#like that is so nice from july what a good friend | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

puckinghischier · 7 months ago

Text

Choices

Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary: jack proves that he will always choose reader, no matter what anyone has to say

notes: so, the first part of this is literally my favorite thing i’ve ever written. the ending? meh. i don’t hate it, but i definitely think it could have been done better, i just struggle so hard with endings 😭. i also lowkey don’t like the title, but literally couldn’t think of a different one. anyways, i hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

can be read as a part 2 to this fic, but can also be read by itself

request: Could you write something with Jack getting defensive/choosing her? Maybe he gets cornered by an ex flame or someone about what makes reader so special to get him to commit to a serious relationship when he didn't with her

[6.7k]

“Are you sure I don’t need to dress up tonight? I know you said they’re just some old family friends, but I want to make a good impression,” you question Jack, standing in front of the full-length mirror propped against the wall.

You’re wearing a pale, yellow sundress with daisies imprinted all across the fabric. Jack insisted the Lawsons were just old friends of the family, having owned the house down the street since he was just a kid.

Since meeting Jack’s family last year, you’ve been his plus one to every single trip he’s made home. At thanksgiving he brought you home for a quick, two day trip to meet his grandparents and a few pairs of aunts and uncles, before having to fly out again because of his game schedule. Around Christmas the two of you split your time, spending the actual holiday with your family, then flying to meet Jack’s family for New Year’s activities, where you met several cousins and old school friends of Jack’s.

This year, you’re celebrating the Fourth of July in Michigan, finally getting to experience the infamous Hughes lake house. Jack was able to convince you to spend an entire month here at the large house, telling you the trip was for the Fourth festivities, but suggesting you leave a few weeks beforehand, wanting you to get the full lake house experience.

You had spent your days switching between joining his family on the large pontoon boat sitting at the end of their dock and going out on adventures with Jack alone on the pair of Jet skis Quinn had bought after his first paycheck came in during his rookie year. A few nights a week, Jack would tell you to put on something nice, showing you around the small town a few miles away from the house, taking you to each of his favorite childhood spots for dinner.

One night he had told you to put on the nicest dress you brought, then proceeded to take you to an old, beach themed bar. He sat across from you at the high top table in a collared shirt and khakis, the rest of the patrons around you in their bathing suit cover ups or shorts and t-shirts.

You scolded him, telling him you two looked like fools in there, all dressed up to eat fried seafood. He laughed, telling you the only fool in the room was him, because he was “foolishly and wholly in love with you.” You rolled your eyes at his mushy-ness, a blush making its way to your cheeks at the same time.

That memory, however, is the reason you no longer trust Jack when he tells you to either dress up or dress down for dinners. Including tonight.

“I promise, you don’t have to dress up. You could wear your bathing suit for all I care,” he calls out from the bathroom where he’s ‘fixing’ his hair, which usually means brushing it and then ruffling it around with his hands. “I mean, mom might not be too happy if you’re sitting at the dinner table in just a bikini, but I’d sure enjoy the show.”

You scoff at his words, turning to go and stand in the doorway of the ensuite, crossing your arms.

“I’m being serious, J. I want to make a good impression on these people. They’re really good friends of your parents. Your mom was telling me how you all used to spend almost the entire summer together, constantly over at one another’s houses for dinner and fire talks,” you remember how excited Ellen was to be having her friends over for dinner tonight, claiming she hadn’t seen them in years because of how busy their lives had gotten.

Ellen also mentioned they had a daughter around your and Jack’s age who was in with her parents for the summer. Her name is Sarah and she’s a department director of some big advertisement company in New York. She stopped coming around as often around the same time Jack got drafted to the Devils, according to Ellen. Her job being too demanding for her to make the trip every summer.

You were excited to meet yet another person that knew Jack as a kid. You were hoping to rope a few stories out of her over the course of dinner, wanting to know as much as you can about Jack’s childhood from those around him. Sometimes you really hate the fact that you haven’t known Jack his whole life. You count yourself one of the luckiest people alive to be able to share his life with him now, but you’re always picturing him growing up, wanting to know every detail of what makes Jack, Jack.

Quinn and Luke are always eager to tell you anything you want to know about Jack, from the time he wanted to be “TP man” for Halloween and proceeded to wrap his entire body in toilet paper, wearing the empty rolls on his hands, to the time he wanted to ask his eighth-grade crush out on a date, but instead blurted out that he had to go home to massage their dad’s feet.

You always enjoyed hearing stories about him from people that weren’t his mischievous brothers, though. Like when his grandma told you about the time she got home to see that Jack had rearranged her kitchen cabinets, placing everything he saw her use on a regular basis closer to where she could reach it after watching her drop her favorite mug while trying to put it away on the second highest shelf that morning. Or when his best friend from high school told you about the time Jack gave him a ride home from practice, stopping in to say hello to his parents when Jack heard his little sister crying in her room because she couldn’t figure out her math homework. Jack stayed over for nearly two hours to help the little girl with her multiplication table and gave her words of encouragement the entire time.

You knew Jack was someone special, his calming energy easing your nerves from the first time you ever spoke to him. Hearing the stories that confirm he’s been this way his whole life, from the people that have known him far longer than you, though, makes you burst with so much love for the man you think your heart might actually explode one day.

“And I’m being serious, Sunshine, what you’re wearing is fine and won’t change the fact that they’re going to absolutely love you, just like everyone else does,” Jack walks over to stand in front of you.

You uncross your arms, letting them fall to your sides. Jack reaches down and takes each one of your hands into his, stepping forward slightly.

“I just…I care about how the people that know you view me. It’s important to me that the people important to you know that I love you, not that I’m just trying to ride on the back of some hot shot hockey player,” you whisper, referencing a blog post you were sent by one of your coworkers back in Jersey, asking if the girl in the picture was, in fact, you sitting on Jack’s lap in a crowded bar you went to for a post-game celebration.

The post talked about how you had been seen with Jack at a few games and were seen leaving several bars with him over the course of a few weeks early into your relationship. The blog site was a silly, hockey gossip blog, more concerned about who the players were sleeping with than any of the games themselves, but the accusation made your heart sink nonetheless. You knew you were with Jack for no reason other than you love him and he makes you feel safe, comfortable, and loved. Jack knows you’re not with him for his money, and anyone close to him knows you’re not with him for his money or fame.

He could quit hockey tomorrow and it wouldn’t change even an ounce of your feelings towards him. With or without hockey, he’s still your Jack. The Jack that makes you honey lavender tea every night because he knows it helps you sleep. The Jack that somehow manages to bring you flowers after every home game, no matter how late it is. The Jack that insisted you move in with him after your lease ended because his apartment is closer to your new job, but really because he was tired of not coming home to you every night. The Jack that showed up to your graduation this spring, bringing nearly his whole team and his family, the group cheering so loud when you walked across the stage everyone in attendance laughed, the person handing you your diploma commenting “sounds like you have a few fans out there.”

Even though you know that Jack knows, and his family knows, each time you meet someone new from his life, you feel the need to prove yourself. It’s part of the reason you were so anxious to meet his parents all those months ago. You worry that each person you meet has seen or read an article like the one you were sent. You worry they’ll think you’re not right for Jack, or that you’re only with him to get a taste of the popularity and lifestyle that comes along with his job. All you want is to show them how much you love him for him, and how you never want to leave his side.

Jack looks down at you, bringing your joined hands up to his mouth, pulling them together and kissing your knuckles.

“I promise you, no one here thinks that,” he starts, his words oozing with sincerity. “There is not a single person that matters to me in my life more than you. And absolutely no one’s opinion of you matters to me other than your own. Do you think you’re with me for the wrong reasons?” He asks you, waiting for you to answer him.

You shake your head no, breaking his eye contact.

“Hey, look at me,” he squeezes your hands that are still resting near his mouth, bringing your eyes back to his. “Then absolutely nothing else matters, okay? I know who you are, and you know who you are. Last time I checked, we’re the only two in this relationship, so that’s the only two people I’ll ever be looking to for opinions concerning my choices in this relationship, got it?”

You nod, a little embarrassed you were ever worried in the first place after his small speech, but still needing the hear his words nonetheless.

You’re still looking up at him, opening your mouth to tell him how much you love him when your stomach growls between the two of you, loud enough you nearly jump back.

Jack’s eyes flicker down to your stomach and back up to your eyes, the amusement in them making the blue shade shine even brighter.

“On that note, let’s go get you something to eat,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead before dropping one of your hands, the other still intwined with yours, pulling you out of the room behind him.

Jack led you down to the kitchen, digging around in the fridge to sneak you a snack before everyone sat down for dinner, knowing the meal wouldn’t be ready for at least another hour.

After he was satisfied that you weren’t going to starve, thanks to the small bowl of fruit he found, the two of you walked out to the back deck, joining everyone else.

The Lawsons had already arrived, Jim and Ellen standing on the other side of the large deck, conversing with Mr. and Mrs. Lawson separately.

Mrs. Lawson is a short, slim woman. Her hair is flawlessly styled into a ‘looks lazy but really took an hour’ up do, wearing a light purple, short sleeve pleated dress that fell just above her ankles, a simple pair of sandals on her feet.

Her husband is a tall man with salt and pepper hair, wearing a matching polo shirt and khaki shorts, a pair of Hey Dude brand shoes on his feet.

As soon as the two of you walked out onto the porch, Ellen was immediately halting her conversation to introduce you to the guests.

“Oh! There they are! Aren’t they just dolls? Look at them!” she gushed, walking over to greet the two of you.

You smile warmly at her, your relationship with Jack’s mom almost as dear to you as your relationship with your own. The two of you were able to sit and talk with one another during the hockey game her and Jim had come into town for the first time you met them. You both were invested in the game itself, considering all three Hughes boys were on the ice that night, but the intermissions were full of conversations and stories. You left the rink that night feeling like you had gained another mother, exchanging numbers with Ellen and promising to keep in touch. You now have weekly phone calls with Ellen, her interest in your life and well being matching that of her interest in her son’s.

“Mom, we literally saw you an hour ago on the boat, calm down,” Jack tells her, earning soft smack to his chest from you.

“Don’t be a grump, Jack. She’s telling us how good we look and you choose now to suddenly act like you don’t love being told you look pretty,” you scold.

Jack looks down at you with his mouth slightly open, putting on his best fake offended face.

“See, I told you she keeps him in check for me. Now I don’t have to carry the burden all by myself anymore,” Ellen tells Mrs. Lawson, earning a laugh from the woman standing just behind her.

You and Jack continue to have a small stare down until he conceded, choosing to flash a smile at you instead, sticking his tongue out like a child and earning a small giggle from you.

“Y/N, this is Deborah, but we all call her Deb. Deb, this is Y/N, my new baby girl,” Ellen breaks up yours and Jack’s moment, introducing you to Mrs. Lawson.

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you Mrs. Lawson,” you say, removing your hand from Jack’s so you could step forward and give a small, greeting hug to the woman in front of you.

“Oh honey, Mrs. Lawson was my mother-in-law, please, call me Deb,” she tells you as she pulls back from the hug.

“Okay, Deb is it,” you laugh, stepping back beside Jack.

“C’mere, I need a hug from you too, Jack,” she motions Jack over to her, your boyfriend walking over to give her a slightly longer hug than you shared with her. “My, you’ve grown up, haven’t you? Last time I saw you, you were just getting ready to declare yourself draft eligible. Now look at you, the real deal.”

Jack blushes as he steps back towards you, knowing how shy he gets when complimented.

He may be cocky on the ice and in interviews, but you’ve learned that when it comes to the people that are close to him, Jack is extremely humble. He turns a light shade of pink any time you compliment how well he played after a game, or when his mom calls to tell him she watched his game on tv and cheered so loud she woke their cat up anytime he scored a goal.

“Just enjoy playing the game, is all,” he slips his hand back into yours. You give it a light squeeze.

“Ron, quit talking golf and get over here! Come say hi to Jack and his girlfriend!” Deb turns and shouts to her husband behind her. Both Mr. Lawson and Jim leave their spot by the heating grill and walk over to join your small group.

“Jack, how are ya, boy?” Mr. Lawson walks up, pulling Jack from your hold, bringing him in by his arm for what you call a ‘guy’ hug, each having one arm slug over the other’s shoulders, their clasped hands trapped between their chests.

“Getting by alright. Happy to have a bit of a break. Couldn’t wait to show Y/N here the ways of the lake house,” Jack motions to where you stand slightly behind him.

“Oh gosh, where are my manners. Hi, sweetheart, I’m Ron,” Mr. Lawson sticks his hand out towards you, shaking it softly.

“Hi, Jack’s told me a lot about you two. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Lawson” you reference both of the Lawsons, repeating part of your greeting to Deb.

“Oh, no, Mr. Lawson is my father, I’m just Ron, dear,” he mirrors his wife’s earlier statement, stepping over to place his arm around her waist.

You chat with the couple a bit longer, noticing after a few minutes that Quinn and Luke are nowhere to be found. Neither was their daughter Ellen had mentioned earlier.

“Not to interrupt, but where are Quinn and Luke?” you ask just as Ellen finishes telling Ron and Deb about a recent cruise her and Jim had been on.

“Oh, they took Sarah out for a spin on the boat before dinner. She said she missed the water, so away they went,” Deb explains, looking over to Jack. “She’s so excited to see you again, Jack. She always talks about wanting to get across the bridge to see a game, but you know her, a workaholic and all.”

You sense a slight rigidness in Jack’s body language at the mention of Sarah. He responds with a simple “Yeah, that’s a shame,” not offering any other words about the mystery girl.

You were confused. You had thought Ellen said the boys were friends with Sarah growing up. Why did Jack tense up when she was mentioned? Had there been some sort of falling out? Was he not excited to see her? He hadn’t mentioned anything when you brought her up earlier, causing you to assume he just didn’t know much about her, having lost contact after they both were busy and didn’t have as much time to spend at the lake anymore.

As soon as Jack had finished speaking, you heard loud laughter coming from the long deck at the end of the house’s yard, seeing three figures quickly approaching the porch you were standing on.

“See, told you I could still beat you, just like when I was a kid!” you hear an unfamiliar voice call out, footsteps coming up the wooden stairs leading to the porch.

“Not fair, you didn’t tell me it was a race until you were already at the end of the deck,” you recognize the voice this time, Luke uttering his words between fast breaths.

As you look towards the stairs, you see one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen in your life step onto the porch.

She had jet black hair that fell to her mid back, perfectly pin straight. She had the greenest eyes you think you’d ever seen, and her tan skin was a shade that people usually had to be photoshopped to achieve. She was wearing a sundress similar to yours, but hers was a baby blue color, complementing her skin tone and hair perfectly. It fell right at her mid-thigh, and had a floral print running across the fabric.

“Hey, everyone. Hope we didn’t miss dinner,” she said, waltzing over to the wet bar to grab a bottle of water as Luke and Quinn make their way up the stairs, coming to stand a few feet from you and Jack.

“Oh, not even close, honey. You’re just in time. Your dad and Jim were just about to put the chicken on the grill,” Deb tells her daughter, beaming at her.

She walks over to join everyone, not stopping until she’s stood right in front of Jack.

“Oh, Jacky! I’ve missed you so much! It’s been so long!” she wraps him in a hug. His arms stay pinned to his sides, his body going rigid with discomfort. You notice the looks from Quinn and Luke, confused at their wide eyes.

He coughs, causing her to detach herself from his body, but not removing her hand from his shoulders.

“Well, that hockey training sure has been good to you, hasn’t it Jacky,” she continues, squeezing his biceps with a smirk before dropping her hands, completely ignoring you.

The second her hands leave his body, Jack is stepping back over to you, placing his hand on your waist.

“Uhh, Sarah, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, Sarah,” Jack says, squeezing you to his side.

“Oh! You’re the new girlfriend my mom was telling me about. How sweet!” she coos, placing her hand on her chest. “Jack, she’s so pretty. But, what happened to Macey? You know, the one with the pretty blonde hair? Oh, and the absolute insane body. Seriously, I need her personal trainer’s number,” she asks, looking around at everyone.

You think about your brunette hair and know exactly what she’s trying to do.

“Not in the picture anymore. Didn’t really like the fact that she kept sticking her tongue down some Philly player’s throat when she came to visit me during an away game,” Jack spat out, grinding his teeth.

“What a shame. I liked her,” Sarah waved it off, making a small pout with her lips. “But, I’m sure you’re great too!” she added as an after thought, flashing the fakest smile you’ve ever seen.

You feel a presence step up behind you, Quinn slyly whispering “ex-girlfriend” in your ear, suddenly making Jack’s body language and her backhanded warmth towards you make sense.

“Okay, well, time to go get the food on the grill. Food will be ready in around thirty,” Jim claps his hands together, sensing the need to break up the awkward moment.

“Oh great, I’m absolutely starving,” Sarah exaggerates her last word, turning and walking towards the sliding glass door leading to the kitchen.

You stand there, not knowing how to process what just happened, Jack’s grip on you as tight as ever. You look over to Ellen, who gives you a sympathetic look.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Deb sighs and shakes her head in amusement, completely oblivious to her daughter’s fake niceness and obvious flirting with Jack. “She’s something else, isn’t she? Such a little firecracker,” she reflects, nothing but adoration in her tone and on her face.

“Yeah, one that backfires into the innocent bystanders,” Quinn mumbles under his breath, earning a snort from Luke. Ellen shoots them a glare, darting her eyes towards Deb to see if she heard, but the older woman was still staring adoringly at her daughter in the kitchen through the glass doors.

Thirty minutes later, just like Jim announced, everyone was sat at the large outdoor table, food covering the large surface.

The food was amazing, the bowl of fruit from earlier long gone as you sat down to fill your plate, wanting seconds of almost everything.

“Jack, will you hand me the potato salad, I swear, I can’t get enough of it,” you ask your boyfriend who’s sitting to your right.

He reaches over and grabs the bowl, scooping a spoonful on to your plate for you. “That good? Or you want more?”

“No, that’s good. Gotta save room for dessert,” you tell him, picking up your fork to dig in.

Jack places his hand on your thigh, smiling over at the little happy dance you do when you scoop the potato salad into your mouth.

“Oh, I’m so full,” you hear Sarah say, raising her voice to make sure the whole table hears her. “I wish I could be like you, Y/N, I’d love to have seconds, but I just cannot hold another bite, I’m already so bloated as it is,” she places her hands over her stomach to emphasize. “You’re so lucky you’ve already snagged a man and don’t have to worry about watching what you eat anymore.”

You stop mid-chew, her words sinking in.

You look around the table, everyone looking at you. Deb and Ron are smiling at you, not at all reacting to their daughter’s words, likely not even understanding the connotation of what she just said. Ellen and Jim are looking at Sarah, their eyebrows raised in shock. Quinn is glaring at her while Luke’s mouth is dropped open.

Jack’s hand is digging into your thigh, his other hand closed, clenches in a tight fist on the tablet next to his glass of water.

You finish chewing your food and swallow thickly, placing your fork down and sliding your plate away from you.

“Oh, no, don’t stop on my account. I’d kill to be able to be as comfortable as you are. Not having to worry about impressing anyone anymore, just being able to know you’re loved, no matter what you look like,” she continues, taking a sip of her water to hide her smirk.

You bow your head, your face a shade of red you can physically feel, refusing to meet anyone’s eye.

Luke coughs, a faint “bitch” heard by your ears.

“Okay, I think it’s time we clear the table for dessert, shall we,” Ellen pipes up, her own smile strained.

“Great idea, let me help you,” Deb, either still oblivious or intentionally ignoring the hurtful nature of her daughter’s words, starts to stand.

“No, I got it,” Jack surprises you by standing, taking everyone’s plates and quickly stomping off of the porch.

You could feel the anger radiating off of him when Sarah was talking, probably choosing to leave the area before he said something he would regret.

“Here, let me help, too,” Sarah stands, taking a few food dishes in her hands and stepping inside behind Jack before anyone could protest.

The table is silent after she leaves. You sit there, debating on just sliding out of your seat and under the table, wanting to hide. Luke, who was sitting next to you, brings his hand over to rest on your shoulder, trying to provide some comfort.

You look over at him to see a concerned look as he mouths a silent “You okay?”, nodding your head yes, despite the heavy feeling in your stomach.

You look up again, straight at Sarah’s parents, wondering how they can be so ignorant about their daughter’s malicious words.

You meet Ellen’s eye, seeing a sad, pleading look, begging you to forgive her with her expression. You give her a small smile, shaking your head to tell her it’s alright.

Ron is the one to finally break the silence, looking around at everyone with a genuine smile, once again proving your suspicion they’re unaware of the shift in atmosphere.

“Ellen, please tell me you made your famous cheesecake. It’s been too long since I’ve had a slice,” he speaks, unable to read the room.

Ellen partakes in empty small talk with Deb and Ron about how she makes her cheesecake when you decided you need to go check on Jack.

“I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go help Jack,” you say flatly, standing from your seat and all but running inside, the urge to walk over and shake the Lawsons while shouting “your daughter’s a bitch!” in their face your cue to leave the table.

You enter the kitchen, seeing the dishes both Sarah and Jack brought in littering the counter, but neither one of them was to be found in the spacious area.

You walk through the house, calling out Jack’s name softly as you pass the stairs, making your way to the small sitting room at the front of the house.

“Jack, I don’t get it. What does she have that I don’t? What about her makes her any better than me?” you hear the sound of Sarah’s voice coming from the foyer.

“What the hell do you mean? Everything! She has everything you don’t!” you hear Jack exclaim, stopping in your tracks.

Were they talking about you?

“Jack, we were good together! We had fun. I don’t understand why you ended things between us. Hell, I took a job in New York because you said you were probably going to New Jersey to play. We could have been the new it couple of New Jersey!” it was Sarah’s turn to raise her voice.

Jack shakes his head, a dry laugh making its way out of his mouth. “What part of I didn’t want to don’t you understand?” Jack spits out. “You had fun. You chose to move to New York. You thought were good together. There was never any we in any of that.”

You can practically see the veins popping out on Jack’s forehead through his tone, even though they were out of view.

“All you ever cared about when we were together was the fact that I was about to play professional hockey. You didn’t care about me, you just cared about what I could offer you!” he shouts again. “The fact you just admitted you cared more about being the “it” couple more than you cared about wanting to be with me proves it.”

“Well, sue me for wanting to live the life of the rich and famous,” Sarah says, scoffing.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Jack huffs out. “Y/N doesn’t care about living the life of the rich and famous. She just wants me. She wants Jack, not ‘Jack Hughes, star forward, number one overall draft pick’,” he puts on his announcer voice.

“All my life, people have only ever cared about how well I played hockey. Every coach, every teammate, every girl. They all saw me as a hockey player. They wanted me on their team, or in their bed, because they wanted what came with me: attention and popularity,” Your heart breaks at Jack’s voice, never having heard him sound so deflated before.

“Hell, you introduced me to people as a future professional hockey player before you ever introduced me to them as your boyfriend,” he continues. “With Y/N, that’s far from the most interesting thing about me. When she first introduced me to her family, she told them I was her best friend’s brother,” he refers back to the first time you took him home to meet your family, the subject of hockey not coming up until your dad asked if he liked sports, only to berate him for not being a football player. Later that night he asked him how hockey worked. Your dad has never missed a Devils game since, either in person or on tv.

“Her favorite fun fact to tell people about me isn’t a stat, or how many hat tricks I’ve scored,” he keeps going. “It’s that I love to sing Shakira when I’m in the shower. Or that I’m the only other person other than her dad that has ever made her laugh so hard water has come out of her nose,” Jack lightly laughs.

“Hey, Y/N, everything okay-“ you hear Quinn’s voice rounding the corner.

Cutting him off with a “shhh” you place your finger on your mouth to tell him, and Luke who trails behind him, to be quiet, pointing to the sitting room where Jack and Sarah are arguing.

“So, yeah, I would say I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted out of me, but I’m not. I’m not sorry that I broke things off with you. I’m not sorry that I found someone that actually loves me for who I am. And I’m not sorry that I brought the woman that I plan on marrying here with me, and you just so happened to be here too,” Jack tells her, his voice still holding a slight trace of anger.

“I am sorry that I never told my parents what really went down between us, telling them we just agreed it would be too hard and we needed to go back to being friends, because maybe they wouldn’t have invited you over tonight. I am sorry that I didn’t take Y/N out for dinner, trying to avoid what’s happening right now. I am sorry that you can’t begin to fathom someone can see through your forced smiles and backhanded comments, seeing how cold and rotten you really are on the inside. And I am sorry that your poor, sweet parents were given such a malicious bitch as a daughter,” He finishes.

“You know, my mom said Ellen told her you showed her a ring, but I thought it was just a gift. You’re really going to propose to her?” Sarah asks, annoyance clear in her voice, spitting out her last word with unmistakeable disgust.

“Of course it’s true. Bought the ring months ago, been carrying it around with me every since. Showed mom the night she met her, told her I was serious about her and that she’s the one. I think part of me knew that from the moment I met her,” you hear Jack say, hearing the tenderness in his voice when the subject turns to you.

Your head whips over to Luke and Quinn, your eyes wide and your mouth handing open. The panicked look on their faces is all the confirmation you need to know that you heard Jack right. He bought you a ring. He bought you a ring and showed his mom. He bought you a ring and showed his mom and was going to propose to you.

Before you know what you’re doing, your body is leading you to the entryway where your boyfriend is arguing with his ex-girlfriend.

“Y/N, no, wait,” Quinn tries to stop you, but it’s too late.

“You bought me a ring?” you ask as you enter the room, seeing Jack and Sarah standing several feet apart from each other.

“Oh, great, the woman of the hour,” Sarah rolls her eyes at you, throwing her arms up and letting them fall to her side.

You shoot her a glare, not at all concerned about her comments from earlier anymore.

You turn your head to Jack, who’s face looked as panicked at Luke and Quinn’s.

“Jack, you said you bought me a ring. Is that true?” you ask him, begging him to answer you.

Jack gulps, nodding his head yes.

“Right…” is all you can say, trying to digest what’s happening.

You look back and forth between Jack and Sarah, your gaze finally landing on the unimpressed one of Sarah.

“Listen, I don’t care what happened between you and Jack however many years ago, but I don’t appreciate you coming to his family’s house and acting like a nasty bitch to me because you got dumped and I’m the one getting the ring,” you tell her, earning a shocked scoff from her. “So, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you took your nasty attitude and sad insecurities out of this house and elsewhere. I have something I need to discuss with the man that chose me .”

You hear the faint snorts of Quinn and Luke behind you, while Jack’s face moves from panicked to shocked as he looks between the two of you.

“God, you don’t have to ask me twice. All of this melodrama is giving me a headache. You’re not worth this. I can get any guy from the Knicks roster, I don’t need to waste my time on hockey players anymore,” Sarah says before she storms out of the room.

You watch her go, giving her a sweet smile and a wave on her way out.

“That was…the hottest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” Jack tells you, walking over to where you stood.

You roll your eyes at him, hitting him in the chest once he gets close enough to you.

“Ow! What was that for?” Jack asks you, rubbing where you thumped him

“For not telling me that Sarah was your ex-girlfriend when I was telling you how excited I was to meet her earlier” you exclaim while looking up at him, poking him in the chest with each word

“I didn’t want you to feel like you had anything to be worried about and get even more in your head about this dinner,” he tells you, grabbing your finger and pushing your hand down to your side.

“Yeah, well a lot of good that did,” you roll your eyes, bringing your hand up to softly smack his chest again.

“God, woman, stop hitting me!” Jack yelps again. “What the hell was that one for?”

“For buying me a ring only a few months into our relationship! And then for not telling me you were going to propose, you idiot!” you exclaim, throwing your arms around.

“Well, I don’t know if you know this or not, but most proposals are usually a surprise,” he tells you, grabbing your arms and holding them apart, preventing you from hitting him again.

“Still. Why would you buy it so soon into us dating, Jack? What if you ended up hating me once we hit six months, or you found out I snored and decided you didn’t want to share a bed with me for the rest of your life?” you ask him, earning a laugh from your boyfriend.

“I knew that you were it from the moment I met you. There’s absolutely no chance of me ever getting sick of you, or hating you,” Jack tells you honestly, the intensity behind his eyes causing you to believe his words. “Also, you do snore, and I think it’s cute, don’t worry.”

You try to hit his chest again, but your arms are still being held by his hands.

“So, is this a good time for me to say I never really liked Sarah,” Luke chimes in, reminding you that him and Quinn are standing in the entrance of the room.

“Luke, you’re such an idiot,” Quinn tells him, flicking him on the back of his curly head.

“What? It’s true. I liked Y/N the second I met her, but Sarah was always just a bitch,” Luke rubs the back of his head as he speaks. “Why do you think Quinn and I took one for the team and took the wicked witch out on the boat so we could keep her out of your hair for as long as possible?”

“Thanks, Luke,” you chuckle, shaking your head.

“Well, I guess it’s time to tell mom that she knows you’re proposing,” Quinn says, looking towards Jack.

“Oh, no, no one is going to know that she knows. I had this whole thing planned out, and I’m not letting Y/N ruin her own proposal,” Jack says, finally letting go of your hands.

“Do I at least get to see the ring?” you ask him, hopeful.

“Nope,” Jack shakes his head, popping the ‘p’.

You huff, crossing your arms and looking at him with a pout, until you remember his words from a few minutes before.

“Wait, you told Sarah you carry the ring with you everywhere, does that mean it’s here? In this house?” Jack’s face falls, eyes looking anywhere but your own.

“No…”

Your face lights up, looking towards the stairs before back at Jack, turning and making a run for your room.

“Oh no, you don’t!” he runs after you, catching up to you in no time.

He grabs you by your torso and swings you around, sitting you back at the bottom of the stairs as he guards them.

“Not fair, your stupid hockey speed and reflexes can shove it,” you pout again.

As you stand at the bottom of the stairs, Quinn and Luke watch the two of you, admiring how perfect the two of you are for each other.

Luke thinks back to when he decided to introduce you to his older brother, knowing he made the right decision, the two of you bringing out the best versions of the other.

And when he stands, hidden with his family as he watches his brother get down on one knee, proposing to the girl that stood at the bottom of the stairs, demanding to see her ring, he knew sneaking into Jack’s room and moving the ring to his own room was the right move, the shock on your face worth the two week long silent treatment you gave him when you found out what he had done.

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freshxsturniolo · 7 months ago

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4th july pt2! - chris sturniolo x fem!reader

pt1 here

“that chris by any chance?” your best friend tara says as she finally jumps into bed. you’re staying the night at jake, johnnies and carringtons place and you’re wrapped tightly under the duvet in their spare room. tara has been running around still with the three boys, but as soon as your phone altered you to that first text, you’d excused yourself.

you smirk as you look at her and she gives you an eyebrow raise.

“i didn’t know you were talking to him like THAT” she says now. “when i saw him spinning you around in the pool i thought nothing of it until i saw his hands on your ass.”

a laugh escapes you, your head sinking into your pillow as tara leans forward to hold your arm, laughing with you.

“i’m serious” she choked out. “i didn’t say a thing to anyone thinking i’d leave you both to it until you started practically fucking in the pool”

“tara!” you squeal. “we weren’t fucking in the pool!”

she laughs, that signature tara yummy laugh, and then rolls her eyes. “okay maybe i was being dramatic there but, jesus, he looks like a good kisser”

you chuckle slightly, “he is.”

“you could have invited him back here ya know, jake wouldn’t have mind. i could have slept somewhere else”

you’re listening but sending across your last text to chris, butterflies in your stomach at the flirting once again that now felt much deeper before shutting your phone off and placing it under your pillow, turning round to face tara.

“he wants to take me for dinner tomorrow”

tara eyes go wide. “oh fuck. wait. so this is more than just -“

she stops as she doesn’t know how to explain it, but you know exactly what she means. yes, for now, this is defiantly more than a one night stand. at least, you secretly hope. his words of being respectful could all be a plot. you might have dinner tomorrow and realise that actually, you’d be better off as friends. but for now, entertaining a thought of something more with chris sturniolo was making you giddy.

“yeah. i think so” you confirm.

tara slaps her head back onto the pillow and looks up at the ceiling.

“you did look cute together, im not gonna lie”

you smile as your mind goes back to the party just a few hours ago. you’re still drunk now, but after you’d got out the pool the drinking slowed down.

you had stayed in the pool for only a short while after, your hair and make up completely ruined yet you didn’t have a care. outfit completely soaked through. but the entire time you couldn’t deattach your lips. it’s like all that flirting and lack of alone time together had bought a force over you that neither of you knew how to stop. but when you realised you were the only two in the pool, you pulled him out. hand in hand.

your friends had noticed by that point, and a few typical claps and cheers erupted from them, which in your drunken state had only made you laugh. as tara had suggested, no one knew you and chris were actually talking as much as you were and you knew everyone around you thought it was just a drunken kiss. but as the night went on and you both changed, jake nice enough to let chris raid his wardrobe for some comfier and none wet clothes, you changing into your overnight clothes you’d already bought, you couldn’t stay away from each other once more.

the party continued on behind you, but you stayed firmly close to chris. he’d thrown on a pair of black ed hardy shorts that jake had no intention of ever wearing and you were in your short pyjama bottoms, and at every single moment from then your skin was touching. it started as sitting back in the circle you left, legs crossed and knees touching. which led to the occasional arm touch as you laughed at each others jokes. that lead to you leaning into him as you got tired, to eventually sitting inbetween his legs, his chest as a back support as he lay his chin atop your head as you spoke to the people around you. his hands around your waist and your hands clasped against his.

when it was time to leave, you made him promise to text when he got home as you walking him to the front door, but it was only second before he was pushing you against the wall. his hands under your jaw as your kiss deepened, and at one point you where sure that actually, scrap the dinner, he was going to end up staying the night or taking you home, before he finally pulled away, a breathless “i’ll see you tomorrow” escaping his lip before he turned to meet his brothers in the car.

you had not felt this way in a long time. had never had a guy treat you like an actual human being and not just someone to get into bed. so yes, tomorrow couldn’t come quick enough. hangover or no hangover, you were excited to spend some time with him.

"do you like him?" tara says now, looking at you, and you give her a smile.

"its too early to say, isn't it?" you ask, and tara rolls her eyes.

"im assuming you agreed to dinner tomorrow?"

"yes"

she laughs. "so yes. you like him. when was the last time you went to dinner with somebody?"

and you're laughing too, because deep down you know that chris might most defiantly become more than just a few dates.

tagged : @spencerstits @chrissturnsss

#chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #tara yummy #jake webber #johnnie guilbert #carrington usa

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venus-haze · 2 months ago

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God's Got a Sick Sense of Humor (Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader)

Summary: Your decision to dress up as a slutty nun for Halloween has unexpected consequences when you make the acquaintance of an equally attractive and disturbed priest. (AO3 link)

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. Not entirely spoiler-free, but if you’ve watched up to episode 6, you should be good! Also I couldn't find what the parish name was, so I made one up. The gif doesn't really have anything to do with the fic, I just like it🤭 Please look at the warnings before deciding whether to read this fic.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Non-con involving degradation, rough oral sex (m. receiving); ambiguous ending.

You knew early on in the night you had made a mistake in costume choice. The vinyl skirt started pinching your waist after less than an hour of wearing it, the nipple pasties were slowly peeling off despite your best effort, and the platform heels weren’t forgiving after several shots of tequila. The vinyl habit stayed in place with the bobby pins you used, but after a while, it felt like it was cooking your head.

Your friends found your plight funnier as the night went on, cracking jokes about how it was God punishing you for wearing the costume in the first place. Lisa had little trouble with her Tinkerbell costume, a green mini-dress and sparkly heels she pulled from her closet and a cheap set of fairy wings from the same Spirit Halloween you got your costume from. Julie’s Bridgerton-inspired costume seemed a bit out of place compared to you and Lisa, but she got a lot of compliments on the details.

For the limited the fun your little desert town had to offer, something was definitely missing from the night out.

“Why did Merritt say she couldn’t make it, again?” Lisa asked, the three of you walking down the street to the next bar you’d inevitably terrorize. All the usual haunts, where the bartenders knew your order and half the patrons were people you’d gone to high school with and definitely didn’t want to see again.

You shrugged. “I texted her earlier, and she said she couldn’t make it, something came up.”

“It sucks she doesn’t hang out anymore,” Julie said. “Did we do something?”

“I mean, her dad’s in a coma, and her mom’s working all the time with those gross murders going on,” Lisa said. “She’s probably the only one keeping things together at home.”

The three of you had known Merritt for years, your friend group becoming tight-knit as time went on. Getting carted to and from soccer games turned into sleepovers and late nights getting fast food. You got to know the Tryons pretty well over the years. Her dad was nice enough, and you always found her mom funny, if not a bit overprotective, but Lois always remembered your birthday.

“I’m gonna stop by sometime this week. It’s been way too long since any of us have seen her,” you resolved.

Lisa and Julie agreed, though you weren’t sure Merritt would appreciate all of you showing up unannounced at her house. You figured you’d be better off going yourself and seeing what the deal was with Merritt.

Stumbling over your platforms, you struggled to keep up with Lisa and Julie until you tripped and nearly wiped out on the sidewalk. You caught yourself on a nearby telephone pole, the lights from the nearby buildings blurring the more you tried to focus.

“Fuck,” you groaned. “I’m gonna call it a night.”

“Are you sure?” Lisa asked.

“Yeah, I’m gonna find a convenience store and then get an Uber home.”

“We can go with you,” Julie said.

You shook your head. “Don’t end your night early because of me.”

“Alright, text us when you get home.”

When the world finally appeared upright again, you looked at the nearby street sign, recognizing where you were, at least. Not far to the nearest shop that you were certain would be open late. You checked your phone for the time and felt especially lame. It wasn’t even midnight yet.

With a sigh, you turned down the street, opening your messages to your most recent text to Merritt. Your FaceTime request went unanswered, so you opted for an audio message instead.

“Hey Mer, it’s me. We missed you tonight!” You paused awkwardly, wishing you could actually talk to her. “Look, there’s a Halloween party tomorrow night, something out in the desert. It’s not too late to get a costume. We could go to the Spirit Halloween in the old Bed, Bath and Beyond—“ A catcall interrupted your rambling. “Look, just call me or something, at least let me know you’re alright? Bye, babe.”

The fluorescent lights in the store were almost headache-inducing, but you powered through for a bottle of Gatorade and a protein bar that you hoped would mitigate the hangover you’d inevitably have in the morning.

Gatorade in hand, you felt almost dizzy staring at the array of protein bars in front of you, wondering how there could even be so many and if they were really any different. A man walked down the aisle, standing a few feet away from you, though you didn’t pay him much mind until you grabbed a protein bar and noticed he was dressed as a priest.

“Hey, nice costume,” you told him.

“Oh, this isn’t a costume.”

You laughed. “Right.” Your inhibitions lowered, you gave him a once over, your gaze lingering on his handsome face, his muscular arms. “You know it’s a shame we didn’t run into each other earlier tonight, we probably could’ve won a couples contest or something.”

He smiled, though something flickered in his brown eyes that made your guts churn. Except, it likely wasn’t him, as you shoved what you were holding onto the shelf next to you and rushed out of the store.

You wretched, the contents of your stomach emptied onto the blacktop. Tears burned your eyes, your throat scratchy and raw by the time you were done. You felt a hand on your upper back, could barely hear the sound of a man asking if you were okay over the sound of blood pounding in your ears.

Glancing up, you were mortified to see the priest looking at you with concern, though disgust was nowhere in his expression.

He handed you the Gatorade you’d been holding in the store, apparently going ahead and buying it for you. Taking a swig, you swished some around in your mouth before spitting it on the ground. He gave you a handful of crumpled napkins as well, and you tried maintaining what was left of your dignity while getting yourself together in front of him.

You managed a mousy thanks, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Don’t tell me you plan on driving home,” he said.

You shook your head. “I came out here with my friends."

"And they just left you like this? Alone?"

"I told them I'd get an Uber.”

“They'll charge you double tonight," he said. "I can drive you.”

Accepting a ride home from a stranger certainly wasn’t the smartest choice to make, but he actually seemed to give a shit about your well-being. You agreed, if not for the fact that you were curious about him, and the horny part of your brain hadn't shut up since you saw him.

He kept his hand on your back as he walked you over to his car. Almost felt like his fingers were twitching against your skin.

Getting into his car, you noticed the rosary hanging from the rearview mirror, a saint card clipped to his visor.

“Oh my god, are you actually a priest?” you asked from the passenger seat as he turned the car on.

“I told you it wasn’t a costume.”

“Shit.”

“Father Charlie Mayhew, from Our Lady of Sorrows, if you don’t believe me.” He smiled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “What’s your address?”

After giving him your address along with your name, realizing you hadn’t told him yet, you rolled the window down about halfway, finding the fragrant odor of incense and cologne a bit overwhelming for your queasy stomach. The cool night air gave you instant relief, and you laid back on the headrest, keeping your eyes closed for a few minutes.

Father Charlie filled the quiet with a true crime podcast. Not a particularly odd choice, except that he was a priest, but Catholicism always lent itself to morbidity—his was more modern, you supposed.

“Have you heard about those murders around town?” you asked over the sound of a young woman giving the background of a triple homicide.

“Yes, our parish’s publication has been reporting on it,” he said. “I'm the editor, but one of our nuns is working closely with the lead detective on the case.”

You opened your eyes to look at him in disbelief. “Lois is working with a nun?”

“You know detective Tryon?”

“She’s my best friend’s mom,” you said. “I went to her house all the time growing up.”

“You must know her pretty well, then.”

“Yeah, Lois is one hell of a detective,” you said. “Still, I can’t imagine…whoever’s behind it must be depraved. What he’s doing—it’s not even human, it’s animal.”

“He?”

“I don’t think anyone but a man could be capable of that kind of barbarism, Father.”

“You might be right about that,” he said solemnly.

You drank more Gatorade, hoping to settle your stomach and ease your discomfort with the direction the conversation had taken. But you were the one who brought up the murders in the first place. All had some kind of religious connotation. No wonder the Catholic paper was eating that shit up.

Catholicism was always predisposed to an especially grotesque morbidity. Open wounds considered blessings. Bones of the holy displayed with reverence. Even bread and wine transformed into the body and blood of Christ himself. Whoever was behind the recent murders was either observant or well-read.

Father Charlie pulled up to your building about ten minutes later, and you internally sighed in relief when he turned the podcast off. You couldn’t wait to get out of the damn costume and into bed.

“Thanks, Father Charlie,” you said. “I owe you one.”

“Actually, mind if I use your bathroom?” he asked.

You shook your head. “‘Course not. Come on up.”

Acutely aware of the costume you were wearing again, it was far too tempting not to show off on the way up to your apartment, swinging your hips a bit more than was warranted, knowing he was right behind you, the tight skirt giving him a full view of your ass. You privately bemoaned the fact that he was actually a priest. What a fucking waste. A guy who looked like him had no business giving himself to Jesus and denying the rest of the world the pleasure.

You took a selfie by your front door, a tired smile and a thumbs up that you sent to Julie and Lisa.

“Just letting my friends know I got home safe,” you explained, noticing Father Charlie staring at you.

You could barely hide your self-satisfied smile when you unlocked the front door. “The bathroom’s through the kitchen, first door on the right.”

“Thank you.”

Making a beeline for your bedroom, the first thing you did was take your heels off. Your feet were still sore, with a mean blister that made you walk funny when you brought the heels over to your shoe rack. You could hear the toilet flush and the water from the sink run in the bathroom. Chewing on your lip, you were almost tempted to ask Father Charlie if he wanted to stick around. If you could just brush your teeth and reapply some makeup real quick, you'd be good as new.

You never got a chance to.

“So, why this costume?” he asked, startling you.

You gasped, turning around to see him leaning against the door frame. “Oh, um—I thought it was funny.”

“What’s funny about it?”

“Well, nuns aren’t supposed to have sex, and this costume is—”

“Pornographic," he said. "I mean, it’s something you get fucked in.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, shocked at his bluntness.

“Chastity. The sacred vow to God that all women of the cloth take, and you—” he scoffed to himself, stepping into your bedroom so he was only a few feet away from you, “you mock it.”

You knew you should’ve picked the sexy nurse costume instead. “I’m so sorry, Father.”

“You will be. Get on your knees.”

“Ex-excuse me?”

“Don’t be crude. This is about repentance.”

