his armas he hooks his finger at just the right angle. You didn’t even have to tell him that was the spot that made your toes curl, it’s like he just knew it.

"Like it?" He asked, repeating his previous action, kissing along your neck for added stimulation.

He could feel you on edge of orgasm by the way you pinched his arm but he didn’t care about the slight sting. He cared more for the glazed look in your eyes, walls tightening around his finger.

It’s like he knew exactly when the last push would be, and his pace grew more rough, ready to get you there and finally your body gave way to pleasure.

“Pretty,” Jungkook said softly, feeling your release around his hand, letting you ride out your high and pulling his hand back when you were ready. Your breathing was shallow and the sight of your breasts falling and rising with each breath was hypnotizing. When he pulled back, he couldn’t stand the constriction of his shorts anymore. Without thinking, he licked your release off his hand before yanking his shorts down along with his usual Calvin Kleins.

Jungkook didn’t say he was ready to go further, but you could tell just by the way his cock sprung free from its confines. It was pretty and long, not too think nor skinny and fit his physique perfectly. He stroked himself here and there for some friction but didn’t hurry you along. Instead, he let you catch your breath as he watched in awe at the fact that he had you in bed with him.

“Come here,” you motioned for him to come closer with your index finger and sat up, fully naked before him and getting him in the bed with you. Jungkook followed in a trance, kissing you thoughtlessly and nearly biting your lip in surprise when your fingers touched the tip of his dick, feeling the pre-cum that leaked from the slit.

You barely had your hand wrapped around his pretty cock, giving him a small jerk up his length when his fingers circled around your waist to stop you, “Not tonight.”

You tried to read the expression in his eyes but he just kissed you lovingly, “I want to feel you, all of you.”

“What a giver,” You said playfully, kissing the tip of his nose and laying back with him following after you. He held your legs apart, lining his cock at your entrance, “Can I? I’ll pull out.”

You gave a nod of your head, looking down as his cock pressed forward, aching to feel the tightness of your wet walls hugging him.

You’re not sure what came over you then, but the feel of his dick pushing past your entrance made you feel bold. Your leg hooked around his waist, pulling him forward and watching how his jaw went slack. Jungkook looked down at how eagerly you took him and his arms nearly gave out, eyes rolling as he processed the sudden pleasure.

You still needed a moment to adjust to his size and he practically fused himself to your body, trapping you beneath his muscular figure, “Fuck.”

His movements were slow at first, thrusting gently to find what felt good and what didn’t, running gentle hands over your breasts so he could feel the fullness of them. When he thrusted his hard length in, his thumbs were circled your nipples, pulling his cock out and pinching at them. Something about the leg you had around him drove him wild, feeling your territoriality over him even if there was a chance it meant nothing.

“Jungkook,” you moaned softly at a particularly harsh thrust, scratching at his back unintentionally, “Feels good.”

Something was happening inside of him that he couldn’t explain. He wanted to say things he shouldn’t, things that were too soon to admit and he had to bite his tongue to stop himself. The only other way he could stop himself from sounding like a fool was with his mouth on you and the closest thing to him were your perky nipples.

Jungkook never slowed the steady pace he set fucking you but with the added pleasure to your chest, his tongue circling around your nipple and sucking lightly, had you seeing stars. You’d nearly forgotten where you were till you looked out the windows, seeing the clear sky and the pretty water making this all feel more surreal.

Jungkook hugged you close, hand gripping your thigh and inching it higher around himself as he fucked you rougher, taking pleasure in bringing you close again and this time around he couldn’t bother being as gentle. He wanted to, he swears, but he’s so turned on by you that he couldn’t be patient at all. You didn’t even seem to mind when his hips slammed into yours, turning you to lay on your side, fucking yourself on his cock with more vigor knowing he needed release too, and let him manhandle you however he wanted. His free hand snuck into your hair, pulling slightly when he dragged you into another kiss and groaned against your lips.

Neither of you had to say anything to know you were both close, and it made you impatient. You moaned at the roughness, letting yourself get lost in the feeling unripe you couldn’t take it anymore, once again cumming with little control of yourself. He held you so roughly to his body, not letting you go as you struggled to catch your breath and you knew it was taking everything in him to not let go inside you. That’s the only thing that had you pushing away from him, trying to sneak a hand down to touch him but the second you did, his cock spilled thick cum into your hand, creamy and white. You wanted a taste badly.

Jungkook moaned your name quietly, feeling pathetic to cum so easily by your hand but he couldn’t hold back anymore. It took him longer to bounce back than you, and when he opened his eyes he caught you pressing a finger to your tongue, taking a small taste that left him shuddering.

“Don’t do that,” his voice said, raspy and tired tone.

“You did it to me,” You said, licking your finger clean, “And you made a mess.”

“Sorry,” he couldn’t help but pout, looking surprisingly cute to you even with his hair a sweaty mess and the afterglow of sex on his naked body, “Kiss?”

A grin spreads over his face when you lean in to kiss him, happily kissing you back more gently now.

“Would I sound wimpy if I said I needed a nap?” It pained him to even ask but he was suddenly so tired and relaxed in your arms. It made him feel unmanly to even think to ask but he couldn’t help it, he could lay in bed all day with you if it was an option, “We can worry about breakfast later—perhaps when it’s consider lunch or an afternoon snack.”

You laughed softly, snuggling into him further, “Let me at least clean up a little and then we can sleep for as long as you want.”

Jungkook smiled happily, letting you leave to the bathroom as he hurriedly tugged the bedding off. He wasn’t too worried about the boat, knowing he properly set anchor and the water was calm today. If anything the light rocking of the boat could lull him to sleep if you were in his arms.

“Are you sick of me yet?” Jungkook asked, watching you drift in and out of sleep as he drove away from the shipping dock. It was the evening and the hours spent in the open sun was exhausting, even with how sweet it felt. At least he thinks you might feel that way.

If he were being honest, he could still be with you longer. There hadn’t been enough hours in the day for him, “Or do you think we could still get dinner?”

“We can, but I need a shower, I’m sticky and sweaty,” You said absentmindedly, catching the way he bit his lip with a smirk that had you smacking his arm, “Don’t be gross.”

“I didn’t say anything,” He laughed, grinning as he thought about the way you said his name when you were naked in his arms, “But, I want to take you to my family home. My parents are gone for the weekend and it’s closer than my apartment.”

“Are you hiding your apartment from me?” You asked jokingly.

“No, but I live with Jimin and I want to be selfish and have you to myself longer so your place is out of the question too,” Jungkook admitted.

“And what am I supposed to wear? I didn’t really pack clothes,” You looked down at his linen shirt you currently wore, only panties underneath thinking you’d be going home after the eventful day.

“Something mine, you look good in what’s mine,” Jungkook said with a wink, “I’ll make us something nice—maybe get something ordered…”

“Oh I guess.”

You didn’t question the drive away from the houses lining the beach in his pick up truck. You stared out the window and watched the view turn more scenic would hillsides and small rocky edges, more nature-esque.

Songs played quietly that Jungkook would sometimes hum along too with a perfect pitch that had looking over at him from time to time. When he would catch you looking, he’d stop immediately and tighten his hands over the steering wheel.

He was nervous.

His family home was empty and he could go to it whenever he pleased but did he really want to bring you along? Open up another side of himself just for a few more moments alone? Did you mean this much to him?

Swallowing his nerves, he turned down a private road with tall trees and white gravel. It stretched on for a mile before ending at private gates. You sat up, slightly more aware of what was going on when he lowered his window to type in some code, hearing someone speak through an intercom, ‘Welcome home, sir.’

He could feel your eyes on him and he just smiled, “Wash up first?”

“Please,” You said, looking away, staring straight ahead at the colonial house that appeared in view. It was obscenely large with endless windows and greenery surrounding it making it all the more intimidating.

This is his family home, yours couldn’t compare.

Still, you tried not to question it.

Jungkook didn’t bother driving back to the private garage, he pulled up to the circular driveway by the fountain of a water nymph and got out of his truck, opening the door for you. It should’ve dawned on him that something was going to happen. The lights were on when no one should be home.

Still, he’s already brought you this far.

“Jungkook?”

His hand stopped at the handle of your door, just barely pulling it open but with little room for you to step out. You stopped moving instantly, watching the way he visibly stiffened, face hardening as he looked off to the distance.

“You’re here, what a surprise.”

“Mom,” he turned around immediately, “I thought you guys weren’t home.”

“Well, if you would answer the phone, when I call, you would know your father’s trip was canceled,” a women in a tweed Chanel suit and a tight smile stepped down from the entrance, “You’ve brought company?”

As if being summoned, Jungkook looked at you, motioning for you to step out and although you didn’t want you, you did—undressed and exhausted. The woman was stunning and classy like you’d never seen, somewhat taken back that she was the mother of the beach boy you’ve met.

Not to mention, it was too early to meet anyone’s parents. It made you sick to your stomach even as you smiled politely, “Hello.”

“This is Y/n,” Jungkook reached for your hand, “We were just stopping by.”

“When you thought no one was home?” She asked, making you look at him. He was grown, clearly, but still scolded and questioned like a child.

Jungkook didn’t say anything but you could feel him squeeze your hand when her eyes traveled over your barely dressed figure. He at least had on a t-shirt that was in his truck and his shorts.

“Why don’t the two of you clean up, we’re having dinner on the terrace,” She said looking unimpressed, “I’ll have a maid find you something more appropriate.”

“Oh, we don’t want to bo—“

“We have guests so don’t make a scene, I already had to make an excuse for why you wouldn’t be here, you can’t leave now. Even if you do have sudden company.”

That shut Jungkook up quicker than you’d ever seen. It wasn’t that you couldn’t catch on to what was happening, but more so you could wrap your mind around the reality of it. You moved almost as robotically as he did, sneaking into the house unsure what was going on aside from doing as told. He took you into his bedroom, pulling you in the bathroom with him and washing up. His entire demeanor changed and you didn’t know what to do.

“Should I go? I could probably get Hoseok to get me,” You told him honestly. You weren’t upset — not yet. As far as you knew, Jungkook might have a complicated relationship with his parents meeting the person he’s sleeping with, especially considering how recent things are with you. Neither of you are ready to meet the family, it’s just fun summer things. You’d say the biggest shock was that Jungkook seemed to be wealthy and likes to keep that private but does that make you worried?

“No, I want you here with me,” Jungkook said, swallowing hard and opening the door to his room, finding something folded on the edge of his bed. He handed it to you without much thought as he got dressed.

It was nothing crazy, just a light colored sundress and you had to dry off quickly so you could join him downstairs. Part of you wanted to call your friends but what would it mean if you did?

“What a surprise, brother, and I see you’ve finally brought someone new along,” an arrogant voice spoke up from the large dinner table on the terrace. It was a candle lit dinner with six guests aside from the two of you and you immediately reconciled a familiar face.

“Hello, sorry for keeping everyone waiting,” Jungkook said stiffly, “This is Y/n.”

“We’ve met,” Yeaun said when the others looked at you confused. Their greetings were bland and uncaring but you tried not to think too hard on it, “On the beach, right?”

“Yes, I remember,” You tried to smile, looking at Jungkook just as confused as everyone.

“Yeaun is a family friend,” Jungkook explained to you.

“An ex-fiancée,” His mother said coldly, making him freeze.

Why was she saying this?

“Darling,” an older version of Jungkook with salt and pepper hair said to his wife in warning.

“We’re on good terms though,” Yeaun smiled tightly, “Things have been changing recently, haven’t they?”

She asked you like you would know—like you were the reason for it but you were too stuck on what she was to care.

Ex-what?

“So, are you still going with the firm?” A woman sitting next to his brother said to him. That made his brother laugh, “He’s still playing around Jin’s auto shop.”

“Is everyone already eating? What about us?” Jungkook looked at you suddenly, “Should we get served?”

The firm? What firm? What fiancée? What was going on?

“Y/n, what about you? Are you new in town? Who are your parents?” The dad asked, making all heads turn toward you, a member of who you assumed was house staff, began to serve you and Jungkook dinner.

“Dad,” Jungkook tried to say but he didn’t get very far.

“I’m just here for the summer, I’m from the city,” You told him with a smile.

“How’d you meet?” Jungkook’s mother asked.

“On the beach,” You told her plainly. She didn’t say anything in response but you could feel the way her eyes narrowed at you like she was trying to read you. You weren’t lying or anything but it felt like she didn’t believe you. Under the table, Jungkook’s hand touched your thigh but in all honesty you didn’t even want him to touch you. It’s not anything serious, you were just confused and uncomfortable in this situation. He should’ve just taken you home or let you call Hoseok.

“A city girl, huh? You must have a big job, right? What do you do?” His brother asked.

“I’m in between work right now,” You said honestly, just as you had told Jungkook who seemed to be open to that idea and understood why. Sometimes, doing the same routine in a career you didn’t have passion anymore left you drained and you needed a change of pace. You explained this to him and he made it all feel okay so why were you being looked at strangely?

“So wasting your time over here is what you want to be doing?” His mom asked.

Jungkook took a deep breath, wanting to speak up but unsure how to do so. He obviously hasn’t told you anything but his relationship with his family is complicated. The added guests made it all the worse. Has he always been such a coward?

“That’s what it seems like,” You said bitterly, looking over at Jungkook with a cold expression.

You don’t remember much of the rest of dinner, only that you hated every second of it and how you just wanted to go home. You checked out of all conversations after a while and watched the tension between them with little interest. What you’ve learned is that Jungkook is good at keeping things from others even when he begs to know more himself.

The irony, it was annoying. By the end of dinner, you didn’t care to know what any of them had to say, much less Yeaun who everyone continued to remind you was his ex that they all loved dearly. They were saying it for a reason, like if you wanted to take her place and be with Jungkook who belonged to a group of people who won’t let outsiders in.

“Well at least she’s pretty,” you remember being told.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing Jungkook said after dinner but you didn’t bother to acknowledge him. Instead, you led the way to his truck so he could take you home.

The car ride was so eerily silent that it felt deafening. He tried and tried to talk to you but you just ignored him, not caring at all for whatever might come out of his mouth and he can’t really blame you.

“You lied to me,” You said finally, staring holes into his dashboard.

“I didn’t mean to,” Jungkook admitted, “Everything I’ve said to you is true.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and looking out the dark window, “Just take me home.”

“Y/n,” Jungkook reached across the middle console for your hand but you crossed your arms over your chest and shifted away from him even more, “I’m sorry, we should’ve just gone somewhere el—“

“Look, it was never going to work out anyway so just take me home and we can both go on with our lives because clearly we’re nothing alike at all,” You said bitterly, “I was just dumb enough to believe we are. It’s been a long day.”

He wanted to argue but for the first time since he’s met you, he’s left silent. He’s a coward, he’s aware of that now and it felt sickening to realize it finally. He’s always been the type to do what he’s told, follow the plan his parents have set out for him and this is the first time he’s realizing how much he hates it.

When the truck pulled up to the front of your house, he began to unbuckle his belt, quietly saying, “I’ll walk you to the d—“

The car door slammed shut in the middle of his words and although he knew it was better for him to give you space, he just couldn’t. He couldn’t let you walk off on him without trying to really hear him out—just let him get his thoughts together. As pathetic as it sounds, Jungkook feels like a kid again. He feels anxious to be ignored or scolded.

Without a care for gentleness, he swung his side door open to the large truck and got down to follow after you, “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t realize they would be home and if I did I wouldn’t have invited you over. I just wanted to spend more time with you.”

“That’s not the problem, Jungkook,” you said back to him, “The problem is that you’re so secretive about everything and fine, whatever, you don’t have to tell me but don’t act like you want to know anything about me then if I can’t expect the same.”

You released a sigh at his silence, turning away, “Go home.”

Your front door slammed in his face shutting him out and he could see people staring through the window; probably overhearing everything and he wanted to disappear. When had things gotten so complicated for him?

He missed the days when he didn’t have anything to worry about but now that he’s starting to see the people around him more clearly, he’s realizing he doesn’t like it at all.

✧

It took you days to think about Jungkook again, mostly because you wanted to ignore him and he was making it easy for you. He has only messaged and called a couple times before he got the hint that you don’t want to talk to him and gave up.

You can’t tell if you preferred that or wished he kept trying but you had to move on. The two of you weren’t dating, you hooked up on a boat before realizing his family are pretentious assholes and wanted nothing to do with him now.

You know he’s not his family but at the same time these are people he surrounds himself with and if he was attracted to someone like Yeaun, there was no way he was into you too. You barely know her but you know enough to see that you’re nothing alike.

“What are you looking at?” Hoseok asked, looming over your shoulder.

“Apartments, I still can’t find anything good, I think I need to go home for a few days and do some in-person tours,” You told him with a sigh, scrolling through listings, sitting alone in the beach themed living room that looked fresh out of a cape cod magazine.

“It’s not a quick commute,” He said, “Besides, I already said you can stay with me till we find you a place, there’s no rush.”

“I know, but there’s nothing better to do,” You said with a shrug.

“It’s called avoiding,” Hyeri said, sitting on the edge of the couch, “So Y/n’s probably not gonna come back if she leaves now. You’re mad at Jungkook.”

“No, I’m not,” you rolled your eyes, “That’s over and I haven’t done anything but laze around all day. I need to get my shit together.”

You just want to go home.

“What’s up with you? You’ve looked mad all day,” Jimin pointed out as he mindlessly dug his feet into the sand. He’s dragged Jungkook out after days of not seeing him but his friend couldn’t care less about the beach or hanging out with him. He actually didn't want to hang out with anyone.

“Is it the thing from the other night?” Jimin asked like it was so simple, “Yeaun was talking about it, so you’ve introduced your new girl to the family and it didn’t go so well?”

“Jimin.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you really my friend?” Jungkook asked, sitting at the bottom of one of the net posts, squinting up at the sun.

“Are you kidding? I’ve been around since you were in diapers, you’re like a brother to me,” Jimin said with a laugh, “I just don’t agree with some of the decisions you make.”

“Like?” He pressed for more.

“I don’t know, I just think you have a lot going for you and lately you’ve been acting like you don’t,” Jimin said, shrugging, “You passed the Bar Exam a while ago and instead of going to your dad’s firm you’re wasting time at Jin’s. You don’t answer the phone when your family calls and you ignore your friends for…”

“Say it.”

“For some chick you don’t know,” Jimin scoffed, “I don’t get it. It’s always been you and I, Chaehi and Yeaun. Always. Since we were kids and suddenly you break it off with one of the only girls who’s been here for you and find someone new to entertain yourself with. It’s weird.”

“Asshole,” Jungkook rolled his eyes, kicking off the ground and leaving his friend behind. He wasn’t sure where he was going but he just wanted to be alone.

Were you really just some girl? Is that what everyone thought? Yes, things had been incredibly easy with you but did that mean you weren’t anything more than a fling? As dramatic as it sounds, every interaction with you has been probably the best he’s ever had.

You’re funny, pretty, smart, and so much more than he ever imagined. You pulled him in and pushed him away in the best way possible. Of course it’s been strange getting rejected but you do it in a way that tells him to keep going. You were always there to listen to his obnoxious flirting and when he did decide to tell you anything about himself, you didn’t judge.

He’s so stupid for not doing the same. He wanted you to open up to him because he wanted to get closer to you but he didn’t allow himself to do it too. It was unfair so he understands why you’re mad but he can’t stand it.

He wants to call you but would you want to listen?

Jungkook found himself walking toward the boardwalk hoping the bustling energy from midday was enough to distract him. He thinks you remind him of something different, being somewhere different where he didn’t have to worry so much about what he did or who he was with. Jimin’s right that lately Jungkook hasn’t been doing anything to be apart of his family’s plans for him. He’s kind of been trying to live in the moment and clearly that wasn’t so bad. That’s how he met you and besides, it’s not like he hasn’t been thinking about his future. He just doesn’t see it here in this small town where everyone knows his name. He sees himself somewhere far in the city where he could just blend in with everyone else and do what he wants to do, be with who he wants to. It’s you, it’s seriously you.

You’ve opened up his eyes a little and he hates that his lack of honesty has pushed you away. He can’t even blame it on the uncomfortable dinner because if he wasn’t such a coward, he would’ve done more. He can’t deny that there’s something up with him and he has no doubt in his mind that you have something to do with it. Barely knowing you has done so much more for him than the people he’s known all his life.

Your best friends wanted you to forget about your plans on leaving, knowing you too well to believe you would come back. You’re not the type to do so. If you set your mind on leaving, even for a short time, you wouldn’t come back especially knowing you could run into Jungkook whenever. Maybe you were a coward too because all you ever wanted to do was run away when things get complicated and the last thing you had wanted was for this trip to get that way too.

They dragged you out of the house for a late lunch that you weren’t even hungry for and as a way to distract you but it did the complete opposite of that. Instead, you were brought to that restaurant you came to with Jungkook and the same server who you’ve seen now talk with a girl Yeaun was always around. They were friends and it should’ve been the first sign that you would never get him. You were never part of the plan around here, you were a step back to everyone involved with him and it made you bitter.

How’d you catch the attention of someone so unavailable?

“Come on, I haven’t bought a single thing here, I’ve been too busy working on my tan,” Hyeri said, pulling you along behind her to a clothing stand of sundresses, “We’ve got a few more weeks here, I think it’s time I fit the vibe, right?”

“Yeah,” You told her, looking through the rack of dresses absentmindedly. You wandered away just a little, to a table filled with jewelry and ran your fingers over certain metals and gems. You weren’t thinking much on what was going on around you, too distracted choosing between gold and silver to notice the person standing yards away looking stunned.

For the first time in over a week, Jungkook has found you again, on the beach, looking as breathtaking as usual. After all you’ve been avoiding him, he can’t help but hesitate. Does he approach you or not?

“Y/n?”

You looked up, brows furrowed slightly at who stood in front of you, “Yeaun.”

“Hey! How good to see you,” She smiled her usual tight smile that never quite reached her eyes. Up close you could see just how perfect she must seem to everyone from her height to her figure and tone of voice. She usually wore gold accessories and bikini tops or dresses. She was your perfect ‘Girl Next Door’ but if you paid enough attention to some of the things she said, you’d see how backhanded it all seemed.

“It was such a surprise to see you the other night. I guess none of us knew you were with Jungkook,” Yeaun said it so casually even if you could tell she was prying, “Where is he by the way?”

“Why don’t you ask his mother? The two of you seem close,” You tried not to sound bitter but you’re sure your body language gave away that you were. You searched for Hyeri who was looking at dresses on herself in the mirror and Hoseok left to get snow cones so once again, you were alone in her presence.

“Yeah, sorry about that, our parents go way back,” Yeaun said with a wave of her hand, “It’s a small town, y’know. Everyone knew we were high school sweethearts and when we got engaged everyone was so excited. You can imagine their surprise when we broke it off—sorry, you probably don’t want to hear about this again. I’m sure Jungkook has said enough.”

“It might sound strange but he doesn’t bring you up at all,” You told her, failing to say how you haven’t talked to him, “I guess he got over it a long time before anyone else did.”

“I guess so,” her stupid smile once again, “I like you, you’re good for him and I’m sorry if his family seemed closed off. They’re kind of exclusive with who they bring around. They don’t want just anyone around their sons. I’m sure you can see why, Jungkook is perfect, right? A lawyer in the making, athletic, kind…”

“Silver or gold?” You asked, holding up two different sets of earrings. She blinked in surprise, choosing one and trying to carry on, “What I mean is, he’s the whole package so everyone wants him but he also has a lot of responsibilities. If someone isn’t able to stand behind them all and support him… maybe they’re not the right fit—especially if they won’t stick around.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, setting the earrings back down and smiling, amused by her audacity, “Who broke it off with who?”

“It was mutual.”

“Doesn’t sound like it was,” You said with a smile, beginning to walk away from her, “But don’t worry, I don’t usually like competing for someone’s attention. I guess I didn’t realize you did, so good luck.”

“Meaning?” Her eyes narrowed.

“Meaning, you’re wasting your breath talking to me because I don’t care what you have to say,” You said sweetly, “But it was so nice seeing you again, hopefully next time we’ll have something new to talk about.”

With that, you left her behind, nearly walking past Hyeri on the way, “Where you going?”

“My phone’s dying, I’m going the house,” you told her quickly, continuing to leave before anyone else could run into you.

“What’d you say to Y/n?” Jungkook asked, pushing his way through the crowds of people, getting to the stand too late and watching you walk away.

“Nothing,” Yeaun raised her hands in feigned surrender, “I was just catching up. Why so worried?”

“Where’s she going?” Jungkook asked Hyeri, ignoring Yeaun who called for him.

“To the house?” Hyeri said, confused by whatever she missed but she couldn’t even ask when Jungkook practically ran after you.

You cut through the beach instead of taking the long route down the street. You walked farther and farther away from him but he never stopped.

“Y/n! Can we talk?” He asks, catching you by surprise but you didn’t even act like it. You merely threw him a glance before walking faster.

“I’m kind of in a hurry,” You lied, stepping over the grassy parts in the white sand where you could see more residential properties.

“Look, I’m sorry. I really am, I should’ve been more up front from the beginning but I swear I didn’t keep things from you to hurt you,” Jungkook said, not stopping his pace even when he can see your house in the distance.

“It’s fine, I’m over it,” You told him, not turning back again as you looked up at the back deck of your house. You still walked closer to down the shore than the trail but you would get there soon.

“But I’m not, I… can’t stand the thought of you being done with me,” Jungkook said honestly, “Since I’ve met you all I can do is think about you and I’m kicking myself over letting you find things out in a hard way. I don’t like the way you were talked to and I should’ve said more but I didn’t and I regret it so much.”

“Jungkook, I don’t care,” you groaned, whipping around to face him, “I don’t care that you kept things from me. I don’t care that there’s something seriously wrong with your family or your ex fiancée. I don’t care if everyone thinks I’m not good enough for you and do you want to know why? Because it’s the summer and I’m not from here and it was fun to fool around in the moment but it’s too complicated now. I don't want anything to do with it. Are you getting it now? I want to go home and forget all about this.”

“You want to leave?” He asked, getting closer and closer, “And what happens then? We just never see each other again because I didn’t mean anything to you?”

“I guess if that’s how you’re seeing it—“

“Bullshit,” He scoffed, “I don’t care how long we’ve known each other or not, you want me just as much as I want you but you’re letting everything else get in the way. I’m sorry, I don’t know what else I can say or do to express that.”

“I’m leaving,” You argued, stepping away, “I’m going back to my normal life and you can go back to yours. Stop making this a bigger deal than it was.”

“What if I don’t want to? What if I think you’re the best thing to happen to me in a while and the thought of you just leaving doesn’t sit right with me? What if I say I don’t want this to just be a summer thing and I will follow you wherever you go if it means I get to talk to you more?” Jungkook kept going.

“Oh my god, Jungkook. Open your eyes! Join the real world, please!” You groaned, too frustrated to bother getting away, “We still don’t know much about each other, clearly. You live in this perfect little bubble with people who care about you and have plans for you. Why can’t you see that? Why are you wanting to throw that away for someone you barely know?”

“I’m not mad, I promise,” You tried to say, “Our lives are just too different and I’m ready to go back to mine—“

Your words were cut off by the rough pull into his arms. Jungkook’s touch was tender yet forceful, dragging your face toward his until your lips clashed messily and you kissed him back. Like a fool, you kissed him too despite everything you were saying.

It made your heart race, practically feeling his want for you and unable to help yourself from succumbing to it.

He can’t remember how long the kiss was, but long enough for his chest to grow heavy with a need to breathe that he had to pull away. His forehead rested against yours, “If you still want to leave… okay. I can’t make you stay but I really want you to, Y/n.”

You didn’t say anything, knowing you did want to leave. At this point it was more for yourself. No matter how harsh they were, they were right. You needed to get your act together and stop avoiding the problems in your life and that meant you needed to go home.

“And I promise that I’m going to see you again whether it be here or somewhere else,” Jungkook said.

FOUR WEEKS LATER

Jungkook was enamored by city life, he’s grown to learn about himself. Something about the tall skyscrapers and bustling traffic excited him like no other while other people hated them. Of course he missed the beach, surfing, volleyball, his friends… but this was for himself. He needed to do something on his own even if it meant doing something unimaginable but it was for the better.

He misses working with cars but he knows better. He put all that work into law school just so he could avoid it and do something else and he needed that to stop. Even if he didn’t work in his father’s firm, that didn’t mean he couldn’t get his foot in the door somewhere else.

After you left and all his distractions were gone, he was able to focus more on what he wanted to do. He got on his laptop to look at internships at other law firms and one day, in his endless searching, he found a small office to work in. It was in the city and it didn’t take him long to pack up his things and go to it. It started problems—of course— but it didn’t stop him, especially knowing you were somewhere here too.

You’ve barely talked since you moved back but he still misses you. He missed you and him on the beach or sailing in the sea. He misses making you laugh or roll your eyes and he wonders how you’re doing. He kept in touch with Hoseok and Hyeri after you left and when they followed suit at the end of vacation, he wanted to ask them about you but he knew better. He knows you weren’t just a fling but maybe one day you’ll come back and give it another shot.

“Iced Americano?”

“I didn’t order one,” Jungkook said as he sat alone at a table in a nice cafe. He didn’t look up until the cup was set down in front of him and when he was ready to tell the barista it wasn’t for him, he froze.

“I know, you don’t really give me ‘Coffee Drinker’ vibes but I figured it was worth a shot,” You sat down across from him.

“Are you stalking me?” He asked, dumbfounded and confused but more excited than anything. He couldn’t believe you were here, at the same place as him by chance.

“Well, I was going to ask the same, this is my usual stop before work and I’ve never seen you here before,” You said, continuing the conversation with him like it never ended.

Jungkook couldn’t help but smile, “Well, you see, I’m new to town and trying new places since this is on my way to work.”

“Is it?” You asked, “You must live around here.”

“As it turns out I do,” Jungkook cleared his throat, “It’s a recent move but one I don’t regret.”

“How are you?” You asked with a shy smile and flushed cheeks, the autumn air beginning to take over.

“Better now—after this coffee I mean,” he teased, taking a sip and scrunching his face in disgust.

You bit your lip in thought, “Actually um, it’s good I’ve run into you. I think there’s some things we should talk about but I have to get to work soon.”

“Well I still have your number, and we can always catch up over dinner?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” You smiled nervously, standing up, “Tonight?”

That made his heart race, “It’s a date.”

::.

holy shit that took forever for me to update

idk how I feel about this but also after a while I think too hard on my work and can’t look at it anymore so please lmk when you think

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[obsessedwithceleste]

Lessons in Love

(Or why Enzo should be banned from advanced potion making)

Theodore Nott x Ravenclaw Reader

Summary: Ft. Enzo being bad at potions, the Ravenclaw common room door, and more than one accidental love confession.

word count: 3.3k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

A deep sigh escapes your lips as you walk purposefully through the empty halls of the castle. You loved Enzo. Really, you did. But how that bastard had managed to squeeze enough O.W.Ls out of his arse to get into advanced potion making was absolutely beyond you.

It’s not that you thought your childhood best friend was dumb per se. You simply thought his talents lay elsewhere. Like in herbology. Or anywhere really where adding a pinch too much powdered moonstone didn’t result in a glittery pink potion exploding all over the front of your robes. This never would have happened of course, if your usual, equally talented, potions partner, Theodore Nott, had actually bothered to show up, but god only knew where that boy had wandered off to.

Walking into classes earlier that day you had been giddy with excitement. While potions may not have been Enzo’s forte, it was most definitely yours and advanced potions was finally giving you the challenge you had been craving. Amortentia, your professor had said, is the strongest love potion in the world, thereby making it exceptionally difficult to brew. You already knew this of course as it had all been detailed in the days readings. Not only would it make someone obsessively in love, but it also had an addictive scent, changing to fit what one was most attracted to. Now that was all well and good until one was covered in it.

Originally, you figured that all would be fine. Enzo profusely apologized, quickly following up with a joke about how “at least you’ll smell nice for once.” But oh how right he’d been. It started with students accidentally bumping into you in the corridor as you went from class to class as they subconsciously leaned in to follow the alluring scent. A minor inconvenience you thought. (Although you did have to choose to ignore that third year almost getting impaled on a statue’s sword because he wasn’t paying attention after you passed.)

But then Cho and Marietta couldn’t stop leaning in to get a whiff of the scent all throughout the start of charms, causing Flitwick to continuously shoot concerned glances at the three of you. You eventually caved, moving quickly and silently to the back of the class room where Enzo was sat with the rest of the Slytherins. As soon as he saw you making your way over, he leaned over, whispering something in Daphne’s ear beside him. She gives you a quick look of knowing pity before moving into the empty seats usually claimed by Theodore and Matteo who were, unsurprisingly, still no where to be found.

“For what it’s worth, I really am sorry,” Enzo mumbles, at least having the decency to look embarrassed as you plop into the seat beside him.

“This is horrible! I did not need to know that Marietta’s amortentia smells like bloody Cormac McLaggen or whatever his name is,” you hiss in response.

Enzo lets out a quiet chuckle, sneaking a quick glance at your house mate.

“Hey,” he whispers after a moment, “What do you smell anyway? You must be going mad having that stuff all over you.”

You shoot a glare at your friend. You had a sinking feeling he already knew, considering he had been poking fun at you for weeks. You shudder remembering all those disgusting kissy faces Enzo had been making at you from across the library just last week. Bloody bastard was fishing for confirmation. Maybe if you ignore him, he’ll simply go away you think to yourself. Enzo however, takes your silence as an admission of guilt, a grin spreading across his face.

“I knew it. So tell me y/n, what does dear Theodore Nott smell like? Cigarette smoke? Hippogriff dung?” He snickers.

“He is my best friend, Lorenzo,” you whisper, giving the boy beside you another withering glare.

Enzo’s face falls at this.

“I’m your best friend.” He grumbles.

“I don’t know why. You’re mean to me,” you reply with exasperation.

He immediately perks up again at this, giving you a slight nudge.

“So I’m right? You do like Theo?” He asks excitedly.

“Enzo, I will avada you, and make it look like an accident,” you hiss in response.

“Come on, y/n, I’m your best friend, you have to tell me these things,” he pouts.

“Oh really? Like how you have to tell me about how you’re probably smelling Daphne’s shampoo right now? Or is it her lavender perfume?” You ask innocently, batting your lashes.

Enzo goes beet red at this, gesturing wildly at you to lower your voice.

“Hush woman! She’s right there!” He hisses.

You say nothing, only giving him a triumphant grin before turning back to Flitwick to try to salvage what few notes you’d been able to take down that lesson.

The final straw occurred during ancient runes when poor, unsuspecting Hermione sat down behind you and asked with a look of bewilderment if you had been showered with Draco’s cologne that morning. Her look of absolute horror only grew as you told her of your distressing situation. You thought she might faint when she realized that Draco had been within earshot and now had a shit eating grin on his face. With a sigh of defeat, you give Hermione an apologetic smile before deciding it was time to turn in the white flag of defeat.

You breathe a heavy sigh of relief as you finally come to a stop outside your common room door. You then frown, realizing you had in fact, made it to your common room door.

