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usedpidemo · 3 days ago

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Cherry ((G)I-dle Minnie)

For you, nothing compares to seeing your favorite artist live, doing what they love the most.

For Minnie, nothing compares to the continued echo of a roaring crowd screaming her name.

But when it’s all said and done, nothing compares to the sound of her one and only fan shouting her name while he’s giving every last inch into her.

—————

Checking your phone, you see the posts on social media. While everyone else is still inside that stadium, Minnie is nowhere to be found, disappearing right after her 30 minute set, no-showing the arbitrary farewell walk around to the fans. Not that everyone cares or will give her heat for her sudden absence, but her presence leaves quite a noticeable hole in the venue.

Judging by how she’s opening the door to her hotel room, you can guess as to where she’s gone.

Looking through your recorded footage, her eyes kept a steady track on you, as if she personally singled you out. Giving you flirty winks, subtle flying kisses in your direction, smiling at you even as she hosts the rest of the audience between transitions—the signs were there all along. You were caught up in the moment of her performance to properly notice.

That, and your intrusive handmade banner is quite easy for her to notice.

Speaking of—Minnie’s been holding your banner the entire ride back, finally setting it aside on the dining table. With every glance at your simple ‘I love you’ message, her gummy smile only widens. It’s heartwarming to see your effort be rewarded in quite the grandiose manner. A simple acknowledgement would have been enough—a simple heart, a wave, a general glance in your direction, anything.

You never expected to share a ride back to her hotel before she personally guided you inside her personal place.

She always points out how cute your handwriting is. That you went out of your way to write in Thai, even if it's evidently using Google Translate, saying that she’ll keep it in her place in appreciation.

And so, you have to address the elephant in the room:

“Why me?” you ask, as your gaze wanders around her hotel room, quite simple in design and only meant for simple overnight stays. You can see the venue you were in minutes ago from the large window, a lifetime away thanks to the nighttime traffic.

“Because I saw it!” Minnie replies, grinning, falling into her usual idol posture like muscle memory. Hands folded together, classy, even if her still-worn stage outfit says otherwise. Casually flaunting off her tight figure and toned little belly just for you. It’s hypnotic. “Flew in from far away just to see me perform here? You’re committed.”

“I mean—you haven’t performed in my country in years,” you remark, bitter at the thought. One of your driving motivations is to at least see her if the worst happened. Fortunately, they’re here to stay a little longer. Nevertheless, your patience was far past its breaking point, and you had to take matters into your own hands. “You have no idea how long I waited for you to come back.”

Minnie frowns, apologetic and empathetic over your plight. “Sorry. We want to reach out and perform everywhere, but—”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve heard it all the time, no need to remind me,” you interrupt, unwilling to hear the same rote excuse for the umpteenth time. Of course it’s the company’s fault, and not you for living in an unprofitable market for international artists to perform. “But that doesn’t matter now. If you ever go and tour, I’ll try flying out here again, like I did just for you.”

Almost immediately, her downcast expression shifts into a look of joy. “Aw. I hope it doesn’t mean you’re going broke for us. It’s not worth it.”

“Of course not,” is your reply, as if you anticipated this exact response. “I wouldn’t even think about going on this trip if I knew I’d be eating cup noodles for the next month.”

“Sounds fun,” Minnie jests, approaching you and brushing loose strands of your hair covering your forehead. Cupping a hand on your cheek, she whispers against your other cheek, her breath hot: “I’ll pay for whatever you need. Flight tickets, hotel accommodation, transportation—name it and I got you covered.”

“Everything’s been accounted for, but I appreciate the thought,” you remark, your eyes following hers. Staring into each other’s gaze intently, her warmth and sincerity in full bloom, you’re falling deeper in love with her. “I—I just didn’t think this would ever happen.”

“No one does,” is her remark, tone sensual, pulling your head closer against hers. “Now I want to ask you a question, and I want you to be honest with me.”

“Of course.”

Her breath tickles your ear, sending chills down your spine. “What’s your favorite song I did tonight?”

You pause, give her a subtle smile, which she immediately reads. Like she already has a clue.

“I think you already know the answer.”

She breathes against your skin in the shape of a chuckle and a smirk. The song begins to play moments later, courtesy of her own phone.

Minnie quietly mouths the lyrics in your ear, and you can’t help but lean closer to get a feel of her lips kissing your skin. You sense the ripple of her waist against yours, a gentle rustle of her shrinking skirt. You engross yourself in the moment that you don’t notice her hands dragging you with her in the direction of the living room couch.

Pushing you onto the sofa right as the second line hits, Minnie continues mouthing the words to her own song effortlessly, dancing before you so sexily knowing she’d never try on stage in a million years, even with their group’s more risque concepts. Her eyes demand every bit of your attention—not that you had anything else in mind but her.

A private performance, meant only for you. Turning her hotel room into a club, you’d be throwing what little money you have for her if you had anything left.

And by God, she loves it. Relishing how whipped you are for her. Doesn’t matter if it’s one or thousands, she lives for the attention and praise.

As the chorus hits, Minnie drops to the floor, stomach down ass up, kicking her heels up in the air, her stare remaining fixated at you all throughout. Rehearsed and practiced, yet looking so natural. You can only watch in awe, wondering how long she’s been waiting for the opportunity, how many times she’s done this before to others, and how the stars perfectly aligned for you to have this personalized moment.

It’s torturing you right now that you can’t reach out and touch her, even if you wanted to.

Picking herself off the floor, she saunters toward you, your nerves tensing with every moment, every step forward. Fingers digging deeper into the fabric of your pants, it’s all purposeful how she moves: every sway of her hips, her hands running down her svelte figure, the twirl when she’s standing right between your legs, flaunting her petite ass peeking through her skirt before squatting down in front of you, an arm’s reach away.

The lyrics perfectly describe the situation:

“Oh no, here we go. Watch me shake it low.”

It’s like she’s daring you to take her and make her yours.

Her ass lingers far longer than what you can perceive. No matter how desperate you are, you can’t bring yourself to move a muscle, do anything but admire and watch helplessly even as Minnie offers herself to you on a silver platter. Not for lack of trying; your mind can’t handle what’s happening right now.

She looks over shoulder with a wicked grin, as if this isn’t the first time she’s left someone victimized with her deliberate teasing.

As if that wasn’t enough, when she spins around to face you, she drags your hands off your pants, replacing them with her own. Leaning forward, her hot breath reacquainting with your skin, followed by the faintest of air kisses. Slowly but surely, she clambers onto your lap, creating unbearable heat between your legs.

There’s no denying it now.

Instinctively, your hands find purchase on her ass, squeezing them hard, drawing a moan out of her. Minnie responds in kind, rolling her head back, grinding her hips on your lap, fanning the flames. Her tummy right in your face, you bend forward and kiss her, tracing a path up to her crop top, resting between her chest. Her fingers find their way around your neck, inching herself closer to you till you can hardly breathe.

“Fuck, it’s been a while since I’ve gotten to do this,” she sighs, breaking herself free from the immersion of her own performance. Glancing down to find your face between her bra, she pulls on your face, drawing your gaze to meet hers. “Like what you see?”

“Fuck yes, I do,” you huff, returning to kiss her bra. “But I’ve got a feeling this wasn’t the first time.”

Minnie laughs. “No shit.”

“Just you, or do the others—”

“You already know,” she interrupts, cupping your chin and redirecting your eyes back on her, shutting you up. “Now can we go back to the moment?”

Without another word, she leans down and meets you for a passionate kiss. Eyes closed, letting your feelings do all the talking. At that moment, you’re not fan and idol, but two lovers finding solace in each other’s arms. The only break is when she pulls back to lift your shirt over your head before you’re passionately making out to her own song again.

She doesn’t even bring up the fact that your hands have been on her ass the whole time. If anything, with every squeeze, she moans softly into your mouth, making music.

But you can’t stay like this for long. Not when you’re both close to reaching your natural climax.

Breaking off the kiss for a second time, Miinie takes a moment to admire you, smiling. Her face, flushed with crimson and lust, keeps you in place while she silently unhooks her top, slipping it off her shoulders before tossing it to the floor and joining your shirt.

Before she tries to kiss you again, the sudden music stoppage snaps both your attention.

“Ah, fuck me,” Minnie whines, quickly climbing off your lap to reach for the phone on the other side of the living room, buzzing loudly as she races to shut it down as quickly as possible. Giving you a proper look at her half-naked body while she hurriedly mashes buttons on her screen, you’re imagining that’s what she normally looks like in the mornings.

“Well tell them I felt nauseous and had to rush to the hospital,” she says while clicking her tongue seemingly giving instructions to someone over the phone. When her eyes find yours, she grins cheekily, playing off the situation as nothing but a minor inconvenience. “No one’s gonna find out, surely.”

Like you weren’t casually singled out by staff, escorted out of the venue and riding inside one of the artist’s cars before being told to wait inside for a good 30 minutes before you could finally get out. Under any other context, this would have been a kidnapping case.

“Just give them the usual statement,” she whines, annoyed that she’s getting calls at such an unfortunate time. “I did my set, no? That should be enough. No one’s gonna care by tomorrow,” she adds, before cutting the call and the music picks up where it left off.

“Sorry you had to hear all that.” Minnie sighs as she casually lets her skirt fall to the floor, leaving her in only underwear as she saunters back to you. “I probably should have listened when they said this wasn’t a solo concert.”

To save her from further embarrassment, you remain quiet, but your face can’t hide your amusement watching it unfold in real time. One way or another, you’ll never look at her the same way again.

“Gosh, I gotta ask Yuqi how she does it,” she huffs, setting down her phone on the living room table. “Anyway, where were we?”

You don’t know exactly how to respond, nor do you have the answer to her question. And yet you have an idea as to where this is gonna end.

—————

The song continues to play on loop in the background as Minnie guides you to the bedroom, hand in tow, skirt lost somewhere on the living room floor, before falling onto the bed belly first, spreading her legs wide and baring her holes for display. Showing her pussy to you, she is wet and leaking.

“Fucking use me,” she huffs, looking over her shoulder, voice raspy, losing herself to her most feral desires. “I know you want this as much as I want it.”

“Fuck, Minnie, I—” Not even your half-assed attempt at reluctance stops you from unraveling with her; it’s laughably unconvincing. Lining your erect cock against her aching core, drawing a prolonged whine from her needy lips, her passionate sigh makes you shiver in anticipation. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You wouldn’t be positioning yourself behind me if you didn’t,” she remarks, pointing a finger toward your cock. “And that thing wanted me the moment I climbed onto your lap.”

She’d plunge your cock straight into her needy cunt if she could.

Instead, she reaches for the tip, gives it a gentle flick, causing your breaths to go haywire. Sparking a fire within you, Minnie only has one purpose in mind: to set you ablaze. You see it in her inviting smile—her eyes—drawing her fingers back, daring you to finish what she started.

Plunging into her cunt without hesitation, Minnie’s cry of pain and pleasure immediately fills the room and beyond. Obscene, obnoxious, you’re making a statement to everyone that you’re gonna fuck her—hard.

Fingers clamped on the headrest, and then onto the pillow, hanging on for dear life. Her muscles tensing and her hips bucking against yours. All while you’re still trying to adjust inside her; you haven’t moved a muscle since entering her. The only thought permeating your mind is how goddamn tight she feels around you.

The idea of unloading everything into her right then and there floats around your mind, but you begin dragging your cock out, now lathered in sheen and slick, before pushing back into her invigorating heat.

And fuck, Minnie takes every inch effortlessly. Letting you take charge, giving you free reign over her body. With every stroke, every thrust deeper, she fucking screams. Doesn’t matter that you’re leaving gaping imprints on her skin or that you’re hammering into her with reckless abandon, she only cares about the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her veins.