The searing venom in his voice made your muscles contort to his will, and you found yourself on your knees. You should have been fighting back, screaming for him to get out, but in your heart you knew it was useless. Back in the convenience store, you noticed his fit physique, and you could hardly count on your neighbors to give a shit if you were in any kind of trouble.

"Do you even know how to make a sign of the cross?" he asked mockingly.

You shakily did so, bringing your left hand to your forehead, then your chest, then to each shoulder. He scoffed, apparently you messed something up, but he didn't elaborate, instead ordering you to repeat after him. The prayer came jumbled from your mouth, 'through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault' over and over until his voice was ringing in your ears like a broken church bell.

The bulge in his pants was impossible to ignore. You kept your eyes focused on his face, even when you heard the sound of his zipper and clothes shifting. But you couldn't help it, not when he was pumping his cock right in front of your face. Your repetition dipped with a slight whimper when you glanced at the size of him, foolishly hoping it was just proximity making his length appear so intimidating and angry, as if it wanted to hurt you just like he did.

“Simply praying won’t do someone like you any good," he said abruptly. "You need another form of penance, something more tangible."

Shoving his cock in your open mouth, you choked at the intrusion, attempted to shift backward and finally make a run for it, but he caught you by the habit you so stupidly kept in place with bobby pins and hit the back of your throat.

"Why don't you give me ten Hail Marys?" he mocked, his looming silhouette appearing outright demonic through your tear-filled gaze.

You didn't know the damn prayer. Couldn't even try to fake it when all you could manage was muffled pleas for him to slow down, go easy on you, have mercy. Your jaw ached, throat burned at the force he used to make you take as much of his cock as you possibly could.

He didn't show any signs of fatigue, save for the beads of sweat that rolled from his face and onto your own. He grinned at that, at you, the position you were in. The church was full of sickos, and he was certainly no exception.

Making one feeble attempt to fight back, your teeth grazed his cock, and just as you tried to work up the courage to bite down, he jerked his hips, cursing under his breath.

"Take it," his voice a low growl as he came in your mouth, ignoring your choking, spit and snot and cum leaking down your face and onto your vinyl costume and exposed breasts, "take your penance, slut."

Father Charlie hardly gave you a chance to catch your breath when he pulled his spent cock out of your mouth. You practically collapsed on your bedroom floor, each gasp of air painful against the back of your abused throat. Grabbing you by the habit again, he hauled you over to your bed, bending you over the edge of it.

He shoved his fingers between your legs and scoffed at the wetness that coated your thighs, your thong doing little to contain your subconscious reaction to the way he treated you. "Oh, that's just shameful," he drawled. "You're not repentant at all, are you? Leading a man of the cloth astray, causing me to sin…why else would you have put this costume on tonight?"

Straddling you from behind like a dog, his body was heavy on yours. With one hand squeezing your neck, the other pressed something against your throat. You reached for whatever he was holding, freezing in panic when you realized it was the hair scissors you kept in your bathroom. He must have swiped it while he was in there. They weren't even that sharp, but the extra effort he'd have to put in to mortally injure you with them would mean it would be all the more painful for you.

“Depraved, animal, barbaric,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Is that what you think of me?”

You whimpered, feeling his cruel laughter rumble in his chest against your back. “No—no, you can’t be—”

“I was going to do something about that costume anyway, but having that mutual friend in common,” he mused, “I just can’t pass up the opportunity to leave Detective Tryon a personal message. Call it divine will.”

“I’m sorry,” you choked out.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You can tell God yourself how sorry you are,” he whispered.

“No—Father, please don’t—”

#father charlie x reader #father charlie mayhew x reader #father charlie mayhew #father charlie grotesquerie #father charlie smut #grotesquerie #charlie mayhew #father charlie #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez

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angelsleepinggurl · 5 months ago

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𝙞 𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. stepping into your early twenties you move to live on your own. A couple months later you're surprised when family man Miguel O'Hara moves next door. How do you manage to get this sex symbol into your sheets?

wc . 7,625

tags . miguel o hara x reader.miguel o hara x reader smut. all characters are 18+ years old. alternative au. non spiderman au. family man Miguel. dad Miguel. husband Miguel. swearing, cunnilingus, praise kink, blowjobs, phone sex, masturbation, shower sex, squirting. age gap. 18+ mdni!

.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.⭒☆

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : your girl by lana del rey

0:57 ————|——— -2:10

° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +

June 21st

You remember it clear as day. June 21st when they moved in. You’d just come back from practice and you were about to head downstairs to check for any mail when you saw it go down. The moving van pulled onto the street, tailed by a red family-sized car. Curiously you peer out of your bedroom window. Out stepped a tan middle-aged woman in a floral sun dress and a woven hat. A girl with her hair in pigtails and a lollipop in her sticky little hands. Then came him.

Him in all his beautiful glory. Him in his staggering height and muscular frame. His hair dark, curly, unruly falls against his well-defined cheekbones and, further highlighting his strong jawline. Just his appearance alone has put you in a trance, you’re glued to your window and you daren’t leave until he disappears from your sight. Even the way in which he moves speaks volumes about the silent authority that he carries.

July 1st

Temperatures rise gradually, and clothes get skimpier, at least yours do. But it’s all part of your plan. With a couple of failed attempts at making cookies, you’d finally nailed it, once your friend did it for you. You arrange them neatly on a plate, trying to ignore the little voice in your head that questions your motives. But you’ve already decided, and there is no turning back now. You let yourself in by opening his front gate, before closing it behind you, walking down the grassy lawn and in front of his door. The soft click of it closing behind you sounds like a finality as if crossing an invisible line.

You can feel your heart in your mouth. Tempering with a family man, you were up to no good, but you can’t help that you wanna have a little fun and see what you can do. A couple knocks on their door and you don’t wait long before the door opens, revealing the little girl and woman previously.

Fuck. Not who you wanted to see.

“Hi.” you greet cheerfully, hiding your disappointment behind a friendly facade. “I’ve noticed you guys have moved in next door, I’m Y/N and I wanted to give you these cookies as a welcome gift.” The woman smiles a warm smile in gratefulness and her child seems to be eagerly staring the plate of goodies down.

“Thank you so much, I really appreciate this, It’s so nice to see a friendly face out here.” she chuckles, pulling her child’s head close to her and stroking her dark hair.

You nod, your smile widening as you make small talk, though your mind is still on him. “It’s hard to get these guys to open up, takes a while, but I didn’t want y’all to have a bad impression of the area and I'm sure you’ll all love it here. Especially you.” you say, pointing to the child, who shyly turns away from you.

“Gabriel saluda a la simpática dama.” her mother gently prompts her and the little girl mutters a quiet welcome. For a brief moment, guilt twists in your stomach. This woman, her child—they’re kind and welcoming, and they see you as nothing more than a friendly neighbour. But the guilt is fleeting, replaced by a sense of determination. He’s set, devoted, maybe—but how devoted?

“She’s so precious.” you coo.

Sure, part of you feels bad, the man has a wife and a kid. He’s set and devoted, but you want to test the waters and see how devoted he is. So when they invite you to a barbeque night for the 4th, you seize your chance. Because while part of you knows this might be wrong, another part of you is already imagining what might happen if he looks at you just a little too long, if his smile lingers just a little too much.

The game has begun, and you’re ready to see just how far you can push it.

4th July.

The day tumbles into night dragging along its excitement and heat of the sun-soaked hours before into the darkening, night. Dense smoke from the barbecue rises slowly, curling and rolling into the night sky, wrapping itself around the gathering like a veil. It’s almost as if a hazy filter has been cast over the whole series of event, from the moment you step foot into their garden to the moment he offers you a drink. You can feel it—this strange, heady mix of anticipation and tension His significantly larger hand over the cool glass bottle, mimicking your cold sweat.

You take the drink from him, swinging it to your lips, feeling some of it trickle past your mouth and down your chin. A practised thumb swipes over it as your eyes reunite with his. “Thanks for introducing yourself to my wife. ” he thanks you, breaking the silence between the both of you- finally. “She really appreciates it and she’s glad you pointed out places for our Gabriel to play.” he finishes, eyes pulling away from the distance and back down to you.

“It’s nothing, don’t think anything of it.” now it’s your turn to look off into the distance, soaking in the scenery of others gathered near the table of roasted food. Their laughter mingling with the music that drifts from the speakers filling up the night. You’re unsure of when, but there is an eager flame dancing in a corner, adding a subconscious thrill to this gathering. The couple seem to have invited friends and family members and you start to feel a little out of place, like a fish out of water.

“Didn’t catch you name by the way?” he asks, widening his current stance, flexible in the subconscious hierarchy.

“Y/N, Y/N L/N.”

“Well, Y/N, you’re always welcome here, drop by if you need anything, we’d love seeing your face around.” perhaps it’s pure delusion or mere obsession with fantasy, but the tonality of his voice is hinting towards something. Towards something deeper and secretive than what the world has to know. Before you can thank him for his kind gesture, you’re interrupted by Gabriel running towards her father screaming “Daddy!”, and hugging his leg fondly.

Of course. You remember your place in this scenario. You’re simply their neighbour, nothing more, nothing less. You see it in his eyes as he bends down to pick up his daughter, his expression softening as he sways with her in his arms. He apologises to you, saying he has to leave for a moment. And you're alone again, placing the bottle to your lips once more.

And your heart shifts uncomfortably when the couple stands together to make an announcement, his arm wrapped around her waist comfortably,of course. As if she belongs there, and she does. You see where you stand in this.

10th July

You like to keep yourself busy when you aren’t drowned in school work, practising or doing your

part-time job and you accomplish that by journeys to the club with your friend, never intending to stay long or do anything of an impact, so this night when a new fellow accompanies you back home, you’re left with the tough decision of rejecting his advances.

“I’ve got a busy day tomorrow. “ you explain, leaning against your car, not entertaining his attempts.

“Well I can be quick baby, in and out.” he pleads, his voice slurring slightly as he leans closer, his hand resting on the hood of your car. The stench of alcohol clings to him, and you can tell by the way he’s using your car as a crutch that he’s far too intoxicated to be thinking straight. You sigh inwardly, already knowing this is going nowhere.

“I don’t like sloppy hurried work, I’d want for you to take care with me.” You explain, glancing at your nails bored, waiting for him to tire himself out and head home, so you can head to bed.

“I won’t be sloppy baby, promiseee.” he whines, his voice taking on a childlike quality that makes your skin crawl. The desperation in his tone only solidifies your resolve. This is exactly why you’re drawn to older men—men who know what they want and don’t need to beg or plead for attention. Men like him.

Almost as if on cue, out walks the man, his hair failing in front of his fair, this time much more unkept and messier than usual. Curious eyes observe his frame hidden under the loose-fitting shirt he’s wearing. The sound of the guy next to you complaining and begging again perks his attention and when he lifts his head to peak at the commotion he makes eye contact with you. There’s a certain satisfaction in knowing that he’s seen you, that he’s aware of your presence even in this awkward situation. your focus is elsewhere now, on the man who just drove away, leaving you with a lingering sense of longing. The night suddenly feels colder, and emptier, as you watch his taillights disappear into the distance.

23rd July

Blue skies overhead and the sun pressing down on you heavily, aggressively biting into your skin. The sun beats down relentlessly, turning your skin warm to the touch and making the air shimmer with heat. Your friends and you have hosted a pool party, to cool off and catch up. So you’re wearing your strappy swimsuit when you realise that your hose won’t turn or budge. You try with all your might but to no avail. No matter how much you twist and pull, the stubborn thing won’t budge. You put your full weight into it, your muscles straining as you give it another try, but it’s no use. The hose refuses to cooperate. Only one thing left to do.

You find yourself in front of your neighbours’ door, this time in a two piece piece swimsuit, that seems to hug you in all the right places, and the colour makes your features pop even more. You spend a couple of quick seconds adjusting the fabric only your body as finalising touches and fixing your hair, before lightly knocking on the door. It doesn’t take long before the door swings open wide, revealing a shirtless Miguel.

Bingo.

His broad chest glistens slightly with a sheen of sweat, and for a moment, you lose your train of thought. You flash a charming smile, “Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could help with my hose?” you ask, your voice sweet and innocent, leaving the question hanging in the air. You can see the moment he registers your outfit, his eyes widening slightly before they travel slowly over your body, taking in every detail. It takes him a few seconds to pull his gaze back up to your eyes, and when he does, he leans casually against the doorframe, trying to play it cool.

“What hose?” he asks, his voice a little rougher than usual.

“The hose in my backyard,” you explain, your tone light. “I need it to fill up my pool.”

“Your pool huh?” his eyes keep drifting all over, he’s clearly distracted and your plan is set in motion.

“Yeah,” you continue, feigning a bit of helplessness. “I’m having a pool party with my friends, but I can’t seem to get the hose to turn on.” You pout slightly, batting your lashes at him, hoping to nudge him into coming over, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

“I can help you turn it on.”

“Great!” you exclaim, clapping your hands together, a smile on your face. You lead him to your back garden and the short journey there is filled with silence. He makes his way over the knob of the hose, effortlessly twisting it successfully, however, no water comes out.

“Oh no. Is the water broken?” you ask, lightly shaking the hose in hopes of getting a trickle of water to emerge.

“It probably needs a minute.” he explains, staring at the green hose in your hands in anticipation. The two of you wait the minute, patiently waiting for any spurts of water, but nothing.

“I guess, my water system’s broke. I’ll just call the-”

“I can help you. It’ll only take a minute, it may just be a connection issue, no need to ring them up.”

“Really? Thank you.” you gasp, ecstatic. You exaggerate your relief, letting it show in your eyes, hoping to make yourself seem more appealing, more in need of his help. Now, he’s in your territory, your domain, and you’re determined to make the most of it.

He nods and asks you to lead him to your kitchen sink. He crouches down on the ground and opens the cupboards, hands going into the darkness searching for something.

“Can I get you a drink or something?” you ask him casually, but he refuses, saying he’ll be in and out. To your disappointment. But even as he works, you can’t help but notice the little things—the way his brow furrows in concentration, the way his fingers move with precision as he checks the pipes.

Minutes pass, and though you try to make small talk, he remains focused, determined to fix the problem. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he emerges from beneath the sink, wiping his hands on a rag.

“There, that should do it,” he says, standing up and giving you a satisfied grin.

You walk back outside with him, feeling a little defeated, but as he tests the hose one more time, water suddenly gushes out, splashing onto the ground with a force that catches you off guard. You can’t help but laugh in surprise, the sound is bright and genuine.

“Well, I guess I owe you one,” you say, turning to him with a playful smile.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it. Just doing my job as a good neighbor.”

But there’s something in the way he says it, in the lingering look he gives you, that makes you think this might not be the last time you find yourself needing his help.

2nd August

The days stretch on, each one hotter than the last, as the relentless sun beats down from a sky that’s perpetually clear, leaving the air thick with humidity. The heat has sapped the energy out of most people, turning every movement into an effort and leaving them sluggish, sticky, and desperate for relief. Miguel, too, feels the weight of the summer pressing down on him, the heat wrapping around him like a heavy blanket as he decides to spend his afternoon lounging on the chair in front of his house.

He’s settled in with a cold beer, the bottle sweating in his grip as he takes a long, slow sip, savouring the coolness against his lips. The golden sunlight bathes his skin, and for a moment, he lets himself relax, trying to enjoy the simple pleasure of the day. He’s asked his family to give him some space, just an hour or so to himself, away from the noise and the demands of the household. But even as he reclines back, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the harsh glare of the sun, he can’t seem to shake the feeling of restlessness that’s creeping in.

The heat is relentless, and the boredom is worse. The occasional car zips by, blasting music that fades as quickly as it comes, leaving him alone with the sound of his own thoughts and the distant hum of cicadas. Irritated, Miguel lifts his sunglasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if that might alleviate the discomfort. The overstimulation of the day—the brightness, the heat, the monotonous sounds—is getting to him, and he’s on the verge of retreating inside when something catches his eye.

His gaze drifts across the yard, past the sidewalk, and up to the window of the house next door—your window. His breath hitches slightly as he sees you there, your bedroom window wide open, allowing the summer breeze to flow in and caress your skin. You’re standing in the middle of the room, bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon, and you’re slowly, deliberately, peeling off your clothes. One item at a time.

Miguel’s grip on the beer bottle tightens as he watches, his heart beating a little faster. You’re completely unaware of his gaze, lost in your own world as you remove each piece of clothing with a languid, almost sensual grace. Your movements are slow, unhurried as if you’re savouring the act of shedding the layers, of freeing yourself from the constriction of fabric. Each piece falls to the floor in a soft heap, and with every discarded item, more of your skin is revealed, glowing in the warm light.

He’s hooked, his eyes fixed on you, unable to look away. There’s something hypnotic about the way you move, the way you seem to bask in the sunlight pouring through your window, your eyes closed in what looks like pure bliss. It’s as if you’re performing a private dance, one meant only for yourself, and yet here he is, captivated by every second of it. The way you twirl in front of the mirror, the sunlight catching on the curves of your body, makes his pulse quicken. He watches, entranced, as you take a moment to admire your reflection, your fingers trailing over your own skin, before you disappear from view, leaving him breathless.

For a moment, Miguel just sits there, his body tense, his mind racing. The image of you, so free, so unguarded, is burned into his memory, and he knows it’s something he’ll replay over and over again in his mind. He tries to shake it off, to convince himself that it was nothing, just a fleeting moment—but the truth is, he’s in awe. He can’t believe what he just saw, and yet he can’t let it go.

He refuses to lay back down, to pretend as if nothing happened. His heart is still pounding, his skin tingling with the remnants of the sun’s heat and something else, something far more dangerous. He sits up, wide-eyed, replaying the scene in his mind, letting it linger. There’s no escaping it now. The image of you bathed in sunlight, every movement deliberate and intoxicating, will haunt him. It’s a secret he’ll keep, a memory he’ll revisit again and again, long after the sun has set and the heat of the day has finally faded.

5th August

Adulting means spending heaps of money on things which you’d rather not, like new appliances. You start to wonder where the money goes after, and why so much of it goes too. Today is one of those days. After making a painful dent in your bank account on a new appliance, you finally pull into your driveway, the stifling heat inside your car practically cooking you alive. The summer sun has turned your vehicle into an oven, and as you open the door, a wave of heat rolls out, making the sweltering air outside almost feel cool in comparison.

With a sigh, you climb out, your body already slick with sweat. You circle to the passenger side, pulling open the door to retrieve the heavy cardboard box that holds your new purchase. The weight of it nearly sends you toppling over, and you grimace as you try to get a better grip. The box is bulky and awkward, the edges digging into your arms as you begin the slow, torturous journey to your front door.

Every step feels like a challenge as the heat presses down on you, sweat trickling down your back. You’re already dreading the short walk, and as you glance at the distance between your car and your front door, you can feel the sweat start to gather at your hairline, your muscles straining under the weight. With another heave, you start to shuffle forward, side-stepping to keep the box balanced, your arms already burning from the effort.

Just when you think you might have to drop the box and rest, a familiar gruff voice cuts through the oppressive heat.

“Need some help with that?”

You look up to see Miguel, your neighbour, stepping out of his car. His timing is impeccable as if he appeared just when you were about to collapse under the weight of the box.

“I saw you coming out and thought you might need a little help,” he says, his tone casual, but there's a hint of concern in his eyes as he takes in your struggle.

You can’t help but tease him a little, despite the sweat dripping down your face. “Why? Don’t you think I can do it on my own?”

He doesn’t seem to catch the playful tone in your voice, instead taking your words at face value. “No, it’s just that you’re bent over double and practically becoming best friends with the ground with how far down you’re crouching.”

“Ouch,” you reply with a mock wince.

“Sorry,” he says, though there’s a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I mean, if you don’t mind, I would appreciate the help.”

Without another word, Miguel steps forward and effortlessly lifts the box from your hands, making it look as light as a feather. You can’t help but feel a little envious of his strength as he carries it with ease toward your front door. You quickly rush ahead to open the door for him, grateful for the assistance.

“Where do you want this?” he asks as he steps inside, the cool air from the house hitting his face.

“Just on that countertop will do, thanks,” you reply, pointing to the kitchen.

Miguel sets the box down carefully, and before you can even think to ask, he’s already heading back to your car to grab the remaining items. He makes a couple more trips, hauling the heavy boxes as if they weigh nothing, and your mind can’t help but fawn over his effortless strength. There’s something undeniably attractive about the way he moves, the way his muscles flex as he carries each load inside without breaking a sweat.

With the last of the boxes shuffled onto the countertop, Miguel turns to leave, but you’re not quite ready to let him go just yet.

“Hey, would you like something to drink? It’s the least I can do to thank you,” you offer, flashing him a grateful smile.

He hesitates for a moment, but then he nods, a smile softening his features. “Sure, why not?”

You grab a couple of beers from the fridge, handing one to Miguel as the two of you make your way outside to the backyard. You find a spot on the steps, settling down side by side as he gulps down the cool drink, clearly appreciating the refreshment after the heavy lifting.

“You old enough to be having this beer?” Miguel asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he glances at you from the corner of his eye.

“It’s not mine,” you quickly explain, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze. “A friend left it over.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying your explanation entirely. “How old are you then?”

“Twenty,” you reply, your voice steady, though you can’t help but feel a bit exposed by the question.

“Right,” he says, his tone neutral, but you can sense the wheels turning in his mind.

The age gap between you is significant, but oddly enough, it doesn’t seem to bother him. Not at all. In fact, there’s a certain tension in the air, a silent understanding that something unspoken hangs between you both. The way he looks at you, the way he’s been lingering a little longer than necessary—there’s something there, something neither of you has acknowledged yet, but it’s growing stronger with every passing moment.

“You know,” he begins, his voice low and smooth, “you’re pretty resourceful, handling all this on your own. But if you ever need help again... you know where to find me.”

His words linger in the air, heavy with implication, and you feel a shiver run down your spine despite the lingering heat of the day.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you reply, your voice soft, almost a whisper.

Miguel stands, his eyes never leaving yours as he steps away, but there’s a promise in his gaze, something unspoken that leaves you feeling warm and slightly breathless.

10th August

It’s late when he’s in your car round the corner of your street. The outside world is still- void of movement. The only two being existing are the both of you. Concealed under the inky blackness of the night, that its shade has to conceal. It's thrilling, almost like a sparkler on your touch, ready to crackle at any moment. The moonlight basks him nicely, highlighting his masculine and broody features, and capturing his captivating essence. His dark curls run past his deep eyes that call to you from the other side. His lips, which lick themselves with sin, are ready to taint yours too. You’re finding it harder and harder to contain yourself.

The lights of the streets, aligned perfectly, flicker and twinkle before you, igniting your motives even more. Even the distance between the both of you is electrifying, scared that one singular brush of a finger or shared gaze between each other would cause worlds to collide and collapse. His deep chuckle, fills the small car, snapping back into the present moment. It’s like your body has a mind of its own the way your fingers retract when he calls your name. This is dangerous territory. The scene set up for you is seductive and alluring.

“You got a boyfriend?” he asks you, his gaze ever so slowly rising from the edge of your car seat into your calling eyes, and he holds it. He freezes time by holding the connection.

“No.” you crack a smirk, your fingers playfully dancing on the centre console, keeping your tone light and flirty, your soft voice barely coming out above a whisper, drawing him in.

“Really? A girl like you doesn’t have one? That’s new.” he replies, looking ahead of him, the curls atop of his head tickling the roof of your car, further highlighting his enormous build.

“A girl like me? What does that mean?” Every sentence shared between the two of you is mere foreplay and the both of you know it. It’s sick. Every syllable spoken is dragged out slowly and stretched by rising smirks.

“You know, a pretty girl.” he’s smiling at your reaction, your failed attempt of muffling the smile spreading across your face and the heat rising through your core to your face.

You’re charmed, “You think I’m a pretty girl?” you ask, a twinkle in your eyes.

“Very.” he responds, the both of you staring at each other’s lips, imaging each other’s flavour and the way you both taste. Not a sound passes through the vehicle, it’s deadly silent, the only sound is the ringing of your own heartbeat in your head, a signal of your misbehaving.

“Well,” you start off, your voice as thick as honey, eyes latched unto his lips. “I’ve never had a older boyfriend before.”

“Oh yeah?” it is slow and reverberating when he says that.

“I bet he would treat me so good, and look after me real well. Don’t you?” you play with your lips between your teeth, biting and tugging playfully.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had a younger girl under my care. But I assume, he’d treat you real good. Who ever he may be be.”

You hum, “How good? Tell me.”

“He’d make you feel things you’ve never felt before, make you see things you’ve never seen before, give you the attention you deserve.” his voice is low and grungy, he’s falling into your stick trap and you love it. You fail to realise the distance between the both of you diminishing, faces drawn closer and closer.

“Sounds good to me. Such a shame there isn’t a hunky older man to teach me these new things.” you’re whispering now. “Would you show me, Mr O’Hara?” The temptation. The beginning of his fall. You. Teasing him shamelessly in your car, you're displaying faux innocence, dripping in arousal. The use of the formality, ‘Mr O’Hara’ a name to which you’ve never referred him, flips the switch from within him.

Your lips crash unto his, finally bridging the distance between the both you. The kiss is fiery and hot, when your lips tangle with each other, breathing each other in, from the sheer desperation in the kiss. Sounds of lips smacking fill up the car very quickly, and the taste of faint liquor coats his lips, it's intoxicating and you’re reeling. His hand wastes no time cupping your face, holding you close to him. Finger’s nestle in his curly dark locks and the kiss deepens.

The only time the both of you separate is for air, gasping quickly as you pant for air, resting your forehead on his, and keeping him close by keeping your fingers interlocked in his hair.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” he breathes out, refusing to look up at you, knowing he’ll fall for the trap again.

“I know but you know you want to. It feels so right, doesn’t it?” you’re breathless and your lips have darkened in colour slightly, appearing rosier and more tempting.

“Fuck kid, the things you do to me.” he groans and he dives in again.

17th August

“Ngh- fuck.” you’re crying out as he thrusts into you mercilessly, drilling you deeper and deeper into your sheets. You're writhing and wriggling under his weighted grasp, as he uses one firm hand to pin your wrists above your head. Hair clings to your face, as you’re worked up by the intense pleasure. Back arching off the mattress as one stroke out the other’s seems to hit you just right, causing an involuntary reaction. Miguel is living for this, his eyes trained on your every move and shift, his ears memorising every one of your whimpers and cries. He’s relentless.

“Being such a good girl f’ me y’know that?” he says, his curls in disarray from the strenuous act, clinging to his forehead, his abs glistening in the sheen layering of sweat, from his dedication to making you feel like heaven. “You look so pretty like this princesa. Tan bonita. “

You’re fevershingly rolling and grinding your hips against him, eager and desperate for a sweet release. “Hold on, patience,” he growls, focused on getting you to cream all over him regardless. He can picture it now, your trembling figure spewing out a hot burst of yours and his warm white cum, making a mess of yourself. The thought of it alone nearly sends him over the edge.

“’ M gonna come Miggy.” you mewl out, toes curling from the heightened anticipation. You’re dripping and drenched. It’s absolutely filthy. From the moment you invited them into your home and tolerated the incessant foreplay, you’ve been needy and begging to feel him, to get a piece of him. So the moment when those lace panties came off, the man was met with a glistening, slick cunt, which is now responsible for the soppy sounds filling up the room. The sounds of your arousal. He’d call you a bad girl, for thinking of him so naughtily to get your pussy so needy, but he isn’t as innocent either.

“I know baby, I know, just hold out f’me, kay.”

“Fuuuckk.” tears are running down your cheek when Miguel lifts up of your legs, placing it over his broad shoulders. Your head falls back in pure bliss.

“Looks like we got a dirty mouth on our case. You’re gonna have to open wide for me.” he instructs and like a puppet you obey, opening your mouth more waiting for his thick fingers to invade. You’re slobbering all over the shamelessly, making eye contact with him as he ruts into you. “What a messy girl, is this how you behave when you get fucked, hmm?” his movement and sharper and faster and your body is limp, mind fogged. You forget to respond to him, too dicked dumb to do so.

“I asked you a question, you’re gonna fucking answer, is this how you act when you get fucked? Huh, princess? Like a sloppy slut? Or is it just with me?” you nod lazily in response, still moaning over the fingers in your mouth. Your eyes go wide when you feel yourself tightening, your walls gummy hot walls clamping down on him harder. Miguel removes his fingers from your mouth and his hand from your wrists, freeing them, his hands slipping down to your hips.

You can’t even scream about about your close approach because he can feel it and it's fast coming.

“Wanna come Miggy. Wanna feel so good.”

“Want me to make you feel good? Wanna come.”

“Yes, please,please,please,please.” you’re screaming and chanting ‘please’ as you feel your high incoming, and arch your back even further.

“Cum baby, come all over.” you screw your eyes tight as the knot in your stomach finally breaks and you’re cumming. With a couple of thrusts, Miguel follows soon after, his groans and your moans mixing together in the room. His dick is coated in a creamy white, leaving a ring around his base. You’re twitching as you come down from your high, gasping and trying to catch your breath.

With a soft kiss on your forehead, he congratulates you, “Did so good baby.”

23rd August

Sounds of the conscient stream of water fill up the soundscape of the bathroom, hot water, rushing down your back as you’re pressed against the wall, bent over for Miguel and his thick cock. You’ve got no stable supports, and your fingers are slipping off the wet wall, as you try to grip anything for support. It was a mistake for you to drag him along with you into the shower. What were you thinking? Expecting for him to remain composed upon seeing you all when and soapy, no chance. That’s how you find yourself screaming out his name as he places his large hands on your hips, using them to pummel you.

Beirfely, you turn to look back at him. A man on a mission, focused on your ass jiggling repetitively, it was hypnotizing.

“Go slower, slower.” you plead, dreading cumming early, having all of this fade so fast. But of course, the man refuses to listen to you, instead speeding up. Your words are cut off when he reaches deep, feeling as if he’s brushing against your cervix. You drop your head, your mouth following and you scream silently, thanking the Lord above for this blessing of man. One of his hands runs up your back, his thumb slowly stroking it. Bouncing back on his dick, your hips push back every time he pushes in, making you go dizzy.

“Atta girl, just like that, you eager to come on my dick huh?” he says lowly. You’re biting your lip as you nod, that is all you can think about. Your back arches as he speeds up, clenching down on him, warm walls giving him a tight squeeze, making him drop his head back as he lets out a low guttural groan.

“Fuck you’re sexy. Think you can come for me?” Not much else is aid when after three more strokes you're crying out his name, sounding like a sweet melody in his ears.

24th August

“Nice and slow princess, you sure you can handle it?” you’re gargling around his thick cock as he pushes your head down, forcing you to take him all. Making a mess as your saliva coats and lubes his hard-on. Your eyes are shut tight and your hands are gripping his thighs as he uses your hair to bob your head up and down his length. “There we go, such a pretty girl.” he coos, staring down at you, in awe at your determination and persistence to carry this through. Initially, he would’ve been fine with directing all his attention to you, but you didn’t want to seem like a quitter, you didn’t want to prove to him that you were a kid after all and he wasn’t right for you.

“You like that? Yeah, take it all in baby. Fuck” You feel a familiar heat pool in your panties, slowly dampening them. You fail to notice, that one of your hands has slipped down to soothe the building ache until he chuckles. “Don’t worry baby I haven’t forgotten about you. Gonna take real good care of you real soon.” He leans his head back, feeling his high approaching. His incessant repeating of your praise intertwined with praises of your good work seems to be working you up even more, the ache from before now developing into an urgent and deep throb. You moan, just thinking about it.

“Dirty fuckin girl.” he groans, taking his hands off your head and putting you in charge, his hand instead collecting all your hair. You hollow your cheeks and bob your head up and down, turning it to the side occasionally to sensually glide your tongue up his length, maintaining eye contact with him through watery eyes. “Fuck princess.” he groans. “ Want me to cum all over your face princess?” you moan in agreeance, feeling yourself throb in anticipation.

He hisses before pulling out of your mouth at the last minute, helping himself by finishing with a couple of strokes from his own hand. “Open wide baby.” You stick out your tongue ready, and hot spurts of coming land on your face, some coating your awaiting tongue too.

“Fuck you look good like this.”

26th August

You would say that you’re surprised that this man is a master pussy eater, but you’d be lying. He has successfully proven numerous times that he’s simply a sex god. So when your fingers are pulling on his hair for dear life, he isn’t surprised. With every flick of his tongue over your sensitive clit, you’re rolling your hips, getting his nose to nudge against your clit too in the mix. “Can’t go anymore, baby.”

“Why not, just wanna see you cum all over again, you look so perfect when you do it.”

His tongue laps over your sensitive bud again, slurping up and collecting all your juices and you’re crying from the intense pleasure wriggling and writhing again.

“So good.” you groan, leaning your head back and falling into the pleasure, letting it consume you. His hands are grabbing your thighs forcefully whilst his thumb is simultaneously grazing the flesh. He’s passionately making out against your soaked cunt, not minding that you’re dripping unto his chin. He loves it.

“Wait, wait, I’m gonna come, ‘M gonna come, gonna come.” you tell him too late, because when you do, you’re not creaming like you usually do, but instead a clear liquid sprays out. Everywhere.

“Well, you may you didn’t come, but you definitely squirted.”

28th August

“Rub that pretty pussy for me. Just like that.” his voice says through the phone, watching intently as your fingers repetitively circle over your clit, your speed slow and teasing, you bite your lips to suppress your moans, your drenched hole fluttering around nothing. Miguel has finally got himself a free house, but his wife’s suspicions are arising, not towards the two of you, but towards Miguel’s new sneaking out habit and leaving the house more than he usually would. Usually, you would feel bad for the mother, getting neglected by her husband and watching him distance himself from her, leaving the burden of their child unto her, but you were having too much fun with his married man. With the way he fucks you, and holds you and whispers dirty things in your ear- tainting your innocence. Your head is reeling from all this new attention, so you don’t think you’ll stop anytime soon.

“Fuck.” a soft groan comes from his side as he watches you devilishly slip your finger into your warm, desperate cunt. “Did I tell you you could put you’re fingers in, huh?” Miguel on the other end is pumping himself to the sight of you, needy and depraved. No matter how many times he’s been all up in your cunt, or had your gummy walls wrap around him, he can never seem to get enough. There’s something about you that pulls him back, you’re not just some option on the side for him anymore, but now more like a drug, the things you’re doing to him.

“Don’t care.” you giggle softly, pumping your fingers at a faster pace, rolling your head to the side. “I’m horny and you’re not here to do anything about it.”

“Watch it. We’ll see what I’ll do when I get back.”

You arch your back as your fingers finally graze your G spot, causing you to moan out. Your fingers are covered in your slick. “Wish you were here to fuck me, Miguel,” you whine, not knowing the effect this has on him. If he could, he would run out of the house take you right then and there, stuff you full of him and watch as you get fucked dumb by him. You’re teasingly moaning louder than usual to work him up, but your mind can’t help but fill with a picture of him having his way with you, fucking you rough. “ Fuck Miggy, need you right now.” you moan out, your fingers pumping into yourself faster.

“Maybe if you come all of those pretty fingers I might consider it.”

“Mmhg shit, I can come for you, I can come real hard.” you put your other hand to good use, to circle your clit, the feeling immediately increasing my tenfold, now you’re really crying out, head getting clouded by pure lust and the urge to reach your high.” With a few more pumps and circles of your fingers, you release all over your fingers, laying back on your bed to catch a breath as warm cum ooze out of you.

“Come here and show me the mess you’ve made baby.” you don’t hesitate to sit up and grab your phone, angling it to reveal your white fingers. “Put em in your mouth and suck real good.” you follow his command, swirling your tongue around your fingers and sucking them clean, before taking them out of your mouth to show him the finished result. “Atta girl.”

“Look at the mess I made.” you bring your phone to your glistening cunt, absolutely covered in your arousal, your hole still leaking cum from your high, and your puffy clit.

“What a good girl.”

August 31st

The both of you knew this day would come. The last day before you returned back to college, the day where you’d have to say goodbye, but it happened all too soon. You almost wish that something, anything would happen to not have to pull you out of this situation and from the ecstasy you’re feeling. The room has picked up the scent of sex after all the rounds the both of you have endured, fucking for hours on end. The sounds of skin slapping and bed creaking has filled the room with pap, pap, pap’s. Your nails are digging into his back, definitely leaving him marked up with your scratches against his board back and he pummels into you, your body practically clinging unto him as he fuck you into oblivion.

“Gonna miss you, baby, you know that?” he says, placing gentle kisses on your hot forehead, some strands of your hair clinging to your face.

“Gonna miss you too,” you respond, pulling him closer as he reaches deeper and deeper, further and further into you. You place your lips on his neck, passionately sucking on it, with the intent of leaving a mark.

“You naughty, naughty thing, what have I told you about shit like this.” you ignore him anyway. Miguel has always had a problem with being evidenced. The last thing he wanted was for his wife to catch an accidental glimpse of it and start pointing fingers, but as this was a farewell gift, he let the scratching slide. Once successfully leave your mark, you giggle. “We’ll see who’ll be laughing in a second.”

In a second you’re moaning louder. There’s something that he’s doing that's working even better than a couple of thrusts ago, and you don’t know what it is. You thought you were already at 100% with him, but you suppose you truly underestimated him. Now he has you screaming his name, pleading and begging like prayer- music to his ears.

“Oh fuck. oh my fucking God.” One thing Miguel loves about you is how vocal you are, it fuels him, so whenever he hears your pleas to keep going or to stop because it’s too much, he carries right on. You’re high up with the way you’re being fucked, his hips rut into you and soon you’re unable to even scream out loud, all of them turning silent.

“Yeah, who's laughing now.” he chuckles, as you lay back on the bed, gripping the sheets beneath you. He takes his hand to your face, brushing the hair out of it before placing a is on your lips and you’re melting into it. The two of you don’t usually kiss, keeping it strictly to fucking, but this time it’s different, this one is different. Contradictory to his pace, you lips are slow and gentle as he savours your taste and your lips for the last time.

This truly is the end.

SEPTEMBER 1ST

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +

count how many times i said fuck. miguel is sooooooooo sexy oh mi god. please give this the love it deserves i acc spent ages writing this.

#wattpad #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel 2099 #miguel o hara #miguel o hara x reader smut #miguel x reader smut #atsv miguel x reader

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sirxlla · 1 month ago

Text

Naughty List 🎄

----------------------------------------------------

Warnings: NSFW, Unprotected, Female Reader, It's fairly long.

Prompt: Buying him a special Christmas gift.

Notes: italics are actions and thoughts, i'm a new writer, so i'm trying to do what might be good layout? pls Imk what you think of the story or anything really in the comments, i'd really appreciate it

- Happy Holidays/Merry Christmas and with all that said it's all under the cut and -

Things have been quite rough recently with the holidays fast approaching and his ex Tommy trying to come back in his life even though he was happily in a relationship with you. The holidays were horrible for any sort of first responder, if you asked any of them they would tell you the busiest nights of the year are Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas followed by maybe the 4th of July in there. Due to all of that happening of course he was stressed out. As of recent he'd been very distant just due to how stressed out and what little energy he had.

You didn't know if this was a good idea or even if he would be up for it considering it because of how things have been lately. Not that either of you have any issue with one or another but due to the lack of time and energy he's been having. Regardless of that you had happened to stumble upon a skimpy little Santa dress while Christmas shopping online, a smile filled your face as you thought that maybe it was just a bit cliché but maybe stupid enough to get him to smile. Even if nothing else a smile would let you know it helped his stress even just a slivver, now if something did happen? That might make a world of difference to the tension in his shoulders and the stress that seemed to linger in the slight darkness around his eyes. So you ordered it along with the other gifts you had picked out for him and a few other people.

A few days past and you forget about it entirely. Things have been busy so you completely forgot to check when it was going to get to yours and Buck's shared apartment. Of course you and Evan had promised not to open each other's packages because of the fact that they could be Christmas presents for eachother so he brought the packages in when he got home from work and set them down on the kitchen island. He was shortly followed by you coming in about thirty minutes later with groceries. You look down at the table as you brought in the groceries in that were slowly cutting off your circulation to your fingers and remember exactly what you bought. The smile fills your face again prompting you to put groceries up as quickly as you can. You hear him holler that he's getting in the shower and shout back a word of acknowledgment.

Tearing open the white baggie with the Amazon logo across it that you were sure contained the little Santa dress, you find exactly what you ordered a skimpy little Santa dress that came with some cute little stockings as well as a Santa hat. Surprisingly it was a pretty good deal and the quality feels fairly nice and soft. So of course you slip into it while he's preoccupied, zipping it in the front where the zip was. Although it was odd that the zip was in front it didnt look bad at all and it fit surprisingly and exceedingly well.

The other gifts you set aside in their boxes so that you can wrap them at some other point right now that wasn't the priority in your mind. As soon as you heard that shower turn off your smile got bigger because this was either going to make him laugh, make him want to let him stress out in an entirely different way or he wasnt in the mood and would be annoyed. You knew that the last one that filled your mind would most likely be unlikely because even if he was feeling like shit he was always a kind, optimistic and easygoing person.

'Of course that is unless he's not thinking about curses.' You smiled as you thought to yourself about a few Halloween's ago when you were just friends and he was convinced he was cursed. You weren't certain about the idea of curses and such but so much had happened that Halloween for it to be even remotely coincidental.

The sound of him getting out of the shower breaks you from your thoughts. Once he leaves the shower and enters the bedroom you can see him with his back turned to you, the towel tied around his waist as he rummages through it to get boxers out of his dresser.

A sly and mischievous smile feels your lips as you put your arm against the doorway and slightly lean against it.

"Ho, Ho, Ho, Ho, Ho. I was making my list and checking it twice when I found-" You burst into giggles as soon as you see the smile graces his face as he turned his head to face you. You had never done this perfectly before, something about role-play sometimes just made you burst into laughter when you tried to be serious. You wete never making fun of anyone who did this more often when you laughed about it. You just relished in the fun of it and the thought of being able to play with Buck like this due to his accepting and kind nature.

"No, no. Continue." Evan stiffled a laugh and tried to hide a smile so bright and happy which made your confidence brighten a bit. God that smile meant the world and could make you feel like you were standing on air or it could bring you to your knees like a puddle.

"Well I was making a list and checking it twice when I found you had been put on the Naughty List. Have you been doing something that I'm on aware of Mr. Buckley?" You had taken a breath to stiffle your laugh before you started talking. The tone of your voice trying to be entirely serious and get into the role of 'Santa' a bit.

"I have been quite good this year, Santa..." his smile widened as he sauntered closer to you. Evan's hands quickly finding purchase on your hips, the soft almost velvety red fabric beneath his fingers. His smile widens as if it was even possible to get any wider as he starts gently massaging your hips before he brings his mouth down to your ear, his lips brushing against your skin.

"...but you know, my girlfriend...she definitely peer pressures me into a few naughty things here and there, Santa. I'm for sure she's on the naughty list but please, oh, please, for me, Santa put us both on the nice list. I'll do anything." He teasingly begs with a joking tone into your ear with a clear sound of lust and dominance gracing his tone.

Due to how tired he'd been it had been a bit since you had seen his dominant side but it was definitely here now, clear as day in his eyes as he is pushes you onto the bed before finding his way betwen your thighs using his right forearm to the side of your head to hold himself up above you. The last thing he'd ever want to do is squish you beneath him.

"Anything..." He whispers against your lips, a smile gracing both of your faces as he gently and languidly kisses you deeply. Your hands gently caressing his face and the slight stubble left there. He shaves in the mornings before work so it was quite common for him to have it most nights but you had never minded one bit.

"Dear Santa, think you could use a little naughty in your life..." Buck teased with a joking tone as he pushes his knee between your thighs and slightly into your core earning a moan that slipped so easily from your lips to between his, it had been a while so your body was already ready and excited for whatever his little mind concocted.

"See? What did I say?" He smirks at the sweet noise that escaped your lips. The towel around his waist very clearly slipping off his hip as he his brought his lips to the exposed cleavage the little Santa dress left uncovered. He slowly pulled at the zipper at the front of the dress exposing your breasts a bit more before attaching his lips gently around your nipple slowly rolling it around with his tongue. His knee slightly grinded into your core with a slow pace. Your hands found themselves in his wet hair gently massaging.

You could tell his was still tired and you didnt expect him to ravage you like a caveman and besides this gentle dominance was more intimate and close in your opinion than any hot rough sex you had ever had with anyone. Tender loving took more patience and care and Evan just loved taking care of you as you did him; Passionate and slow sex never failed to leave the both of you satisfied. You feel him start to move lower with his kisses as he slowly unzips the front of the dress working his way down and by the time he's nipped and kissed his way down to your panties you stop him.