“What makes a raven like a writing desk?” The metallic voice of the Ravenclaw common room door asks, springing to life.

This putrid, skanky little-

“You wouldn’t want me to shove either of them up your ars-“

A low whistle catches your attention before you’re able to finish cursing out your common room’s door thoroughly.

“Whoa there feisty, let the eagle be,” Theo’s voice laughs as he steps into view.

The strong scent of roasted coffee beans and smoke that had been burning your nostrils all day hits you once again like a ton of bricks. Giving the eagle another withering glare, you turn your full attention to the looming threat approaching. You would sooner throw yourself off of the astronomy tower than let Theo know that your amortentia smelled like him. Someone had to keep the boy’s bloody ego in check.

“Full offense Theodore, I’ve had a horrendously awful day today, and I really don’t have time for whatever nonsense you’re about to start.” You say with a roll of your eyes as you cross your arms at the boy in front of you.

Theo laughs again, mirroring your movements as he leans against one of the pillars lining the halls.

“Poor principessa. Have a hard day in classes without me?” He asks with a smirk.

You scowl in response. It didn’t help that you had, in fact, missed the brunette’s comforting, albeit annoying, presence all day, but you weren’t about to admit that.

“Now that you mention it, I didn’t even realize you were missing. What snake hole did you slither off to today?” You ask, the lie sliding easily off your lips.

Theo cocks as eyebrow at that but leaves it be.

“Matteo wanted to ditch, had to baby sit. Make sure he didn’t get into too much trouble. You know how it goes,” Theo replied shrugging his shoulders. “And what’s a pretty little witch like yourself doing skiving off class?”

Theo takes another step forward.

“Don’t come closer!” You yelp before you can stop yourself. You had no interest knowing what Theo would smell if he got close enough. He frowns at you however.

“And why not?” He challenges, taking another step towards you. This boy really did not take well to being told what to do.

“I- I smell. Really bad. Had to leave class, I just- ya know, smelled, so bad” You splutter, mentally kicking yourself. Who says that in front of the guy they like? Why were you like this?

Theo’s thick brows shoot up at your declaration before he takes a final large step towards you and leans in, pressing his hand against your forehead before moving it down to feel your cheek.

“Y/n are you ill? Do you need to go see Madam Pomfrey? I can walk you there if you’d like.” He says, any bit of snark his voice previously held long gone.

“I’m fine Theodore, really.” you say, batting his hand away.

“Are you sure?” He asks, looking at you disbelievingly.

He leans in again and takes in a whiff of your scent and you immediately tense, freezing where you are. God damn it. His brows furrow.

“Y/n, you smell perfectly normal, maybe a bit stronger than usual, but definitely not bad.” He says, looking even more confused.

Before you’re able to fully process the words that just came out of Theo’s mouth, Enzo and Pansy come barreling down the hall towards the two of you in a fit of giggles.

“Y/n! y/n, you know I’m sorry, really I am, but if dousing you in amortentia is all it takes to get Draco and Granger to make complete fools of themselves in front of each other, I’d do it again!” Enzo exclaims between breathy laughs. “You haven’t seen ferret boy run past, by chance, by the way have you?

“Sorry, amor-what now?” Theo asks, blinking as he purses his lips.

You look between the three of your friends in alarm, praying no one mentioned anything after Theo had just announced that you smelled perfectly normal to him.

“Oh, you’re going to wish you were there! After you left, Draco was so pleased with himself. Looked like a kid on Christmas. Kept trying to flirt with Hermione until she finally sent a flock of doves to run him out of the classroom! Professor wasn’t too happy bout that one. Let us go early to find the blonde loon,” Enzo says, completely ignoring Theo’s question.

“I’m sorry, amor-WHAT?” Theo asks again, louder this time.

You feel yourself cringe.

“Amortentia.” Pansy snorts. “Do try and keep up Teddy.”

“This is what you get for always skiving off class with Matteo,” Enzo adds, nodding at the boy as if he were his disappointed mother.

“Mhmm. Enzo totally floozied over y/n’s potion this morning. Blew it up all over her and she’s been having people wander up to her to take a sniff all day.” Pansy tells him with a sniff.

Theo blinks again before slowly meeting your eyes as what he said only moments earlier begins to sink in. Pansy, ever the cunning witch, was lightening quick to catch on.

“Speaking of which, I am suddenly so interested in what exactly it is that you smell, dearest Teddy,” Pansy says as her eyes flicker between the two of you, a mischievous grin growing on her face.

Theo scowls at the nickname.

“Campfire.”

“Old parchment.” You say in unison.

Pansy smirks.

“Do you smell that Enzo?” She asks, making a show of sniffing the air around her. “I think I smell- a liar. Or two.”

Enzo only snickers as he eyes the both of you up. He knew exactly what you had been smelling all day and you begin to feel panic rise up in your chest. You send a menacing glare his way, daring him to open his mouth.

“Come on Pans, I don’t think Draco and Granger are the only ones who’ll be chatting up tonight,” he says finally.

Glaring at the pair’s disappearing backs, you once again turn slowly back to the problem at hand.

“Soo,” Theo starts at the same time you blurt out,

“This is entirely your fault.”

Theo’s mouth drops open, and he has the audacity to look offended.

“How do you figure mi amore?” He asks.

“You’re supposed to be my partner in potions, but you weren’t there today, so I had to work with,” you shudder, “Enzo.”

Rolling his eyes at your dramatics and giving you a small smile, Theo lets himself relax, leaning on the wall as he towers over you.

“Enzo isn’t so bad,” he says, slowly bringing a hand up to rest on your waist, gently moving you towards him. You pretend not to notice, taking a small, nervous step forward.

“He singed off Matteo’s eyebrows last year. The year before that, he didn’t realize there was a difference between fire flower and fired flour, and his potion melted through the floor. I heard a Puff call him Slytherin’s Seamus,” you retort. “Do you realize how bad you have to be at something to get made fun of by a Hufflepuff?” He snorts at that, cocking his head in agreement.

“Well I’m sorry alright? I’ll make it up to you.”

“You’ll have to. I have to go in again to remake the potion. Don’t want that bad mark on my grade.”

Theo only hums at this, as you’re finally standing nose to chest with him, forcing you to tilt your head up to still see his face.

“You really do smell nice,” he murmurs, pressing his nose lightly into your hair.

You make a face before nuzzling into his chest to hide the redness growing on your cheeks.

“I’m not talking about this in public. I simply refuse,” you say, trying to melt into him from pure embarrassment.

Theo looks down at you with a devilishly handsome grin before turning back to your long forgotten common room door.

“Hey, open up. She technically answered your little riddle earlier,” he tells the door.

The eagle grumbles something unintelligible as it starts to life again.

“I can always melt you down. I’m sure you’d make a great piss pot,” Theo threatens, going to pull out his wand.

The door swings open rather violently and you’re pretty sure you can hear a rather colorful string of curses come out of the eagle’s beak as you make your way inside. Having been there a thousand times before, Theo easily leads you to your shared, but thankfully empty, dorm room, closing the door behind you.

“You really don’t get along with that eagle, do you principessa?” He asks, throwing his shoes off and making himself comfortable on your bed like he usually did.

“Like you’re any better. You just threatened to turn it into a chamber pot,” you retort, falling easily back into your usual banter. This was fine. This was safe.

Theo only raises a brow at you.

“The blasted door is still mad at me for making a ur mum joke when it asked me if a chicken came before the egg in front of a bunch of second years.” You admit, letting your arms fall to your side.

Theo lets out a loud laugh at that shaking his head and extending his arm for you. You walk carefully towards the bed before hesitantly accepting his invitation. It’s not that cuddling with Theo was something unfamiliar to you, as much as you were hyper aware of the slightly awkward tension between the two of you that wasn’t usually there. You slide your shoes off as well before curling up next to him and laying your head on his chest. The two of you lay in silence and you slowly let your eyelids flutter shut, lost in the feeling of Theo’s chest rising and falling.

“You know. You still haven’t told me what your amortentia smells like,” Theo says, finally breaking the silence as he gently brings his hand up to run his fingers through your hair.

“Take a wild fucking guess,” you murmur, refusing to open your eyes and determined to get further lost in his warm touch.

He only hums in response, continuing to comb his fingers through the soft locks of hair.

“You know when Enzo asked me if I smelled you today, he thought you’d smell like hippogriff dung,” you say eventually.

“Fucking tosser. What did that git smell? Wild lavender?”

“And Daphne’s shampoo.”

You feel Theo snort as if he expected no less of your ever romantic best friend. Silence once again rolls over the both of you as you absentmindedly play with the edge of his shirt, rolling the soft fabric between your fingers nervously. The quiet begins to feel suffocating, so you open your mouth to speak, but Theo beats you to it.

“Champagne. And that perfume you always use. With the little white flowers. Lilies of the valley, right?” Theo says.

You open your eyes to look at him in confusion.

“That’s what you smell like.” He says, carefully running his hand down your spine, sending a shiver through you.

“I smell roasted coffee. And smoke. Not the fire-y kind though. The kind that sticks to your clothes cause you refuse to quit smoking.” You respond, looking into his eyes warily for his reaction.

Theo only smirks in response, a cocky grin spreading across his face.

“Aw mi amore, I’m what you’re most attracted to?” He asks, the teasing bait evident in his voice.

You feel heat rise to your cheeks as Theo gazed intently down at you in his arms.

“Shut up Theodore. You sure know how to ruin a moment,” you say, once again burying your face in a chest.

You feel his chest rumble with laughter before his hand snakes it way up to your chin, tilting your head up and capturing your lips with his. His lips are softer than you imagined as he moves them gently against yours. You let a soft gasp escape and Theo pulls you closer, gripping your waste tightly, and shifting you on top of him, deepening the kiss until you’re both left gasping for air.

“Was that more of what you had in mind amore?” He asks with an innocent smile, looking up at you with what you could only describe as his best baby seal eyes.

“I mean, you were definitely significantly more shirtless when I imagined it, but I can settle.” You joke.

Theo’s eyes darken however, and he lifts you as if you weigh nothing, flipping you over so that he now hovered above you, your back pinned against the bed beneath you. With one swift movement, Theo pulls his shirt up and over his head before lowering himself back down, his chest now pressed against yours.

“Better?”

You can’t help but laugh at the boy’s determination as your eyes shamelessly take in the lean muscle and tanned skin that was current above you.

“Theodore, as much as I enjoy this, you have to put your clothes on. Cho or Marietta could walk in at any time,” you tell him as you begin to make soft circles across his waist line with your thumbs, admiring the boy in front of you.

“Mm. You mouth is saying one thing, but these,” he says, placing his hands over yours, “are saying something else entirely.”

You roll your eyes, pulling your hands out from under his and handing him his discarded shirt.

“One kiss?” He asks, looking at the shirt as if it had mortally offended him.

“One kiss.”

He leans down, once again capturing your lips with his, but with more intensity this time. You feel one of his hands brush your waist as his thumb pushes up under your shirt, the rest of his hand following soon after, gripping tightly at the warm skin beneath. You let out a breathy moan when he flicks his tongue across your bottom lip, and he takes it as an invitation to let his tongue explore the rest of your mouth.

An awkward cough shakes you from the haze and you look up, over Theo’s shoulder to see Cho standing guiltily in the doorway.

“Sorry,” she says, looking literally anywhere but you and the shirtless boy above you. “Bad time?”

You cover your eyes in embarrassment, feeling heat once again rush to your cheeks.

“What did I tell you!” You groan, letting your head fall back onto your mound of pillows. Meanwhile Theo has a much too self satisfied grin across his face.

[cherryblossom-heart]

Responsibilities (6.5/8)

bestfriend!Nanami x Reader

Masterlist

Content warning: ANGST, Toji Fushiguro is his own warning, Kento having something with an unknown female character.

A/N: I am soooo sorry for this angst but is necesary so we understand everything that happened at the party. Don't worry, part 7 will be fully smau and its coming soon. If this is the first you see of this series please go to the previous parts to catch on. You're welcomed to send me an ask with any comments, questions, etc., you have on this. Also if I missed anyone in the taglist let me know 😊

Word count: 3.2 K

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

“Shot, shot, shot.”

A small smile spread across Kento’s lips, his eyes focused on your display. Glass after glass, you emptied all six of them in front of you with a grin on your face. The small group of people that surrounded you cheered, the echo of their acclamations competing with the bass of the tacky house party playlist Gojo had put on.

Nanami stayed by the sidelines as always, never a fan of crowds or even reunions like this one. But every rule has an exception and to Nanami’s life you were the exception for everything.

He hadn’t noticed when it had begun. Maybe it had been when you were kids, your hand covered in dirt touching his clean and polished one to drag him out to play with the other kids. Or in your teenage years, your fingers entwined with his as you dragged him to another house party he hadn’t intended to go. Perhaps it was in college when he let you sleep at his place when you had been assigned a roommate from hell and every now and then you would end up falling asleep on his shoulder as you tried to finish whatever assignments you had.

The truth was, no matter how much he tried to explain it, there wasn’t an exact logic to his actions. He hated parties but he enjoyed going with you, your carefree dancing always igniting something deep in his chest. He hated loud music, but he loved the way your eyes would close as you sang to the top of your lungs as he drove you around.

He hated immature personalities, Gojo’s antics only being tolerable for minutes. And yet he found himself amused by your quips and shenanigans you would drag him along with, his heart beating out of his chest as the mischievous grin you wore tore his defenses away.

Nanami couldn’t say when everything had begun, but he knew exactly when he first noticed it. The harsh, undeserving words that had drifted you apart for weeks had been enough of a wakeup call, the pain in his chest had left him in a panic at the moment. Once you had given him a second chance his lungs could finally take a deep breath, free from the strange constriction your apathy gave him.

He had tried getting you out of his head to the point he had downloaded a few dating apps hoping he could find someone else to occupy his thoughts. The second he had matched with someone his fingers quickly deleted the app leaving him with the realization he tried to avoid.

He was in love.

No, it was more than that. Your name was carved in his heart, his soul belonging to the set of bright eyes that laughed at his dry humor as if he was the funniest man on earth. It belonged to the smile that would always welcome him whenever he entered a room or the soft fingers that would run through his hair as his head laid on top of your lap

Nanami had never been a man to believe in soulmates, but if fate would have it and they turned out to be true he believed you were his. And not even then he could explain the extent of his emotions, the crushing weight of his love for you could simply not be measured.

Loving your best friends carried its consequences as Nanami would find out sooner than later.

Green eyes and a scar had become an instant sign of anger for him. The broad, tall, muscular man always carried his characteristic smirk, a trait that also bothered Kento to his bones. But perhaps the thing that he hated the most was the way his hands would wander along your body, fingers always finding a patch of uncovered skin where he could trace senseless figures. Your lack of a negative reaction was enough to tick him off.

He saw it the night he had ended up intoxicated and crashing at your place, the almost too insignificant glint in your eyes as you looked at the blacked haired man. Your smile was almost as bright as the one you always wore when you talked to him.

Kento hated the pit that formed in the bottom of his stomach every time you would mention him.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Beautiful, Kento’s mind recited as his eyes met yours

Your breath was raggedy, beads of sweat trailing down your cheeks. Your makeup was no longer intact, a couple of smudges trailed down your eyes, mascara specs darkening your eyes. The lipstick shade you wore was almost gone, a faint tone left behind.

“Keep your penny, it’s nothing too interesting.” Nanami’s answer came as you scooted over next to him, his right arm surrounding your frame.

“I highly doubt that. Everything about you is interesting, Nanamin.”

Kento’s breath got kicked out of his lungs. How was it possible for you to make him feel this way without even trying?

Were you aware of the effect your words, your soft touch, your sweet glances had on him?

Were you aware of his love for you?

“I believe I owe you a dance.” You extended your hand gesturing for him to take it.

“If I remember correctly, you owe me as many as I want.” Kento said, fingers entwining with yours.

You smiled, a bright beautiful smile that made his world stop.

“Well, let me start paying my debts.”

Minutes later Kento found himself in the middle of Gojo’s house, surrounded by the same crowd he had been trying to avoid as he held your body against his. You had guided him through the crowd of people, several of them stopping you along the way to congratulate you on your birthday. You would acknowledge them, perhaps exchanging a couple of words with them along the way, but your attention remained on him, your hand squeezing his every now and then to make sure he was alright.

Your hips moved to the rhythm of the music, the tune belonging to a song he hadn’t heard before, your arms were up in the air, fingers dancing along the air as if somehow you were making the most beautiful painting with them. Watching you dance was like staring at a work of art, every little movement you made was a sight to be seen.

Nanami’s body wasn’t sure how to move, his feet didn’t seem to want to follow the beat of the music, his arms felt uncomfortable as he tried to move them around. His body had begun to tense up the more he analyzed his own movements. You must’ve noticed it as well as you had stopped your movements only to get closer to him, your hand finding his again.

Cold fingeres reached to caress his face, carefully putting back in place a strand of his hair out of place. With a tenderness so foreign to him yet so familiar when it came to you, your hand cupped his cheek.

You looked at him and suddenly everything was alright.

“Relax, Kento. Just grab my hand and follow the music.”

Nanami’s left hand held onto yours while the right one fell on your waist, pushing you against his chest. If someone else would’ve seen, you two it wouldn’t have made sense to them. You two weren’t following the music, your pace not even close to what the rest of the people around were dancing to. Yet it didn’t matter, it was as if a bubble had appeared, separating you from the rest. Kento and you were following music that no one else around could hear, your head falling to his chest as the song changed.

For a moment, Nanami felt braver than ever. Maybe it was the intimacy of the moment what fueled him as he was convinced you had never looked at someone else the way you looked at him. Or maybe it was the fact that, as he pushed you closer to him, the more you seemed to nestle on his chest having caught you smelling his favorite cologne that you had gifted him.

Whatever it was, it made Kento brave enough to make you look at him. The hand that held onto yours lifted your chin, his touch leaving goose bumps on your skin. He stared into your eyes, for the first time not being shy of appreciating your beauty. Your eyes held galaxies of thoughts and emotions, and he was more than happy to explore all of them.

“Thank you for this, Ken.”

Ken.

A nickname he hated but he loved the rare times you’d say it.

He wanted you to say it forever.

“Don’t thank me, it’s the least you deserve.”

Your arms surrounded his neck.

“Be careful, Ken or I might start thinking you like me.”

Your name left his lips in a whisper, his eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes. He was surprised when he found you doing the same, your eyes lingering longer on his lips.

“Kento…” you whispered, inches away from his lips. “I— “

“Happy birthday, party girl!”

Gojo’s words rumbled across the room, bringing attention to you. Nanami’s hands fell to his side as you jumped away from him looking like a deer caught in headlights. Satoru made his way to you along with Shoko and a cake he wasn’t sure was enough for everyone in the room.

Nanami made a mental note on researching what the easiest way was to get rid of a 6’3 body.

The crowd pushed you away from him, guiding you to the table where Satoru had placed the cake. You tried talking to them, your eyes searching for his in the sea of people. When you finally found him, Nanami just gave you a small smile and a nod, gesturing you to enjoy your celebration.

You mouthed a small “I’m sorry” to him as you turned your attention to the cake.

Kento let out a sigh as he made his way back to the kitchen bar, leaning against it. A gigantic sparkling candle decorated the middle of the cake making your eyes open wide in surprise. The tune of Happy Birthday started playing, everyone around joining in the celebration making you cover your face in embarrassment.

Adorable.

“How long have you been in love with her?” A deep voice asked next to him.

Kento looked at the green-eyed man that had silently slithered his way next to him.  Fushiguro carried a solo red cup in his hand, his face still carrying that same awful smirk that irked Kento. Toji’s eyes were focused on you, but Nanami could tell his attention was on him, expecting a response.

“I– “

“Don’t try to lie, it’s written all over your face.”

Kento sighed, he was right. There was no point in lying, yet he couldn’t bring himself to say it, not to him. Not before he could tell you.

“It’s none of your business.”

Fushiguro laughed as he took another sip from his drink

“It is when you’re trying to get with my girl.”

The flames of anger began rising in Kento’s chest, a bitter taste settling in the back of his tongue.

“I believe she isn’t aware she is ‘your girl’.” He quipped. “I don’t think she wants the title, or else she wouldn’t keep insisting your relationship is casual.”

Toji’s grip tightened around his cup, the sides of it cracking slightly at the pressure. Now it was Nanami’s turn to sport that idiotic smirk.

“Well, you certainly got me there.” Fushiguro conceded. “But it has to hurt still, doesn’t it?”

“You– “

“I mean, you guys have known each other for how long? Over fifteen years and nothing has ever happened. Not a single kiss, nothing even close. I’ve known her for less than two months and I’ve already fucked her all over her apartment.”

Nanami could count with a single hand the number of times he had restored to violence; the last time he had gotten into a petty fistfight being when he was still in high school. Afterwards he would compose himself and regret his actions, embarrassed of such a public display of his anger.

None of those times Nanami had ever felt such rage, the only thing holding him back being your birthday celebration. As much as he hated the man, he would hate it even more to ruin the night for you.

“You should learn to keep your mouth shut about her private life.”

Toji snorted. “What? You’re going to play the “best friend” role again? Come in your white horse and defend her honor? Try to woo her with your gifts and hope she fucks you?”

“Better than playing the role of a man with two kids who can’t seem to find a stable relationship at his age or keep himself out of jail. Are you trying to get her to play the stepmother role as well?”

“Well, it seems that’s what gets her going, isn’t it?”

Finally, the two men faced each other, both scrutinizing each other under their gaze. Kento knew as much anger as he held inside, he could see his feelings reflected on the other man. He couldn’t blame him, any man would be lucky to get your attention, let alone a man like him.

The crowd cheering drifted away the men’s attention, your wide smile as you blew out the candles reminded Kento the reason why he was there, the flames of anger beginning to dwell as the warmth of his chest expanded through his body. He had already wasted enough time with Fushiguro.

“I don’t intend to ‘steal your girl’ Fushiguro, I cannot steal something that isn’t yours to own. She’s grown enough to know what she wants and that’s not for us to decide. Whether it is you or whoever else she is with I will always respect her choices.” Kento looked back at the man next to him, his eyes darkening with his last words. “But I will tell you that if you hurt her, I’ll make sure your stay at prison will feel like a spa visit, do I make myself clear?”

A moment went by without an answer and Kento thought the conversation was over, but as it is with a man with Toji’s personality, he always had to have the last word.

“Understood, boss.” He crashed his cup in his hands, throwing it away in the can behind the kitchen bar. “You know, I asked her once if anything had happened between you two. I mean, I had to make sure you weren’t an ex or something, especially with all the gifts and how close you guys are. You know what she said?” Kento didn’t give an answer, knowing well he was going to talk anyways. “She laughed. You should’ve seen her, it was as if I had asked the funniest question ever. I swear I saw tears in her eyes.” He chuckled. “She said there wasn’t and there never would be anything between you. That you were like the brother she didn’t have and dating you would almost feel incestuous.”

Toji’s attention went back to you, as everyone started to clear off from you as they got a slice of cake. His hand brushed his hair in place as he passed in front of Kento. “I think you have more of a shot with her.” He nodded to a girl Nanami hadn’t noticed before, her gaze turning as his hazel eyes connected with hers. Toji patted him in the shoulder before he left, not before getting his last lick. “I’d take it if I were you champ, it’s not like she’s going to care if you sleep around with other people.”

The green-eyed man made his way to you, his hand falling to your hips as he brought you in for a kiss.

For the first time in his life, Nanami felt his heart breaking. The longer your kiss lasted the more he felt a wave of unknown emotions drowning him, tearing every part of his heart that you ignited.

Fushiguro might’ve been a bastard, but he was right. There was never a time you had looked at him in any other way other than a best friend, let alone a romantic partner. He was an idiot for thinking your words meant anything, that your flirting was anything more than friendly, as it was you had always been a flirtations person. He wasn’t especial.

In an attempt of self-preservation for what remained of his heart he took a shot of vodka, hoping the burn would be enough to make him forget for a little while. He looked around the room, looking for anything that could help him, an easy way of distracting. That’s when he saw her again, the unknown girl he had never seen before.

Nanami didn’t remember how he had gotten himself in a bedroom in Gojo’s house, or when he had taken his shirt off as a girl whose name couldn’t even remember straddled him. He didn’t remember how her lips tasted or the tone of her voice as she had introduced herself to him. He couldn’t even remember the color of the girls’ eyes as she kissed him.

Her hands traveled along his body until they found his crotch making his head roll back. He allowed his hands to explore the girl’s body, slowing cupping her ass as she tried to undo his pants. This situation should’ve brought him some comfort, the sensations of every kiss, every touch should’ve been enough to help him in some capacity. Yet the only thing on his mind was you and the guilt building up in the back of his throat.

Everything about this felt wrong and he couldn’t explain why until he opened his eyes and the person in front of him wasn’t you.

Every time he kissed her, he pictured your lips, soft and delicate against his. Every time he touched her, he pictured your tender skin against his expecting the smell of your body wash to linger on his nose, instead a foreign scent invaded his nostrils. He expected to hear your voice with every pant of his name, but the unfamiliarity of the girl’s tone made his muscles tense up. This wasn’t what he wanted, he couldn’t fool himself into do it.

Then, the unthinkable happened—the very thing he had feared all along.

The light and commotion from the hallway caught his attention as he realized someone had opened the door. He pulled himself apart from the girl, moving his face to the side so he could see the uninvited guest. He only had a second to react before you shut the door with a slam, it’s echo filling the room.

He pushed her away, not caring for pleasantries as he scrambled to get his things together. He could hear the girls angry tone complaining, undoubtedly labeling him as an asshole. None of it mattered though. Not when he had seen the pain in your eyes as you saw the scene in front of you.

When he finally found his phone, he saw the plethora of messages you had sent him, all of them relating your trial until you finally found him. Before he could start typing, two new messages popped up.

Oh

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.

Vile rose to his throat as he pleaded you to come back.

It’s ok Nanami, I’ll catch you later.

Have fun

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Taglist

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[ddarker-dreams]

Understatement.

Wanderer x Reader.

Warnings: None. Word count: 1.2k.

Your bag carries plenty of essentials. 

Stationery, lip balm, keys to your apartment; stuff of that nature. Then there’s your personal favorite, a wallet embroidered with dandelions — your hometown’s flower — into the fabric. It’d been sent to you without a return address on your birthday, shrouding the gifter in mystery. All of these items accompany you on a day-to-day basis. 

That aside, this list has another unifying factor. Each object is inert. Completely still. Incapable of moving without an outside force. Now, this isn’t a revelation that’ll shift society and be recorded in history books for generations to come. It’s common sense. A concept children grasp before they even know what ‘gravity’ is. 

As for why you’re taking a lengthy mental inventory of your belongings… 

Well. 

Something in there is moving. Rustling about, the vague outline of its body pressing against the aged leather. 

Your response is slow. Cautious. You begin by pushing yourself away from your desk, creating distance between you and this potential threat. The Vision fastened along your waistband thrums, ready to act. Numerous theories whir around your mind like a sandstorm. Is this a prank in poor taste? Cyno had mentioned an investigation into scarabs being placed in student’s bags, although nothing serious had come from it. Maybe it’s a gadget or some elemental reaction— 

—Your cognition grinds to a halt when a head pokes out, undoing the bag’s clasp in the process. 

…

…

…

“Oh!” The creature exclaims while freeing itself. “Um… hi!” 

The room’s natural lighting gives you a better idea of the creature’s appearance. Its wings keep it suspended midair, each enthusiastic flap scattering your notes. Large, doe-like eyes consider you, gleaming with childlike curiosity. If not for the prominent horns atop its head, you might think it’s a bat, but that classification doesn’t quite fit. 

Whatever it is, you sense no hostility. 

“Hello,” is your hesitant reply. 

It looks around, fixating on the items displaced from your desk. 

“Ack, I’m sorry,” it apologizes. It lands carefully on your desk and lowers its head, as if ashamed. “I didn’t mean to make such a mess… I’ve just been excited to meet you.” 

“Don’t worry, this is nothing. I’ve been meaning to reorganize my stuff, anyway.” 

For some reason, you can’t find it within you to fault this seemingly well-meaning yet clumsy guest. Its naivete is reminiscent of a certain explosion-obsessed girl from back home. In truth, this entire ordeal doesn’t even breach the top five strangest experiences you’ve had in recent times. 

… Alright, perhaps it’s a contender for the fourth slot. 

Suddenly, your guest straightens up. “Wait! I haven’t introduced myself yet. We can’t be friends if I haven’t introduced myself… you can call me Mini Durin. And I already know your name. You’re [First].” 

“Yeah, that’d be me,” you cover a budding smile with your hand, not wanting your giddy guest to mistake it for mockery. “So, Mini Durin… you said you’ve been wanting to meet me? Why’s that?”

Mini Durin ambles his way toward the edge of your desk. 

“You’re important to my first friend,” he declares. “At least I think so. He only has the nicest things to say about you, like how you’re not ‘as insufferable as most,’ and that ‘your presence is tolerable.’” 

That’s what Mini Durin considers ‘the nicest things’ to say about someone…?! 

The conviction with which he speaks affirms his sincerity. 

“It sounds like you trust this friend a great deal.” 

Mini Durin nods. “I do. That’s how I ended up in your bag… I got separated from him earlier. Luckily, I spotted you. I knew you’d keep me safe. And now we even get to be friends!” 

That explains why your bag felt heavier coming home than when you left. 

“You got separated from him?” Frowning, you scoot your chair closer. “Where at? We can go looking for him, if you want. He must be worried.” 

“Oh. I didn’t think about that.” 

Mini Durin mulls over your offer for a few seconds, adding, “What if he’s mad at me? He was working hard on another gift for you, but I went and distracted him.” 

“Friends can sort stuff like this out,” you reassure. Then, a pause. “Huh. Did you say ‘another gift?’” 

Mini Durin tilts his head. “You didn’t know? The pretty flowers on your—” 

A rapid knock on your door cuts him off. 

You both turn your attention toward the booming sound. Huffing, you cross your arms over your chest. It’s late in the evening, who in their right mind would treat your front door like a drum? You shoot your unexpected guest an apologetic look, promising a swift return.

Some choice words sizzle on your tongue as you swing the door open, only to be met by an equally irate figure. 

Your eccentric classmate, the Wanderer, stands before you. There’s a slight flush to his cheeks like he’s been physically exerting himself. The telltale sign of Anemo settles down around him, his hat reappearing in the process. He soon mirrors your exasperated posture, one hand on his hip, the other readjusting the brim of his hat. 

“I could’ve flown to Inazuma and back in the time it took you to answer,” is the courteous greeting he goes for. 

“Hello to you too,” you greet. “Was there something you needed? Or are you just making your debut as a percussionist known to the entire nation?”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course there’s something I ‘need’, genius.” 

“And what would that be?” 

“I’m looking for a small, talking dragon,” the Wanderer deadpans. “Ring any bells?” 

You blink. “Are you referring to Mini Durin?” 

“Just how many dragons are you acquainted with?” 

“I mean, I am from Mondstadt,” you shrug. A realization then creeps up on you. “Hold on. Does that make you this ‘first friend’ I’ve heard so much about?” 

The Wanderer freezes. You observe as he processes this information in real-time, along with the implications that come with it. Though his muscles are tense, he keeps his visage impassive. The occasional twitch of his eye is the only detail betraying his panic. 

“... On second thought, you can keep him.” 

He swivels on his heel to make a hasty retreat. 

You lurch forward without thinking, your hand latching around his wrist. He snaps his head around to meet your gaze, almost knocking you over with his hat in the process. A well-timed dodge protects you from the potential headache. In the light of the setting sun, the Wanderer’s porcelain complexion is dyed in crimson hues. Though he’s maintaining eye contact, something tells you it’s a struggle. 

“Hey,” you use your free hand to poke his flushed cheeks, to which he grimaces and bats at it like a cat. “Come inside. I’ll make up some of that awful, bitter tasting tea you like.” 

He inhales through his teeth, likely weighing various excuses. You bat your eyelashes and offer your brightest smile. As the seconds pass by, you can feel his resolve weakening. With a scoff, he frees himself from your grasp, the ease in which he does so confirming he’d been your willing hostage. 

The Wanderer wordlessly strolls past you and into your home. 

Humming, you follow close behind him. 

Just ‘tolerable’, huh? 

[hoshifighting]

Arranged Marriage

— Synopsis: Where you and Minghao parents had this grand scheme to merge their companies by marrying you off, thinking it'd be a brilliant business move. Determined to stake your claim and keep your marriage intact, your make a bold move during a business party—planting a lipstick-stained kiss on Minghao's lips and yanking him by his tie, leaving no doubt that he's yours and yours alone. — WC: 5.5k — WARNINGS: Smut, throat fucking, blowjob, fingering, penetrative sex, public make out, jealous kiss, angst, forced marriage, mentions of diets.

You're standing there in this fancy white dress, all sparkly and shiny, making your way down the aisle to where Minghao's waiting. He's looking all sharp in his suit, with his hair on point and a little smirk on his face. But as you're walking towards him, you can't help but remember the last time you two really talked was at some boring company event.

Now here you are, about to say your vows like you actually mean them. But deep down, you know it's all just a bunch of lies. You and Minghao both know it. It's all for show, to make your parents' company look good. And the worst part is, everyone at this big fancy wedding knows it too.

The party's huge, like a wedding and a business conference all mashed together. People you've never seen before are milling around, probably part of some shady business deal your parents cooked up. It's like this whole thing isn't even about love or unity anymore. It's just one big networking event disguised as a wedding.

But you go through the motions anyway, smiling and nodding like everything's perfect. You exchange vows that are as fake as the smiles plastered on both of your faces. And as the night goes on, you can't shake the feeling that this whole thing is just a sham. A pretty, expensive sham, but a sham nonetheless.

You watch as people schmooze and mingle, making deals and connections left and right. And you can't help but wonder if this is what your future holds too. A life of pretending, of smiling for the cameras while behind closed doors, it's all just business as usual.

But for now, you paste on your best fake smile and dance the night away, pretending that everything's okay. Because that's what you do when you're part of a family like yours. You put on a show, no matter what's really going on behind the scenes.

You're feeling suffocated by the crowd inside, like the tightness around your waist is almost causing claustrophobia. So you slip away to the backyard, sneaking a slice of cake from the waiters. Your mom had you on some ridiculous diet for a whole week leading up to this wedding, all so you could look "good" in your dress.

You plop down on a wooden bench, the dress spreading out in a big poof around you. Just as you're about to take a much-needed bite of cake, you're interrupted by a voice.

"Why isn't the bride inside enjoying her own party?" The voice belongs to Minghao, hands in his pockets as he stands there, looking at you.

You scoff, shooting him a look. "I'm sure no one's noticed. They're all too busy discussing the stock market or whatever." Your tone is sharp, the underlying tension between you and Minghao palpable.

Minghao snorts, clearly not impressed by your response. "Yeah, well, maybe if you spent less time worrying about your parents' company and more time actually enjoying life, you wouldn't be stuck in this mess."

You bristle at his comment, feeling a surge of anger rising within you. "Oh please, like you have any room to talk. Last time I checked, you were just as tangled up in all of this as I am."