Like a man possessed, you’re throwing your all into her, pounding her balls deep like your life depends on it, like this is your one and only chance—which it may as well be.

“So incredible—can’t believe you’re letting me do this—” you rasp, pumping into her so hard the bed begins to quake. Both your hands rest on her svelte waist, wrapped like a vice as you deliver one devastating stroke after another. You can only imagine how she looks, but you get a sense that it’s pornographic and salacious.

“It’s been so long—” she whines, her voice cracking and jumping with every word in response to your thrusts. Her own fingers are gripped to the pillows, lifting her head to keep herself loud and clear, like she isn’t making quite the commotion this late at night. “So goddamn big—oh fuck—more—”

With her ass bouncing and rippling with each thrust, you’re left in a state of trance. God, she looks so good with your cock impaled in her pussy, with cum leaking and dripping from her holes. Accompanied by the filthy sounds of flesh slapping flesh, there’s no better sight for your dizzy, tired eyes. It only serves to spur you on, to keep you moving—as if you need any more motivation.

Giving her no respite, maintaining quite the chokehold you have on her, you lean forward against her ear, and your erratic breaths—your little vibrations—sends her into upper heaven. You haven’t uttered a single word, yet your looming presence drives her crazy.

“Pull on it, baby. Please—” Minnie cries, pertaining to her hair, barely held together by a loosened tie and prayers.

As much as you want to say anything back, the vice grip she has on you is just as strong, if not stronger. So intoxicatingly tight, gathering your thoughts into something coherent proves to be an immense struggle. It gets to a point where you don’t know who’s truly in control here.

And seeing as you’re doing exactly that—pulling on her hair as you kiss the helix of her ear, unable to keep up with her tempo—you sense the end is coming. And fast.

Still, there’s no relenting. She feels too good to slow down for even a moment, fearing that if you do, this unreal bliss is lost forever. So you hold on, redirecting all your focus on everything else about her body: exploring her back, lifting her on her fours, twisting her body in your hands—anything to keep your mind off the idea that you’re falling apart.

Your unrelenting pace supersedes every effort you’re making. It’s a relief that Minnie is fucked beyond coherence right now, losing herself in her own ecstasy. Nevertheless, you’re mentally counting down the little time you have left.

“Almost, Minnie—” you coo into her neck, rolling her on her side, lifting her helpless figure, squeezing on her breast. Fighting with the dying remains of your resolve to keep the fire alive before it fans out, Minnie looks absolutely drained, her body pushed far beyond its limit. “I’m so close—”

“Inside—” she barely manages to whine, palming your back, pulling you into a warm embrace, unwilling to accept any other outcome. Eyes completely shut, just letting pleasure freely flow in and out of her veins, rolling her hips up as you thrust into her, your grip on reality collapsing in real time. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna—”

Her voice goes high, breaks her train of thought as you sense her crumble underneath you, her climax hitting at the apex. The heat of her walls suffocating, putting you in an inescapable chokehold, her legs wrapping around yours—the intention is clear: you’re gonna stay there, cum inside, and lay it all on her.

It’s only right that your own orgasm follows.

Holding her through your own end, every second an eternity in itself, as you bury yourself balls deep, letting Minnie milk you for all your worth. Shuddering as your bodies intertwine as one, bracing as every spurt of cum you give her with hits with the same level of impact as the previous burst, like fireworks exploding. Can’t make out a clear visual as your vision goes blurry, so you take solace in her arms as the pulse in your loins gradually dies.

Until the only thing you can hear is each other’s heartbeats.

Minnie’s a delicate treasure, one of one. Despite fucking her into shreds mere moments ago, you can’t go out like this: pressing your weight on her, dangerously close to passing out under the afterglow of your own orgasm.

Fortunately, Minnie sees the scene differently, smiling: “Wow.”

She’s roaming her hands down your arms, warily glancing at the aftermath between your legs. A fresh puddle has formed on the sheets, now stained beyond repair. “That’s—a lot more than I thought,” she remarks, laughing at herself.

“That’s what you do to me,” you say, brushing her hair side, softly kissing her. As you try to pull back, Minnie sinks further, keeping your lips locked a few more precious moments longer.

You need to take a breather; blink a few times to let everything sink in: that she’s the one who made the advance. Every single opportunity.

And as the mood slowly dies, as both of you stare into each other’s eyes, uncertain of what happens now, her phone rings loudly in the background again.

You give her this look, as if to say: ‘Seriously? In this ungodly hour?’ To which Minnie merely smirks before rolling out of bed. As if this was expected. Hell, she looks surprised that it didn’t happen mid-climax.

Limping out of the bedroom, making a strong case not to fly out tomorrow, even though she won’t have activities for the next few days. Learning from earlier, she hides herself out away from your view before she returns with her phone in hand, throwing it right in your direction, falling short of landing on your face.

“Not this time,” she remarks, wagging her finger, reading your mind. “And for the record, they completely bought it.”

You can only laugh and shrug as Minnie climbs onto your lap, falling into your arms. —————

(A/N: Kind of a quick one, apologies, not really much time to write filth when you're almost graduating. Currently stuck in thesis hell with only a few weeks left before the semester ends, so please bear with me a bit longer. A few months into 2025 and Blind Eyes Red is still one of my favorite K-pop songs released so far, who knew the lyrics were horny as fuck? That made the rest of the idea a lot simpler. Thank you for reading!)

#kpop smut #smut #gidle smut #minnie #nicha yontararak

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iamthatonefangirl · 3 days ago

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weak - nsfw fatws bucky barnes

my love @starfly-nicole inspired me to write this one based on this post. I am so sorry it took me forever to get to

~~~

you couldn't really help but stare.

you were washing your face, going about your morning routine, glancing over at him as he applied shaving cream to his face.

it's stupid, really.

but you're weak at the knees for him, and you're okay with that fact.

so you kept looking over at him as he carefully dragged the razor over his skin, trying your best to finish applying your makeup without issue.

you made eye contact in the mirror, and he smirked at you. when he looked at your reflection a few more times, following the direction of your gaze, he caught on.

"something bothering you, doll?" he smirks.

"nope," you say, not listening much to him as you focus on applying your mascara.

"you sure?" he pokes, dragging out the words as he turns to face you. you shrug your shoulders, glance down at his hands once more, before moving to your other eye.

you should have seen him come up in the reflection behind you, but you were too focused on not screwing up your makeup. you startled when his hands came to your hips, and you felt his warm breath on your neck. you grumbled at the fact that you've now smeared mascara on your skin, but your thoughts are overtaken by his voice in your ear.

"I don't believe you," he whispers before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, shrugging your hair over your other shoulder.

you're hesitant. you don't have time for this, you have somewhere to be, and yet–

you're weak. you need it, and you need it now.

"tell me, sweetheart," he coos, bringing his right hand down from your hip, meeting the skin of your leg, and brushing up under your skirt. "tell me what you're thinking."

it's kind of embarrassing to admit, you think. you hesitate.

"can't give you what you need if you don't tell me," he whispers, breath still warm against your ear.

you shut your eyes and lean your head against his.

"your hands," you tell him. your eyes are closed, not looking at his reflection, but you can just feel the way he smirks, pleased with himself.

"yeah? what about them?" he says, and nips at the patch of skin on your neck.

"need to feel them," you tell him, turning your body to face his and reaching for his hands. your eyes have glazed over, and you immediately notice the way his pupils have blown back.

you drag his fingers over your skin, pushing his left hand up under your shirt and dipping his fingers under the band of your bra, cold metal against your flesh. you bring his other hand to your face, resting his palm on your cheek before turning your face to the side to press a kiss to it.

his hand under your shirt begins to move of its own accord, reaching back to unhook your bra so he can touch you as he pleases. you get lost in the feeling of his hand on your face, bringing it to your lips to kiss his knuckles.

he's got those beautiful veins that just make you so feral. you can't help but kiss every single one of them.

your favorite of them all? that one vein that runs up his forearm and all the way to his bicep. if you weren't so desperate and turned on right now, you might be embarrassed at the way you press your tongue to it where it begins at his hand, following it all the way up to where it's no longer bulging from under his skin.

"fuck, all this because–"

"shut up," you interrupt, "please."

you feel his vibranium fingers pinching at your nipple then, and you let out a muffled whine, encouraging him to keep going.

"need my hands all over you, babygirl, I know you do," he says, bringing his other hand to the back of your thigh and back to its rightful place under your skirt. he massages your plush skin, digging his fingers in just enough to make you moan for him.

"so pretty, baby," he tells you as his beautiful hands grace your skin.

you open your eyes to look at him, a small pout on your lips. with both your hands, you capture his hand on your ass and bring it to cup you over the fabric of your underwear, making your eyes shut once more while you sharply inhale at the feeling.

"so wet, you've soaked through your panties. is this all for me, babydoll? hmm?"

"yes," you answer, slowly dragging your hips over his hand, now pressed firmly up against you.

"such a good girl. gonna grind up against my hand like this until you come for me, doll, aren't you?"

his words reverberate through your head, making you feel so fuzzy.

"answer me. you'll take anything if it means you get to have that sweet release, won't you? even rutting up against my hand like this, huh?"

"yes," you cry, on the edge already, so soon, too fucking soon.

your face has to be red, eyes cinched shut in embarrassment. something about the way his words sound, making you feel so humiliated drags you to the brink so easily. you're mortified at how fucking easy it is for him to barely do anything, and you're already a mess.

his other hand comes to the back of your head, gently cradling you as he steps even closer to you. his hand between your legs applies a little more pressure, and,

"beg for it," he commands.

"please," you whisper. he shakes his head.

"beg like you mean it. I know you're getting off on this, don't deny it. come on. beg me to make you come like this," he orders, seemingly mocking you.

the words come pouring out of your mouth without another thought. "please, James, please. I need it so bad, please," you cry.

"good girl," he says, crooking his hand just right, and you're falling apart, riding it out as his hand holds firm against you.

your head gently falls to his chest while he strokes your hair as you fight to calm your breathing.

you look up at him after a minute, blushing at what just happened.

"you really need to fix your mascara now, doll," he teases, "don't need anyone else to see you pretty you look all messy for me."

~~~

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havecouraqe · 3 days ago

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Reconnection

Pairing: Go Hyuntak x fem!reader

Summary: Having known of Hyuntak from his training days of Tae Kwon Do, you never thought you'd run into him again. What started as admiration from afar quickly turned into the beginning of something more.

Word count: 1.7K

Warning: Slight trigger warning of SA if you squint, but other than that, none.

A/N: Wrote this for me. My first fanfic in years, and God, it felt good to write again. I'm happy with it.

Go Hyuntak was someone you've never imagined crossing paths with again. Attending different schools. Having different friend groups. Only ever catching glimpses of him from the window when you would walk past Hu-min's father's chicken restaurant across the street on the way home. Sometimes, it was hard not to notice the bruises and wounds he and his friends bore. You began to wonder if he's still as skilled in Tae Kwon Do as you remember. Of course he is. You shook your head. He was the best.

Rumor had it he hurt his knee and couldn't compete anymore. When you heard, you felt devastated. Someone as talented and hardworking as him, only for his dream to be taken away. It wasn't fair. You could only imagine how he felt. Did he suffer through the pain alone? Does he still think about what could have been? To be the best Tae Kwon Do athlete and have it all?

You'll never know. But from where you stood, the injury doesn't stop him from fighting. From protecting his friends. The five young men laughed at a joke Baku made and then dug in at the feast placed before them. Hyuntak's smile still dazzled you, even from a distance. As you start to worry whether he is taking care of his injuries properly, you hear your name being called.