"Ev, Baby...I want you, not your mouth." You said as you gently and kindly guided his mouth back up to yours and slowly removed the towel from his waist with one hand, letting it fall off the bed before wrapping your arms around his neck. The kiss was languid and soft as Buck held himself above you, still laying between your thighs. His free hand rubbing gently at your nipple, squeezing and massaging your breast earning a few more instinctual noises from you.

"I love you." You whispered, of course it felt random but you always felt the need to reassure him whenever you felt like saying it; you knew the stupid rule most people apparentally had said that you shouldn't say 'I love you' during sex or some shit but as stated before it was stupid. You never said I love you if you didnt mean to anyone let alone Evan. Buck wasn't just his body and you could understand the difference between love and lust. He regains your attention from your thoughts very quickly when he reaches down to rub your clit gently with his thumb though your panties earning a soft mew from your lips. Buck's smile just lights up at the sound.

"Jesus, Baby. You're so worked up, if I'd known you were so needy Id've-"

"Shhhh....Dont." You whisper gently cutting him off before kissing him. The last thing you needed was him blaming himself for you being a bit pent up.

You reached down finding him, gently stroking him, your thumb slightly brushing the tip of him earning the sweetest sounds from him. You reached down to yourself and moved your panties to the side before you slowly guided his body into yours. His eyes gazed into yours and yours back into his. The pace was slow and initmate, your arms wrapped around his torso as his hips deeply and languidly rocked into you. Your eyes not leaving his but for a few seconds on occasion to look down between the two of you as the both of you moan and whimpered in pure bliss of one another. His hair still wet as your hands worked their way through the strands gently in massaging his scalp.

With the way everything was stress-wise and as long as it had been, it was clear to both of you that you both would finish quicker than you would like on a night like this. Usually, the both of you on intimate nights could go for what felt like hours but it was clear both of you wouldnt be making it that long as his hips rocked into you with purpose and depth. Of course neither of you were upset about it, always just content to be with one another.

"I'm close, Baby. You want me to-"

"It's fine, I wanna feel you." You whisper against his lips as you cradled his head not wanting him to leave your body before he finishes this time. He continues the leisurely but deep pace of his him inside you as he feels your walls tighten around him.

"I'm-" You start but you're cut off by the sound of his voice.

"I know." He says gently with a smirk against your chest, that was one thing about Buck is somehow he could always tell exactly what to do with your body and exactly how it was going to react. It was refreshing the way he cared about you and the way he would always take care of you before even beginning to think about finishing himself. That band in your abdomen that had been building slowly snaps as a wave of white washes over you, your back upward so your chest is pressed to his. Evan moves his mouth back up to yours to capture the sound that was escaping your lips before groaning into your mouth with full satisfaction and pride.

After a few moments of silent slight panting as the both of you came down, you whisper to him "Merry Christmas, Baby." You smiled as you massaged his scalp, his body on you like a weighted blanket as you gently massaged drying hair.

"Am I on the Nice list now, Santa?" He smirks as he jokes.

"Well Naughty boys dont get presents and I'm sure you've earned at least a few." Smiling as you hold his face gently tracing that little bit of stubble again.

Masterlist

#evan buckley x reader #evan buckley #911 show #oliver stark

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sweetsungiie · 5 days ago

Text

Stolen Glances

|situationship!Sunghoon x f!reader, (kind of) toxic!Sunghoon, enemies to lovers (but not really)|

|warnings! cursing, mentions of alcohol and smoking, alcohol consumption, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), smut with plot, piv, protected sex, slight degradation and praise, minors dni! , pure filth so have fun|

|wc about 8k|

“I just don’t see why we’re throwing a ‘going away’ party, he’ll be back in like two weeks? Isn’t this a bit excessive?” With a roll of your eyes you let out a sigh from the back seat. Your fingers found the hem of the black mini skirt adorning your thighs, messing with it more the closer you got to your destination.

“It’s not just a going away party, ok, it’s also a good luck party! Sunghoon’s going to Nationals this is a big deal and enough reason to celebrate, not that Heeseung and Jay ever really need a reason to throw a party.” Julie responds from the front seat with an excited smile on her face.

“Okay but why do I have to come? Sunghoon and I can’t stand each other in case you forgot.” Outside the car window you notice the familiar street signs and houses leading towards the guys house, you knew you were approaching their street and you couldn’t ignore the nerves floating around your stomach.

Sunoo groans from the passenger seat as he shifts his body to face you in the backseat. “Yeah, yeah, you hate each other but you’re also two grown adults in the same friend group so suck it up. Heeseung and Jay invited you and Sunghoon is very much aware. If he truly didn’t want you there he would have said something but he didn’t because he knows we’re all friends. It’s a big party so you probably won’t even have to speak to him.”

Of course you couldn’t tell your friend the real reason you preferred to stay home tonight so you would just have to suck it up and attend this party with a fake smile on your face the entire night and just hope Julie wants to go home early.

Sunoo wasn’t lying when he said this was a big party. You were still partially down the street and you could already see a line of cars parked on the side of the road. “Damn it, I knew we should have taken an Uber. Where the hell am I supposed to park now?” Julie jerked her head from left to right but it seemed the entire street was full of cars with no space in between.

The blonde haired boy in the front seat only smiled brightly and pointed down the street, “Luckily I thought ahead. I called Soobin and he said we could park in his driveway. One of his roommates is out of town for the weekend so there’s an extra spot with our name on it.” Julie doesn’t hesitate to pull into the familiar driveway and before you knew it you found yourself walking through the doorway of a house you knew all too well.

“There you are! We’ve been looking for you guys.” Jay is the first to greet you once you’re inside, his arm resting around a taller boy with dark black hair. You recognize him as an underclassman, the name Niki sounds promising but you’re not sure so you just smile kindly at the two of them.

“Now this isn’t exactly role model behavior, Jay. What will your underclassman think?” Julie shakes her head at him teasingly to which Jay just chuckles in response.

“Nah, I’ve got a close eye on Riki, don’t worry about him. I’m getting him some water now. Man of the hour should be in the living room, think he was mid game with the others. I’ll be right back.”

You held any further comments until Jay and the underclassmen were out of earshot, turning your head to watch them walk away before dropping the forced smile on your face. “Man of the hour? As if his ego wasn’t big enough.”

“Play nice for a couple hours, you’ll survive. I’m going to look for Soobin and Beomgyu, bye girls.” Sunoo smiles and waves as he turns and makes his way deeper inside the house.

“Come on, we can’t stand at the entrance all night.” Julie grabs your arm and pulls you in the direction of the living room and sure enough, there he was. Standing around a rectangular table scattered with red solo cups were the group of boys you had grown so fond of and Sunghoon was there too. The taller man was standing at the end of the table, a ping pong ball in his right hand with Jake hyping him up from his left side as he was about to toss the ball. He tosses it and to no one's surprise, he makes it into one of the cups making Heeseung, who stood at the opposite end of the table, take a drink.

“Hey, nice! Hee you’re slacking.” Julie cheers with a laugh. Suddenly their eyes were on the both of you, no longer focused on the game of beer pong. You smile at the others kindly before allowing your eyes to drift over to Sunghoon, his eyes sparked with something you couldn’t explain but chose to ignore.

Sunghoon quickly recovers, smiling brightly at Julie as he straightens up. “Julie, good to see you as always, thank you for coming.” His gaze shifts as his eyes meet yours again, this time a bitter look paints his features, “Y’n, you didn’t have to come all the way out here for me, seriously you shouldn’t have.”

You felt a sting at his words but don’t let it show, instead you smile back, “You guys never really need an excuse to throw a party but celebrating you going away? How could I refuse something so sweet?”

“Is that why you got all dressed up? Is that all for me?” He teases whilst dragging his eyes up and down your figure in front of everyone, but you don’t take the bait, instead you take the cheap shot that you know will come back to bite you but that's what he gets for ignoring you for the past week.

“No, actually I remembered Heeseung said he liked this skirt on me once. What do you think, Hee? Still like it?” You spin around with a smirk on your face, stopping once you were facing Heeseung directly. He stares at you with a confused look on his face and his lips move as if he’s struggling to find the right words to say. You let out a giggle and slap his arms softly, “Don’t worry! I’m just teasing, I know I look good.”

Heeseung chuckles and shakes his head at your humor, “When don’t you look good, Y/nnie.” His hand reaches up to ruffle your hair slightly which makes you huff.

You don’t miss the way Sunghoon's eye burn into you at the action and it brings a smirk to your lips once you turn away from Heeseung only to find Sunghoon is still staring at you. You’re so focused on him you don’t even notice Julie grab at your arm and pull you away toward the kitchen with an announcement of grabbing a drink.

Sunghoon doesn’t bother looking away from you as Julie pulls you away, not even trying to hide the distaste on his features. Jakes bumps his shoulder against him, “Dude, cut it out.” But the younger boy ignores him, turning his fiery gaze over to Heeseung now.

“What the hell was that?” He asked before he could convince himself to stay quiet. Heeseung looks up from the ping pong ball in his hand and cocks his head to the side in confusion, he waits for Sunghoon to elaborate before answering.

“Since when do you flirt with her?” If he had his head on straight, Sunghoon would have probably realized this line of questioning sounds a bit suspicious coming from him but Sunghoon never really thought clearly when it came to you.

“You call that flirting? Man, stop playing around.” Heeseung dismisses him with a wave of his hand and turns his attention back to the game of beer pong in front of them. Despite Heeseung tossing the ball and making it into one of the cups, Sunghoon no longer seems interested and instead decides to walk away from the table altogether, leaving Jake and Heeseung standing with bewildered expressions on their faces.

He wasn’t sure what got over him tonight, he was usually much better at controlling himself around you. This little game the two of you have been playing has become almost second nature to him by now but there was just something about tonight. Maybe it was the way that cute mini skirt sat on your curves, or the way your soft hair cascaded down your back. Or perhaps it was because he had been so busy with practice and meetings the past few days that he’s barely been able to speak to you let alone see you in person. Sunghoon internally curses at himself for missing you just after a few days, this wasn’t like him at all. He’s not supposed to care, surely not supposed to miss your presence and get pissed off after you jokingly flirt with one of his friends.

The rational part of Sunghoons brain is well aware that you are not actually hooking up with Heeseung nor are you actually interested in him but that side of him is being clouded at this moment by the overwhelming sense of irrational jealousy. This feeling was unknown to Sunghoon, he had prided himself in being nothing if not rational in all aspects of his life. As he found himself walking up the stairs towards his bedroom for a moment of quiet, Sunghoon realized he would have to make a very complicated decision. He would either have to push you away or finally admit the harsh truth that his feelings towards you are anything but casual. Unfortunately for him, he was not prepared to do either.

Whilst Sunghoon underwent a mild internal crisis just up the stairs, you were still in the kitchen with Julie who was currently building up some colorful concoction consisting of multiple different kinds of liquor and juices. “You know I thought I saw a bowl of jungle juice in the living room, you could’ve just grabbed some of that instead of whatever this is?” Your nose scrunches up as the strong scent of alcohol exudes from Julie’s so called expertise.

She only shakes her head at you, “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Here, try some.” She stirs up both drinks with a bright pink straw before handing you the disposable cup. The liquid nearly reached the brim which only caused a shiver to run down your spine. Deciding at that moment that you probably were going to need the liquid courage to survive the night you only slightly hesitated before bringing your lips to the cup and chugging down a large gulp.

The liquor burned your throat and the sweetness of the juices only caused your stomach to groan in a disagreeing manner. There was no way you were finishing the entire cup but you smiled up at Julie nonetheless. The older girl smirked at you before taking a sip of her own drink. The way her eyes squeezed shut at the taste told you exactly what you already knew. Julie did not know jack shit about mixing drinks but who were you to tell her that.

“Okay, now that you have alcohol in your system you can tell me what the hell that was about with the guys?” Her eyes squint at you as she purses her lips waiting for a response.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You feel your shoulders shrug and your hand brings the questionable cocktail back towards your lips to avoid answering her question. In reality you knew exactly what she was talking about of course, you had acted differently tonight and it was all because of him. It was slightly embarrassing realizing the effect he has on you, how you never would have acted that way if it weren’t for him. Heeseung was your friend and sure you teased him every now and then but openly trying to flirt with him just to get a reaction out of his friend was a new low. Part of you felt guilty, but another more shallow part of you is still riding the high of the pure look of jealousy on Sunghoons face. It was good to know you had an effect on him as well. No matter how crazy he drives you, you could rest easy knowing it was not just your emotions getting the better of you.

In the moment you hadn’t realized how strange your actions may have seemed to the people around you, you had only wanted to get under his skin in the only way you knew how. Sunghoon was an athlete therefore being competitive is in his nature so what better way to show him what he’s missing than introducing him to his “competition.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, don’t play dumb it doesn’t suit you. Acting flirty with Heeseung? Teasing Sunghoon?” She raises an eyebrow at you with surely hundreds of assumptions circling around her head.

“I wasn’t flirting or teasing anyone, I was just joking around.” Hoping your nonchalance would shut the subject down, you’re quick to shrug and spin on your heels to walk back towards the living room but of course Julie is following right behind. She quickly steps to the side before stepping right in front of you, the two of you stood frozen in the middle of the hallway but no one seems to notice the death glare she’s throwing your way with her hand on her hip.

“Y/n, don’t insult me by lying to me. What was that? I thought you hated Sunghoon but you were acting like you wanted to get a reaction out of him. Don’t play, you know I know you too well.” Poor Julie doesn’t realize how ironic her words sound to you. Julie knew you better than anyone but even she didn’t know the secret you’ve been dragging around with you for the past three months.

“I do hate him, I can’t stand the man. Let's not forget who forced me to come tonight so forgive me for trying to find some entertainment while I’m here.” Once again you try to squeeze past her through the tight hallway. You end up back in the living room spotting the guys all scattered around now.

“You’re acting weird, but I’ll drop it for now.” The two of you are quick to have a seat on a loveseat and fall into an easy conversation with Jake and Jungwon. The minutes pass and Sunghoon is nowhere to be found which only causes even more annoyance, you haven’t seen him all week and while you enjoy the peace without his bickering you would rather have him teasing you than not have him here at all. Before you can dwell on it too long, you hear the song change into one of your favorites and suddenly Julie is pulling you and the guys up to dance together and you don’t even have to fake the smile on your face when you do so.

Sunghoon doesn’t realize how long it had been before he decided to make his way back down the stairs to rejoin the party. However as soon as his foot landed on the last step his eyes found you, dancing in the middle of the living room. You were swaying your hips with Julie right behind you. Honestly you were practically grinding on your friend which didn’t bother Sunghoon, what bothered him was the way Jake was watching you. Sunghoon watched with heat in his eyes as you made eye contact with Jake and smiled at him. Suddenly that irrational jealousy he had spent the last fifteen minutes trying to dissolve was shooting right back up to the surface. The athlete wasn’t thinking clearly when he decided to do a 180 back to his room all whilst pulling out his phone. His fingers were typing away before he could stop himself and soon enough he had hit send and there was no going back. The message sitting within that blue bubble haunted him, it was too late now so he once again fails to stop himself from sending a second text just for good measure.

The first message had gone unnoticed by you, the ding was nearly silent compared to the loud music blaring throughout the living room. Now the second message was a bit clearer since it came through as soon as the song was starting to end.

DNI

Come upstairs

DNI

Now.

You’d be lying if you said the message didn’t bring a shiver down your spine, after all you were just a girl and a weak one at that because without even realizing it you found yourself inching towards the staircase. Julie was too busy dancing with Jake and a few others who had joined in to notice your leave. This was risky, the two of you had never met up like this with all your friends around and it was filling you with an alarming amount of excitement. The thought was unfortunately not enough to stop you from quickly making your way up the stairs without a lick of hesitation in your step. With the amount of times you had snuck in here while the others were gone or sleeping you knew exactly where you were going.

For a moment you considered knocking on his bedroom door but the impatience bubbling within you wouldn’t allow such a thing so with your hand wrapped around the door knob you push his bedroom door open before sliding inside and shutting it behind you. You pause then with your back resting against the door. Sunghoon was sitting on the edge of his bed with his elbows on his knees. His right leg was bouncing impatiently and you could tell how angrily he clenched his jaw from where you stood.

“Lock it.” Is all he says without bothering to look up at you, his eyes are trained on the wall in front of him. You don’t hesitate to follow his order, turning the lock over and not daring to do anything else. Sunghoon smirks as soon as he hears the click of the lock. You always were so good at following orders when it was just the two of you, but why is it that in front of everyone else you just had to be such a brat?

You blink and suddenly Sunghoon is standing up and walking towards you. He towers over you now to which you have to crane your neck to make eye contact with him. His right hand comes up to wrap around your exposed throat, not squeezing you but putting just enough pressure to make you aware that he could if he wanted to. His other hand reaches down to toy with the hem of your mini skirt, the material scrunches at his touch and he can’t help but scoff. The air around you was so tense but it was the look in Sunghoon’s eyes that made you feel like you couldn’t breathe. His gaze was burning through you and setting you aflame but you couldn’t look away, couldn’t push him away. Not like you wanted to anyway.

“Did you have fun down there? Flirting with Heeseung, dancing with Jake? Are you that much of a slut that you turn to my friends when I don’t give you attention?” His voice finally breaks the silence between you. His cruel words should have angered you but you nearly had to hold back a whine in response. The universe was so unfair presenting you with this insufferable man and then make it impossible for you to resist him.

“I asked you a question, angel.” His voice is barely above a whisper but yet it startles you. In the short moment you found yourself losing your composure, Sunghoon had managed to lean down closer to you. His lips were a breath away from the skin of your jaw.

You could tell he wasn’t playing around anymore with the way his grip on your throat tightened and the hand previously toying with the material of your skirt drifted upwards to grab at your waist instead. There was a choice to be made here. You could either answer his question in earnest or provoke him and since you knew very well Sunghoon already considered you a brat, why not push the agenda even further.

“If you don’t give me attention someone else will, Sunghoon. Whether or not that happens to be a friend of yours is none of my concern.” You force your eyes to bore into his despite the nerves running down your spine. His jaw clicks, clenches and unclenches before he forces your head up even further, stretching your neck up the entire way as he leans down to drag his lips down your neck, not quite kissing you yet. He inhales your scents and sighs against your skin.

“I’m sure they’d jump at the chance but you don’t want their attention, do you baby? No, your body craves me, doesn’t it?” His eyes travel down the length of your trembling figure and a scoff pushes past his lips at the sight, “I mean you’re practically shaking and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Call it pent up sexual frustration after being ignored for a week.” You counter with an attempt to stabilize yourself. Sunghoon arches an eyebrow at you in disbelief.

“I wasn’t ignoring you, brat. You know I was busy with practice and don’t act like you haven’t been touching yourself all week to the thought of me.” He pulls away from your neck only to push you even further up against the door and press his body against yours. The contact of his skin on yours brought a wave of heat all the way down to your core. It should be concerning how much your body yearned for him but you weren’t prepared to deal with that revelation.

“How would I know that if you never told me? One text would have been enough but I didn’t hear from you at all for a week and instead I had to hear it from Sunoo.” His eyebrows furrowed together in confusion for just a moment before he masks it.

“What does it matter who you heard it from, you knew I was busy.” His words light a different kind of fire within you now. The anger rises before you have a chance to stop it.

“You are such an asshole. Of course it matters, I should have heard it from you. All you had to do was tell me you were going to be busy this week but instead you ghost me for a week and then you throw this party and you act like a dick.”

This time Sunghoon doesn’t bother hiding his confusion, he backs away slightly and the hand on your throat loosens. “I don’t have to do anything, last I checked I’m not your fucking boyfriend, Y/n.” His head tilts to examine your reaction.

Your eyes widen in surprise before squinting back into a glare and you nod up at him lifting your arms up to push him away. “You’re absolutely right you aren’t my boyfriend nor do you want to be as you have made perfectly clear. Luckily for me there’s at least ten guys right downstairs who would kill to be, including your best friends.”

Once you force Sunghoon back you turn to unlock the door and leave the room but of course Sunghoon wasn’t about to let you leave after saying something like that. You barely have the chance to twist the lock before he pulls you away from the door completely. He turns to step in front of you, his hands finding purchase in the same place they were before. His hand on your waist guides you to walk backwards towards his bed as the hand on your throat inches upwards to squeeze at your jaw instead.

“Don’t be stupid, what did I just tell you? You and I both know you don’t want anybody downstairs, you don’t want anyone else.” His words come out almost as a growl whilst his eyes were burning into you so fiercely you almost couldn’t recognize him.

“What do you want, Sunghoon?” The question forced its way out of your mouth before you could stop it. Sunghoon glares down at you, his eyes erratically jumping across your features not fully deciding where to focus.

“Fuck.” He lets go of you then and brings his hands up to grip at his hair, pushing his hair back out of his face. “You’re no good for me. I can’t think straight around you, you’re fucking with my head and I can’t stop it. I don’t want to stop it because I want you.” He steps up to you again this time bringing both of his hands to cup your jaw. “What are you doing to me?” His pleading eyes search your face for an answer.

You can’t help the shock that crosses your features at his confession. Your hands hesitantly lift to rest over his own on your jaw, you caress the back of his hands with your thumbs as you look up at him, the anger within you dying down if only slightly to look up at him adoringly rather than scorchingly like before.

“Same thing that you’re doing to me. I’ve never known you to be a coward, Hoonie. Tell me what you want.” It’s barely above a whisper but to Sunghoon you might as well have shouted it. The words slammed into his chest so intensely he almost leaned back in response. He shuts his eyes for only a moment before responding to you.

“I want you. I want you so bad it scares me, I’ve never felt this way before. I can’t focus because all I do is think about you. This week was so important for my athletic career but the only reason my practices kept running late was because I kept fucking up thinking about you, I was so distracted that I was making stupid little mistakes. I thought staying away from you would help but I only grew more frustrated. I don’t just want you, I need you, I crave you so bad I don’t think it’s healthy. Fuck I’ve never-” He cuts himself off by looking down at his feet with his eyebrows knitting together in frustration.

“I don’t know what to do with how I feel.” He admits after a moment and his eyes find yours again in the darkness of his dimly lit bedroom. You were aware that before you got involved with Sunghoon, he had never really had a girlfriend. Growing up the guys always referred to him as the romantic type, Heeseung would even tease him that he would be the first to get married but once they hit college it seemed all Sunghoon would allow himself to indulge in were casual hookups. It didn’t happen very often, you knew of only two other girls that the boys had brought up, both which Sunghoon hooked up with casually a few times before cutting it off. From what you heard they didn’t last longer than a couple weeks. You knew you weren’t crazy for thinking things were different between you two, there was something else here stronger than the “casual” title you liked to convince yourselves described your situation.

“You talk to me like an adult, Sunghoon. You tell me how you feel honestly and you don’t push me away when you get scared, I’m scared too, ok?” You pause to allow him a moment to take that in, he nods and breathes in all while relishing in the feeling of your hands still over his own. He wonders to himself if your touch has always brought him this much comfort.

“But, for now, you can start by kissing me and showing me exactly how much you missed me this week.” A grin lifts the corners of your lips at the sight of Sunghoon’s eyes widening in surprise. He wasn’t expecting your forgiveness tonight, he didn’t think he deserved it, didn’t think he deserved you but he wasn’t about to let this chance pass him by so he decided to earn your forgiveness in the best way he knew how.

His grip on your jaw tightened and he didn’t hesitate before bringing his lips to yours. The kiss was soft at first full of so much emotion and desire that it made you feel all weak in the knees, you would have surely collapsed if it weren’t for his hold on your jaw. His lips were so soft against yours you never wanted it to end but when the kiss evolved into something hungrier you wouldn’t be caught dead complaining with the way his hands traveled down to your waist squeezing you so tightly as if he was afraid you’d disappear otherwise. He sucked at your lips before pushing his tongue into your mouth, it was intoxicating, he was intoxicating. Your own hands found their way around his neck to pull at his hair as he pulled you closer into his body to feel exactly how much he wanted you. The prominent bulge in his pants mirrored your own arousal if the slickness pooling in your underwear was anything to go off of. Sunghoon caught the way you squeezed your thighs together and he had to hold back a groan at the sight.

“Oh baby, let me take care of you, please. Let me show you how sorry I am, please angel, let me make you feel good.” He was practically begging which only added to your arousal as you felt yourself growing wetter. You granted him permission with a soft nod but that wasn’t enough for him, despite literally begging to satisfy you, he had to make it known he was still in control.

“Use your words, angel.” He whispered against your lips waiting for an answer. You mutter a ‘yes’ which is when Sunghoon allows himself to kiss you again. His right hand finds your throat again and he pushes your head back softly exposing more of your neck to him. “You’re so gorgeous, fuck.” You’re not allowed a moment to answer before his lips latch onto your neck. The way he kisses and sucks at your skin pulls a whine from deep within you, at this point you had no shame in showing him exactly how needy you were for him as if he didn’t know it already. His other hand that was previously on your waist traveled to grab at your ass, groping and caressing as he saw fit.

“Sunghoon please.” The whines escaping past your lips only encourage Sunghoon to continue to tease you, kissing and sucking and biting at your throat roughly enough that he was sure he’d leave marks but he didn’t care anymore. He lifted up to kiss your lips once more before he pulled away slowly. The sight of Sunghoon falling to his knees before you was not one you were unfamiliar with but tonight was different, the way his eyes never left yours as he lowered himself onto his knees ignited you and you don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on before. There was something vulnerable in his gaze as though he was giving you much more than what it seems right now.

Once on the floor he trails his fingers up to pull your skirt and underwear down your legs in one go. You lift your legs one at a time so he can fully remove the clothing before taking a seat on the edge of his bed still with your legs closed. Sunghoon rests his hands on thighs and presses a kiss on your knees before softly pushing your legs open and pulling you even closer to the edge of the bed so he was facing your bare glistening cunt.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous, angel.” He presses a kiss on the inside of your thighs before biting at the skin of your inner thigh. With a smirk he leaned closer to where you needed him most before blowing softly onto your pussy causing you to groan out before leaning back on your elbows to watch him.

“Hoonie, please please.” You begged with frustration dripping from your tone. You needed him so bad you were convinced if he didn’t do something soon you would explode.

“Please what, angel?” He teased whilst pressing another kiss on your inner thigh. “Fuck, please I need your mouth.” The smirk on his lips only grew at your words, “You need my mouth? Where, angel? Here?” He brought his lips back to your thighs, kissing and sucking at your skin to which you groaned.

“Need your mouth on my cunt, Hoonie.” You squealed out before grabbing the back of his head and pushing him towards your dripping center. He chuckled but didn’t stop you after all he was supposed to be the one grovelling for your forgiveness not the other way around. The relief you felt as he licked a stripe up your cunt was instant and so prominent that you couldn’t stop the loud needy moan that came out of you just from one touch. Sunghoons hand gripped your thighs tightly as he dived into your sweetness, he was like a man starved licking and sucking to swallow as much of your taste as he could. His tongue trailed up to circle you clit before pressing against it entirely, relishing in the way your entire body shook in response.

“This pretty pussy missed me, huh? Fuck I missed your taste too, baby. The sweetest pussy, made just for me.” He groaned into your cunt, sucking your clit harshly into his mouth. You were moaning so loudly and shamelessly if it weren’t for the loud music from the party downstairs you were sure everyone in the house would hear exactly how good Sunghoon was making you feel.

You don’t even realize him taking two of his fingers to circle your hole as he licks at your clit. It doesn’t take long for his cold fingers to be coated in your arousal making it entirely too easy for him to slip two fingers inside of you. The action causes a moan from both of you, Sunghoon pulled away from your clit to admire how easily his fingers slid in and out of you whilst you were so pleased to finally be filled by something other than your own fingers. Sunghoon’s fingers always felt so much better, being longer and thicker than your own made it so easy for him to find that spot that made you see stars, a spot he was currently making sure to hit with each thrust.

“That’s my girl, squeezing around my fingers so tight, fuck. I need you squeezing my cock like that, okay?” He groans as he lifts his free hand to slide underneath your shirt and squeeze at your breasts. You nod along to his words before moaning again, “Yes, yes, I need your cock please fuck me. Want to cum on your cock, Hoonie.” Your eyes squeeze shut as you feel your lower stomach begin to tighten.

Sunghoon smiled at the sight as he thrusted his fingers into you at a faster pace. “You will, baby, but first I need you to cum on my fingers. Can you do that for me?” He brought his lips back down to your clit, licking and sucking just right all while his long fingers continue to hit that spongy part inside you. The moan you released at the action was so erotic and breathy Sunghoon couldn’t stop himself from lowering the hand previously groping your tits down to press against his throbbing hard on.

He felt you clench around his fingers as you arched your back toward him letting him know you were close. “Come on baby, cum on my fingers like a good girl.” He mumbles against your clit before going back to sucking at it vigorously until he felt your walls squeeze his fingers so tightly he was convinced they would break off. You felt your orgasm crash through you before you could say anything, you cum with a moan of his name, pulling at his hair whilst he continues to thrust his fingers in and out of you at a slower place allowing you time to ride out your orgasm. You hadn’t even noticed the way your hips practically grinded against his face on their own until you felt his nose hit your clit in a way that had you shaking with over stimulation. “That’s my good girl, fuck you taste so good for me, angel. You did so well.” He praises all whilst still pressing kisses on your clit and on your thighs before pulling his fingers out of and sucking them into his mouth all while keeping his eyes on yours. You let out another moan at the sight. He lifts himself up off the floor and you take the hint to move back to allow him room on the bed with you.

His hand grasps the back of your neck and pulls your head until he’s hovering right above you. His thumb presses against your lips which you part instantly for him. Now understanding what he wants, you lean your head further back and stick your tongue out for him to spit into your mouth, a mix of his saliva and your release drips onto your tongue as you moan. “My good girl, you see how good you taste, see why I can’t get enough?” You nod along to his words despite barely being able to comprehend anything post orgasm right now.

“I need to be inside you, baby. Need to feel you around my dick.” You aren’t sure if he’s expecting a response or just talking to himself but either way you’re not given the chance to react before Sunghoon lifts you and moves you to lay on your back on the bed and hovers above you. His lips connect with yours again and on instinct your legs wrap around his waist already grinding your hips upwards. “Fuck, needy baby, one wasn’t enough you grinding on me for another? I love it, I’ll give you what you need.” In a flash he lifts his shirt over his head, yours following right after. He takes a moment to admire the pretty bra he knows you put on just for him but it’s not long before it ends up on the floor as well so he can finally suck one of your nipples into his mouth whilst his other hand toys with the other. His hips grind down into your bare cunt all on their own, he could care less for the wet mess the action leaves on his pants.

“Sunghoon, please I can’t take it anymore. I need you inside me, I want to feel you.” Your hands grab at his head to bring him back up to your lips, pulling his lips to kiss yours as your hands lower to unzip his pants and push them down to which he doesn’t hesitate to help you do. He gets up momentarily to pull his pants and briefs off and grabs a condom from his nightstand.

His body is back on top of yours before you know it, his fist wrapping around the base of his cock to angle it towards your cunt. He drags his mushroom tip up and down your folds to coat it in your slick. He groans at the feeling and you respond similarly while arching your back and grinding your hips against him. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you feel his tip press against your hole before pushing in. Both of you sigh at the feeling of being connected in such a way.

Sunghoon hides his face in the space where your neck meets your shoulder, kissing and biting at the skin there as he feels your walls clenching around him. You felt so warm and tight he had to hold back before he came right then. Your legs wrapped around him and your left hand pulled at his hair whilst the other squeezed around his bicep. You moaned right into his ear once he pulled out just slightly only to thrust back in slowly. Sunghoon all but hissed at the feeling as he began thrusting into you at a pace both of you seemed to enjoy if your sounds of pleasure were anything to go by.

“Shit, I’ve missed this, missed you.” He groans into your ear which sends shivers down your spine. “Hoonie, harder please.” You squeeze your eyes shut at the request, relishing in the feeling of being so full.

“I’ve got you, baby. Fuck this pussy was made for me, you were made for me.” His thrusts grow harder and faster which rips a moan from your chest and brings a grin to his lips. His hips are now slamming into you and Sunghoon drags himself down to kiss and lick down your chest until he reaches your tits again. “Feels so good, Hoonie.” Your words are just barely understandable but Sunghoon nods along in agreement anyway.

“I know, baby, I know.” His right hand drops down so he can circle your clit with his thumb, only increasing your already growing pleasure and pushing you towards that all too familiar edge. His hips snap against you at an unthinkable pace and with the way he plays with your clit at a matching speed you just barely have enough time to warn Sunghoon before you feel the beginnings of your orgasm.

“Hoon…nh-I’m coming.” You open your eyes as you feel him pull away from your neck only to look deep into your eyes, “Come for me, angel. I need to feel you, shit.” He witnesses the moment you begin to orgasm as he watches your pretty mouth form an O shape as your eyebrows furrowed together. You always looked so beautiful when you orgasmed but tonight was different, just the sight alone was enough to push Sunghoon over the edge and before he could stop himself he felt his thrusts grow sloppy as he released into the condom. He groaned out as he continued to thrust slowly to allow both of you time to come down.

The exhaustion hits him without him even realizing it. His body collapses against yours, not bothering to pull out of you as he gets comfortable just laying with you. As though it was normal for you, your hands wrapped around him and you smoothed out the hair on the back of his head hearing him sighing in content at the feeling.

“I like this. I could fall asleep like this every night.” He whispers into your neck before pressing a tender kiss there. You smile at his confession beginning to like this new side of Sunghoon he had hidden from you before.

“Like inside me?” You teased with a playful laugh. He groans but it morphs into a laugh midway. “That’s not what I mean but if you’re offering I won’t refuse.” The two of you giggle into each other at your banter before it grows into a calming silence again.

“I know what you meant. I like it too.” You can feel him smile against your skin which brings a blush to your cheeks. The two of you spend a few minutes just laying there in each other's hold enjoying the calm silence and each other's presence. However you knew you couldn’t stay there for the rest of the night, the bass of the music downstairs was an unfortunate reminder of why you were here in the first place. Your nails scratch at his back to softly get his attention.

“Hoonie, we’re going to have to get up now.” He shakes his head in response, mumbling something unintelligible into your neck. “I know, I don’t want to move either but this party is for you and I’m sure we’ve already been gone long enough for it to be considered suspicious.”

“I don’t care.” His hold on you tightens. “Baby, if we go back out there I can let Julie know to go home without me so I can spend the night here, deal?” That gets his attention as he immediately rises up and presses a kiss to your lips, “Deal.” He softly pulls his now softened dick out of you, hissing at the feeling.

“Fuck, let me clean you up baby.” He gets up to grab some wipes before cleaning you up in such a caring manner you would have never thought he was capable of. “Uh, I think you might have to wash your makeup off.” He sheepishly smiled at the sight of your runny mascara and smudged lipstick.

You groan as Sunghoon guides you to his private bathroom for you to see the damage. Sure enough, Sunghoon was right, there was no way you could go back downstairs like this so you wash your face and decide to go without makeup for the rest of the party. The two of you get dressed pretty quickly and whilst doing so you decided to not say anything to your friends tonight, although they would probably figure it out on their own you don’t want to say anything to bring too much attention to the two of you tonight especially since it wasn’t just your friend group at this party tonight. Therefore, you agreed to walk back downstairs first with Sunghoon following behind you a few minutes later.

Sunghoon steps in front of you to open his bedroom door, once he finds the hall is empty he opens the door a bit more allowing you room to step out but not before he pulls you in for another kiss.

“Oh shit.” The two of you jump apart at the sound of another voice quickly turning to find Heeseung stepping out of his own bedroom that was right across the hall with an unlit blunt between his lips.

“Oh..” There goes your plan to keep things a secret for just a little while longer.

“Hey hyung look, we can-” Sunghoon starts only to be interrupted by his older friend.

“I knew it! Damn, Jake owes me a twenty for this, this is a great night.” He grins before shutting his bedroom door and making his way down the stairs as though nothing happened.

“Um, what just happened?” You tilt your head up to look at Sunghoon who seemed equally as confused.

“Well, clearly our friends bet on us. I don’t know how to feel about that.” A small grin paints itself on his lips once his eyes find yours and you can’t help but smile back at him.

“Come on, we gotta do damage control now before the entire house hears about this.” Sunghoon follows behind you without a hint of hesitation although at this point he could care less if everyone at this party knew about the two of you. Actually, Sunghoon thinks he would prefer it that way.

#sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon #enhypen #sunghoon smut #fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #enhypen sunghoon

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angel-eyes05 · 2 months ago

Text

a line drawn in red

pairing: wade wilson x fem!reader

summary: you and your across the door neighbor have a complicated relationship with each other. things only seem to grow more murky after you invite him to a work party to embarrass your ex.

warnings: nsfw mdni 18+, friends with benefits, mentions of oral sex, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up guys), angry sex at the beginning, very sweet and tender at the end, pre-mutation deadpool cause lowkey i need to see ryan reynold's face in my mind lol, fake dating idk its confusing, wade's a bit of a rebound for a little bit, ever so slight dirty talk, wade using stupid little cringey pet names, pansexual deadpool moments because i love my canon king, you can see my wade wilson headcanons LOUD AND CLEARRRR here rip

word count: 6.8k (this is my longest fic to date are you guys happy)

notes: heyyyyyy so funny story i was meant to post this in like july/august when deadpool and wolverine came out to jump on the trend buttttt i got really burnt out as soon as i got to the smut part of this and then dropped it....BUT I FOUND THIS AGAIN AND FINISHED IT SO WE'RE ALL GOOD this is gonna get zero interaction cause the trend is over but ykw idc i really like what i did here so i hope you enjoy lol. i also did not really proofread this i was too excited to post it lol

dividers by: @cafekitsune

Apartment searching was probably the worst part of the breakup. Which was saying a lot considering how hard you took his news. Raoul and you had been together for about 6 and a half years, and had even gone as far as to move in with each other. It seemed like a good trade off, considering how much the two of you would be saving on rent. And with his parents being filthy rich and owning about half the apartment buildings in Manhattan, the two of you picked a particularly nice one.

Life seemed to be sailing by on calm waters. You had finally moved out of your shitty apartment with your shitty roommate and in with the love of your life, Raoul's stiff parents seemed to finally be warming up to you. To top it all off, you had finally scored a promotion at work. Coming from a less than steady foundation as a child, moving up in your work was something you prided yourself on greatly. It didn't pay as much as Raoul's did, but you loved what you did, and were damn good at it. That was enough.

It never was for him though. Not for his reputation. Or better yet, his parents'. Which is exactly what caused the breakup. "You know how my mother is, she's never going to be happy as long as I'm dating someone with your background." The words still rang in your ears. Your background. The words tasted like rotten fish. Just as you thought he was getting ready to pop the question to you also. He had the decency to let you stay in the apartment until you found your own, but you could tell pity was the fuel behind that fire.

You wanted a place in the city, close to work, but that proved incredibly difficult. After what felt like years of looking at "fixer-uppers" and failed bargain attempts, you finally found one. Was it nice? No. It was a tiny studio, with the only room separate from the main area being a minuscule bathroom. The view was shit, the lights flickered like a disco, and it was a mission to get hot water. But it was a three minute walk from your work building and was the cheapest room you had found so far, so you decided to settle.

You kept to yourself the first week after you moved in, only really leaving to go to work and do your laundry. Your friends had begged you to go out and explore the city with them, but you couldn't seem to drag yourself out of bed. You had been so busy apartment shopping in the past few months that you forgot to do something: Mourn your relationship. The minute you placed down the last bowl in the cabinet, the waves of grief crashed on top of you instantaneously.

Would it have worked out if you came from money? You try not to think about how the answer is most likely yes.

One late night while you're wrapped up and crying in your bedsheets, you hear the first knock on your door since you've moved in. You instinctually bury yourself further in the covers, praying the knocking will stop and whoever's at the door will get bored and go away.

It doesn't.

With a groan, you mosey out of bed, throw on a pair of pants, and answer the door. Rubbing your eyes, you find yourself looking at your neighbor. You had seen him a few times in the hallway when you would take down your dirty laundry, but you didn't pay much attention to him. He seemed to be in and out of the building, which was probably why you didn't even know his name. He was pretty tall, had light brown hair that was just long enough to not be considered a buzzcut, and a little scar slashing across his right eyebrow.

"Listen, I know this is weird and I know we haven't even met properly yet, but my microwave short circuited and I've been looking forward to chowing down on this burrito all day and I think if I don't get to eat it, I'll genuinely go crazy and destroy this entire apartment building."

You had to be delirious or something, there was no way he was jumping out of the gate with his first introduction to you like this. But low and behold, he lifted up the tin foil wrapped burrito next to your face as evidence for his dilemma. "With the power of whatever sick fuck looking down on us from up there, can I PLEASEEEEEE use your microwave?" he downright begged.

You took about 15 seconds to just stare at him and comprehend what just happened. "And you thought I was the best person to ask for this? Not any of the other ten people who live on this floor?" you asked bluntly. He scoffed at you.

"Well, for your information missy, it's a pretty well known fact that most people are away in dreamville at you know, 2:30 in the morning. And I've had a habit of noticing you like to have your tv blaring around this time of night, while not many other people on this floor do. So, using my beautiful detective skills, I came to the conclusion that you're the only other person up right now. And guess what! I was right!" This guy was weird.

You groaned and rubbed your face. "And you know, how else was I going to find an excuse to finally introduce myself to the hot girl who just moved across the hall to me." You glared at his cheesy comment, while he flashed a fake smile and waved the burrito next to his face.

You sighed, knowing you'd probably regret this. "In and out," you said, moving out of the doorframe and letting him inside. "Oh my god if you had a dick I would suck it so good right now," he exclaimed as he rushed inside like a little school boy, making his way right to the microwave and popping in the burrito. You took a second to comprehend his comment. "Yeah yeah whatever," is what you decided to reply with, not having the energy to argue with the man.

You slopped down on one of the chairs placed at your kitchen island, and substitution for a table, and let your head rest on the table while you waited for the man to leave. He leaned against the countertop while he waited for his burrito. You could feel the vibrations of his fingers tapping against the counter. "What do you want," you groaned. "How long ago?" he asked, shortly. "What?" "How long ago did they dump you?" Your head shot up off the counter. "Excuse me?" He smirked. Almost like his goal was to piss you off. "You had a partner, probably guy, definitely long term, he was rich, you weren't, parents got in the way, and you got kicked to the curb."

Clocked you from a mile away.

The sounds of the beeping microwave echoed in the uncomfortably silent room.

"Get your food and get out." "Someone's not very hospitable," he snarked. You got off the chair, walked up to the man, and slapped him across the cheek. "You come banging on my door at 2 in the morning, don't even have the decency to introduce yourself, you use up my appliances, and then you flat out insult me?!?! Kicking you out is probably the nicest thing I could do right now!" you shouted. He turned his head back to face you, staring dead into your eyes. You weren't sure if you were frightened, infuriated, or turned on by his look.

"Let me show you a better time," he groveled into your ear. Jesus, why couldn't it be daylight outside.

In the day, you have control over yourself. The sun gives you a sense of clarity, almost like the light shines in on your brain and gives you the ability to make good decisions. During the night hours, you still know good from bad. It's just much harder for you to stop yourself from going the wrong way.

He must have heard the way your breath hitched, because you could hear the slight snicker he let out shortly after. He could see you were still debating it though. "Listen. This is up to you. But just so I can plead my case, you're one of the most beautiful people I've seen in my whole life, and I work around a lot of hotties, so thats saying something." "You're losing me, tiger," you cut him off. He stutters and regains his footing. "I'd hate to see someone as beautiful as you get thrown off their game cause of some jerk who didn't know what he had until he lost it. I've seen it too many times and I'd hate to see it happen to you too."

You lean in a little, ears perking up. "I personally think, I can give you a better time than he ever could. So, we're gonna do this. If I'm better than he was, you gotta promise me that you'll get back out there. Capeesh?" You closed your eyes and rubbed your bridge. He leans into your ear. "And if you like it enough, who knows, I'd be down to make this into a thi-." "Just let me think!" you push him off you. He backs up, grabs his burrito from out of the microwave, and starts munching.