Minghao's expression darkens, and for a moment, you worry you've gone too far. 

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a half-eaten slice of wedding cake. You watch him go, feeling a mix of frustration and something else you can't quite name. Maybe it's just the champagne talking, but for a brief moment, you can't help but wonder what life would be like if you weren't tied down by expectations and obligations. 

You stare at Minghao, disbelief written all over your face as you take in the sight of the one hotel room your parents booked for the both of you. A single queen-sized bed sits in the center of the room, effectively splitting the space into two halves. You shoot a glance at Minghao, and from the look in his eyes, you can tell he's just as shocked as you are.

The tension between you is palpable as you both stand there, sharing silent but deadly gazes. Finally, you break the silence, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, isn't this just perfect? Our parents booking us one room to 'get used' to each other. As if this whole shit wasn't enough already."

Minghao lets out a scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, because nothing says 'happily ever after' like forcing two strangers to share a bed on their wedding night."

You bite back a retort, opting instead for a more diplomatic approach. "Look, I think it's only fair that I take the bed and you can sleep on the couch."

Minghao raises an eyebrow, his expression incredulous. "And why is that?" he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You roll your eyes, feeling irritation bubbling up inside you. "Because I'm the bride, for one," you retort, "and two, I've been on my feet all night, walking around in a dress that weighs a ton and heels that could rival skyscrapers. I think I deserve a decent night's sleep."

Minghao lets out a short, humorless laugh. "Oh, please. Do you even know how exhausting it is to be the groom? I've been dealing with people all night, pretending to be someone I'm not, just like you."

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms defiantly. "Fine," you say, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips, "then let's settle this once and for all. Who's more tired: the bride who's been carrying around twelve kilograms of dress and heels all night, or the groom who's been putting on a show for hours on end?"

Minghao looks at you for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he's trying not to smile. But then he shakes his head, a look of resignation crossing his face. "You win," he says, finally relenting, "you can have the bed."

You smirk triumphantly, feeling a small sense of victory despite the absurdity of the situation. And as you crawl into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin.

The next day rolls around, and before you even have a chance to properly wake up, you're thrown into a meeting. Brunch with both families sounds nice in theory, but when Minghao's dad starts putting papers on the table and declaring, "Let's get to what matters," you realize this isn't going to be a typical family gathering.

You try to maintain a facade of composure, but the discomfort gnaws at you like a persistent itch. So you do what you've gotten used to doing – you look down, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room.

Minghao notices immediately, and you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face. His cheeks flush with embarrassment from his father's directness, but you can't bring yourself to look up and meet his eyes. The weight of expectation hangs heavy in the air, and you can practically taste the tension swirling around the table.

As Minghao's dad starts talking about business deals and partnerships, you try to focus on the sound of his voice rather than the sinking feeling in your stomach. But no matter how hard you try to block it out, you can't shake the feeling that you're just a pawn in someone else's game – a game you never asked to play.

You steal a glance at Minghao, but his expression is unreadable, his mask firmly in place. And in that moment, you realize just how alone you really are in this world of high-stakes deals and empty promises.

You're lounging on the couch, the TV blaring in the background, but your mind is miles away. The penthouse feels emptier than ever, despite being filled with all the trappings of luxury. You and Minghao live under the same roof, yet it feels like you might as well be living on opposite ends of the earth. Separate rooms, separate lives, with only a perfunctory "good morning" or "good night" exchanged between you.

The loneliness weighs heavy on your chest, suffocating you with its presence. You long for something more, something real, but it feels like an impossible dream in this gilded cage you've found yourself trapped in.

You're lost in the numbing glow of the television when your phone buzzes with a notification. It's Minghao, informing you of a press conference he's scheduled for later that night. You furrow your brow, puzzled by the sudden announcement.

But it's his last message from the previous night that catches your attention. "Can you at least put on your best smile tonight?" he'd asked, a request that feels more like a demand. And you can't help but feel a pang of frustration at his presumption.

You make your way to his room, finding him hunched over his computer, the glow of the screen casting harsh shadows across his face. You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms as you watch him for a moment before speaking up.

"What do you mean by that?" you ask, your voice tinged with a hint of annoyance. "Put on my best smile? What's that supposed to mean?"

Minghao looks up from his computer, his expression unreadable. "It means exactly what it sounds like," he replies coolly, his tone clipped. "We both know how important appearances are in our world. So why not make an effort for once?"

You roll your eyes, feeling the anger bubbling up inside you. "I think you mean that you want me to play the dutiful wife once again, to plaster on a fake smile and pretend like everything's fine," you snap, the bitterness seeping into your words.

Minghao's jaw tightens, and for a moment, it looks like he's about to argue back. But then he sighs and runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly tired and defeated. "Look, I know this isn't what either of us wanted," he says, his voice softer now, tinged with regret. "But it's what we have to do. For our families, for the company."

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "Is that really all that matters to you? The company? "But fine," you say through clenched teeth, pushing yourself away from the doorframe. "I'll put on my best smile tonight. But don't expect me to enjoy it."

You sit in the backseat of the chauffeur-driven car, your gaze fixed on the passing landscape outside the window. The skyscrapers blur into a haze of steel and glass, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling inside your mind.

Minghao breaks the silence with a casual remark, his tone tinged with amusement. "You don't look like someone who agreed to the terms of our agreement," he observes, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

You let out a frustrated huff, tearing your eyes away from the window to glare at him. "Yeah, well, maybe I need some time before I can fully commit to this whole acting profession," you retort, your words dripping with bitterness.

Minghao presses his lips together, trying to suppress a laugh at your expense. The corners of his mouth twitch with amusement, but he manages to keep his expression neutral as he looks away, pretending to be absorbed in the passing scenery.

You bristle at his reaction, feeling a surge of indignation coursing through you. "What's so funny?" you demand, your voice sharp with irritation.

Minghao shakes his head, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Nothing," he replies casually, his tone disarmingly nonchalant. "I mean, take all the time you need… Just try not to look too pitiful when we walk through those doors." 

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

As the chauffeur stops and opens the door for you, signaling your arrival at the event, Minghao's voice cuts through the silence.

"Hand," he says simply, holding out his hand towards you.

You raise an eyebrow, shooting him a skeptical look. "Excuse me?" you reply, not quite sure you heard him correctly.

Minghao's lips twitch into a smirk as he repeats himself, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "I said, hand," he repeats, his tone playful yet insistent.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at his audacity, but begrudgingly, you reach out and grab his hand, almost aggressively. His grin widens as he intertwines his fingers with yours, the touch surprisingly delicate despite the underlying tension between you.

As you and Minghao step into the event, hand in hand, you can feel the weight of your parents' surprised stares on you. Their eyebrows shoot up in disbelief at the sight of you two holding hands, a rare display of unity between the two families.

Minghao squeezes your hand gently, a small smirk playing on his lips as he catches your parents' reaction. "See?" he murmurs softly, leaning in close to you. "It's easy. A little thing like this makes them happy."

You can't help but feel a surge of resentment bubbling up inside you at his words. Easy for him to say, you think bitterly. He's always been the one who effortlessly falls into line, who knows exactly how to play the game to get what he wants.

But despite your inner turmoil, you force a tight smile and nod in agreement, not wanting to cause a scene in front of your parents. "Yeah, easy," you echo, your voice strained as you try to keep up the facade.

As the long-winded speeches from the ambassadors drone on, you find yourself sinking deeper into your chair, exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders. Minghao leans in close, his voice a soft whisper against your ear as he asks if you want something from the bar. You shake your head, declining his offer with a tired sigh.

He nods in understanding and excuses himself, disappearing into the crowd for a moment. But as the minutes drag on and the speech finally reaches its conclusion, Minghao still hasn't returned. Your eyes scan the room, searching for any sign of him, and that's when you spot her – a woman leaning in close to him, her body language oozing with flirtation.

Your stomach churns with a mix of anger and disbelief. What does she think she's doing? That's your husband she's flirting with, for crying out loud. You glance down at your wedding ring, then back at Minghao, then down at your ring again, the weight of it heavy on your finger.

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you stand up from the table, your movements cautious as you make your way over to them. Fuck, you hate that you're doing this right now, but you can't just sit idly by while some random woman tries to make a move on your husband.

Minghao's eyes widen in surprise as he catches sight of your determined gaze, and for a brief moment, you almost feel guilty for interrupting. But then you remember who you are – his wife – and the guilt fades away, replaced by a steely resolve.

"I have a wife," Minghao's voice cuts through the air, firm and unwavering, as you approach him and the woman who's been flirting with him. His words send a jolt of surprise through you, momentarily halting your steps.

But before you can even react, Minghao continues, his tone tinged with irritation, "And she's storming over here, so please, just leave me alone."

"Hi, Hao," you greet Minghao as you finally reach him, unable to hide the hint of irritation in your voice. "You took a long time. What happened?"

Minghao's eyes widen slightly at your abrupt approach, and he stammers for a moment before the woman beside him interjects, "Oh, she's your friend?"

Minghao's response is immediate and almost defensive. "No, I don't know her," he says quickly, his tone betraying his discomfort.

You can't help but suppress a smirk at his awkwardness, feeling a small surge of satisfaction at seeing him squirm. "Nice to meet you," you say smoothly, extending your hand to the woman. "I'm Mrs. Xu."

The woman's eyes widen in surprise as she takes your hand, clearly caught off guard by your assertive introduction. "Oh, um, nice to meet you too," she replies, her voice slightly shaky.

You turn your attention back to Minghao, noting the relief in his eyes as you come to his "rescue." Poor Minghao, you think to yourself, feeling a twinge of sympathy for him despite your earlier annoyance. He clearly didn't know how to handle the situation, and the sight of you coming to his aid seems to help him breathe a little easier.

The woman walks away, leaving you and Minghao standing there in the aftermath of the awkward encounter. You turn to him, your expression a mix of frustration and concern.

"Come on, Minghao," you begin, your voice low but firm. "You need to know how to handle situations like that. What if people who know our family saw that? It could cause all sorts of rumors and complications."

Minghao's jaw tightens as he meets your gaze, a flicker of defensiveness in his eyes. "I didn't ask for her to approach me," he retorts, his tone defensive. "I told her I have a wife. What more do you want from me?"

You let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair as you try to keep your temper in check. "I just want you to be more aware of how your actions reflect on both of us," you reply, your voice tinged with exasperation. "We're married, Minghao. That means we have to think about each other's reputations and how our behavior affects them."

Minghao's expression softens slightly at your words, but there's still a stubborn set to his jaw as he crosses his arms over his chest. "I know that," he says, his voice quieter now, more subdued. "But sometimes things happen, and I can't control them."

You shake your head, feeling a surge of frustration rising within you. "That's not an excuse, Minghao," you say firmly. "We both have to do better if we want this marriage to work. We have to be a team."

Minghao's lips twitch into a smirk of his own, a challenge flashing in his eyes as he steps closer to you. "Oh, is that so, Mrs. Xu?" he replies, his voice dripping with mock innocence. "And what exactly would it take for me to earn back the privilege of being called by my first name?"

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a laugh at his cheekiness. "Maybe if you stopped getting yourself into awkward situations with random women at parties," you shoot back, unable to resist the opportunity for a playful jab.

Minghao feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "Hey now, that wasn't entirely my fault," he protests, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Besides, you were the one who came to my rescue, remember?"

Minghao's playful grin falters as you shoot him a pointed look, hands firmly planted on your hips. "Am I wrong now? What should I do then?" you challenge, your tone laced with frustration.

He shrugs, his expression sheepish as he searches for an answer. "You need to make them know I'm your husband," he suggests vaguely, a glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes.

You narrow your gaze, a surge of determination coursing through you as you follow his line of sight to the woman who had been eyeing him earlier. She's still watching him, her gaze lingering a little too long for your liking.

"Fine then," you declare, your jaw set in determination. Without another word, you reach out and grab Minghao by the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer to you. Before he can protest, you press your lips to his in a firm, possessive kiss.

For a moment, Minghao freezes, his hands hovering uncertainly in the air. But then, as if realizing what's happening, he responds eagerly, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair as the kiss deepens.

You trail kisses along his neck, feeling a low hum of satisfaction reverberate through him. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer as you continue to explore the sensitive skin of his neck with your lips.

When you pull back slightly, his eyes meet yours, a hint of mischief dancing in their depths. You reach up and gently tug on his bottom lip, a silent invitation for him to surrender completely to the passion between you.

Minghao's lips part in response, his eyes darkening with desire as he leans in to capture your mouth in another searing kiss. You can feel the heat of his body against yours, the intensity of the moment threatening to consume you both.

As you finally break the kiss, your lips swollen and tingling with the taste of him, you look at his face, satisfied with your handiwork. His lips, jaw, and neck are adorned with smudges of your red lipstick, a visible testament that being arranged or not, he is your husband.

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you reach out and grab Minghao by the tie, tugging him gently but firmly in the direction of the exit. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise at your sudden assertiveness, but he follows your lead without hesitation.

As you walk through the party, you make no effort to hide the fact that you're leading Minghao out by his tie. You want everyone to see, especially that woman who dared to flirt with him earlier. With each step, you feel a surge of satisfaction knowing that you're marking your territory, making it abundantly clear to anyone watching that Minghao belongs to you.

People turn to look as you pass by, their curious glances met with a confident smile from you and a sheepish grin from Minghao. You hold your head high, your grip on his tie unwavering as you guide him through the crowd.

Finally, you reach the exit, and with one last glance around the room, you pull Minghao outside, the cool night air washing over you both. Alone at last, you turn to him with a victorious smirk.

"Well, that was fun," you say, a hint of laughter in your voice as you release his tie. "But I think we've made our point. Shall we get out of here?"

Minghao chuckles, shaking his head in amusement as he takes your hand in his. "Absolutely," he replies, a warmth in his eyes as he looks at you. "Anywhere you want to go, Mrs. Xu."

As soon as you step through the door of your home, you're wrapped up in a frenzy of passionate kisses with Minghao. Clothes, shoes, and his tie fly off haphazardly as you stumble towards the nearest surface, unable to keep your hands off each other.

Between kisses, Minghao pulls back slightly, his lips brushing against your neck as he speaks. "I didn't know you were that jealous," he murmurs, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You hiss in response, your breath catching in your throat as his lips trail along your skin. "I wasn't jealous," you protest, your voice tinged with frustration. "I was just...rescuing you, you bastard!"

Minghao laughs at your outburst, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Hmm, just like a predator," he teases, his hands roaming over your body with a newfound confidence.

You scoff at his comment, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "You've seen nothing yet," you reply, meeting his gaze with a challenge in your eyes.

Minghao's eyes light up with excitement as he looks at you, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

"Yeah," you confirm with a smirk, pulling him in for another kiss.

But then, his hand moves to the top of your head, gently guiding you downwards until your knees find the ground. You look up at him with a mixture of desire and anticipation, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you eagerly await his next move.

With a shaky breath, Minghao pulls himself free from his pants, his cock standing proudly before you. You wrap your hand around it, feeling the heat and hardness of him beneath your touch. A wicked grin plays at your lips as you tap the tip of his cock against your face, biting your lip in anticipation.

Minghao lets out a shaky moan at the provocative sight before him, his eyes dark with desire as he watches you. "Fuck, you're so damn sexy," he groans, his voice rough with need. "You know exactly what you're doing to me, don't you?"

You smirk up at him, your hand still wrapped around his cock as you tease him with your lips. "Mmm, maybe," you purr, your voice dripping with seduction. "But I want to hear you say it. Tell me how much you want me, Minghao."

His breath hitches as he meets your gaze, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guides you closer to him. "I want you more than anything," he confesses, his voice thick with desire. "I need you, baby. Please, show me how much you want me too."

You eagerly lower your mouth onto Minghao's throbbing cock, sucking greedily as you take him deeper and deeper into your mouth. You can feel him thrusting his hips, the need for more driving him to move against you.

Your hands slide down to his thighs, giving him the freedom to move as he pleases. His fingers tangle in your hair, guiding your movements as he sets the pace, his hips rocking against you in a rhythm of his own making.

As you take him deeper, you close your eyes, relaxing your jaw to accommodate his length. Minghao's voice breaks through the haze of pleasure, his words a gentle reminder of his concern for your well-being.

"Tap if you need to breathe," he murmurs, his hand tightening in your ponytail as he continues to move his hips.

You press your hand against his thigh in affirmation, letting him know that you're okay as you continue to take him deeper, your throat working to accommodate his length. Minghao lets out a low groan of pleasure, his hips moving in tandem with your movements as you both chase the pinnacle of ecstasy.

Between thrusts, Minghao's voice fills the air with a husky whisper. "God, you feel so fucking good," he moans, his words driving you to take him even deeper. "You're amazing, baby. Just keep going, just like that."

As Minghao's cock throbs in your mouth, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through you, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Drool drips from your chin, a testament to your eagerness and arousal, as you continue to take him deeper, your mouth working tirelessly to please him.

With each throb of his cock, you can feel the tension building, the heat of his arousal radiating through you. Your eyes roll back in your head, lost in a haze of pleasure as you surrender yourself completely to the ecstasy of the moment.

And as Minghao's cock pulses in your mouth, you know that you've pushed him to the edge, his release imminent. With one final throb, he cries out your name, his body tensing as he spills his cum into your waiting mouth.

You swallow eagerly, savoring the taste of him. You moan softly as Minghao's lips meet yours again, the taste of him still lingering on your tongue, and he slowly guides you towards his room.

As you fall onto the bed, Minghao's fingers trace lazy patterns along your inner thighs, making you squirm beneath his touch, unable to hide your arousal as he gazes down at you with dark, hungry eyes.

"You're so wet…" he murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he continues to tease you with his fingers.

Minghao's lips curl into a smug grin as his fingers trailing lower until they reach the damp fabric of your panties. With agonizing slowness, he begins to peel them away, revealing your glistening folds to his hungry gaze.

"Tell me what you want, baby" he whispers, his voice a low growl in your ear as he leans in close. "Tell me how you want me to make you feel."

You arch your back, aching for his touch as you meet his gaze with a sultry smirk. "I want your fingers inside me, Minghao" you breathe, your voice dripping with desire. "I want you to make me come so fucking hard"

Minghao's eyes darken with lust as he hears your words, his fingers finding their way to your slick entrance. With a wicked grin, he plunges his slender fingers deep inside you, his touch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

And then, just when you think you can't take any more, he finds it – that deep spot that sends electric jolts shooting through you. Your pussy clenches around his fingers in response, a desperate attempt to hold your orgasm.

But Minghao isn't finished yet. With a wicked grin, he leans in close, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers his intentions. "You're not going to cum yet," he murmurs. "Let me hit that spot with my cock, then you can cream around it as much as you want."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, with the promise of what's going to come. With a nod of agreement, you bite your lip in anticipation, eager for the moment when Minghao will fuck you with his cock.

As Minghao positions himself above you, his gaze locked with yours in a silent promise of pleasure to come, you sneak a peek at his cock. It's long, with bulging veins and dripping with pre-cum, making it clear he's rock hard and ready to go. The contrast with his slender body just makes it look even bigger.

Before you can even think of a response, Minghao speaks up, his voice low and husky. "You ready for me, baby?" he asks, his eyes smoldering with desire.

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can get a word out, his cock is stretching you out, leaving you breathless and speechless as he fills you completely.

As soon as Minghao finds your g'spot, your pussy immediately tightens around him, milking him with such intensity that he has to hold himself back from coming right then and there. His pretty moans only serve to heighten your own arousal, making it even harder for you to hold back your impending orgasm.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his voice strained with pleasure as he tries to control himself. He hopes that you'll stop clenching, but as soon as he hits that spot again, he hisses in response, the sensation driving him wild.

Realizing that he's in danger of cumming too early, Minghao decides to focus on fucking you in just the right way, hitting that spot with precision and intensity. He squirms, desperate for you to climax first, knowing that your pleasure will only fuel his own.

With each thrust, each movement, the pleasure builds between you, reaching a fever pitch that threatens to consume you both. Minghao's hips move in a steady rhythm, his cock driving deeper and deeper into you with each thrust, his own pleasure mounting with each passing second.

And then, finally, it happens. You reach the peak of ecstasy, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm as pleasure washes over you in relentless waves. Your pussy clenches around Minghao's cock, milking him for all he's worth as he loses control, his own release crashing over him in a tidal wave of pleasure.

With a tired groan, Minghao collapses beside you, his body spent from the intensity of your shared passion. He turns to you with a lazy smile, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction.

"If I'd known all it took to get you to kiss me was making you jealous, I would've done it ages ago," he teases, his voice laced with amusement.

You roll your eyes, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "I wasn't jealous," you protest, crossing your arms over your chest.

Minghao raises an eyebrow, his expression incredulous. "Imagine if you were then" he scoffs, his tone teasing. "I don't think we'd be here right now if you weren't just a little bit jealous."

You huff in mock indignation, but deep down, you know he's right.

ou nudge Minghao playfully, a smile dancing on your lips. "Well, lucky for you, a little jealousy was all it took," you quip, teasing him.

He chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling as he gazes at you. "I guess I'll have to remember that for next time," he replies, his voice tinged with amusement.

You laugh, shaking your head in mock exasperation. "Oh, so there's going to be a next time now?" you tease, raising an eyebrow.

Minghao grins, leaning in closer to you. "Count on it," he murmurs, his voice low and husky as he brushes his lips against yours.

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐁𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.1k

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Secret mutual pinning, angst, emotional turmoil, mentions of insecurities, EVENTUAL SMUT, confessional sex, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v sex, long distance relationship

𝐀/𝐍: I didn’t expect this to be so long. Also hey @lazyjellyfish300 remember this blurb?? We’ve got the smut🥳

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Saying goodbye to you wasn’t part of Miguel’s plan. As you prepare to leave Alchemax for a prestigious new role, Miguel struggles with the realisation that he’s about to lose more than just a colleague.

“What are you doing?”

Miguel watched intently as you packed away your belongings in a box, clearing up your workstation. It wasn’t just a casual clean up— this looked like something more final.

You meticulously removed the photos from the wall, gathered your notes, and neatly stacked your research papers. The once vibrant workstation, full of personality, now looked eerily bare.

“Clearing my work station.” you said matter-of-factory. His chest felt heavy with uneasy tension, a sense of foreboding growing with each second.

“Yeah, I got that much, genius,” he shot back, stepping closer and stopping right next to your desk. “Why are you clearing your desk?”

You turned to face him wordlessly, his question only carrying more weight between the two of you like an unwelcome guest. His mouth went dry as he locked eyes with you.

Up close, you always managed to take his breath away, a quiet beauty that never failed to stir something deep within him. But today, there was a different kind of tension in the air, a sense of finality that he couldn’t grasp.

“Well?” he prodded, though he had a sinking feeling that whatever was going to unfold would change everything.

“Well uhm…I put in my two weeks notice today.”

He almost choked at your words. This was worse than he anticipated. He thought maybe you were moving to a different workstation, not leaving the company entirely.

“What?” his voice was barely a whisper. He could feel his pulse thundering in his ears. You were leaving— he was losing you.

“I’ve been offered a lead geneticist position at another company. But it’s in Raleigh, so…I’m gonna have to move.”

You had worked as a research scientist at Alchemax for several years, and because of the nature of your work, you and Miguel collaborated on a daily basis.

Discussing experimental results, debating research protocols— it all came so naturally. Over time, what began as a professional respect grew into something more personal. And now, that bond was about to be severed.

You were leaving for a bigger, fancier job in North Carolina. The thought twisted something deep inside him and he struggled to keep himself together.

“I can’t turn it down. I’ve busted my ass on the application and the whole interview process.”

“Congrats…” The word came out strangled, forced through clenched teeth. Trying to talk without being overwhelmed with emotions was like trying to hold back a flood with a paper dam.

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic.” you half-joked, but there was a note of concern in your voice.

You were right, his response wasn’t the best cover-up for his true feelings. The mere idea of you leaving filled him with dread, despair and most of all, jealousy.

“Of course I’m happy for you. I know you’ve been working hard— you deserve the opportunity.” He managed to hide most of his turmoil behind a cold wall of control. But deep down, the words felt hollow.

He knew he had no right to feel this way. You had every right to leave, to seize this incredible opportunity. This wasn’t something that came around often, and he didn’t want to be the one to hold you back.

You set the box down on the desk— the box that held all your belongings. “I’ll still be here for another two weeks.”

“Two weeks…” he echoed, the words sticking in his throat like a curse.

Two weeks. How was that enough time to prepare for losing you? What was he supposed to do after that? Just accept that you were gone? His heart couldn’t take that.

“I’ll visit Nueva York whenever I get the chance,” you said, trying to sound reassuring.

“You better. You’re not allowed to just drop off the face of the earth once you’re gone…” it was getting harder to keep his tone light.

“Of course…Nueva York and Alchemax aren't going to leave my mind anytime soon.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of us every now and then…and I’m certain this place won’t forget you…”

“I doubt it.” you scoffed, a bit of edge to your voice. “The higher ups will probably replace me before I even step foot in North Carolina.”

Miguel’s heart sank at the thought, though he knew there was some truth to it. The idea of someone else taking your place, of your work station filled with notes and projects by another rando, was too much to bear.

He could already picture the empty space where your personal touch used to shine through, replaced by some faceless new hire who was unaware how amazing you were

“Yeah, knowing them, they’ve probably already written up your job description, listing your position open for applications.” he sighed solemnly.

The company never had the best moral compass when it came to their employees, and would replace anyone that wasn’t serving their needs in a heartbeat.

“It’s okay, I’m sure I’ve left my mark here, even if I feel like I didn’t do much.”

Miguel almost let out a laugh in disbelief. You were always such a hard-worker, always a quick-thinker. You had single-handedly helped him out more times than he could count.

Another company had even recognised your talent and wanted you to work for them…yet you still doubted your capabilities.

“Are you serious? You’re irreplaceable. You’ve saved my ass more times than I could remember.” His voice was firm now, desperate to make you see things from his view.

“Mhmm.” You hummed. “Now, I’ll soon be the lead geneticist in another company, just like you.”

The enthusiasm in your tone was impossible to miss, and it reflected in your eyes. It should have made Miguel happy for you, and in a way, it did.

But the guilt still gnawed at him, guilt that he couldn’t match your excitement. Deep down, all he wanted was for you to stay, for purely selfish reasons.

“Yeah…just like me.” he repeated your words, the tiniest edge of bitterness creeping into his voice.

You didn’t seem to notice. “I guess all those late nights of research finally paid off. And all your teachings too.”

Miguel recalled all those nights together— just the two of you, the lab quiet save for the hum of machines and the scratch of pen on paper.

Mundane tasks became memorable simply because you were there. The memories sent a shiver up his spine, a bittersweet reminder of what he was about to lose.

It was a painful realisation that not everything lasts forever, especially the good things.

“Don’t count all this success as being attributed to just me, you did a lot of studying, too.” he chuckled lightly. “You really put in the hard work…you earned it.”

But even as he spoke, the words tasted bitter. Even if he was proud of you, it didn’t make the ache in his chest any less potent.

He glanced back at the box on your desk. No one could replace you— not in the lab, and certainly not in his life.

“But, I wouldn’t be here without you, so I have to give you some credit.” you smiled warmly. “If I ever win an award in this field and they make me stand on those podiums and talk to a huge audience, I’ll be sure to mention your name.”

Miguel felt his stomach flip at your words. He was at a loss for words. You’d mention his name if you won an award? He didn’t realise he had made such an impact on you— to be someone you viewed as admirable enough to acknowledge publicly.

The thought alone could possibly make him faint. To have his name mentioned in such a light by you…it was almost too much to handle.

He swallowed thickly. “Ah…you don’t have to go that far. I’m just some scientist,” he said coolly, though his pulse quickened. “Really, you’re gonna go places, make a name for yourself— you don’t need to credit me.”

“But I will. You've been a big part of my career here,” you insisted.

Your words hit Miguel square in the chest. You were adamant about recognising his role in your life. It was almost overwhelming, the way you considered him to be that much of an integral part of you.

He forced out a playful scoff, hoping to mask the surge of emotions rising in him.

“Yeah, I guess I helped you with some projects…but don’t go listing me as some co-author in your resume.”

You laughed softly. “Don’t worry, I know my limits.”

~

The next few days felt like treading on thin ice, where one wrong move could crack the fragile tension between the two of you.

Since the day you told him you were leaving, you’ve been unusually reserved, quieter than usual— a shift that didn’t go unnoticed by Miguel.

The sudden change in your energy tightened the coil of anxiety in his chest, and it was made worse by his inability to figure out why you were acting this way.

Whenever he would look your way, you always seemed distracted, lost in thought. Your responses were always brief and you would only speak when spoken to.

Miguel couldn’t help but feel concerned over you, but he was hesitant to ask you about it, not wanting to intrude or overstep any boundaries.

One evening, you both found yourselves working late again in his lab alone. The atmosphere was quiet— filled with the soft sounds of typing and the occasional shuffle of papers.

Miguel couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances at you. You were staring at your work, but he could tell your focus was elsewhere, lost in your own thoughts that were weighing you down.

As the evening wore on, the solitude of the lab and the waning hours seemed to offer the right moment. His concern outweighed his hesitation, and he turned his chair to face you.

“You’ve been quiet all day. Is everything okay?” He asked gently.

You looked up at him from your papers. The lightning highlighted the tiredness in your eyes, your expression weary and distant.

“Yeah, just thinking.” you mused.

“Is it about leaving? Are you upset?”

He could see the hesitation in your face, your eyes darting away from him and focused on the desk in front of you. “It’s not about leaving…well, maybe it is, in a way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been thinking about how I’ve been in relationships…you know, what I wanted, what I didn’t get. I’m starting to wonder if maybe I’ve been asking for too much.”

Miguel blinked, taken back by your admission. He hadn’t expected that, but now that you brought it up, he was curious to know more.

“Too much? What could you possibly have asked for that was too much?”

“Just…little things. Being held, feeling safe, someone who actually listens after a long day,” you replied. He didn’t miss the tinge of bitterness in your voice. “I thought those were normal things to want, but it was like… like they were a burden to give.”

Hearing you feel so unappreciated made his chest tighten with frustration. How could someone make you think you were asking for too much? You deserved everything you asked for and more.

“That’s not too much to ask. It’s not a burden— it’s what you deserve.”

This wasn’t a passing thought; it was clear you’d been hurt before. The idea that someone had made you feel unworthy of love you craved infuriated him.

If you were with him, you wouldn’t even have to ask for that. He’d give you everything you wanted, and then some.

You let out a tired sigh, still not fully convinced by his words. “Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever find that. Or I’m chasing something unrealistic.”

No, don’t think that.

“You deserve someone who will give you all of that.”

You looked up at him. He could tell his words resonated with you when he saw something hopeful in your eyes. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” he said— he kept his tone low, hiding the fierce enthusiasm he felt. He could go on about everything you deserved, but he didn’t want to come off as desperate. “And if you have found it yet, it’s not because you’re asking too much.”

There was so much more he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to do— but he held himself back. He wanted to pull you into his embrace, just to share your warmth.

He wasn’t going to confess to you, that wasn’t the smartest move. Instead he pushed his feelings down for your sake, and pretended his love for you was just platonic.

“Are you in a relationship?” you asked suddenly.

Miguel had to hold himself back from giving a puzzled look. You’ve worked together for years now— wasn't it obvious that he was single? Maybe he’d been too vague about his love life, that was probably why you were asking.

He thought that by never mentioning a partner, it made him seem more available to you. But it seems you’ve overlooked that.

Not that he was inexperienced. He had his fair share of relationships— some short-lived, others too casual to be called serious.

They were a balance of good and bad, each leaving him with lessons to learn.

But he could confidently say that none of them had ever made him feel the way you did. He longed to express that with you, to tell you why you had his heart wrapped around your finger. But he knew that would only complicate things more.

“No…haven’t been in one in a while.”

And you’re the reason, he wanted to add.

“What about you? Found anyone special yet?” A small part of him dreaded to hear you answer, even if either response wouldn’t serve him any good.

“No.”

If you weren’t leaving the company, that answer would’ve brought him joy. But now, knowing that you were available it made the situation more poignant— a reminder that he had missed his chance.

Ironically, it would’ve given him more clarity if you said yes.

He had gotten used to concealing his true feelings since the day you told him that you’ve given your two weeks notice. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

So he offered you a reassuring smile instead, “Don’t worry. You’ll find someone who will cherish you the way you deserve.”

I’m right over here.

From the look of your face lifting up, he knew he managed to sound convincing and encouraging.

“I do have my eyes on someone though…” you added.

Your words echoed in his head and wrapped around his throat like a vice. A storm of emotions hit him all at once, leaving him struggling to navigate through the confusion.

On one hand, he was dying to know who you were referring to. On the other, he felt shattered that someone else managed to make their way into your heart and he wasn’t even aware of it.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before speaking. “Oh really? What are they like?”

Each question he asked felt like digging himself deeper into a pit he might never climb out of. Even while he forced himself to act neutral, it was hard to predict when the nonchalant facade would eventually crack.

You let out a sheepish laugh before answering. ”Well…he’s pretty tall,”

Miguel’s mind raced through every tall colleague he could think of, analysing every conversation you’d had with them, and trying to think back to any clues that would give away your feelings for them.

Miguel knew he was probably being overly cautious, but his instincts flared up. It wasn’t just his jealousy— though there was no denying that he was feeling a tinge of envy— but he didn’t want to see you get hurt by anyone.

Especially after what you revealed to him earlier. But he brought those thoughts to the side for a moment and continued to listen to you.

“He’s… a little grumpy but that’s what adds to his charm,” you added. There was something reflecting in your eyes, a sparkle that he couldn’t quite grasp, but he dismissed it.

Grumpy? You found that charming? He thought back to all those times you had called him grumpy.

His stomach fluttered as he felt a new sense of hope. But he didn’t let that sway his judgment and got optimistic too quickly.

“What else do you like about him?” Miguel asked. Deep down, Miguel felt a change of heart and he was desperate to know more, hoping that there was even the slightest chance that it might be him.

“He’s always there when I need him, even though he tries to hide it, he secretly has a heart of gold.”

You were killing him, little by little, with every answer you were giving him. It was all the qualities he was proud to have, yet he still felt doubtful.

He managed a small smile, trying to hide the longing in his heart. “Sounds like a good man. I’m sure he’s lucky to have your affection.”

“Yeah. I really hope he feels the same. Otherwise, all those coffees I gave him would be a waste,” you let out a sigh, clearly lost in thought about the man you admired.

You couldn’t have been more obvious. His heart fluttered as he recalled all those coffees you would give him in the mornings, especially during your joint projects.

Thank the stars that he was a master at keeping a tight lid on his feelings. There was no way he was going to let his excitement show— not yet, not until he was sure

“Those coffees?” he asked. “Why do you give them to him?”

“I was hoping I’d stand out to him and not just be a colleague he sits with.”

“Stand out? What other things are you willing to do?”

“Maybe offer to help with his paperwork— if he doesn’t mind.”

Miguel couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but his heart swelled with happiness with each word. You wanted to stand out to him. Offer to do his paperwork.