"y/n!"

You turned and quickly rejoined your friends who had walked further ahead.

"Staring at Gotak again?" One of them teased, using his well-known nickname. Your face instantly blushed, and you looked away, unable to deny it.

"Hey, leave her alone. I think it's cute," your best friend piped up, putting an arm over your shoulder. "There's nothing wrong with a little yearning every now and then."

That made you laugh, "Shut up." You both giggled and continued going about your way.

After you said goodbye to your friends, you decided to stop by a convenience store before finishing your walk home. You were thirsty and wanted your favorite cold drink: a strawberry and banana smoothie. It was probably the best part of your routine. You grabbed your favorite bread to go along with it and headed for the register.

You thanked the cashier and just stabbed your straw into the drink when a rowdy group of boys walked in. They were a noisy bunch, and their uniforms told you they also attended Eunjang High, the same school as Hyuntak and his friends. Your eyes scanned the store, looking for a way to exit without having to go through them. Luckily, the aisle that was next over was free, and you kept your head down, making your way to the door. Due to your short stature, you didn't have to crouch much, being 5'2 and all.

You stand straight and head for the door, pushing it open when you feel someone pull you back from the strap of your backpack, hard. Somehow, you were able to maintain your balance and look up at the face who deprived you of your freedom. Hair dyed blonde and a scar across his left eye. He sneered.

"What do we have here?" His friends behind him snicker as he pressed forward, making you bump against some of the merchandise.

"Is that for me?" The blonde placed his hands over his heart as he feigned gratitude, noticing your drink and pastry. As he stepped closer, you looked away and felt him take your bag with the bread. He threw it on the ground and stomped on it, smearing the delicious treat on the floor with his foot.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep, shaky breath. Never imagining yourself in this position before, you decided not to go down without a fight, no matter what their intentions were. You held your breath as he took one more step closer, and that's when you jammed your right knee against his crotch with all the strength you could muster. It was enough to distract him for a moment, and you ran out, throwing your drink at him, focusing only on getting out of there.

As you heard him and his group start to run after you, you heard a voice. Not just anyone's voice. His voice.

"Hey!"

You stopped in your tracks and turned back around. Being a good distance away, you noticed Hyuntak and his friends a few feet apart from the entrance of the convenience store where the blonde and his group were also stopped in confusion. The blonde looked pissed, whether from being hit in the nuts or stopped from chasing after you, you couldn't be sure.

"This has nothing to do with you!" He screamed in rage.

All the while, Hyuntak remained calm. His eyes scanned the area, first seeming to count how many of the goons there were, and then to the blonde covered in your drink. Hands in the pockets of his pants, he glanced over at you, and you both locked eyes. Your heavy breathing from the adrenaline and run began to slow down, and you felt a sense of peace take over you.

He turned back to the blonde. "It does now."

The next word was said at the same time. You in your head and the blonde aloud, "What?"

Before you had time to think it over, Hyuntak's fist connected with the blonde's face, knocking him to the ground. You gasped, stuck in freeze or flight mode. The decision was made for you when one of the goons charged after you. The last thing you saw before running away was three of Hyuntak's friends joining in on the fight, including Baku.

You ran as fast as you could, not daring to look back. You knew the area pretty well and figured you would be able to hide somewhere once the coast was clear when you felt a pair of hands slam you against a wall. Your face and body were pushed into it, holding you in place.

"We weren't done with you yet." Said an unfamiliar voice, his hot breath fanned against your ear, and you struggled to get away.

Before you could scream for help, someone threw the boy off of you. You turned around, back towards the wall, as you watched Hyuntak beat the guy to a pulp. With his back towards you, you badly wanted to tell him to stop, but you couldn't find your voice. It wasn't until Baku walked up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, and said, "Enough, Gotak."

Hyuntak stopped fist midair and let go of the boy, his limp body making a thud as he hit the ground. He was breathing heavily, and yet there didn't seem to be a scratch on him. Baku looked untouched as well. As if he read your mind, he turned to you and smiled.

"Are you alright?"

You nodded, still a bit in shock and unsure of how to thank them. Hyuntak took a breath and finally turned to face you. His eyes looked into yours again, and this time, you felt your heart start to race for a different reason.

"I need to hear you say it," his voice was soft, yet stern, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I'm okay." You managed to get out.

His eyes softened, and he looked at Baku. With a nod of his head, he turned and walked back from the way we came. Hyuntak looked at you and simply said, "Let's go."

The walk back to his friends was silent. You tried to fix your school uniform and composure as discreetly as possible. With no idea of how your hair looked, you figured it was what it was. You peeked at Hyuntak, and he looked lost in thought. Up ahead, two of his friends were waiting, and it appeared that the blonde and his goons had run off. You wondered where his other friend went. The one with the glasses.

"Nice job, Sieun! Suho!" Baku threw his arms over their shoulders with a wide smile. "Where's Juntae?

As if on cue, the one named Juntae comes out of the convenience store with what looked like your drink and a pastry bag. He smiled shyly and handed you the items. "We hope you're alright. I wasn't sure of the pastry, so I just got one I recommend."

The day's toll hit you instantly, and tears welled up in your eyes. You quickly wiped them and looked at the five boys who rescued you. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

The boys all smiled, apart from Hyuntak. He cleared his throat, adjusted his blue hoodie, and faced his friends, "I'll walk her home. See you guys later."

They waved goodbye to you, and you waved back with a smile. You then noticed Hyuntak staring at you with curiosity. You blushed and turned to the general area of your home. "It's this way."

Even though the distance was short, they say time lasts longer being with someone you like. The sun was beginning to set, and the breeze felt nice against your skin. It was a comfortable silence until you heard Hyuntak say, "Drink."

You stopped walking and looked up at him confused, "What?"

He sighed, "You must be dehydrated. Drink." He gestured to the strawberry banana smoothie.

Oh. You hadn't even realized how thirsty you were until he mentioned it. Your lips covered the straw, and you drank. The cold drink felt good traveling down your throat. You eagerly drank some more, and that's when you heard Hyuntak chuckle. You watched his smile, and up close, it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You blinked and took in your surroundings, and saw that your home was just a few houses down.

"I'm fine here. Thank you for walking me home. And thank you for helping me today."

"You can thank me by letting me walk you home for a while." He said.

Shaking your head, you began to protest. "There's really no need. You don't-"

With what looked like slow motion, Hyuntak leaned over. He maintained eye contact until his lips touched the straw of your drink. You held still, letting him finish it and at the same time not believing this was happening. When he stood up, he smiled at your reaction. You couldn't tell if it was his smile that blinded you or the sun setting behind him.

He walked past you and said over his shoulder, "See you tomorrow, y/n."

A/N: may or may not continue this. Gif is made by me. Feedback is appreciated :)

Update: Part 2 is posted! ♡

#go hyuntak #gotak #weak hero class 2 #whc2 #reconnection #fanfiction #park humin #baku #seo juntae #weak hero x reader #go hyuntak x reader #weak hero class 1 #~☆#i took taekwondo when i was younger so best believe he instantly became my fave #i love him so much

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lov3lycosmos · 3 days ago

Text

Brothers Bsf!Minho who...knows it’s wrong, but that’s what makes it hotter.

every time he sees you in your pajamas or hears you laugh from down the hall, it gets harder to resist. You’re off-limits—but he's never been great at following rules.

Brothers Bsf!Minho who...eases you constantly when your brother’s around, but in subtle ways.

a hand on your lower back when passing by, whispered jokes in your ear, calling you “brat” under his breath—always daring you to react.

Brothers Bsf!Minho who...the first time it happens, it’s fast and intense.

he corners you in your bedroom after your brother leaves the house. It’s rushed, needy, and leaves you both breathless. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me, do you?”

Brothers Bsf!Minho who...loves controlling the pace.

minho will pin your wrists above your head, hover his mouth over yours, and whisper, “Beg for it.” He wants to hear you fall apart just from his words.

Brothers Bsf!Minho who...is into overstimulation.

once he gets a taste of you, he can’t stop. One orgasm isn’t enough—he’ll edge you again and again until you're shaking, moaning his name like it’s the only word you know.

Brothers Bsf!Minho who...is a huge whisper-in-your-ear guy.

he leans in when you’re trying to stay quiet, murmuring things like “Such a needy little thing for your brother’s best friend, huh?”

Brothers Bsf!Minho who...is possessive in bed.

after he fucks you, he always leaves marks—hickeys on your thighs, scratches down your back, bruises on your hips—proof that you’re his secret.

Brothers Bsf!Minho who...loves fucking you while you’re on the phone with your brother.

he'll slide his fingers between your legs and smirk while you try to keep your voice steady. “Act normal. Go on. Say hi for me.”

Brothers Bsf!Minho who...is very good with his hands—and knows it.

minho uses them to grab your throat lightly, spank you, or finger you until you’re clenching around nothing. “You’re dripping, and I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

Brothers Bsf!Minho who's...favorite position is from behind, head turned, making you look at him in the mirror.

he holds your hips and mutters, “Look at how good you take me. So desperate to be filled, huh?”

Brothers Bsf!Minho who...has a thing for lingerie and innocence.

you wear his shirt and nothing underneath? Game over. Minho will have you on your back in seconds, face buried between your legs, making you cum from his mouth alone.

Brothers Bsf!Minho who's...dirty talk is constant.

he’s not shy—he’ll say everything he’s going to do to you before he does it. “I’m going to fuck you so deep, you’ll be dripping me all day.”

Brothers Bsf!Minho who...records your moans sometimes (with your permission).

when he’s away, he plays them back with a smirk, replaying his favorite parts like a personal playlist. “Gonna make you scream like that again when I get back.”

Brothers Bsf!Minho who...makes you say his name over and over during sex. (maybe hoping your brother hears~)

if you slip up and moan something like “Oppa” or “Please,” he chuckles darkly and says, “No. Say my name. Say Minho.”

Brothers Bsf!Minho who's...aftercare is surprisingly soft.

he’ll clean you up, kiss your cheeks, and hold you close like he didn’t just ruin you minutes before. “Still breathing, sweetheart?” he teases, cuddling you until you fall asleep.

taglist: @vampzity @sooniedoongiedori25 @mhluvie @yaorzu-blog @lze325 @felixleftchickennugget @m-325 @lezleeferguson-120 @psychicyouthfox @pixie-felix @angel-writes-here @heechwe @galaxy4489 @minniesverse @gncbnahc

#☆lov3lycosmos☆#stray kids smut #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz reactions #skz smut #skz imagines #skz x reader #lee minho smut #lee minho x reader #leeknow smut #leeknow x reader #lee know #lee minho

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dreamauri · 3 days ago

Note

Hi can I pls request a Sebastian Vettel x reader where he and reader were teamates back in the day now are married reader has won many championships and seb is now her wag.... Attends the races with the kids etc.

U r bloody amazing luv, ur fics r brilliant!!!!!!!

♪ — 𝗪𝗔𝗚𝗢𝗡 𝗙𝗨𝗟𝗟 𝗢𝗙 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 sebastian vetteln x wife! reader ( fluff ) fic summary . . . You started out chasing the dream with him by your side—racing, rising, falling into something more. Now, the world watches you shine, but his eyes have always seen you brightest (1.3k words)

( master list | more of sebastian vettel ) ( requests )

You never thought you'd be the one still racing.

And you definitely never thought he'd be the one on the sidelines.

But maybe, if you really look back, the signs were always there—quiet and golden, tucked into late-night debriefs and lingering glances in the Red Bull garage. You and Seb were teammates back then. Just teammates.