This is stupid. This is so stupid. It had only been three months since you and Raoul finished, but you were so ready to get into bed with this basically stranger. You honestly just wanted him to stop bugging you. But all things considered, at least he was an attractive rebound. And he seemed to know the situation and what this meant. You just needed a distraction at this point. From everything, and especially Raoul. This was sure to do that. Besides, what did you have to lose? Definitely not your dignity.

You looked over to see him eating his burrito. God you were so pathetic, this was actually turning him on. The way his mouth was gently moving around it. You were getting wet just thinking about the way it would maneuver around your folds. Fuck. This was really your decision wasn't it. Made by the way a man eats his burrito. Pathetic.

"Fine." He looked up from his meal. "Just this once though," you added. "Yeah whatever, we'll see how you feel when we're done," he teased. You grabbed his arm and led him to your bed on the other side of the apartment. You slowly stripped off your pants and underwear, agreeing with him that you could keep your shirt on. The next hour or so was full of pure adrenaline and ecstasy. He knew how to press every single one of your buttons as his mouth worked wonders on your pussy. You had the unfortunate feeling that you would be seeing him again after this.

Once he finished another round on your clit, he wiped his mouth and stuck his hand out to you from in between your legs. "Wade Wilson. Apartment D05." You couldn't help but giggle at the silly gesture. You then stated your name and apartment number and shook Wade's hand. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Wilson." "Oh please, Mr. Wilson was my father, call me Wade. And the pleasure is all mine of course." He flashed a big smile when you giggled at his joke and dove right back into your pussy. The two of you kept going until the sun came up.

The two of you made an agreement after that night. If either one of you was sexually frustrated, lonely, or just plain horny, you two would go down on each other. Friends with benefits or something like that. Cause the two of you did talk to each other outside of sex too. Wade was a funny guy. He had his sweet moments too, despite being pretty brash. But man was he annoying.

He had a problem with never knowing when to shut up. This was a pattern during sex also. As more and more sessions went on, you noticed him becoming more and more vocal. Taking breaks to talk to your pussy while he would eat you out, striking up a conversation with you while you had a mouth full of dick. "Wade, I swear to God, if you want me to actually finish you off, you better shut the fuck up," you found yourself saying most nights, wiping his precum off your mouth. "Oh trust me sweetheart, women have left me hanging in worse situations," he would tease back.

Some nights you found yourself finishing off angrier than when you started. The two of you argued a lot. Mostly over dumb shit. Wade had a knack for pissing you off. Whether it was stealing things from your apartment, being too loud with the other people he would bring to his apartment, or just being plain forgetful with plans. Almost every outing to a club would end up with the two of you drunkly screaming at each other. But man, the way he would work on your swollen pussy with his tongue afterwards. You found yourself easily forgiving him move of the time. His argument was strong after all.

There was a set list of rules the two of you followed though. For boundaries sake. "We keep it to your apartment," he added as you wrote down details on a notepad. "Ugh, why mine?" you whined. "Cause mine's too dirty and I know your clean freak ass would have a heart attack upon seeing it." True, the way he talked about his apartment made it seem like a breeding ground for a STD. "And let me guess, you're too lazy to clean it up?" you jab back. "Hit the nail right on the head, darling!" he smiled sarcastically, taking a light swipe at your chin.

"Whatever, my turn. I don't want any you know...actual sex stuff." Wade raised his eyebrow. "What do you mean?" You shrugged your shoulders, a little embarrassed. "I don't know, just like...I'd rather stick to the oral stuff I guess." Wade couldn't help but snicker. "What, you scared my dick's too big to fit in it or something?" "No, asshole!" you shouted, bopping the top of his head with the notepad. "It just feels...too personal I guess," you said, beet red.

What Wade didn't know was that going that far was just too intimate for you right now. You already felt guilty enough getting into this "relationship" with this man you barely know after just getting out of an almost seven year relationship. You didn't want Wade to feel like some kind of rebound. Even if he kinda was. You weren't sure if he even cared though. For all you know, he was just happy to get some pussy.

"Whatever, your loss cupcake," Wade shook off. "Fine then, I get my own special condition." "Hit me," you said, sitting up. "No kissing." "What?!" you shouted. "That's so stupid, thats no where near the same level as mine! Mine is at least a little understandable!" "Hey, you have your reasons, I have mine," Wade argued. "Fine....You'll still kiss up on my pussy though, won't you Wade?" you asked, grabbing him by his shirt collar and pulling him in closer to you. "Well what else is it there for, certainly not for sticking my dick in," he teased. You gave his already erect dick a smack and dragged him down into you bed, taking off his pants for your next session.

The next couple of months looked exactly like this, with a few trauma dumps in between of course. This was comfortable. You were still getting action, but nothing too much or serious. And Wade was a good guy for you. Or for this at least. Sometimes you would sit and wonder if the two of you could, you know, become more than this. An actual couple. Wade was your best friend. Yeah, he was a little shit, but he had been there for you more than anyone else before. He understood where you came from, because he came from the same roots. Him being really hot helped too you know.

But you could never be sure if he felt the same way. You weren't sure if he was the type for an actual relationship. Yeah, your crush on him seemed to grow bigger with each passing day, but this was easier for the both of you. Not ideal. But again. Comfortable.

Things started to change really fast though when a certain instagram story crossed your feed. "That bitch!" Wade heard you shout while out at Weasel's bar. "What now, someone twist up your panties?" Wade sarcastically added. You flip your phone over him show to one of your work friends with her new boyfriend.

A fourth month anniversary hard launch. "No way, is that him?" He asked, picking up the clues quickly. You nodded silently. You had failed to mention your past relationships to your friend Clarissa, so she must have thought he was some stranger or something. You had no idea how they met and started dating, but Raoul had seemed to come back into your life as soon as he left it. And you knew for a fact you'd be seeing him soon.

"I don't know what the fuck I'm gonna do about this stupid party," you repeated to Wade as you paced your apartment floor, topless. Wade sat back on your bed, sipping on a beer bottle, his pants off. "He's definitely gonna be there, it's a Holiday party for God's sake! Everyone always goes to those stupid parties! And of course everyone goes with their partners so of course Clarissa is gonna bring him!" "And why do you have to go?" Wade asked calmly. You stopped pacing. "Because Wade my promotion basically lies in the hands of me making a good impression, which means going to every work function they've got. Valentine's Day dance, Thanksgiving dinner, and especially the Winter Gala," you recited.

You flopped on top of the bed in anger, letting out fake, annoyed sobs. Wade groaned, set his beer bottle on the nightstand, and lifted your face up with his two cupped hands. "If I go with you will that shut you up?" You stopped your fake tantrum and sat up. "Um, are you being serious with me right now?" He nodded. "Is that not asking too much? I mean like...I don't know if it's typical for someone to go to a work party with their friend with benefits," you brought up.

Wade cleared his throat. "Well, we don't have to tell anyone that. As far as your employers, and especially Raoul, know...we're dating." You sat to yourself and thought for a minute. It'd be nice to have someone accompany you to the torturous party. And plus, making Raoul jealous would be a bonus. "That wouldn't be too much? Like what about the whole no kissing thing, isn't it weird for a couple to not kiss?" you asked. "Hey, couples don't kiss all the time! And plus, we can still hold hands and stuff. Just the bare minimum. But I think it could work." He watched you as the smile grew more and more onto your face. You leaped into his arms, embracing him. "Oh, thank you thank you thank you Wade! You don't know what this means!"

Wade took a second, but he tightly wrapped his arms around your back and tightened the hug. "Anything for my favorite girl," he said quietly next to your ear. Neither of you let go for a while, taking each other in. For two people who had sex with each other about three times a week, this was the most intimate you had been. You could tell how serious it was by how quiet Wade was.

His breath was calm and steady, matching up almost perfectly to yours. Your head sat perfectly on the nook where his neck met his shoulders. But as soon as you begun to tighten your grip on him, he cleared his throat and let go. "I think I'm owed a good dick sucking for my good deeds," he awkwardly brought up. It took you a second to regain what was going on, after being so thrown off by Wade's sudden display of intimacy. "Oh...Oh! Oh you bet your ass," you recovered. Wade rubbed his hands together, almost like a corny cartoon villain as you lowered yourself down to his thick shaft.

You furiously tapped your fingers on your phone as you waited for a "ready to go" response from Wade. You added the final touches to your outfit. You spent a good chunk of your savings on your outfit for tonight, dead set on your revenge à la jealousy. The red velvet dressed you purchased hugged perfectly onto each of your curves and the string of thick pearls was cherry on top. You finally got the okay text from Wade, so you picked up your small clutched and jumped out of your apartment, knocking on Wade's door.

It was a sight you had never seen before. Wade W. Wilson was wearing a suit. A warm feeling flooded into your heart, seeing him make such an effort for the occasion. The tight fitted pants he was wearing brought a different type of warmth into your body. You noticed he was staring at you in a similar way, scanning the way the dress sculpted your frame. But the look on his face wasn't the normal lust filled eyes you had seen so many times before. It was different. Before you could decipher what exactly it was, Wade cut in. "How much did that dress cost?" You paused. "...You don't wanna know."

The taxi ride there was filled with repetitions of your master plan. Wade didn't seem to be paying much attention. It didn't matter though, as long as your head was in the game, this was sure to work.

You stepped out of the taxi and took in the view of the venue in front of you. You drew in a deep breath and found Wade standing next to you. "You ready party princess?" he asked, holding his arm out to wrap yours around. You smiled up at him and lock yours in. "Ready as I'll ever be playboy."

Most of the party was filled with shallow conversations with employers, bad music, and drinking. Lots of drinking. And then you saw him. You almost sprayed your cocktail out of your mouth at the sight. Your first instinct was to start smacking Wade's shoulder. "Jesus christ woman what is it?!?!" Wade shouted. You made a pointing gesture with your eyes towards Raoul. Wade follows your eyes. "Damn, I can see what kept you locked in for so long." "It sounds like you're begging for a trip to the hospital right now," you threatened. "Sorry, he just has a beautiful ass," Wade continued to tease. "Shame he's only into broke ass girls. Like you." "Can you stop being an asshole for once and focus!"

Wade rolled his eyes, put down his drink and pulled you out onto the dance floor. "What are you doing?" you confusedly whispered. "Going along with the plan," he said, not making eye contact with you. He put one of his hands on your hip and the other locked with yours. It surprised you how good of a dancer he turned out to be. He was light on his feet, swaying along to the rhythm of the music.

You naturally fell into his movements. You took moments of your dance with Wade to look over in Raoul's direction. He seemed fairly preoccupied with Clarissa, understandably. Your frustration laid clear on your face. Wade must have noticed, because next thing you know, he's twirling you and sends you into a dip. His face lit up at the sight of your sudden smile.

You look to your right and see exactly what you wanted. Raoul staring dead set on you on the dance floor. In an ditzy stupor you turn your face back to Wade. "I need you to kiss me." "What?" "Wade please just this once I swear, he's looking at us right now." He took a second to think, rolled his eyes, and placed a peck on your lips.

It didn't feel how you expected it to. He was rough, and mean with it. He brought you back up from the dip, roughly grabbed your wrist and dragged you back to the table with your drinks. You took a second to regain your footing. Wade downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. He looked shaken, upset even. "Are you okay?" you asked. Before he had the chance to respond, you noticed his eyes dart behind you. With record timing, you felt a tap on your shoulder and spin around.

Oh my god.

"I had a feeling that was you out on the dance floor," he said, in that smug tone he always used to use. You sighed to yourself. "Hi Raoul, it's been a minute." Catching you off guard, he pulls you in to a one armed hug, and lets go before you're able to reciprocate it. "Wait you know each other?" Clarissa asked, locked in on his arm.

Raoul starts first. "Um, yeah we were-" "We hung out at frat parties back in college," you cut in. It technically wasn't a lie. You just would rather spare yourself the embarrassment from her. Raoul didn't correct you, just a simple nod. "Aw, that's so cute!" Clarissa said. "Raoul's got so many friends I can hardly keep up at this point." Clarissa's high pitched giggle rang through your ears and you tried to keep a smile plastered on your face. "Oh I'm sure," you quietly added, getting a stink eye from Raoul in the meantime. God, you wish you didn't finish your drink earlier.

Raoul's eyes moved behind you. "I'm sorry, I didn't manage to get your name," he gestured to Wade. "Oh, that's Wade, he's my-" "Partner," he cut you off, moving up next to you and taking your hand. You squeezed it tightly, as a silent thank you. "Oh my god, congratulations!" Clarissa said. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend." "Yeah, we decided to wait until six months to go around posting about it and stuff," you added. "We would've waited longer, but I was too excited to keep it to myself any longer, isn't that right my love," Clarissa said, gently patting Raoul's jawline. "That's right my darling."

Just before taking Clarissa for a long, wet, uncomfortable kiss, you could feel a split second moment of eye contact between you and Raoul. Chills overtook your body. He was so...

Cold.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to excuse myself for a moment. It was great seeing you Clarissa," you quickly spat out before rushing away from the scene. You could hear who you hoped was Wade's footsteps leading close behind you. He called out your name for attention while you ran down the stairs, into the lobby, and out the door. "What the fuck was that? You just don't talk to me?" Wade questioned as you looked out onto the sidewalk for a taxi. "Not now Wade," you pushed him off. You could barely focus. Your mind was running a mile a minute, your heart pounding like a freight train. Who knew all it took to send you back months of healing was one look.

"This was a bad idea," you said to yourself. "Anyone could've told you that," you heard Wade say under his breath. Not in control of your actions, your hand quickly reacted, whipping itself across his cheek. It left a bright red mark on his face as Wade quickly went to hold it. "That is the last fucking thing I need right now, Wilson."

You sound like your father. You sound like his too.

The two of you stood on the sidewalk in the falling snow for a good five minutes of silence while waiting. A "Sorry," managed to come out of your mouth. Both of you were mad. Saying and doing things you didn't mean. Both hurting in your own ways. You hated the way Raoul could control your emotions. Always could. Like you were in the palm of his hand. Seeing yourself in that position again brought a wave of anger like nothing else.

"Let's just wait for the taxi," Wade said. You didn't look back to see his face, but you could feel his energy radiating in the snow. You fucked up. Big time. You were too angry to fix it right now though. This was a problem to solve in the morning. All you wanted right now was to curl up in your bed and sob for the next five hours.

Wade finally waved down a taxi for the two of you, opened the door to let you in first, and crawled in behind you. The tension in the car was so thick you were sure the driver could feel it too. It felt like you were in that car for hours until the two of you got out. As the car drove away and Wade looked for his keys to open the lobby door, all your thoughts began to flood out. "I can't believe he would wave her around in front of me like that!" You could feel the eye roll Wade was having right now, but didn't care enough to stop. He held the door open for you, as you continued talking into the elevator up. "And what was that kiss about?! Talk about show off. And gross also, their saliva almost flew into my eye." Wade stayed silent throughout your whole rant.

Still talking out the elevator and down the hallway. You were so caught up in your thoughts, you didn't even realize you were following Wade up to his door as he unlocked it. "And not to be a bitch, but how can Clarissa grow to stand him? Their personalities do not fit at all." Wade opened the door, and instinctively moved out of the way as he found you pushing yourself into his apartment as you continued talking.

He sighed to himself, closed and locked the door, threw his keys on the kitchen counter and stood by the door as you talked. "You know what? He went there to hurt me. He had to know Clarissa and I worked together, so he had to know I would be at that party! Why else would he go?!" Wade threw his head back, groaned, and began to walk up to you, shielded from your attention by the tangent you were on. "You know what, next work function he goes to, him gonna walk right up to him and tell him how much of an asshole he really is-."

The very last syllable of your sentence was picked up into Wade's mouth as his lips laced their way into yours.

You stood there wide eyed as Wade's lips rested on your mouth. He let go and opened his mouth for a moment as he lowered his eyes down to yours. "You talk too much. And you know it's bad when I'm the one saying that." You didn't have the room in your brain to respond. The only thing you could focus on was getting his mouth back onto yours. You grabbed the back of his head and smushed his face into yours, his own hands wrapping around your waist and hugging you into him.

This kiss was much different from your first one. This one was also rough, but surprisingly tender, like Wade had been waiting for this moment for ever. His lips maneuvered around your mouth the same way they did to your pussy, with a certain care and art. You were the first one to let your tongue slip, making its way into Wade's mouth. He treated it lightly, and with a gentle nature.

While you were distracted by the kiss, Wade hoisted you up to wrap your legs around his hips, and walked you to his bed. He let go of your mouth to dramatically plop you down on the mattress. "Before anything happens, I have got to get you out of that dress," Wade said, lowly and seductively. It was almost like magic, the way Wade's words could soak your underwear the minute they enter the air.

You unzipped your dress with haste, and tightly squeezed it off your body, tossing it to Wade's floor like it wasn't the most expensive piece of clothing you owned. To match you, Wade also stripped off his clothes, leaving both of you completely naked, except for undergarments, on his bed. Wade lowered himself on top of you, lacing his lips back into yours. Your hands explored his back, one of them taking a particular liking to one of his asscheeks, gripping and fondling it. Wade let out sounds of pleasure into your mouth as you played with him.

After a solid time of just making out, you separated your mouth from his. "What's wrong," Wade asked, a kind concern in his voice. You took a minute to gather your thoughts as you stared at Wade's cock, throbbing and bulging through his underwear. "Wade, I want you inside me."

Wade's breath hitched and you could see his cheeks grow red at your comment. "Are you sure?" It was crazy how much of his confidence and swagger he could lose because of your words. A symptom of something deeper inside his heart. You nodded gently. "I've never been so sure about anything until right fucking now," you whispered to him. Wade couldn't help but smile like a kid on Christmas morning. He laced his lips back into yours as his hands moved up your back and unclipped your bra like second nature. You used your hands to help him take off his boxers. The way his shaft sprung out made you gasp in delight.

Wade peppered kisses over your jaw, neck, and chest as he made his way down your body with his mouth. He took special time and care with your tits as he suckled on your nipple with that special tongue of his.

Wade was very dead set on his "no kissing" rule in the past, saving it only for when he would eat you out. Nothing above your hips or below your inner thigh. So, here and now, with his gentle kisses being pressed into your stomach, you couldn't help but giggle happily, your fingers scratching lovingly at the nape of his neck. You were so happy. Happier than when you two would mindlessly hook up. Happier than when you were with Raoul. Happier than when the stars would shine down on you from above. If you could pause time, you would stay in this moment forever. Tender. Pure. Happy,

The kisses made their way down your stomach, traced out your pelvic bone, and finally made it to the border of your panties. Wade's doe brown eyes looked up and made dead eye contact with you as his teeth latched onto your underwear lace. Your pussy throbbed with delight as you watched him pull down your underwear with his mouth expertly. He was most definitely not a novice at this. Once your underwear was finally off, Wade sat up on his knees, looking over your temple of a body.

In the time you two spent together, sure you did a lot of stuff together, but there were heavy boundaries in place. One being, neither of you had seen the other fully naked before. At least one piece of undergarment or clothing was kept on at all times, be it a shirt, boxer short, or skirt. Both of you wanted to get a certain level of privacy. But now, here you both were. Completely exposed for the other to soak in.

"You're so beautiful." His face was so full of admiration. No flirty tone. No pet name to level the meaning. He was absolutely serious. "You're so beautiful," you echo back to him, with the same amount of seriousness. Before he was going to do anything else, he lowered his entire body weight down onto you, skin to skin, and wrapped every inch of himself around you.. "What're you doing Wade?" you asked, gently scratching his bare back with your nails, feeling his skin rise and fall at your touch. "Cherishing you." You had no choice but to kiss him after that comment, a gentle peck from you landing on his lips. "I'm ready," you urged. Wade nodded. "I got you, princess."

Wade used his saliva to wet up your entrance, though not much was needed to help that situation. He used the rest of it to lather up his cock. Taking it in his hand, he gave you a kiss deep into your cheek, and pushed it inside.

Both of you moaned in a loud ecstasy as his thick shaft made its way into your leaking, tight cunt. Then, Wade began thrusting himself into you, as you grabbed onto his shoulders for support. His hands squeezed and manhandled both your tits as his hips rocked waves into you. It was exactly like dancing with him before. He had a certain rhythm to him, like he was a professional. It sounded cheesy as you thought it in your head, but it was true.

"Your pussy's so good for me," he whispered into your ear. "Like it was made for me or something." Your moans filled his ears, only encouraging him to go faster and harder with his thrusts. His dick filled up every crevice of your pussy, his tip pushing just right into your g-spot. One of his hand moves away from your tit and down to grope your asscheek. Your moans grow louder and your grip on his shoulder tightens. "You like it when I manhandle you, huh princess?" he teases. His mouth attaches itself to your neck as he sucks dark bruises into it. "Go harder Wade," you gasp. "As you wish," he cheekily remarks.

You can feel your body growing hotter as his dick throbs inside your tight cunt. The bed rocks and shakes with your movements. You wonder for a split second if any of your neighbors can hear you. The thought loses its momentum when you remember how much worse you've heard come out of this apartment room.

After a solid bit of going at it, you can feel your climax start to hit. Your breath goes shaky, your grip on him gets tighter, and your moans and gasps become more scattered and desperate. "I know sweetheart, I know, don't worry," Wade lowly whispers into your ear, giving your lobe a quick nibble after he's done. You begin to rock your hips as well, clashing into his, desperate to chase the high coming rushing towards you.

The high is magnificent, better than you had ever experienced with him. Your legs and body shake as your body comes around his dick, the orgasm ripping its way through your vocal cords. Wade slips his shaft out of you once your moans stop and finishes on his own on the edge of the bed.

You stay sitting in bed silent for some time, soaking in the full experience. Wade turns back to you and leans down to your pussy, soaking and slurping up your juices. Your body shivers under his gentle tongue. He does a reverse of before, kissing his way up your hips, to your stomach, to your neck, and finding its home on your lips. You wrap your arms around him as he kisses you, wiggling his way with you under the covers of his bed.

"So...how do you feel?" He asked, kissing your cheek. "Fucking great," you giggled. "Well duh, that was the obvious answer," he snarked, pressing quick kissing into every inch of your face, getting sweet laughs out of you. "You've suddenly turned into quite the kisser." "I think I was just waiting for the right moment," he said gently, scanning your face and finding a comfortable sitting in your eyes. "I'm glad you finally found it," you whispered to him. He smiled drowsily. "Me too." Wade nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, planting soft kisses there. You closed your eyes as you took in his touch. You could feel yourself slipping out of consciousness, making a quick note to yourself to remember this moment forever. Cherishing Wade while you did so.

#wade wilson #deadpool #xmen #deadpool x reader #wade wilson x reader #xmen x reader #marvel x reader #marvel fanfic #xmen fanfic #deadpool fanfiction #deadpool smut #smut #x reader #fanfic

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mysteria157 · 11 months ago

Text

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Black Fem Reader

CW: Profanity, Light Angst, Alcohol Consumption, Explicit Sexual Content, Missionary, Cowgirl, Fingering, Fingersucking, Cunnilingus, Slight Dom Reader (not much), Car Sex, Bathroom Sex

WC: ~16k (It's long so get some snacks)

Summary:

Maybe you're single for a reason. You’re too outspoken and mean to men, too demanding with your expectations, and you refuse to settle for less. For the ones who aren't worth the air they breathe, you chew them up and spit them out. You savor the taste so you know what to avoid the next time.

So when he looks down at you with that devilish smirk and calls you 'Princess', you're determined to prove that Toji Fushiguro is no exception.

Notes: Hello! This is my first fic with Toji and I'm nervous to get it out here. The setting of this fic and the elements I incorporated connect a lot with my own childhood and the memories (not the interactions in this fic) that I had at family cookouts and get-togethers. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated! Happy reading!

Dividers: @royallaesthetics @eloquentmoon

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter | **Sequel**

“Can I get you a drink, princess?”

When you meet Toji Fushiguro for the first time, it’s on the fourth of July at your uncle’s house. It’s a big get-together at a two-story house located in the countryside. Every year he opens up his spacious home for a gathering of your extended family to bring excessive amounts of alcohol, play old school rap and R&B too loudly, devour delicious fucking food, and set off fireworks that have been collected since the beginning of the year.

Your uncle has already made a home by the grill and taken control of the speakers after one of your younger cousins attempted to play something ‘a little too racy’ for his tastes. You’re pretty sure it was an Ice Cube song from the 90s that your uncle hates but is too proud to admit, so he lectures your cousin about ‘what young folks should be listening to’ instead.

The smell of hamburgers and ribs has been teasing your nose for the past hour, and your hunger is borderline unbearable with each sniff. You avoid the allure of the long table of food because if you look, you’ll be three plates in before the meat is done. There’s coleslaw, baked beans, greens, and macaroni and cheese. Your favorite aunt also brought her potato salad and you know she’s going to make yellow cake with chocolate frosting fresh before the fireworks. You love it so much and you were deprived of it last year when you were called in to work at the last minute. You will get some today.

The backyard is expansive and well-maintained, and your cousins and aunts have already laid their claim on swanky cushions of the nice patio furniture.

The one cousin you’re closest to in age and personality sits next to you on a large blanket a few yards away from the rising volume of your extended family. You were able to get a good ten minutes of conversation from her before her fiancé showed up and made a home inside of her mouth.

Your family normally has something to say about PDA—a stupid quip about acting ‘too grown’ even though you are both knocking on the door of thirty. But she doesn’t care—just like you, that’s why you like her so much even though her fiancé is sucking on her face like it’s his last day on Earth.

Shiu Kong is nice—gentle in his own way and carries himself with a bored air that seems to pull your cousin in. He’s enamored with her, practically folds in on himself when she’s around, and worships the ground she walks on. They’ve been together for a few years and you’ve never had a problem with him.

But that just might change today because he’s brought along a friend who has already ignited a flame of arousal and annoyance deep within your belly. From the moment Toji Fushiguro stepped into the backyard with Shiu, your family was transfixed. Your aunts can’t stop ogling, and your uncles and male cousins try to jokingly size him up.

“Oh honey why don’t you sit down, don’t be shy. Lemme get you something to drink.”

“That’s not steroids? It’s gotta be. Don’t play.”

“How much you bench?”

It’s annoying. So fucking annoying but you can’t help but agree. He’s a little older—maybe early thirties—but dangerously attractive.

Raven hair that reaches his ears, looks unbelievably soft and falls over emerald green eyes. A grey shirt hugs him too fucking deliciously for your comfort and dark jeans hug an ass that’s too fucking juicy. He’s a big man—a burly man and unfortunately, that’s how you like them.

Big, burly like a bear, respectful, and capable of making you feel small and protected but also valuing and worshipping you as a woman. Unfortunately, such men are hard to come by because you tend to intimidate them. You don’t tolerate disrespect in any form and quickly put men in their place if they try to undermine, belittle, or confuse protection with control. You know what you want, and you refuse to settle for less.

They can’t stand it.

And right now, you can’t stand Toji. As he looks down at you with a well-worn smirk on his face, a smirk that suggests he has plenty of experience in situations like this, your irritation grows. He’s a smooth talker, confident in almost everything he says. His voice is deep, but melodic in a strangely feminine way that makes his words slide like silk down your back, and the minute you heard it, your thighs threatened to rub together.

Definitely a smooth talker. But the nickname you don’t care for.

Princess.

Like you’re a dainty little thing who will bat her eyelashes and call him Daddy. It makes your walls of self-defense rise even higher, and the gentle smile you had given Shiu when he first said hello moments ago transforms into the beginnings of a frown.

Without hesitation, you rise to your feet, plant your wedges firm into the grass, and turn away from them before muttering, “I’m good.”

Toji simply shrugs; a gesture that annoys you even more because he doesn’t offer any other reaction that satisfies you. He settles into your previously vacated spot, leaning back on his hands. The jacket on his shoulders falls open and the sight of his shirt hugging his muscles is too much for you.

You inwardly curse as your eyes wander over his physique. Thick pectorals that you could easily rub your face against and make a pillow for yourself to sleep on stretch the fabric in a way that you’re sure it’ll rip. Abdominals tease just below the surface of his shirt that clings to him like a second skin. You want to lick between each one, press your teeth into the hard skin to make him wince and beg as you count each one.

Four, six, eight?

Fuck.

You don’t show how you want to straighten your spine against the chill of being caught staring. That smirk is on his face again, tugging at the corner of his mouth. There’s a scar on the right side that slashes vertically over his top and bottom lip and you dislike the arousal that begins to boil between your legs from the sight. You wonder how he got it. If it was a fight, did he win? The thought of him wrestling another man to the floor and taking a cut to the face in the process shouldn’t arouse you, but god it does.

His eyes make you think of moss as you watch them slide up your body, and it almost feels like invisible hands caressing you. They’re large and pale, littered with scars along the knuckles as they glide up your exposed chocolate legs, dip between your inner thighs, and caress the curves of your hips.

“See something you like?”

He’s ogling you but has the nerve to try and put you on the spot? You have enough self-control to let logic worm through the rising lust inside of you. You sneer down at him, sharp enough for Shiu to visibly pale and your cousin to giggle at.

“To be honest, I don’t really see much.”

You don’t give him a chance to retort and you pretend not to hear the soft hum of nonchalance he throws back. You walk away from them, turning just in time to shield the way your eyes widen at the feel of your face and neck prickling with heat.

The moment you close the bathroom door inside your uncle’s house, the breath trapped within your lungs escapes in a rush. You press your forehead against the wood and the coolness of it offers only little relief to the burning of your skin.

You turn your head and press your cheek against the wood so the cold surface can slide along your cheek as you open your eyes to take in your reflection.

Of course, Toji would ogle you. You’re confident enough to know your beauty.

A red sundress that hugs your curves, stops at your mid-thighs. Knotless braids with curled ends are piled on top of your head in a loose bun with a few strands that spill along your hairline.

You’re good-looking. But you’ve been out of practice with a man for a long time. Your last relationship ended when you caught him balls-deep in your coworker. You’re too shy to pursue a one-night stand and not detached enough for a situationship.

However, you could risk it all for Toji and you hate that you’re entertaining the thought. You hate that you’re imagining him barging into the bathroom, bending you over the counter, and taking you from behind with his large hand digging into the small of your back and whispering how much of a good girl you are as you beg him to cum.

God, get yourself together.

To calm yourself down, you find solace in your uncle’s quiet kitchen. There’s only one person occupying it, your favorite aunt, who is heavily pregnant and working on the yellow cake that you’ve been thinking about all day. You use the opportunity to distract yourself and take over for her, shooing her away to relax in the backyard.

You crack an egg against the off-white countertop, fractures splitting up the sides before spilling its contents into the silver mixing bowl in front of you. A self-deprecating thought slithers in your ears, and whispers loudly with wicked intention.

Toji wouldn’t want a woman like you.

You’re too outspoken and mean to men, too demanding with your expectations. It pushes them all away, and although you normally take pride in keeping away those who aren’t worth your time, it can get lonely.

To see your ex actively cheating on you was icing on a cake that was slowly cooking in an oven of your own self-doubt. You have standards, and while your friends consider you the voice of reason in their misfortunes with men, most members of your family think you’re too picky. You’re too much work, ‘you think you know everything’.

“Men will always have a wandering eye, it’s up to you to keep them in check, girl.”

“Honey, I love you, but the more you pick apart a man, the less he will want to be around you.”

“They love it when you cook for them, girl. Take care of your man and keep him fed and you’ll keep him forever.”

Bullshit.

It’s bullshit to take care of a man in the same way his own mother does. It’s bullshit to lose all sense of self and independence, to wait on a man when he gives you less than nothing in return—when he can hardly give you the bare minimum. You don’t mind cooking for a man who takes care of you, who loves and values you, who would never hold you back and would encourage you when you can hardly encourage yourself.

But all the good ones are in relationships now, married with a few kids, and in your resolve to stay strong and weed out the bad to find the good, it’s left you a little bitter.

Most black families are old school, and yours is no exception. They hold ‘for better or worse’ a little too close to their heart. They cling to an ideal that a man runs the household down to the basics in a way that makes you uneasy and in your defense, you snap when you’re backed into a corner.

You love them, you truly do, but they probably will never understand just how aware you are of the world and how little you are willing to put up with the problematic things that others consider normal.

Your ex was great at first. But he got comfortable. And when he got comfortable, he got lazy, a little too controlling, and a little too frustrated when you asked for certain things in the bedroom. The only person who knows about your breakup is your mother, who had the gall to be out of the country for work, leaving you to fend for yourself for today.

You watch as the batter spills on each side of your wooden spoon, parting and then falling back together like sand. In your reverie, you don’t notice a few of your relatives who have now entered the kitchen and are roaming through the fridge. You can hear one of your least favorite aunts—the bitchy one—playfully joking with someone, and whatever drivel comes out of her mouth makes that person laugh. It’s deep and suave enough to make a tingle of electricity stutter down your spine because you know it’s him.

Refusing to look in their direction, you continue mixing the batter until the lumps disappear.

“You been hiding in this kitchen for awhile now,” your aunt begins, Atlanta accent the most grating it’s ever been as she turns her gaze toward you. “You’re normally a little more talkative when your man is here. He not coming?”

There is not a trace of genuine concern in her tone. You and her bicker often; she presses your buttons and then gets mad when you press back. Your ex’s infidelity is ammunition you don’t want to give her, but being caught in a lie is something she would only treasure more to use against you later.

You clear your throat and turn the spoon in the batter once, then twice before answering without looking her way.

“No, he actually came inside of my coworker a few weeks ago. So we split up.”

You can feel the noise before you hear it—a characteristic and sharp ‘mmm’ that seems to be ingrained in your family’s DNA. It makes your grip tighten on the wooden spoon, and you scrape along the bottom of the bowl until it screeches on the metal.

“You gotta watch out for this one, Toji. She’s always been an outspoken one. Too good for ‘em all and likes to be a little mean to her men.”

You scrape harder and then turn to her, a sickly sweet smile plastered on your face.

“You’re right. The fact that I won’t settle for someone who will get bored with me after a few years makes me way too good for them. Should have turned the other cheek just like you did with your last husband. Or…was it the one before him?”

You catch the way Toji pulls his lips in to bite down on them, scar twitching as he fights to hold in a snicker.

Your aunt glares at you, purses her lips, and turns them to the side before pulling in a noise that has been passed down for generations. Her mother and her mother’s mother used the very same tactic to strike fear and insignificance in their children when they talked back. It’s a sucking of air between her teeth and the sound makes years of discipline from your own mother flash in your mind like you’re in the trenches of war.

You know she wants to say something, and you can taste the ‘you always got something to say’ in the air before Toji slides from his perch against the counter and places a hand on your aunt’s shoulder.

“Let’s get you a drink, huh? Didn’t you say you wanted me to try the beer you brought in?” She throws you a knowing glare before letting Toji lead her away; because if there is one thing that will distract her from showing out, it’s letting a good-looking man touch her.

The shaking in your hands helps you sift in the dry ingredients—a mix of sugar, flour, and baking soda—into the batter. The breaths through your nostrils are heavy and thick with anger, and the corners of your eyes sting with heat. You whip the batter harder than necessary, your aunt’s words replaying in your mind like a broken record.

Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry. Don’t—

The sight of a can of hard seltzer pressing onto the counter in front of you makes the ramblings in your mind stop. Familiar long fingers unfurl from the can and slide on the counter, their fingertips touching the edges of your mixing bowl in an effort to get to you.

“I would have given you a bottle of beer. But I had a feeling you might bash it over your aunt’s head.” He’s not wrong, and in your frustrated state, you consider his defense admirable. “I like a fight, but I’m a guest and the food looks good.”

Your grip on the spoon loosens slightly as Toji leans casually against the refrigerator, arms crossed over bulging biceps that stretch the short sleeves of his shirt. His jacket is now gone, and you can’t help but notice the veins in his forearms that protrude, tempting you to lick against them.

It takes the sheer will to tear your eyes away and focus on pouring the batter into the bundt cake mold, observing as it fills the intricate crevices.

“So he cheated? Most men are pigs.”

“But not you, huh?” you can’t help but retort, shaking the mold to disperse the air pockets that bubble on the surface.

In your peripheral, he shrugs. “I know what I like in a woman and once I get what I want, it makes no sense to look somewhere else unless she wants me gone. I’m a man…but I’m a loyal man.”

When you meet his emerald gaze, you can see a hint of pain and vulnerability that unsettles you, tilts you back on your heels from the force of his honesty. You reach for the can of seltzer and take a long swig to give yourself time to get your thoughts in order. The carbonation is sweet and fizzles along the sides of your tongue and down your throat.

“So what is it you like in a woman, Toji?”

It’s a question that probably should have been left untouched, but your curiosity overpowers your restraint. You don’t want to go back outside, because if your aunt is still feeling particularly petty, she will say something that will only make you leave. And you don’t feel like letting your family win today.

Toji’s strong gaze certainly isn’t helping. Those invisible hands slide along the crevices and dips of your body, stroking the small of your back before pressing featherlight against the back of your neck. The hairs rise in response, your skin prickling with gooseflesh.

Unexpectedly, he pushes off the refrigerator and walks closer to you, and you’re too shocked to back away. Despite his imposing stature, you know he won’t harm you. There’s something about him that’s warm and inviting, soft and tender even though his exterior is hard lines and muscle. The two of you are now mere inches apart, and the air feels thin as if you’ve reached the summit of a mountain and struggle to breathe due to the change in altitude.

Jet black locks graze against a rough cheek, the tips kissing the raised scar on the side of his mouth. Up close you can see his features more closely. His eyes are sharp and intense with deep green between his lids as if hiding a pearl in an oyster. Thin eyebrows make him look more serious and cutting and you’re swallowing back drool because your nose picks up a faint whiff of woodsy amber emitting from his body. It smells cheap—he’s put together in the most basic sense—but it still smells…good.

“I like a woman who knows what she’s about. Independent and doesn’t fuck around. Smart and pretty with curves I can grab and squeeze. Someone with some sass and isn’t afraid to put anyone in their place.”

He steps closer and your lungs heave in a desperate attempt to pull in air. The brush of the wall against your back makes you stutter out your exhale and you press your palms flat against the cool surface to keep you grounded.

“I like a woman with nice creamy brown skin that smells a little like the cake she’s baking…” Through the sea of delirium, you distantly realize that he’s describing you. “The red dress definitely is a bonus.”

That familiar smirk pulls against his lips again and your heart is thundering in your chest. You would be surprised if he couldn’t see it thumping erratically beneath the skin between what’s exposed of your cleavage.

But this is just another trick in their book to get you in their bed. Or in the bathroom. Or over the kitchen counter.

And as much as you want to, you can’t give in. Because you’ll hate yourself tomorrow.

So you tilt your chin up at him and narrow your eyes at his amused expression.

“Describing me in place of your ‘ideal woman’? That’s boring. Go use it on my bitchy aunt, she’s got fillers in her ass so that’s more curves for you to ‘grab and squeeze’ when she throws herself on you after the Hennessey kicks in.”

Toji’s eyes widen slightly before a harsh laugh barks from his mouth. It’s surprisingly nice on your ears and rattles the drums inside in a way that you don’t dislike. He pulls away from you, giving you a few more inches of space and the altitude in the air seems to level out enough for you to take an inconspicuous deep breath.

“Nah, nothing against fillers, but I’m more of a natural man myself,” he admits.

“Cellulite and stretch marks?” you ask with a lift of a brow, teasing but…mildly curious.

You watch as that smile slowly slides on his face, teeth glittering and eyebrows raising. He looks like he’s hit the jackpot.

“The whole package, princess.”

Biting the inside of your cheek to suppress a smile, you push down the lingering arousal in your stomach, refusing to let it simmer. He’s funny and you appreciate a man who loves the raw and often overlooked intricacies of a woman.

His response is disorienting, throwing you off balance, and you’re unsure of what to do next. Your usual response is to talk back, to take delight in a man fumbling when his own cards have been turned against him. But you can’t think of anything right now.

You move around him to place the bundt cake mold into the oven, setting a timer with the plastic buttons above the stove. Snatching the seltzer from the counter, you lean back against the oven, putting a considerable distance between the two of you to think.

Toji mimics your movements, retreating to the fridge to relax against it, folding his arms across his chest, and god he still takes up the room. Even though you’re further away, it still seems like you can smell the cologne as if it’s sitting right on the skin below your nose.

“Do your moves always work on women?” you ask before taking a good swig of your seltzer.

He shrugs in response and turns around to dig a beer from the fridge. You don’t bother to hold back the urge to leer at him. You want to grab his ass, listen to him squeal in surprise, and blush in embarrassment when you squeeze. The thought of digging your fingers into the skin of it as he fucks you nice and slow makes your mind short circuit, a computer rebooting and making a loud noise before frying out indefinitely.

“On the rare occasion that I happen to use them, yes they always work. But…obviously not on you.”

“I’m not easy to win over. You need to be worth my time.” Your eyes flicker up to his face before he turns around to face you.

He takes a swig of his beer and you watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow. The column of his throat is long and pale and you want to slide your tongue along the side to taste the saltiness of his skin.

“What’s it going to take?”

His interest in you is admirable, and a small part of you is giddy with the attention. But you’re nervous to give him an inch when most are quick to take a mile.

“I have a name so stop calling me princess. I’m not a royal, so unless you’re offering me land, money, or power, I don’t want to hear it.”

He barks out another laugh, his thick chest shaking and eyes closing as he throws his head back. You despise how good it sounds and you’re reminded of these moments when men seem so beautiful and wonderful before the ugliest parts of them are visible.

“What else?” he inquires, still chuckling as he takes another long sip.

“If you’re expecting sex from me, think again. I don’t do one-night stands or friends with benefits. It’s messy and I just don’t have the strength for it.”

He seems to consider your remark as if he has no choice but to weigh your stipulation before signing a contract. Then he smirks that devilish smirk that makes your cunt pulse between your thighs when you know damn well it shouldn’t. You cannot be this turned on by this man.

“Not even if I have a big dick?” he teases.

He’s annoying and you’re mildly disgusted but still willing to banter with him, so you grimace and roll your eyes. “What, you want me to take a look first before I make up my mind?”

He full-on grins, the fucker. “If that’s what it takes.”

But in true fashion, you bounce back with your own quip. “Public indecency is a crime and I also don’t like to look at cock until after I’ve eaten something. It’s nauseating.”

Laughter erupts from him once again, loud and boisterous that it seems to shake the oven against your back. He probably thinks you’re joking. But you’re not. Dick already looks alien. Looking at dick on purpose without any sense of arousal is pathological behavior.

Your heart flips in your chest when he pushes off the refrigerator again, taking a swig of his beer as he saunters to you and the sight is criminal. Your fingers dig just slightly into the metal can in your hands, a faint pop emanating from it.

“What are you bothering me for anyway,” you can’t help but ask, frustration coating your words as you frown more at yourself than at Toji. “I have so many other cousins here who are single and would love to get their hands on you.”

At first, he doesn’t respond, and in the silence, you struggle to take a full breath again. You don’t like that he’s so close to you, but you also love the way he smells and the way he looks at you as if you’re someone and not something to fucking eat. You’re a fucking mess.

His head tilts slightly, and his hair follows the movement, brushing against his cheeks as his eyes take you in instead of scrutinizing you.

The air feels thin again, and you ready yourself to leave when your pregnant aunt suddenly barges back into the kitchen and stops short at the scene. Toji takes a slow step back, not really bothering to fumble at being so close to you. You’re sure he doesn’t really care.

She’s your favorite for a reason because she understands. She’s not dismissive and mean and she simply smiles knowingly at you both before gesturing with her head towards the backdoor.

“Time to eat. Honey, why don’t you show Toji what’s what before your uncles steal everything.”

***

He stays close to you when you both make it outside, and you do your best to ignore your bitchy aunt’s gaze from her perch in one of the patio chairs. The spread of food makes your mouth water and you waste no time grabbing a plate for yourself and absentmindedly handing Toji one as well.

“I’ve never had some of this before,” he admits, and his voice is a little apprehensive from next to you as he takes everything in. It makes sense, this is probably his first cookout…his first black cookout at least. Strangely, you’re proud to be the one to guide him along.

“What is this?” he asks, pointing to the heavy helping of greens and ham hocks on his plate minutes later. You’re both at a small table alone and away from the noise.

“Collard greens…it’s a cabbage that’s cooked in a pot for a few hours with spices and broth. The ham hocks give it flavor, cook it before you add the greens so the meat falls off the bone better.”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing as Toji gives them a wayward glance, an arch of a thin brow that makes his features more handsome than they should be, and then he takes a tentative bite before moaning sinfully in appreciation. The vertebrae of your spine lock in place, stiff with a sudden chill at the noise as you picture it slipping from his lips while you ride him until the hinges fall off.