You didn’t have to do all of that to get his attention; he had eyes on you for a long time, but all these little things you did were an added bonus.

“Do you think I should buy him more coffee?” you asked, you gaze locked with him, searching for his approval. You were asking for his opinion too.

“Coffee’s a good ice breaker. Maybe you could add a little note too, I bet he’ll notice you after that,” he kept his tone casual, but Miguel couldn’t stop the grin tugging at his lips.

You looked so eager, willing to take whatever advice. After all, if you were talking about him, you’d take his advice even more seriously, right? It only made sense.

“Maybe you could ask him out on a casual date, nothing too big. Just to see how he reacts,” he teased, way too excited with how you’ll respond.

Will you ask him out now?

“You know…I think I’ll call him now,” you got up to leave the room.

Everything came crashing down on him in an instant. His heart shattered, taking all his hopes with it. So, you weren’t talking about him after all.

“Ah, alright…good luck with that,” he tried to maintain a neutral tone, but the strain in his voice betrayed him.

The weight of his unrequited love pressed heavily on his chest, it was almost palpable. Each step you took away felt like a knife twisting deeper into his heart.

How could he have been so foolish? Of course, it wouldn’t be him.

From the sound of your footsteps, you walked a few doors down, away from his earshot. You probably didn’t want him to overhear.

Sadness and disappointment surrounded him like a suffocating fog as he slumped back at his desk. He hadn’t heard from you in half an hour.

You were either working up the courage to call your love interest or caught in an extended conversation. But what he didn’t expect was to see your name pop up on his phone screen when his phone rang.

Although he didn’t want to hear how your conversation went, he still wanted to be supportive. He loved you too much to ruin your happiness.

He cleared his throat, bracing himself for whatever you had to say, expecting to have his heart shattered again, before picking up the phone. “Hello?”

“Oh, don’t say ‘hello’ like you haven’t saved my number,” you teased.

Miguel forced out a chuckle, trying to match your lightheartedness. “You got me there. Of course I have your number saved. So, how did it go?” he asked, his voice filled with forced anticipation, even as his heart pounded in his chest.

“Well, that guy I was talking about earlier…”

You left the sentence hanging, as if daring him to grasp the meaning. Miguel cleared his throat, keeping his composure and hoping his voice wouldn’t betray his pain. “Go on…what happened?”

There was a pause that went on for a few seconds, but it was enough to make his stomach twist as he waited for your response. Finally, you spoke.

“Well, did you know that it was you and were just acting clueless? Or did you not pick that up, yet?” you asked.

Miguel froze, the words processed in his mind. For a moment, he was stunned into silence, his grip tightening around the phone near his ear. His mind replayed the conversation you had just shared to see if he missed anything.

Then, a small smile slowly crept on his face, a mix of disbelief and dawning realisation. Now, hearing you confirm that it was true, he couldn’t hide his relief and the warmth that spread across his chest.

“I…uh…had…my suspicions,” he stuttered, his voice thick with emotion. “But hearing you say it now…it means more than you know.”

He paused for a moment, realising he might be sounding too eager, too vulnerable. “But what did you mean when you said ‘did you not pick that up’? Was it…was it not obvious that I had feelings for you too?”

“No, actually.”

A soft sigh of relief escaped Miguel’s lips. He’d tried so hard to keep his feelings for you hidden, fearing rejection to avoid an awkward situation that might follow, especially with you leaving the city.

But knowing now that he hadn’t been as obvious he feared— that you hadn’t noticed— was a strange comfort. Still, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder how things might have been different if he’d confessed first. Would he have had the courage? Probably not, even with your imminent departure.

“Well…now that we both know how we feel, what does that mean for us? Are you…happy that I have feelings for you too?”

“Duh.”

Miguel let out a chuckle at your blasé response. The tension in his chest from earlier was starting to ease, allowing him to bask in the moment.

But the reality of your limited time here was starting to set in, dulling his joy with a stab of regret.

“So…you’re still leaving, huh?” he couldn’t hide the solemn tone in his voice.

“Yeah, I am. But that doesn’t mean this has to end before it starts.”

His heart stuttered at that. “You really think we could make it work.”

“If we both want it, I don’t see why not.” The determination in your voice was palpable, even through the phone. It made him feel more desired than ever.

“I want it. More than anything. And right now, I really want to kiss you.”

“Hold on, let me come to you,” you hung up the phone and Miguel could hear your footsteps getting closer.

Once you finally arrived, you looked back up at him. Miguel could see the eagerness and the tinge of mischief in your eyes.

“Kiss me please.”

At that moment, he knew there was no use waiting any longer. His lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this alive.

He couldn’t believe this was really happening, he had always dreamed of this moment but now that he was experiencing it in person, it felt too surreal to be real.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as his lips moved lovingly against yours. Breaking the kiss, he took a moment to study your face.

He wanted to kiss you again, to tell you sweet nothings that he had been holding back for so long. But he knew he had to compose himself and give you a moment to breathe.

“Lock the doors,” your voice echoed in his mind, sending his mind into a frenzy. He chuckled but still obliged, giving you both a newfound privacy.

Everything else felt like a blur and the next moment, he was unbuttoning your shirt and tossing it to the side. He didn’t waste any time doing the same to your pants.

His throat went dry when he noticed the wet patch on your undies, a sign that you were just as turned on as he was.

Just as infatuated.

It drove him crazy. As he leaned in, he felt your hands hike up under his shirt too. He took this as a sign to remove it, his toned body now in full view. His muscle’s glistened under the light.

He pressed your bare chest against his— the raw feeling of your skin against his was pure ecstasy. He lifted your body with ease and set you on a clear desk.

His body was still pressed against yours as he kissed over your neck and down your collar bone. He felt so lucky to have you in his arms like this, even better in his lab.

You were finally his…

He knelt down between your legs, his hands caressing over each thigh. His lips found your inner thigh, kissing over your skin, dangerously close to your core.

It was his ultimate goal to memorise every curve and crevice of your skin, what made you tick and all your favourite spots you liked to be touched. He wanted to savour this moment as much as he could.

His tongue slowly ran over your soaked cunt, finally getting a taste of you. Immediately, you gasped and your legs twitched in response.

You tasted incredible, or maybe that was just the heat of the moment. He continued to pleasure you with his mouth, his tongue tracing delicious, slow patterns around your sensitive bud.

He heard you gasp out his name which motivated to continue. His hand reached up to intertwine with yours, his touch grounding and tender as he continued to pleasure you with his mouth.

“Oh God…right there, Miguel—”

Your free hand reached into his scalp and gently tugged on his curls. Feeling your hips grinding against his tongue only drove him further, desperate to coax your orgasm.

That’s it…

Give yourself to me.

He knew the moment you reached your peak when he felt you tighten your grip on his hair and cry out his name. Seeing the way you threw your head back in the throes of your climax sent an overwhelming shiver through his body— a sensation he couldn’t describe.

Your body convulsed against his mouth as you squirted on his tongue— and he licked you clean eagerly. Finally, he pulled his mouth away, his tongue leaving your body with a final, tantalising flick.

He ran his fist across his mouth to rid your wetness before rising up to his feet. You were completely spent, your body limp and your breath came out ragged.

Your legs were still shaking from your fresh release. He couldn’t help but glide over your cheeks, his thumb tracing over your cheekbone.

He felt you lean into his touch as he savoured the feel of your skin beneath his fingers.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours.

You let out a shaky laugh, catching your breath. “Like this? All sweaty and musty? You must really love me then…”

Only you would throw a sarcastic comment after he ate you out. After a moment of stillness, you came down from your high. He spread your legs apart as he hovered over you on the desk.

The precum that leaked from his tip mixed with your wetness as he positioned his tip over your entrance. Slowly, he pushed himself in and was immediately overwhelmed by your cushiony grip over his tip.

Your fingers gripped onto his biceps, keeping yourself steady as he pushed further. Once he bottomed out, you lifted your head to see the light bulge on your belly.

A sense of pride washed over him, seeing your eyes feast on the lewd sight of him filling you up. Every inch of him was all yours.

He dragged himself out with your wetness coating his dick before pushing back in again. His body moved against yours in a perfect harmony, every motion was driven to heighten the pleasure between the two of you.

As the ecstasy reached a new height, Miguel’s body trembled slightly. He couldn’t resist letting out a soft moan followed by your name, his voice filled with all the love he had for you.

“Just like that…” you murmured against his lips.

Hearing your praise, Miguel’s lips curled into a smile, his expression filled with a mixture of confidence and pride.

Every stroke hit a new depth, sending a shiver through both of you.

All he could think about was being connected with you in every way possible. Physically. Emotionally. He angled himself so his pelvic bone could rub and stimulate your bundle of nerves.

“Miguel-!”

You let out a cry when he changed his pace, your nails digging into his back. He wanted you to feel him for weeks, remembering this night. Each sharp, precise thrust, hitting your sweet spot over and over and driving you over the edge.

He could feel his own peak crawling up with each passing second. His thrusts grew more desperate and frenzied, aiming to chase his high with your body wrapped around his own.

“Look at me…I want to see you,” he breathed.

The sight of you under him, taking everything he was giving you, sent him over the edge. His body tensed as he reached the pinnacle of his own climax.

With one last thrust deep into your heat, his cum pulsated into you in strong waves. He stayed balled deep until each were drained and waited for a moment before he pulled his hips back.

He felt withdrawal as he released himself from your grip, his deflated dick now hung between his legs.

His body slumped weakly against yours, the intensity of the moment leaving him content and blissfully exhausted. The world around him faded into the background. In that instant, everything felt perfect.

The pulse in his ears gradually quieted to a gentle hum, and his muscles started to relax as he settled against you.

As he kept his arms around you, holding you close, he felt at peace for the first time in what felt like ages. It all felt so right— like this was exactly where he was supposed to be.

He wanted to stay like this, savouring the closeness, but your soft gasp tugged at his concerns.

“Are you okay?” he asked, still feeling lightheaded from the afterglow. “What’s wrong?”

You quickly sat up on the desk, adjusting your clothes with a sense of urgency. “We need to put our clothes back on.”

The seriousness in your voice jolted back into reality. The sterile scent of the lab and the harsh fluorescent lights snapped into sharp focus, reminding him where you were. He carefully pulled himself away from you, his mind scrambling to catch up.

As he gathered his clothes from the floor and desk, the remnants of your passion, he couldn’t help but glance back at you— disheveled, flushed and utterly captivating.

Once he was fully dressed, he looked at you with amusement. “I think we can slip out before anyone asks what we’ve been up to,” he teased with a grin.

You buttoned your shirt, still appearing slightly frantic. “Did we make a mess?”

Miguel scanned the lab, his eyes sweeping over the desk and the floor. He didn’t spot any obvious signs of a mess, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. The weight of what had just happened hung in the air.

Still, the room would be locked overnight— no one would see anything.

“Well…” he replied with a casual shrug. “I’m not too worried about any physical evidence. As long as they didn’t hear you cry out my name.”

You shot him a mildly annoyed look, pressing your lips together. “We should clock out before anyone suspects us.”

Just as you were about to move, Miguel gently pulled your arm. “Before we go…I need to know if this is something you truly want. Not just a temporary escape.” His voice was soft with vulnerability as he searched your eyes.

Your lips curled up into a reassuring smile. “Let’s go out to dinner and talk more there.”

Miguel’s eyes sparkled, the tension on his shoulders lifting. The idea of an intimate dinner, just the two of you, felt like the perfect addition to the connection you had just deepened.

He felt a sense of triumph as he allowed himself to experience this with you after the long, silent yearning.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’d love to have dinner,”

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Come on then, let’s get out of here.”

Miguel quickly switched off the lights and locked up before taking your hand in his. The two of you stepped out into the crisp night air, leaving the lab— and its memories— behind.

~

Miguel sat behind the wheel of his car, gripping on the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. You both agreed that he’d drive you to the airport, allowing you to spend these last moments together.

The car ride was silent, save for the occasional crackling of the chip packet in your hands. Miguel's eyes flickered towards you as you reached for another chip. You seemed calm and collected, but he knew better.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, to break the silence, but nothing came out. Words that normally flowed so easily from him were caught in his throat. What could he possibly say that would make it any easier?

“Do you want some?” you offered, holding out the bag.

He shook his head, lips twitching into a forced smile. “I’m not really hungry right now.”

His eyes were back on the road. The thought of food was the furthest thing from his mind right now. All he could think about was the impending goodbye as the streets of Nueva York blurred past.

“Are you okay?” your voice, a soft caress.

He let out a dry, humorless laugh. Of course he wasn’t okay. How could he be? But he nodded anyway, giving you a reassuring smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m fine…just a little nervous about dropping you off at the airport, that’s all.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either.

The truth was too raw, too painful, to voice. He didn’t want to admit how devastating he was and burden you with his feelings, not now.

“I’ve never done anything this big before.” you confessed. He could hear the uncertainty in your voice. “Moving to a completely different state…”

He felt a mix of sadness and pride in his chest. He was so proud of you for taking such a big step, but at the same time, he wished things were different and you could stay with him a little longer.

If only he had known sooner, maybe he would have had the courage to confess— to hold you close and never let you go. To have you to himself just a little longer.

“I know, it’s a big deal,” he tried to sound comforting. “But you’re smart, and capable, and I know you’re gonna do amazing.”

“Thanks, I needed that reassurance.” you sighed. “I’m a little nervous. What if I don’t fit in and I’m too…Nueva York-y for them.”

With one hand, Miguel reached over and gently squeezed your thigh, while the other gripped the steering wheel.

He tried to radiate some of his warmth and comfort, despite his emotions swirling like a vortex inside him.

“You’re going to fit in just fine. You’re the most adaptable person I know. And even if you are a bit ‘Nueva York-y’, as you put it, I think the people of North Carolina could use a bit of that.”

He glanced back at you, catching the flicker of unease in your eyes. It was refreshing to know that, despite your excitement, you were still feeling the same apprehension that had been eating him.

It gave a sense of connection— knowing this change was just as daunting to you as it was for him.

“You’re going to enlighten them with your 'Nuyorican’ charm, trust me,” he said lightly.

As the airport car park came into view, Miguel felt a shudder. The moment of truth was closing in with each passing second. The parking lot was busy, surrounded by the hum of engines and the distant echo of rolling suitcases.

Once he found a parking space, he switched off the engine and sighed— the sound heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Part of him wanted to stay rooted in his seat, to delay the inevitable just a little longer.

But he knew better. There was no escaping this. No loophole.

Even if it killed him.

He stepped out of the car and opened the trunk. The reality of the situation was hitting him as he helped you with your luggage. This was really happening.

Inside the terminal, the building was bustling with activity— people rushing to catch flights, families reunited, and others parting with goodbyes. The overhead announcements echoed across the vast space, creating a backdrop of noise.

But the chaos felt distant to Miguel, like it was happening in another world. His entire focus was on the small details of you— how tightly you gripped the suitcase handle, the way your eyes darted around and scanning signs to find where you were supposed to go.

Every little movement you made seemed to carve into his memory, as if he were trying to etch these final moments into his mind.

He tried to keep himself distracted by glancing at the departure board, watching to see when your flight’s status changed to ‘boarding’. Meanwhile, you checked in your flight and dropped off any checked baggage.

Once that was done, Miguel walked with you to the security gates. His heart grew heavier with each step. The moment of separation was looking closer and closer like a looming shadow.

“Alright…this is it…” you announced, finally reaching the security gates. Only ticketed passengers could pass, so this was where he would have to let you go.

There were a few guards already waving people through, urging the crowd to keep moving. The noise of shuffling feet, distant conversations, and the occasional beep of the scanners filled the air, but it all seemed muted to Miguel. He looked back at you one last time, his heart hammering in his chest.

He wanted to say something— anything— to keep you from leaving. Words like ‘don’t go’ or ‘I love you’ hovered on the top of his tongue, but he knew they were pointless. You were leaving, the ticket was booked, and nothing he could say would change that.

“I’m… I’m gonna miss you…” the word felt insignificant in the grand scheme of things. But they were the only truth he could manage.

He knew it was pathetic to confess that now, like it wasn’t obvious already, like it was going to change anything.

“I want to give you something…” you reached for your bag, and Miguel’s breath caught in his throat when he saw what you pulled out— a Polaroid picture.

He took the picture from you, a nostalgic smile spread across your face when he saw the image. It was a picture from your early days at Alchemax, back when he had still been pretending to be annoyed with you.

In the photo, he was giving his signature grumpy glare, arms crossed over his broad chest, while you stood behind him and grinning widely. You were not bothered at all by his gruff demeanor.

“I wanted to wait until the last minute to give it to you,” you rubbed your neck sheepishly.

Miguel chuckled at your words. It was so typical of you, waiting to give him something special at just the right moment.

“Of course you did.” he replied fondly, his fingers tracing the picture gently. He slipped the photo in his wallet, a place where he could keep it close. “It’s perfect…thank you,”

It was more than just a picture, it was a snapshot of a moment in time, a memory he’d hold onto long after you were gone.

You look back up at him, your expression earnest and vulnerable. “Bésame?”

“Con mucho gusto, mi amor,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he closed the distance between the two of you.

He cradled your face in his hands, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. His lips traced over the contour of yours, savouring the moment before fully capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

The kiss was everything— desperate, filled with unspoken words and unfulfilled yearnings. He wanted to hold onto this moment forever, to keep you with him like this just a little longer, but he knew he had to let you go.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, though he rested his forehead on yours, his breath becoming in ragged gasps.

“Be safe, okay?” he murmured.

“I’ll call you when I land...if I get any signal,” you replied with a shaky smile.

You start to queue up for the security gates, your luggage trailing behind you. Miguel’s heart twists as the line slowly gets shorter, the distance between you growing with each passing second.

He couldn’t do anything but watch with his hands shoved deep in his jeans pockets. His eyes were fixated on your figure, memorising every last detail of you.

He knew that once you went through those gates, he would never be able to kiss you, or hold you, or touch you.

Just as you disappeared out of sight, behind the security gates, the airport intercom called out your flight number and announced the final boarding call.

He watched the departure board change to ‘In Air’ which was the final push to turn away. He walked back to his car, the Polaroid photo in his wallet burned into his psyche.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @nina-from-317 @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @cupcakeinat0r @club-danger-zone @kavimoo

@fullmetalgizzy @frogs-and-oscar-brainrot @embearlyhere @soymiguelsesposa @twwcs

@safixiovi @tatatida @ghostsdoll @hyjionie @tomalymme

@saintdiior

Look, I know the smut seems a little rushed here but I didn’t want to focus on the spice in this story but rather the bittersweet, emotionally rollercoaster.

Ayrus xoxo

[messenger-of-babel]

Make it Better

Summary: You wanted to be better for him, but maybe better wasn't what he wanted.

Word Count: 1.6K

Notes: Argghhh I had a chance to cook, and chat, I fear I fumbled. Through two rounds of drafting too,. Ah well, I solemnly swear to do more Dick content regardless. 😤

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You smoothed down your clothes, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your forehead was creased lightly in worry, fingers playing with your hair as you tried to get it to sit right. No matter what you did, nothing seemed to look the way you wanted. You didn't like the jewellery you wore, or the way you had done your hair. Your clothes seem wrinkled in the light no matter how many times you undressed to steam them, and the vibrant blue you wore seemed to be wearing you instead. You sigh, head coming to thump against the mirror.

You swear you had tried to do better than this.

It was always the same pit of nervousness that came off of going to one of the Wayne Family Gala's, so deep and endless in your stomach it felt like the rest of you would just fall through. Not only that, but you were also on the arm of one of the heirs of Gotham, one of the princes whose face was on every magazine cover and every second teenager’s bedroom wall.

Dealing with cameras that flashed nonstop, light so blinding you thought it had been daylight the first time you experienced it. A red carpet walk that felt like a vulture's strip, your name being screamed at by faceless reporters, microphones and cameras waving over the red rope stanchions to try and pry your comment from you. It was all so overwhelming, the sounds and lights. You surely would have collapsed the first time, if it hadn't been the comforting weight that slipped around your waist, and the dazzling smile that took the heat off you.

Dick's hand always knew how to keep you grounded during those events, tracing small shapes into your waist and turning you so he could take the brunt of the cameras. Waving to every news reporter and journalist frothing at the mouth for his statement, always offering some upbeat support for whatever the cause was, while they wrote it like the word of God. The same hand that would guide you through the doors of the venue and out of reach of the squabble outside, looking down at you with the boyish blue eyes you adored and white grin stretched across his face.

"You okay?" he'd ask softly, and you always nodded. The tension in your body melted away when his eyes searched yours so earnestly, trying to pick apart if you were lying. His own worry always seemed to dwarf your own, making you smile as you reassured him that you were fine.

You wanted to get better this time.

So, when you arrived for the Christmas Ball held by the Mayor in the Park, you had already prepped yourself. Dick had come to collect you in his car, smile bright and dazzling when he saw you. It was like he saw past all the flaws you could highlight in your outfit, not caring that the shade of blue you were wearing didn't match his tie exactly, and that despite all your efforts your hair refused to co-operate. He made no comment on your jewellery despite how you felt that the silver you picked didn't match with the rest of what you were wearing, or that it clashed with the gold on your shoes. He just opened the car door for you, kissing your cheek as his hand came to the middle of your back where it belonged.

"You look amazing." he hummed; eyes bright as he shut your door for you. You smiled weakly back in response, tension easing slightly. he could tell your anxiety hadn't gone down, evident in the way his thumb drew circles on your thigh, one hand resting there while the other gripped the wheel. Your hands felt cold despite the car's heater going full blast, and your cheeks were numb. The pit in your stomach threatened to swallow you whole again, adrenaline running through your body like you were fighting for your life. It made your throat close up, worsening as the car rolled to a stop.

"You going to be okay?" he asks softly, hand coming to gently cup your face. You nod, although your smile was tense.

You could do better. This night was going to be fine.

"Yeah. I'm ready." you reply back, the clamouring of reporters and the frantic clicking of shutters were dulled while you were in the car, but you knew it would turn into a roar the second the seal of the door cracked. "We'll make the entry quick; I promise." he smiles, hurrying out from the driver’s seat to come to your door, the paparazzi outside growing ten times louder now that a prince of Gotham has shown his face.

Like the true gentleman he is, he offered his hand to help you climb out from the passenger’s side, broad shoulders blocking most of the flashes aimed your way. You tilt your head up, and your breath is stolen for a moment.

"Good?" he mouths to you, and you wordlessly nod. Illuminated by the flashes of the cameras behind him he looked heaven sent, a bright halo ghosting over the contours of his face and the dip of his cupid's bow. You nod, and he brings you out in front of the crowd. The flashes blind you as usual, but you do your best to send a few smiles their way, waving at a couple of reporters that make you pose together for photos. A perfect couple, that's what you tried to be. Tried to be someone worth standing next to the human turned angel next to you.

You hold yourself together, feeling more and more confident as you walk your way down the carpet, until you’re out of sight. You turn to him now hidden behind the privacy of the event doors, beaming up at him. He reciprocates his smile, hands settling onto your hips as he pulls you close for only a moment. "Getting the hang of it I see," he teases, "I told you; you were made for the spotlight."

He chuckles at the light flush that envelops your features, arm looped with yours as he guides you into the ballroom.

That one comment makes you feel on top of the world, inspiring you to come out of your shell and mingle with everyone, glass in your hand. You felt seen, branching off for conversations and even getting along well with some of his brothers as they arrive. The anxiety smooths out from your forehead, shoulders relaxing and smiles coming more easily.

That was until you saw her.  More accurately, until you saw him looking at her.

Barbara entered the ballroom, clad in a beautiful, deep purple dress and her gorgeous orange hair falling down her back. Your shoulders raised again, fingers tightening on the glass flute uncomfortably.

She was gorgeous, of course. You told her any time you saw her around, since she was still invited to the family dinners every couple of months. Tense smiles swapped between you both, with conversation just polite enough to cover any awkwardness. Were you apprehensive when you started dating Dick and he told you that they were still friends? of course you were. Was it a worry when they had “work” discussions you weren’t allowed to be in? You had cried over some of those nights.  But his smile was charming, and he treated you like you were his earth.

Well, if you were his earth, he was looking at her like she was his sun.

You swear you could see galaxies in the deep blue of his eyes, stars in the smile that fell across his face when she waved at him. Even when she disappeared into the sea of rich Gothamites, his eyes sought her out like an asteroid in orbit. Everything felt like it was collapsing around you, spotlight of confidence cut off and leaving a cool chill across your skin.

Your clothes felt itchy and off colour again, jewellery felt cheap. Your shoes didn't fit right, and your hair looked unflattering in the window reflections. Like Cinderella your clock had struck midnight, except you hadn't even gotten to dance yet. Your stomach rolled, butterflies from before attaching to your sides and cocooning again, going still. Your heart felt heavy, sitting low in your throat and preventing you from calling his name. He looked so spellbound, so full of longing in the way that his lip’s part softly in a sigh.

When he blinks it's like he comes out of a trance and he takes a moment to collect himself again, hand coming to rest once more on your waist. He looks down at you, and you take in his features again. The starlight in his eyes has dulled, his smile still soft but nowhere near as radiant. You had no idea if he realised what he had done, if he was aware of the way he radiated sunlight simply from looking at her. "Let's go get something to eat, dinner will be served soon." he grins, leading you along after your tight-lipped smile and nod. He grinned at the high class he passed, politely navigating them with you at his side completely unknowing that they'd all witnessed his visible adoration. Oblivious himself to the fact that his heart was still in love with the commissioner’s daughter, despite having you by his side.

You wanted to it to all get better, and for a moment it had.

However, as he pulled out your chair for you and you made eye contact with the gorgeous, green eyed woman across from you, the reality sank in that no matter how much you wanted to do better, you would never be able to do better than the memory of her.

[dumbification]

PLEASE, GIRL, YOU'RE MY LOVE BELT ft. sunday

( synopsis ) you don’t love him anymore, and he knows that himself. but whatever he could do to make you stay, he’d do it, as he needs you so much–needs you like oxygen. he might just lock you up in a pretty cage, pretty enough to match your face, to keep you safe with him forever. you're his love belt, and you know that yourself.

( tags ) sunday x fem!reader, slight angst, mild nsfw, bondage kink, voyeurism, he cums in his pants, fingering, possessiveness, one sided love, sunday is a weirdo, lots of angsty pining, sad make out session

( wc ) 2.1k

( toni's note ) i had sm fun writing this. but anyway.. wooooosh.. i'm on a roll, aren't i? enjoy this 5 month late gift I made for @nvuy :3 LOVE YA LOTS, MISAAAA !!

with the tall, stained glass window left open, a calm breeze enters your room. the soft moonlight brightens the place, and bounces off of your skin. this is it, you’re staring at yourself in the mirror, in your white nightdress, unsure of what you’re even doing. it’s weird, isn’t it? you were so infatuated with sunday, harping on about him to everyone you came across, anyone who even mentioned his name. but now, here you are–preparing yourself and your belongings, to flee this mansion of his, and the grasp of someone who was once your lover–at heart, at least. you’re startled at the sudden but gentle knock at your door. the very door creaks open to reveal a groggy sunday peeping through the cracks. fuck, he shouldn’t even be awake right now. “my dove, where have your things gone?” he croaks, rubbing one of his eyes with the back of his palm.

“ah. i’m just.. rearranging my room.” it hurts, it’s your first time lying to him, ever. you hope he was tired enough to have whatever you said slip his mind, but he saw right through you and your words–and you’re pretty sure you know that yourself. he frowns. “then, may you explain to me why all of your things have disappeared, even outside of your room?” he crosses his arms, and that’s when you both knew that you fucked up. maybe, just maybe, you could save yourself right now. “about that,” you kick away the suitcase which laid beside your feet. “i’d just like everything that belongs to me, y’know, inside my room–” “don’t lie to me, love.” he looks away to focus on the unholy amount of luggages and cases behind you. welp, as he takes a few steps towards you, your legs start to quiver in fear. the silence that follows pierces your ears, leaving you practically deaf.

and before you know it, he’s inches away from your face. “you know what i can do, right?” you hesitatingly nod your head, knowing what he’s capable of, and knowing that he can get anything out of you. “then why should i have to get it out of you, before you tell me yourself?” there’s genuine hurt in his eyes, and it hurts you even more. “i—i don’t know.” you choke out a pathetic response, throat already closing up and eyes swelling with tears threatening to fall down. “please.” he’s about to be on his knees. you made up your mind, and with a heavy heart, it was all or nothing. “sunday,” your voice falters. he focuses entirely on you now, wiping the tears building up at the corners of your eyes. “i don’t love you anymore.” his stare widens. “say that again, dear?” he sounds distraught, unable to believe what you said just now. your lips purse, unable to let those five words slip out again. “i don’t love you anymore, sunday.” his own throat closes up, speechless. he felt as though the world was caving in on him, his life crumbling apart. he never thought he’d hear that from you, little ol’ you, who loved him so dearly, and promised to do so until death. 

he chuckles a little, dryly, denying the bitter truth that just came out of your mouth. “you’re kidding. right?” his lips curl into a smile full of hope, hope in the fact that you’re lying to him again. but it pains him to know that you’re not lying, and it’s very much true, at the back of his mind, he could tell that you’ve fallen out of love lately. every romantic gesture or sign of affection he’d show every other while, would elicit nothing from you back. did he make you mad? or have you felt pity for his love for you this entire time? no, that couldn’t be. sunday can pull the truth out of anyone, but he’s never had to do it with you. you’re an honest person, and you both know that. it’s not like you to lie, so why would you? “right?” this time, his voice has a threatening tone to it, chilling you down to the bone. he cups your face to look you deep in the eye, looking for a yes, somewhere inside there.

“i’m not kidding.” you gently push him away, telling him for the nth time, that you really don’t love him at all anymore. “then what’s next?” sunday reaches out to hold your hand, now caressing it with his thumb. “i’m leaving in the morning, with everything else.” your eyes avert his gaze, which you’re sure now hold a grudge on you. but he’s not like that–to hold a grudge on someone who once loved him, right? “no,” he smiles, a breathy chuckle leaving through his teeth. “no, no, no, no..” sunday brings his hands to his head. you feel a rush of fear down your spine. “you’re not going anywhere. you should know this.” at that moment, a sudden feeling of drowsiness hit you. feeling like collapsing, the world around you spins, and in a state of total relaxation, you fall to the ground–but before you reach the floor, sunday catches you as you faint.

—-

after a while, you stir awake–and wake up to be inside a large, golden cage, adorned in jewels and gemstones. it’s magnificent–the moonlight shines on each singular gem, reflecting the colors onto your face. you try to feel your face, and around the cage–but your hands stay in place. you find yourself to be in a kneeling position and tightly tied up in rope–with your hands bonded together above your head–and ankles separated, tied to the bars of the cage you kneel in. it’s an uncomfortable feeling, even your waist is tied back to the cage. you struggle and panic in place, unable to slip the rope off. “it’s no use,” sunday mutters, walking towards your helpless figure. “even if you found a way to untie yourself, you wouldn’t budge an inch, anyway.” you grunt and whine, doing your best to even move a muscle, but to no avail. 

“let me go.” you pleaded on your knees, quite literally. but he denied each and every one of your empty promises, promises to stay. “i know what you’re thinking–again, don’t lie to me.” “get out of my mind.” you hiss, tears threatening to break and fall down your face. he can’t promise that, as you can’t promise to stay no longer anyway. “please. stay here with me.” he sounds mad, furious, even–but he treats you so gently–each time he touches your face or hand, he does it with such care, like you’re glass. it pains your heart, knowing the anger and sorrow he holds deep inside him, but he still handles you so carefully like you’re the most delicate of porcelain dolls.

his eyes flicker at your neck, covered in marks he believes he’s never left. an empty feeling fills his gut, he feels sick to his stomach–knowing that someone else has touched you. practically crawling to you, he proceeds to leave trails of gentle kisses along the crook of your neck. you silently plead for him to go on by craning your head to the side, giving sunday more access. “why..” his voice rasps, shaking uncontrollably. you let it go, and start to sob out of sympathy for the man. “i’m sorry.” “no you’re not.” but you know that he knows, that you’re telling the truth. you truly feel sorry for him, and you show it through your heavy tears, rolling down your cheeks. 

“don’t cry, my dove.” he says so softly, with no sign of anger this time. his thumb reaches up to wipe away the tears which stain your face, while he continues to leave small bruises and bites on your neck. “can you tell me why you don’t love me anymore?” “no.” even through knowing your mind and thoughts, he couldn’t find out why you would fall out of love, either. “do you even know?” his want to know about this was genuine. “..no.” you sniffle and hiccup.

“how do i make you love me again?” 

“i don’t know.”

 “can i..” his words trail off, but you know what he’s talking about. “please.” he unbuttons your nightdress, slipping it down to your hips. you can see it in his eyes that he’s disappointed. “how do you not love me,” your waist spasms as he traces circles right above your cunt. “when you’re this wet?” you couldn’t help but arch your back and whine as his other hand traced your spine, sending tingling sensations down it. he purposefully avoids your wet cunt, even your breasts, as he carefully feels around your body, barely brushing his fingers across your skin. it’s so sweet–it’s sweet how delicately he handles you, how he softly speaks to you, but it feels like torture–it felt torturous how forgiving his touch was, or how he was telling you your own thoughts, nitpicking at your own lies to him, to yourself. “c-can’t help it..” your breath shakes and falters as you weakly smile.

he unbuckles his pants to pull it down and push it aside, to reveal the very visible bulge in his underwear. “you wouldn’t mind?” he shifts his head to give you a pleading look. and as weird as it feels and looks, you let him. he groans, rubbing his palm against his clothed cock, circling his thumb at the tip. “i love you.” he repeats, on and on. you wish you could help him out, but all you could do was watch and grind your hips against the floor in desperation as he pleasures himself. this was also torturous. “c-close. i’m close.” in minutes, he cums in his boxers, shooting his load inside not you, but nothing, this time. his dick twitches and quivers, softening up.

“you don’t know how much i love you,” he brings his hand to handle the bars of the cage behind you, and his mouth to your ear. “and how much this hurts me.” he lets go of you, and for the first time in a while, you see a few tears roll out of his eyes. the swelling of your heart worsens at seeing him cry, the pounding reaching your throat. “do you believe me?” “i always have.” you sniffle. you know that he believes you deserve a more harsh punishment, but he could never bring himself to it–just the thought of that makes you want to cry even more, because you know he loves you far more than you love him.

“you deserve worse.”