Except… not just. Not when the eye contact lasted a little too long after qualifying.

Not when his laugh cracked open something warm in your chest.

Not when the two of you took the podium by storm, spraying champagne with the kind of reckless joy that felt like forever.

You did everything together—test days, press conferences, summer breaks. You learned each other’s tells before you learned your own. And somewhere in between fighting for fastest laps and stealing bites of each other's desserts, you fell in love.

Fast-forward to now: you’re not just together. You’re married married.

House in Switzerland. Shoes by the door. Kids who’ve inherited both your curls and his stubbornness. He still smells like warm leather and hotel shampoo and something soft you can’t name—but now, it’s wrapped in the domestic comfort of someone who knows where your favorite hoodie is and folds your race suit when you forget.

You always thought you'd retire together. After all, your careers were twined like vines from the beginning—Seb and Yn. Yn and Seb. Champions. Icons.

But after he bowed out—graceful and grinning and a little emotional—life changed fast. You took a year off to have the twins, certain that this was your new finish line. Your body was different. Your priorities shifted. The fire was still there, but quieter, buried beneath lullabies and late-night feeds.

You remember telling him—softly, almost like a confession—“I think I’m done.”

And he just looked at you across the kitchen, cradling a baby in one arm and making coffee with the other, and said:

“You should go win a fourth. And a fifth. I’ll take care of the twins.”

And just like that, the dream flickered back to life.

So you did.

You returned to the grid like a comet, burning hotter than before. Won your fourth title with spitfire precision and a mother’s patience. Your fifth with a calm kind of fury that made pundits whisper you might be the greatest of all time. Meanwhile, Seb packed snacks, braided hair, helped the kids paint glittery signs with "GO MUM GO!" in messy, proud scrawls.

Sometimes reporters still ask if he misses it. The competition. The adrenaline. The roar of the crowd. He always smiles, eyes tracking you from pit wall to podium.

“Not as much as I love watching her win.”

Because now he’s the one in the paddock with a baby strapped to his chest and a juice box in his back pocket, grinning when your name lights up on the timing screen. He holds your helmet like it’s holy. He’s first to clap when you step onto the podium and first to kiss you behind closed doors, murmuring, “My champion.”

You never thought you'd be the one still racing.

But here you are—five stars next to your name. A garage full of trophies. And a husband who was once your fiercest rival… now your fiercest supporter. Still yours. Always yours.

And he's never missed a race.

Your race weekend starts like always—with him kissing the back of your neck as you zip up your fireproof suit, his touch warm and grounding, like the sun peeking through a cold garage. The kiss isn’t rushed or showy. It’s gentle, familiar. A ritual older than your kids but still new enough to make your pulse stutter.

“Win today,” he whispers against your skin, voice low and smiling. “But don’t forget, we’ve got pasta night after.”

You glance at him over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow like he’s not being painfully obvious.

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you miss Italian catering,” you reply, grinning as you tap the tip of his nose.

He shrugs like a man who knows he’s been caught but doesn’t mind one bit. You catch a flash of silver in his beard that wasn’t there last season, and it hits you all over again how lucky you are. That he chose this. Chose you.

Your oldest, Leo, is already at your side, tugging at your glove with eager hands and wide eyes. He holds up his homemade flag with the pride of someone who’s just revealed a masterpiece—“GO MUM GO” scrawled in chaotic, glitter-glued glory. It's crooked and smeared and perfect. You crouch to kiss the crown of his head, feeling his curls bounce under your lips.

The twins are seated on the pit wall, feet swinging as they bicker in loud, animated whispers about who has the cooler paddock pass—yours, obviously, or Uncle Charles’s. You don’t even have to weigh in. Your pass glows crimson with five little stars etched under your name. Their mother: the reigning champ.

Seb hoists the baby onto his hip like it’s second nature, the way he once handled steering wheels and gear shifts. One arm around a toddler, the other adjusting the straps on a mini backpack shaped like a race car. He’s dressed in casual neutrals, ball cap low over his eyes, but the moment the cameras spot him—something shifts. There’s a pause, a flicker of awe. The four-time world champion, the legend, now better known as your husband.

And you swear—every single time—you see it in their faces: respect, nostalgia, and then something softer. Because while the world remembers the fearless Red Bull driver who conquered the world, you know this version of him is even more heroic.

He’s the man who makes your pre-race playlist. Who tells bedtime stories in three languages. Who wipes glitter off the baby's face and still manages to wave at the fans with a grin that hasn’t changed since 2010.

And when your name lights up on the timing screen in P1, he cheers loudest—arms raised, baby bouncing, heart bursting. The cameras always catch him. But you? You only ever look for him.

Because in a sport that never stops moving, he is your still point. Your home. And his favorite title these days?

Mr. Five-Time World Champion’s Husband.

Your race weekend ends like this: helmet off, hair damp, heart thundering under your suit. The roar of the crowd is still fading when you see them—your team already crushing you in hugs, radios buzzing with congratulations, and then them. Your whole world, running toward you like the final straight at Suzuka.

Seb reaches you first, with the twins hot on his heels, their little arms waving and voices high and breathless.

You open your arms wide, wide enough for all three of them to fit inside, and they do—like they always do.

You press a kiss to the top of each messy-haired head, and then to Seb—longer, deeper. The kind of kiss that steals time. The kind that says you did it again, and thank you for holding the fort, and I love you more than winning.

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, just like he did when you first met, and laughs—eyes bright with nothing but pride.

“Still the fastest one in the family,” he says.

“Always will be,” you wink.

Later, when you climb the podium—champagne still misting off your suit, the sun dipping low behind the paddock, gold spilling across the sky like someone knew you’d win—you look down and spot him.

He’s grinning like the day he first won Monza. That wide, boyish smile that once lit up entire circuits. But this time, you’re the one standing up there, drenched in champagne and glory. And he’s not holding a trophy—he’s holding your kids. Both of them balanced on his hips, fists pumping the air, chanting your name like it’s the only word they’ve ever learned.

Five stars glitter next to your name now. One husband who never let your light dim. Two kids who think you hung the moon.

Not bad for a girl who started out in his shadow.

Now he lives in yours—and he loves the view.

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elswhore · 2 days ago

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𝐄.𝐖 ── X.O TATTED ALL OVER HER BODY

you asked your tattoo artist, ellie, what's her favorite tattoo she’s done on your body, instead of pointing it out, she took it into a more intimate approach.

hickeys. marking. biting. fingering. praise kink. teasing. sensory play involved. body worship.

masterlist ۶ৎ navigation ۶ৎ

the hum of the tattoo parlor had long faded, leaving just you and ellie in the dimly lit studio, the air smelled of ink and antiseptic.

you’d been coming to ellie for months, her skilled hands etching art into your skin a constellation of ink across your collarbone, shoulder, chest, wrist, hips, and thighs.

each session felt like a ritual, her focus on your body both professional, today, you’d asked a simple question, leaning back in the tattoo chair, your voice teasing but curious.

“ellie, which one’s your favorite? of all the tattoos you’ve done on me.” her green eyes flicked up from where she was cleaning her tools, a smirk tugging at her lips.

she didn’t answer right away, instead, she set her tools down, her movements deliberate, and walked over to you, her flannel sleeves were rolled up, exposing the ink that snaked across her own arms, and her hair was pulled back in a messy bun.

there was a glint in her gaze, playful but edged with something hungrier. “you really wanna know?” she asked, her voice low, almost a purr.

she didn’t wait for your nod, instead, she closed the distance, her boots scuffing softly against the floor, you were still in the chair, half reclined, and she leaned over you, one hand bracing on the armrest.

her proximity made your pulse quicken, her breath warm against your ear as she murmured “i don’t think i can just point to it.” before you could respond, her lips were on your collarbone, right where the delicate lines of her favorite tattoo—a swirling design of vines and stars—curved over your skin.

the first kiss was soft, a tease, but then her mouth opened, and she sucked hard, pulling a gasp from your throat, the sensation was electric, a mix of warmth and pressure that sent a shiver down your spine.

she didn’t stop there, her teeth grazed the sensitive skin, nipping just enough to sting, then soothing the spot with her tongue.

you could feel the heat blooming under her touch, the promise of a hickey forming where her lips claimed you. “ellie—” you breathed, but she only hummed against your skin, her mouth moving with purpose.

qnother suck, another bite, each one marking the tattoo she loved most, the collarbone was her canvas now, and she was painting it with her desire, her hands, calloused from hours of wielding a tattoo gun, found your shoulders, pinning you gently but firmly in place.

there was a quiet dominance in her touch, a wordless command to let her take the lead. “you look so fucking good with my art on you” she murmured, her voice rough with admiration.

the praise hit you like a wave, pooling warmth low in your belly, her lips trailed lower, kissing the edge of the tattoo where it spilled onto your chest, her teeth catching the skin just enough to make you squirm.

“this one… it’s perfect. right here.” her fingers, meanwhile, were wandering, they traced the ink on your wrist, then slid down to your hips, where another tattoo—a crescent moon—curved along the dip of your pelvis.

she pressed her thumb against it, the pressure deliberate, teasing, as her other hand found your thigh, the tattoo there was a dagger wrapped in roses, and her fingers followed its lines, slow and sensual, like she was memorizing every detail.

your breath hitched as her touch grew bolder, her nails grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “ellie, what are you—” you started, but she cut you off with a sharp nip to your collarbone, making you yelp softly.

the mix of pain and pleasure was dizzying, and she knew it her smirk was audible in her voice as she said, “shh. let me show you how much i like this one.” her hand slid higher, slipping beneath the hem of your shorts, and you felt her fingers brush against the heat between your thighs.

the anticipation was agonizing, her touch light enough to tease but heavy with intent, she paused, her eyes locking onto yours, seeking permission in the haze of your shared desire.

you nodded, barely able to form words, and that was all she needed, ellie’s fingers parted you gently, exploring with the same precision she used when inking your skin.

she found your clit first, circling it with slow, deliberate strokes that made your hips buck against her hand, the sensation was overwhelming, amplified by the lingering sting of her bites on your collarbone and the warmth of her body leaning over you.

she watched your reactions closely, her gaze intense, like she was studying the way you unraveled under her touch. “god, you’re so wet” she said, her voice dripping with awe and hunger.

the praise made you whimper, and she rewarded you by slipping one finger inside, curling it just right to hit that spot that made your vision blur.

the stretch was perfect, her movements steady but unrelenting, and she added a second finger, filling you more, her thumb still circling your clit with maddening precision.

the rhythm was intoxicating, each thrust of her fingers paired with the soft scrape of her nails against your thigh, the contrast driving you wild.

her mouth returned to your collarbone, sucking harder now, leaving a constellation of marks that would linger for days.

the pain of her bites mingled with the pleasure of her fingers, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge, your body taut like a drawn bow.

ellie sensed it too, her movements growing more insistent, her fingers pumping faster, deeper, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the air. “look at you” she whispered, her lips brushing your ear.

“falling apart for me. So fucking beautiful.” The words were your undoing, pushing you over the edge as your orgasm crashed through you.

your thighs clamped around her hand, your back arching as waves of pleasure pulsed through every nerve, ellie didn’t stop, her fingers slowing but still moving, drawing out every last shudder until you were boneless, gasping in the chair.

she finally pulled back, her fingers glistening, and brought them to her lips, tasting you with a low hum of satisfaction, her eyes were dark, her smirk triumphant.

“that” she said, nodding to the hickeys blooming on your collarbone “is my favorite tattoo, for now.” you laughed weakly, still catching your breath, and she leaned down to kiss you properly, her lips soft but possessive.

the taste of her, mixed with the lingering heat of her touch, was enough to make you wonder what other tattoos she might claim next.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie willams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams tlou x reader #ellie x fem reader

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jarofstyles · 10 hours ago

Text

Teach Me?