You take your own bite to stop anything stupid from coming out of your mouth.

You figure he has to eat to accommodate for his size but to see it in action is something else entirely. He finishes two plates in fifteen minutes and as he makes his way to get another serving, your bitch of an aunt speaks up from across the lawn.

“Why don’t you get up and get him another plate?”

Why don’t you shut the fuck up?

You grip the plastic fork in your hand tightly, digging into your diminishing potato salad and swallowing the vile that you want to throw her way.

Make your man a plate before you make yours, get him a drink, get him another helping so he doesn’t have to, keep him fed.

Maybe this is why you’re single. You want to scream. You want—

“Don’t listen to her. You’re still eating, don’t move,” he levels, and you don’t miss the hint of irritation in his own voice as he gets up. “The same seltzer as before?” he asks, pointing to your drink that you didn’t realize was empty.

“I—”, you fumble before clearing your throat. “I like the strawberry one…if there’s any left.”

He shoots a wink your way and your body ignites with heat.

Your cousin worms her way over when Toji disappears, and you try your best to ignore the sly look on her face.

“Defending your honor from our bitchy aunt? My, my, the perfect recipe for your feminist heart.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you growl, shoving the last of the potato salad in your mouth.

“He’s Shiu’s best friend. Moved here from Japan a few months ago and is living in the same city as you. It could be fate? You want his number?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap again, feeling exasperated but knowing that unless Shiu is here to stop her, she will talk until she’s tired or you’re swinging at her.

She giggles, undeterred and gearing up for more. “He’s single too. And you’ve got all our other cousins mad as hell because he won’t leave you alone.” You don’t reply, because you’re mildly intrigued and impressed with yourself. It’s nice to have the attention from someone so attractive; it’s just figuring out if he’s genuine that’s the headache. “When the music gets louder tonight…or when the fireworks go off, take him upstairs and fuck him on—”

“Didn’t I say—fuck you.”

She guffaws, loud and unabashed and it pulls a smile from the side of your mouth. You know she doesn’t mean it, you know that at gatherings like these, you’re the black sheep and she just wants you to enjoy yourself.

“Seriously though, cousin. Shiu doesn’t keep many around, but they’ve been friends since they were kids. That’s a good sign right?”

There’s some merit to it, but you still want to be careful.

And Toji Fushiguro makes it hard for you to be careful because he wants you around him all the time and is unashamed to show it.

Later in the night when the music is booming old school hip hop that your uncle won’t shut up about (he’s drunk), your other uncles—and a few cousins they will definitely con—have a table already bustling with spades. At first, you’re unsure how they convinced Toji to join, but he’s partnered with one of your cousins who has no clue about the game, and you realize they just want Toji to lose so they can feel good.

Feeling curious, you pretend to bring Toji a beer. He’s frowning down at the cards, irritated with his lips curled into a small scowl and your cousin is trying to act like he knows what to do, but his stupidity is palpable even from where you stand.

You offer him a beer and ignore the fact that the one on the table is still full. When he looks up at you, his sharp eyes hold you like a vice, frustration evaporating quickly before opportunity takes its place.

“Help me.” He doesn’t bother to hide the confusion in his voice and you can’t help the way your stomach flips.

One of your uncle’s snickers. “She doesn’t know how to play.” You do. “But she can try.”

You’re so annoyed, and you want to snap at him but Toji is pulling you closer to him with a muscular arm before you can. You’re in his lap before you know it, sitting precariously on a thick thigh with your back pressed against a broad chest and you can’t breathe again. The fluctuating altitudes are making you lightheaded.

Any other time and you wouldn’t hesitate to turn around and knock a man’s teeth in for grabbing you. But against your better judgment, you relax into Toji instead. His cheap cologne smells way too fucking good, he’s so big and warm against your body and your throat is drying up like you’ve taken a big breath in the middle of the Sahara.

“Don’t grab me like that,” you can’t help but grumble, only mildly put off.

“I improvised.” It’s a feeble excuse wrapped around a heavenly chuckle in your ear and you pray to whoever is listening, mentally offering up a sacrificial lamb, anything to ensure you don’t drip all over his thigh. “Now help me win.”

You do. Three times. He's adamant about winning and you're sure he has a gambling problem. And if your legs go a little numb from sitting on his thigh or if you lean into the way his outside hand slides to hold the curve of your waist, you don’t complain about it.

***

“You don’t dance?” Toji asks an hour later, joining you on the blanket that you occupied when you first arrived. It’s almost sunset, and the orange of the sky covers half of the backyard as your family revels in their merriment.

You shrug at Toji’s question, gazing at members of your family who are dancing in the yard. One of your loudest uncles is boasting about the music as he teaches one of your cousins dance steps. That used to be you so many years ago, and the moves are like muscle memory as you watch them. One of your aunts takes over the stereo, beginning what will surely be an hour of reminding everyone of the greatest hits.

You suddenly realize that it’s just you and Toji on the blanket. Your cousin and Shiu are off god knows where, and given her penchant for being a rebellious freak, she’s probably riding him on your uncle’s bed. The thought makes you shudder.

“Are you cold?” he probes, pulling you out of your thoughts.

It is cooler now, but that’s not why you were shivering. You’re ready to tell him no, to start shaking your head even as you watch him pull his own jacket off to place it over your shoulders. His hands smooth over your shoulders and down your arms as if securing it closer to your skin and your blood boils beneath your cheeks. Your skin isn’t light enough to show when you’re blushing, but you’re burning with nervousness.

“Stop being so nice to me,” you hiss instinctively, regretting the words as soon as they leave your mouth. The surprise is evident on his face and you immediately feel guilty. “I’m—I’ll only be mean to you in return.”

For the first time of the night, he looks angry. His eyebrows dip, the scar on his cheek twists with the harsh frown on his lips and he gives a severe ‘tch’ that makes you gape at him. “Why because you’re mean to men?” he snaps, impatient and free of any tease.

It raises your hackles instantly, and you’re talking back before you know it. “Exactly. So why don’t you take a hint and stop trying to get into my pants—”

You feel a rough finger on the side of your cheek turn you further towards him, preventing you from looking at anything else.

“You just don’t like bullshit. Stop acting up and let me be nice to you.”

For once, you don’t have anything to say even though your hand is twitching with the urge to slap the words from his mouth. You want to. It’s easy for you to fight back and push them away, you’re good at it. But you can’t fight the way his gaze seems to calm you down against your better judgment.

You pull your face from his hold and roll your shoulders, sliding out of his sharp gaze and turning back to your lively family. One of your cousins is arguing about why the Cowboys didn’t make it into the playoffs, and now everyone has something to say.

You pull in a deep breath, scolding yourself to relax just a little. He hasn’t been so bad, and you’re not one to make things intentionally difficult if a man is honestly trying. You’re still apprehensive about his intentions…but he is trying without being a beast. So you exhale your frustrations into the July air, calm down so your heart can steady its frantic pounding from the lingering scent of his cologne, and dig your fingers into your uncle’s well-kept grass.

“Fine. If I let you be nice to me…what would be the next thing you would say?”

You can’t look at him, but you feel his eyes on your body as you pluck a few blades of grass from the soil. The strands slide against the pads of your fingertips, rough and threatening to cut, before fluttering in the breeze when you release them.

He’s grabbing you again, tenderly but possessively, sliding you into his embrace so your back is to his muscular chest, his chin rests on the side of your temple and his arms wrap around your waist. Your heart is back to leaping in your chest, pumping loud and fast in your ears, drowning out the music and arguing as if you’re underwater.

“How about you tell me about your family?” he suggests, voice unmuffled through the thickness of your hearing.

It’s a random ask, as if he wants to impress them, as if you’ve been dating for a long period of time and he wants to be prepared to meet them for the first time. The thought doesn’t leave a bad taste in your mouth, even though you know it would never be a reality anyway. You don’t know if he’s just joking and frankly, the feel of him against you is warmer than his jacket on your shoulders and you don’t want to leave.

So, if it means he can stay put, you give in. You tell him about your aunts, uncles, and cousins—where they are from and what they do. You share your traditions when you all get together and the small intricacies you all share. It’s incredibly personal…maybe even too intimate. But he listens, and hums to let you know he’s paying attention, and asks you questions as you talk.

Eventually, his cheek rests on the crown of your head against your braids and you surprisingly don’t mind at all. When you notice his arms wrapped around you, you get a better view of the scars on his arms and fingers, and there is a rising urge to ask how he got each one.

“So she’s been married twice?” his voice is low in your ear so you can only hear him in the noisy backyard. His breath smells faintly of the beer he finished an hour ago, and it slides along the skin of your neck hot and thick. You resist the urge to cant your neck to the side to give his breath more room to roam.

You nod. “She got the fillers after the first husband. Those brought in the second husband. Then he left her for some girl in Cali.”

“Cali?’ he questions, confused.

You snort softly. “California.” You elbow him and the bone slides against hard muscle. Dammit. “You don’t know your states?”

“I’m foreign, not stupid.” The laugh that bubbles from your chest is sharp and you can’t help the smile that pulls against your cheeks from it. “I know my states!” He sounds truly annoyed and for some reason that makes you laugh harder. “Florida, Kansas—”

“I’m not asking you to prove yourself!” you sputter around a giggle, shaking in his embrace. But he’s not listening.

“Montana, New York…there’s another one…the big one.”

You gawk, turning just a little to crane your head up at him. He looks down at you with an embarrassed expression, his cheeks a little rosy even though his lips are flickering with the urge to laugh.

“I beg your finest pardon…the big one?”

The side of his face twists in the nastiest way, and he’s angry at being questioned. “Don’t—it’s the one down below!”

“In relation to what?”

His eyes narrow, emerald barely noticeable between thick lashes. You can sense his hold on you tightening slightly, his chest stutters in a huff and you realize with rising glee that he’s pouting. Normally you would revel in this…but—

“Texas,” you find yourself speaking up at him, voice soft and gentle on the edges. “The big one down below is Texas.”

He simply hums, his chest vibrating against your back, but his gaze is smoldering, taking you in and dipping down to your lips before flickering back up your eyes. You’re too hot now, his jacket against your skin too suffocating, your heart beating too fast against your ribcage.

You hate just how rebellious you like to be. “What, you gonna kiss me?”

The challenge is fleeting across his features and he leans down so quickly that you don’t have time to react. Your stomach flips with irritation at the implication that he would take from you without asking, and suddenly, you no longer want him touching you.

“I wouldn’t take it without asking,” he whispers in the small space between you both as if reading your thoughts. The tips of his raven locks brush against your cheek, there’s a slight kink in your neck from how you are looking up at him, but he’s so close that you don’t care. One of his hands skims up from your waist, caressing the curve of your ribs, and his thumb teasingly runs along the underside of your clothed breast. His touch is reactive in you, and you angle your body further into his actions. His gaze remains locked on yours, absorbing your very being without doing a thing and you’re fighting to stay in control.

“So can I?” he asks, voice deep with temptation. “Kiss you?”

You swallow the bucket of drool that has somehow pooled in the back of your throat in seconds. The thumping of your heart no longer fills your ears, replaced now by a deafening ringing, spurred by your growing desire as you open your mouth to respond.

“I…depends…are you any good?”

He nonchalantly shrugs, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as his scarred lips twist into a smirk. He’s completely calm and you can tell if you told him no, he would leave it alone entirely. But he’s enjoying this, you can see it all over his face.

“Jury’s still out.”

You don’t trust yourself to say ‘yes’. Some part of you feels like if it comes out of your mouth, it will sound too desperate and you want to stay in control as much as you can. But, you could give yourself this. You’ve earned it. Just one kiss and then you could hide away until the fireworks and then use the noise as a cover to leave. After all, he’s hot. He’s been so nice and honest and the warning siren in your mind has long faded.

You deserve a reward.

So you nod, stiffly but enough for him to notice, and the air seems to thin out again when he leans in a little more.

“Toji!” one of your uncles calls out, severing through the heavy cloud of lust between you both like a knife. You recoil from his touch, his touch now only making you itchy, and you pull from his embrace so that his arms unravel and his jacket slides off your shoulders. The cooler air is freezing this time against your skin. “Come help me with the fireworks, would you?”

You don’t pay attention to his response, because you’re already up on your feet and making your way inside the house. Your body floods with the embarrassment and shame of being caught by your family…kissing a man that you’ve just met. You know you shouldn’t care…but it’s so easy for their behavior to rub off on you when you feel vulnerable.

***

Thankfully, no one is in the kitchen when you finally make it inside. The music dulls down when you close the backyard door and the ringing in your ears is now silent.

You resolve to stay inside until the fireworks go off. No one is really paying attention to you anyway—most of them are drunk, others too absorbed in the music and gossip so it’s a perfect chance for you to duck away and show your face again next year.

Should you tell Toji goodbye?

No.

No, you hardly know the man. Just a few hours in good company and a kiss that almost happened that you probably would have let escalate. You probably would have let his tongue slide into your mouth. Probably would have let him pull you into one of the spare rooms, eat you out until you’re seeing stars, and then bend you over the edge of the bed to fuck you until he—

For fuck’s sake.

You yank open one of the kitchen cabinets in search of a glass. You need water because your body is piping hot. There’s a sheen of sweat on your neck beneath the layer of braids that fell when Toji laid his cheek on your head, and your hands are slick as they press into the counter to give you strength to peek into one of the lower shelves. Of course, the only one in the cabinet would be on the highest shelf. Of course, you’re too fucking short.

You climb onto the counter, knees digging into the off-white surface as you lift yourself up and peer into one of the higher shelves. You spot a glass, and you can have a heaping glass to cool yourself off enough to get you home. And then you can just use your vibrator once and go to sleep. Or twice. Or maybe a third time to get the thought of him out of your mind for the foreseeable future.

Unbeknownst to you, he’s standing behind you. You didn’t even hear the back door open and close. But you catch a glimpse of a long, muscular arm reaching past your ear to grab the glass. You’re frozen, your fingers digging into the wooden shelf, unable to turn around and face him, even though you can feel his gaze hot on your skin.

Your plan is shattered, and you have no choice but to come up with an excuse to leave him. You’re combing through scenarios in your mind as you slowly slide down and perch yourself on the countertop, finally facing him. He places the glass on the counter, away from you, and closes the distance between you until the ridges of his clothed abs brush against your knees. His hands are searing against your skin as they rest on your knees and you watch his thumbs trace an obscure pattern with a touch that is featherlight.

“Your uncle interrupted us,” Toji finally speaks, his voice carrying a hint of hopefulness despite his attempt to maintain a neutral expression. His gaze, so harsh and sharp, is alluring in its own way, tempting you to relax the steady clench of your thighs.

“It probably wasn’t a good idea anyway,” you chuckle, self-deprecation rising to the surface of your skin and prickling against the pores.

“Why not?”

Maybe because you would be too much for him and scare him away? Maybe the fear of being too demanding in bed, of not being able to stop once he kisses you, lingers in your thoughts, making the idea of having him only once and never again infuriating.

“I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want. I’ll get you water and let you sneak away when the fireworks go off because I know you want to…even though you shouldn’t give a fuck about what your family thinks…but I would really like that kiss.”

Analyzing his features, you take in the sincerity reflected in the moss-green of his eyes. It’s a last-ditch effort to make sure something else isn’t hiding there, and you find yourself coming up short.

Slowly, you part your legs for him to stand between. His hands slide up your thighs tantalizingly slow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake before pushing the fabric of your red sundress up to your waist. You try to ignore the way the cool air on your panties does little to quell the heat radiating from them. His hands wrap around your waist and a gasp heaves from your lips when he yanks you to him, your thighs brushing the sides of his thick waist.

One of the hands on your waist trails up to the side of your neck, gently tilting your head up, so you can look fully at him as his thumb traces the skin of your bottom lip.

“You better make it good,” you challenge, hoping your faux annoyance can mask the anticipation building in your gut.

He sees right through it and simply hums before he leans down to finally seal his lips against yours. He’s a big man, an overwhelming man, and you feel it in his kiss as his lips take every ounce of breath you have in your lungs. He tastes like the pound yellow cake that everyone got to before you could and a hint of beer and it’s the perfect combination that you want more of.

His hands are under your dress, brushing beneath your thighs for traction and pulling you impossibly closer to the point where you feel your clothed center brush against the zipper of his jeans. You dig your hands into the fabric of his shirt, twisting and silently commanding for him to give you more. You open your mouth to coax him and his tongue is wet and insistent against yours.

You can feel your resolve dissipating in the air, fizzling against the heat that radiates from your body and your self-control is walking on a tightrope, precariously and seconds away from falling. And once it’s gone, you’ll be a woman unhinged.

He yanks you to him again as if its not enough, harder this time with a growl in the back of his throat that makes you gasp into his mouth, then rolls his hips against yours and behind his zipper you feel him hard and bulging and angry and oh—

You pull away with a harsh breath, gasping for air and biting back a moan that gurgles in your throat when his mouth works its way down the skin of your neck. Your skin is sensitive, and it buzzes with the touch of his lips and invokes a fervent need so deep within you that you’re losing awareness of where you are. You’re lightheaded, brain in the fucking stratosphere and you have to lay down, you have to—

He’s guiding you onto your back before you can do it yourself and the cool counter is a balm against the skin of your exposed shoulders and back. He looms over you from his place between your legs, big and muscular and reeking of hunger.

“Toji,” you try to speak into the air, stifling a whimper at the sight of him stretching out your leg to rest on his shoulder.

One of his large hands caresses the canvas of your calf before you watch his lips kiss your chocolate skin. His rough scar scratches against you in the most delightful way as his mouth kisses up your calf, bends your leg to get closer, and then resumes his touch on the inside of your thigh. His face should be melting with the amount of heat emitting from between your legs, but he must relish in the burn because the second his tongue slides thick and wet against your clothed cunt, you whimper pathetically into the air.

You have just enough common sense to break from the desire to be fucked thoroughly to whisper.

“Toji, we can’t,” you swallow against the dryness in your throat. “Someone could see.”

You can feel the impatience on his body in waves but he has to listen to you. If your family were to walk in here right now to see their niece or cousin being eaten out like a gourmet meal, the Earth would swallow you whole.

“Shit,” he hisses, pulling you into his arms and carrying you out of the kitchen. You don’t care enough to tell him where to go; you’re too hot, too wet in your panties, and your need is twisting at the base of your spine in the most irritating way, begging to be soothed.

You hear the beginnings of fireworks being popped off in the backyard and your family is loud, thankfully so loud as Toji locks the door to the bathroom and drops you unceremoniously onto the counter. Though the metal of the faucet digs into the small of your back and you fall into the mirror as you clamber to get yourself in order, you can’t bring yourself to care. He’s on you again, all teeth and lips and sinful tongue in your mouth with equally sinful hands digging impatiently into the sides of your panties.

“Take them off,” you demand, practically whining and in less than a second you can only get one leg out before he’s sinking to his knees, eyes wild and shoulders heaving with untamed breaths.

“God, you’re so fucking wet. So damn pretty,” he whispers in reverence, throwing your legs over his shoulders, and the compliment makes your cunt throb in anticipation.

You can’t be sure if he’s talking to you or himself. Before you can breathe to calm yourself, it’s catching in your throat, hitching against a moan as his tongue licks a long wet stripe up the slit of your dripping cunt. His tongue parts your folds as if it’s the sea, savoring your essence and then sucking your clit into his mouth like it’s the cherry on top and you love it, whine at the feel, eyes crossing and rolling into the back of your head at the exquisite feeling.

He pulls away for a moment, taking a deep breath as if to regain control, and kisses the inside of your thigh before sliding two fingers up your dripping center, collecting your slick before beginning to rub circles on your clit. He’s mesmerized, and you take a moment to marvel at just how little of his green eyes are visible to you, his pupils are dilated with hunger and focused on the way your cunt moves with his fingers.

“Your bitch of an ex ever eat you out?”

You really don’t want to think about him right now, and you also don’t like the thought of someone feeling like they need to prove themselves to you.

But there’s a big man between your thighs who wants to unwrap you like candy. So you shrug, panting softly as you speak, “Every now and then.”

Toji scoffs, eyes seeming to darken like a forest at night.

“Every now and then,” he parrots, voice incredulous as if he’s heard the most insane thing ever, like he can’t believe it.

He increases the pressure on your clit harshly, causing you to buck against him, yelping in satisfied shock when he flicks your sensitive bud hard with his tongue.

“I’ll make you feel good, princess. Don’t you worry.”

The nickname doesn’t have the effect as before. No, this time you moan in response, your guts churning with satisfaction at the prospect of being worshiped.

Slowly the two fingers on your clit slide into you, testing the waters, gauging if you’re okay, and your jaw slackens at the feel of the stretch. Fingering is an art, an act that requires patience and skill. You have to know the right pace, when to curl, how to know a woman’s body to determine what she wants. It’s glorious when it’s done right.

And god, does Toji do it right.

He’s thorough and fluid in his strokes, using the tempo of your moans to curl at just the right time and sucking and licking your clit like he’s ravenous and your head is falling back into the space between your shoulder blades, eyes wide with disbelief as you stare at the ceiling.

The fireworks are consistent outside, popping off every second and it’s loud enough that you have the courage to voice how Toji is making you feel.

“Every now and then,” he hisses again to himself, angry and curling his fingers a little harder. You jerk against him, whimpering like a fool when you feel his tongue flick your clit harder as a reward. “He’s so fucking stupid. You taste so good, it’s unbelievable.”

He’s curling more now, brushing against that spongy wall that zings heat to your belly. Your insides churn, a molten heat popping to splatter against the base of your spine, pleasure coaxing you to reach that precipice that will let you fall apart.

Vaguely you hear him whispering words into the skin of your thighs that you can’t decipher, the thrumming in your ears too loud to hear anything else beyond the fireworks outside, your escalating moans, and the obscene sounds of him slurping you up. The muscles in your thighs begin to tighten, your fingers are sweaty as they slide against the cool marble of the bathroom counter, and you dig your wedges into the muscles of his back, white panties dangling off one ankle. He’s so good, so thorough and your breath is hitching, choking on a moan.

“There you go princess, cum all over my fingers. Get me nice and messy.”

His deep words are accompanied by a sharp bend of his fingers and you’re cumming with a shout, rejoicing in the hot pleasure that puddles along your bones. It’s abrupt and overwhelming, pulling a sharp current down your body that makes your back arch until it bumps into the sink behind you. He’s groaning from his place between your legs, still pumping his fingers and licking your clit to collect as much of your slick as he can.

By the time you look down at him, you’re still catching your breath, your thighs tremble from the sudden chill injected into your muscles. You catch Toji just in time to watch him begin to slip his two dripping fingers into his mouth, but you snatch his wrist, riding off the high of your orgasm to slip his digits into your mouth instead. Thin rings of green widen in surprise and you savor the way his cheeks darken as you swirl your tongue around his digits.

“You’re unreal,” he gulps when you pop his fingers out of your mouth.

You shrug, not willing to show him just how powerful you feel, and wrap your legs around his waist, panties still caught on the buckle of one of your wedges.

“I’m letting you be nice to me, remember? So what’s next?”

With a harsh pull, he stumbles closer to you, his hands slamming against the marble counter on either side of your waist. His breath hitches as you hastily undo his belt, eyes widening as he takes in the way you leer up at him.

“You got me a drink, defended my honor from my bitchy aunt, asked me about my family, ate my pussy…you wanna fuck me now?”

“I—” he starts, caught off guard by your forwardness.

“You want to bend me over this counter, make me look in the mirror while I take your cock? Smack my ass and make me beg for you to fill me up?”

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” Toji chokes on a nervous laugh, hissing when your fingers graze the sensitive skin above his belt.

“Is that a problem?”

The hair of his happy trail is faint and dark just like the hair on his head, and your touch makes his stomach bunch in sensation. He shakes his head in response and you want to laugh so bad at the sight of him struggling to swallow. You haven’t done anything to the man, but he’s sensitive to your touch, and that makes the blood in your veins sing.

“If you’re letting me have you, you can have it however you want.”

Arousal hums to life between your legs, and you can’t help but be turned on at how much he’s giving you. You want him now and while the prospect of being fucked over the counter was what you had hoped, if your family comes in and hears you taking it like a champ, you’ll never show your face again.

So when the door to your truck’s backseat closes, you’re climbing back on his lap, relaxing further into him with the knowledge that you can be as noisy as you want. Your uncle has a seven-month supply of fireworks and land in the middle of nowhere, Hennessey, and classics booming from his sound system… it’s going to be loud for a very long time.

You’re running on your own current of desire at this point, pawing at his shirt so he can finally yank it off his shoulders and you’re drooling. He’s glorious and you don’t hesitate to rub your hands down firm pectorals, between the abs on his torso, and along the musculature of his Adonis belt. He’s cut like a marble statue, something that takes a painstaking process to hammer and smooth over until the result is almost—

“Let me take you out,” he suddenly suggests, voice gravelly with want but insistent.

Huh?

You’re immediately puzzled, eyebrows dipping into a furrow as you try to decipher his words. His hair is wild, black strands splintering and bushy but still giving you a gateway to his eyes and you see that he’s completely serious.

“On…a date?” A lift of his thin eyebrow in reply and the reality of him actually showing interest flags dangerously against your desire to ride him into oblivion. “Just the dopamine talking, I’m sure,” you say, hoping to dismiss the idea. You hadn’t expected him to actually…want to take you out. You can’t think about that right now because your head is too thick with hunger to try and have a conversation.

He hums, low and dangerous, a hand brushing the skin above your clit and you’re reminded of just how wet you still are from his sloppy tongue minutes before.

“You’re the only one here that’s cum, princess. I’m being serious.”

“It’ll pass,” you reply immediately, licking into his mouth to shut him up.

Thankfully he doesn’t try to interject because you don’t have time to talk right now—you don’t want to. You don’t know Toji, not well enough. While tonight has been one of the most relaxed evenings you’ve spent with a man in a long time, you’re unsure if he genuinely wants you or if he’s merely carried away by the thrill of being with a woman.

He tried to come onto you the minute he laid eyes on you, tried to kiss you after a few hours, and pocketed your panties even though you pretended to be oblivious. You just don’t know. If you had a pretty girl in your lap, you would probably say the same things. Ask her on a date, make her feel wanted so she’s more giving when you slide her panties off.

It’ll pass.

And that’s what you tell yourself when you feel his large hands palm your ass beneath your sundress. You are teeth against him, nipping his tongue, biting the skin of his jaw, the meat of his neck, and the sharp groan that you pull from him in response makes you drip like a bitch in heat against his jeans.

“Take off your pants,” you whisper to him sharply, turning around and leaning over the center console to fish a condom from inside. You had discovered them months ago, and they should have been more than enough for you to dump your ex then.

“Shit,” you hear Toji hiss from behind you before your ass stings from his slap against it. You yelp, jumping from the contact and you hope he can see your cunt pulse from between your thighs in response. “Hurry up, baby.”

When you face him again, you freeze, eyes widening at the sight of his cock. As you take him in, he snatches the condom from your hand and unfurls it on his cock.

Surprisingly trimmed with dark hair, he’s thick—not enough to be painful—but enough to enjoy the stretch so you can ride him until he flatlines and enjoy the ache in your thighs in the morning. It’s perfect; pale with a red tip that leaks into the tip of the condom, a vein along the side that you can’t lick without tasting latex. It’s a shame.

He throws you that devilish smirk, eyes twinkling in pride before he taps his thigh and beckons you like the best ride at the carnival.

“Hop on, princess.”

Your fingers grip the hair at his nape when you feel him inside of you. It’s a delicious stretch that you have to breathe through, and the feel of his hands affectionately stroking your back catches you off guard. You don’t hate it; in fact, you want to lean into it, but you don’t want to give him any ammunition for something you aren’t sure about. So you slide down to the hilt and listen to Toji curse sharply through the sudden heat of you before you start a steady rhythm that throws him off.

Within seconds, you increase your pace, riding him with an intensity that makes the air in your throat catch and drag along the sides. He’s got a satisfying curve to him that grazes those magical spots within you to make the grip on his nape tighten like a vice. Your head is foggy with an overpowering mist that makes your mouth loose and your inhibitions low.

“You feel so good,” he whispers, pulling you out of the delirium you were basking in to focus on him. His jaw is relaxed, hot air puffing from between an open mouth and onto the skin of your neck, a few strands of his hair stick to his forehead and the sides of his cheeks and there’s a slight furrow to his thin eyebrows as if he’s trying to concentrate.

You’re giddy with desire. “Let me guess,” you tease, lips brushing against his. “Am I tight?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation, eyelids hooded and upper cheeks darkening with a blush that spreads down his neck.

“Am I nice and hot?”

“Yes, fuck yes, baby.”

It’s meant to tease, because every man that has ever slid inside of you in the past says the same shit, but to hear it from him brings a strange sense of satisfaction that you find yourself slanting your lips against his. He still tastes like the yellow cake that you never got, but the flavor is intertwined with the remnants of your essence that still lingers on his tongue that dances with yours.

You plant your knees harder into the seat on each side of him, use your muscles to bear down and give you more control, and then you roll your hips, guiding him in and out in a tantalizing dance that elicits groans from him and makes him roll his head back against the headrest.

“Let me take you out,” he gasps into the air and you refuse to answer him—you can’t. It’s harder now to believe his sincerity because he’s delirious with lust. “Answer me.”

You growl softly and yank your hands from his hair to push down the straps of your sundress. You’re not wearing a bra, and he cusses like he just stubbed his toe as he watches your breasts spill free.

“Stop talking,” you whisper and yank his head forward, beckoning him to you and he catches on quickly, licking and sucking a nipple before pulling it into his mouth. The sensation makes you shudder, a gentle pleasure that your cunt appreciates and you pick up your pace on him again. “Stop asking me. Just let me fuck you.”

He bites down in retaliation to pull a squeak from you and licks over the sting in a half-assed apology. When you look down, his gaze is illuminated by the streetlights, a harsh glare that showcases his annoyance with your deflection, but his eyes droop when you squeeze around him in response.

You’re stuffed full of him, stretching along the sides, punching the air out of your throat with each bounce on his cock and your legs begin to burn with the build-up of exertion. Your nipples are wet and sensitive against his taste buds as he teases each peak into his hot mouth and it helps to mix that pot of pleasure in your stomach to life again.

You can feel it, like a crescendo of waves crashing against a dock, but the waves are coming in quicker and more turbulent with every moan and cry that falls from your lips. You push him off of your chest, dig your fingers into his shoulders for more leverage so you can ride his cock like you have nothing left to lose.

His chest is blooming red, covered in a light sheen of sweat that dips between his pectorals and pools in his collarbones. Your bun of braids came loose when he was eating you out in the bathroom, and now some are heavy on your skin with sweat and plaster over your shoulders and between your sternum and you’re hot and sweaty and trying so hard to reign it in.

He doesn’t buck up into you and you’re unsure if it’s due to laziness or the fact that he simply wants to watch you while he brings himself closer to climax. You hope it’s the latter.

“Do you like this?” you pant into his mouth and nip his bottom lip. “You can tell me, you know. Be a good boy and tell me just how I’m making you feel.”

He groans and lands another smack to your ass that makes you gasp and arch further into him. It's the right amount of pain that makes your pussy pulse in response, the right amount of manhandling that can take you higher in a second.

“You’re a natural, princess. You ever ride him like this?”

You shake your head and he smacks your ass again, harder this time and digs his fingertips into the flesh to let the sting linger. It's so good, and you can't help the whine that you puff against his lips as he smirks up at you with a proud disposition.

“He couldn’t handle it. Probably why he cheated wasn’t it? You were too much for him. You know how you like it and he couldn’t deliver.”

You don’t answer him, but he’s right. He’s so right. He couldn’t stand it when you took control, hated when you asked him to do something that didn’t result in him being dominant, hated when he couldn’t even eat pussy without you having to ask.

The feel of his fingers on your clit makes you jump and you poke your fingers into his nape again and pick up your pace, panting and moaning like you’re running a marathon as the pleasure rocks inside of you like a pendulum.

“Oh god. Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you whisper, stomach burning.

You’re fluttering around him—pulsing and clenching and gushing over the thickest cock you’ve ever had and it’s glorious, you’re in fucking heaven.

The streetlight shines faintly into your truck, painting half of Toji’s face. He’s beautiful; that same annoying flicker of desire that captivated you when his green eyes met yours hours ago glimmers thin and dilated.

There’s a ruggedness to him that exudes masculinity, but glimpses into the depths of his eyes reveal a tender vulnerability that makes you wonder how soft he could be if he allowed you to get close enough.

The thought makes your cunt tighten around him, your thighs tense and fill with lactic acid and his fingers on your clit are unceasing, rubbing in a precise rhythm that makes you hiccup on a moan of incredulity. The hand not occupied with your clit is reclined across the headrest behind him and it makes him look unbearably sexy.

“I’ve never had a woman ride me like this,” he whispers, and you smile into his mouth, your kiss messy as you swallow down his compliment. He yanks you away and breathes that same insufferable ask against your lips.

“Let me take you out.” He rubs your clit faster, using the way you tighten around him as a guide to your pleasure, and his hand leaves the headrest to dig into the meat of your ass. “One chance. One dinner. I’ll give you what you deserve, whatever you want, princess. I promise just—”

“Stop it,” you whine and fight the burning sensation in your eyes. You’re so close, so fucking close and the storm inside of you is out of control but he won’t stop fucking talking. Won’t stop being so damn nice even though his cock is rearranging your guts in the nastiest way. You grip his hair and pull him closer to you so there’s no space between you to breathe. “Stop talking. Stop asking. Make yourself useful and make me cum.”

Thankfully he does. He scowls up at you behind the curtain of his hair but pinches your clit and you squeal, rolling your hips, riding him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. The windows have already fogged up, the truck rocks with your movements, and you are consumed with a blissful incoherence that forces you to surrender and let your walls crumble.

Your thighs burn, your dress clings to your sweaty body, and the stimulation on your clit becomes almost unbearable as you whine with the need to cum. He hisses loudly into the car, bares his teeth for a second, and then his eyes roll before he’s slack-jawed and panting into stuffy air, a current of groans beneath.

“That’s it, Toji,” you gasp, voice strained as you teeter on the brink of an orgasm that threatens to overwhelm you. “Be nice to me just like you said and give me everything like the good boy you are.”

The hand not on your clit slips against the sweat on your hips, and you lick up the side of his neck, savoring the salt taste of his perspiration on his smooth skin, just in time to hear him. It’s faint and low, practically a whisper but he chants--

‘Fuck yes, fuck yes. So fucking good. Ride me, sweetheart.’

It’s tilted in a whine, pathetically desperate, but the sound of him does the trick because the flick of his fingers on your clit makes the biggest wave of pleasure crash over you.

You don’t get the chance to tell him you’re cumming, you simply yank his head back from the sudden force, tilt your head up to the ceiling and cum with an exhausted and wrung out ‘fuck!’ that you’re sure your uncle’s neighbors will hear a mile down the road. You’re dumbfounded with pleasure, dizzy with it and your belly is hot and simmering as you gasp and whimper at just how good it feels.

He’s laying you back on the seat before you can catch your breath. You’re still coming down, still moaning to catch up but his large hands are under your knees and bending them towards your chest to chase his own orgasm. The edge of the seat digs into the crevice of your spine, and your hand flies out to smack against the back of the driver’s seat so you don’t fall but it slips with sweat, is hard to hold onto and you can hardly focus with everything that’s going on.

His mouth is on you, stealing your breath that you still can’t control, swallowing your moans as he fucks you with a ferocity that pulls your soul from your body. He pulls away with a deep moan and stares down at you with a look that makes you anxious—like he wants to see you again, like he wants to come to another cookout with your rowdy family if it means he can bother you some more—like he really likes you.

You know he’s going to try and say something that you may not be able to talk yourself out of, so you take the intense furrow in his eyebrows and the stuttering of his hips as a cue.

“You gonna cum?” you purr up at him, moaning weakly from the harsh thrusts that stroke you into overstimulation.

“Yes,” he answers without fail, eyes locked on yours. “Yes, I’m gonna cum. Fuck—”

Reaching up, you cup his cheek, unsure why but feeling an inexplicable need, and the words that fall from your lips help him across the finish line.

“Cum inside me, Toji. Take what you want and fill me up.”

His eyes widen before they roll closed and he’s slamming against you three times hard and rough before the deepest moan you’ve ever heard slips past his lips. He pants heavily stuttering tiny thrusts into you as he comes down, the tips of his hair drip a few drops of sweat onto your neck before he lowers himself to rest on top of you. He’s too big for the seat and his knee digs into the floor of the truck to maintain his balance. His hot breath washes over your neck, slowly calming down, and in your daze, you realize that you’re holding onto his shoulders.

The hard lines of Toji that you noted when you first saw him now feel gentle against you.

He rumbles your name into your neck and you’re cutting him off before the dopamine can speak for him.

“We should get back inside before someone finally notices that we’ve been gone.” He abruptly lifts to look down at you, annoyance etched on his devastatingly handsome face. He wants to argue, you can taste it, but your fear wins. “My bitchy aunt has been at me all night, the last thing I need is her snooping.”

He’s quiet still, the edge of his lips curling into a dissatisfied frown. It stretches his scar in a way that takes away from the beauty of his face. Makes him look more alien and you have to pull your gaze from him. But he doesn’t argue like you think he would. He doesn’t speak or try to talk back or voice how annoyed he is.

He slowly pulls out of you and you immediately miss the feeling, ties off the condom, and pulls you up tenderly from the seat. Your skin is sticky and the truck reeks of sex. The high has worn off and all that remains is the overwhelming unease that rises like bile in the back of your throat.

When you both are finally dressed and creeping out of the backseat, the cool air is a welcome feel to your overheated skin. It washes away your trepidation, if only for a moment. Toji looms over you, tall like a bear that you desperately want to sink your embrace back into, but he still doesn’t speak, and the crease of annoyance between his brows doesn’t leave. He should hold onto it. It will help him get over you.

“Do you mind getting my purse from inside the house? I don’t want to go back inside just yet and I need to check my phone.”

Impatience emanates from his every pore, yet you can sense his anxiety as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. But he still doesn’t fight and makes his way back inside without a word.

You lied.

Your purse is in the front seat of your car—you threw it up there when you both snuck into the vehicle in the first place, but his attention was too busy trying to feel you up than pay attention to the satchel hanging off your shoulder.

Once you see the front door close, you get into the front seat, start your car, and drive away without a second thought. Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly as the temptation to turn back tugs at you.

It may not be right to leave without saying goodbye, and lying to him has left a bitter taste in your mouth. Your family is too occupied with the fireworks and each other’s company to really notice your absence anyway, and you’re sure they’ll have no problem trying to distract Toji when he realizes that you’re gone.

The grip on the wheel doesn’t lessen, but you roll down the windows and let the evening July air wash away some of the sex that still lingers on the seats.

***

“So you did fuck him,” your cousin snickers over the speaker of your phone a week later.

It’s a Saturday night and you’re knee-deep in your wash day routine. It took you all day to take out your braids and the clear shower cap on your head traps the deep conditioner inside. You wipe away some of the excess near your ear.

You have Chinese waiting to be delivered, and you’re ready to finish your routine so you can go to bed. Your eyes are glued to your television playing some sort of nature documentary but your attention is elsewhere, specifically on trying to worm your way out of this conversation with your cousin. She’s called you every single day since the 4th and she’s done nothing but make you feel guilty about your abrupt departure.

As you expected, your family didn’t really notice your absence. But when Toji asked your cousin for your purse and then realized you had lied, he sulked in a lawn chair for the rest of the night before Shiu drove him home.

“Yes, I fucked him. So what?”

“Soooo do something about it. Fuck him again? He lives in the same city as you and is here indefinitely. Make a move—”

“It was a nice night, but he was already trying to flirt with me as soon as he saw me and I still entertained him and fucked him and—I shouldn’t have done that…I should have waited, maybe tested the waters more. He only tried to ask me out because he was horny as hell.”

She’s quiet on the other line, and you look up at the ceiling in exasperation because you can feel her annoying logic rev up before she fires away.

“So you’re just scared? Your ex cheated on you because he was a spineless pissy boy who slithered away because you didn’t take his shit. That’s not a reflection of you, at all. I know you like to have it all figured out before you make a decision, but not everything works out that way. Toji saw a fine ass black woman who talks her shit and he made a move. He’s a nice guy...a little rough around the edges, but truly…a nice guy. Someone for you.”

James Attenborough elegantly voices something about the cuttlefish on the screen while you try to contemplate what to say. She’s right. You hate that she’s right. It’s why you two are so close but still you retort in the best way you know how.

“Girl, fuck you.”

Her raucous laugh vibrates over the speaker in delight and you snort and roll your eyes when the doorbell cuts you off. The prospect of your Chinese food makes your mouth water and you’re rushing to the door.

Only it’s not your Chinese food at the doorstep, it’s Toji Fushiguro. Toji Fushiguro who is protected from the rain under the overhang of your apartment door with one hand in the pocket of his jacket and the other clutching a container. The annoyed look that you last saw on his face is gone, replaced by a neutral and bored look that seems natural for him, even though his eyes don’t convey that specific emotion. Those green eyes are reminiscent of your uncle’s well-maintained lawn as they look down at you with a nervous glint.

“Toji,” you breathe in disbelief. “How did you get my address…”

Your cousin squawks on the other line and swallows a giggle. “I’m gonna go—”

“Your cousin finally gave it to me.,” he replies simply and gestures down to the phone in your tight grip. “I’ve been trying to get it since you fucking left.”

“Damn, thanks?!” she barks at him. “Lemme get out of here, I’m getting another call anyway. Bye!”

You’re going to kill her. Slowly. Painfully and maybe in front of Shiu to get a few tears out of him if you’re feeling particularly evil.

You know she’s right about Toji, but you can’t do this. You shouldn’t have fucked him in the first place and you should have thought of a backup plan on the off chance that your cousin was going to be annoying and nosy as hell.

You ignore his intense and heavy gaze, shifting in discomfort, scratch the back of your neck, and blanch in horror when your fingers brush the edge of your shower cap. You’re wearing a large t-shirt, your feet are bare and your head is covered in a shower cap with deep conditioner leaking from the sides; a stark contrast from the calm and collected woman who snapped at him all day a week ago. Mortification washes over you in a heavy wave, drowning your mantra of not giving a fuck about a man’s opinion, and you step back to grab the door.

“Listen…I’m waiting for food and then I have to get ready for work in the morning. So you need—”

“You have time to spare then,” he cuts off and walks past you. You round on him, indignant in your gaze.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?! Get out, Toji!”

“You want me to leave? Hmm?” he asks, goading you like you don’t know if you’re sure.

You’re not sure, but—“Yes, goddammit! I shouldn’t have left but I don’t do this sort of thing! The moment you met me, you only wanted to get in my pants. And that makes you trying to ask me out while your cock is inside of me, a lot harder to believe!”

He firmly places the container in his hands on your kitchen counter, takes a deep breath to calm himself, and gives you a look that either makes you want to melt into him or slap it off his face.

“Listen—”

You’re on the defensive now, backed into a corner and ready to pull every card you have to just make him go away. “You here for a quick fuck then? Because you got me to let my guard down and because we had such a steamy time in the backseat of my truck, you thought, what? You could just show up and bend me over my couch?”

That flicker of irritation is back on his face and it crinkles the edges of his eyes, makes him look nasty and hostile.

“Fuck, will you stop—”

“Wanna have a little ��situationship’ while you get acquainted with your new life here? Have me get nice and comfortable and as soon as I ask for something more, you’re jumping ship. Sounds like a good plan, doesn’t it?”

A sharp growl leaves his throat and he glares.

“Girl—” he starts and immediately stops, eyes wide as saucers at the venomous gaze that you shoot his way. There it is, a hint of a name to make you feel small and insignificant. It reminds you of your parents when you used to talk back and they slid the name to you in a warning to stop talking. You hate it and it stings that you have to hear it from him.

“Get out,” you bark, seething with a rage that brings a sting to your eyes.

He throws up his hands in frustration, looming like a bear from his place in your kitchen. “Will you just stop it!”

“I said—”

“Oh my fucking god—I like you!”

His admission catches you off guard, cutting through your anger, and you stare at him in astonishment. His face is red with embarrassment, eyes trained up at the ceiling as if asking the gods to give him patience. He takes a deep breath before meeting your gaze from across the kitchen.