“i know.” you weep.

with ease, sunday slips off his gloves in mere seconds, then lining his fingers up at your entrance, teasing your wet folds. your hips buck towards him, trying to get more friction in between your thighs–and he pushes them in. his fingers pump in and out, deep inside, buried inside your pussy. you moan and whine, still loving how good he makes you feel. “do you only love me for this?” “i–i don’t love you at all.” you cry. well, now you’re just lying to yourself. sunday brings himself closer to your face as he continues to pleasure you, seeing every part of your face twitch in satisfaction.

his eyes flutter down to your lips, and lightly pecks them–those small pecks turning into long, passionate kisses. with a furrowed brow from all the pleasure, you give in and kiss him back. your tongues tie and twist around each other, eliciting moans from one another. tears continue to drip down your face like a continuous babbling creek, dribbling down your cheeks, all the way to drop from your chin. he kept on thrusting his fingers up your cunt, until you came all over them. waves and jolts crash and strike through you as you ride out your orgasm on his digits. he pulls away, both his fingers and lips, to see how pretty the view was—and how beautiful the moonlight looked on your face. “you’re beautiful.” you look down, averting his eyes full of sorrow. “stop.” you might as well close your eyes shut—as he could just make you look up. but he could also just make you open your eyes, there’s no winning here.

you’re forced to look back up at him, chin pinched between his index and thumb. the prolonged eye contact was nerve-wracking. “i’ll let you go.” “what? no—i’ll stay.” sunday rushes in to embrace you, it was uncalled for. even after what you just did together, it seemed weird to you to be this close after everything you had told him. “i don’t think you mean that.” he’s persistent on this, whether you’re telling the truth or not, he’d ignore it. “i really do.” your words seem truthful, laced with falseness. still caught in his embrace, you nudge him away the best you can—but he won’t let go, he needs you so badly, needs you wrapping him up from head to toe.

“oh god, i love you.” you blurt out randomly. it was then when he let go. he almost collapses after hearing what he was longing for from you, even if it were fake. you pant and sigh in between kisses, unable to catch your breath. “you mean it?” “..yeah.” maybe he could ignore the truth behind your lies for now, and bask in the bliss of your false affection, if it means you’ll stay with him forever.

@ dumbification . do not plagiarize or modify my work.

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 18 || The Emotional Arc

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, angst, & fluff.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4.6k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——OKAY... THAT'S WEIRD, VERY WEIRD.

Where the hell is Choso?

For starters, your bedroom is dark so you're pretty sure it's early in the morning-- perhaps two or three am, maybe later. You don't know how long you passed out but based on the stillness and darkness that surrounds you, you can tell the sun has yet to rise.

You slowly sit up, having been lying on your side. The second you move, you can feel the soreness in your legs, "Cho...?" You call out softly.

No response.

Hell, it's almost scary how your voice echoes through your apartment. With the way your bed is, you can see straight out of your bedroom door and you get an awkward view of your living room to some extent.

You're able to tell that the TV is off. A slow gulp emits from you as you swallow hard. Did... Did Choso leave you?

Your head shakes the thought away as quickly as it came. You turn to your nightstand and squint your eyes to look for your phone, soon spotting the device and reaching for it. You have no texts or calls from the man, there's no kind of note left to say anything, and you only grow more worried.

Though, you don't want to panic completely until you make sure you're not going crazy. Maybe he fell asleep on the couch?

Right. With that in mind, you sigh and put your phone back down, carefully swinging your slightly trembling and overly sore legs off the bed. Your feet make contact with the cold floor below and you inhale deeply.

The man is probably just sleeping on the couch out of some kind of respect, right? He probably didn't want to somehow make you uncomfortable by sleeping next to you... Yeah, that sounds like something he'd do.

You have to extend your hand out to your nightstand and use that to stand on your feet. Everything from the waist down feels sore and shaky. You turn away from the nightstand and use whatever surfaces you can to make it to your room door.

Every step you take is frustrating. You thought Mr. Fushiguro had done a number on you but what Choso did was so much worse.

When you get to your bedroom door, you narrow your eyes and take in the entirety of your apartment. It's all dark and you can't see anything. You'd turn on the lights but if Choso's asleep, you don't want to wake him.

So instead, you walk with your arm against the wall, using it to hold yourself up through each step until you eventually reach the living room. You take small but quick steps toward the couch, approaching the back of it and resting your hands on it.

Choso isn't there either.

The couch not only looks completely cleaned of all evidence but it also smells good. There's like a little lemon scent emitting from the freshly cleaned cushions. No one would ever know that you squirted all over Choso's face in this very spot just a few hours ago.

His clothes, which you remembered being in some pile on the floor, are nowhere to be seen. Neither is his phone, keys, or anything that belongs to him. You glance over to your front door where you know shoes are usually lined up and still, no sign of anything belonging to Choso.

Okay... don't panic yet... He could be... in the bathroom?

So, that's your next destination. You wobble toward the guest bathroom, then the bathroom in your bedroom, and even the bathroom in Shoko's bedroom. All void of any signs of Choso. You checked around Shoko's room a little too just in case but still, nothing.

Your heartbeat is steadily increasing in nervousness. There's this subtle panging in your heart but you keep ignoring it as you check other parts of your apartment.

Of course, your apartment is only but so big and there aren't that many places the man could've gone. The last place you end up in is the kitchen and by that time you're hoping and praying that's where he is.

Alas, your kitchen is empty. There's that panging in your chest again, this time stronger than the last and completely unignorable. A shaky exhale leaves your lips as you gather the fact that the man left you.

Sure, he cleaned you off and made sure there was no mess left but... You're left feeling so... used?

You blink, an abrupt wetness glossing over your eyes for a moment. Your sights shoot up to your ceiling as you chuckle at yourself, almost like a madwoman. The sound of your soft laughter fills the air, followed by a sniffle and a shake of your head.

You didn't just get played right?

No. No way. Not when you're already forced to whore yourself out. Not after the weeks you spent getting to know Choso. Not after he left such a beautiful mark on your heart. And certainly not after you caught feelings for him...

A snicker leaves your lips. At this point, you felt like you were going crazy. There's absolutely no way Choso just used you for sex.

You laugh at yourself before exiting your kitchen and wobbling back to your bedroom. You shake your head at your thoughts as you climb back into your bed.

Nope, he didn't just use you. He totally didn't fuck you and leave. Choso definitely did not play you. If anything, you're dreaming right now.

Yeah, that's the most logical thing, right? You waking up alone like this is nothing more than a figment of your imagination--  a nightmare, even.

Surely, if you lay back down and go back to sleep, you'll wake up in the real world where Choso is holding you in his arms and he'll tell you that you had some kinda bad dream about him leaving you.

Mhm, yup, that's exactly what's going to happen. You comfort yourself into your mattress, your head sinking into your pillow as you shut your eyes and try to force yourself back to sleep.

You try to shut your brain up and fall asleep but... your thoughts won't stop.

Is this what you get? Is this some kind of punishment for something you did? Did Choso really leave you like this? Not even a text or note? Just nothing? Is this the kinda guy he really is, the kind to just fuck and leave?

And Gojo said Choso didn't understand the concept of hookup... Yeah, that's bullshit. Hell, everything Gojo's told you is probably bullshit. All his stupid difficulty levels, this stupid list, the stupid amount of money he gives you, that stupid promise he made to you, all of it.

Everything Gojo told you about anyone on that list was a damn lie. It's all a lie. It's all bullshit. None of it makes sense. You hate the list, you hate Gojo, and you think you're gonna hate Choso if you wake up and he's really not there...

There's a sharp throb in your heart at that last thought of yours. You? Hate Choso? In what universe...??

He was so nice to you, so caring, so gentle, so fucking hot... There were no red flags, were there? Did he ever give off anything suspicious or negative-

Holy shit, wait.

Your eyes open and your heart drops for a second.

Did he... Did he find your journal?

As quickly as the thought echoes in your brain, you remember that the journal is hidden in a locked dresser drawer and the key to said lock is in only a place you'd know. Realistically speaking, he'd have to be a really nosy person to have found your journal.

So with that, you scratch that possibility off.

Leaving only one...

Choso left you because he got what he wanted.

But, that just can't be true. You should call him, right? Maybe text him and ask where he went...

Yeah, that's smart.

You sit up halfway and look at your idle phone. For some reason, you just freeze as you look at the device.

Do you really want to know the truth about why he left? What if he doesn't even answer the phone? What if he blocked you? What if he does answer the phone and does a complete one-eighty with his personality? What if Choso is secretly an asshole?

You grit your teeth as you stare at your phone, a sudden slip of water rolling down your cheek. The feeling makes you sit up fully, rushing a hand to your face and wiping the single tear away.

Does that help though? No. Right after one tear, multiple begin streaming down your face. Fuck, you can't do this right now.

It's too much. Between the overwhelming stress you've been suppressing for weeks because of the list, the sudden feeling of being used, thinking Choso's just an asshole, and the horrid ache in your legs... you can't take it anymore.

Everything sucks. This profuse rush of stress, anxiety, and self-pity engulfs you. Is this all you are to these men? Just some tool for them to use whenever they want?

Gojo uses you to clear his debt and now Choso uses you for... what, his own amusement??

So this is all you're good for then. This is all they view you as-- a tool.

You dread this feeling swirling in your heart. You feel like trash, like you've been abandoned by the one person you least expected it from.

Tears are coming in a little heavier now as you pull your knees to your chest and cry into your blanket. You're too scared to call or text him. You don't even want to face the truth, too scared of the reality you may have to face.

Things were going so well for you just a few hours ago. Is this some kind of curse or something? This is the second time things have gone from great to terrible in less than twenty-four hours.

And like always, aside from yourself, you blame Gojo for it all. Damn him. It's his fault you met Choso, his fault you had to seduce the guy... not so much his fault that you caught feelings though-- that's on you.

The sound of your sniffles and soft weeps fills the dead air of your apartment.

You don't know how long you sit there crying but it was long enough for a headache to develop.

Now everything hurts; your legs, your heart, and your head. You're in such a shit mood and you're so consumed by all these emotions that you can't even stop yourself from crying.

"Shit," A voice sighs out, the sound followed by a soft thud.

Your head flies up from your blanket at the noise, your eyes frantically searching the darkness outside your bedroom.

All teary-eyed and emotional, you just barely make out a figure approaching your bedroom.

Your brows push together and after a sniffle, your voice comes out choked, "Ch-Choso?"

With his hair down casually, a white and red plastic bag in his hands, and his eyes down on his phone before he walks into your room, Choso Kamo's silhouette is made out despite your hazed vision.

"Hm? Did you call me?" Choso hums, his brows quickly pushing together and his voice filled with confusion as to why you sound so distraught.

You wonder if you imagine the way he places both the bag in his hands and his phone down on the bed before making his way over to you.

Choso takes a seat in front of you and due to the dark, he couldn't quite tell you were crying. You're blinking and trying to wipe away your tears, sniffling multiple times to collect yourself.

The man leans closer to you and his brows furrow, "Heyyy," He whispers softly, lifting a hand to your cheek, "I didn't mean to wake you-, shit, a-are you crying?" Choso asks, panicked.

You swallow and open your mouth but with the way your lips quivered, you end up shutting your mouth and simply shaking your head. Your bottom lip slips into your mouth as you try your best to bite back more tears.

You really thought he had abandoned you and now you're just embarrassed.

Scooting closer to you, Choso moves to cup your face in his hands and swipe his warm thumbs under your eyes, wiping your tears.

"What's wrong?" He whispers, his voice so soft and gentle with you that it basically adds to your sadness.

Choso feels the way more tears leave your eyes and he continues to wipe each one away. The man then leans closer to you, searching your eyes with his own, "C'mon baby, talk to me. Why're you crying?" He urges.

The way he's treating you right now is only making it worse, especially with the little nicknames.

"I..." You sniffle and try to collect yourself by batting your lashes. "U-Uhm..."

Choso tilts his head at you, awaiting your every word. He gives you only a few seconds before he figures that talking might be difficult for you right now. "Did you think I left you?" Choso asks, quickly putting two and two together.

You grit your teeth and nod before you start to tear up all over again.

Choso frowns and his hands move from your face. One goes to the back of your head to pull your face down into his chest and the other goes behind you, tugging your body close to his in a comforting hug.

The steady feeling of his hand running up and down your back makes the tension you feel begin to fade away. You cry into the man's hold, feeling yourself just melt into his arms. It feels like it's been forever since you've been comforted like this and it's like you were letting out all your emotions at once.

Choso holds you, rubbing the back of your head for a while before shifting so that he can talk into your ear. His voice is low but soft, "Shh, I'm right here... m'sorry for leaving you," He murmurs.

You sniffle heavily and lift your head slightly. "It's okay..." You sigh quietly, "I... S-Sorry for crying-"

"Stop that," Choso coos, "Stop apologizing for things that aren't your fault. I... I knew I should've left a note but I didn't think you'd wake up." He explains carefully.

You swallow and suck in a deep breath to calm yourself down. Your body is so flushed with emotions that tears keep dropping from your eyes.

Choso moves again, this time wrapping both of his arms around your waist and hugging you. Your head goes over his shoulder and you feel him turn his face to you.

The next thing you feel is Choso kissing your neck gently, "I left to go pick up some stuff..." His lips linger on your skin for a second before he barely pulls away, "I'm sorry."

"N-No, I shouldn't even be crying," You breathe out.

He kisses you again, beginning to trail up until he gets under your jaw. "It's okay, you probably thought I just abandoned you, right?" Choso wonders, voicing his concern in between kisses.

You nod a little, exposing more of your neck to him as your head rises. He continues to kiss your neck, slowly making you feel better.

"I'm sorry..." He sucks on your skin softly, his breath hitting you as he speaks, "...So sorry. I'd never do that to you, princess."

"Cho..." You whisper, slowly pulling yourself away from him.

He tugs you back and keeps you in place, "Don't move away from me, I need you to hear me," He whispers, leaning his face away from your neck and moving to look you in the eyes, "I'd never do that to you, understand?" Choso says seriously.

You swallow and nod your head.

"And I'm sorry." He apologizes yet again, "I should've left a note or a text."

"It's okay-"

"No, it's not." Choso cuts off, "You felt used, didn't you?"

Your eyes switch focus from his left to right eye, "Kinda..."

"Be honest," He says.

"Y-Yeah. I thought... I thought you got all you wanted from me." You voice out in a soft tone, evidence of your emotions present in the way you sound.

Choso scoffs, "You think sex is all I want from you?"

Those words make your heart convulse in an odd way.

The male narrows his eyes at you, "Have I not reassured you enough?" He asks.

You blink, "R-Reassured me?"

He grins briefly, "Sex isn't the only thing I want from you. I want a lot more than that, princess."

Shit, that might be worse than him abandoning you. You absolutely can not do a relationship right now.

"Choso, I-"

"I wasn't joking when I said you're my muse," Choso cuts off again, brown eyes filled with so much care and affection that it makes your stomach churn. He then inches his face closer and whispers, "You inspire me. Before I met you, no woman has ever made me feel the way you make me feel."

You swallow hard. Is he confessing to you right now? "Choso, I... Are you..." You trail off, unsure of what to ask him.

"No, I'm not confessing to you." He clarifies, clearly reading your mind. "My confession to you is going to be a lot more than this."

You blink excessively, "So, you plan on confessing to me?"

He shrugs cheekily, "Maybe."

"Choso." You say as sternly as you can.

"Yes baby?"

You freeze, "First off, stop that."

"Stop what?" Choso asks innocently, moving his hands to your face again.

"You know what." You huff as he wipes your tears away. "And secondly, are you really planning on confessing to me?"

His eyes are focused on removing the wetness from your face, "I don't know."

"Choso please-"

"Probably." He adds.

Again, your heart sinks a little. Yes, you want a relationship with him but not right now.

It takes you a second to respond and Choso continues to wipe your face off. With a deep breath, your voice is soft and small as you question him, "So you like me?"

"Of course I like you," Choso replies, clearly meaning it in a friendly way.

You roll your eyes at him. "I mean, so you have a crush on me?"

Choso looks at your lips for a moment and then grins, "I didn't say that."

"Well then what do you mean you might confess to me?" You ask eagerly. His lack of clarity is frustrating you, "Confess what to me?"

"You'll find out when I confess." He explains to you.

"Confess what??" You emphasize.

"I'm not telling you right now."

"Why?"

Choso lets out a sigh and retracts his hands from your face, "Cause' I don't need to."

You're bothered that he's not being clear with you. "What do you mean you don't need to??"

"The fact that I have something to confess to you should be enough reassurance." Choso finally gets out.

"Oh... So making me wonder what you want to confess to me is your form of reassurance?"

"Mhm. I wouldn't abandon you if I still had something to confess, right?"

"I mean, I guess not."

"C'mon Ms. Psychology major," Choso teases before leaning his face closer to you, "Shouldn't you be able to like, read my mind or something?"

You stare at him for a couple of seconds and then let out a chuckle, "That's not how psychology works, silly."

A pleased smile spreads across his handsome face as he hears your laughter. "Really? That's not how it works?" Choso utters playfully.

"No, I can't read minds." You tell him, his smile almost contagious with the way one appears on your face.

"Mmmmh, I don't believe you." Choso hums.

You scoff, "I just study the brain functionality and behavioral aspects of humans-- that's not reading minds."

He falls quiet for a second, just smiling at you with his eyes stuck on your lips. His mouth then moves as he licks his lips and then bites his lower one, lost in a sudden visual appreciation for your face.

Choso's voice gets lower, "Is it weird that I found what you just said attractive?"

There's a hot flash that goes through your face, "Y-You did??"

"Mhm." He hums, "Your intelligence is very... alluring."

"Alluring?" You echo, smiling. "How??"

"Cause' every time you talk about what you study," One of his hands goes to your face again, gently placing his thumb to your lips and outlining them with his nail. "Your face lights up. It's clear you like talking about it."

You shrug, "Yeah, I like talking about it sometimes..."

"All the time," Choso corrects.

"Who's the mind reader now?" You tease.

He chuckles and you watch the way his eyes glide up along your face, soon meeting your own. The man stares deeply into your irises, studying them for the millionth time.

It's odd but you think you love the way he does that. The way his eyes study different parts of you whenever he can draws you to him.

"So uh..." You swallow and look away from his gaze, focusing on the nearby plastic bag. "What'd you go get?"

Choso tilts his head in the direction you've looked into, trying to get you to focus on him again.

You continue to keep your sights elsewhere up until he leans his face closer to yours, his thumb still outlining parts of your lip.

"Look at me," He murmurs to you.

It's slow but, you do. When your eyes meet his, he grins.

"Ask your question again please, I didn't hear you the first time." Choso requests softly.

You blink, wondering why he needs this direct eye contact in order to have such a simple conversation. "I asked you what you left to go get." You repeat, nodding your chin toward the bag.

His brows raise slightly, "Oh, just a few things." He hums, removing his hand and just barely taking his eyes off of you as he turns to grab the bag and place it in between the two of you, "I originally went to my car to grab meds but the bottle was empty so I had to go to the store really quickly," He explains.

"So that's why you were gone for so long?" You ask.

"Yeah, I wasn't expecting the pharmacy to be so far from here..." Choso sighs gently.

You glance down at the bag, breaking eye contact, "Y'know I have a medicine cabinet... Whatever you went to go get, I'm sure I have it already-"

"Didn't wanna go through your stuff," Choso shrugs, "And plus, I also used being out as an excuse to uh... buy myself a change of clothes."

Your head tips to the side and you look up from the bag and to his face, "So you plan on spending the night?"

His eyes are already on yours as you gaze at him, "Of course." He claims confidently.

For some reason that makes you smile, "Of course? Why'd you say it like that?"

"How was I supposed to say it? Of course I'm spending the night after all that I did to you. I can't just leave you after that," Choso scoffs.

"Mmh." You hum, inching toward him with a smile, "Is that so?"

"Yes ma'am." He replies, returning a smile to you as you get closer to him. "Is that alright? Am I allowed to spend the night with you, princess?"

You shrug, "Yeah, I guess..."

"You guess?"

"Mhm."

Your face is roughly an inch away from his, your head tilted and your eyes low on his lips. Choso can tell you were leaning in for a kiss but he wants to tease you about it so he pulls himself back.

Your eyes widen at how he moves away from you and you pout, "Choso..."

"Ma'am?" He replies, his tone taunting.

"Why'd you pull away from me?" You question.

He smirks, "Why were you getting so close?"

"Cause' I wanted to kiss you. Now come back," You order.

Choso's smirk grows into another smile, "Aw, you wanted to kiss me?"

His teasing frustrates you so you sigh dramatically and roll your eyes at him, "Never mind now." You huff.

The man is simply infatuated with your reaction. "You gotta' ask for one, pretty girl." He tells you.

"Nope," You start to lay back down on your side, uncomfortably stretching your legs past the man as he remains seated over the blanket. "I don't want one anymore."

"Because you have to ask for it?" Choso chuckles.

"No, because you pulled away from me..." You mumble.

You're being dramatic but he seems to enjoy you acting in such a way.

"You're a big baby, y'know that?" Choso tells you with a sigh.

The bed moves around as he shifts, a heavier dip felt in the mattress behind you due to him turning and pressing his knee into the bed. One hand is placed in front of your body and the other is behind your back before you see him peering down at you.

Slowly, you lay on your back instead of your side and look directly up at him. A leg goes over your body and Choso holds himself up over you, his knees straddling your legs.

He slowly leans down to you and goes right past your face, moving his lips to your neck, "...You wanted a kiss, huh?" He whispers into you.

The man places soft kisses along the side of your neck and you smile, "Yeah, I did..."

"What kinda' kiss do you want, baby?" Choso murmurs, moving under your jaw and sucking the skin there, "A slow kiss?" He hushes out, "A rough one?"

The man lifts from your neck and his face hovers right over yours.

"A sloppy kiss?" Choso continues to question before just barely pressing his lips into yours.

You try to kiss him back but he slides a little and takes your bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it carefully. He then pulls on it a little as he lifts away from your mouth, releasing your lip after a second and letting it fall back into place.

"Hm? Tell me, how do you want me to kiss you?" Choso asks you, lips brushing over your own as he speaks.

You lift your arms and wrap them around his neck, "Doesn't matter how... I just need your lips on mine."

He smirks, "Right. And who am I to deny you of your needs?"

With that, the sweet sensation of his lips pressing into your own finally occurs.

You've never felt so whole while kissing someone before. God, you can literally feel yourself falling for this man. And maybe it's only because of your predicament that you find yourself feeling so strongly for someone who treats you right but, you could care less.

Accepting your feelings for him is the sole thing you have to focus on.

After all, somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember... you still have to sleep with three other guys who you haven't even met yet.

But you can do this. You'll pull it all off with no problems.

...Right?

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎

NANAMI KENTO ☐

??? SUKUNA ☐

??? NAOYA ☐

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[dumpywrites]

Locked! - Min Yoongi / Suga

Prompt: Your friends locked you together for an hour so you can make up. 

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Slight angst, fluff, boyfriend Yoongi/established relationship

Pairing: Yoongi x she/her reader

a/n: imagining the atmosphere of BTS in the soop helps with the mood! :)

“Jin! Get me out!!!”

“Sorry, I’m only following orders!” 

Two hours before this, you were in your bedroom, contemplating whether you should really go to this short trip your friends had been planning for weeks. The idea sounded great in your mind until the very last week. 

You had been fighting with your boyfriend for a week now. In the eight months of dating him, this was by far the longest you had fight with each other. Yoongi was mostly, if not every time, the most caring and chill person you knew. The thing was, he was so chill to the point he would let a random woman touch his face freely, caressing his cheek like he did not belong to you. 

Sure, he was tipsy, at least that was his first excuse. But he was sober enough to see that his girlfriend was standing not too far away from him. Adding more to the fuel, apparently they used to work together and you had never even heard any of that nonsense. 

That night you refuse both to go home with him and his offer to take you home. Your dramatic self almost called a cab if not for Jungkook dragging you to his car, basically volunteering to go home early just to safe the situation. 

Must be the ego of the man, because Yoongi did not reach out to you after that. While he apologized right at the venue, you wanted him to come and comfort you, talk just the two of you to sort things out. But you two were alike after all, because just like him, your ego forbid you to even just text him. In your defense, he was at fault. 

And that was how you ended up in Namjoon’s private villa, where you were supposed to have fun with your friends. The sour expression was not leaving you anytime soon, not when Yoongi was also there in the room with you. 

Jin suggested a dance off on his switch. Man had not shut up ever since he got the latest copy of Just Dance in his console. Obviously you were not having it, so instead you just stood behind, watching Namjoon and Jungkook dance off to Rain on Me by Lady Gaga. 

“Hey, uh, Y/N? Can you get my joycon strap? They’re my room…”

You got up lazily and walked to the said room, completely unaware of the fact someone was already sleeping inside. 

And that was how you got into this whole situation. 

“Jin!!!” 

You yelled again, but this time there was no more response came from the older guy, only the sound of the boys changing the song to play next. Clearly, they were not planning on getting both of you out very soon. 

The yelling and banging at door awoken the other person in the room. You both stare at each other for a few seconds, before you broke the eye contact. You moved quietly to sit down on a chair, facing your back to him. 

“They locked us up.” You said while pretending to browse your phone, busying yourself on nothing. 

The guy just straighten himself up on the bed, sitting down and grabbed his phone and started scrolling without answering to your words. 

“You’re not gonna say anything?” You snapped. You were not having his silent treatment. 

Yoongi put down his phone and sighed heavily. “What do you want me to say?”

“Whatever.” 

You groaned, standing up from your seat, you headed to the other bed just next to his. You laid down and put the blanket to cover yourself wholly. If he could just go to sleep and run away from his problems, then so could you. 

Maybe it was the tiredness from the trip, but eventually you fell asleep in just a few minutes. But the sleep only took you for a couple of minutes before the cool weather woke you up, made you shiver. You tossed and turned on the bed, hugging yourself close. 

“Are you cold?” 

You heard the voice said. The ego within you refused to react, so you stayed unmoved inside the bedcover. 

His voice called for your name again for the second time, but still, you refused to move. It was the hint of gentleness and loving in his tone, or maybe just the fact that you missed him so much, you just started tearing up silently. 

“Can you stop being childish?” 

You heard him again, but this time the source of his voice sounded very near, as if he was just right behind you. 

And you were right. He peeled the cover just until your waist, exposing yourself from underneath. You were still hugging yourself, folding your wrists together under your chin, eyes all covered. 

He sighed loudly, before your eyes jolted open at the feeling the other side of the bed dipped in with the weight of his body. 

“Don’t.” 

You stopped him. Clearly at this point he was aware of you crying but you did not care. All you knew was that you would instantly melt the moment he touch you and you didn’t want him to win you back over that easily. 

“At least let me cuddle you, I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Just turn off the aircon.”

“The remote is in the living room. The one they have outside isn’t working.” 

You groaned. The universe really wasn’t on your side this time. 

“Ugh, whatever I’ll yell at them to get us out…”

“Okay, stop.” 

You looked at his direction and saw the frustration distinctly written on his face. 

“What do you want?!” You folded your arms at him. “You clearly didn’t want to talk with me before.” 

“I…” He found it hard to make out his words. “Look, I just—“

“Do you wanna break up?” 

It was an impulsive thing for you to say. You did not actually mean it of course. You loved him, you loved him a lot that you could barely handle not being close with him for a week. You could not imagine how you would handle an actual breakup with him. 

“Jesus, no.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Let’s talk this through…” 

You saw how he stretched his arm, like he was about to hold yours, but stopped in his tracks. 

“Who is she?” You suddenly asked.

Yoongi looked to your eyes and went silent. He seemed to be in deep thoughts. It took him a few moments before he opened his mouth. 

“Her name’s Yujin. We used to work together last year before she resigned. Also used to be somewhat close until I found out she only wanted to get close to me because of my position…” He sighed. “Heard it myself, it was her words not mine. I overheard her talking with someone at our company dinner.”

“I didn’t know…” You said, looking at him sympathetically. “Why haven’t I heard about any of this? Aren’t we friends way long before all of this?”

“I kinda don’t want you to know about how dumb I was.” He raised his eyebrows and huffed. 

“But that night…”

“I know.” He looked at you directly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. Everyone was staring and if I just push her or do anything rude it’d be much worse. As much as I despise her, I didn’t want to embarrass her in the public eye like that.” 

“But I don’t like seeing other people touch you like that…” You looked away as you felt your eyes getting glassy again. 

“Come here.” He took you by your wrist and you landed in his embrace. “I’m sorry.” He said as stroked your hair gently. 

“I miss you…” You said between sniffles. 

“I know, I guess I was angry because you just left and refused to listen to me.”

“I’m sorry too, I was just really jealous.” You hugged him tighter and you could hear him chuckle a little bit. 

“Are we good now?” 

He let go off you to take a good look at your face. His thumb swiped the remaining tears from your eyes and you broke into a smile, nodding at him. He smiled back, showing the gummy smile you loved so much. 

“What do we do with the cold now? Clearly they’re not getting us out until dinner…” He eyed you playfully. 

“You pervert!” You giggled. “But I’m interested…”

Suddenly the man went down from the bed and stood up. You looked at him in utter confusion. Just seconds later, he scooped you and lifted you up in his arms. You yelped loudly in surprise. 

You looked down to see him smiling with eyes full of lust—

“Yo… I think they’re fucking!!!” You heard Hoseok exclaimed. 

“Oh my gosh they are!” Jimin squealed giddily. 

“We still need their help to prepare dinner though…” You heard Namjoon protested in the background. 

“We can hear you, assholes!” Yoongi shouted back.

You heard a mixture of Jungkook and Hoseok’s laughter before the door clicked open. 

“Ayy!” Taehyung teased upon seeing you still in Yoongi’s arms. He had put you down but still had his arms around you. “Now that’s a sight we love to see!”

“Where the hell is Jin?!” You said, storming out the room. 

The oldest laughed at the sight of you looking pissed. “It was Namjoon’s idea!” He pointed at the other guy.

“I couldn’t stand the two of you fighting I like that.” He shrugged. “Plus, if you’re not fighting that means I get to sleep in my room alone cause Yoongi’s gonna sleep in yours.” 

“See? Everyone happy.” Jin laughed and clapped. “Now, go get the meat, we need to prepare for the barbecue!” 

You shook your head and smiled, seeing the silly guys. Yoongi walked from behind you and quickly gave you a kiss on the cheek before joining the chaos in front of you. 

You wouldn’t trade this for the world. 

Thank you for reading! 🍃

Prompt request: HERE

[capslocked]

PART & PARCEL

male reader x sana && tzuyu

18k words

“Is it too late?” Sana asks, and here’s how it always starts with her.

Nevermind that it’s not a question in search of an answer. A normal person could, should, text you. Hey, what’s up? or something equally inconspicuous before turning up the dial, are you busy? can I, like, come over? 

Instead, she’s at your doorstep again, twirling a bundle of honey-blonde between her fingertips as if she doesn't know what all that does to people. Some people say, incorrectly, that these are the hours of the night shared with ghosts. And to that you say: No, these hours belong to Sana, clearly, and apparently nobody fucking else. 

Now in a way, you do get it. It’d be easier to turn back over in your bed and ignore the elegant simplicity of a text message, or one step beyond that, do the unthinkable and finally tell her no, but when she’s standing there - there with that face, like a thousand different excuses or a million little reasons why she needs something from you, right now - and all she has to do is push her lips together, eyebrows going high - 

It is a bit like magic, after all, this feeling when she comes around. 

Everything that happened before - her visits, the first one and then the next - no matter how impossible, gets washed away, and suddenly all you have is her. Her voice, her hair, and a sneaking suspicion that the time apart really isn’t such a bad thing, because you don't always have a guess as to what comes next.

Of course, you were always going to let her in.

“I saw the lights were on,” she adds, starting to shrug off her coat like she knows you will.

“I mean, I’m here,” you say, non-committal.

“Yeah. I can see that.”

The door's half open and the only substantial hesitation you have is when you peer over her shoulder. There’s another girl, propping herself up against the doorframe, with a pretty head of glossy, sable hair falling gracefully down her shoulders, and she looks at least a few years younger than Sana. You smile cautiously at her before giving Sana another, much longer glance. In response, you receive a wink that's as subtle as a brick through a glass window (which only raises more questions). You ask the one that seems most important.

What else would Sana, of all people, possibly want to bring you if not some plaything or another. You've seen it all: girls who liked her money, girls who liked her body, girls who just flat-out liked girls, whatever. The dynamic always seemed to be, as long as everyone is having a good time, nothing to get hung up about - because at the end of the night, everyone comes around to Sana again.

And she comes around to you. 

Why question it.

“This is a little… irregular,” you say with a nod of your chin, as you step back from the door. "Who's the plus one?"

Sana motions the girl in with a sweep of her hand and throws you another disarmingly flirtatious smile - the same one that'd first left you utterly hooked by this strange person, who had, when you first met, walked into your life for five minutes, then fucked your lights out the way she wanted. She goes further with this, of course, teasing a warm smile and slanting an eyebrow.

"I figured I'd bring you a gift," she coos, in this sultry, dusky sing-song of a voice that really needs no followup whatsoever, other than maybe take my clothes off right now, as she makes a show of how she's pushing her shoulders back, like there's an audience to be impressed with the curve of her bust. "Since we were celebrating."

"Uh-huh. What's the occasion?"

"Whatever the hell you'd like," Sana chirps.

With that, she takes you by the collar. And even though the girl she brought is in the middle of, like, peering around curiously in your foyer, Sana leans up on the balls of her feet and kisses you hard. It's a real kiss - no preamble - which is sort of funny, given you would have been more than okay with some. So, naturally, you're caught entirely off-guard. It takes a full ten, fifteen seconds of feeling her hot little mouth pressed insistently up against yours, your mind gone blank with the suddenness of the moment. Your body taking it for granted.

Meanwhile, the other girl blinks - long, dark lashes batting the curve of her cheekbones slowly until Sana has moved to stand in front of her with the full, earnest intention to cup her jaw, tilt her head down a smidge, and kiss her too (very thoroughly, also, in her own way).

Sana lets the girl go with a sharp draw of air and a peck. Then she looks at you, just this side of playful. The way her teeth flash over her bottom lip suggests how she's enjoying, to her bones, this state of affairs: a dalliance with control, with desire, where she can flaunt it.

She tells you to relax, unwind, which you suppose is code for taking another of Sana's friends and bending her over every horizontal surface in your flat and fucking someone the way you've wanted for the last however-long it's been since Sana dropped back into your life. You've done as much. Some rotating cast of characters: Mina, Chaeyoung, Nayeon, the raven haired girl with the perfect tits; some names and faces starting to run together the more Sana pops up at your place with a girl under one arm, usually looking half bored and half shy - or at least putting up some pretense that might justify Sana telling them to strip down while she's already eyeing you with this look like she's wondering which article of clothing you'll be ripping off her first.

"Does she have a name?" you ask, with a nod vaguely in her direction. Of course it's a loaded question. What's her name doesn't matter. You don't know most of their names.

But when you do a double-take, remembering to steal a good look, you're not sure you've ever seen anyone pull off that perfect little white dress quite the way she does - the kind that goes right up the back, tucked under the neck, sleeves coming to a neat point across her fingers. Sana may or may not have a thing for pretty girls in cute dresses, but this is, without question, the most obvious bribe you've ever witnessed in your life.

Sana's still smirking - so much for being considerate, you think for a second, until you’ve got a dainty hand stretched into yours like you’re brushing up with royalty. And well, maybe you’re getting a better look now that she isn’t bathed in the calm, assured wickedness that two A.M. might only ever know - the dark curling like wind around her fingers and down the lines of her spine, cajoling.

She is gorgeous.