Hello love bugs, we've got a huge one shot here. I see a lot of writing where the guy helps the girl out with inexperience, but I thought I'd like to write something where he's the one asking for help. I had a lot of fun putting this together so I hope you guys like it. I may do more but I have a lot of other stuffed planned but let me know your thoughts!

Check out our Patreon for early access and 260+ exclusive writings!

WC- 12.3k

Warnings- mentions of insecurity, anxiety, oral, soft!Dom H, soft!Dom Y/N, switchy vibes but mostly Dom!H, Y/N pokes fun at him for being nerdy but she loves it,

"Hey..." Harry began casually, wiping his hands on a towel after washing. Her best friend had invited himself over for dinner, which meant he was going to do the dishes. It was an unspoken rule of their friendship. If you invite yourself, you clean up. But seeing as Y/N was the one who cooked nine out of ten times, it had become a normal to see him at her kitchen sink. Her eyes peeked up at him from her phone, giving him a look to continue. "Can I ask you something? It's a kinda...weird request." He scratched the back of his neck nervously, looking at her with an attempt at puppy dog eyes. He wanted something and it made her narrow her eyes.

“I’m not going to the convention with you again, Har. It’s not my scene, I told you. I’ll watch any series of movies until our brains leak out our ears but if I have to sit through panels and Q&As where they ask what the characters favorite food is again I may lose my mind.” She knew it was coming up… but apparently that wasn’t his point. Thank God.

"No! No. Adam is going with me this year. Rude. But besides that…” It made her a lot more curious as to what it could be because he did genuinely look nervous. “It's a weird question, actually." He sat down next to her on the couch, twisting his hands together. "And you can totally say no... but..." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Would you... maybe..." The hesitance had her sitting up a little straighter, raising her brow higher to urge him forward. "God..." He muttered softly, trying to find the words. "You promise not to judge?" He saw her raise an eyebrow. "I mean it. No making fun of me." He watched as she slowly nodded, waiting.

“I make fun of you for a lot of things, but if you’re asking me not to, I won’t. Are you okay?” Y/N asked softly, unused to his behavior. He was usually playful and could take any joke, so it wasn’t exactly like him to ask her not to do it.

"I'm okay." He assured her, but still had the nervous look in his eyes. "It's just... I've recently realized... kinda an embarrassing thing about myself." He shifted uncomfortably, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "I don’t think… I don’t think I’m actually making girls finish properly when I hook up with them. At least not every time. And I feel like shit about it.”

That was a surprise to her. Harry had the whole hot and nerdy thing going on, and he pulled plenty. Not that he always attempted or took them up on the offers, but he’d had a few girls he had hooked up with that she knew of. Usually he kept pretty quiet about it, but that didn’t bother her. Y/N had assumed a lot about him because… He did have some big dick energy going on. He had really nice hands too. The idea of him being unskilled in bed didn’t feel like it was right, but she was hearing him out. “What’s making you think this?” She asked curiously. “Did someone say something?”

"No, no one's ever said anything. Not to my face." His face flushed slightly pink as he shifted again, trying to get comfortable. "I just... well. Sometimes I noticed they'd tense up or seem kinda disappointed later. Like they were expecting something else. More? I dunno. And they don’t usually text me again, which is fine and all but I hate thinking I let someone down. It’s embarrassing." He avoided looking at her while he talked, staring at his fidgeting fingers instead. "I don't want to be one of those guys who only thinks about themselves. That’s the last thing I want to do." He trailed off, clearly embarrassed. So unlike him that it made her heart hurt a little bit. Harry was a happy guy and seeing him not like that was like seeing a wet puppy in the street. She had to fix it.

“Well the fact that you even care at all is really good. I know, the bar is on the floor but, unfortunately a lot of men don’t give a shit if we finish or not.” Y/N knew plenty of men- had experienced them herself- that didn’t care if it felt good for her. They wanted a quick nut and go. Harry never seemed to be the type. Honestly, he was very thorough in most things and she’d assumed that would properly bleed over to sex.

“Wanting to be better is half the battle. You don’t have to be embarrassed about it. The first time I sucked someone off I gagged really awfully, the sound made him go soft.” She laughed at her own bad time. “We all start somewhere.”

He laughed softly at her story, feeling a little more at ease knowing he wasn’t the only one. Y/N was far more experienced and open about being a little freak, so it felt better to know even she had some weirder experiences. It wasn’t just him. "Yeah, I can imagine." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Gagging on dick is not the most pleasant experience, is it?" He turned to look at her, his eyes serious again. "But, um, thanks for listening and all that. I just... I want to be good at it. For them, and for myself." He looked down at his hands again, picking at his fingernails nervously. He needed to paint them again so he would stop doing it. His pink polish was chipped. "And that's why I was wondering…” He bit his lip, his heart racing as he tried to work up the nerve to ask his best friend a very personal favor. The most personal you could probably get.

"Would you... would you maybe let me practice on you?” The silence lingered for a moment longer than he was okay with, panicking slightly as he continue. “I promise I'll listen to everything you say, and we can stop anytime you want. We don’t even have to! You can say no, obviously.” The man was babbling as he tried to untwist his tongue. “But I really trust you and I think you'd give me good feedback. Honest feedback." He looked up at her with pleading eyes, his cheeks flushed a darker pink that she hadn’t seen before- all the way up to his ears.

“Me?” That… was not at all what she had expected. To be fair she hadn’t been sure what to expect but that would probably be lower on the list. “You want to… practice eating pussy or something, on me? I just want to make sure I heard you correctly.” Because she sure as hell didn’t know if this was some sort of dream or delusion.

Harry nodded quickly, his ears turning an even deeper shade of red. "Yeah, you. I mean, if you're comfortable with it. I know it's a really fucking weird request and all, I swear I’m not trying to make anything weird with us but... you're my best friend, and I trust you. And I know you'd be honest with me." Y/N was known for being honest even if it wasn’t the most appropriate time to be. He looked at her with those big, hopeful eyes, his bottom lip worried between his teeth. "Please? I promise I'll do everything I can to make it good for you, if you let me. I just really want to get better at this."

It could fuck up the friendship. Y/N knew that, because it was every sort of cliche thing that tells you do not, under any circumstances, hook up with your best friend. But… it had been a while. Harry didn’t ask much of her besides her dinners and to go to some events with him so he wasn’t alone. He listened to her rants and brought her food when she was hungry and didn’t want to go out. He made her bed for her sometimes just because he was near and tidy like that. He swept the kitchen after dinner. He bought tickets to movies and concerts on his card and told her to pay him back whenever she could. He protected her if people acted weird at the rare chance they went out to the bar. Harry was a really fucking good friend, the best she’d ever had.

She also couldn’t lie to herself and say she didn’t think he had a spectacularly pretty mouth and even better hands. They had always been really nice. Soft, long fingers, big palm. The tattoos that trickled down… Fuck. She was going to say yes. Fuck it. “Okay. I guess we can, but I’ve got some rules.”

He blinked, surprised but trying to hide it, his heart racing faster at her surprisingly quick answer. "Rules?" He nodded, leaning forward slightly, completely focused on her words. "Of course. I mean... I'll do anything you say." That came out a bit too smooth, and they both caught the double meaning. He cleared his throat, trying to appear casual and failing miserably. "What are they?" His eyes were fixed on her, his hands folded in his lap to stop them from shaking nervously.

“I mean, I’m being a little dramatic. It’s only a few.” She laughed, leaning back on the couch. “One being we don’t tell anyone. Our friends are already weird about how much time we spend together. Two, you don’t touch me and then another woman. If you find someone else that’s completely fine, but I don’t want her germs and shit on me.” That was not something she liked at all. “If you’re practicing on me, it’s me. I won’t fuck around with other people either, but I don’t fuck with STIs and all that.” It was doubtful he would need to be reminded of that.

“I’m assuming this is going to be a couple times because the way you get good at stuff is practicing. I won’t complain if I get a few orgasms out of this.” She shrugged as if this was a normal thing to be discussing. Best friends having sex. “But the last one is you don’t make things weird after you’re all good with your skills. Don’t make stuff weird.”

"Those are..." He cleared his throat, trying to process everything she had just said. "Those are actually very reasonable rules." He nodded, making sure to emphasize each point so she know he heard her loud and clear. "One: Not telling our friends is smart. Two: Of course, no cheating. We aren’t dating but I’m a one woman type of man. My mother raised me better than that. You know she would kill me." He managed a small smile. "Three: I, uh, plan on practicing. A lot, if you let me." His eyes lingered just a moment too long on her lips, then quickly flicked away.

“Good.” Harry was efficient in most things. It’s exactly why she understood how much it probably bothered the hell out of him to not really be able to get a woman off, or so he thinks. She was just being a good friend, right? helping him out. “So walk me through what you usually do when you bring someone home. We start there. I can tell you if something you’re doing is weird.”

He swallowed nervously, trying to collect his thoughts as he shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "Well, uh... usually I'd start by kissing them, ya know? Get them a little worked up before moving down." He gestured vaguely with his hands, as if physically trailing kisses down an imaginary body. "Then I'd kinda... kiss around the area, maybe use my fingers first to make sure they're wet and all..." He trailed off, wincing as he realized how clinical it sounded when he said it out loud.

“That sounds decent, but kind of like a routine.” Harry was like that, she knew, but sex wasn’t. “Not all women are the same, though. We’re all different. You don’t experiment at all to see where her sensitive spots are? Do you keep kissing to the lips and her cunt?” The question was blunt, but she usually was.

"Well... No, actually. I kinda just do the same thing every time." He ran a hand through his hair nervously, realizing how basic that sounded compared to how she spoke about sex. "And yeah, I guess I do stop kissing once I get down there. Why?" He was listening intently, genuinely curious about her approach. For all his perceived experience with women, he was suddenly feeling very inexperienced in this one area. Something about the way she talked about sex was... different. Confident, like it was no big deal.

“Because women are sensual creatures, Harry. Sure, we have similar biological things that happen but the way we get horny is with our minds. Teasing a little. Dirty talk, if you’re good at it, ease into it. Kissing places that aren’t just the obvious.” Shifting to face him, she grabbed one of his hands and put it on her shoulder. He was definitely nervous. It was a little cute. “I’ll give you a cheat sheet for me. I really like to be kissed under my ear, over my throat. Sometimes a lick or a suck. A bite, if I’m in the mood. I like to be kissed over my stomach, tops of my breasts, inner thighs, hips. They aren’t necessarily obvious, but the exploration is nice.”

Taking his hand, she moved it to her neck and then dragged it down past her tits, down her stomach to the waistband of her joggers. “You can have a general path, but you need to be comfortable deviating from it when that’s what she responds to.”

"Fuck..." The curse slipped out quietly as his breath caught, noticing how comfortable she was with his hand on her body. His fingers lingered at her waistband, acutely aware of the sensitive skin just inches beneath. "I never really thought about it like that. I always just went straight for the pussy." He cleared his throat, realizing how crude that sounded coming out loud. "I mean..." She chuckled at his flustered state, finding it endearing. "So you're saying I should take my time? Like, really tease her out?" He moved his hand slightly, fingertips brushing the bare skin of her lower abdomen just beneath her shirt hem. "Kiss other places, see what makes her squirm?"

His gaze flickered down to where his hand rested, then back up to meet her eyes. There was a new spark of understanding there, like pieces clicking into place. "And if I find somewhere she likes? I should... explore that?"