“You don’t do this sort of thing?” he asks, gesturing between the two of you. You can’t find the words to respond, still too shocked, so you simply nod.

“What sort of thing is that? Flirting with you because you looked like the sexiest little thing in that backyard and I wanted your attention?” He’s annoyed, deep voice razor sharp as he speaks, but you don’t miss the step he takes closer to you.

“Me trying to make you feel better because your family is judgmental? Teaching me about the food you like because I’m not from here?”

He’s closer now and the air is thin again just like that night a week ago.

“Helping me win that little card game?” It’s spades, but you’re too lightheaded with how close he is to correct him. “Telling me about your family? What sort of thing is that? Hmm? Tell me.”

You don’t have a retort. You’re too stunned to speak even though you refuse to let the annoyed expression on your face vanish. You want to hold onto what little shreds of defiance you have left.

“You aren’t mean. You don’t tolerate bullshit, you don’t fuck around, and you put people in their place. You refuse to settle for less, and I already told you that’s what I like in a woman…And I like you.”

What do you even say? You never expected to see him again, and your mind is muddled as if you’re submerged in water. Your heart feels too big in your chest, your body too hot and sweaty and you’re nervous. He’s angry with his confession, almost annoyed and you’re beginning to realize that it is an emotion that’s second nature to him even if it’s not as intense as you think it is.

“Is that right?” you can’t help but test him, lifting a brow. You have to crane your neck just a little to look up at him.

He scoffs, the crease in his eyebrows smooths out and the scar on his lips twitches.

“Yea, that's fucking right. So…” he takes one more step closer and his body is brushing against yours. He smells mildly of toothpaste and bergamot from another brand of cheap cologne and the combination makes you weak in the knees. “Let me take you out.”

It’s the same demand that you’ve heard so many times now, but this time, it feels more serious, more meaningful with a hint of desperation. In the kitchen light, you can see just how silky his raven locks are and you grip your phone and the fabric of your t-shirt to resist the urge to run your hands through them.

“I’m listening,” you jest with a practiced air.

That wicked smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, scar adding a devilish flair to his features, and your stomach burns with the realization that he’s too cocky for his own good, and you’ve unfortunately grown to like it.

“Shiu has tickets for something here called…football? He’s taking your cousin and has two extra tickets. Come with me and show me how to win.”

You can’t help the snort that leaves your mouth and your stomach flips at the genuine confusion on his face. “We don’t participate in the game. We watch it. But it’s fun.”

“All the more reason for you to come with me.”

“I…”

It’s a compelling argument, all of it is. And you want to, you really want to give this a shot and just be vulnerable for once. Because Toji seems like the kind of man who would let you be just who you are and would never make you feel lesser than about it.

The feel of his large hands cupping your cheeks pulls you out of your thoughts, and he tilts your face up to meet his gaze. His eyes are mesmerizing, like the color of pine trees right before the sun sets and you feel yourself weakening completely.

“One date, princess.”

The deep timbre of his voice does little to help you and it’s worse because it’s just how he fucking talks. You’re not a royal, and you don’t have land, lots of money, or power, but you can tolerate ‘princess’ if it’s coming from his mouth.

Just one date. You deserve it. You’ve earned the reward.

You wave away his hands from your face just so you can breathe a little easier. He chuckles but gives you your space, and makes his way to the door that you usher him towards.

“Fine. Make sure you bring cash because it’s easier at the concession stands. I want a pretzel…and a hot dog.”

He snickers as he pulls his hood over his head, obscuring most of his face except for the ethereal glow of his eyes. His teeth shine from his bright smile and you roll your eyes in response before watching him open your door.

“Toji?” you call, your voice softer…apprehensive.

He turns around to watch you shuffle to him, your feet and legs cold against the chill from the open door. You hand him your phone wordlessly and he takes the hint to insert his number. When he’s finished, you open your mouth to speak, lips shaping words that won’t come out—words you want to say. But you can’t. Not yet. Maybe one day.

For now, you throw him an annoyed eyebrow lift and grumble. “Parking is a real bitch, so pick me up early.”

You avert your gaze, frustrated at yourself for sounding so mean as usual. Because that’s just who you are. The bitter, mean—

A finger beneath your chin lifts your gaze to him and he kisses you full on the mouth, slow and reassuring, minty breath sliding into your mouth when he nips your bottom lip. The self-deprecating voice in your head finally quiets, smothered by a pillow held down by his scarred hands.

When he pulls away, that stupid smirk is on his face, but it’s not as teasing, and your heart does something weird in your chest that makes you swallow hard.

“Yes ma’am,” he replies finally to your demand.

You watch his eyes take in your form from head to toe before he kisses you quickly once more and ducks into the rain.

When you finally get your Chinese and place it on the counter to dig in, your eyes land on the container that was in Toji’s hands from earlier.

You peek inside, and your heart does that weird thing again in your chest when you see a heaping slice of the yellow cake that you never got to have a week ago.

Thanks for reading! You can find the sequel here!

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stall1iion · 7 months ago

Text

champions love - six

liked by maxverstappen1, logansargeant, bsf1, bsf2, and many others

y/n.jpg nice to be back home for the weekend

tagged: bsf1, bsf2

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logansargeant happy fourth y/n 💀🤣

⤷y/n.jpg Logan! Pull up man

⤷logansargeant am I being invited to the cookout?

⤷y/n.jpg I- 💀🤣sure Logan, just text me

bsf1 we look so hot omg 😍🥵

⤷y/n.jpg we do 🤭

⤷bsf2 was that even a question? 🤭🤭

lilymhe 😔i miss you wifey

⤷y/n.jpg i miss you too! Don’t worry I’ll be back next week 🫶🏾

⤷alexalbon um? Wifey? 😐

⤷y/n.jpg call me Mr. Steal your bitch 😋

maxverstappen1 will you bring me back some food?

⤷y/n.jpg so needy 🙄😂 yeah I’ll bring you a plate but you do know you could just come?

⤷maxverstappen1 oh- you so right

username5 happy Fourth of July Y/n!

username9 omg will we potentially get pictures of Logan finally being around people who care about him?

⤷username12 💀moot what you being messy for?

username7 stop this friend group is so hot and for what?

liked by maxverstappen1, logansargeant, f1wags, and many others

y/n.jpg no one told me I would be dealing with two unhinged blondes 😭😞free me

tagged: bsf1, bsf2, logansargeant

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bsf2 we are not unhinged

⤷logansargeant agreed 😁

⤷bsf1 yes you two are

⤷y/n.jpg you both decided it would be a good idea to climb into a baby swing and got stuck 💀😐

⤷logansargeant that did not happen??

⤷y/n.jpg tell that to the fire station that cut you out 💀

username4 omg 🤣he actually pulled up

maxverstappen1 help is on the way dear!!

⤷y/n.jpg did you just 😍quote a meme to me 🤭

⤷logansargeant oh good god 💀plz keep this pg 13 there’s kids on here

⤷y/n.jpg girl…fuck them kids 🤭and fuck you too 🖕🏾

username7 and where’s max? Like how is some guy who can't even drive around my girl alone?

⤷username88 ooo yeah it's giving insecure, good luck to any person you date

username76 are we just going to ignore that Logan and Ashley got stuck in a baby swing 💀

⤷username103 and the fire department had to cut them out 💀

⤷logansargeant yes

⤷bsf2 yes we are

username9 see if I was max i wouldn’t let some guy be all cozy with my girl like that

⤷username5 friend what are you talking about? What cozying you see bc i see logan getting cozy with Ashley if that’s what you mean

username2 so um, anyone else getting chemistry from Logan and her best friend??

⤷username10 oh my god yes, thank you, I thought I was the only one 😭

⤷username23 stop 😵i hope not, they lowkey look like siblings

⤷username55 STOP WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT LMAO??

53,351 likes

y/n.jpg Proud to have introduced the boys to the y/n version of 7/4 🫡happy 7/4 to america 💋

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username7 NOT AMERICAN BUT HAPPY 4TH OF JULY!

username9 not the max picture cuz ppl was talking shit on the last photo 💀

⤷username2 logan looks like he’s either third wheeling or being babysat 💀😂

username10 HAPPY 7/4

username4 HAPPY 7/4

username33 HAPPY 7/4

username69 HAPPY 7/4

username74 HAPPY 7/4

username99 RAWWWW 🦅HAPPY INDEPENDENCE TO THE BEST COUNTRY

⤷username98 they gon get you girl but real💀

bsf1 AHHH WE LOOK SO GOOD IN THE LAST PHOTO, W AURAAAAAA

bsf2 WHERE ARE YOU?? WE’RE TRYING TO TAKE A TRIO PIC WITH THE FIREWORKS??

⤷bsf1 OH MY GOD TURN AROUND!!!

⤷username77 WHAT’S GOING ON?? WHAT ARE WE MISSING??

⤷username61 SHOW IT TO US PLEASE!! SHOW IT TO US RACHEL!

caption: look at these lovebirds over here 💀

⤷bsf1 she’s gonna kill you once she sees this

⤷bsf2 she was the one who kissed him 💀and she can’t even lie and say she was possibly drunk this time

⤷bsf2 miss “I don’t date drivers”

comments

F1lover stop ✋ maybe she’s just busy and will fly in the day of the race

loveuy/n she looks good tho 😭what was she even doing??

lo3vmax maybe she has practice?

⤷mrssainz yeah but max hasn’t said anything about her not coming yet

y/nhater I don’t know maybe she finally realized their little pr relationship isn’t working anymore

winter<3 she looks really hungover, maybe she was waiting before flying so she wouldn’t have to deal with that

→ DUH DUH DUH!!! We have names for our best friends now! 💀(I did not mean for that to happen lol)

→ If you want, we can vote on the other best friend’s name! Send in a request for names and we can poll!!

Anyways back to normal programing

→ Yes the cookout is a reference to a black cookout but you can take that as a normal bbq

→ Logan x Ashley? 👀we’ll see

→ Logan is officially a part of the gang yay!!

→ Yes, Y/N did in fact block Max after the kiss (she left immediately and screamed in her pillow for at least 30 minutes)

→ Is Y/n going to Silverstone?? I guess we’ll never know…..jk you’ll know in the next chapter mwah 💋

Author’s note!

I finished this up faster than I thought I would 💀I originally planned to wait till July 4th to actually post this but then I was like…nahhhh next chapter will have the race, max and y/n talking (more denial yay! 😁) I now get why writers love the good old miscommunication, it’s so much fun to write 😈

taglist: @boiohboii @ale-522 @ietss @theseerbetweenus @jaxx-7 @sainzluvrr @the-untamed-soul @ashy-kit @hc-dutch @nichmeddar @delululeclerc @sweate-r-weathe-r @dhanihamidi @tellybearryyyy @luvsforme @samantha-chicago @theblueblub

༉‧₊˚ CHAMPIONS LOVE ༉‧₊˚

⤷ Following the messy breakup between Max Verstappen and Kelly Piquet, Max’s manager comes up with a solution to divert the attention – a fake relationship. His new girlfriend? Two time olympic gold medalist figure skater, y/n for the USA team. Easy? Well…

#f1 smau #champions love ♡#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen smau #max verstappen x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #formula one x black reader

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gyorouis · 7 days ago

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── ✦ blue back into me.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⋆ synopsis ⸝⸝ and in that darkness, you realized that the boy you loved was already gone.

꒰ genre⸝⸝ heavy angst, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, lovers to (??) fluff, suggestive (slight) pairing⸝⸝ bf!yeonjun x afab!reader (soobin, beomgyu, jay, sunghoon, and jungwon mentioned) wc⸝⸝ 27.4k warning⸝⸝ this story contains themes of emotional distress, heartbreak, regret, and bittersweet endings. it explores the complexities of love, self-worth, and the weight of unspoken expectations. proceed with care if sensitive to these themes. tune in⸝⸝ blue back into me playlist ୨ৎ ꒱

seventeen. you were seventeen years old when he first held your hand. your childhood best friend, yeonjun.

it was a cool autumn evening, the kind where the air carried a faint crispness, and the fading sunlight painted the world in hues of gold and amber. you were walking back home from school, his backpack slung over one shoulder, your shared laughter echoing down the quiet street.

it wasn’t the first time your hands had brushed—years of friendship meant countless high-fives, casual nudges, and playful shoves. but this time, his fingers lingered, tentative but steady, until they intertwined with yours. his palm was warm, a contrast to the chilly air, and you felt your cheeks burn.

“what?” he asked, looking at you with that familiar grin, though his eyes held something softer, something new.

“nothing,” you mumbled, though your heart was racing, your steps slower now, as if to make the moment last longer.

but to understand how you got there—to that perfect, terrifying, wonderful moment—you’d have to go back to the very beginning.

it was a sweltering july afternoon, the kind of heat that made the neighborhood pool the most coveted spot in town. your parents had taken you there to cool off, but between the towering slides, the screaming kids, and the endless sea of unfamiliar faces, you quickly felt out of place.

“stay close,” your mom had said, her voice barely audible over the chaos. but curiosity got the better of you. you wandered toward the deep end, mesmerized by the older kids diving effortlessly into the water.

that’s when you realized you were lost.

“mom?” you called out, your voice trembling, but the crowd swallowed your words.

“are you okay?”

you turned to see a boy about your age, dripping wet with a towel slung around his neck. his dark hair clung to his forehead, and he had an air of confidence that felt out of place for someone so young.

“i’m—i can’t find my parents,” you admitted, tears threatening to spill.

“don’t cry,” he said quickly, his voice surprisingly gentle. “my dad’s the lifeguard here. i can help.”

he grabbed your hand without waiting for a response, his grip firm but reassuring. weaving through the crowd like he owned the place, he led you to the lifeguard station, where your parents were frantically scanning the pool.

“found her near the diving boards,” he announced casually, as if it were no big deal.

“oh, thank goodness!” your mom exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug. “thank you so much, young man.”

he shrugged, flashing a grin that showed off his slightly crooked front teeth. “just doing my job.”

you stared at him, a mixture of awe and embarrassment swirling in your chest. “thanks... uh...”

“yeonjun,” he said, giving you a mock salute. “and you are?”

you mumbled your name, feeling suddenly shy under his confident gaze.

“nice to meet you,” he said, ruffling your hair like you were old friends. “maybe i’ll see you around.”

you didn’t think you’d actually see him again. but the universe, in its strange sense of humor, had other plans.

a week after the pool incident, your mom handed you a carton of eggs with the kind of authority that made refusal impossible.

“take these to the new neighbors,” she instructed, her hands on her hips as if to emphasize the importance of the task. “we’ve been meaning to welcome them for weeks. honestly, it’s a little embarrassing we haven’t yet.”

“why can’t someone else do it?” you grumbled, eyeing the carton as if it were some impossible burden.

“because your brothers are useless at remembering their manners, and you need to learn to be neighborly,” she retorted. “just go.”

so there you were, trudging down the driveway in the sweltering heat, clutching the eggs like they might explode if you weren’t careful. the whole way, you muttered under your breath about how unfair it was to be roped into such chores.

the house next door was modest but welcoming, with a small garden out front and a wind chime that tinkled softly in the breeze. you hesitated for a moment, debating whether to knock and run just to avoid the awkward conversation. but you weren’t a coward. squaring your shoulders, you knocked.

the door swung open almost instantly, and there he was.

“lifeguard!” you blurted out, your brain short-circuiting.

the boy from the pool—the one who had found you when you were lost and made it look so effortless—stood in the doorway, a lopsided grin spreading across his face.

his eyes widened in recognition, then crinkled with amusement. “oh, it’s you!”

you stood frozen, staring at him like he’d just stepped out of a dream and into your reality.

he leaned casually against the doorframe, his presence somehow both relaxed and magnetic. “uh, it’s yeonjun,” he corrected, though his tone was playful. “but yeah, that’s me.”

“you live here?” you asked, your voice higher-pitched than you intended.

“since, like, five months ago,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “your parents never told you?”

“they might have mentioned something,” you mumbled, your cheeks heating under his gaze.

the truth was, your parents had mentioned the new neighbors. several times, actually. they’d even hinted that you should introduce yourself, but you’d always found an excuse. you swore you’d never seen him before—how could you have missed someone like him?

but as if reading your mind, yeonjun smirked. “you know, i’ve seen you around.”

“what?”

he shrugged, crossing his arms. “you’re always out in your yard. playing badminton with your friends, arguing with your brothers, sitting under that big tree when you’re reading.”

your mouth fell open. “you’ve been spying on me?”

“spying? no.” he grinned, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. “just... noticing.”

“creepy,” you shot back, though your heart was hammering in your chest.

“says the person who called me ‘lifeguard’ instead of my name,” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

you wanted to argue, but the words stuck in your throat. instead, you thrust the carton of eggs toward him, desperate to end the conversation before your face combusted.

“here,” you said, avoiding his gaze. “welcome to the neighborhood or whatever.”

his grin widened as he took the carton. “thanks. i guess this means we’re officially neighbors now.”

you nodded, taking a step back, but before you could escape, he added, “by the way, nice to finally meet you properly. next time, don’t wait five months to say hi.”

“i didn’t know you existed!” you protested, your voice more defensive than you’d intended.

“sure you didn’t,” he said with a laugh, his eyes glinting with mischief.

as you turned to leave, your stomach fluttered in a way that annoyed you. yeonjun. your neighbor. the lifeguard. apparently, the boy who’d been noticing you long before you even realized he was there.

you swore under your breath as you walked back to your house. this was going to be... interesting.

and that was just the start of your friendship with yeonjun.

what began as a coincidental meeting soon became the foundation of everything you knew. yeonjun wasn’t just your neighbor anymore; he became your partner-in-crime, the person who knew all your quirks, and the one you always looked for when the world felt heavy.

elementary school was where it truly began to solidify. it wasn’t long before he was waiting for you outside your house every morning, backpack slung over one shoulder, a grin that could rival the sun spread across his face.

“you ready?” he’d ask, even though you were always the one who wasn’t.

“give me a minute!” you’d shout from the doorway, fumbling to tie your shoelaces while he laughed at your chaos.

on the walk to school, he’d talk your ear off about the most random things. dinosaurs, video games, the newest episode of his favorite cartoon.

“do you think velociraptors were actually that smart?” he asked one morning, kicking a rock down the road as you walked.

you frowned, considering it. “probably not as smart as they show in movies. but maybe smarter than chickens.”

“chickens are terrifying, though,” he countered, and you couldn’t argue with that.

over the years, those small conversations turned into deeper ones. he was there when your parents started fighting more than usual.

one night, after your dad slammed the front door and your mom locked herself in her room, you found yourself sitting on the front steps, arms wrapped around your knees.

yeonjun climbed over the fence separating your houses like it was the most natural thing in the world, plopping down beside you. “what happened?”

you didn’t even need to explain. you just leaned your head on his shoulder, and he let you sit there in silence until the tears stopped.

“you know they love you, right?” he said softly, breaking the quiet.

“sometimes it doesn’t feel like it,” you whispered.

he nudged you gently. “hey. you’ve got me, though. and i’ll always love you. even when you’re super annoying.”

you laughed, even though it was shaky. “thanks, lifeguard.”

“don’t call me that,” he groaned, but he was smiling.

then there was your first heartbreak. yang jungwon, the quiet boy from the football team, had somehow wormed his way into your heart during your freshman year of high school.

“he’s cute,” you admitted to yeonjun one day, watching jungwon from across the cafeteria.

yeonjun squinted at him like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “he’s... alright, i guess.”

“just alright?” you teased.

“what? you want me to call him hot or something?” yeonjun shot back, rolling his eyes.

but when jungwon broke your heart a few months later—something about “not being ready for a relationship”—yeonjun was the one who showed up with your favorite snacks and a stack of your favorite movies.

“he’s an idiot,” yeonjun declared, sitting cross-legged on your bedroom floor. “anyone who can’t see how great you are doesn’t deserve you.”

“you’re just saying that because you’re my best friend,” you mumbled, wiping your eyes.

“no, i’m saying it because it’s true,” he said firmly, tossing a popcorn kernel at your head to make you smile.

it worked.

your friendship with yeonjun wasn’t just about the big moments, though. it was the small things, like the way he got along with your brothers, soobin and beomgyu, as if they were his own siblings.

“hey, yeonjun, wanna join our soccer game?” beomgyu asked one saturday afternoon, already tugging him toward the backyard.

yeonjun glanced at you, and you shrugged. “go ahead. i’ll cheer when you lose.”

“me? lose?” he scoffed. “not happening.”

you sat on the porch steps, laughing as he and your brothers turned the yard into a chaotic battlefield. it was like this all the time—yeonjun seamlessly fitting into every part of your life.

and then there were the sleepovers.

it started as a summer tradition when you were twelve. either you’d sneak over to his house with a bag of snacks, or he’d show up at your door with a stack of dvds.

“what are we watching tonight?” he asked one evening, flopping onto your living room couch like he owned the place.

“something scary,” you said, holding up a horror movie.

he groaned. “why do you always pick the ones that’ll make you scream?”

“because it’s funny,” you said, grinning.

he rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. halfway through the movie, when a jump scare made you yelp and grab his arm, he smirked. “told you.”

“shut up,” you muttered, but you didn’t let go of his arm.

those nights always ended the same way—falling asleep on the couch, the tv still playing in the background, and waking up to the sunrise spilling through the windows.

“what do you think happens after high school?” you asked him once, staring at the ceiling in the dim light.

“like, after college and everything?” he asked.

“yeah.”

he was quiet for a moment before saying, “i don’t know. but i think as long as we’re still friends, it’ll be okay.”

you turned your head to look at him, and the softness in his expression made your chest feel warm. “yeah,” you agreed. “it’ll be okay.”

and for years, it was. you and yeonjun, inseparable, unshakable. a friendship that felt like it could withstand anything.

you just didn’t know how much it would be tested.

time came when you were both seventeen. you were both seventeen years old when he first held your hand.

yeonjun, your childhood best friend. the boy who had been by your side through scraped knees, whispered secrets, and endless summer nights. the one who had seen you at your most vulnerable, who always knew how to make you laugh even when the world seemed too heavy.

it was a cool autumn evening, the kind that made you want to linger outside just a little longer, soaking in the last traces of warmth before winter took over. the air smelled faintly of woodsmoke, and the streetlights had just started flickering to life, casting golden halos over the quiet neighborhood.

the two of you were walking back home from school, the weight of textbooks in your backpacks offset by the lightness of your conversation. yeonjun had his backpack slung over one shoulder, the strap threatening to slip off with every step, but he didn’t seem to care.

“i still can’t believe you actually said that to mrs. cho,” you said, shaking your head, the memory of the afternoon making you laugh.

yeonjun grinned, his signature dimple making an appearance. “what? someone had to call her out. her explanation didn’t even make sense.”

“you’re unbelievable,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “you just love stirring the pot.”

“and you love watching it happen,” he teased, nudging your shoulder lightly with his own.

“maybe,” you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips.

the conversation faded into a comfortable silence as the two of you continued down the street, the only sounds coming from the crunch of leaves beneath your sneakers and the occasional distant bark of a dog.

then it happened.

it wasn’t the first time your hands had brushed—years of friendship meant countless high-fives, playful shoves, and absentminded touches. but this time, his fingers lingered, tentative but steady, until they intertwined with yours.

your breath hitched, the warmth of his palm contrasting sharply with the coolness of the air.

“what?” he asked, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. his voice was casual, but there was a softness in it that wasn’t usually there.

“nothing,” you mumbled, your heart racing so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

you tried to focus on the sidewalk, on the way the leaves scattered with each step, but all you could feel was the way his thumb gently brushed against yours, as if testing the waters.

you should have let go. this was yeonjun, your best friend, the boy who had been there through everything. but instead, you found yourself holding on tighter, your steps slowing as if you could somehow stretch the moment out longer.

the streetlights seemed brighter tonight, or maybe it was just him. you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, taking in the way the golden light softened his features, highlighting the curve of his jaw and the way his dark hair fell messily across his forehead.

“have you always been this handsome?” the words escaped before you could stop them.

yeonjun stumbled slightly, his eyes widening as he turned to look at you. “w-what?”

“uh... nothing,” you blurted, your face heating up as you quickly pulled your hand from his.

“wait—” he started, but you were already backing away, your house just a few steps away now.

“s-see you tomorrow!” you called over your shoulder, practically sprinting up the porch steps and yanking the door open.

yeonjun stood frozen on the sidewalk, staring after you with a mix of confusion and something else he couldn’t quite place.

“see you...” he murmured, his voice barely audible as the warmth of your touch lingered on his hand.

he glanced down at it, flexing his fingers absently. his cheeks felt strangely warm, and he rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous laugh escaping him.

when did her voice change? he wondered. you used to sound so squeaky and high-pitched, like a little mouse. but now? now your voice seemed softer, warmer, wrapping around him in a way that made his chest tighten.

it’s just puberty, he told himself. that had to be it. hormones or something. it wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed you before—you were his best friend, after all. but lately, things felt... different.

like the way you’d smile at him when you thought he wasn’t looking. or the way your laughter seemed to linger in the air, making his heart race for reasons he couldn’t explain.

he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he turned to head home. but no matter how hard he tried, his mind kept drifting back to the way your hand fit perfectly in his, the way you looked at him under the streetlights, and the way he had to fight the sudden, inexplicable urge to kiss you.

“what’s happening to me?” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

but deep down, he already knew the answer. and it terrified him just as much as it thrilled him.

the transition was slow, like the gradual change in the seasons. one moment, yeonjun was still your best friend—the boy who knew everything about you, the one who could make you laugh even when you felt like crying. and the next, he wasn’t.

it started small, subtle. at first, it was just the little things—holding hands for a few seconds longer than usual, the gentle brush of fingers when you passed something to him, or when you’d sit side by side, letting the warmth of his presence fill the space between you without a word spoken.

but over time, those little moments grew into something more, something undeniable. it was in the way you’d talk for hours, hands intertwined as you both sat on your porch, watching the stars slowly appear one by one. it was the way yeonjun would absentmindedly play with your fingers, tracing patterns on your skin while talking about nothing and everything all at once.

it was the quiet smiles you exchanged when you thought no one was looking, and the way your heart fluttered when his thumb brushed over your palm.

but none of this was ever spoken aloud.

it wasn’t until one evening, when you were sprawled out on the couch with your brothers, that you were forced to face it.

you had just settled in, the sound of the tv filling the living room while the three of you snacked on popcorn, when beomgyu, who had been unusually quiet for the past few minutes, suddenly broke the silence.

“so,” he began, his voice casual, but you could tell by the mischievous glint in his eyes that he was up to something. “is yeonjun your boyfriend?”

your stomach dropped, your heart racing as your eyes widened. you shot him a look, but beomgyu was still looking at the screen, pretending to be uninterested.

you didn’t know how to respond. not when your mind was racing with a thousand thoughts at once. you couldn’t deny the fact that yeonjun felt different now—more than just your best friend. but was he your boyfriend?

you glanced at yeonjun, who was sitting beside you, his attention still on the tv but with a slight tension in his posture that wasn’t usually there. his hand was resting near yours, and for a moment, you both just stared at it, neither of you moving.

“y/n?” beomgyu asked again, his tone light but insistent. “is he?”

you didn’t know what to say.

“i—I don’t know,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible. your fingers curled into your palm, a nervous habit, as you struggled to find the right words. “i... don’t think so?”

but as you said it, a strange feeling bloomed in your chest. you looked at yeonjun again, this time noticing the way his lips pressed together in a tight line, as if he was holding something back. he didn’t say anything, but you could feel the unspoken tension between you, the weight of the question hanging in the air.

your heart started to beat faster.

what was this? what had changed?

beomgyu must’ve sensed the hesitation in your voice because he didn’t push further. instead, he threw a wink in your direction, a playful grin on his face as he nudged your shoulder.

“if you say so,” he said teasingly, then leaned back, returning to the tv as if nothing had happened.

but you couldn’t focus on the show anymore. all you could think about was yeonjun, sitting beside you with his hand inches from yours.

when your brothers finally left the living room, giving you some much-needed space to think, you were left alone with yeonjun.

you sat in silence for a long moment, the air between you thick with unspoken words. your heart was pounding in your chest, and every breath felt heavy. you finally turned to him, finding his eyes already on you, a look of uncertainty in his gaze.

“yeonjun,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “are we... something else now?”

his gaze flickered, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. but you could see the way his hand fidgeted nervously by his side, the way his fingers twitched, like he was waiting for you to say something.

finally, he let out a breath, his voice quieter than usual. “i don’t know,” he said honestly. “i’ve been wondering the same thing.”

you swallowed, your heart doing an odd flip in your chest. you hadn’t expected him to say that, and yet... it made sense. because how could it not be strange? you had both changed, and now you were walking this fine line between friendship and something more.

“it feels different, doesn’t it?” you whispered, your gaze dropping to your hands. “like, we’re not just... friends anymore. but we’re not... i don’t know what we are.”

yeonjun let out a soft chuckle, but there was no humor in it. just a trace of uncertainty. “yeah. it feels different to me too.”

for a long while, neither of you spoke. you both just sat there, side by side, in a silence that was no longer comfortable, but still familiar.

finally, yeonjun shifted, turning to face you more fully. his expression was soft, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to find something there.

“y/n,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “i... don’t want to mess things up between us. i’ve known you forever, and i don’t want to lose that.”

you swallowed hard, nodding as you turned to face him fully. “me neither,” you replied, your voice trembling just slightly. “but i can’t pretend like things are the same anymore. i don’t want to lose you either, yeonjun. but...”

“but?” he prompted, his voice gentle.

“but... i don’t know what this is either,” you said, the words coming out before you could stop them. “i don’t know where this is going.”

yeonjun gave you a small, uncertain smile. “maybe that’s okay,” he said softly. “maybe we don’t have to know right now.”

you took a deep breath, letting his words settle in your chest. maybe it was okay not to know. maybe it was okay to just take things one step at a time.

you met his eyes, your gaze steady now, and for the first time in a long time, you felt the weight of the moment—the shift in your relationship, the change that was inevitable but still terrifying.

“we’ll figure it out, right?” you said, your voice soft but determined.

yeonjun smiled, the familiar, comforting smile that you had always loved. “yeah. we will.”

and with that, everything felt a little lighter. not perfect, not yet, but perhaps this is just the start of something more. something neither of you had expected.

the days following that conversation were filled with the same routine—talking for hours, hanging out with your brothers, laughing at jokes only the two of you understood—but everything felt different. there was a new kind of tension hanging in the air between you and yeonjun, something both thrilling and terrifying.

the little touches, the shared glances, the moments when your hands brushed—those things still happened, but now they carried a weight neither of you had ever acknowledged before. the silence between you two wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t as comfortable either. you both had the same question hanging between you, unspoken, and it seemed impossible to ignore.

it was a quiet saturday evening when it all finally came to a head. the sun had set, leaving the sky painted in shades of deep blue, and you were sitting together on your porch. the cool night air wrapped around you both, but the warmth of yeonjun’s presence was enough to make it feel like the world had paused. your brothers had gone out, leaving you and yeonjun alone, a rare occurrence these days.

he was sitting beside you, his elbow resting lightly on the arm of the porch chair, and you were leaning back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of you. for a while, neither of you said anything. you just stared at the stars, lost in your own thoughts.

finally, yeonjun broke the silence.

“y/n,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper.

you turned to look at him, heart suddenly racing. there was something in his eyes—something you hadn’t seen before, something that made your stomach flip.

“yeah?” you responded, your voice barely louder than his.

he hesitated for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip as if he were trying to find the right words. the air between you felt thick, like the world was holding its breath.

“i’ve been thinking a lot,” he started slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. “about us. about everything.”

you swallowed, unsure of what to say, but you didn’t look away either. the words you had both been avoiding were finally hanging in the air.

yeonjun took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t want to make things complicated, y/n,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost fragile. “but i can’t keep pretending that i don’t feel... something more. i can’t keep pretending that i don’t care about you in a way that’s different from anyone else. because i do. i do care about you.”

your heart was hammering in your chest, but you didn’t speak. you just watched him, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest, filling the spaces you had been too afraid to acknowledge.

yeonjun’s eyes softened as he continued, his voice trembling slightly. “it’s scary, y/n. but i don’t want to keep hiding how i feel. i don’t want to lose you, but i can’t ignore it anymore. i’m in love with you.”

the words hit you like a wave. for a moment, everything stood still. time froze, the world faded away, and it was just the two of you, sitting in the soft glow of the streetlights, the sound of your hearts beating in sync.

“yeonjun,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “i—i don’t know when it happened, but... i feel the same. i think i’ve felt the same for a while now.”

his eyes widened in surprise, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. but then, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips—soft, relieved, and full of something you couldn’t quite name.

“you do?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper, as if he were afraid to hear the wrong answer.

“yeah,” you breathed, your heart feeling lighter now, the weight of uncertainty finally lifting. “i’m in love with you too, yeonjun.”

and then, just like that, it felt like everything clicked.

without another word, yeonjun closed the small distance between you, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining in that familiar way that now felt like the most natural thing in the world. you smiled at him, your heart soaring with something new—something beautiful.

“i’ve wanted to hear you say that,” yeonjun murmured, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. “i’ve wanted to say it for so long.”

you chuckled softly, feeling like you were floating. “me too. i just... didn’t know how.”

he leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours, and for the first time, you felt the certainty that this was right. there was no doubt, no fear. just the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, the soft rhythm of your hearts beating together in the stillness of the night.

“i don’t want to lose you, y/n,” he whispered, his voice full of raw sincerity. “i don’t care what happens next. i just want to be with you.”

“you won’t lose me,” you replied softly, your voice steady and full of conviction.

and in that moment, everything else faded away. there was only yeonjun, and only you, and the love that had bloomed between you in the most unexpected of ways. and for the first time in a long time, you felt like everything was exactly as it should be.

by the time of senior year at high school, both of you had already stepped into the roles that would define the rest of your high school lives: you, the school council president, and yeonjun, the captain of the basketball team. your schedules were packed—meetings, practice sessions, classwork, and the looming pressure of college applications—but somehow, despite the chaos, you both always found time for each other.

you remember one afternoon, a particularly grueling day of school, when the bell rang to signal the end of your final class. your brain was fried, your body sore from the endless meetings and responsibilities, but there was one thing you were looking forward to: lunch.

you glanced at your phone, seeing the message from yeonjun: "meet me at the usual spot. got 20 mins before practice."

it wasn’t much, but to you, it was everything. you texted back quickly: "see you there."

you headed to the courtyard behind the school, the spot where you’d spent so many of your afternoons together—hidden from the chaos, just the two of you, surrounded by the world but not quite a part of it. yeonjun was already waiting for you when you arrived, leaning against the wall, his hoodie pulled up over his head to shield him from the autumn wind.

“hey,” you greeted him, smiling, already feeling your heart lighten at the sight of him.

yeonjun grinned, his eyes lighting up when they landed on you. “hey, it’s been a minute, huh?”

you nodded, collapsing beside him. “feels like we’re ships passing in the night with our schedules lately.”

“yeah, i’ve been so swamped with basketball, i barely have time to think,” he said, leaning back against the brick wall, his hand finding yours instinctively. "but right now, all that matters is this."

you squeezed his hand, a smile tugging at your lips. “me too. this is the best part of my day.”

there was something so simple, so perfect, about the moments when it was just the two of you. the world could spin around you, and as long as you had this—just being together—it didn’t matter.

the bell rang, signaling that lunch was over. you sighed dramatically. “i wish we had more time,” you said, your voice tinged with a little sadness.

“me too,” yeonjun said softly. He shifted, pulling you into a brief, but tight hug. “but i’ll see you tonight, right? i can’t wait to just... be with you, even if it’s just for a little bit.”

you nodded, burying your face in his chest for a moment before pulling away. “of course. see you tonight.”

as you parted ways to go back to your respective duties, you felt a bittersweet tug in your chest. senior year was supposed to be the most exciting year, but sometimes, it felt like you were both drowning in expectations. between your responsibilities as president, his duties with the basketball team, and the pressure of college applications, it was hard to carve out enough time for each other. but when you did, it felt like everything.

that night, after you had managed to get through your meeting with the council, you finally collapsed into your bed, exhausted but happy. you barely had time to change out of your uniform before yeonjun was at your window, tapping gently with his knuckles, his face glowing from the soft light outside.

you slid the window open, and his familiar face filled your view. “hey,” he said, his voice full of warmth. “got a few minutes to spare?”

“you know i always do for you,” you replied, smiling as you climbed out of bed to open the window wider. yeonjun stepped inside, and you both sank into your comfort zone—no pretenses, just the two of you in your shared space.

“i missed you,” yeonjun admitted quietly, his hand finding its way to your back as you both sat on your bed.

“me too,” you said softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. “it feels like forever since we just... hung out.”

he chuckled. “we’re busy, aren’t we? but at least we have tonight.”

you smiled, threading your fingers through his. “yeah. tonight’s for us.”

for the next hour, you talked about everything—everything that wasn’t the stress of school or college. you found yourselves laughing about ridiculous things—like how you both dreamed of going to universities far away from each other just so you could become those long-distance couples who “would make it work,” only to be met with hilarious glances from your friends.

“so, what’s your dream university?” yeonjun asked, his eyes soft with curiosity.

you glanced up at him. “hmm, i’ve always wanted to go to stanford, but i think i’ll end up at somewhere more practical. how about you?”

yeonjun smiled, his expression thoughtful. “i always thought i’d be good at ucla, but i’ve been looking at nyu too. new york would be crazy.”

“oh, so we’ll be on opposite sides of the country?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“maybe,” yeonjun grinned, poking your side. “but i’ll make it work. as long as you’re with me, i’ll figure it out.”

you stared at him, feeling something stir in your chest. “yeonjun... if i get into nyu... would you... really?”

he turned to you, his expression suddenly serious, but there was a tenderness in his eyes that made your heart flutter. “of course. wherever you go, i go. i’ll always make time for you. we’ll figure it out.”

a warmth spread through you at his words, and you couldn’t help but lean in to kiss him. it was soft, lingering—an unspoken promise to keep fighting for each other, no matter what life threw at you.

the night grew quiet as you lay beside each other, tangled in blankets, your fingers still intertwined. the silence between you felt natural, comfortable. you spoke in soft murmurs about your futures, about your hopes and fears, but through it all, there was one constant: you had each other.

and that was all you really needed.

as the weeks passed, things didn’t slow down. you both threw yourselves into your respective roles with all the energy you had. but in the middle of it all, there was always a moment for the two of you—lunch breaks, stolen kisses, late-night texts, and moments just like this, when you could talk about your dreams and plans without the pressure of the world bearing down on you.

one late night, after an exhausting student council meeting, you and yeonjun found yourselves at your window again, sitting in the stillness of your room.

“you know, no matter how busy we get, i want to always make time for this,” yeonjun said quietly, his arm around your shoulders.

“me too,” you whispered, smiling. “you’re my rest.”

he laughed softly. “and you’re mine.”

and in that moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, you knew that no matter where life took you, you would always find your way back to each other.

midway through senior year, time seemed to slip faster than it ever had. it was as if the days were being written in invisible ink—one minute, you were discussing college applications, the next, you were at a university's entrance exam with yeonjun, sitting side by side in a room full of nervous energy, but somehow, both of you found peace in the shared silence.

you both had chosen paths that were worlds apart: you, determined to follow your dream of becoming a nurse, and yeonjun, with his passion for film and the arts. it was a strange contrast, but it was one you never questioned, never thought of as anything other than perfectly you and him.

one evening, months before the entrance exams, you were sitting in your room, the soft glow of your desk lamp illuminating the scattered papers around you. yeonjun had come over to study, though neither of you were really studying—just quietly existing in each other's company, as you often did.

“so, have you decided?” yeonjun’s voice broke through the silence, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“hmm?” you asked, glancing over at him. he was flipping through his sketchbook, clearly distracted by his thoughts.

“nursing. still?” he asked, his eyes catching yours, filled with a mixture of curiosity and understanding.

you nodded.

yeonjun hummed, a small smile playing on his lips. “it’s a good choice. i can totally see you in scrubs, saving lives and looking all badass.”

you chuckled, tossing your pen onto your desk. “and you? still film school?”

“yep,” he grinned, “i have always wanted to make films. tell stories in a way that makes people feel something, and i don’t think i could do anything else.”

you leaned back in your chair, gazing at him thoughtfully. “i love that. you’re so passionate about it. i think it’s the perfect choice for you.”

yeonjun’s eyes softened as he set his sketchbook aside, moving closer to you. “and you’re going to be an amazing nurse. i can already see it. you’ve got this caring side... it’s something special.”

you blushed slightly, not used to him being so sincere, but it made your heart flutter. “thank you, love,” you whispered.

he reached over, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering at your cheek. the moment felt like a soft breath in a noisy world.

“we’re really different, aren’t we?” yeonjun murmured, his eyes tracing the contours of your face, as if committing this moment to memory.

you smiled. “yeah, but somehow, it works. we’re... stupidly compatible, aren’t we?”

yeonjun chuckled, his thumb brushing over your lips. “yeah, we are.”

you couldn’t help but smile at the irony of it all—without thinking, you leaned in, brushing your lips softly against his. the kiss was gentle, lingering, full of promises and unspoken words. it wasn’t grand, but it was everything you needed in that moment—simple and real.

“we’ve got this, huh?” yeonjun whispered as you pulled away, his forehead resting against yours.

“yeah, we do.”

college entrance exams loomed closer, and the weight of the future hung heavily over both of you. but somehow, amidst all the stress, you found little pockets of time for each other. moments of relief, of warmth, of shared smiles.

one afternoon, a few weeks before the exams, you both made a spontaneous decision to visit a couple of universities for your applications. you weren’t sure if it was the best use of your time—especially with your council duties taking up most of your schedule—but it felt like a moment of freedom in an otherwise chaotic year.

yeonjun, ever the spontaneous one, had suggested, “let’s go to the city. we’ll check out some campuses and maybe grab lunch afterward. just... breathe, you know?”

you’d agreed instantly.

walking around the campuses, you couldn’t help but feel the gravity of the future pressing in on you. but every time you caught yeonjun’s eye, a quiet reassurance settled in your chest. no matter what happened, you had each other.

as you visited one school after another, you both joked about what your lives might look like in the future. yeonjun, with his usual mischievous grin, would point to buildings and say, “this will be my studio. i’ll make my first movie here.”

you laughed, teasing him, “i thought you said you wanted to film in new york?”

“eh, i’ll make it work. i’m flexible,” he said with a wink, before pulling you closer by the hand. “and you’ll be in the hospital, saving lives. i’m already picturing you as the hottest nurse on the floor.”