And she says - 

“Chou Tzuyu,” in this charming little voice that’s even more mesmerizing than you anticipated, this taut thread winding itself up between the two of you. She says her name with a gentle sigh, a light in her eyes that you know, intimately, not to trust, but you get the sense that she'd rather you make an exception for her - or at least for the night. “Everyone calls me Tzuyu.”

You feel a squeeze at your fingers, an anxious reminder from Sana's thumb, as if she feels the reverie in which you've lapsed. It draws you back, just slightly so.

"Tzuyu," you say, taking mental note of the faint smile that shadows in at the corner of her mouth when you do. "How much do you know?"

She twists in Sana's direction, and oh, look how eager and innocent and coquettish Tzuyu's making herself in front of her, smiling. What do I say, the gesture is asking. You can see her effort to hold back a giggle or two as she bites her lip, trying, as all the pretty girls who come through these doors often try, to come up with something cute and modest and small that'll allow you and Sana to picture exactly the right thing. You can tell when a person is not used to having an audience.

"I know Sana..." Tzuyu's voice trails as she gives Sana a furtive glance. "She talks about you a lot. And I figured, you know."

"What? That we were good friends?"

"Sure," Tzuyu laughs to herself lightly again. "Whatever makes it easier."

Sana has her fingers threaded beneath Tzuyu’s chin, studying her like she’s an artifact that belongs behind glass. Expensive. One of a kind. And oh-so-excessively fragile.

The way Sana touches her, she may be trying to prove the point, guiding her body's angles and edges towards whatever form she sees fit, with just fingertips and the slightest tug, showing you exactly how malleable the girl can be. The look on Tzuyu's face is hardly discomfited when her dress slides past the dips of her shoulders or the slope of her waist, when the fabric gets crumpled in Sana's hand like the most expensive balled-up tissues in the universe. You can't decide what animal comes to mind: perhaps a deer, some cute, unknowingly doomed elk.

"No underwear," you note, watching.

Sana draws herself a little closer to Tzuyu with an appreciative gaze, lips gently landing at her shoulders, neck.

"Why bother?" Tzuyu muses. "What were we going to use them for?"

A pull here, a tug there, and the dress puddles around Tzuyu's feet, silk shimmering like the inky dark of a starless sky. And just shy of a pedestal and perhaps a fucking moonbeam, she's the spitting image of perfection: porcelain skin stretching out over a masterwork of curves and bone and muscle. A sculpture, a study in the form that so frequently leaves people just absolutely dumbstruck and thirsty in their wake.

Sana trails her hand around the width of her hip - drawing your eye along the skin of her leg, up and around the perfectly curved thigh - stopping to splay her fingers just so at the base of her spine, as if in demonstration of ownership. Like this: mine.

"Don't get it confused," Sana tells you. "The whole naive innocence thing is a total fucking misdirection."

"Tzuyu," you say again, this time noticing the way it feels in your mouth, syllables sweet and sticking to its roof like honey - maybe something more of an excuse to move forward and touch her yourself, palm her face, brush your thumb over her bottom lip. A taste, something subtle but intense, spreads to the back of your throat, the moment her teeth graze gently over its pad. "Is that true?"

"Are you asking me what kind of girl I am?"

"I didn't put it exactly like that."

"Just answer, sweetheart," Sana says, brow quirked in a faux-display of nonchalance, fingers still pressed, spreading gently at her neck. She's enjoying this a little too much. Though, you're enjoying this too. It doesn't have to be an either-or kind of scenario.

"It's better if you say it," she adds after a second of consideration, and even though it's obvious by now she's only prodding and that this is a foregone conclusion, Tzuyu puts an emphatic twitch in her lips - red, wet, a vision in crimson - like the thought is deeply troubling and will likely require lots and lots of thorough explanation later.

"Fine, okay, in that case," Tzuyu starts with a weary sigh, and then with a blink-and-you've-missed-it flash of a smirk, there's no way anyone's buying any of this, "I’ll say: I'm whatever kind of girl you want me to be."

Sana was right, and she didn’t even need to go so far as to say it. It’s clear - you want her.

But it's half as easy to pinpoint where it all starts: there's the way Tzuyu melts, sinking just that much further when you guide your hands around the curve of her ribs, fingers following the flow of her soft edges, the slopes and valleys of her breasts, and she parts her lips even before yours touch the seam of her mouth, her breath warm, heavy, the kind of anticipation that sends jolts down her neck, her spine, the body electric - a real live wire.

Or, it's because of the way she likes it - like, really likes it. There's something exceptional in a girl who will wrap her legs around your waist and suck your tongue and whimper just by a feather's touch around her hips or between her thighs, where it's damp and hot and holy shit, this is unreal in a very tactile, visceral way. There's no mistaking the noise for anything but genuine pleasure when Tzuyu's trying, unsuccessfully, to bite down the whine sneaking up her throat and into your mouth - where you're kissing her, still - the kind that presses heavy at the bottom of your stomach.

Or, there's Sana yet, pulling her clothes off, and instead of leaving a trail in her wake, folds each piece neatly until she's bared down to this fine little number of lace and cream-colored silk that'd make your head spin if you weren't, y'know, pretty busy, mouth occupied by Tzuyu's pliant moans, both of your tongues colliding.

"God," Tzuyu groans out quietly as you pin her to the wall, and again after another string of kisses, sucking your lip. 

There are fleeting moments that slip through like sunlight that have you thinking: Right, this was a good idea, nothing other than a sweet girl like this all messed up and squirming with the shallow dig of your nails. But only close to perfect.

Sana will explain it.

"Mm. Not god." Sana is grinning when she leans up for the same kiss, but she takes her time with it: mouth slotted tight against Tzuyu's as her long fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of Tzuyu's neck, working her grip up slowly so that the strain gets more noticeable until the girl is a gasp on a choke of breath. The curve of her back is drawn out by that same hand and her ribs pressed, pert and rosy, into the cool air.

"Sir, and please," Sana then instructs, voice just harsh enough for Tzuyu to understand. 

You might imagine she's also drawing in with her nails, teeth, a full-body drag up her exposed front, like some kind of prize, marking and tasting and fucking every inch. There's a whimper, desperate sound of, yes, right, fuck, please, and sir slipping like a sigh off the edge of Tzuyu's tongue. 

"Or better yet," Sana adds, with another searing press into the junction of her collarbone, "say daddy, please," then follows through on the plea with another slow-pull.

You try not to roll your eyes. It's Sana's kink, not yours. It's a whole thing. And with Sana, like most things, you find it best when you simply play along.

More than that, you indulge her. You both do.

"Okay, daddy." Tzuyu's teeth catch the corner of her mouth in a self-amused bite. Twisting and twisting the swell of her lip further until it snaps forward. "I want you to tell me something," she says, which, for the way this typically goes, is a little more self-assured and pressing than the usual fare. Even Mina, who was perhaps less than enthusiastic about the - uh - title in question, came around eventually when she had Sana's fingers, your cock, all sunk so deep inside her she forgot what any fucking words were anyway.

So maybe Sana does know what she's doing with this one. Maybe you oughta thank her.

Tzuyu just lifts her chin, says, "this isn't what I expected when I showed up here."

"Obviously, it's not," Sana says.

"What I mean is, this is all good fun, of course," Tzuyu explains. A charming indignance that slips past, like the fingers down her belly. She swallows hard, muscles clenching as your palm runs slow over a hip, squeezing. "Though I guessed when we left Sana's, I would've been bouncing on his cock five minutes ago."

Sana's lithe little frame ends up closer - nearly naked in lace and wholly difficult to miss. She's a half head shorter than the girl in front of you, but with a tilt of her chin and a beckon of her hand, it's a powerful look about the lines of her face: eyes slightly hooded, mouth curved and devastating. It's as if, at every hour of the night, the simplest glance will have the fabric of someone's clothing coming undone, regardless.

Tzuyu is just slowly trading looks between the two of you. So curious. "So what then, do I have to do," her words curl like smoke up her throat, "to get fucked by both of you, hm? In, like, the next five or ten more minutes, preferably."

"He's not going to fuck your brains out simply because you ask." Which by the way, is the first real lie Sana tells tonight.

Tzuyu is unimpressed, or maybe she's a stoic. "Clearly," she deadpans.

Whatever the expression is that is fluttering those gorgeous lashes, eyebrows pulled down, adds a faint mark of distrust across her brow. The prettiest scoffs you've ever heard. "Isn't the point to get me spread out on your sheets so you can use me like a little fucktoy?"

A sigh from Sana: heavy, calculated. She does not reply in any obvious way to that, no flimsy assurances that it would be whatever the hell Tzuyu likes (though you think maybe Sana might want to take this whole fucking opportunity, all this thinly veiled begging for it, for the first taste of what will probably be the main thing that'll hold her over the edge of an orgasm or two). 

So, instinctually, Tzuyu pushes it, just enough - she tilts her head, and the motion is followed by a wide sashay of her hips as she gently presses a fingertip to your chest, encouraging a step back to better your balance, like the pull between you has a little more gravity.

"Don't go quiet on me." Another sultry note pulls from her mouth when she guides you another foot - or however many, until the foyer opens up into your living room. The chair, the sofa, a table, you watch her eyes wander like she's mapping the territory. And then finally she drops her hands from your shoulders, reaching instead for Sana, taking her waist in her palms.

Holding her. Kissing her.

There's a delicateness about both of them, clearly, and not only how Tzuyu angles their lips, as if she doesn't fully intend for the two to merge but instead taste the line, test the edges, or something; but Sana doesn't fight this. In fact, when Sana's being drawn gently, but confidently into a deeper, harder press, a very eager give, her eyes slip closed. There's a war, and Sana - though she'd be the last to admit it - is losing.

Tzuyu, at the end of a particularly sharp draw of air, simply turns to you, eyes peeking over the tousle of copper hair atop Sana’s head, and asks: "How does daddy want to play with his toys?"

It clicks in your head immediately: she's a natural, could be an actress, maybe a pro - you have no idea where Sana found her - even if that doesn't exactly match with the diction; daddy, and sir, and the baby-girl pout. There are the things she does to Sana, this slipstream of control passed back and forth and back and forth again - a fevered tugging, the give of one or the other. An entirely different dance. Beautiful, fluid, intense.

Eventually, it lands in your lap. Literally and metaphorically. Tzuyu looks up from where she's kneeling between your legs and with a little pinch of your hips, tells you with that intoxicately sweet, melodic voice of hers, that you seem like the sort who wants someone who just takes initiative.

And she's right.

"May I?" she asks, breathlessly, fingers at the zip.

"Of course,” Sana answers for you, settling into her side like you both belong to her. Like she’s about to enjoy this just as much as you are.

What does the room sound like, the darkness giving away? Everything. The hum of the appliances, the purr of the heat, something in the walls is settling into its final position for the night as the floorboards sigh. Breathing. Listening.

What you don't hear:

Chou Tzuyu moving - whether she shifts onto her knees, or adjusts how her slender fingers fall from the waist of your pants, doesn't matter - no crunch, no shuffle. She doesn't swipe away the hair from her eyes or drag the pad of a thumb over her swollen, bottom lip. All she does is pull, just a bit, and the zipper breaks the silence, comes apart down the way.

Sana clears her throat gently, hoping, possibly, that Tzuyu might be the kind of girl who just loses herself to the moment, caught in the headlights. The way every delicate, doe-eyed girl is supposed to do. Sana likes them a little helpless like that - makes her feel big.

It's too bad really, because Tzuyu doesn’t appear like she's awash with anything in particular. Or at the very least, she's done a fairly convincing imitation of not being the slightest bit off-put, completely disarmed or whatever Sana had been looking to see.

She does look up though. Long, pretty face still managing a bit of devastation from this angle. Those full lips slightly pouted and slick in red: such an inviting color against her pale skin.

"Sana," she coos, eyes wide and brilliant - innocent, yet taunting all at once - and she's deliberate in what she says next, flitting her tongue across her canines to punctuate every sound: "Isn’t daddy going to use me now?"

"Oh." Sana leans in, eyes flicking up at you, Tzuyu's hands, her body, and starts slowly, like she's exacting a punishment, "Tzuyu, baby," her own anticipation beaming off the surface of her thousand-kilowatt grin, "you're going to take that perfect cock," the words dripping off Sana's tongue, heavy, sweet, "you're going to take it, get your pretty little lips all over it sweetie, you're going to show him just how good you can use that filthy fucking hole of a mouth for him. You're going to take him until he cums in your throat, and then you're going to beg him for more. And if you can do that, well. Then we’ll fuck you exactly how you wanted."

Tzuyu blinks - doting and innocent like the angel everyone probably thinks she is.

But then what you've learned about the angels that Sana brings you: they're devils in disguise, well familiar with the sin and lust that resides in these places; sunk into the cushions of the couch, pressed against the cold pane glass of a window, wound tight in the springs of a mattress. You had long thought - and think, you do, particularly when doing the unthinkable - it's easier that way, to leave aside thoughts of right and wrong and ask: Just how far can an angel fall?

"Ah. Perfect," Tzuyu says, sounding like an answer, and her eyes widen as she peels past that band of elastic.

Your cock springs forward and bumps into the pad of her finger, which traces the length of it like it's hers to own, to pleasure.

"God," she hums with satisfaction, and even without looking up, or even before you say a damn word, she draws her tongue up along the underside in one swift, wet lick. "Sana you weren’t exaggerating: daddy's cock is fucking gorgeous."

There is that tiny whine, or more precisely a tiny, oh fuck when Tzuyu curls her hand around your shaft. Sana gives her a push. "Say it, Tzuyu," she all but growls at her.

"Daddy," she says, always pausing on the word. Testing it further. "Please."

"Please," Sana mimics in faux-sweetness, repeating it again once you start to nod.

Not that it changes much - the stare that Tzuyu fixes you is charmingly determined, like a challenge. Then, she inhales.

Deep.

That slide into her mouth is smoother than anything, hot and slippery and oh, right - you remember faintly with a shudder: those pretty teeth hidden away behind a perfectly lascivious mouth, so much that a couple sharp, expert brushes are enough to send lightning dancing along your spine. Sana moves her hands across your hips, to the buttons on your night shirt, working her way up until the fabric has fallen to the side and she can open your chest up to the air, let Tzuyu swallow the rest.

This, Tzuyu likes. "Ah," she gasps around you, or she tries to, your cock propped up on her soft little tongue.

She likes the way that feels. The way you fit in her hands, her mouth. And it shows. Her posture curls deliciously, under the satisfaction of her lips wrapping finally having something to wrap around tight, tight, tighter - under Sana's roaming touches, the skirting of her nails down Tzuyu's chest, reaching with slow deliberation across her stomach until there's a whisper of skin across sensitive flesh.

“She’s so fucking wet,” Sana tells you, smiling at Tzuyu from above and fitting a fingernail between her teeth. "Good fucking girl, aren't you Tzuyu?"

The moan that leaks out around the weight of your cock is pure. Pure lust, pure pleasure. Pure perfection. Her tongue flattens beneath you and finds you surging even deeper, a firmer slide of Tzuyu's wet lips that brings you right into the roof of her mouth - as she twists her face around you, a soft scrape against the inside of her cheek.

You sigh.

And Sana sighs back.

"Of course. Always such a hidden talent," she notes, as Tzuyu's perfect mouth moves and plucks and teases your nerves, twirling her tongue around your tip. Again as she swallows you down, slow, savoring.

“Tell me,” you say, because the heat of Tzuyu’s mouth is starting to remind you of a daydream, “how exactly do you know each other?”

"Work," Sana answers, flatly.

"Like-"

"Yup."

"She sings?"

"She does - rather, she will." Sana glances sidelong with a bit of a grin. "You have no idea what that tongue can do to people when it's got some good backing tracks, when it knows a goddamn fucking thing about rhythm. Speaking of," Sana looks down at where Tzuyu has her silky brown head of hair bobbing between your legs.

And then it's clear what she means, Tzuyu humming and rolling your shaft through the flat of her tongue. It's all slick, soaking heat and the tension building and building in your balls, aching, just absolutely desperate for more friction, to be taken and used and stuffed in her throat - or just more of this.

"Here," Sana's fingers are hooked in your pants, helping them off your legs, your ankles, pulling you further to the edge of the sofa. Let me, she's telling Tzuyu, this slight murmur of want she just can't wait on.

"Wait, I'm -" Tzuyu attempts, pulling her lips off the curve of your cock, to where pre-cum is weeping out of its tip, and she kisses it so very tenderly, going back for round two. Round three. She floats her fingers up over her eyebrows, into her fringe, all to tuck some dark, wispy hair gently behind her ear when she starts to hollow her cheeks and again suck your cock in earnest.

Until -

"Tzuyu," Sana reprimands her, "don't play, daddy's got his work cut out for him tonight. So be a good girl, and let me show you what he likes."

It takes a second, maybe three. It might take longer if Sana didn't have her fingernails digging into her thighs, sliding further to grab hold of Tzuyu by the hair and pull her lips off your shaft. There's a thin trail of spit coming off her mouth and stringing across you. Sana closes her fist in the back of Tzuyu’s hair and doesn't so much as blink while studying the look on her face: lips glistening, just absolutely needy, like she can't help the whimper in her throat.

"Hm?" Sana cocks her head to the side.

"But... sir."

"You are his toy," Sana explains, flashing her eyebrows because apparently it needs to be said, "not the other way around."

And it may be the first time you've seen it happen since Sana walked in with Tzuyu and declared her intentions: the fluster, the pink spread across Tzuyu's features like some scarlet-lettered stain. Defenses dropped like a draw-bridge. She's not quite every bit as cool and composed as she wants the two of you to think she is. (They never are.)

But the fact that Tzuyu's coy little smile returns into her lips - how she's wiping the spit off her mouth with the sharp edge of her hand and pointing your cock in Sana's direction with a delicate, arched brow, how she then moves on, untangling herself from Sana's grasp, eyes heavy, but on her - is a marvel in and of itself.

It’s an amusing surprise, a welcome one, for the simple reason that Tzuyu keeps showing both of you that she can have anything she wants exactly like this: wrapped around a slender fingertip, flushed and helpless, and without breaking a sweat. 

"Have you considered daddy wants both our mouths on his cock and maybe a few less words?" Tzuyu scoffs. And even though Sana does scoff right back in retort, that's exactly how it plays out.

(And you may, upon occasion, reflect: you're a real lucky bastard.)

Sana always puts on this act. One that you’ve learned to see right through. 

Like she isn't too eager to follow the momentum, that she hadn't just been just as impatient to touch you - to be on her knees with Tzuyu, all aside this beautiful girl who gives you a pretty smile when her tongue finds the base of your cock. Who likes being bossed around but can just as easily turn her face towards yours - in what seems almost like a taunt - as if saying: You know what else I like? to be challenged, and sometimes when the mood’s right, pushed and punished. 

But Sana doesn't let you see what kind of resolve she has until she's gone another minute, licking, lapping her tongue around your cock - this is her idea, after all. The little white dress in a heap, the adoration and worship that comes with fucking girls she knows are the prettiest things to see ruined.

Listen - even if Sana’s veneer is as blatantly obvious as it is shatterably thin, she’s no less dangerous. 

When she first pushes the very head of your cock inside her mouth, and just that - because why rush it, she's so fucking perfect with those pretty lips - the rest of your brain is shouting something to the tune of fuck me sideways because she knows you better than anyone, knows what really gets your blood burning. 

A few slow brushes, one kiss, this lick that goes bottom to top and over and around. It’s like she's testing the surface, dragging her lips across your aching cock as she settles on a rhythm, a tempo that starts to mirror the movements of Tzuyu's hand.

Tzuyu lets you see: this slow twist, this slide of skin up and down the length of your shaft, her soft fingers rubbing tight circles up and down the path of her palm until it meets Sana’s mouth. And like it’s the most simple thing in the world, she dips down, finds a place at the base of your cock, where Sana’s lips can’t quite reach, and drops a hot, messy kiss right across the spot.

Fuck.

She kisses you everywhere.

"Sana," you start to say, and she looks up through the strands of blonde fallen slightly in front of her face. Her lips sink further down the length of your cock - until she hears your breath catch in the bottom of your throat. Until she’s pulling you up and out, again, just barely past her teeth.

Fuck.

"Mm." She hums it right into your skin, and her eyes are hooded, dipping right down with another pull of spit, and then another, before her lips are at the tip once more, flicking across the slit with her tongue - wet and rough.

"Sana," you try again, biting into your lip as you reach a hand into the gold locks of hair framing her deceptive, pretty little face, and tug, a warning, a reminder. You need. It's too early for you to be repeating yourself, and Sana knows that.

A pop, the release of her mouth slipping off the top of your cock, and Tzuyu moves - wrapping her lips tight and silken around the sides, the rest. It all happens in an instant. You're being taken with the sudden, harsh suction of one mouth, the other, fluid and slipping back and forth again and again.

Sana's nodding along, impressed, as she watches Tzuyu take you - completely, nose to your hip - and has a glint of pure hunger shining through her eyes when you hiss, when she kisses along the lines of Tzuyu's stretched lips. There's another flick of a tongue, and you can feel Tzuyu moan something muffled and choked, a frantic pulse at the base of your spine - pressure gathering like a fucking flood.

"Just how you like it, hmm?" Sana says, her breath warm on your balls as she seals her own mouth right over the base of your shaft. And you swear there's something about this: the drag and suck of both their lips as your hips stutter forward, the feeling of them pressed together in a perfect line, heads tilted and mouths fucking dripping with saliva and sin - your hands, resting on the backs of their heads as they're returning you these greedy little moans that vibrate off the top of your cock and nearly kill you in the process.

“Tell me,” Sana adds, dragging a hot, hazy kiss over the sensitive skin up your shaft. "How's daddy feeling? Hmm? Feels nice and perfect, doesn't it. Feels like you could just let go and release, a hot, sticky load of cum, right down her fucking throat. I know she’ll swallow every drop."

"Fucking hell, Sana-"

Sana doesn't exactly answer to your begging, only hikes Tzuyu a fraction higher over your body to gain better control of the rhythm, and a better view: the hollowed out cheeks, her watery, half-shut eyes, tears welling in her lashes - because the prettiest girls always come apart in the most perfect ways.

You grip into all that silky brown hair, thumb running gently up and over the soft skin behind her ear as she finds an exacting little movement with her lips that will have your spine twitching uncontrollably as you fuck deeper down the perfect arch of her throat, Sana keeping rhythm, guiding you all the way in - a searing heat, and then a new rush of saliva dripping off Tzuyu's chin and back down into the tangle of tongues, fingers, throats, mouths.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The pair of them. The things they're doing.

"Or maybe," Sana muses, tilting her head on an angle that suggests she's weighing her options, and then, massaging a quick, firm twist into the very base of your cock she finally lets spill: "You could make a mess of that perfect face," Tzuyu's faint whimper hardly slips out unnoticed, "I'd hold her hair for you while you cum all over her - how about that baby, should we make a big mess of your pretty face?"

The whimper grows louder - Tzuyu moans long and low, right up against the tightening tension gathering between your hips, right as your balls pull, that familiar coil about to break - and, god, if there's some part of you committed to holding the moment, waiting and wanting to stay in the vision of these two perfect mouths pressed together, it's a fleeting and useless notion - but, as usual, Sana already knows.

The way they're blowing you in perfect tandem, their mouths locked together, kissing around your shaft as they continue to pleasure you, filthy and open - a little more, the thought percolates, a little longer, to let the pressure swell.

"Sir," Tzuyu says, swallowing her next breath, and that's the first you've heard her sound like that: whining, pleading.

She slaps your cock against her lips, her tongue - it's all so wet with spit and precum and slick that her chin is coated, her fingers. A demonstration of what you should have already known: Sana's girls aren't just straight down the line. They want the messy, roughness that comes with the sin; the split in the seam, the wail, the raw, uncut want.

You watch Tzuyu’s lips curl, this quiet smile pressed against your cock, and after a slow draw of air, they fall open again. Asking, "aren't you going to fuck your toy's slutty little mouth?"

The silence of the night swallows up the sounds of Sana's low chuckle and the responding squelch of her fingers tearing free, her hand trailing after. Here’s three bodies in the otherwise ordinary emptiness of your living room, on the edges of the leather sofa, so completely drenched in anticipation and hunger.

There’s a flash across Sana's rounded cheeks, hot, like she's just this small space shy of smirking, or giving into something, you don't know. Tzuyu, however, you've got a fairly clear view of - how her eyes glaze, pupils going wide and dark, staring up at you as she places the shape of your cock so acutely up the length of her perfect features: chin supporting its base, the cute, button-like tip of her nose teasing the soft underbelly of skin pulled taut - a fucked up preamble to whatever the hell it is going to feel like, once she's ready for more.

"Say please, sweetie," Sana says, fluttering her fingers over Tzuyu's neck. And then to you, as an aside: "If there isn't a better way to break in a toy."

When Tzuyu doesn't immediately reply, Sana leans over her, with a fingertip under her chin, guiding her hot, wet lips to the edge of your cock.

"Ask daddy to fuck his filthy little whore."

"Ah," Tzuyu lets out an awkward exhale. "Daddy?" she pauses to swallow, licking her lips, then, with just the slightest inflection, this tight line, right at the border, somehow managing to hit both notes of I'm going to make you beg for it and is it okay for me to be begging you for more: "Please, daddy. Fuck my face."

But then the way she fucking looks - petulant, needy, like if you don't shove your cock down her throat in seconds it could kill her - that's the realest thing you've seen from her since she shuffled through your front door wearing a dress that belongs in someone's heaving, pent up fantasy and left it in a careless pile in the middle of your foyer, tits bouncing on her way into the living room. And somehow, that's a lot to take in: to think this whole debacle has led up to her, this girl you're probably never gonna see again, pressing the pucker of her perfect, pretty lips to the underside of your cock, and -

"Open," Sana cuts in, "your fucking mouth."

Tzuyu gulps thickly and stretches her jaw, blinking expectantly as her pink, slender tongue sticks out the faintest, most insinuating inch.

You lift your hips with one good thrust, the plushness of her mouth becoming soft and velvet as she opens wider, and wider still, and you're balls deep, hilt hitting her lips as she opens her eyes, taking you down her throat, slick and slow.

"Good girl," Sana grins, watching Tzuyu swallow around you. 

You may be buried into her throat but the sound of Sana's encouragement has Tzuyu keening, this wrench in her brow like she wants to focus so fucking badly. Only made worse when Sana bundles a handful of Tzuyu's long, glossy hair into a fist and gets her voice into the shell of her ear. 

"I know you love it, Tzuyu, how he's fucking taking you, huh? That's it. Show daddy how good of a toy you can be."

And oh, the reaction - the very clear one, no less. Tzuyu grips onto the cushion of the couch, a full set of fingers curling around Sana's forearm, any part of you - the one closest and she's digging her sharp nails into your skin and whimpering for Sana to keep talking like her life depends on it.

"Let me see if you can be as good as you think you are," Sana murmurs, and you shift forward again, bucking your hips just barely but getting there, and then there's more, fuck - getting closer to a good steady pace. Slow, forceful. Hitting the very back of her throat, the bottom of her lips.

Tzuyu can only respond by taking you impossibly deep.

"Remember what you told me?" Sana's biting her lip, finding as much satisfaction out of the mere display.

"Mnnph," Tzuyu chokes out before slipping off your cock, only long enough to gasp for another breath, "I said, I said - all the things I would let him do to me." Her voice sounds so wrecked. Broken. Desperate. Filthy, the kind that needs to be fucked. "Please, please," she says again.

"Tzuyu." Sana's fist tightens in Tzuyu's hair, and down Tzuyu goes. "You sounded so sure, baby - when you said you'd making him fucking cum so easy, how you'd make him bust over and over with this mouth, so -"

You're getting too close. It's really not your fault, it's the two of them. Every wince on your face a result of Tzuyu's swollen, shiny lips wrapped tightly around your cock, cheeks flush and hollow with every move of her mouth. She keeps doing this little flick of her tongue as her lips slide around you - even while Sana lifts her jaw up, down, up down, fucking her mouth onto your aching cock with a sort of callous disregard for how it's fucking her up - how it's fucking you up.

"-the prettiest girls make the best fucking cumrags, you know. Really - makes your toes curl," Sana finishes, giving one particularly pointed tilt of her head at the sight of how bad your knees are shaking.

And then, out the corner of her mouth, teeth locked over her lip, because you're so caught up in how good it feels fucking your length through the vice of Tzuyu's mouth, sliding across her wet tongue - "she's not lying baby, is she? Fuck, I bet she feels so fucking good on you doesn't she" - her voice hoarse and desperate, a hint of something caught at the back of her throat like she can almost taste what it's like. What it must feel like.

Sana pushes, and even she can probably feel you pulsing at the way Tzuyu chokes when the tip meets the drain of her throat.

It gets... it ends up too much, too fast. Borderline abusive - and not just the speed, or the sheer roughness - Nayeon was here on her knees, like this, in the middle of the night not too long ago, and deepthroating you is far from the unusual or accomplished, at this point. But, fuck if that isn't something you build up to.

The slight curve of Tzuyu's arms, rising as they tremble with the effort, the little tears that slip down her cheeks, and those lovely sounds she makes. It's not at all intentional - and you're so stupidly certain Sana didn't think you'd be this riled so quickly, like there's not an ounce of willpower in the world that could save you at this point.

And while that's not too surprising on its own - Sana knows you well, this is what she agreed to - Tzuyu must have understood (it was part of the plan, in fact) what she was walking into, what she was signing up for. But fuck it: she was still pretty new, an amateur. And an amateur just wouldn't be capable of doing the things she does, and looking the way she looks, not to the same extent as this.

"Can you cum from nothing but the feeling of daddy's dick hitting your throat? I'll have him sit back and relax while we work," Sana tells her.

It'd make two of you.

"Would you like that?" she's asking you, tilting her head when you've gathered yourself long enough. "No touching, just take my orders while we pleasure you. How does that sound, daddy?"

"Sana, easy," you practically growl, biting down on the inside of your cheek because the twitch in Tzuyu's pulse has you coming far too undone, her chest hitching and lungs heaving and face wet with spit and tears and cum as it's spilling down her chin. You're seconds from telling Sana to dial it back when a low, guttural sound, sputtering, leaves Tzuyu's throat.

The grip in Tzuyu's hair goes loose enough that she pulls herself up, swallowing up as much air as she can. 

And fuck, look at the damage: that swollen mess of her red, glistening mouth; the dark runs of mascara and drying tracks that make a ruin of her face, her neck; a heart-stopping shine of white drool. She blinks the tears off her lashes in a moment.

Sana’s eyeing her over the same way a surgeon might approach a task with a scalpel and a careful hand, or perhaps a fisherman surveying the quality of a catch - before tossing it to the back of a truck to be hauled back home. Like the kind of sight she gets just a little too much satisfaction at. And it's the eyebrow she shoots up into her mess of toffee-blonde hair that asks, quietly, too much?

Fuck. Maybe.

But Tzuyu's eyes shift toward Sana's, and without even an ounce of hesitation - without anything more than a heavy exhale - she opens her mouth again so you can see her tongue run across her top teeth, incensed in her lust. More, fuck me, have me, use me she's saying, telling with you the slight indignance in her eyes that Sana finds perfectly irresistible.

Then, as if unbothered by how far your cock had been slotted in her throat, she swallows. Says, "is that all, sir?"

And the sound that follows it, that shuddering sigh - breaking, cracking, shattering into the calm quiet of your apartment - Tzuyu takes you like it's more than enough. She's swallowing it all back down again.

“Fuck, Tzuyu, you’re-” you try, only to have her moan loud, so loud, when she drags her tongue down your cock and swallows around the whole thing in a way that has you gasping. Your hands end up wound tightly in her hair, weaving through the smooth waves, knuckles straining when it really sinks in. Just how deep down her throat you go, so perfectly deep, the stretch of her lips holding on the side of a grimace because she needs it that way. She can't have it any other.

"Go on," Sana murmurs into the side of your face, drawing closer so she's got her nails curled down into your thighs, leaning in to place a wet, hot kiss into your cheek. "C'mon baby, she'd told me she'd let you do anything - said she'd swallow everything, like the fucking cockslut she is."

Sana's chin digs against the bone in your shoulder, eyes unwavering on where you disappear over and over inside Tzuyu's throat. And it's not just that - Tzuyu's hair clenched tight in Sana’s one hand, the other curled hard into a fist around the base of your cock, her harsh breaths washing over the bare skin of your neck. It's fucking indecent, how needy she's gotten. How needy she always gets. You can feel her greedy little lips finding your ear and biting just shy of savage enough to break skin, and licking - flicking across the vein beating down in your throat, and then -

"That's right," Sana says with a low growl when you look at her. "Cum."

An impoverished sound rips right through your chest. Spreads through you like wildfire.

And just like that, you're spilling inside her, thrusts growing unsteady and lost in the wet, searing heat of Tzuyu's perfect, wet lips, slapping and sliding into her throat, spilling on her tongue with every surge of pleasure drumming in your blood.

Tzuyu sinks down further. So deep that the brush of the back of her throat feels like a hand on the hilt of a knife, tearing into the ends of your nerves, where they’ve come alight and been set ablaze.

Sana picks up again whispering into the cuff of your ear. It makes your head feel like it might explode. And you're almost entirely certain that's what will actually happen, when the combined pressure between your ears and that of your cock becoming so desperately spent builds and builds and doesn't stop, as though waiting. 

Biding time for some perfect snap.

Only, a tickle at the back of Tzuyu's throat has her choking out. The same uncontrolled way your hips start to falter - shaky, jerky motions instead of any precision or rhythm - and you're tilting and winding your head in circles, jaw tensed, squeezing her scalp and oh, oh fuck. Tzuyu's mouth slides itself all the way off you in one hurried gasp, then two and three, just barely giving her a chance to steady herself, all while you're still leaking thick, white cum all over the slick swell of her bottom lip, up over the ridges of her elegant features, the curves of her cheeks, the high arches of her brows.

Look - you're cumming all over Tzuyu's face. You’re cumming all over her pretty face and she just takes it.

She's, fuck - she's so, so good. And not just because her mouth is fucking perfection, or her eyes are all at once bleary but wide open, watching you twitch, her own cheeks flushing as she stares up at you - trying desperately to breathe, taking a quick lick off the end of your cock, flitting her tongue between her knuckles, because apparently another taste can't hurt.

"Ugh," Sana hushes, right into your neck, "would you just fucking look, see that - god, Tzuyu, how does it feel, does he taste as good as you hoped he would?"

There's a subtle, unmistakable bob in Tzuyu's throat as she's swallowing everything down, the evidence, and a small flash of her tongue. "Good, mmn-" and you can see how she struggles in her restraint to simply say so, to let her hand drift to the 'V' between her thighs and sate that ache.

But even if her body seems ready for more, Sana's finger finds its way underneath Tzuyu's chin to prompt, with one, simple command, "let's get you cleaned up before we give you what you came for. Go on, get our little girl up to the shower, won't you daddy?"

-

It's a minor miracle the three of you make it upstairs and down the hall without so much as a trip or stumble, the girls with their fingers woven together and hips swaying as you all stagger up. It's a minor miracle you don't pin either of them against drywall or up against a doorway or do any of the number of filthy things on the mind of a man just fucked, still coming down, with two gorgeous, perfect faces - two perfectly sculpted asses - all in arms' reach.