“Yeah.” Her stomach had jumped as he moved his hand but didn’t say anything about it. “Every person is different. I’m sure you have places you like to be touched that people haven’t tried yet either. Being in tune with your body and hers, being able to read the cues that’s what could be your strength.” It was something a lot of men didn’t bother to take into consideration.

"Like, if she makes a certain noise or tenses up?" He was genuinely intrigued now, his mind racing with possibilities. "What if she pulls my hair or digs her nails into my back?" He shifted his hand lower, fingers splaying out on her stomach curiously. "Does that mean she likes it?" He was so focused on the hypotheticals that he almost missed the way his hand resting on her stomach made her stomach muscles twitch slightly beneath his palm.

“Yes, exactly that. Sometimes you’ll be able to feel her pulse if you’re holding her wrist, or.. Well, if you’ve got your hand around her throat. We’ll talk about proper choking another day, but you can see if her pulse jumps from that.” His hands were perfect for that, honestly, and she shouldn’t let her mind wander. Nope. “The noises she makes, if she pulls you further in, bucks her hips, those are all good signs. Not everyone is extremely vocal, but checking in to make sure she likes it, if she wants you to give more, it can help.

"Checking in?" He repeated, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he tried to wrap his head around the idea. "You mean like... asking her if she likes it?" He shifted his hand lower still, fingertips brushing the hem of her joggers. "Like, 'is this okay?' Or 'do you like this?'" He could see how that might be helpful, especially with quieter partners. "But wouldn't that ruin the moment?" He looked up at her, genuinely curious and seeking approval.

“You don’t have to ask in such a sterile way. You can just say something like ‘does that feel good?’ or ‘that’s nice, baby?’ and see her response. You’ve got a nice voice, Har. Use it.” She gave him the compliment easily. He did need a bit of confidence boosting, that much she could already tell. “Checking in shouldn’t ruin the moment. It’s safe, it’s a sign of a good partner. You’ll figure out how to check in in a less… abrupt way.”

"Right... fuck me." He muttered under his breath, actually feeling slightly embarrassed about how little thought he'd put into this before. "I've been a clueless fuck, haven't I?" He sighed, running his fingers along her waistband more deliberately now, testing how she responded. His heart stuttered slightly when she complimented his voice."So like..." He traced patterns on her lower stomach with his fingertips, almost unconsciously. “Feels good?” Testing out the way she had suggested.

Y/N swallowed, feeling a bit of a shift. He had seemed to be having a good time touching her stomach, the light tracing on her skin making her heat up a little bit. She wasn’t blind- Harry had most definitely gotten hotter over the years, and he was just attractive in general. Though she hadn’t allowed herself to look at him as anything but the quirky best friend he was, getting to see a different side of him was something she was intrigued by.

“Mhm.” She tilted her head slightly to the side. “See? It doesn’t have to be straight into it. Just touches like that can get a girl wet.” It was starting to get to her, weirdly enough. “Tell me about kissing. How do you usually start it?”

"Kissing..." He trailed off, his mind briefly distracted by the way her skin felt beneath his fingers. "Uh... well. I usually start with a simple peck, just to see if they're into it." His other hand came up to gently tilt her chin, exposing her neck to him. "If they seem like I have the go ahead, I'll press my lips to theirs more firmly- it’s kinda hard to explain with words." Being a little bold, he let his thumb brush over her bottom lip absently as he spoke, his gaze fixed on her mouth.

“Well if you’re going to eat me out, I don’t see why you can’t just show me.” Kissing Harry had not been something she had anticipated actually doing, really ever, but she can’t say she hadn’t thought about it. The man had an incredible mouth. Soft looking lips, deep pink, the cute little birthmark, all of it was appealing- it was just that it wasn't a possibility for her prior. “Show me how you do it with them.”

His thumb brushed her bottom lip again, his breath hitching slightly at the idea of kissing her. It was just an exercise, he reminded himself firmly. This was just a dry run, to help him figure out his technique. But as he slowly leaned in, his heart rate picked up, eyes flicking between her lips and onto her eyes. "Like... this." He whispered hoarsely, sliding his hand back into her hair to tilt her head further. His lips pressed to hers gently, just a soft brush at first to test the waters. His lips were soft and warm against hers, the kiss gentle at first. He waited for her to react, to see if she would pull away or lean into it. As she didn't, he took it as his sign to keep going, slowly increased the pressure, his lips molding to hers in a soft, sweet kiss.

Feeling emboldened when she began to press her lips back to his, Harry peppered her lips with a series of short, sweet kisses. His lips brushed against hers once, twice, three times in rapid succession, each kiss a little firmer than the last. He could feel her starting to relax into it, her lips softening beneath his own. Encouraged, he let his tongue flick out briefly, a teasing taste before pulling back slightly to gauge her reaction. She tasted like the lemon lime soda she’d had with dinner, a sweet surprise. All of this had been. He hadn’t been sure if she would say yes and if this would potentially make things weird, but thankfully Y/N seemed at least a little receptive to it. His hand remained in her hair, holding her gently as he studied her face for any signs of discomfort or approval. “Okay?”

Y/N knew he would be a good kisser, but he was playing it safe. However, even with the safety still on, she knew he had it in him. He wasn’t as shy as he had been before and that had surprised her a bit when he had gripped her to keep her in place. That had been exceptionally hot. At least to her. “Yeah. You did well.” She cleared her throat to rid herself of the rasp. “You’re playing it safe, though. Here.”

Swinging her knee over his lap, she pushed him back against the back of the couch so his posture was more relaxed. “You’re stiff. Pun not intended.” She snickered, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You’ve got to relax a little bit. I don’t know if it’s just me or you get anxious when you kiss other girls too. The thing you did holding my face still? That was hot. It’s gonna depend on the girl but you seem to have an idea on what to do.” Placing her hands on his broad shoulders, she settled her weight on top of him. Hm.. he really had been doing well at the gym. “You okay with me on your lap?”

Harry blinked in surprise, trying to catch up to the fact that she was currently in his lap. Closer than she usually got to him, voluntarily hopping on up. “Y-yes! I mean, yes, please. Go on." His voice cracked slightly at the end, betraying his nerves. He wasn’t sure if it was from the unexpected closeness or just the sudden shift in dynamic between them. Her weight felt nice on his lap, but besides a cuddle or two this was definitely the closest they’d ever been. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be nervous.”

Y/N nearly cooed. His frown was precious, really. He was precious. Sliding a hand over his jaw, she tilted his head to meet her eyes. “It’s okay to be nervous, but it’s just me. I’m not going to judge you. You asked for my help, and I’m gonna give it to you.” Slipping her fingers in his hair, she made herself familiar with touching him. They hadn’t been super touchy to begin with but she knew Harry liked physical touch. He was clingy with their other friends physically, but he had always respected that Y/N typically wasn’t the type. Now though? It was free game. “You can touch me how you want. Get familiar with me.”

Y/N wasn’t the type to truly judge if you really needed her and he knew that. Hell, that was why he had come to her in the first place- but she was intimidatingly beautiful. It set him off to be even more nervous. His mind briefly wondered if this was how he was in bed- overthinking everything- maybe that was why he didn’t get calls back.

“Shit.” He muttered softly, then snapped back to attention as she told him to touch her. He wanted to do that, he had always wanted to but Y/N only really liked to be cuddled when drunk. When she was, she would be giggly and happy, hold on to his hand and swing them back and forth, especially when he helped her get into the car. It had always made him feel special, but this? It was a privilege to touch her. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms loosely around her, testing the waters. “Like this?” He spread his fingers out slightly on her back, his thumbs nearly brushing the bottom of her bra strap under her top.

“Yeah, that’s nice.” Leaning into him, she let her fingers run over the rims of his glasses. “These are cute. I like them.” His new glasses suited him. They were a little bit thinner than his old ones and it was a tad bit more modern. She hadn’t been lying to him when she said he had the hot n’ nerdy advantage. “You’ve got really nice hands, Har. Use them.”

He blushed slightly at the compliment on his glasses, his fingers tightening slightly on her waist possessively. "You really think?" He asked softly, tilting his head to the side to give her better access to his face. He liked when she did little things like that, adjusting his glasses or messing with his hair. Maybe it was because he felt touch starved, particularly from her, but the simple brushes of her fingers made him feel that heat in his lower stomach. It was so simple but the air felt a lot thicker than it had before. He took a deep breath, steeling his nerves to be more bold as he slowly dragged his hands over her hips.

“Mhm.” She nodded, gently running her nails over his scalp. “See? I’m not too scary.” Though she had to admit that the feeling of his big hands pawing at her and running over her hips and waist made her feel a little bit giddy. Maybe she could attribute it to the fact it really had been a while since she had been touched in a way that wasn’t friendly, but her body liked the way it felt. “You’re being polite, which is nice. But as cute as your little gentleman thing is, I know you want to grab my ass, Harry. You can do it.”

Harry's breath caught as she said that, his eyes darkening slightly behind his glasses. He had definitely been thinking about it, doubted there was anyone who saw it and didn’t want to, but he hadn't wanted to overstep. Hearing her give him permission was like a green light and he couldn't help himself. His hands squeezed her hips before slowly sliding down to grip her ass, his fingers spreading out to knead the soft flesh. "Fuck..." He muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse. "You're so soft."

His grip on her ass tightened reflexively as he pulled her more firmly against him, a low groan escaping his lips. The heat of her pressed deliciously against his hardening cock, and he couldn't help but roll his hips slightly, seeking friction. "Shit, Y/N...Sorry. I don't want to get carried away." He breathed, his face flushing darker. Here he was, rock hard with his best friend in his lap, from a little ass grab. It was embarrassing how quickly he had gotten worked up- But God, it felt good.

There was a sigh out of her mouth as she felt him start to relax and do what he wanted to do. This was closer to where she wanted him to get, but she hadn’t expected it to feel as good just being rubbed over his lap. “There you go- it’s okay.” She whispered. “That’s hot. You want to show her that you’re eager for her.” With her grip in his hair, she tugged his head back slightly to look at his pink cheek. “You’re a faster learner, I know. But you remember what I told you? Try kissing my neck. I told you the spots I like.”

His eyes fluttered shut as she tugged on his hair, his throat exposed to her. "Yeah. I can do it. S’long as you feel good, m’happy..." He whispered, his voice rougher than she had ever heard it. Leaning into her touch, he let her guide his face into her neck and followed instructions quickly to press open mouth kisses to her skin. He started at the spot just below her ear, as she had told him about, sucking gently on the soft skin. His hands continued to grab at her ass, pulling her flush against him as he kissed and sucked his way down her neck.

The kisses trailed lower, his lips hot and damp against her neck. Each press of his mouth made chills rise on her skin, his stubble lightly scratching her sensitive skin in the most delicious way. As he sucked gently on a particularly sweet spot, she couldn't help but tip her head to give him better access, a soft gasp escaping her lips. None of this had been expected, but liking his mouth on her skin hadn’t been. Maybe it really was just the fact it had been a while but… it felt better than her last hookup.

Harry was her friend and she trusted him. She felt safe, and that probably made her feel a lot more comfortable, just as it probably did for him. But having his hands all over her was something her whole body was responding to. A quick learner, he had realized how much she liked feeling the friction and did something about it. His strong hands gripped her ass harder, pulling her over his lap and letting feel the throb of him through their clothes.

He could feel her getting heavier in his lap, her breath growing shallow as he continued his adoration of her neck. It felt amazing, yes, but he was in a bit of awe. Harry really should have known that Y/N didn’t half ass anything. She was thorough in everything she did- apparently it extended to teaching him how to please a woman. His hands roamed freely as he adjusted, taking a risk in spreading her legs wider over his lap to better fit her between his thighs.