“oh, stop it,” you said, but your cheeks flushed anyway.

it was simple moments like that—walking through crowded campuses with him, your fingers intertwined—that made everything feel like it was going to be okay.

the sound of papers shuffling and the faint hum of your office filled the room as you glanced at the clock. the game was starting in a few minutes, and you were still stuck at your desk, wrapping up council work. your phone buzzed, pulling your attention away from the endless to-do list. it was yeonjun.

yeonjun: game's about to start. you coming, right?

you: still at the office, love. trying to finish this proposal.

yeonjun: what? i thought you said you'd leave early today!

you: i tried! something urgent came up. i'm so sorry.

yeonjun: don’t stress. just… do your best to get here, okay?

you: i’ll be there, promise. even if it’s late.

yeonjun: okay… but if i don’t see you in the crowd, i’m blaming you if i miss a shot.

you: you’re gonna be amazing. now stop worrying about me and focus, mr. team captain.

yeonjun: only if you swear you’ll come.

you: i swear.

yeonjun: alright, i love you!

you smiled softly at the screen, mouthing “i love you more”, his nervous energy practically radiating through the text.

the clock ticked on, and you worked faster than you’d ever thought possible. your thoughts were divided—half on the council report in front of you, half on yeonjun. you couldn’t miss his last game, not after how much it meant to him.

finally, you slammed the folder shut and grabbed your bag, practically sprinting out of the office. the gym was only a ten-minute walk from school, but it felt like an eternity as you weaved through the crowds.

the stadium buzzed with electric anticipation, the crowd roaring as yeonjun’s basketball team prepared for their final game of the season. it was his last game as team captain, the culmination of years of dedication, and everyone could feel the weight of the moment. everyone except yeonjun, who was too busy scanning the stands, his heart sinking with every empty seat he saw.

he’d checked three times already, his eyes searching frantically for you. but you weren’t there.

he tried to shake off the disappointment, telling himself you were probably caught up with your council responsibilities. it wasn’t like you to break a promise, but the weight of senior year had been heavy on both of you. “it’s okay,” he murmured to himself as he adjusted his jersey, “i’ll win this one for her.”

the game started, and the first half was brutal. the opposing team was relentless, and though yeonjun played with his usual precision, something was off. his passes weren’t as sharp, his shots just a bit too cautious. his mind kept wandering back to you. where were you?

by halftime, his team was trailing by six points, and the coach’s pep talk barely registered in yeonjun’s ears. all he could think about was how much he wanted you to be there, to see him play one last time.

but then, as the second half began, everything changed.

by the time you arrived, the first half was already underway. the crowd’s cheers echoed through the stadium as you slipped into the stands, scanning the court for him.

there he was. yeonjun, in his captain’s jersey, his movements fluid but tense. his eyes flickered to the stands every few seconds, as if he were looking for something—or someone.

you waved frantically, hoping he’d see you.

it wasn’t until a timeout was called that his eyes finally landed on you. yeonjun stepped onto the court, ready to push through his nerves, when his eyes caught a familiar figure slipping into the stands. it was you. you were breathless, still dressed in your school blazer, your hair slightly disheveled from rushing, but you were there. and you were smiling at him. even from the distance, you saw the shift in his expression—the relief, the spark of determination. he grinned, just slightly, before turning back to his team.

the second half began, and yeonjun was unstoppable. it was as if seeing you had flipped a switch inside him. every play was sharper, every pass more precise. you could barely keep up with the game, your voice hoarse from cheering.

the final moments of the game were nail-biting. the score was tied, and the clock was ticking down. yeonjun had the ball, weaving through defenders, his eyes locked on the hoop. the gym seemed to hold its breath as he took the shot—a clean, perfect arc that sent the ball straight through the net.

the buzzer sounded, signaling their victory, and the crowd erupted into cheers. yeonjun’s teammates swarmed him, clapping his back and yelling in celebration, but his eyes weren’t on them.

his gaze darted to the stands, searching for you. and then he saw you, your arms extended wide, your smile brighter than the gym lights.

without a second thought, yeonjun broke away from his teammates and sprinted toward you. the crowd blurred into nothing as he reached you, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground.

“i thought you weren’t coming,” he murmured against your hair, his voice tinged with relief and disbelief.

you laughed softly, still catching your breath. “well, i was able to come here at halftime. something came up in the office, and i had to grind it out for 30 minutes.”

yeonjun pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands cupping your face. “oh, love, you don’t have to explain,” he said, a smile breaking across his lips. “what matters is you’re here now.”

you rolled your eyes playfully. “so cheesy, mr. mvp.”

he chuckled, his forehead resting against yours for a moment before he tilted his head and kissed you. it was a kiss filled with everything he hadn’t been able to say—the gratitude, the relief, the love.

you pulled away first, a soft laugh escaping your lips as his teammates called him back to the court for the celebration.

“we’ll celebrate later, yeah?” he said, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

you nodded, your smile unwavering. “i’ll wait right here.”

yeonjun hesitated, his hand lingering in yours, as if letting go would mean the moment would disappear.

“go,” you said, laughing softly.

he groaned playfully, leaning in to steal one last kiss, short and soft. “god, i love you,” he whispered, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe it himself.

“i love you too,” you replied, and with that, he finally let go, running back to his teammates with a grin that could rival the sun.

as you watched him join the celebration, your heart swelled with pride and love. he turned back to look at you one last time, mouthing, “wait for me.” and you knew, no matter what came next, you’d always be there for him—just as he’d always be there for you.

after the game, the celebration was in full swing. the locker room had been a frenzy of cheers and shouts, the sound of victory carrying out into the hallways. yeonjun had barely made it through his team’s congratulations before he slipped away to find you waiting in the gym lobby, exactly where you said you’d be.

the second he spotted you, his smile lit up the entire room.

“there’s my good luck charm,” he said, pulling you into another hug, this one softer but no less tight. his jersey was damp from sweat, but you didn’t care. the warmth of his arms, the lingering adrenaline from the game—it made your heart race in a way you couldn’t explain.

“mvp and a charmer,” you teased, poking at his chest. “you’re on fire tonight.”

“and it’s all because of you,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering just long enough to make you blush.

“stop being so cheesy,” you mumbled, shoving him lightly, though you didn’t pull away.

he grinned, his eyes sparkling. “never. now, let’s go celebrate. my treat.”

you ended up at a cozy little diner near campus, one you both loved for its late-night snacks and quiet booths. the place was nearly empty, the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant clatter of dishes creating a soothing backdrop.

yeonjun slid into the booth beside you instead of across, his knee brushing against yours under the table.

“what are we having, champ?” you asked, flipping through the menu.

“everything,” he said, leaning his head against your shoulder. “we earned it.”

“we?” you raised an eyebrow, but the fondness in your tone gave you away.

“yeah, we. you were there, weren’t you? cheering me on, looking all cute in the stands?” he said, his voice dropping slightly, the teasing lilt making your cheeks heat up.

you nudged him, trying to hide your smile. “you’re ridiculous.”

“and you love it,” he shot back, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

the food came, a mix of fries, milkshakes, and whatever comfort food you could order without thinking. you shared everything, stealing bites from each other’s plates, laughing over nothing and everything.

at one point, yeonjun reached over to wipe a smudge of ketchup from your lip, his thumb lingering for just a second too long.

“you’re staring,” you said, your voice softer now, the playful edge replaced with something more vulnerable.

“can’t help it,” he said, his smile small but genuine. “you’re beautiful.”

you rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered all the same. “you’re insufferable.”

“and yet, here you are, stuck with me,” he said, leaning in just close enough that his breath fanned against your skin.

“who says i’m stuck?” you challenged, though your voice betrayed you, a little breathless under his gaze.

he didn’t answer, not with words. instead, he closed the gap, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was slow and sweet, the kind that made time seem to stop.

when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he whispered, “thank you. for being here, for everything.”

“always,” you said, your hand finding his under the table, your fingers lacing together.

the walk home was quieter, the night air crisp against your skin. yeonjun draped his jacket over your shoulders despite your protests, his arm looping around your waist as he guided you down the familiar path.

“so,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence, “what’s the plan now? sleep? movie marathon? or...” his voice dipped, playful but suggestive, “something else?”

you laughed, shaking your head. “don’t push your luck, mr. mvp.”

“hey, can’t blame a guy for trying,” he said, grinning as he squeezed your side.

when you finally made it to your place, yeonjun didn’t let you go right away. he leaned against the doorframe, his hands resting lightly on your hips as he looked at you, his expression softer now.

“i mean it,” he said, his voice low. “tonight was one of the best nights of my life. and it wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

“you’re sappy,” you teased, though your smile betrayed how much his words meant to you.

“only for you,” he said, leaning down to kiss you again, this one deeper, leaving you both a little breathless.

when you finally pulled away, your fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt, you whispered, “you coming in, or are you just gonna stand out here all night?”

yeonjun laughed, his eyes glinting with mischief. “lead the way, love.”

you led yeonjun into your room, the soft click of the door behind him signaling a shift in the air. the night outside was quiet, the world hushed as if giving you both the space to exist only in this moment.

he tugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the chair in the corner, his movements unhurried but purposeful. his eyes found yours across the room, and the way he looked at you—soft, adoring, with just the slightest edge of something deeper—made your breath hitch.

“come here,” he murmured, his voice low and inviting.

you stepped closer, and as soon as you were within reach, his hands found your waist, pulling you gently but firmly into him. his touch was warm, grounding, the slight roughness of his fingertips brushing against the fabric of your shirt.

“you know,” he began, his lips quirking into a half-smile, “i don’t think i’ll ever get over how beautiful you look when you’re just... here. just being you.”

“you’re hopeless,” you replied softly, but your heart was racing.

“and you’re perfect,” he said, his tone so sincere it made your cheeks heat.

his hands slid up your back, guiding you closer until there was nothing between you but the rise and fall of your breaths. his forehead pressed against yours as his fingers traced idle patterns against your skin.

“yeonjun...” you whispered, your voice trailing off as he tilted his head, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, the kind of kiss that felt like a promise.

the world seemed to blur as the kiss deepened, his hands anchoring you to him as if letting go wasn’t an option. your fingers found the nape of his neck, threading through the soft strands of his hair, pulling him even closer.

he guided you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you sank down, your hands tugging him with you. he followed willingly, bracing himself with his arms on either side of you, his weight a comforting presence.

“are you okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours.

you nodded, your hands resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. “more than okay.”

he smiled then, the kind of smile that reached his eyes, and leaned down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then the sensitive spot just below your ear. the soft, trailing kisses sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help the quiet sound that escaped your lips.

his name fell from your mouth like a prayer, and it only spurred him on, his touch becoming more confident but never rushed. he moved slowly, his lips ghosting over your collarbone as his hands slid to your waist, his thumbs brushing the exposed skin where your shirt had ridden up.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, the words making your cheeks flush even as they filled you with warmth.

you tugged him up, your lips finding his again in a kiss that was soft yet urgent, your fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt. he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered, “we don’t have to rush anything.”

“i know,” you said, your voice steady despite the rapid thrum of your heart. “but i trust you, yeonjun. with everything.”

his expression softened, and he leaned down to kiss you again, this time slower, pouring every unspoken word into the connection. time seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the world outside forgotten.

every touch, every kiss, every whispered word felt like a declaration—a quiet but certain acknowledgment of the love you shared, a love that was yours and his alone.

after the finals, you and yeonjun had been caught in the chaos of college applications. despite the hectic schedules, the two of you always found moments to spend together, whether it was studying side by side, sneaking in late-night phone calls, or holding hands during walks to clear your minds.

when the acceptance letters came, excitement quickly mingled with a bittersweet feeling. you’d both been accepted into universities in new york, but they weren’t the same one. you had hoped, deep down, that fate would place you in the same halls, but it seemed like it had other plans.

“it’s okay,” yeonjun reassured you one evening as you lay curled up on his bed, your head on his chest. his fingers absentmindedly traced circles on your back. “we’ll figure it out. new york isn’t that big, and we’ll still be close enough to annoy each other whenever we want.”

you laughed softly, the sound muffled against his shirt. “but what if it gets too hard? what if we’re too busy?”

he tilted your chin up, his eyes meeting yours with the kind of certainty that made your chest tighten. “then we’ll make time. besides, I already have a plan.”

“a plan?” you asked, raising a brow.

“we’ll live together,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

you blinked at him, surprised. “together?”

“yeah,” he said, grinning. “you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

the reassurance in his voice soothed the small ache that had settled in your chest.

when senior graduation came, the bittersweetness of the moment was palpable. the ceremony was a blur of caps, gowns, and speeches. when your name was called, you walked across the stage to receive your leadership award, the applause echoing in your ears. but it wasn’t the applause that made your heart swell—it was the sight of yeonjun standing in the crowd, clapping the loudest, his smile brighter than anyone else’s.

“congratulations, president,” he teased later as he met you outside the auditorium, wrapping his arms around you in a hug that lifted you off your feet.

“thank you, mr. mvp,” you shot back, grinning.

as the night wound down and the celebrations faded, yeonjun leaned close, his breath warm against your ear. “i have something for you,” he said softly.

“oh?” you asked, tilting your head to look at him.

“i’ll give it to you later,” he said, his smile tinged with mystery.

later turned out to be when the two of you were alone in your room, the soft glow of your bedside lamp casting warm light over the space. yeonjun reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red velvet box, handing it to you with a slightly nervous smile.

your fingers trembled slightly as you opened the small red velvet box he’d handed you. inside, resting on the cushion, was a shiny key. confusion knit your brows together as you looked up at him.

“what’s this for?” you asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

yeonjun’s gaze softened, his lips curling into that familiar, heart-melting smile that he reserved just for you. “our home,” he murmured.

your breath hitched. “our home?” you echoed, the words feeling surreal as they left your lips.

he nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as he leaned closer, his voice warm and steady. “yeah. for college. i’ve been saving for a while, and with the consolation prize from the mvp award, i was able to pay the down payment for an apartment in new york.”

you stared at him, wide-eyed, emotions welling up in your chest. the effort, the thoughtfulness, the sheer love behind his gesture left you speechless.

“it’s not huge or anything,” he continued, chuckling nervously. “but it’s ours. one room—our room. and there’s a little kitchen, a cozy living area, and—”

you didn’t let him finish. overwhelmed, you leaned forward, your lips finding his in a kiss that was soft but filled with every ounce of gratitude and love you couldn’t put into words. you couldn’t stop the tears from falling as you launch yourself into his arms, holding him as tightly as you could. “yeonjun,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

he held you just as tightly, his hand coming up to gently cradle the back of your head. “hey, don’t cry,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple.

“i can’t believe you did this,” you said, pulling back slightly to look at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears.

“of course, i did,” he said, his smile warm and unwavering. “i told you—we’ll figure it out. i just wanted to make sure we had a place that felt like home, no matter how busy things get.”

his breath caught for a second before he melted into you, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb gently swiped away a stray tear that had escaped. you pulled back just slightly, enough to rest your forehead against his.

“yeonjun,” you whispered, voice trembling. “you didn’t have to—”

“but i wanted to,” he cut you off gently, his eyes searching yours. “i know we’re going to different universities, and that scares me too. but i want us to have something that’s ours. a place where we can come back to each other. where you don’t have to worry about missing me because i’ll always be right there.”

a fresh wave of tears threatened to fall, but this time you laughed through them, shaking your head. “you’re impossible, you know that?”

“yeah,” he said, grinning. “but you love me anyway.”

you nodded, letting out a soft laugh as you pressed your lips to his again, your hands framing his face this time. he kissed you back slowly, his lips moving against yours like a silent promise. when you pulled back, your voice was barely audible, thick with emotion.

“i don’t know what i did to deserve you,” you said.

“funny,” he replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “i think the same thing about you every day.”

the two of you sat there for a moment, the red velvet box now forgotten on the bed. yeonjun shifted, lying back and pulling you with him until you were resting against his chest, your legs tangled together like they always seemed to end up.

“our home,” you repeated softly, the words feeling warm and hopeful.

“our home,” he confirmed, pressing a kiss to your temple.

you couldn’t hold back anymore. you kissed him again, your lips meeting his in a soft but fervent expression of everything you couldn’t put into words. he kissed you back just as deeply, his hands coming up to frame your face, thumbs brushing away the tears that spilled down your cheeks.

when you finally pulled back, your foreheads resting together, you whispered, “i love you so much.”

his smile widened, his own voice soft as he replied, “i love you more.”

and just like that, with his heartbeat steady beneath your ear and the promise of a future together in the key you held, the world outside didn’t seem so big or so daunting anymore. it was you and yeonjun—just as it had always been, and just as it always would be.

the days following graduation were a whirlwind of packing, paperwork, and last-minute errands. the reality of leaving for college loomed closer, and while the excitement of starting a new chapter in new york buzzed in the air, there was an undercurrent of bittersweetness as you prepared to leave the familiar behind. every corner of your room, every street you walked with yeonjun, every little mundane routine now carried a weight it hadn’t before, like it was all slipping through your fingers faster than you were ready for.

yeonjun, of course, had a way of keeping you grounded amidst the chaos. he made the busy moments feel lighter, turning even the most tedious tasks into something memorable.

“who knew packing could be this romantic?” he teased one afternoon as you sorted through a pile of old clothes. he was lounging on your bed, flipping through a magazine you’d almost thrown out, while you tried to decide which t-shirts to keep and which to donate.

“romantic?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “how exactly is this romantic?”

“because it’s us,” he said simply, setting the magazine down and leaning on his elbows. “even folding laundry with you feels special.”

you threw a balled-up sock at him, laughing when he dramatically pretended to dodge it. “you’re such a dork.”

“a dork you’re moving to new york with,” he reminded you with a wink, and you couldn’t help but smile at that.

sometimes, though, the moments weren’t about productivity at all. they were about soaking in the last bits of quiet together before life inevitably got busier. one afternoon, the two of you found yourselves sitting on the floor of your nearly empty bedroom, surrounded by boxes. the sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over everything. yeonjun reached into one of the boxes and pulled out a framed photo of the two of you from your junior year.

it was from one of your first official dates—a trip to the local fair. in the picture, you were laughing at something, your head tilted toward him, while he grinned at the camera, his arm draped casually around your shoulders.

“this one’s coming with us,” he said decisively, holding it up like it was the most important thing in the room.

you scooted closer, peering at the photo. “obviously,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “i can’t believe you still have that goofy grin in every photo.”

“what can i say? you make me happy,” he said, his tone teasing but sincere.

you nudged him with your shoulder, a smile tugging at your lips. “cheesy.”

“but true,” he countered, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek.

the kiss lingered for a moment longer than either of you expected, and when he pulled back, his eyes searched yours. “i know we’ll be busy with school and everything, but... this? us? it’s what keeps me grounded,” he said softly.

you reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “same here,” you admitted. “no matter how hectic things get, we’ll figure it out. together.”

he smiled at that, the kind of smile that made your chest tighten in the best way.

later that evening, as the two of you sat on your bed, surrounded by half-packed boxes and the remnants of your childhood room, yeonjun pulled out his phone and started playing a playlist he’d made for you.

“what’s this?” you asked, leaning against his shoulder.

“a soundtrack for new york,” he said, grinning. “thought we could use some good vibes for the road trip.”

“you’re really planning everything, aren’t you?”

“of course,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “i want to make sure it’s perfect for you.”

you didn’t say it out loud, but in that moment, you knew that as long as you had him, it already was.

when the day finally came to move, the two of you stood in the doorway of your new apartment, staring at the blank canvas that would soon become your home. the faint hum of the city buzzed through the open window, a reminder that this was the beginning of something new, something entirely your own.

“it’s perfect,” you said softly, stepping inside and letting your fingers trail along the smooth surface of the kitchen counter.

yeonjun set down the box he was carrying and walked up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist like they belonged there. “it’ll be even better once we make it ours,” he murmured, his chin resting on your shoulder.

you leaned back into him, letting the warmth of his presence settle your nerves. “ours,” you repeated, the word feeling both unfamiliar and deeply comforting.

the day passed in a flurry of activity—unpacking boxes, arranging furniture, and debating over the smallest details. yeonjun insisted the couch should face the window to take advantage of the natural light, while you argued it would make more sense angled toward the wall where a TV could eventually go.

“we don’t even have a TV yet,” he pointed out, laughing as he balanced the couch on its side to test your suggestion.

“but we will,” you shot back, hands on your hips as you watched him struggle. “and when we do, you’ll thank me.”

“sure, sure,” he teased, finally setting the couch down in what he begrudgingly admitted was a decent spot.

by the time the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, the apartment was still far from finished. there were half-unpacked boxes stacked against the walls, and the dining table was still in pieces in the corner. yet, somehow, it already felt like home.

later that night, as you lay on the bed—the only piece of furniture you’d managed to fully set up—yeonjun pulled you close, his arm draped over your waist and his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. the mattress was still bare, and the faint smell of fresh paint lingered in the air, but none of that mattered.

“you know,” he murmured, his voice low and laced with exhaustion, “i was worried this would feel too fast or too much, but it doesn’t. it just feels right.”

you turned to face him, your fingers brushing the hair from his forehead, smoothing it back as his eyes met yours. “that’s because it is right,” you said softly, your words carrying the weight of your certainty. you leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss that was slow and lingering, a reflection of everything you felt but didn’t need to say out loud.

when you pulled back, yeonjun’s eyes searched yours, his expression tender in the dim light filtering through the window. “thank you,” he said suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper.

you frowned slightly, your brows knitting together. “for what?”

“for believing in us,” he said, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your hip. “for making this feel like the best decision i’ve ever made.”

your chest tightened, a wave of emotion washing over you as his words settled in. “you don’t have to thank me for that,” you said, your voice breaking just slightly as you tried to contain the depth of what you felt. “i’d choose us every time.”

his smile was soft, almost shy, as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. “me too,” he whispered against your skin, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

you lay there for a while, tangled in each other as the city lights outside cast a soft glow over the room. his fingers traced lazy patterns along your arm, and you found yourself lulled by the steady rhythm of his breathing.

“this is it, huh?” you murmured after a moment, your voice filled with both awe and disbelief.

“this is it,” he confirmed, his hand finding yours and threading your fingers together.

it wasn’t perfect yet—there were still boxes to unpack, challenges to face, and a lifetime of moments to fill the space you now called home. but as you drifted off to sleep in yeonjun’s arms, the quiet hum of the city serving as your lullaby, you knew that this was the start of something beautiful. and that was more than enough.

the first few weeks of college were a blur for both you and yeonjun. between adjusting to new schedules, navigating unfamiliar campuses, and diving into coursework, it was easy to feel overwhelmed. yet, despite the demands of your separate universities, the two of you were determined to make your relationship the anchor that kept you steady.

every morning started the same way: with yeonjun’s groggy voice mumbling your name from the other side of the bed. “five more minutes,” he groaned one morning, his face buried in the pillow.

“you said that ten minutes ago,” you teased, tugging at the blanket he had wrapped around himself like a cocoon. “if you don’t get up now, you’re going to miss your bus.”

he groaned louder, finally rolling onto his back with his hair sticking out in every direction. “this is why i need you around. without you, i’d probably just sleep through life.”

“and here i thought it was my charming personality that won you over,” you replied, grinning as you threw a pillow at him.

breakfasts during the week were a chaotic rush of toast, coffee, and sometimes sharing a banana as you both scrambled to get out the door. but weekends were a different story entirely. saturday mornings became your time to slow down and just be together.

one saturday, yeonjun decided he was going to make pancakes. “how hard can it be?” he asked, confidently holding up the box of pancake mix.

“famous last words,” you muttered, watching him as he squinted at the instructions on the box.

the first pancake came out lumpy, the second one burned, and by the time he attempted the third, the kitchen was filled with smoke. “maybe i should take over,” you suggested, biting your lip to keep from laughing as yeonjun fanned the smoke detector with a towel.

“absolutely not,” he declared, his determination shining through the chaos. “i’m going to make at least one decent pancake if it kills me.”

eventually, he managed to make a stack that was somewhat edible, and the two of you sat at the kitchen table, laughing as you drowned the pancakes in syrup to mask their slightly charred taste. “see?” he said, pointing his fork at you. “i told you i could do it.”

“sure,” you replied, smirking. “with a little help from mr. syrup and ms. butter.”

in the evenings, no matter how hectic your days had been, you always made time to reconnect. some nights, you’d cook dinner together, bumping into each other in the tiny kitchen as you experimented with recipes you found online. one night, yeonjun insisted on making pasta, only to realize halfway through that you were out of garlic.

“how am i supposed to impress you without garlic?” he lamented dramatically, holding up the empty container.

“you’ll just have to rely on your charm,” you teased, handing him a wooden spoon to stir the sauce.

other nights, you’d order takeout and sprawl out on the couch, sharing stories about your classes and professors. “my econ professor is a literal drill sergeant,” yeonjun said one night, his head resting on your lap as he scrolled through his phone. “he assigned a ten-page paper on the second day of class.”

“sounds like a nightmare,” you said, absentmindedly running your fingers through his hair. “at least you don’t have to deal with group projects.”

“ah, the classic college experience,” he replied, smirking. “if anyone gives you trouble, just let me know. i’ll intimidate them with my charm.”

“yeah, i’m sure your puppy-dog eyes will really strike fear into their hearts,” you said, rolling your eyes.

he grinned, reaching up to pinch your cheek. “don’t underestimate these eyes. they’ve gotten me out of plenty of trouble.”

some nights, you didn’t do much of anything at all. you’d curl up on the couch, the tv playing softly in the background, and just talk. those conversations ranged from the mundane—like what to cook for dinner the next day—to the profound.

“i think i’m starting to figure out what i want to do,” yeonjun said one night, his voice thoughtful as he stared at the ceiling.

“oh yeah? what’s that?” you asked, turning your head to look at him.

“something creative,” he said. “i don’t know what exactly, but i want to make things that mean something to people.”

you smiled, reaching over to take his hand. “you’re already amazing. whatever you choose, you’ll be great at it.”

he turned his head to meet your gaze. “and you? what’s your big plan?”

you hesitated, shrugging. “i don’t know yet. but i think as long as i’m happy and i have you, i’ll figure it out.”

he squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “we’ll figure it out together.”

and that’s how it went. your days were hectic, filled with classes, assignments, and the occasional stress-induced breakdown. but your nights were yours—little pockets of time where the rest of the world faded away, leaving just the two of you. no matter how busy life got, you always found your way back to each other, and that was all that mattered.

the love between you and yeonjun wasn’t loud or flashy; it was in the little things, the small, unspoken acts that made life a little easier, a little brighter. the kind of love that wasn’t about grand gestures but about being there for each other in the moments that mattered most.

one night, after pulling an all-nighter for a paper due the next day, you stumbled into the apartment looking like a zombie. your backpack hung off one shoulder, barely clinging on as you trudged through the door. your eyes were red and puffy, and your hair was a chaotic mess that even you couldn’t care to fix. yeonjun was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone, but the moment he saw you, his face shifted into a mix of concern and tenderness.

“you look like you just survived a war,” he said, setting his phone down and standing up to meet you.

“it feels like i did,” you mumbled, dropping your bag unceremoniously to the floor before collapsing onto the couch.

yeonjun followed you, crouching in front of you so he could look into your eyes. his hand reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. “did you eat anything today?” he asked softly, his voice full of worry.

you shook your head, too drained to explain that you hadn’t even thought about food between your back-to-back classes and endless study sessions. without another word, yeonjun stood up and disappeared into the kitchen. you leaned back against the cushions, your body sinking into the familiar comfort of the couch, and let out a long sigh.

a few minutes later, yeonjun returned with a steaming bowl of ramen, the smell immediately making your stomach growl. he had even added a soft-boiled egg and a sprinkle of green onions on top, the way he knew you liked it.

“here,” he said, sitting down beside you and holding out the bowl. “eat this. it’ll help.”

you blinked at him, the exhaustion momentarily replaced by a wave of gratitude. “you didn’t have to do that,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“shh,” he said, cutting you off as he grabbed the chopsticks and guided them toward your lips. “just eat. no arguments.”

you opened your mouth obediently, letting him feed you the first bite. the warmth of the broth spread through you instantly, soothing the ache in your chest and stomach. as you continued eating, yeonjun stayed by your side, his eyes never leaving you. he made sure the bowl didn’t tip, nudging it closer whenever your hands started to falter from sheer exhaustion.

“you’re too good to me,” you said between bites, your voice heavy with emotion.

“someone has to be,” he replied, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “you don’t exactly make it easy for yourself.”

when you finished, yeonjun took the empty bowl back to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a glass of water. he handed it to you, watching as you drank before gently pulling you to your feet.

“come on,” he said, his arm slipping around your waist to steady you. “you’re going to bed.”

“but i still have—”

“nope,” he interrupted, guiding you toward the bedroom. “whatever it is, it can wait. you need to rest.”

once you were in bed, yeonjun pulled the blankets up to your chin, tucking you in like you were the most precious thing in the world. his hand lingered on your forehead for a moment, checking for any signs of a fever.

“sleep,” he whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple. “i’ll wake you up in time for class.”

you closed your eyes, the weight of the day finally lifting as his warmth and care enveloped you. as you drifted off, you couldn’t help but think how lucky you were to have someone like yeonjun—someone who always knew exactly what you needed, even when you didn’t know it yourself.

the next morning, you woke up to the soft light filtering through the blinds, casting a gentle glow across the room. for a moment, you just lay there, trying to remember where you were, what day it was, and why you felt so much better than you had the night before. as your mind cleared, you realized that yeonjun had kept his promise. you weren’t exhausted anymore, the weight of the all-nighter lifted by the sleep you’d gotten.

you stretched, feeling the satisfying crack of your back, and turned to check the time. to your surprise, it was still early. your phone buzzed on the nightstand, and you reached over to grab it, seeing a message from yeonjun.

“good morning sleepyhead. i’ll make sure you’re not late for class, promise.”

a smile tugged at your lips as you texted back.

“thanks for last night. i actually feel human again.”

a few seconds later, your phone buzzed again.

“of course. now get up, i made you breakfast.”

you blinked, confused at first, before the realization hit. breakfast? he actually made breakfast? with a groan, you pushed yourself out of bed and pulled on your robe, heading for the kitchen. as soon as you walked in, you were hit with the delicious smell of eggs and toast, and you saw yeonjun standing at the stove, flipping something in the pan.

“good morning,” he said, turning around with a bright smile. “i didn’t burn it this time, i swear.”

you chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. “you made breakfast?” you asked, a little in awe.

“yep. i thought i’d take care of you for once,” he replied, setting the plate down on the table. “i wasn’t sure what you wanted, so i made a little of everything.”

the table was laid out with eggs, toast, some fruit, and a pot of tea. it wasn’t anything extravagant, but the care he put into it made it feel special. you sat down, feeling a warm rush of affection for him.

“this is perfect,” you said softly, picking up your fork. “thank you.”

yeonjun sat across from you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “you’re welcome, but only if you promise to eat it all. i spent a solid twenty minutes on the eggs.”

“deal,” you said, taking a bite. “these are really good. did you learn how to make eggs from youtube?”

“i might’ve watched a few videos,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “but it’s not as easy as it looks. i almost ruined them, actually.”

you laughed, feeling a little lighter than you had the day before. as you ate, you both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only came with time spent together. it was these moments, the quiet ones where you didn’t need to say much, that made you feel the most connected to him.

after breakfast, yeonjun stood up to clean the dishes, but you stopped him. “i’ll do it,” you said, getting up from the table.

“no, i’ve got it,” he insisted, pushing you back toward the couch. “you just relax. you’ve got a long day ahead.”

you rolled your eyes but let him take the dishes anyway, knowing he wouldn’t relent. as you sat back down on the couch, you scrolled through your phone, mentally preparing for the day. it wasn’t until yeonjun finished the dishes and returned to sit beside you that you realized something: you weren’t dreading the day like you usually did after an all-nighter.

you felt light. you felt like you could handle whatever came your way. and you realized it was because of him—because yeonjun always knew how to make everything feel easier, how to make the hardest days seem a little less overwhelming.

he nudged your shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts. “ready to go?” he asked, offering his hand.

you smiled, taking his hand as you stood up. “yeah. but only because you’re with me.”

he grinned, that familiar, comforting smile that made your heart flutter. “always,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “i’ll always be with you.”

and as you both walked out the door together, side by side, you knew that no matter how hard the day might get, as long as yeonjun was by your side, everything would be okay.

and then the rainy days.

rainy days were never your favorite. you hated the way the damp air clung to your skin, the cold chill that seemed to seep into your bones no matter how many layers you wore. but the thing you hated most was carrying an umbrella. it always felt too bulky, too inconvenient, and you’d often complain about it when the weather turned. the thought of lugging around an umbrella for hours just didn’t sit right with you, and yet, you always ended up doing it.

but then there was yeonjun.

yeonjun, who somehow made it his personal mission to make sure you never had to carry an umbrella again. he had noticed early on how much you disliked it, how you’d sigh and grumble when it started raining, and how you’d leave your umbrella in your bag, trying to avoid the hassle of opening it. and so, whenever the weather turned gray, yeonjun was there, always with an umbrella in hand, ready to protect you from the downpour.

one particularly rainy afternoon, you were at the library, buried under a mountain of books, trying to finish an assignment that had been eating up your time all week. the rain had started coming down in sheets, and you could hear it tapping against the windows, the sound almost rhythmic. you were so focused on your work that you hadn’t even noticed your phone buzzed until a few minutes later.

yeonjun: stay put. i’m on my way.

you frowned at the message, glancing out the window. the rain was relentless, and the idea of walking to the bus stop in it made you groan. you texted back, halfheartedly: it’s fine, i’ll be okay.

but yeonjun didn’t take “it’s fine” for an answer. he knew you too well. just as you were packing up your things, trying to brace yourself for the walk, you saw him.

he walked into the library, his hair damp from the rain, his coat slightly clinging to his shoulders from the wetness. despite the storm outside, there he was, with that same soft, confident smile that always seemed to make your heart skip a beat. and in his hand was the umbrella.

“yeonjun,” you said, feeling a warmth spread through your chest despite the chill in the air. “you didn’t have to come all the way here.”

he just shrugged, looking at you with that playful glint in his eyes. “and let you walk in the rain? no way.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “seriously, i can handle it. it’s not that bad.”

he shook his head, holding the umbrella up over both of you as you stepped outside into the downpour. “i’m not letting you handle it. you’ll catch a cold.”

“yeonjun, you’re going to get soaked,” you pointed out, as the rain continued to fall heavily.

“don’t worry about me,” he said, his voice light. “i’m fine. now, let’s go.”

as you walked together toward the bus stop, yeonjun adjusted the umbrella, tilting it more toward you to make sure you stayed dry. you couldn’t help but notice how his shoulder was getting soaked, the water dripping down his sleeve, but he didn’t seem to care.

“yeonjun,” you scolded, trying to nudge the umbrella back toward him. “stop. you’re getting wet.”

he looked down at you with a mischievous grin. “stop worrying about me. i’m taller. i can handle a little rain.”

you shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “you’re impossible.”

but even as you scolded him, you secretly loved how thoughtful he was. it was in the little things he did, the way he always thought of you before himself, the way he made sure you were okay before he even considered his own comfort.

the two of you continued walking in comfortable silence, the sound of the rain falling around you and the soft shuffle of your footsteps filling the space. yeonjun’s shoulder kept getting wetter, but he never complained. he just kept that same warm, steady smile on his face as he focused on making sure you were dry.

as you neared the bus stop, you glanced up at him, realizing how lucky you were to have someone like him. someone who would go out of his way, rain or shine, to make sure you were okay.

“thank you,” you said quietly, your voice soft.

as you neared the bus stop, you glanced up at him, realizing how lucky you were to have someone like him. someone who would go out of his way, rain or shine, to make sure you were okay.

“thank you,” you said quietly, your voice soft.

yeonjun’s smile was gentle as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with affection. “you don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his tone sincere. “i’ll always be here for you, rain or shine.”

you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell at his words. it was moments like these, when he wasn’t saying much but his actions spoke louder than anything, that made you realize just how much he cared. you stood there for a moment, feeling the warmth of his presence, even with the cold rain still pouring down around you.

when the bus finally arrived, you both got on, settling into your seats in comfortable silence. as the bus ride went on, you found yourself leaning into him, the chill from the rain still lingering on your skin. yeonjun’s hand found yours, squeezing it gently as if to reassure you that he was still there, still taking care of you.

when you reached your apartment, you both hurried inside, eager to escape the dampness of the rain. the warmth of the apartment wrapped around you, a stark contrast to the cold air outside. yeonjun hung his wet coat on the rack, then turned to you, his eyes locking onto yours. there was a softness to his gaze, but also something deeper, something more intense.

without saying a word, he closed the distance between you, his hands gently cupping your face. the cold from the rain still clung to his skin, but it didn’t matter. you could feel the heat radiating between the two of you, the connection that was always there, but tonight, it felt stronger.

and then, he kissed you.

it started slow, tentative, as if he was savoring the moment. but as the kiss deepened, it became more urgent, the need for each other rising with every touch. the coldness of the rain outside was quickly forgotten, replaced by the warmth of his lips, the heat of his body pressed against yours. you melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

you pulled away for a moment, breathless, but yeonjun wasn’t ready to stop. his lips trailed down your neck, sending shivers down your spine, and you let out a soft gasp, your hands tangling in his hair. the world outside seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you in this small, intimate space.

“yeonjun…” you whispered, your voice shaky from the intensity of the kiss.

“shh,” he murmured against your skin, his hands slipping to your waist, pulling you closer. “let me take care of you.”

the night stretched on like that, the two of you lost in each other, the coldness of the rain replaced by the warmth of your bodies.

yeonjun wasn’t the only one who cared. you had your ways of looking after him too.

one evening, after he came home from a long day of classes and basketball practice, he flopped onto the couch with a groan. “i think my legs are going to fall off,” he muttered, collapsing onto the cushions with a dramatic sigh.

you walked over and sat beside him, already feeling the exhaustion radiating from his body. your hands instinctively reached for his shoulders, finding the tightness in his muscles. “let me help,” you said softly, beginning to knead the knots that had formed after hours of practice and running.

he let out a deep sigh, his head dropping forward as you worked on his neck. “you’re too good to me,” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion.

you smiled as you pressed a little harder, working your fingers into the tension. “someone has to take care of you,” you said, your tone playful yet affectionate. “besides, you deserve it. you’ve been working so hard.”

he groaned again, a contented sound escaping him as the pressure of your hands began to soothe his sore muscles. “if you keep doing this, i’m going to start thinking you’re an angel sent to fix me,” he joked, but his voice held a softness that made you melt.

you leaned forward slightly, your hands gliding down his back, finding more areas that needed attention. “well, i’ll take the credit for now,” you teased, “but seriously, you need to rest more. basketball practice and schoolwork don’t have to take over everything.”

“yeah, but you know me,” he said with a lazy smile, “i’ve got to keep pushing myself.”

“you’re allowed to take a break,” you replied, pressing your thumb into a particularly tense spot. “you can’t always be the one pushing forward.”

“i know, i know,” he muttered, clearly enjoying the attention. “but with you taking care of me like this, it makes it all worth it.”

your heart fluttered at his words, and you leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of his head. “i don’t mind,” you whispered. “i love looking after you.”

he turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze with a look that made your chest tighten. “remind me to marry you one day,” he said, his voice low but filled with sincerity. though his words were light, there was a warmth in his tone that made your cheeks flush.

you chuckled, the soft pink of your cheeks growing deeper as you continued to work on his shoulders. “maybe i will,” you teased, giving him another kiss on the top of his head, this time lingering for a moment longer.

he smiled, his eyes half-lidded in contentment as he relaxed further into the couch, letting you take care of him. “well, i’m glad to know i’ve got someone like you looking out for me.”

you leaned back, letting your hands rest gently on his shoulders as you gazed at him with a soft smile. “always,” you whispered. “always.”

and when yeonjun found out he’d earned a spot on his university’s basketball team—and a scholarship to go with it—he couldn’t contain his excitement.

“i did it!” he yelled, bursting into the apartment and nearly tackling you in a hug. you barely had time to react before he had you lifted off the ground, spinning you around with an energy that made your heart race.

“yeonjun!” you laughed, your breath caught in your throat as you clung to him for support. “put me down!”

he didn’t seem to hear you at first, still caught up in his excitement, but finally, with a wide grin on his face, he set you down gently, his arms lingering around you, pulling you closer as if to keep you in the moment with him.

his eyes sparkled with an intensity that made your heart swell. “i made the team,” he said, his voice a mix of disbelief and pride. “and i got the scholarship. i can’t believe it.”

you cupped his face in your hands, your smile spreading across your face as you looked at him. “i’m so proud of you,” you said, your voice filled with affection. you could see the relief and happiness radiating from him, and it made your chest tighten with joy.

“i couldn’t have done it without you,” he said softly, his voice laced with sincerity. his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you even closer as he looked into your eyes, as if to say he truly meant it.

you chuckled, shaking your head as you wrapped your arms around him. “yes, you could’ve,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow. “you’re incredible on your own. but i’m glad i could be here for you.”

he grinned, his eyes twinkling with that mischievous glint you loved so much. “well, it’s nice to know i have someone cheering me on, even when i feel like giving up.” he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his hands still resting on your hips, holding you in the quiet joy of the moment.

later that night, after a celebratory dinner of takeout and a cheap bottle of wine you’d picked up from the corner store, you sat on the couch, the soft buzz of the alcohol making the evening feel even more relaxed. the warmth of the apartment wrapped around you both, and yeonjun was sitting close, his arm draped over your shoulder, his fingers gently tracing circles on your skin.

as you clinked your glasses together, toasting to his success, yeonjun looked at you, his expression softening as he set his glass down on the coffee table. “i really couldn’t have done it without you,” he said again, his voice lower now, filled with a quiet sincerity that made your heart flutter. “you’ve always been there for me, supporting me through everything.”

you felt a lump form in your throat, the weight of his words hitting you deeper than you expected. you swallowed and smiled, brushing your thumb over his hand. “i’m just glad i could be here. i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your temple in a tender kiss. “you’ve always believed in me, even when i didn’t believe in myself,” he murmured. “i think that’s what really pushed me to make it this far.”

you snuggled into his side, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. “you were always capable of this,” you whispered, resting your head against his shoulder. “i’m just lucky enough to be here to see it.”

he smiled, his hand moving to your back as he held you closer. “i’m the lucky one,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “i’ve got you by my side.”

you closed your eyes for a moment, letting the sound of his heartbeat soothe you as you drifted in the comfort of each other’s presence. this was the beginning of something bigger, you knew that for sure. yeonjun’s dreams were starting to take shape, and you were right there with him, cheering him on every step of the way.

“we’re going to celebrate even more when you win that first game,” you said with a smile, lifting your head to look at him.

he grinned, his eyes filled with determination. “you bet we will,” he said, pressing a kiss to your lips, sealing the promise of everything that was to come.

and in that moment, everything felt perfect.

your first holiday together in your shared apartment was a mix of chaos and magic. neither of you had much experience decorating, but that didn’t stop you from going all out.

“this tree is way too big for our living room,” yeonjun said, struggling to fit the massive tree you’d picked out into the corner. the branches brushed against the walls, threatening to knock over the lamp you’d just placed there. his arms were outstretched, pushing and pulling, but the tree stubbornly refused to settle in any position that seemed reasonable.

“it’s perfect,” you insisted, standing on tiptoe to hang a glittery ornament on one of the branches, your voice laced with excitement. the ornament wobbled a little before it hung straight, and you stepped back, admiring the sparkle it added to the already glowing tree. the sheer size of the tree seemed to make the space feel even cozier, despite the crowded corners.

yeonjun sighed dramatically, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. “i swear this tree is going to be the death of me.” he gave one last push to the tree, stepping back with a satisfied grunt.

you grinned, crossing your arms. “you’re being dramatic. it’s just a tree.” you tilted your head, amused by his antics. you loved how seriously he took the decorating process.

“just a tree?” he echoed with a raised eyebrow, glancing around at the pile of decorations scattered across the floor. “this tree has taken over our apartment.” but even though he sounded like he was about to explode from the absurdity of it all, his smile never faded, and his eyes never lost the warmth that made everything feel right.

the two of you spent hours decorating, laughing as you tried to get the garland just right and joking over how many ornaments were too many. you baked cookies, the smell of cinnamon filling the air, though some of them came out a little more “crispy” than intended. yeonjun claimed they still tasted good, but you both secretly agreed that the burnt ones were more “charmingly imperfect” than actually edible.

after the decorating madness came the argument over which christmas movie to watch. you wanted the classic, sentimental feel-good film, while yeonjun argued that something more fun and lighthearted would set the mood. you went back and forth for a while, teasing each other as you fought over the remote.

finally, you settled on one of your favorites, the perfect blend of sweet and funny, and collapsed onto the couch together. the tree twinkled softly in the corner, and the lights flickered like a thousand little stars. the living room was cozy, a small sanctuary filled with warmth and laughter.

yeonjun pulled you close, his arm around your shoulders as you leaned into him. you let out a content sigh, your eyes fluttering closed as you melted into the warmth of his embrace. the movie played on, but you didn’t care about the plot anymore. you were too busy soaking in the simple joy of being with him. this was your moment, and nothing else seemed to matter.

“this is nice,” yeonjun said quietly, his voice low and filled with affection. he sounded like he was holding onto the moment as tightly as you were, and you felt your heart swell with the realization that this was more than just a holiday. it was a promise, a shared dream of building something together.

“it is,” you agreed, your voice thick with the warmth of the moment. your head rested against his chest, and the sound of his heartbeat was the perfect lullaby, steady and calming. it felt like the world had paused just for the two of you.

as the credits rolled on the movie, yeonjun turned to you, his expression shifting into something more serious, more vulnerable. you looked up at him, your heart suddenly racing. “thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but there was a weight to it that made your stomach flutter.

“for what?” you asked, a smile playing at the corners of your lips, though your heart was already bracing for something deeper.