The bath mat is still bunched at the back of your bathroom door. Still damp from the last shower - Sana's last morning here - which you have to pry apart just a little so the two of them can file in.

And well - it does happen. Eventually.

At the sink.

Just inside the en suite of your bedroom.

With Sana, being the way she is.

While the faucet in the shower starts up a shallow stream of water - tap running warm, steaming the length of the mirror and condensing the glass that Sana will soon have Tzuyu's face up against if she has any say in the matter.

"Tzu," Sana says, carding a hand through her hair and bringing a damp washcloth up to the bend of her jaw. There's a slow trace of fingertips across the lines of her neck. "Keep your eyes right on his while I clean you up, ok?"

And then there's the mirror in the center. The three of you arranged - a sort of hierarchy - with Sana stepping forward and adjusting her stance in order to survey, and clean the mess she's made. (What you've made.)

In profile, you can't exactly make out a distinct detail about Tzuyu's face in the reflective surface, only the silvery blur that is the curve of her neck, and the silhouette of the small frame that her long, slim legs form against the cabinet. But the idea's always the same - she's being used like a perfect canvas. Like an empty, ready-to-use doll that you can twist and turn in the ways you want until all your control breaks and you're just fucking into her, or having her lick and suck all over Sana's gorgeous fucking tits while she's bouncing in your lap.

Whichever happens to come first.

"You missed a spot," Tzuyu tells Sana, as though she hadn't missed several - her head tilts in your direction, eyes wide still, endless in depth. Her mouth gives away what's already burning its way through her blood. "Maybe another pair of hands will help?"

"Mine are a little rough around the edges," you explain, coming in close. The bathroom is this tight, congested space, but at the right angle there's plenty of room, even if your hips knock slightly into Sana's body. Tzuyu's delicate body already has her back flush against the sink basin. "You want to feel them?"

She shakes her head, and even though the hunger on her tongue hasn't been satisfied, even after having a good fill, there's something else she'd rather have now.

"I think," she starts, her words cut off by a hitch of breath when Sana's lips travel to the very tips of her hair and work their way up to the soft skin behind her ear. "Rough is good, when... when I'm being," Tzuyu's closing her eyes - partly so that she doesn't fall off the edge so easily, partly to lean into the sensations of two warm bodies, all attention placed solely on her.

"When you're being worked over?" Sana offers.

"Ngh," she responds - with an attempt, as best as she can, at a smile. And then there's one, light, teasing stroke across her jaw, her mouth. Sana's thumb pressed gently into the crease. "When the fucking gets..." and you'll have to fill the gap - finishing her thought with your hands slotting themselves onto the gentle arch of her hips, pressing a kiss that doesn't even come close to satisfaction on the supple dip of collarbone.

She lets out this pretty sound at the feel of your lips, Sana's, all ghosting down her throat.

"Hard and deep?" you say. Sana smirks at this - continues the effort, "A little fucking nasty, huh, sweetheart?"

"Mhm." Tzuyu is, above all else, a little helpless. “Because - you know me so well.”

But make no mistake: Tzuyu is exactly where she wants to be. With the heat radiating off her bare body, she leans into it all, only flinching when your teeth catch her nipple - when Sana's tongue laps a rough circle over the other. The scene, the feelings, all of it orchestrated precisely - these are the things she likes, maybe loves even.

And after the soft sounds slip through her lips, a moan and another hum, she finds her words and voice, "hard and deep and, rough and, ff-"

"And?"

The quick brush of your tongue flickers across the hard tip. The sensation draws from Tzuyu this very faint cry and the exhale of a word: "Fast."

"Naughty little thing," Sana presses into her jaw, pulling back to regard you both. To lift a finger, wet the pad with her tongue - and reach down, down, down until her fingertips brush the very line of her thigh, into the slick between her legs. "I love it when girls get all messy."

"Please," is all Tzuyu has to say, barely anything but, as Sana's finger drags slowly inside her folds.

"Patience baby," she murmurs into Tzuyu's open mouth. The exchange is swift but thorough; you watch, all tongue and spit, and your fingers twitch with a sense of loss. "Why don't you remind me how this went last time?"

"Mm, listen here," Tzuyu says in an astute breath, the sound of it like tables turning. There's a firm pull on your wrist - the grip on it guiding you, encouraging you, just where she wants them, into the band of lace around Sana's impossibly narrow waist. You feel Sana sigh in relief, shiver at the touch of a warm palm up against her thighs, and into a pulse-wet cunt, as though the slightest touch will kill her. "I think you might be remembering wrong, Sana."

"And why might that be?"

"Weren't you the one begging me? When I had two fingers up your cunt in your apartment," Tzuyu presses forward, voice lilt and darkening like ink, and Sana whines and crumbles in her palms, knees buckling when there's one sudden and rough slide of fingers right on the base of her spine.

"Yeah?" Sana asks with a rising blush, already knowing the answer - it's her fatal flaw: she's all sharp edges and pointed teeth, right up to the point there's a finger at her own throat, a cock in her hands and a girl working at her clit until she's drooling. "Are you suggesting I'm easy? Is that where you're heading with this?"

Tzuyu's leaned up against the counter, turning Sana's slender frame around in her hands, until she has her fingers up on the over the wire of Sana's bra, palms hot beneath the thin cups, feeling for her nipples, and the change in dynamic is as palpable as the steam rising in the room.

"Let’s not put words in my mouth," she responds simply, dropping another kiss into the back of Sana’s hair. There's another one laid along the sweep of her neck, like a careful bite, and with a lift of a brow, a look that tells you what you've always known, "but if you’re asking, then sure, the sluttiest of all sluts. Easy," she pulls the cups down Sana’s chest, "as fuck."

It gets to her, clearly, as if that moan falling out of Sana's parted lips could mean anything else.

"Daddy?" Tzuyu asks, because apparently she's enjoying the bit, easing into all parts of the character. She can't seem to contain her grin.

"What is it, sweetheart?" you ask, dipping your finger down into Sana's cunt, and fuck - the girl is so, so slick for it. She needs to be taken and torn, that much is clear. Her whimpers don't get softer as your hips drive into her stomach, pinning her between the two of you.

"Is she always this much of a bratty tease? Or is that just how she gets when she gets all worked up over your perfect cock. I know she's aching to feel it stretch out that tight little cunt of hers-

"It's never been all that clear," you answer, before Tzuyu can start to say anything further. A moment of composure, in case Sana wants you to step in.

Except that, she doesn't exactly interrupt the play you and Tzuyu are setting up: "So," Tzuyu remarks instead. "Just for me then."

"It's possible."

The room suddenly feels very full, very small.

"Right. Okay. Well then," you say - watching carefully, when Tzuyu gives you an appraising glance. Sana squirms again beneath the pressure of all these fingers printing over her sensitive skin - she'd love to fuck this. Or be fucked.

"That means you'll have to take good care of your needy little princess, won't you daddy?"

It's surprisingly fitting.

-

Though it hasn’t been that long, all things considered.

Not since Sana effortlessly waltzed her way into your life. And slightly less-than-that, the time it took her thereafter to find herself bouncing in your lap and tugging at your hair while you struggled for breath between her tits. This perfect storm, caught somewhere between laughing and choking and definitely, definitely falling.

It's been a year, maybe. If that. But that's plenty to know.

Know every tilt of her mouth, every sly grin. The different moans that shake loose from the curve of her lips.

Know what it means when Sana's palms hit the tiles of the shower wall, fingers splaying as she goes quiet and submissive, letting out the barest noise of frustration as Tzuyu spreads her tongue over the pucker of her ass - know that the knuckle you curl up in her cunt has her that much closer to unraveling in a stream of whimpers, needy fucking pants and a hoarse sound of gratitude.

Ostensibly for getting her so perfectly, perfectly raw.

"Fuck, yes, that," Sana barely manages, between the messy swipe Tzuyu's tongue makes over her hole. Just this thorough lick, drawing tight, swirling circles around her, lapping at the wetness before making a hot and steady pass over the sensitive stretch of skin, drenching it in spit until Sana's scrambling against the hard surface.

She's not close to going quiet: her cheeks look rounder, like she can hardly keep her noises under control as Tzuyu eases a single fingertip inside the tense muscle of her rim and uses the stretch and warmth of the water raining down her spine, to slip in deeper. Sana's sighing as Tzuyu eats her like an act, an invitation.

You push your fingers deep, deeper, slick, pulling, rubbing, coaxing Sana's mouth apart even as your lips press wet into her cheek. She groans louder, needier, with your hand flexing up a three-finger graze over that bundle of nerves. The kind that makes her back fucking arch.

"You," Sana sputters open like a struck match, burning bright in the steam-cloaked shower, "you, you, you," and it’s not really clear who she’s cursing, "going to - you're going to - you're going to make me-"

"Oh no," Tzuyu sings, starting to straighten herself out - until she’s reminding Sana that she’s the smallest of the three of you and in a possible sort of danger.

She reaches an open palm into the stream of water and splashes off the slick running down her mouth, her chin, her neck - gaze anchored to Sana's trembling figure. It's just one, heavy exhale into the hot, hazy air: "You've got it all wrong.”

Sana twists her head around, face still so wildly attractive amidst the look of worry and that flush of pink taking over from the bottom half. The tiny, imperceptible dip in her brows.

But before she can give voice to a complaint, Tzuyu has her spun by a rough grip around her waist, pinning her back to the tile - water beating down the rise of her breasts and the tops of her shoulders.

"If you're going to cum baby, it'll be all over his thick cock, getting your whole cunt so stretched and stuffed full it'll feel like he's cumming up inside your guts."

You and Sana share this wistful groan of a sigh after Tzuyu wraps her long fingers around your cock, aims you true, and brings you close. Closer. Until you can feel Sana's pulse at her cunt, lips wet and slippery and dripping, just a few inches from where the tip of your cockhead nudges the insides of her thighs. Sana's stomach is seizing in a fluttering of heat and -

"Do you like hearing her beg? That's good. Because this girl's gonna do everything she can to make sure you fuck her raw before you even let her come," Tzuyu's voice lowers, a deep register. "How long can you last, Sana?"

Sana gives you this look, all anticipation and pleasure, holding it for longer than is strictly necessary - and then, her pert little mouth falls open, keening, hissing out a shallow, almost painful, "fuck" the moment you bend at the knees and slip inside.

The feeling that washes over you is a beautiful elixir of relief, an indomitable kind of want, tinged with something heavier, and with just the tiniest hint of longing in the sense that this is not enough, nowhere near enough. It never is.

"God, Sana," is all you manage. All you want to.

Sana doesn't wait around any longer before giving you an impatient shimmy of her hips, fucking herself further down the length of your cock, like she wants to choke on it. And the feeling of it, well, she does it well - the tight warmth swallowing you to the base, her cunt squeezing you all at once, slick and smothering. Fuck, it's all in her eyes. How badly she wants to be held down, split apart. How tightly your fist finds itself locked around Sana's long, wet strands of golden hair as Tzuyu closes any semblance of distance - brushing her lips over where she can tease Sana's open and slack mouth, licking down inside, panting.

"Baby, you are so close, I can feel you trembling," Tzuyu teases, running her fingers up Sana's stomach, cupping steady the breast she can fit in her palm. She drops another messy kiss on Sana’s throat and hums: "Go ahead, cum. I'm sure he doesn't mind.” 

"You're such a prissy fucking- nnh-" Sana's words skirt right over Tzuyu's fingertips before they're shoved roughly across the swell of her lower lip and into the back of her mouth. If Tzuyu's intent was to prove a point, she's about as successful as can be - Sana can only gag quietly around her digits, working her jaw over them.

"Sana, shh-shh-shh, baby, don’t fight it; just cum around around his cock, don't put yourself in a corner and try to play games - he'll fuck you right, until you scream, I promise, and-"

It hardly ever takes much. That's something you've come to appreciate: Sana can't ever help it. With the way it actually feels, you pressing right up against where the rest of her cinches so impossibly tight. She was practically teetering on the edge, on the very cliff and within reach of falling right off of it the instant you fit the very hilt of your cock up the molten-hot stretch of her perfect cunt, sliding, fucking into her while water sprays all over her quivering body, so soft beneath the wash of rain.

One of Sana’s long legs gets wrapped around your waist and you can feel her nails start to dig through the muscles in your shoulders.

Tzuyu smirks right into Sana's temple, biting at the slickness of her skin, running the curve of her thumb around the length of Sana's jugular, and sucking with her teeth when Sana cries out. "How does our girl feel wrapped around you? Wet, huh? Needy?"

"Unbelievable," you answer honestly - and maybe that's the point; Sana's pussy is incredible. Hot and silky and absolutely unreal. There’s no question, whether she's a work of art, or if she'll fuck you up, but you love that part.

“Ruin her for me, won’t you?” Tzuyu prompts, with that twinkle of mischief you're rapidly becoming accustomed to. "She looks even prettier when she's fucked out. I know you know that."

She does, she does, she does.

Your hips snap, up, fuck in - Sana mewling around the shape of Tzuyu's first two fingers - then back, drawing the motion slow, long, full - until you’re crashing forward and sinking up into that warmth you know is spreading across every inch of Sana’s body, swallowing her up inside-out as her legs start to shake and give and her tongue laps recklessly along the outline of Tzuyu's knuckles. 

Sana knows she likes to play at coy and control, but this is never part of the act - your cock fucking her submissive pussy apart - it’s hard to argue she doesn’t love how you can come to own her: hot and fast and filthy, leaving her breathless and desperate, every thrust into her tight cunt punctuated with some pretty whimper. And here, she just… there isn't the luxury, there's nowhere to hide.

Nowhere to run or shy or look away.

Tzuyu curses when finally Sana bites down, part of a long sequence of reflexes that bloom from the depth you fuck up into her cunt. And with her voice back in her throat (Tzuyu's fingers shaking out the sharp pain) she fucking whines into it, unable to stop the steady line of nonsense tumbling past her lips, incoherent except for the single-minded purpose of her own release.

"Fuck, daddy, fuck," Sana repeats in the same way she always does, getting fucked, the letters collapsing into each other. "I'm cumming, fuck, fuck, so fucking wet. God, you're, fuck, right there, oh - I'm cumming, daddy, I’m fucking cumming," is the all further she gets, muddied with the sound of your slicked-up thighs moving in quick rhythm with the beat of your heart, slapping loudly against her skin - loud enough so that the neighbors can probably listen in through paper thin walls.

Then she goes silent, face painted with it all. She isn't crying, the tears won't come, but she's gone this quiet sort of wide-eyed that matches the way she's mouthing, cumming, over and over, you’re pulling me a-fucking-part.

And you believe her. You have to.

Just look at the way her legs are doing all the wrong things. Thighs tensing taut, muscles giving out - she’s slipping down the tiles, back bending and flexing and going limp all at once. Tzuyu's already moving, scooping her up like it's something rehearsed, before you even have to ask, "Tzu, help me hold her up, won't you?"

“Tzu, huh?”

It's not much, but it is worth noting: how Tzuyu, her fingers curling and interlacing between Sana's, holds the girl like she's breakable. Tenderly, cradling Sana's small body against her chest.

"Do you slip into pet names and all that with every girl Sana brings around? Or am I," and when Tzuyu tilts her head, her smile has this very palpable bite, "the exception?"

"Every pretty girl thinks they're special, sweetheart."

Tzuyu just glimpses one downward look into Sana, shivering, riding her orgasm down into nothing, and drops a kiss into her hair. A gentle chuckle: "And when have I ever given you a reason to doubt it?"

"Shameless," is all Sana offers up, beyond exhausted, trying and failing to take more than a passing, somewhat disgruntled interest in the scene unfolding around her, while she clings to the strength Tzuyu and the tile and your hands are putting into her body.

Meanwhile Tzuyu, this devil of a daydream - this tall, skinny thing of long hair and smirking lips and cheekbones as sharp as her wit, has her gaze locked. Still curious, and all but relentless - there's more she's dying to say. It seems almost impracticable that such a lovely woman would really be this way, weapons concealed under all that good-girl charm. And in its most uncomplicated form, that's what it is: an open invitation.

You've only managed the vaguest outlines, after all. "Do you mind?" you ask again.

The next movements feel more elegant than they probably are. Cradling Sana's limp body between you, finding a steady hold.

There’s a slight shuffle to discover a proper balance, a hand slapping the glass of the shower door, and yeah, Sana's fucked out. Slurring out sounds that might resemble the shape of words if she had the presence of mind. The rest are whines and whimpers, obscene in all ways.

“Baby,” Tzuyu tells Sana in a growling kiss to the back of her ear. "Keep your fucking legs up."

(That’s a cue if you were looking for one, to get your arms fastened around Sana's small waist as she leans heavy into your chest.)

"More," The girl in your arms starts to complain, when you truly start fucking her.

"Hurt - hnn, please, more - fuck - harder," and all those sharp edges, that arrogance and conceit, it's all gone. Her pupils are blown out, an animal-like-desire set in its place - these are your invitations to wreck her, you realize, pushing so deep into her well-fucked cunt that she arches, and that her head knocks against Tzuyu's, that the small room is entirely empty save for these movements under the metal cloud of shower water, falling like rain.

This is all there is. 

Tzuyu, smirking like she herself might get off on this. 

Sana, begging.

And when Tzuyu buries a hot smile at her throat, nibbling at the skin - urging her, urging you, this sharp, "now give her the fucking dicking of a lifetime, will you?"

When Sana’s reduced down to her pleas of, please, harder daddy, and deeper, god, I can feel you so deep -

Well,

You’re all instinct. You sink your fingers into the firm skin of her ass, grab at the soft, slippery flesh around her hips. You sink your cock into her hole again and again.

The stretch is obvious and absolutely devastating, making Sana cry out and muffle her face in your shoulder. She makes a weak sort of sound around your neck - it could be anything, maybe please don't stop, or maybe please do - it doesn't matter.

"You look incredible like this baby, does he fuck you well?" Tzuyu croons, curling around her so her head rests on her shoulder - eyes watching Sana, meeting yours. "Oh, come on, aren't you always telling me about how it makes you feel - all this, full and hot and better than anyone? Now's your chance, no hiding from him. Or me."

"It's so, god it's - I -"

"Come on," Tzuyu squeezes out one long, eager moan with her hand dropped onto Sana's breasts, pulling and kneading like she owns it. "Tell him to cum in you baby, like the good fucktoy you are, let him cum up into that creaming pussy until you’re all sticky and leaking cum all over, just the biggest fucking mess."

There is measurable irony, you suppose, in how Sana brings these friends of hers back with the clear expectation to be fucked and torn apart, how they each want the same, all wanting to get her unraveling and her knees buckling. Only Tzuyu manages, more efficiently than anyone you've ever seen, to leave her all wanton and squirming against your hard, relentless thrusts into her needy cunt.

It's easy: this isn't difficult, there is nothing hard about falling for each and every promise her face has to offer - knowing her body's secrets and drawing the story out, line by line, so you can fall in love with it over and over, all while Sana starts to go helpless at the shape of your cock filling up that tiny, wanting cunt.

So you cum. Inside her. In one final push, filling her completely.

Sana opens her mouth like she's trying to say something - say yes - say daddy, say fuck yes daddy.

"That's it," Tzuyu strokes down Sana's belly. "I knew it - now keep your pretty thighs shut. Can't let even a drop out, understand?"

"Yes, fuck. It's - fuck - good, he feels," Sana finally sobs, chest heaving as you grind the last little bits of cum deep, so far and hot as it can get. All the way in. Where it's hot and wet and throbbing and slick.

Where it should stay, because you never pull out. You savor the last bit of your pulse, sporadic and lethargic. Because in truth - your mind is made and your mouth won't say it because you don’t need to.

Tzuyu's wringing the water out of Sana's hair, picking the strands into careful folds. "Alright then," and her grin is positively lecherous.

There's a bench in the corner of the shower where you eventually arrive, panting now that you realize it, and Sana makes herself at home right in your lap, face buried in your shoulder. Grinding her hips down in this almost imperceptible circle, circling back and feeling. Holding you inside and murmuring into your collarbone.

(Fucked, Sana is simply and unfairly beautiful.)

It’s all in that exhale of a moment, when Tzuyu catches water in cupped palms from the shower-head, wiping away what stray tracks of soapiness left on Sana's shoulder-blades and breasts and thighs. Her hands all up and down her body, sudsing the crease between leg and torso, down lower still, around her sensitive pussy and her folds.

You wonder if she can hear you swallow.

"Maybe we should actually wash up before we go again?"

-

The first thing Sana's free hand goes for when she stumbles through the threshold of your bedroom is a hair band you didn’t know she was storing in the top drawer of your dresser. She fidgets around keeping her towel wrapped tightly around her chest as though modesty were an option at this point.

"What?" she asks, fixing you with a slightly-irritated, slightly-teasing smirk. "You look like you have something you want to say."

"Nothing." You laugh out loud. "It's nothing. I'm just waiting."

She makes this face at you, guilty - so sorry about the contraband - as she twists her wrists and pulls the hair band round her middle-finger, wrapping her palms around her knot of wet blonde and bundling it into a half-assembled ponytail. It leaves the length of her nape exposed and vulnerable, neck flushed pink-from-showering in all the most wonderful of places.

"Waiting," is what she hones in on.

Tzuyu is pulling out of the bathroom. Her hands, washed clean and dried off with a fluffy, off-white towel. When she sets it down, she steps back, leaning on the frame. "He's waiting, for what I wonder?"

She's made of all things smooth-and-sharply-cut. Even from here, even through the sleep-haze fog, the silhouette of her nude figure gives itself to a small sense of anticipation. The long and smooth sweep of her chest, from breast, up and out, and then tapering along down to where her hips flare. She takes a step and then another and lets her fingers ride her side, from the very top of the shallow indentation in the dip of her waist, up. Then the tautness of her abdomen and further still, running slow and over the breast, coming to cup its full weight, pushing the bottom of the curve outwards.

"Waiting to," and she wets her lips in something akin to expectation. "Pound me into the fucking bed?"

You’re smiling when you explain, "I was going to say a request…"

Tzuyu’s dimples deepen. "You mean, like, we can tell you what to do?”

You sit on the bed, which is actually more of a proposition than you realize. "I suppose."

"Sana, sweetie, is there something I should be doing for him," Tzuyu looks up, wearing that trademark kind of playful expression that is definitely deliberate and not at all a tell. "Or maybe I've got this all wrong and you know exactly what you want."

"Well," you manage in reply, sounding surprisingly sane. "Don't both start coming forward with any ideas you have no intention of following through."

"And what if I have no ideas at all? What would you tell me then," is the challenge you find hanging around the slender outline of Tzuyu's wrists, and then at the back of her fingers, as she cards her hands through her hair and pulls it prettily over rise-and-falls of her collarbones, until it's barely curtaining her breasts. 

(Barely.)

She crosses over to the bed - to you and Sana - and without much other movement than that, finds a knee on either side of you to let a lone fingertip skirt the tops of your hips. Flirting with the towel around your waist.

"For the record," Tzuyu says, flicking a glance at Sana and leaning down into your jawline. The palm she slides over your thigh is so warm, so promising of its heat and pressure you'd swear you can almost taste the touch of her. "I never, ever go back on my word."

"Try me," you tell her.

"I do have some, ideas." Every time her fingernail ends up between her teeth, it’s another drop in a well that runs god knows how deep. "Though very few of them involve this towel."

“And about the ones that do?”

"Well," Tzuyu starts to purr - reaching a hand down and spreading the flat of her palm on your chest, "I figured if I ever wanted something to bite down on, well, you know."

It's just a subtle little rock - and the perfect view: she starts like this, her hair all tucked behind one shoulder, the arch of her back lifting. Slow at first, Tzuyu only pausing after every other short breath to lick and kiss your lips with hers, and the edges of her teeth, all soft and insistent. You are sure - that with a subtle twitch, a minor jerk of the knee or hip - she is almost right over the perfect place, and when her hips grind in these micro-friction little motions that have her sighing and pushing herself flush, it's clear that all she's looking to do is rub her cunt down all over the erection you've been holding in since the last time your towel was hanging somewhere above your waist.

"Hold, please," Sana interrupts, when she leans over and plucks something out of the messy contents of the nightstand - a few hair clips, and, more importantly, a condom. She swears aloud when the package tears the wrong way, but she's quick to apply a lip balm-slick finger-tip on the inside of the ring, and hands the thing to Tzuyu by way of a passing roll, "so, I assume you've got this under control."

"Give me that."

"Mm. Have at it."

There is an intrusive thought that finds its place, wedged somewhere at the base of your skull when Tzuyu starts the careful act of lowering herself down your shaft - like this, it has an inevitability - a forward momentum, the familiar sense of excitement building a force in your heartstrings. Sana must have a similar sensation, as she scoots her ass and slides one hand over the same place you feel that force thrumming, her palm reaching right for Tzuyu's ass, while Tzuyu hisses out a tiny sound at the added stretch.

"Careful," Sana says, fingers drawn back from the cleft of Tzuyu's beautiful ass with a string of slick that's unmistakably arousal. "You try going back after having his cock. And trust me, there's nothing to go back to. Like, ever."

"That must be why you're always like this," is Tzuyu's cock-sure comeback, finding herself flush with your hips.

You're biting down. You're holding back. You're probably digging nails into your palms hard enough to break skin, because you could be double, triple wrapped, latex running up your length like a goddamn balloon and you'd still feel the hot, melting perfection of Tzuyu's pussy swallowing your cock in one, slick, seamless motion. There isn't any sound either more pleasing than that hitch-groan-slip you hear as Sana helps guide Tzuyu's hips back, forth, back again and to a steady beginning of this proper pace: smooth and full.

You both need a second, because, fuck - and she's biting into a grin. Eyes already half lidded as the speed builds. As Tzuyu starts really enjoying the drag of it, the feeling. The god-damn-fucking-stretch.

"Oh? Like what?" Sana asks, smirk filling out her lips to bridge the silence you're both groaning into. "Like what?"

"Greedy," Tzuyu says. The only part that really needs to get filled in. "Because he fucks the self-control right out of you."

Now Sana lets that settle, and it's not like she doesn't know. Or doesn't understand. And still, "Mm. That does sound like me, doesn't it, daddy?"

(Yeah, well- you- )

Tzuyu watches you watch what happens next: Sana peeling out the cotton slip of her bath towel - sizing up just how good Sana looks. Fuck-me-raw.

And then she laughs, deep and gorgeous. "Didn't he just do a number on you - hn, god. Can you hear him all up inside me? Fucking, splitting me apart."

It's true.

All of it.

The way Tzuyu rides your cock. Faster, faster, rolling her body and drawing her hands together behind the length of her hair and neck until the point of her chin is upturned, showing off the hollow of her throat. A tension that glitters with sweat.

The tightening in the space between the bottom of her ass and your cock - all of it is heaven. This slow-and-rough, rough-and-fast. Tzuyu picks the tempo of it to fuck out a particular pleasure that has you catching her and pulling her closer to your body, holding her through the upward grind, where your cock meets the heat of her cunt - pressing her closer.

That's it.

Possessive. That's what both girls have the good grace to read.

Sana's hands come up Tzuyu's ribs, fingertips skirting the muscle-taut-surface of her stomach, the bumps and grooves of her ribs, and up further still, riding the path of her breasts as they're bobbing-jostled and going full-on heavy - her thumbs go at her nipples. Rolling around the hardened tips - the faintest tug at them, enough to start to pull - then just teasing them between thumb and forefinger and loving the sight of you wincing. Loving that you love that.

"She's pretty, isn't she?" Sana laughs.

"It's a real show," you bite the compliment out. The very least you can get to.

(You'll be fucked if you can hide how much you want to stay buried in this girl and cum a fucking waterfall between those perfect, creamy thighs. Oh, she knows. The dirty little smile, the filthy laugh, you're holding tight - even if the act is useless.)

"Like how she clamps down," she hums. "That's the part I've always loved, you know. She just does everything so slow, so fucking good, so... deliberate."

There's a fist in Tzuyu's hair and no trace of sympathy or self restraint in her friend when Sana tells her, "Baby, ride him slow for me, can you do that?"

When Tzuyu sucks a hiss through her teeth, mouth caught around the sharp intake, Sana just licks a slow line along the curve of her lower lip - as though saying, baby, like the slut you are, remember who asked nicely? 

And it turns out: slow is worse. You can feel every tiny tremor of friction, every little shift of Tzuyu's cunt squeezing you. Clinging tightly. Your fingers wrap around her rib cage and hold her right as her ass hits your lap, while her head rolls back into her own hair. It is enough, finally, to draw an out-of-breath little pant out of her, making a beautiful blush crawl and spread across her cheeks - there.

(Oh, fuck, your brain echoes. So, you want slow, that's what the noise from your throat says as she eases back, rising up. So slow, you-can-feel-all-of-me. She makes the effort so flawlessly, it's fucking you both over, because she's looking at Sana with this flutter-beat look, eyes wide, wet and round and pleading.)

It gets that much worse the minute Sana pushes her down by the shoulders. Giving her some resistance. Showing you both she can take you inch by slow goddamned inch.

"Harder. Deeper, sweetie."

Tzuyu does everything Sana says she'll do, loving her fingers in her hair, pulling tight. Control given as easily as that. Because she looks just how she feels: utterly surrendered. A helpless kind of want, like there's something broken in her chest when the head of your cock pushes her deep, deep. To the point she feels something more than an ache.

"Want it," Tzuyu whispers out against Sana's smile. "From the back, like you promised," she says, and takes the shudder out of your breathing.

Sana cups her jaw, laughing. She puts one arm around Tzuyu's throat and bites at her chin, at her ear. "I bet he'd do just about anything to give you what you want, baby."

Tzuyu’s hips snap down onto yours again. Melting your cock in this thick, molten heat.

And again, faster. Needier.

The kind of movements across your lap that make everything louder - a beautiful chorus of small-sounds. Slaps and squelching. Wet and gasping and begging and skin-on-skin. You'd never, ever considered the act a competition before, not with Sana. But when Tzuyu seems to be seeing who can pull the most erotic of noises out from underneath your ribcage - or the highest pitched sigh - the wetter and louder it all gets -

"Sana."

"Tzu."

Tzuyu rides the pressure and finds her voice, head thrown back, jaw slack. "Sana - tell him to, I'm gonna, soon. Tell him what to do."

"Beg for him," and Sana gives her the fakest-of-all-pouts when she slips her hand along Tzuyu's inner thigh, nearing her where the two of you meet, then slowing her pace, bringing you both to an immediate stand-still, while her fingertips continue, ghosting across the shape of your stomach. "He doesn't need anything less than the truth."

Tzuyu's face. It's the most gorgeous thing you've seen. Her hips are winding slow against you when you hit a spot you're not entirely sure either of you can recreate at your own whim: deep inside. Her eyes as wide as they can be. All of her sharp edges now just these subtle things - the very shape of the shadow beneath her clavicle, the tensing of her thighs at your sides, the gentle lines that curl up from the wide bottoms of her hips when your fingers thread up her belly, palm open flat.

"I want," is where Tzuyu starts, not hiding it any part. "I want you to bend me over the bed." 

And in a breathless voice: 

"Please, please let me have what I want. Just bend me over the bed, shove my legs apart and take me. Hold me down. Fuck me and fill me and don't let me move or say a thing. Until we're both fucking finished."

You swallow. Hard.

Because here's what Sana's brought you: this tall brunette with an impossibly beautiful ass and thighs to die for, a sin-full mouth. The curves in her waist and back and tits a distraction, that you might try to map out until you're so lost you forget how to leave, how to ever take your cock out of this tight cunt.

"Is that a thing you can do?" Tzuyu practically purrs in one long tone, pushing herself up your waist, until your cock falls out and hangs there. Until you can only see all of this clear, gorgeous skin in front of you and hear her pretty little moan. "God, please, daddy, I’m begging you."

(She says this last part in a way that lets you know this isn't something either of you will get over easily, the kind of pleasure, the feeling and the flash. She's unreadable - almost, not quite- just too honest, there's nothing else for you to believe. Maybe that's where the shiver comes from, or your palms itching, or the sounds of your bedding ruffling as you spin her onto her back, her tummy - pull up on her hips until they're sky high and you can palm her breasts, let her press her knees up and apart on the duvet. Until you get that first look down the column of her spine and the sudden, stunning shape of her ass in a view you never want to say goodbye to.)

Tzuyu slides her hands across your sheets, all this stretch. A flex of muscle. When she opens her hips and you push two fingers deep, inside, easy - then back out -

"How much of that," Tzuyu interrupts, blushing furiously, "do I have left to beg with? Please."

- because she's been soaked and aching all day just thinking about it. Just begging for a good fucking - or so she told Sana, who now giggles and leaves small kisses up the ridge of her spine, crawls alongside the dip-line of the mattress, and after curling her fingers around the column of Tzuyu's throat - smooths a single fingernail up and down and presses, tracing, the groove of her jaw as you nudge your cock against her.

It’s not on purpose, this needlessly drawn-out moment - simple brush of latex against her slick, dripping folds, the tightening in her core and how it matches the tension in Sana's wrist and the coarseness of the bed-linens and the hardness of you - but everything eventually folds, into her.

And you're not helping, the way you're fastened to the narrow point of her waist like it's a handle. Your thumbs riding the arch of her hips, taking every opportunity to sink your fingers hard into the flesh, grip tighter and push, pulling Tzuyu, if only to really work that friction between your hips.

"Fuck, it's all in. Finally." Sana gasps like she's the one being bent, arched, fucked from behind, then lays herself down against the length of Tzuyu's shoulder, chin bumping her cheek. Watching Tzuyu. Taking it all in.

You have a hard time making it out, but Tzuyu starts this half-whimpered litany about how she needs to be fucked (that is, roughly - deep and long, or maybe rough and short and deep, or whatever, as long as it makes her lose composure), followed with some shoddy mix of cursing and your name and Sana's - the things all three of you might consider for another chance meeting.

And as you're following up the suggestion with a low groan, that's exactly how you notice that grind in her hips - a jerk back, a twist, bucking against you. She feels so, so incredibly tight when she writhes onto you, squeezes. Like she wants to tear her heart out her chest, she's so overwhelmed. So thoroughly and totally taken by this fuck. By you. "Harder," is all she says.

This one line does it, then two more. All in-and-out thrusts from behind, fuller the second time, then the third.

Only when you find Tzuyu peering back over her shoulder with a pair of eyes that say, please, pretty-please, all liquid and warm and wanting. "Fucking ruin that cunt, I want - god. Do you have the slightest idea how much," and that is where the words disappear into a slow and sticky whine.

"Yeah baby," Sana whispers.

She knows what it is. Tzuyu wants so much more, so you give it. Give her the just-this-side-of-ruthless fucking and the slow-pace grind you know can push her right over the edge. Give her more, all of you, and get her hands twisting in the pillow and grabbing fistfuls of sheets, burying her face into the space above her wrists and nearly choking on her hair with how she moans and yelps - loud.