"Am I doing okay?" He mumbled into her neck, his voice muffled. "Is this warming you up enough? Or should I be doing more?" His fingers flexed on her hips before sliding down, spreading out to rest on her thighs.

“You’re doing good.” The thickness in her throat made her voice a bit raspier, unsure how she had managed to let herself get to this point. It felt really fucking good. His hands strong and so fucking big, splaying over her thighs. The heat of them seeming to radiate through her skin and down to her bones, she wanted to lean into that touch.

God, she was touch deprived.

He had done a good job in making her panties damp and it felt almost embarrassing that a little bit of heavy petting and kissing on the neck had her pussy throbbing, but she couldn’t exactly deny it. Lightly rubbing herself against him again to get more of the friction her body was demanding, she closed her eyes and let her head lean back before she admitted it to him. “You’re making me wet.”

His whole body seemed to tense up at her whispered admission, his hands flexing on her as he took a breath. "You are?" He whispered back, his voice not able to contain his surprise. He had hoped he was doing something right- especially after all the apparent failures he’d had- but hearing that she was wet from just his touch and kisses was... something else. He wasn't used to being this effective. His ego swelled slightly, making him bolder. "Can I... touch more?" He asked hesitantly, his fingers inching higher up her thighs. "Can I feel what I’m doing to you?"

His words had her gritting his teeth. Where the fuck did that come from, and why did it made her throb? Letting out a breath through her nose, she opened her eyes to look at him. It shocked her a little, seeing his lips swollen and eyes a little hazy, glasses a tiny bit crooked. He looked disheveled in a way he usually didn’t. Of course he had always been hot but this look in particular, knowing it was caused by her specifically? It fueled her ego too.

“Y-Yeah.” She nodded, clearing her throat. “Yeah, you can. That’s what I’d tell you to do next. You have good instincts.” It was a mystery to her how Harry, who was good at almost everything, had struggled to make a girl cum- but she was the teacher now. “You can slip your hand into the waistband.”

"Fuck. Thank you." Harry muttered under his breath. He couldn't believe he was actually about to touch Y/N intimately, after all these years of being just friends… It was insane. He wasn’t unable to see how insanely fucking hot she was, that had never been an issue. He’d had a few questionable wet dreams about her- but the actual idea of ever touching her hadn’t come up until recently, and he was liking it a bit more than he probably should be for a lesson.

With trembling fingers, he slowly slipped one large hand down the front of her joggers, sliding it along her stomach until he reached the top of her panties. "Can... can I? Under them?" His breath was warm against her neck as he asked permission, albeit a bit jumbled, waiting for her nod before slowly slipping under the final piece of fabric that kept him from her most intimate place.

At her nod, he released a deep breath through his nose. His heart was racing as he slowly pushed his hand under her panties, the back of his fingers brushing against the soft, damp fabric. He could feel the heat emanating from between her legs, his own body responded accordingly. His cock was pulsing in his briefs, surely starting to make a bit of a mess. "Holy shit." Harry breathed, his voice shaking slightly as he explored her with his hand. His fingers dipped lower, feeling the slickness coating her folds. “You really are fucking soaked.” Tilting his head up with an awed smile, he met her eyes. “I did that t’you?”

“Mhm.” It felt slightly harder to breathe as she looked at his eyes, seeing the pride in his face, feeling his fingers cupping her wet pussy and giving a little squeeze. It had her inhaling sharply, fingers on his shoulder digging into his shirt. “You did. I- I want you to show me what you do when you get to this stage with the girls you hook up with.” It was taking everything in her not to rock against his hand, staying still as she tried to ground herself.

His fingers trembled slightly as he tried to mimic what he thought he had seen in porn or heard from his friends. He had forgotten what to do. Another symptom of his damn nerves taking over. He roughly spread her lips apart, his thumb pressing against her clit as his middle finger pushed inside her soaked pussy. "Shit... I'm... I'm not really sure what to do..." He admitted, his voice shaking as he started to rub her clit in slightly sporadic circles while thrusting his finger inside her. It was clumsy and a bit rough, but he was trying his best.

“Okay- alright. Stop.” Making sure to keep her voice soft and not like she was scolding him, she held his face in her hands. “You’re jumping right into it a bit too fast, Honey.” The nickname fell from her lips a bit too easily but she decided to ignore that. “You need to ease into it. Find a rhythm. Pull your fingers out.” She instructed, gently stroking over his cheekbone. It was obvious he was embarrassed from his flushed cheeks, and she didn’t want that. He wasn’t doing too badly, but he’d asked for a lesson. That’s what she was going to give him.

“Hey… Look at me.” Tilting his chin up, she gave him a soft smile. “S’okay, Har. You came to me for help. I’m gonna help you. You didn’t do anything inherently wrong.” Still, she could see he felt some type of way about it, and she knew he needed a bit more comforting. Leaning in, her lips pressed against his in a soft peck. It was more intimate than it should have been, but she was again, going to ignore that. “Hi.” Smoothing the skin under his eye, she gave him a giggle. “Okay, so… You’ve got incredible hands. They’re so nice… and I know you can be good with them. So let’s start slow, okay? Do slow circles over my clit with your thumb. Nice n’gentle.”

His shoulders had dropped slightly after her small kiss, ignoring the flutter he’d felt in his chest from it. He hadn't realized how tense he had gotten, like he had failed the test- but this was Y/N. Y/N was safe, she was kind despite how blunt she was, and she was helping him. There was no evidence of her making fun of him in her tone, simply sweet. Unusual, maybe, but it seemed like she knew what she needed.

"Okay." He mumbled softly, his cheeks slightly less red. Her compliments helped a bit- He had always had confidence issues when it came to this. "Like this?" He asked shyly, his large thumb slowly making small, loose circles over her clit. He was careful to keep his touch gentle like she asked, watching her face for any signs that he was doing it wrong again.

He felt her body tense pleasantly at his touch, a soft exhale escaping her lips. Encouraged by her response, he maintained the slow circles, his thumb brushing over her clit with deliberate gentleness. Her hips gave a tiny involuntary roll against his hand, seeking more of the pleasant friction. Harry's fingers twitched slightly, wanting to increase his pace but remembering her instruction. He resisted the urge, keeping the rhythm maddeningly slow.

“Yeah. That’s so nice.” She whispered. It was experimenting, letting him explore and get the hang of it. “Every woman is different. Some people will want it faster, some will want it rougher, but I like this to start.” She admitted, leaning into him. “Here.” Dragging the cropped top off of her body, she exposed the lacy bralette she had heard good reviews for to him. It was quite nice, holding her tits up in a way she hasn’t expected- but she’d chosen correctly today, unknowing that a man would be able to see it firsthand. “When you’re doing this, you keep kissing her. Licking. Sucking her nipples, if she’s into it.”

His eyes roamed over her bralette-clad breasts, the delicate lace contrasting with her soft, smooth skin. He felt his mouth watering, the urge to taste her growing stronger as he watched them move as she breathed- but thankfully, thank god, she had given the go ahead to touch. To taste. "Okay. I definitely can do that." He murmured, his thumb continuing its slow circles on her clit as he leaned in to press open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone.

His lips trailed lower, his kisses growing more intentional. The lace of her bralette tickled his lips as he worked his way down. He could see her nipples hardening beneath the fabric, making his mouth water. His thumb continued its steady, slow rhythm on her clit, causing her to shift slightly in his lap. It was surreal to feel her breathing, hear it so close up as he kissed over her pounding heart.

He was doing this to her. Harry was making her wet, making her squirm. The confidence the breathy moan she let out had him pushing for more. With one hand, he gently pushed the lace down to expose one breast fully, making her gasp softly. His lips immediately found her hard nipple, surrounding it completely and sucking gently.

“Oh, Jesus.” The words were pathetically, a mewl that came from the back of her throat as his hot tongue lapped over her swollen nipple. The suction was light, soft, just like his thumb on her clit- and it was enough to make her feel like she was going insane. “T-That’s really fucking nice.” She praised, raising her hand to card it through his fluffy curls. He must have just washed them, they always looked pretty when he did.

Hearing her moan like that, praising him so freely, sent a jolt straight to his cock. He hummed around her nipple, the vibrations deliberate this time. His tongue flicked over the hardened bud before he switched to sucking harder, desperate to elicit another gorgeous noise from her.

“Yeah- like that.” Rocking her hips slightly into his hand, she pulled his head closed onto her breast. It felt too good, too hot to stop. Yeah, this was a lesson, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy teaching him. “Some girls won’t get much enjoyment out of this. Their nipples aren’t sensitive to it as much. If they aren’t responsive, you can keep it moving- or a-ask them if they want you to keep going.” Her voice was higher in pitch than she had meant for it to be but it wasn’t possible for her to control that right now. “I really like it, though. So it’s doing the job. You can rub my clit a little harder- give it more pressure.”

Her words had him nearly purring around her nipple. The little thrill went up his spine as her hips rolled into his hand, knowing that now he had a decent idea of what he was doing and could feel less nervous about it. Listening to instructions like he had promised he would, Harry added more pressure to his thumb, rubbing it harder over her little bundle of nerves. It was impossible not to feel her getting slicker against his palm, her breast filled his mouth perfectly, his tongue swirling around the peak before sucking it back between his lips. Almost overstimulation for his mind, but he wanted to keep going. He was trying his best to be good with his hands- he really was- But damn. Her body was so responsive.

Y/N wanted to continue this as long as she could. She wanted to feel him get more and more confident with it, but he seemed to have a grasp on it. There would probably be… a few times where they’d get to do this, and if she was honest? If they kept this up, she was going to cum and be too sensitive for his mouth. And by the way he kissed? She wanted to feel his mouth.

“Mmmm.. Har, Honey.” She whispered, gently tugging his mouth off of her tits with a gentle tug of his hair. “Hi. Hello.” It was stupidly cute, the slightly lost look on his face. “S’okay. You were doing good. A bit too good actually. I just think that we should get to teaching you how to eat pussy. I’ll cum if you keep going.”

He blinked rapidly, a slightly dazed look on his face as he tried to process why he’d been pulled away when he’d obviously been making her feel good. It felt incredible to have her nipple in his mouth, hearing her soft noises of pleasure. The haze of lust in his mind slowly cleared at her words, realizing she was probably right, even if he selfishly wanted to keep going. "Oh..." He murmured softly, a slight blush spreading across his cheeks. "Right. Okay." He adjusted his glasses, trying to regain some semblance of focus.

“Good.” She stroked his hair back with a tender smile, pulling him to kiss her again before taking a look at his face. “I’m gonna lay back, like this.” Sliding off his lap, Y/N settled against the arm of the couch pulling a pillow to rest her head on. The position had her sitting up slightly, but gave a more relaxed vision. Hopefully that would have him feeling calmer. “And you’re gonna lay between my legs once I get these off.” Her bottoms needed to get off immediately.

When he sat back, she tugged on the waistband and squirmed to get them off, haphazardly kicking them to the floor- along with her panties. There wasn’t much hesitance in showing her body to him. Y/N liked her body, she felt proud of it, and she embraced it. There was always those nerves though, being intimate with someone new- even if it was for a lesson. Spreading her thighs, she placed a hand over her cunt and motioned for him to lay down. “Do you remember what I said, Honey? About teasing?”

He nodded slowly, trying to remember all the instructions she had given him. "Tease first..." He murmured softly, adjusting his glasses nervously as he positioned himself between her thighs. Using his elbows to keep him up a bit, he swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched her spread them wider for his body to fit between. "Kiss, lick, don't go straight for the... the main event?" He asked hesitantly, his hands resting on her inner thighs.