“for making this place feel like home,” he replied, his gaze softening as he looked at you with such tenderness that it took your breath away. he leaned down and kissed your forehead, the warmth of his lips lingering long after he pulled back.

your chest tightened, a feeling of overwhelming affection blooming inside you. “merry christmas, yeonjun,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but filled with everything you couldn’t quite express in words.

“merry christmas,” he echoed, his arms tightening around you, pulling you even closer. it was as if he never wanted to let go, as if he was afraid that if he did, the moment would slip away. and in a way, you felt the same. this was a memory, a feeling you wanted to hold onto forever.

those moments, as small and simple as they were, were the foundation of your love story. they were proof that love didn’t have to be extravagant to be meaningful. it was in the way you took care of each other, celebrated each other, and found joy in the everyday. in the way you decorated a too-big tree and laughed over burnt cookies. in the way you bickered over movies and then forgot about it in the warmth of each other’s arms. in the way you created a home together, not with things or grand gestures, but with moments that felt like they could last forever.

and that, you realized, was what made your love so special. it was the quiet, unspoken moments. the feeling of being seen and cared for. the promise of forever in a simple kiss, a shared holiday, a memory that would live in your heart long after the tree came down.

after that first holiday together, things fell back into the usual rhythm. the excitement of the new year faded into the mundane, but there was something undeniably comfortable about it. yeonjun was still adjusting to the pressures of college life—balancing basketball with his studies—and you were still trying to navigate the demanding courses that felt more overwhelming with each passing day. but through it all, yeonjun was always there, offering you support, his quiet understanding a constant presence in your life.

as the weeks went on, yeonjun began introducing you to his friends from college—jay and sunghoon, his teammates from the basketball team. you hadn’t made many friends of your own since starting college. truth be told, you hadn’t felt the need to. you had yeonjun, who was both your boyfriend and your best friend, and that was enough for you. the thought of making new friends seemed like a burdensome task, especially with how difficult school was for you. besides, yeonjun had a way of making everything feel less daunting. if you had him, you didn’t need anyone else.

jay and sunghoon were easy to get along with, full of energy and charm. whenever they came over to your apartment, they’d crack jokes, teasing yeonjun in the way that only close friends could. at first, you found their easy camaraderie a bit intimidating. they had their own group, their own world, and you felt like an outsider, just tagging along. still, yeonjun always made sure to include you in their conversations, trying to draw you out of your shell.

“come on, join us,” jay would say with a grin, nudging you as he and sunghoon sprawled on the couch, already deep in conversation about the latest basketball game. “you’re not just gonna sit there and watch us, right?”

you’d laugh awkwardly, still unsure of how to interact with them. “i’m just... i don’t know. i don’t want to interrupt.”

yeonjun would look over at you, his gaze warm. “you’re not interrupting, babe. we want you here.”

but despite his reassurances, you still felt out of place. their friendship was effortless, while yours with yeonjun felt like the only bond you needed. college was hard enough without having to deal with the complexities of socializing. you had your own quiet space in your shared apartment, and that was where you felt most comfortable. the outside world could be chaotic, but here, in the quiet of your home, you had everything you needed.

still, yeonjun’s social life kept growing. as a rising star on the basketball team, he was constantly invited to parties and events, surrounded by people who admired him. at first, he’d ask you to join him, a hopeful look in his eyes. “come on, babe. you can’t just stay home all the time. you’ll have fun, i promise.”

but you’d always find a way to decline. “i’ve got so much work to do,” you’d say, your voice soft but firm. “i’ll just get in the way.”

yeonjun would frown, but he never pushed. he understood. “i get it,” he’d say. “but you’re always welcome to come with me. it’s no fun without you.”

most nights, yeonjun would go to the parties without you. you’d be left in the apartment, working late into the night or watching tv shows alone. you never minded it too much, but there was a small part of you that felt disconnected from his world, from the life he was building outside of your shared space.

then, one night, you decided to go with him. it wasn’t that you were suddenly interested in the party scene; it was more that you didn’t want to keep missing out on the parts of his life that mattered to him. you didn’t want to be the one left behind.

when you walked into the party, the noise hit you first—the thumping bass of the music, the laughter and chatter filling the room. yeonjun, ever the popular one, was immediately surrounded by people. friends from the basketball team, classmates, strangers—everyone seemed to know him. and everyone seemed to gravitate toward him. they complimented him on his latest game, joked around with him, and made him the center of attention. and there you were, standing on the edge of it all, watching as he effortlessly navigated the social maze. you felt small, invisible even.

people would glance at you, nod politely, but then turn their attention back to yeonjun. it wasn’t that they were rude, it was just that they were so enamored with him, so focused on him, that you felt like a shadow in the background. you smiled awkwardly, trying to join in on conversations, but it was clear that you didn’t belong in their world. the attention always circled back to yeonjun, and you were left in his wake.

you tried to shake off the feeling, but it lingered. when you finally left the party with yeonjun later that night, you didn’t say much. you just followed him home, lost in your own thoughts. you couldn’t deny it—yeonjun had changed. college had changed him. and though you loved him with all your heart, there was a part of you that felt like you were losing him, piece by piece, to the world outside.

the night ended quietly. yeonjun had drunk a bit more than usual, and when he came home, he was tipsy, his words slurring as he apologized for the night. “i’m sorry,” he mumbled, stumbling toward the couch. “i didn’t mean to drag you into that... i should’ve been more considerate.”

you smiled softly, helping him onto the couch. “it’s fine, yeonjun. i’m just glad you’re home safe.”

you made him a quick meal—something light, just enough to help him sober up. as you set the plate down in front of him, he looked up at you, his eyes heavy with sleep. “thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “you’re always here for me.”

you brushed his hair out of his face, your fingers gentle. “of course i am. i love you.”

he smiled sleepily, closing his eyes as he drifted off to sleep. you sat there beside him for a while, watching him rest, feeling the quiet warmth of his presence beside you. there was a peace in those moments, in the simplicity of taking care of each other.

the next morning, yeonjun was up early, as usual, for basketball practice. he leaned over and kissed you softly on the forehead before pulling himself out of bed. “i made breakfast,” he whispered, his voice hushed with sleep. “i love you. i’ll see you later.”

you smiled, watching him leave with a mixture of affection and a little sadness. you weren’t sure what it was—maybe it was the parties, or maybe it was the growing distance between you two that had been slowly creeping in. but in that moment, you felt the weight of everything that had changed.

you stayed in bed for a little while longer, content in the quiet of the apartment. yeonjun was busy with basketball, and you had your own work to focus on. life had become a series of routines—mornings filled with breakfast and soft kisses, nights spent working or watching tv shows alone. and though there was still love, there was something missing, something that neither of you could put into words. yet, for now, you were content with what you had.

in the end, that was all that mattered. at least for now.

the small changes continues to crept in, so subtle at first that you almost didn’t notice them. at first, it was just a little shift. yeonjun’s calls became shorter, his voice a little more distracted, as if something was always pulling him away. the long, late-night conversations you used to have, talking about everything and nothing at all, started to dwindle. texts, once a constant stream throughout the day, now took longer to respond to. sometimes, you’d send a message and wait hours for a reply, and when he did get back to you, it was often just a quick “sorry, been busy” or “talk later, okay?”

you rationalized it, convincing yourself that it was just a phase. he was adjusting to his new life, balancing basketball, studies, and everything else that came with being a college student. this was normal, right? everyone went through it. he still made time for you, didn’t he? he still called, still checked in. it wasn’t like he was ignoring you, it was just... life.

but with each passing day, the silence between you two seemed to grow a little longer. the warmth you’d once shared felt more distant, and though you tried to ignore it, the feeling of being left behind slowly began to creep in.

you tried not to make a big deal of it. after all, yeonjun was still yeonjun—the guy who’d once held your hand in the middle of the chaos, who had kissed you softly under the glow of the christmas tree. he was still the one who had promised that no matter what, he’d always make time for you. but promises, you were beginning to realize, were sometimes harder to keep when life got in the way.

one evening, you were sitting on the couch, flipping through the pages of a textbook that you were supposed to be studying, but your mind kept drifting. your phone sat beside you, silent, and for a brief moment, you wondered if you should call him. but then, you caught yourself. what would you say? would he even have time to talk?

just as you were about to return your focus to the textbook, your phone buzzed. you glanced at it, and your heart gave a small, hopeful flutter when you saw yeonjun’s name. but as you opened the message, your smile faded a little.

“hey, sorry i’ve been distant. i know you’re probably wondering what’s up. practice is killing me lately, and there’s a lot going on. i miss you though. i’ll call when i get the chance, okay? see u when i get home.”

it wasn’t the first time he’d apologized, but it still stung a little. you typed out a response quickly, wanting to be understanding, but the words felt heavy on your fingertips.

“it’s okay. i know you’re busy. i miss you too. just... don’t forget to eat, okay?”

you stared at the message before sending it, unsure if you had said too much or not enough. but once it was out there, you hit send, watching the little dots appear as he typed back.

“i’ll make time soon, promise. ah, i need to get back to practice. i’ll see u at home.”

you hoped that was true. you really did. but deep down, there was a part of you that feared it wouldn’t be that simple. life didn’t always give you the luxury of time. sometimes, it took more than promises to make things right.

that night, you tried to go to sleep early, but your mind wouldn’t quiet. you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the days in your head. yeonjun’s growing distance, the way his attention seemed to be drawn elsewhere. the parties he went to, the late-night practices, the endless commitments that seemed to pull him farther and farther from you.

the next morning, you woke up to an empty bed. yeonjun had already left for practice, and his usual good morning text was waiting for you. “i love you. have a good day, babe. i’ll see you later.”

it was the same text, the same words, but they felt hollow now. like something was missing. you sighed, pushing yourself out of bed and starting your day, but the weight of the silence lingered.

you told yourself it was just a phase. just a small bump in the road. things would get better. you had to believe that.

later that afternoon, yeonjun finally called. his voice sounded tired, a little strained, but it still made your heart race when you heard it. “hey,” he greeted softly, “how’s your day going?”

“it’s going,” you replied, trying to sound upbeat. “just studying, you know. how about you? how’s practice?”

“exhausting,” he muttered, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “i swear, coach is trying to kill us. but it’s all good. i’m just ready for a break.”

you both fell into an easy rhythm, but even then, there was a slight tension in the air, something unspoken hanging between you. yeonjun was trying to be present, but his mind was elsewhere, and you could tell.

“so, i was thinking,” yeonjun began, his voice light, “maybe we could go out this weekend. just the two of us. i know things have been... busy, but i miss spending time with you.”

your heart fluttered at the thought. it was a small gesture, but it meant everything. “that sounds nice,” you said softly. “i’d love that.”

you both talked a little longer, but eventually, the conversation came to a close. yeonjun had to go. “i’ll text you later,” he promised, his voice warm, but hurried. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” you whispered, your fingers lingering on the phone after the call ended.

but as you put the phone down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was slipping through your fingers, just out of reach. and no matter how much you tried to hold on, you couldn’t ignore the fact that things were changing. slowly, imperceptibly, but they were changing all the same. but then that weekend came, and you were waiting for yeonjun to come home from basketball practice. he’d texted you earlier, a quick, excited, “start getting ready, babe, i’ll be home in thirty minutes.” you could practically hear the smile in his words, and your heart fluttered in response. the thought of finally having a night for just the two of you—a break from the silence, from the distance that had quietly seeped into your relationship—felt like a balm for the ache you hadn’t admitted was there.

you’d planned this evening in your head all day. maybe you’d go to that small italian place he’d been wanting to try. maybe you’d walk hand-in-hand through the park afterward, laughing at his bad jokes, stealing kisses under the streetlights. or maybe you’d stay home, light a candle, and eat takeout on the couch while watching a movie. it didn’t matter what you did. all that mattered was that it would be just the two of you, uninterrupted.

you got ready quickly, excitement buzzing in your chest. you pulled out the dress he’d once told you was his favorite—the one that made him look at you like you were the only person in the world. as you zipped it up, you smiled at your reflection, imagining the way his eyes would light up when he saw you. carefully, you applied your makeup, each brushstroke deliberate, the anticipation building with every passing second.

you checked the clock. twenty minutes. you sat down on the couch, your phone in hand, scrolling idly through social media as you waited. thirty minutes wasn’t long. you glanced at your phone again, watching the seconds crawl by.

but thirty minutes turned into forty-five. then an hour.

at first, you told yourself it was fine. practice might’ve run late. maybe he got held up talking to the coach or his teammates. you sent him a quick text—“hey, are you okay? let me know when you’re coming.”—and put your phone back down, determined not to let the creeping worry ruin your night.

but the hour became two. the excitement that had filled you earlier began to wane, replaced by a heavy, uneasy feeling. you checked your phone again, but there was no reply. no missed calls, no messages.

you paced the small living room, your mind racing. what if something had happened? what if he’d gotten hurt? what if he needed you?

you sent another text, this one shorter, more direct. “yeonjun, are you okay? please call me.” you hesitated before pressing send, staring at the words on the screen. your fingers hovered over the keyboard, tempted to call him, but you stopped yourself. you didn’t want to seem clingy. you didn’t want to overreact.

three hours.

the makeup you’d carefully applied felt like a mask now, heavy and suffocating. the smudged eyeliner traced faint shadows beneath your eyes, and your lipstick had faded into uneven patches, a cruel reminder of how much effort you’d put into tonight. effort that now felt wasted. standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you stared at your reflection, your chest tightening with every passing second of silence from your phone.

your fingers trembled as you reached for a makeup wipe, the motion robotic, devoid of the hope that had fueled you hours ago. the coldness of the wipe against your skin matched the dull ache in your chest, and as you began wiping away the remnants of your effort, the doorbell rang.

your heart leapt, an involuntary burst of hope surging through you. you dropped the wipe and sprinted to the door, not caring about the uneven streaks left on your face. this was it. he was here. he was finally here.

you swung the door open, breathless, ready to greet him with relief and maybe a little anger for making you wait so long. but instead, you froze.

yeonjun was slumped between jay and sunghoon, his teammates from the basketball team. his head lolled forward, and his eyes were glassy, unfocused. his cheeks were flushed, his shirt wrinkled and slightly damp with sweat. the sharp, unmistakable scent of alcohol hit you before they even spoke.

“the team had a small gathering after practice,” sunghoon said softly, his tone almost apologetic. jay offered a half-smile, awkward and sheepish. “he, uh... overdid it a little.”

a knot formed in your throat, but you swallowed it down. “thanks for bringing him back,” you murmured, stepping aside to let them in. your voice sounded strange to your own ears—calm, steady, like this was normal. like you weren’t breaking inside.

they helped ease him onto the couch, his limbs limp and uncooperative. jay adjusted a pillow under his head, while sunghoon muttered a quiet, “sorry about this,” before they both left, closing the door softly behind them.

and then it was just you and yeonjun.

you stood there for a moment, staring at him sprawled across the couch, his head tilted back, mouth slightly open. this was supposed to be your night. the night you’d been holding on to all week. the night that was meant to remind you that you still mattered to him.

but here he was, drunk and incoherent, too far gone to even remember the promise he’d made to you.

with a sigh, you went to the kitchen, grabbing a towel and soaking it in warm water. you knelt in front of him, the ache in your chest spreading to every corner of your body. as you gently wiped his face, his hand suddenly shot out, weakly grabbing yours. his touch was clumsy, his grip loose, but the desperation in it made your breath catch.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice thick and slurred. “i’ll make this work, i promise. don’t leave me. i love you.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, and before you could stop yourself, tears began to spill down your cheeks. they came fast and hot, blurring your vision as you stared at him. don’t leave me. the irony of it twisted something deep inside you.

you wanted to scream at him, to shake him awake and ask if he even realized how much of yourself you’d already given up just to hold on to him. instead, you wiped at your tears with the back of your hand, your voice breaking as you whispered, “i love you more than you know.”

you wanted to say more—to tell him how much it hurt to feel like you were slipping further and further down his list of priorities. to tell him how scared you were that you’d already lost him, even though he was right in front of you. but the words wouldn’t come. they were lodged in your throat, a lump of fear and sadness that refused to budge.

yeonjun’s eyes fluttered closed, his breathing evening out as he slipped into unconsciousness. you sat back on your heels, the damp towel still clutched in your hands. the silence in the room felt deafening, pressing down on you like a weight you couldn’t escape.

the dress you’d chosen so carefully now felt suffocating, its fabric clinging to your skin in all the wrong ways. you stood up, peeling it off and pulling on an old sweatshirt, comfort replacing the pretense of a perfect evening.

you sat on the floor beside the couch, knees pulled to your chest, watching the slow rise and fall of his breathing. this was supposed to be your night. but instead, it was just another reminder of how much you were losing him—to basketball, to his teammates, to a life that no longer seemed to have space for you.

is this what love is supposed to feel like? you wondered. like holding on to something that’s slipping through your fingers, no matter how tightly you try to grasp it? when did this start? you thought. was it when you got into the basketball team? or was it when he started seeing a new world—a world without you in it?

you stayed there until the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, too afraid to move, too afraid to let go.

yeonjun had always been your sunshine—a warm, steady presence in your life. but lately, that warmth had dimmed, replaced by something heavier, something unfamiliar. he was still sweet, still kind, still yeonjun, but there was a distance you couldn’t ignore.

he would still hold you, kiss your forehead, and call you by the nickname only he used, but it felt different now. his arms around you weren’t as tight, his kisses weren’t as lingering, and his words carried a shadow, a flicker of something unspoken.

at first, you told yourself it was just stress. college was demanding, basketball even more so. he was balancing so much, and you didn’t want to add to his burden. “it’s just a phase,” you whispered to yourself at night, staring at the ceiling. “we’ll get through it. we always do.”

but the gnawing doubt in your chest refused to quiet.

you tried to brush it off when he came home late, exhaustion written all over his face. you told yourself it was nothing when his replies to your texts became shorter, more rushed. you didn’t say anything when he started canceling plans, apologizing with that boyish grin that always made your heart ache.

“next time, i promise,” he’d say, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before running off. and you’d nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, pretending it didn’t hurt as much as it did.

and then there was his social media—photos of him with his teammates, candid shots of him laughing, carefree and radiant. the way his smile stretched wide, his eyes crinkling at the corners. you double-tapped the pictures, your stomach twisting as you scrolled through them. it wasn’t jealousy that stung. it was the realization that he looked happier there, surrounded by them, than he did with you.

you stared at the pictures for too long some nights, tracing his smile with your thumb. “why don’t you smile like that with me anymore?” you whispered to the screen, your voice breaking.

one evening, as you sat across from him at dinner, you tried to bring it up. the words felt heavy on your tongue, but you pushed them out anyway.

“yeonjun,” you started softly, setting your fork down. “do you ever feel like... like we’re not the same anymore?”

he glanced up, startled. “what do you mean?”

“i mean... i don’t know. you just seem... different,” you said, your voice faltering. “like you’re happier when you’re not with me.”

his brows furrowed, and he reached for your hand across the table. “that’s not true,” he said firmly. “you know how much you mean to me.”

“do i?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

his grip on your hand tightened. “of course you do. babe, come on. i’m just... i’ve been busy, you know? with school and basketball. it’s a lot.”

“i know it is,” you said, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “but it feels like... like i’m not part of your life anymore. like i’m just... here.”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “that’s not fair. you know how much i’m trying.”

you bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears. “are you? because it doesn’t feel like it, yeonjun. it feels like you’re trying for everything else but us.”

his expression hardened, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “i’m doing my best, okay? what more do you want from me?”

“i want you,” you said, your voice cracking. “i want the yeonjun who used to light up when he saw me, who used to make me feel like i was his whole world. but now... now i just feel like i’m in the way.”

the silence that followed was deafening. he looked at you, his jaw tight, and you could see the conflict in his eyes.

“i don’t know what you want me to say,” he finally said, his voice quiet but strained.

“i don’t either,” you whispered, the tears spilling over now.

that night, you lay in bed, staring at the empty space beside you. yeonjun had fallen asleep on the couch, his face turned away from you. the ache in your chest was unbearable, a hollow, gnawing pain that refused to fade.

you thought about the boy who used to send you good morning texts before his eyes even opened, who used to surprise you with your favorite snacks and kiss you like he couldn’t get enough. where had he gone?

“when did we become like this?” you whispered into the darkness, but the silence offered no answers.

it happened on a whim. you’d planned to visit yeonjun at college, surprising him after weeks of missing each other. the idea had felt romantic in your head, like something out of a movie. you imagined his face lighting up, the way he’d pull you into his arms and kiss you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

but reality had other plans.

you arrived on campus in the late afternoon, nerves buzzing in your chest as you texted him.

“hey, surprise! i’m here. can’t wait to see you. where are you?”

the response didn’t come immediately. five minutes passed, then ten. your excitement began to waver, the anticipation souring into unease. finally, your phone buzzed.

“oh, you’re here? uh, i’m with the guys right now. can we meet up later?”

you stared at the screen, rereading the words until they blurred. the lump in your throat was sudden, sharp, and unyielding.

“sure,” you typed back, your fingers trembling. “later sounds good.”

you found a bench near the quad and sat down, watching groups of students walk past. they laughed, chattered, and moved with purpose. you felt like a ghost, sitting there in the middle of it all, invisible and out of place.

later turned out to be hours.

the sky had darkened by the time he finally texted again. “hey, done now. where are you?”

you forced a smile when you saw him approaching, his stride casual, his face devoid of the excitement you’d hoped for. he pulled you into a hug, but it was brief, his arms loosening too quickly.

“hey,” he said, his voice warm but distracted. “sorry about earlier. the guys wanted to hang out.”

“it’s fine,” you lied, trying to ignore the sting in your chest.

he offered to show you around campus, and you agreed, hoping it would salvage the visit. he walked you through the library, the basketball courts, his favorite spots. his words felt rehearsed, like he was giving a tour to a stranger.

“this is where we hang out after practice,” he said, gesturing toward a cluster of benches. “and over there’s the coffee shop. their caramel macchiato is insane.”

you nodded, laughing at his jokes, smiling at his stories. but it felt hollow. the natural rhythm between you—the effortless connection that used to make everything feel right—was gone.

you wanted to grab his hand, to tell him you missed him, to ask if he missed you too. but something held you back, a quiet voice in your head whispering, “don’t ruin it.”

the breaking point came as you walked through the quad. yeonjun’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out mid-conversation.

“sorry, it’s just the group chat,” he said, his eyes flicking to the screen. his fingers moved quickly, typing out a reply.

you watched as his face lit up, his smile brighter than it had been all evening.

“everything okay?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light.

“yeah,” he said, glancing up briefly before returning to his phone. “the guys are just making plans for tomorrow.”

“oh,” you said softly, the word barely audible.

he didn’t notice the way your shoulders slumped, the way your gaze dropped to the ground.

that night, as you both sat on the edge of his dorm bedcourt bench, you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“yeonjun,” you said, your voice trembling.

he looked up from his phone, startled by your tone. “yeah?”

“do you even want me here?” the words spilled out before you could stop them.

his eyes widened. “what? of course i do. why would you ask that?”

“because it doesn’t feel like it,” you said, your voice cracking. “i planned coming here to see you, and it feels like... like i’m just in the way.”

he frowned, setting his phone down. “babe, come on. you know that’s not true.”

“do i?” you shot back, tears welling up in your eyes. “because you’ve barely looked at me all night. you were more excited texting your friends than you were to see me.”

“that’s not fair,” he said, his tone defensive. “i’ve been busy, okay? college is a lot. basketball is a lot. i’m trying my best.”

“trying your best?” you repeated, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “yeonjun, you didn’t even know i was here until i texted you. and when i did, you made me wait for hours while you hung out with your friends.”

“what was i supposed to do? bail on them?” he asked, his voice rising.

“yes!” you shouted, the frustration and hurt boiling over. “just once, i wanted to feel like a priority. like i mattered more than your stupid group chat or your teammates or—or anything else in your life right now.”

his jaw tightened, and he looked away. “i don’t know what you want me to say.”

“i want you to say that you still love,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “because i don’t feel like you do, i can’t feel you anymore.”

he didn’t respond. the silence was deafening, a chasm opening up between you that felt impossible to cross.

you stood up, grabbing your bag. “i should go,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“wait,” he said, reaching for you. but his hand fell short, his hesitation palpable.

you looked at him one last time, searching his face for something—anything—that would make this hurt less. but all you saw was confusion and guilt.

“i’ll see you at home,” you said, walking out the court grounds before he could say anything else.

the tears didn’t fall until you were outside, the cold night air biting at your skin. you wiped at your cheeks, your heart shattering with every step you took away from him.

that night, he indeed came home. you lay on your side, back facing the door, pretending to be asleep. the sound of keys jingling outside made your heart sink, followed by the soft click of the door unlocking. his footsteps were uneven, heavy, the telltale signs of someone who had too much to drink.

you kept your breathing steady as he shuffled into the room, setting down his things with a clumsy thud. the bed dipped under his weight as he sat down beside you. the familiar scent of him was there—cologne, warmth—but it was drowned out by the sharp reek of alcohol.

you felt him hesitate, then slowly, carefully, he reached for you. his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer.

“i love you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your shoulder.

you bit your lip, fighting the tears already forming in your eyes.

“i love you,” he said again, this time pressing a kiss to the back of your head.

you stayed still, your heart aching with every word.

you knew what was coming next—he always wanted to see your face when he said it. you felt his hand gently nudge your shoulder, urging you to turn toward him. you closed your eyes tightly, pretending to be lost in sleep.

“i love you,” he said once more, this time kissing your forehead.

and then you felt it—a warm, wet drop landing on your cheek. it wasn’t yours.

he sniffed, the sound muffled but unmistakable.

“i’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “i’m so sorry.”

your chest tightened painfully, the urge to open your eyes and hold him overwhelming. but your mind held you back. you didn’t want to ruin the moment, didn’t want to face the reality that had been slowly unraveling between you.

you stayed like that, motionless, as his tears dampened your skin. his grip around you tightened as if he were holding on to the last shred of what you used to be.

and in that fragile, heart-wrenching silence, you made a wish—a desperate, aching hope—that tomorrow would be better.

but it wasn’t.

the next morning, you woke to the sound of his alarm blaring. he groaned, fumbling to silence it. for a brief moment, as he stirred beside you, you thought things might be different.

“morning,” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.

“morning,” you replied softly, forcing a smile.

he kissed your temple—a gesture that used to make your heart flutter. now, it felt routine, mechanical.

“i’ve got practice,” he said, already reaching for his phone.

“do you have time for breakfast?” you asked, hopeful.

he glanced at the screen, his brow furrowing. “sorry, no. i’m running late. i’ll grab something on the way.”

you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “okay.”

he left in a rush, leaving behind the faint scent of his cologne and an ache that refused to leave your chest.

days passed, and nothing changed. if anything, the distance grew wider.

he came home later and later, always with an excuse—practice ran long, group projects, a quick drink with the guys. you tried to be understanding, to hold on to the love you’d built together, but it felt like grasping at smoke.

it was your anniversary. three years together. you’d spent the day hoping—hoping that maybe he remembered, that he’d come home early with flowers like he used to, or text you something sweet and simple like “can’t wait to celebrate tonight.” but the hours dragged on, and with each passing minute, hope turned into a quiet ache.

you thought about the way it used to be. last year, he’d surprised you with a picnic under the stars, even though he hated the cold. he’d spent weeks planning it, down to the little thermos of hot cocoa and the playlist of your favorite songs. he’d held your hand, kissed you like the world was ending, and told you how lucky he felt to have you.

this year, there was nothing. no message, no plan. just the familiar sound of keys in the door around midnight.

when he stumbled in, the smell of alcohol hit you before you even saw him. he was drunk again.

“yeonjun,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside you.

he didn’t even look at you at first, too busy fumbling with his phone. when he finally glanced up, his expression was tired, almost annoyed. “yeah?”

“do you know what today is?” you asked, your heart pounding.

he frowned, clearly trying to think. “uh… thursday?”

you let out a bitter laugh, tears pricking at your eyes. “it’s our anniversary, yeonjun.”

his face fell, guilt flickering across his features. “shit, i—i’m sorry. i forgot. practice ran late, and then the guys—”

“don’t,” you cut him off, your voice trembling. “don’t give me excuses. just… don’t.”

he sighed, rubbing his temples. “look, i’ll make it up to you, okay? we can do something this weekend.”

“this weekend?” you repeated, your voice breaking. “do you even hear yourself? it’s like i’m not even a priority to you anymore.”

he set his phone down, finally looking at you fully. “what do you want me to say?”

“i want you to say that you still care,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “because it doesn’t feel like it. it feels like i’m just… here. like you’re living this whole other life without me, and i’m just waiting on the sidelines.”

“that’s not fair,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “you know how busy things have been. i’m doing my best.”

“your best?” you repeated, the words tasting bitter. “your best feels like nothing, yeonjun. i feel like nothing.”

his jaw tightened, and he looked away. “i don’t know what you want me to say.”

the silence that followed was unbearable. you grabbed your coat and headed for the door, your vision blurred with tears.

“where are you going?” he called after you, his voice laced with frustration.

“i need air,” you said without looking back.

outside, the cold air bit at your skin, but it wasn’t enough to numb the pain in your chest. you walked aimlessly, the weight of everything crashing down on you. it felt like the world was moving around you while you were stuck in the same moment, stuck in the same suffocating silence.

and then, as if the universe was mocking you, the rain started pouring.

“shit,” you muttered, pulling your coat tighter around you. you didn’t care that you were getting soaked; the rain was almost a relief, hiding the tears streaming down your face, hiding how broken you felt. you didn’t know where you were going or what you were doing. all you knew was that you couldn’t be inside with him anymore. you couldn’t keep pretending that everything was okay when it was slowly killing you from the inside out.

you didn’t hear the footsteps behind you until someone grabbed your arm, spinning you around.

“what the hell are you doing?” yeonjun’s voice was hoarse, his eyes red and swollen, his body shaking from the cold or maybe something deeper. it didn’t matter. all that mattered was that he was here, standing in front of you, but you couldn’t help feeling like you were still miles apart.

“what am i doing?” you shot back, your voice shaking with the weight of everything you’d been holding in. “what are you doing, yeonjun? because it feels like you’re not even here anymore.”

his grip on your arm loosened, and for a moment, he just stood there, rain dripping from his hair, his eyes too tired to be angry. “i’m trying,” he said finally, his voice cracking, raw with something you couldn’t name. “i’m trying so fucking hard, and it’s still not enough.”

“then tell me!” you cried, your hands trembling. “tell me what’s wrong because i’m so tired of feeling like i’m the only one fighting for this. i can’t keep doing this alone. i can’t keep pretending like i’m not suffocating.”

he swallowed hard, his eyes darting away from yours as if he couldn’t bear to face you. “i’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “i’m scared of losing you, of not being good enough for you. and i know i’m screwing it all up, but i don’t know how to fix it. i don’t know how to be what you need when i don’t even know what i need anymore.”

your heart shattered at his words, at the vulnerability in his voice that mirrored your own. “yeonjun…”

“i hate the team,” he said suddenly, his words tumbling out in a rush, as if he’d been holding them back for far too long. “i hate basketball, but it’s the only thing keeping me in school. if i quit, i lose my scholarship, and then what? and then there’s you—perfect, brilliant you. you deserve someone who has their shit together, not… not me. not someone who can barely keep their head above water.”

you blinked, the words hitting you like a physical blow. the rain was coming down harder now, but it didn't matter. the storm inside you was far worse. you opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. the weight of it all—the expectations, the fear, the silence between you two—felt too much to bear. your chest tightened, your hands still trembling, but you forced yourself to speak anyway.

“don’t you dare say that,” you said, voice low but fierce, despite the cracks that were starting to show. “you think you’re the only one who’s scared? you think you’re the only one who feels like they’re falling apart?”

yeonjun flinched at the intensity in your voice, but you couldn’t stop now. you couldn’t hold it in any longer. “i’m fucking terrified too, yeonjun. i’m so scared that i’m losing you, but it feels like i’m already too late. i’m already lost, and you’re so busy drowning in your own shit that you can’t even see me anymore. i’m not perfect, okay? i’m not perfect, and i don’t need you to be either.”

he looked at you, confusion flickering in his eyes. “but i’m not—i’m not good enough for you. i can’t even make this work. everything’s falling apart, and i don’t know how to fix it.”

“yeonjun, stop!” you snapped, taking a step forward, the distance between you two feeling both so close and impossibly far. “you’re not some fucking project. you’re not some puzzle that i need to fix. i never asked you to be perfect. i never asked you to be someone else. i just wanted you. but right now, i don’t even know who the hell you are anymore.”

the words were out before you could stop them, and you immediately regretted it. the hurt on his face was too much, and for a second, you thought you might break. but then he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“i don’t know who i am either,” he said, his words so raw they almost cut through you. “i don’t know who i am without basketball, without the team, without the scholarship. i don’t know who i am without you, without this... us. but it’s like i’m losing everything. everything’s slipping through my fingers, and i can’t keep pretending like i’ve got it all together when i’m barely holding on.”

the pain in his voice mirrored your own, and it was too much. too much to hear, too much to process. you wanted to scream, to break down, but instead, you took a deep breath and steadied yourself. you didn’t know what you were fighting for anymore. you didn’t know if this love, this relationship, was even enough to save either of you.

“i can’t do this anymore, yeonjun,” you said, your voice quieter now, broken and defeated. “i can’t keep waiting for you to see me. i can’t keep waiting for you to choose me. it’s killing me. it’s killing me, and i’m not sure how much longer i can take it.”

he stepped forward then, his eyes pleading, his hand reaching out as if he wanted to touch you, but he hesitated. “please, don’t say that,” he begged, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. “please, don’t leave me. i don’t know what i’m doing, but i swear to god, i’m trying. i’m trying to be what you need, but i don’t know how. i don’t know what the hell i’m doing, but i swear to you, i’m not trying to hurt you. i’m not trying to push you away.”

you took a step back, the pain in your chest tightening like a vice. “you don’t have to try, yeonjun. you don’t have to be perfect. you don’t have to be someone you’re not. i just need you to see me. to fucking see me, for once. but you’re too busy chasing this thing that doesn’t even matter. and i’m standing here, falling apart, and you can’t even hear me.”

the silence that followed felt suffocating, the tension hanging between you like a thick fog that neither of you could cut through. yeonjun’s eyes were wide, and for a moment, you thought he might say something, anything to make it better, but he just stood there, trembling, as the rain continued to pour.

finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t want to lose you. i don’t want to lose us.”

“but we’re already lost, yeonjun,” you said, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them. “we’re already lost. and i don’t know how to find my way back to you. i don’t even know if i can anymore.”

his eyes widened in shock, his lips parting as if he was about to say something, but no words came. instead, he just stood there, the rain soaking through his clothes, his face pale and lost. and for a moment, you both just stood there, drowning in the silence, unable to find a way back to each other.

the apartment was eerily silent, the kind of silence that made your chest ache. the hum of the refrigerator was the only sound that kept the emptiness from swallowing you whole. you stood in the doorway, dripping wet, your clothes clinging to your skin, the cold biting into you like a punishment. you didn’t know why you came back here—maybe it was muscle memory, or maybe it was that small, pathetic part of you that still believed he’d come back.

you curled up on the couch, your body trembling as exhaustion seeped into your bones. your eyes stung, but no tears came. you’d cried too much already, screamed into the rain until your throat was raw. now, all that was left was the heavy weight in your chest, pressing down, suffocating. you closed your eyes, willing yourself to forget, to sleep, but the ache refused to leave.

yeonjun came home that night. it was late, far later than he should have been out, but that was who he had become—always running, always avoiding the things that mattered. he stepped inside, the click of the door barely audible in the suffocating stillness. his head hung low, his steps hesitant, like he already knew what awaited him.

and then he saw you.

you were still in the same clothes you’d worn in the rain, your body curled into the corner of the couch like you were trying to disappear. your hair was a damp mess, your face pale and tired even in sleep. his breath hitched, and for the first time in what felt like years, he broke.

tears spilled down his face before he could stop them, hot and relentless. his knees buckled, and he sank to the floor beside you, his hands trembling as they hovered over you, unsure if he even had the right to touch you anymore.

you had waited.

he didn’t deserve this. he didn’t deserve you.

“i’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice barely a whisper, broken and raw. “god, i’m so sorry.”

his fingers brushed against your cheek, pushing damp strands of hair away from your face. you stirred but didn’t wake, your breathing soft and steady. he wished he could freeze this moment, hold onto it forever, because he knew it was slipping through his fingers like sand.

he gathered you into his arms, cradling you as if you might shatter. you felt so small, so fragile, and it killed him to think he had been the one to make you this way. he carried you to the bathroom, his steps careful and deliberate, like he was afraid the weight of his guilt might crush you.

he ran the bath, the water warm and soothing, and gently began to clean the remnants of the storm from your skin. his hands moved with a tenderness that made his chest ache, his mind replaying memories he hadn’t dared to touch in so long—the first time he’d held your hand.

he remembered the way you’d laughed at his stupid jokes in high school, the way your eyes sparkled with excitement when you talked about your future. he remembered how you used to hold his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, how you’d believed in him even when he couldn’t believe in himself. somewhere along the way, he had lost that version of himself, and in doing so, he had lost you too.

and now, here you were, and he didn’t know how to fix what he’d broken.

he dressed you in clean clothes, his hands careful as if you were made of glass. he tucked you into bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin, and sat beside you, his gaze fixed on your face.

the moonlight spilled through the window, casting a pale glow over the room. it illuminated the tear tracks on his face, the hollow look in his eyes. he sat there for hours, his thoughts a storm he couldn’t quiet.

he thought about the person he had become—the way college and the weight of adulthood had twisted him into someone unrecognizable. he thought about how he had pushed you away, how he had let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers.

and he realized, with a clarity that cut deeper than any pain he’d ever felt, that he couldn’t keep doing this.

he couldn’t keep dragging you down with him.

you deserved better.

you deserved someone who could love you the way you deserved to be loved—freely, fully, without the weight of their own broken pieces. and he wasn’t that person, not anymore.

he sat there until the first rays of sunlight crept through the window, painting the room in soft hues of gold. and then, with a heavy heart, he stood, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“i love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “and i’m so sorry that wasn’t enough.”

by morning, the bed beside you was empty. the hollow ache in your chest returned as you reached out instinctively, only to feel the cold, unwelcoming sheets beneath your fingertips. the room felt colder than it should have, the silence pressing against you like a second skin.

you lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince yourself that he was still here, that maybe he’d just stepped out for a moment. but deep down, you already knew. the absence was too loud, too final.

you stumbled out of the room, your legs heavy and unsteady, your heart pounding with a mixture of dread and disbelief. the faint smell of breakfast wafted through the air, a cruel reminder of normalcy. your feet carried you to the kitchen, where soobin stood at the stove, his back to you.

he glanced over his shoulder when he heard you enter, his expression softening with something that felt like pity, and it made your stomach churn. “yeonjun already left,” he said quietly, his voice gentle, as if trying not to shatter you.

your heart sank, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “to where?” you asked, your voice small, barely audible.

“he said he’s going home for a while,” soobin replied, turning back to the pan in front of him. his tone was calm, but there was an edge of frustration beneath it, like he didn’t fully understand yeonjun’s decision either.

“what about college?” you pressed, the desperation in your voice growing louder, more tangible.

soobin hesitated for a moment before shrugging, his shoulders rising and falling in a gesture that felt like resignation. “he didn’t say anything about it.”

you stood there, frozen, the weight of yeonjun’s absence pressing down on you like a physical force. your chest felt tight, your breaths shallow, and for a moment, you thought you might collapse under the weight of it all.

without another word, you turned and walked back to the bedroom, your footsteps heavy, your shoulders slumped in defeat. the door clicked softly behind you, and you sank onto the edge of the bed, your hands gripping the blanket as if it could somehow ground you.

your gaze wandered aimlessly, and that’s when you saw it—a folded piece of paper resting on his bedside table, almost as if it had been left there deliberately. your heart skipped a beat, a flicker of hope igniting in your chest despite everything.

with trembling hands, you reached for the note, your fingers brushing against the edges of the paper as you unfolded it slowly, as if you were afraid the words inside might break you.

the handwriting was unmistakably his—messy and rushed, the ink smudged in places, as if he’d been in a hurry or had second-guessed himself while writing. your eyes scanned the first few lines, and your heart clenched painfully.

my love,

i don’t even know where to begin. writing this feels like the hardest thing i’ve ever had to do, but i owe you the truth, even if it’s long overdue.

i’ve been failing—not just myself, but you. i see it in your eyes, in the way your smile doesn’t reach them anymore. and i hate myself for being the reason why.

do you remember when we were in high school? when everything felt so simple, and all i wanted was to make you laugh? back then, i thought i could be someone worthy of you. but somewhere along the way, i lost that part of me. the weight of expectations, the pressure of being enough—it’s crushed me, and i let it pull us both under.

i’ve been selfish, holding onto you when i knew i was hurting you. you deserved someone who could stand by you, someone who could be your anchor, and instead, i became the storm.

i’m sorry. for all the times i wasn’t there when you needed me. for the nights you cried yourself to sleep while i was too lost in my own struggles to notice. for losing sight of the person i wanted to be for you.

i don’t know how to fix this, but i know i need to start with myself. i need to figure out who i am, to rebuild the pieces of me that have fallen apart. and i can’t do that while dragging you down with me.

so i’m leaving—for now. i don’t know how long it’ll take, but i promise i’ll come back when i’m ready. when i can be someone you deserve, someone who can stand beside you without making you carry my burdens.

if you’ll still have me when that time comes, i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. but if you’ve moved on, if you’ve found the happiness i couldn’t give you, i’ll understand. all i want is for you to be happy, even if it’s not with me.

i love you, more than words can say. and i’m sorry that my love wasn’t enough to keep us whole.

forever yours,

yeonjun

the letter slipped from your trembling hands, fluttering to the floor like the weight of your heart. you sat there, staring at the words, letting them carve deep into the fragile spaces of your soul. his voice lingered in your mind, echoing in the quiet of the apartment, every word a wound, every line a bittersweet caress.

you should’ve felt angry. you should’ve screamed, cried, broken something. but all you could do was sit there, the emptiness swallowing you whole. you traced the memory of his voice in your head, the way he used to call your name like it was something sacred.

soobin knocked lightly on the doorframe, pulling you out of the spiral. “are you okay?” his voice was soft, cautious, like he was afraid you might shatter.

you nodded weakly, though your chest ached with the weight of a thousand unspoken words. “i just... i need a moment.”

he hesitated but nodded, leaving you alone with the silence.

hours passed, or maybe just minutes—you couldn’t tell anymore. eventually, you stood, pulling on a jacket before grabbing the letter and folding it carefully, tucking it into your pocket like it was the last piece of him you had.

the air outside was cold, biting at your skin as you walked aimlessly. you ended up at the park you used to visit together, the one where he’d pull you onto the swings and push you higher until you screamed at him to stop, laughing through the fear.

you sat on one of the swings, gripping the cold metal chains. the wind whispered through the trees, carrying fragments of memories you couldn’t hold onto anymore.

for the first time, you let yourself cry. not the quiet tears you’d hidden from him late at night, but the kind of sobs that shook your whole body, the kind that left you gasping for air. you cried for the boy who had once been your world, for the man he had become, for the pieces of yourself you had lost in loving him.

when the tears finally stopped, you looked up at the sky, the stars shimmering faintly through the clouds. you took a deep breath, feeling the cold air fill your lungs, and for the first time in a long time, it felt like you could breathe again.

you pulled the letter from your pocket, smoothing the creases with gentle fingers. you read it once more, the words less sharp now, softened by the tears that blurred your vision.

he wasn’t coming back—not yet, and maybe not ever. but you couldn’t let your life remain frozen in this moment, in this grief.

you stood from the swing, the letter still clutched in your hand, and walked away from the park. each step felt lighter than the last, as if you were shedding the weight of what could’ve been.

you didn’t know what the future held, but for now, you had yourself. and that was enough.

gyo's note: hi, loves! it’s been a while since i’ve written something like this, and honestly, it feels so personal, at least for me, because i had experienced a lot like them, where i eventually lost him in the process, and i had to actually stop writing from time to time because it gets the better of my emotion (literally cried writing this piece). this story came to me during one of those late-night overthinking sessions (you know the ones). thank you for reading and for always supporting me—it means the world. i’m also working on finishing alumni homecoming kai, and planning on posting my first series for beomgyu! but will probably stick to posting some of my pending drafts i’m not sure, but stay tuned for those! if you made it to this part, thank you so much! you will be loved. xoxo

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