Her whole body jolts forward the next time. The arch to her back deepening. Body drawing in on a flawless line.

Tzuyu does cum. Eventually.

She keens and rolls and begs you not to pull out or slow, just stay put and fill her with your cum - keep fucking going, please. The only thing keeping her from landing flat on your mattress as she practically unravels around your cock are fingers you have under her hips, tightening. Bruising.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck me, you’re,” you’re railing out of her lungs, where the words hang on sex-stale air.

First with Sana whispering promises into her ears and letting Tzuyu swallow, and suck around the length of her index, then two, fingers. Then licking a kiss into her mouth, tongue tangling up hers and finishing up the act with, "cum for us, Tzu, like the sweet girl you are - you take him so well."

Then, with your hand held over her ass-

(She could cry from it. From how everything pulls you in, like a riptide, and, really, with no regard for things like safety or drowning.)

-the utterance off her lips has your stomach twisting into knots:

"Keep," you hear her ask Sana. Barely getting the words out as you ride, fast. "Please, keep, telling him that I - god."

It gets worse before it gets better.

"I can't - I need; fuck, I can’t, with the rubber, I want him," and Sana smirks like she knew all along. "Sana, please-"

"You want the real thing, sweetie. Isn't that right, baby? Hm. Of course it's okay," and Sana soothes a hand through her friend's fringe, pushes it away from her eyes and over her ears, making something that sounds like an adoring laugh slip out. "You want him to fuck his cum so deep in that pussy, I know you do, don't worry."

When you slow down the grinding, wipe the sweat from your face, Sana gets your attention and nods to the very place your cock is disappearing between the cheeks of Tzuyu's ass, "go ahead. If you want the mess-up, sweetie - let's make sure that's exactly what he'll give you."

Who exactly wants what most is hard to say. Sana's the one pulling off the condom, the rubber stretching to an obscene limit that has you fearing for your life should it snap back before it breaks. Tzuyu is already a sort of gaping mess with it all, her own fingers snuck under to rub harsh circles in the absence of cock and something firm and heavy to fill her. To feel full.

And there's you, asking, or maybe, double-checking: "Tzuyu, you're saying you want me to-"

"She doesn't care," is what you're interrupted with, courtesy of Sana. "Fuck a baby into her cunt, that's what she wants."

(Like you wouldn't fucking love it too. Or have the frame of mind to even begin to unpack all of that.)

It’s a lot, admittedly.

And not just because Tzuyu has never looked better: on all fours, pressed, and presented. Legs all the way apart and ass and thighs in your grip, with that smile all pointedly certain and wild-eyed, like, she knows, that you know exactly what to give her - what she really wants - filling her so full and marking your claim by fucking your cum right to her very core.

Tzuyu drags her head back, so she can peek over her shoulder and meet your eyes.

She does things. Like sighing this small sound and laughing and - she has this thing for noises, for things breaking under the strain, where she won't say a word, except to murmur some part of your name into your jawline, a raggedness in her breathing. Sheer hunger.

"I want - want you to, fuck me."

You will. Or you are. Or you're going to, only - Sana's lips are fast around your cock, fingers fluttering delicately between your thighs and drawing these stuttering sounds in your breath, "I will. I will. I'm - I will."

Sana just hums, copper hair bobbing in place. Her hot mouth and wet fingers pulling and sliding and pulling and sliding. Tongue moving in all the ways she knows you like.

Which, here’s a fact: Sana can be mean. No one would believe it.

But sometimes this is the price of admission. You have to be honest about what it takes, how, exactly, you intend to break this beautiful brunette whose ass is swaying back and forth in this mesmerizing little waggle of the hips. It's hard not to marvel, not to ask questions and not wonder at what a pair of friends so similar and so opposite do to each other and other people and to themselves in those small, private hours and space no one else shares, that has you panting and burning and her clasping the hollow of your neck and asking with her body if this is okay, because sometimes, in moments of absolute need, just a glance can mean your end.

So, there's no tease; Sana is well aware of what it feels like when you're throbbing and ready to burst - she's working you up and over and right to that point of no return-

"Can I? Fucking-"

"Fine," she replies, maybe having now considered every other way you might spill a hot load out and make a mess of the sheets. "Have at her," and a flick of tongue catches around the tip of your cock - the final tease, the best punishment.

And the promise of how Tzuyu makes that perfect whimpering cry. Something entirely wounded. Because as soon as it begins - your cock in the shallow depth of her creaming cunt - you're both made aware how she's wetter than she was an hour ago and clenching at nothing, hands balling themselves in frustration, palms bunched white-knuckled up in fists. She needs something, anything. Something for her to squeeze against. For her to bear down on and bounce her cunt off-

The sound all three of you make when you grit your teeth and bury yourself deep into her pussy is a guttural, aching thing, with you biting a lip and gasping. Tzuyu half-growling-half-sobbing into the sheets.

It doesn't matter that she lets Sana cover her open and slack mouth in an attempt to quiet it.

It doesn't matter because in a blink, the exact point in which you sink completely inside - where it's the first, the best, feeling of Tzuyu’s hot pussy taking your cock.

(Mind-numbing, is the word that doesn't come to you.)

Under you, Tzuyu is writhing and hot and tight into the mattress - and so desperate.

"Please," is about all that gets away from her. Which is just too cute to ignore: she's been dying to be fucked, ever since stepped into your foyer and was introduced by the softest, most deliberate of gestures that wound up being all-too intimate. "Please- I need - harder, fucking-"

Sana takes to touching you, her own little form of enjoyment that ends with her fingertips mapping the shape of your jaw. Pupils blown, "Isn't she amazing?" Sana laughs into your neck.

"Fucking," is what your first real stroke back into Tzuyu pulls out,  “unreal."

The friction has you both grinding your bodies together at the base, and she arches, this throaty moan, before looking back up at you and letting her mouth fall open - this wordless sentence of plea, over and over again. She's shaking. Body-full. It's almost something painful to see, that she's so undone - and what if you were the only person who'd ever fucked her like this: into ruin.

Tzuyu clenches around the next thrust - begging, so-sore-and-begging to cum.

The demand is practically written in her muscles, and all you want is for her to let go for the second, third, last time - until she loses track of the count. To get there before you have the time to register that she is actually doing it. She's already half-way gone and at your mercy - her only choices now, being: cum, or let you chase the orgasm you're currently rubbing all around the curve of her cunt.

Sana swallows her scream when the first little cry comes, that you've edged out of her. And it gets worse and better the second time her ass meets your thighs, where she's making a real mess on your hips and all but yelling out her orgasm in her state of such incoherent stutter and disarray. The arch to her back is this thing out of your best imagination, which has you - pounding out all her noises - gripping and curving over the plane of her stomach. Until Tzuyu's beginning to make these different cries, somewhere new, somewhere you're finding a whole lot deeper.

"Hold her ass up and fuck her 'til she's full of cum," is the advice you get from Sana in the end, as you fuck her and fuck her through the tumultuous rise and fall of orgasm after orgasm, "oh baby, does it hurt so good? Do you feel that heat spreading down your thighs and getting you all slick? You always knew the best toys are the ones that get bred, sweetheart."

And from her, barely, "fuck, yes."

That's what does it: the desperation just that tangible in all your voices.

Sana manages to get her lips on yours. A kiss that could knock the wind out of your sails under normal circumstances, one that curls a fist and tugs around a familiar part of you. But Tzuyu's eyes roll and drop low, fluttering shut, while your hips crash in quickening succession:

"Fuck-you're so-perfect, cum in me again, daddy - make me," and, "please, so fucking full, just give me more. Want more of you, until it's-"

Tzuyu gets you. Just there. Just the way you needed it. Just like that.

There's something addictive in how her muscles clench and grab around the head of your cock - drawing everything you'd been holding back to a painful front, and - Sana's taste in your mouth still so sweet, mixed with salt and sweat, while you fuck and pound, with absolutely zero respite. Cum buried deeper and deeper until it's spilling and Tzuyu whines for the filthy feeling. Until you're fucked through, emptying every single drop into her open cunt. Until your legs feel sore, a slight shake all through the muscle and the tension in your neck and shoulders, and you're growling this thing that might be her name, and "Tzu, my god, baby, you feel, so amazing," in between thrusts.

It earns you an appreciative whimper.

Something breathy and not-at-all restrained. She doubles down on it when your cock slides out of her swollen, well-fucked cunt.

At first, she only hums a sleepy smile and turns her face in toward the touch, eyes closed and unresponsive. A long exhale. Even like this - especially, perhaps - Tzuyu is lovely.

Either out of exhaustion or overbearing satisfaction, you collapse into her - bodies folding up like that old-cliche about a stack of cards or dominoes - with your cheek to her back and your arms wrapping around her chest, tight, trying to squeeze. Like you're hugging someone from behind. Which isn't too far off. Because for the next five or ten or fifteen minutes or a half-hour, you lie there, pressing your face in against the side of her neck, smelling her hair - how sweet the strands are - then down along her shoulders, and under, listening to the soft way Tzuyu falls into her breaths. 

In, out. In, out.

Sana follows all the while with, "should we not have let her ride, first?"

To which, Tzuyu says, "fuck off."

Sana brushes it off, crawls around your shoulders and slips two, three, five kisses into your forehead. That's when you know to shuffle over, dragging and tugging limbs and muscles and bone in the same direction - careful not to let the sticky sensation linger anywhere it shouldn't. Not even for an instant.

The three of you are laying in a total fucking mess. But it's your mess, and that's beautiful in a sort of thought-provoking poetic way.

You turn your head. Tzuyu's there, still, blinking slowly.

"Hello again, hi," you say and the smile comes up all sorts of natural. "Okay?"

Her gaze shifts into something vague, so much quieter, but she nods. So it must be. Okay.

-

“Is it too early?” Tzuyu asks two weeks later, and nothing has ever, ever started like that.

She’s at your doorstep, a little too dressed up for the middle of the afternoon, hair pulled away from her face in two loose braids, bright eyes, lip-gloss that shimmers just enough. Something innocent in the whole way she looks and stands and smiles. Nothing, on the surface, that gives the truth away.

You lift an eyebrow, skeptical. Always. "I wasn't expecting company."

"Yes you were," and she dangles a set of keys.

"I'm sorry, did you steal those?"

The laughter from her chest is as surprising as it is gorgeous, rich and thick like molasses, rolling over the shape of her tongue. It hits you hard that two weeks - really, any amount of time - it’s not nearly long enough.

And before Tzuyu can admit as much out loud, Sana chirps from her spot aside the door, knee bent and grinning, "maybe I did."

"Well," you say, hands on your hips, "this is all a little..."

"Irregular, I know." Sana's giving her best impression of you: so exasperated.

"Which is, honestly," she continues to explain, pushing away from her perch and approaching in these small, gentle steps. "We need, that thing you promised you'd do," she trails a finger up the buttons of your shirt, under your jaw. You're already drowning. "Whenever" - is her very worst torture - "we called."

(Might just be a little bit of trouble, is the one honest answer, to whatever you were trying to start when you saw their faces and recognized their bodies and said: yes, come inside and meet me and fuck my brains out, all that.

What a way to begin. What a story it'll be.)

a/n: these two are fucking adorable.

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ atlas bound

i'm sorry you couldn’t find me ; i have been in the woods i put myself there because i couldn’t be good. i have been running with foxes and running with crows & i have found myself a home where no one goes.

ଓ.° ・ arthur morgan. red dead redemption 2. ଓ.° ・ note: female reader. arthur refers to her as 'missus, ma'am, darling, sweetheart, honey, etc'. she is drunk ( and also very emotional and affectionate ). arthur carries reader bridal style. high honor!arthur. discusses the nature of his self-deprecation. in this house we love and support tht outlaw i dont care what he did !! he is Good to me. quote cr : florence welch

you're certainly more outspoken when you've had a bit too much to drink. scratch that, arthur muses -- a lot more outspoken. seldom does it happen, but in the far and few occasions it does, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it. it's too god damn cute, the way you're much more honest, much more clingier.

( and what can he say? he loves taking care of you, loves the way you murmur those soft, half coherent love you's and thank you's a thousand times over. to be honest, he can't tell if you say it like a mantra because you're just that grateful or if it's because you're so wasted that you've forgotten you said it earlier. )

"darlin'," he can't help but chuckle, managing to shut the door to the hotel room, one arm around your back, the other under your knees as he holds you close, "you really done it now, you know that?"

an instant response.

"no, i didn't."

he pauses, shakes his head in amusement before he gently lowers you on the bed, helps you sit on the edge.

"you ain't even know what i'm talking about."

there's a feign, subtle hint of sternness in his tone, but you see through it with such ease. you just smile in return, though curiosity flickers in your slightly glossy eyes as he crouches before you, calloused hands slowly taking yours in his. he looks up at you, searching with that gentle look that only you have the privilege of knowing.

& there's so much love in those eyes, you think. you always think that, heart quickening and flourishing with affection, every beat yet another blossom in devotion. you could drown in those ocean hues, sink into reverence and reverie, forget the dangerous life you survive, and dream of better days.

this life is not an easy one, but as long as you are with him, you will make it through. you always will.

you take a deep breath, face suddenly very flushed -- and you wonder if it's the alcohol or the overwhelming feeling of his gaze on you. a serene silence between two lovers in the night, hand in hand, so terribly in love in a world in which neither of you belong except to each other.

"arthur morgan," you suddenly blurt out, slipping your hands from his, only to cup his face with such quiet veneration, "i got some words for you, mister."

he blinks in surprise, brows raised slightly. his hands now rest on your thighs, thumbs occasionally tracing small circles against the fabric of your attire.

"some words, huh? i hope they're good ones."

...well, he's joking. kind of. but with the way your brows are slightly furrowed, focus utmost sharp... ah, well. shit. maybe he's really done it now.

"...i love you, arthur morgan." you say, words a little slurred. "...i think i said that before."

he takes a moment, lets out a small sigh of relief.

"...yeah, think i heard it once or twice." he responds, though there is only tenderness in his tone. "i love you too, sweetheart."

you stare. really hard. it's not quite a moment of intimacy, really-- it's more amusement on his end, and... whatever thought and feeling you're having on yours.

"okay." you say, and he almost laughs. you pinch his cheek, teasing. "but listen... 'm not done yet, mister."

"...alright, missus. i'm listenin', loud and clear."

you stay silent for a long while, just studying him intently, though your expression has relaxed, turned into something of an aching. he's not sure what you're thinking, not sure whether it's the alcohol that's getting you or something else, something deeper.

"...arthur," you finally speak up, "you're such a good man. i hope you know that."

he feels his heart break a little-- whatever remains of it, anyway. he looks up at you with wide eyes, and it doesn't take a second before he responds.

"...you know that's not true, sweetheart." a quiet answer, excruciatingly soft, just like the way he places his hands over yours. "i'm not a good man. got too much blood on my hands. did things i'm not proud of."

"you're good to me. to thousands of other people, arthur." you whisper, and he almost wonders if you've managed to sober up that quickly. "we all got blood on our hands, love. you could bathe them in red, for god's sake, and i'll still hold them."

he stills. his heart pounds against his chest, longs to be free from the thorns of doubt that have dug themselves deep into his existence.

"honey--"

"i wish you could see yourself the way i see you." your voice wavers slightly. "i see the way you look at yourself in the mirror, arthur. i hate it." a crack in your voice, and then in the decayed humanity that lays in his chest. "i hate it, love. i wish you could see all the good in you, all that kindness you got and share. you're so good, arthur, and you won't let yourself believe it. i wish you would. i wish you'd be as kind to yourself as you are to the world."

he finds himself speechless, uncertain. afraid. he wants to protest, wants to say otherwise-- because it's all he knows. he's never been a good person. he's killed, robbed-- but he's also saved, given when he's always had so little.

"...tell me that you'll learn to believe it." you say. "i don't care if it takes a week, a year, or the rest of our lives. i don't care if we're old and gray. just tell me you'll try. please, arthur."

there's a strange numbness in the beating of his heart, and just the slightest bit of wonder -- christ, you were so drunk and nonsensical just a few moments ago, and now you're here, on the verge of tears with nothing but ardency in your voice.

he wants to refuse, wants to decline, but he can't. he can never refuse you.

"i'll..." he clears his throat. "for you, i'll try. ain't making no promises, though."

you smile, and he cannot help but return it, though there's a quiet hesitance and reluctance beneath it all, and you see it.

"thank you." you lean down, press a kiss to his forehead. "i love you, mr. morgan." a pause, then a little hint of confusion in your eyes, the intensity suddenly gone ( and ah, he realizes-- still drunk as hell ). "i think i've told you that before. maybe..." you murmur, suddenly deep in thought about something so entirely casual in comparison to the previous conversation that happened, what, a few seconds ago?

still, he cannot help but laugh, and the curve of your lips grows more gentle at the sound. it was a matter of time before you started repeating yourself, anyway.

"yeah, you might've told me." he smiles when you lean down, lips pressing against his in a blithe kiss. "love you too, you drunken fool."

( you won't remember this in the early hours of the morning, he thinks, but he will, forever and always. it's just the faintest bittersweetness that comes with that realization, he contemplates, eventually climbing into bed with you, pulling the covers up as you practically drape yourself over him.

you won't remember this, and his mind haunts him ever so, tells him that you're just being kind, just taking pity. you won't remember it, and maybe you don't really mean all of it. but you have no reason to lie, and you never would-- but the heart and soul is a cruel being, and he cannot shake the thought.

he falls asleep to such troubling thoughts-- nothing new, not really. there hasn't been a single moment in his life where he granted kindness to himself.

& so he wakes to a peaceful sunlight, a nice hotel room, a comfy bed, and a certain half-awake, hungover someone next to him. he pauses, relives the memories of last night, and his mind wanders. he sees the way you look at him : a little disoriented, a little groggy, and it's only a second before your eyes light up the moment you notice he's awake, the radiance in your features so blinding and brilliant sometimes. and it's that very moment, he realizes -- in the way you look at him like he's the god damn world, that you meant every single word last night, drunk or not.

he holds you a little tighter, offering silent greeting through shared warmth. somewhere in that little space between your bodies is a gratefulness, and in time, he thinks, he'll learn to be kind to himself. )

[fantasydreamland]

Answered Prayers

ragnar lothbrok x fem reader

Summary: After being captured by the Vikings your prayers to god remain unanswered, as you come to realize they always have. An intriguing Viking man teaches you of their ways, and all your prayers are answered. (No language barrier & Ragnar is unmarried for the sake of the story).

Notes: 18+ ONLY!!! Smuttt, maybe some fluff, loss of virginity, p in v, fingering, oral (f), angst, kidnapping/violence/raiding in opening story, possible spoilers.

Word count: 3754

I’m very into Norse spirituality so I loved writing this

masterlist

Everyone in the city moves in a panic as the bells ring, alarms in response to the Northmen pulling up to your shores. You find a spot in your house to hide and clutch your cross close to your chest as you pray to god to protect you from these heathens.

A bang startles you as a Viking man kicks down your door. Your heart races as you hear him tearing apart the house searching for valuables. You hear screams outside and continue whispering prayers to god begging him to keep you from being found.

The Viking eventually finds you hiding in a corner between your bed and the wall. Your heart stops when his bright blue eyes meet yours. His eyes examine you from head to toe before he smirks.

“Please… please don’t kill me.” You beg through oncoming tears. “Take whatever you want, just please.”

“Come.” He reaches his hand out for you to take.

You look up at him with furrowed brows in confusion.

“You said I can take whatever I want.” The man says. “So come.”

“No, no, please. Please don’t hurt me…” You cry.

“If you come with me, I will have no reason to hurt you.” He steps closer. “Otherwise…” He gestures to the axe in his hand.

You sniffle as you get up onto your feet. The Viking gestures his hand out to you again which you reluctantly take. He rushes out of the house, dragging you along with him. A small shriek escapes you as your eyes take in the dead bodies and blood everywhere. The man pays no mind to any of it as he pulls you through the city and leads you right out the front gates and into their Viking camp.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” A large Viking man with long dark hair approaches you. You pull away as he tries to brush hair from your face.

“Leave her be.” Your captor says as more of the men come over to ogle at you.

“Why? She is a useless Christian. Only good for one thing...” The man smirks at you.

“She is mine, keep your hands to yourself Rollo.” Your captor replies. “That goes for all of you! No one touches her, she belongs to me.”

You take a small breath of relief before your captor grabs your hand again and leads you far from the group and into a tent.

“Sit.” The man gestures to a small cot. “What is your name?”

“(y/n).” You say as you sit.

“(y/n)…” He hums. “Interesting name. I’m Ragnar Lothbrok.”

“Thank you Ragnar.” You say lowly.

“For what?”

“Out there, protecting me from the other men…” You respond. “And I guess… thank you for not killing me.”

“Like I said to the men, you are mine. They will not harm you as long as you are with me, understand?”

You nod your head.

“What are you going to do with me?” You ask.

He smirks in response before looking you up and down, making you nervous.

“I have not decided yet.” He shrugs with a smirk still on his face.

**********

The journey back to their land was long and dreadful. You had never been on a boat before and the ride made you nauseous. Ragnar kept a close eye on you and made sure no one bothered you.

As soon as they dock Ragnar quickly sneaks you away like he is trying to hide you. He leads you to his small farmhouse outside of town.

“Am I your slave now?” You ask once inside.

He laughs at your response and you scowl.

“I have no need for slaves.” He shrugs.

“If you wish to cook or clean for me, or do other things…” He smirks at you suggestively, making you blush. “I would certainly not object, but you will not be forced to do anything.”

“So I am not a slave… but I am not a free woman?” You question.

“Yes.” He simply responds.

“Then why am I here?”

“I do not know. The gods have not revealed your purpose to me yet.”

“There is only one god.” You say sternly.

He laughs again making anger rise in your cheeks.

“Maybe your god will reveal to you your purpose then.” He says teasingly.

**********

The next couple days were surprisingly peaceful. You did not dare to try and leave the house. Although he never asked you to, you cooked and cleaned mostly to have something to occupy your time but Ragnar appreciated you either way. He would disappear for most of the day to god knows where, but when he returned you would have a hot meal waiting for him.

Ragnar would ask many questions, about your life and your god. You asked about him in return and he told you all about his adventures and of his gods.

“Are you a virgin?” Ragnar asks out of nowhere while you are eating supper.

You choke on your drink, the question taking you off guard.

“Pardon?”

“Well, you are unmarried right?” He continues. “I have heard Christians remain virgins until they are married.”

“Well, um, yes. It would be a sin otherwise.” You respond shyly.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is it a sin?” He asks with curiosity in his tone.

“I- um, I don’t know. It’s just a sin. You should only make children with your husband or wife.”

“Well, that is a bit silly isn’t it?”

“What is so ‘silly’ about that?” You scowl.

“Because making children is not the only reason to have sex.” He shrugs.

“What do you mean?” You ask, heat rising in your cheeks from annoyance and another feeling you couldn’t quite place.

“Do they teach you nothing?” He raises his brow.

“Not really… especially us women. They keep us sheltered from everything.”

“Well,” He says, taking the food bowl from your hands and placing it down.

He leans towards you until his breath brushes your ear, sending shivers up your spine.

“Sex can provide you with the greatest of pleasures…” He says lowly in your ear, your heart races. “If you know where to touch.” His fingers graze up your knee.

“Your gods… they do not care if you sin?” You ask but it comes out as a whisper.

He chuckles.

“To our gods, it is not wrong. The gods gave us the gift of such pleasure, why would they deny us from taking it?” He shrugs.

“I guess that is true…” You whisper.

“I can show you our ways, if you want.” He says with a devilish grin, moving his hand back to your knee.

“What? No. No I- Um, no… thank you.” You stutter, taken aback by his offer.

“Well, if you change your mind you know where to find me.” He whispers in your ear before standing and cleaning up from supper.

You go to bed early, trying to hide your flushed cheeks since your conversation. Ragnar eventually begins to lightly snore from the next room that was only separated by a thin wall with gaps you could see through. His words replay in your head, “greatest of pleasures if you know where to touch.”. Curiosity gets the better of you as you lightly trace your fingers along your neck and collarbone, the feeling creating goosebumps. Without even realizing, you start imagining Ragnar’s hand as yours travels lower. You grab onto your breast before your hand continues down. Your fingers tease at the hem of your pants before slowly moving down into them. You lightly touch the sensitive skin and it sends a jolt through you making you gasp louder than intended. You hear Ragnar stir in the next room and you quickly pull your hand from your pants as you look to him, still asleep. You sigh and try to get comfortable to sleep. Everything that has happened within the last few days has left you so lost and confused. You have been praying to god every day but nothing changes, nothing reassures you and what you are supposed to do in this place. Your mind continues to race until sleep eventually pulls you under.

**********

“I would like to go into the mountain to pray.” You say to Ragnar.

“Why? So you can run away?” He gives you a teasing scoff.

You can’t hide the small laugh that escapes your lips.

“You know I would not make it very far without you.” You roll your eyes at him. “Besides, I need you to show me the way.”

“Alright then… perhaps tomorrow.” He shrugs.

“No, today.” You push. “Right now… please.”

You were desperate to have a moment of solitude and a private moment speak to god.

“Very well, we should go now while the sun is still high.” Ragnar says as he heads towards the door, you stand and follow after him.

He leads you up the hills of the forest until you reach a clearing facing the water. The stunning view took your breath away.

“I… I need to be alone.” You say to Ragnar.

“Do not try to escape.” He winks at you. “I will be just down this hill when you are done.”

You give him a grateful smile and you watch him walk away until he is out of sight. Turning back to face the edge of the cliff, you close your eyes take a deep breath as you feel the breeze brush across your face. You crouch to the ground onto your knees and bring your hands together in prayer.

“Heavenly father… Please help me to find my path. I feel so lost in this unfamiliar world and do not know what I am to do next or who I am meant to be now… And I feel… as if my prayers to protect and watch over me have gone unanswered, especially when I was taken by these people.” You pray with tears coming to your eyes. “Please god, if you are there, if you are watching over me… if you are real… please send me a sign.”

You open your eyes and watch for any sort of sign that your god is with you. Nothing happens.

“Please, give me any sign so I know you are watching over me as I have always believed.”

You wait again, and wait, and wait. The world was still, not even a stronger gust of wind to show a possible sign from god.

You drop your hands into your lap in defeat. Tears begin to roll down your cheeks until an idea crosses your mind. You breathe out a laugh to yourself feeling a bit silly for what you were about to try. You bring your hands back together but instead have a strange urge to connect to the earth. You bow, reaching your hands forward into the ground, feeling the dirt and grass between your fingers.

“Odin…” You close your eyes and begin, whispering so quietly it’s nearly silent. “Freyja… Thor… Please hear me. Hear my prayers. Help me, guide me, to who I am supposed to be now… what I am supposed to do.”

Suddenly, a raven lets out a loud ‘caw’ startling you. Your head shoots up and you look to the bird watching you from a rock to your side. Your heart races and your eyes go wide as you watch each other. A tickle on your hand makes you look down to see a white butterfly that landed on you. You lift your hand to admire it and it flies around your head before flying away, at the same time the raven flies off with it.

As your brain tries to comprehend the unmistakeable signs that the pagan gods are answering your prayers, you hear a rumble of thunder. The skies turn grey within a matter of seconds before rain suddenly begins to pour down. You stand and let out a laugh of disbelief as you spread your arms wide and look to the sky as you let out a heavy breath of relief. The rain washed over your entire being, cleansing you of your troubles. It felt like a different kind of baptism, a rebirth.

“(y/n)?” You hear Ragnar call from behind you.

You turn to him with a wide smile on your face. He noted how beautiful you were when you smiled like that, he realized he had never seen more than a faint one cross your lips.

“Are you alright?” He smiles back at you. “We should head back. Thor’s wrath may become brutal soon if we remain all the way out here.”

“No, he is speaking to me.” You smile, making Ragnar’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Your gods… the gods…” You continue. “They answered my prayers…”

“So, suddenly you believe in our gods now?” He teases. “And what of your god?”

“The Christian god has never answered my prayers. Never even given a small sign he is with me.” You explain. “I prayed to Odin, and a raven appeared… Freyja, a white butterfly landed on my hand the same moment… and Thor…” You gesture to the skies the rain continues to pour down from.

You walk closer to Ragnar.

“I want to teach me your ways…” You say lowly.

“All of our ways?” He smirks, mischief dancing in his eyes.

“All of your ways…” You say as you move even closer until your noses brush.

He traces his finger up your neck, making you shiver. His finger continues to move along your jaw before he gently lifts your chin, making your eyes meet his piercing blue ones. “Are you sure about that?” He says with his classic devilish smirk.

Instead of responding you bring your lips to his, which was answer enough. He doesn���t hesitate to kiss you back hungrily, a small growl escaping him. He cups your cheeks as the rain pours down on you both, the kiss is wet and passionate. His tongue demands entrance to your mouth and you let him take the lead, following along a little awkwardly. His hands move from your face down to your hips as he pulls you against him. The hardness pushing against your stomach makes you gasp.

“Do you wish to return to the house…” Ragnar whispers, against your lips before kissing you again.

“No… I want you to take me right here… under the eyes of Thor and all the gods watching over us…” You whisper back, bringing your hand to his cheek.

Your words light a fire in Ragnar as your eyes meet in an intense gaze. He reaches out and begins to slowly pull at the strings of your dress. His eyes watch yours carefully, as if daring you to stop him. You would do no such thing. Once the ties were loose you let him pull the dress off your shoulders, completely exposing your breasts. They instantly perk up in the cold chill of the rain, droplets of water falling down your skin. A moan escapes you as he leans down and takes one in his mouth, flicking his tongue over your sensitive nipple. Your entire body felt aflame. You welcomed every cold raindrop that touches your heated skin.

His sinful tongue continues to explore down your stomach until he’s on his knees in front of you. You look down at him with lust filled eyes as pulls down the skirts of your dress, leaving you completely bare for him. His gaze meets yours as he squeezes your thighs hard and gives you a smirk.

“Ragnar what are you-“

Your words are cut off when his tongue licks your most intimate area. You gasp and whine as he begins to messily eat you. Your legs shake and wobble as you try to hold onto his shoulders.

“Ragnar I can’t…” You breathe.

He could sense you were barely able to hold yourself up. In one swift movement he hooks your legs over his shoulders and you yelp as he lifts you up. His tongue does not stop working at your bundle of nerves as he walks you over to a tree. You lean your back against the rough bark. The feeling of him was so overwhelming that you hardly felt the tree scratching at your skin. He ate you ravenously like a man starved. Your hands quickly find their way into his hair, tugging lightly, he grunts against you in response. You pant as you look up to the grey rainy skies, the entire moment felt like a dream. A knot begins to tighten in your stomach and your vision starts to blur. Ragnar dips his tongue into your entrance and that is your undoing. You scream out as your thighs squeeze tightly around his head. You would be worried about hurting him but you could swear you felt him grinning against you as his tongue works you through your orgasm.

Ragnar carefully lowers you back to the ground, you feel both your body and your mind come back down to earth. You shiver as he lays you down on the cold wet ground. He removes his now soaked shirt before climbing over you and capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, you moan at the taste yourself as your tongues dance together.

He stands again to quickly remove his pants, your eyes widen at his length before he climbs back on top of you.

“Are you certain?” Ragnar asks lowly, noticing your worried expression.

“Yes but… I don’t think it will fit…” You whisper shyly.

He gives a cocky chuckle before he begins kissing on your neck.

“It will.” He mumbles against your skin.

You feel him rub his length against your core making you whine and buck your hips in response.

“So eager.” He smirks.

He slowly begins pushing in making you grimace in pain. You instantly question his reassurance that it will fit.

“Shh,” Ragnar tries to soothe you.

His lips move back to your neck kissing, sucking and biting, trying his best to distract you from the pain. You moan at the feeling before he pushes right through the barrier and you gasp loudly. Ragnar groans loudly as he feels you squeezing tightly around him like a vice. You pant heavily with tears in your eyes as you adjust to his size. He does not move until you’re ready, then he starts pushing in and out slowly. The pain soon fades and you wrap your legs around him, forcing him deeper into you.

“Please…” You breathe out.

“Please what?” Ragnar whispers directly in your ear, making you shudder.

“More…”

“More what?” He teases you.

“Ragnar, please.” You groan in frustration. “Faster. Harder. Give me more.”

He smirks before finally obliging your wishes and starts pounding into you relentlessly. You quickly begin to see stars as your second orgasm washes over you and you cry out his name. Ragnar slows his pace once you have hit your peak.

“So this is…” You pant. “This is how Vikings… fuck?”

“We fuck however we want to.” He says as he kisses your neck, still hard inside you. “Viking women enjoy riding their men like wild horses.” He mumbles against your skin, like a challenge.

“Then I shall do that…” You say as you sit up and force Ragnar onto his back.

Ragnar’s eyes widen as you move to straddle him.

“I shall ride you like a wild horse.” You look down and meet his eyes, fire in your eyes and a devilish smirk on your lips. “I shall fuck you like a true Viking woman.”

He does not take his eyes off you for one second as you start to sink back down onto his cock, causing your mouth to drop at the feeling. Being new to all of this, you awkwardly try to bounce up and down until Ragnar grips your hips and guides you to move them back and forth.

“Oh…” You moan, eyes rolling back.

You follow his direction and rock your hips back and forth, increasing the speed. The position sends tingles through your entire body. Ragnar watches you in amazement, taking in every inch of your wet naked body as your beautiful moans ring in his ears. His hands move from your hips to grab your breasts and you ride him harder in approval, earning a groan from him.

You still felt like you were dreaming. You had lived such a strict sheltered life and felt so trapped for so long… But as the grey clouds swirl above you and the rain pours down over your shamelessly naked body, as you ride this god of a man who made your entire body vibrate with life, as you cried out loud enough for the gods to hear, as your prayers had finally been answered and your path now clear, as you feel your very souls connect. For the first time in your entire life… you felt free.

Your peak hits you even more intense than any time before, zings of pleasure radiate throughout your entire being. You felt yourself cry out Ragnar’s name but the sudden crack of lightning in the distance completely drowned out the sound. Your eyes shot open and you caught a glimpse of the fast line of lighting across the mountains at the same moment you came. Ragnar digs his fingers hard into your hips as he finds his own release. A loud rumble of thunder booms as he chokes out a moan. In that moment you felt so tremendously powerful, like a you were a god and goddess.

As you come down from your high the rain suddenly becomes much lighter. Panting, you look down at Ragnar who’s grinning smugly up at you. You give him a smirk back before leaning down and capturing his lips in a hungy kiss, your tongue instantly demands entrance and Ragnar happily obliges, moving his hand to your cheek as he eagerly kisses you back.

You roll off of him onto the wet grass, the rain now stopping completely. You felt so wild and free you that had no care about the mud that had gotten all over you.

“So…” Ragnar huffs, still catching his breath. “You really believe in our gods now?”

“They answered my prayers…” You respond, also panting. “It is hard to deny their existence after all of that.”

Ragnar just grins at you.

“We should get cleaned up.” He says as he stands, lending a hand to help you up.

As you stand he pulls you into a quick passionate kiss.

“Welcome to my world, (y/n).” Ragnar smiles.

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