“Very good.” Her face lit up as he looked at her for reassurance. “It’s the little things that get me. You know? The soft brushing of fingers on the thighs, the stomach, right above my pussy…” She trailed off with a sigh. “Kiss my thighs, Har. Can you do that for me?” Taking her hand off her cunt, she properly revealed it for the first time for his eyes to see.

Harry felt the breath catch in his throat as the sight of her bare pussy caught him off guard. It wasn’t lost on him that he was very lucky to be able to experience this. Y/N was beautiful and he adored her, but there was a new appreciation in him for how kind she was being. This wasn’t something you could just ask anyone. "Fuck..." He whispered, his hands squeezing her inner thighs gently as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to the delicate skin. "Like this?" He murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her sensitive skin, his lips brushing over the crease where her leg met her hip.

“Mhm.”

He could see her body relax into the touch, her thighs parting a bit more to give him better access. Her skin was so soft and warm under his lips, and he could smell her scent growing stronger the closer he got to her center. Harry took his time, pressing gentle kisses along her inner thighs, his hands brushing along the skin in a featherlight touch. He could hear her breathing growing a bit shallower, her chest rising and falling a bit faster. It emboldened him to continue, to keep teasing her like she had told him to.

"You're... you're doing so good." Y/N breathed out, one hand coming to rest in his hair as she spread her legs wider, hooking one over his shoulder. She could feel herself growing wetter with each kiss, more aroused knowing he was taking his time to learn her body. Such a good little student. "Lower. Just a bit..." she whispered, guiding his head with gentle fingers. Her other hand drifted down to her breast, plucking at her nipple as she watched him between her legs. "Kiss right above my cunt.”

Eagerly following her guidance, he moved up to press a soft kiss just above her pussy, his lips brushing against her soft curls. He could feel the heat radiating off of her, smell her arousal. It was intoxicating, and he found himself nuzzling into her a bit, his nose pressing against her. "Fuck, you smell so good..." he murmured, his voice muffled against her skin. He pressed another kiss right at the top of her slit.

“Oh fuck- that was good.” She gasped in surprise. “That’s filthy. Rubbing yourself against me but… it’s so hot. Showing how eager you are to make the person you’re gonna pleasure, it’s really sexy.” Brushing his hair out of his face, she felt the heat of his breath over her cunt. “Tell me you want to eat me out. Talk to me.”

"I do..." His voice came out huskier than he'd planned, his eyes flicking up to meet hers briefly before focusing back on her exposed pussy. "Fuck, Y/N... I really want t’taste you." Without waiting for further instruction, he used his fingers to spread her open for him and pressed a gentle kiss directly to her clit, making her gasp loudly. "You're so fucking wet… Can’t believe I did this." His finger traced down her slit slowly, as if showing instead of telling how aroused she was.

"Your cunt is fucking glistening. I can already tell your pussy is sweet..." He muttered against her skin, his tongue peeking out to give her one soft lick. Tasting her for the first time, savoring the flavor on his tongue, he was proving that fact. She was perfect to taste- a pussy like this deserved the best of the best, and he wanted her to show him exactly what she liked. Y/N moaned loudly, her hips rolling slightly, a clear indication that she liked what he was doing. "Yeah? You like that? S’good for you?" Harry asked, his voice encouraging as he licked her again, this time a bit slower, applying a bit more pressure.

“Uh-huh… Shit.” She cussed, feeling his tongue swipe up and over her clit. “D-Do what you want. Let me see where it’s going wrong because right now from my perspective, you’re doing perfectly.” Why would he even need help? Was it a ploy to fuck her? That was doubtful considering Harry really, really wasn’t like that. The worst part was that she was liking it a lot more than she was supposed to. If she was training him on how to pleasure how she liked it, it was going to be hard not to lose it.

Harry smiled slightly at her words, feeling a bit more confident in his actions. He started slowly, his tongue flicking out to lap at her gently, his fingers keeping her open for him to fully access her. He could feel her wetness spread onto his chin, and he couldn't help but push himself, wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking softly. He looked up at her, checking her face for any signs of discomfort or pleasure.

He was learning, trying to remember how she had said she liked it. His tongue swiped up again, swirling around her entrance slowly before pushing inside slightly. "Like this?" He mumbled softly, his chin wet with her juices. He kept his movements slow and unhurried, his touch soft. He was tentative, like he was scared of messing up. "Is this good?"

“I.. Normally would say that’s a bit fast to push your tongue in but fuck, that felt nice.” She giggled breathlessly. “Here…” Her fingers were careful as she took his glasses off and tossed them further down the couch so they wouldn’t get in the way- or worse, crushed. “Wanted to see those pretty eyes.” Her fingers kept the hair out of his eyes as she felt a few kisses over her mound, in the thatch of curls above her cunt. His face was slightly wet, but it was erotic. “That feels so nice. The kisses…” She hummed. “You have the instincts. Don’t think too much about it. Doing things like that- That’s good. Just make me feel good. See what I respond to.”

Harry blinked owlishly at her, surprised by the sudden loss of his glasses but pleased when he realized she liked his eyes. His face flushed slightly at the praise, his tongue darting out to lick over her clit hesitantly. "Okay. You’ll tell me if y’don’t like it, yeah?" He asked, his breath ghosting over her sensitive flesh. He leaned in, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her pussy, the sound drowning out the tv playing at a lowered volume.

She nodded slowly, watching him between her thighs. He was almost shy like this, his face buried in her pussy as he kissed around it sweetly. His lips were soft, his kisses unhurried. He spread her wider with his thumbs, his tongue poking out to give her one slow lick from bottom to top. Her hips shifted slightly, chasing the feeling. "You taste so good." He mumbled softly, his voice sending vibrations against her. “I didn’t expect you t’get so wet for me. Soaking my chin. I love it.”

His words seemed to have struck a chord in her, judging by how sharply her breath hitched and her legs involuntarily tried to press around his head. She visibly flustered, clearly flattered by his filthy compliments- and shocked. Had he always had that in him? "Harry..." She whimpered, the sound of his wet mouth against her flesh combined with his sweet, dirty words making her pulse against his tongue. "You... should be careful with that mouth." She whispered, her hand tangling in his hair again, guiding him slightly without putting any pressure.

He chuckled softly, the vibrations traveling pleasantly through her core. "Why's that?" He murmured teasingly against her skin, his tongue darting out for another long, slow lick. He could feel her practically melting under his mouth, her thighs quivering slightly. This was how it was supposed to be. Maybe it was because he didn’t feel as anxious with her, they had repor, he truly trusted her- but it felt like he had a better sense of her body and what she liked.

She’d given him clues and tips, but he was finding out on his own what she liked. It was something he was enjoying the longer he did it, feeling more eager to bury his face in her pretty pussy and never leave. Especially when he felt her hand tighten in his hair and her body shift to get more. "Worried I might make you cum too hard?" His tone was playful, a little more confident now, and that was dangerous for her. Feeling him nipp gently at her clit, soothing it with a flicker of his tongue immediately after was enough proof of that. Looking up at her he tried to see if that was okay, but the noise she let out had him feeling fairly sure it was.

"Fuck, Harry... You smartass.” The giggle turned into a pitched moan very quickly after though, her back arching as he sucked on her clit in retaliation, her hips rolling against his mouth. Harry could feel her getting closer, her pussy getting wetter. He knew the signs, she was teaching him. His hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her in place as he licked into her eagerly. She was so responsive, her body reacting to his every move. He felt powerful, in control- and it was a heady feeling.

"Jesus, your pussy is perfect." He mumbled between kisses, not caring if she could hear him. He could see her getting close- her thighs trembling, her breathing quickening, and the way her fingers were now tight in his hair. That was his goal. He wanted to make her cum so fucking bad it hurt. His cock was a mess in his trousers but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to make her cum, hard. He wanted to clean it up as he made himself messy. "Do you want my fingers inside you?" He whispered, not missing a beat with his mouth returning to his suckling. He kept the pace steady but increased the pressure just slightly, wanting to hear her response.

"Yes..." Y/N breathed out the single word, squirming helplessly against his face. His mouth felt incredible and he obviously felt better about what he was doing now, taking more risks that only worked out in her favor. "So good, honey. You’re doing so good, your mouth is perfect."

How had he been bad with these other women? All it took was a little bit of instruction with a soft voice and he was licking into her like she was his last fucking meal.

She gasped, her nails nearly digging into his scalp as he slipped one finger inside her easily. "Your fingers are so big. Holy shit..." She panted, grinding down on his hand. "More..." She begged, knowing damn well she hadn’t wanted to be this needy for it but god damn. He was a good student. A very fast learner. "Please." The woman’s voice cracked with need. "Harry, please..."

He curled his fingers slightly inside her, hitting that spot he’d read about but had never actually found on a woman before. He must be doing it right, because she was practically sobbing his name, her hips bucking against his hand. He added another finger, stretching her slowly but surely, his tongue never stopping its slow, deliberate lapping.

It was obvious what she liked, what made her feel good, and he wanted to keep doing it. Memorize it so he knew how to do it perfectly next time- or continue practicing until he had it down. His head felt fuzzy with the need to get her there, to make her feel hot under the skin like he had been clueless about before. "Look at me." he mumbled against her, his voice muffled but insistent. He wanted to see her face contort with pleasure, wanted to watch her get closer.

It felt like her entire world had narrowed down to his fingers inside her and his tongue on her clit. It really had been far too long since she’d been touched and even longer since she had been eaten out with this amount of vigor. Maybe it hadn’t ever happened prior to him, but her brain wasn’t fully working. She was so close, teetering on the edge and he just... he just kept pushing her. Adding more, curling just right, licking and sucking in a rhythm that seemed designed to drive her insane.

Y/‘ couldn’t see him fully, not with his face buried smugly between her thighs, but she managed to lift her head, her eyes finding his own as he had demanded. The intensity in his gaze, the desperate need, it was too much. “Just like that, you’re going t’make me cum. Just like that, keep it like that- fuck.” Her groan seemed angry but it was anything but. She was worked over and sulking at how good it felt. “Shit, you love eating pussy. Don’t you, Harry? Just needed s-someone to show you how they like it.”

"Fuck yeah." He breathed against her, his eyelids drooping with pleasure at her accusation. He loved this, every fucking second. The slick sounds of her arousal, the way her pussy clenched around his fingers, the taste, how she grabbed at his hair, the sounds she made, the changes in her breathing, her squirming, the way her words slurred a little bit, the pulsing against his tongue.

God. Harry fucking loved it- he just didn’t know it could be this good. Addicting.

The vibrations as he groaned happily between her lips had to be adding something extra. "Knew I'd love it. Jus’ want to be able to make you feel good."

"Cum on my face baby, okay? Just let go. I wanna taste you." He whispered hoarsely, pressing a sloppy kiss to her clit before sucking it back into his mouth. His fingers curled again and again inside her, hitting that elusive spot over and over as she dripped all over his fingers and down the back of his hand. He wanted to make her shatter, wanted to feel her cum all over his face and fingers like he had been working toward.

There was no way she could even respond properly. The constant stimulation to her g-spot, his repeated sucking on her clit, the way he sloppily ate her cunt with little regard of the mess she was making on his face- the only thing he seemed to give a fuck about was making her cum. Who was she to take that from him?

Her body tensed, her back arching as she let out a long, drawn-out moan. It was a sound of pure pleasure, her entire being focused on the overwhelming sensation of him working her over. She came hard, her pussy clamping down on his fingers as she gushed all over his face and hand. Her hand was tight in his locks, tugging as a garbled moan left her mouth and she attempted to writhe. He kept her held still as he moaned loudly against her.

In fact, Harry didn’t stop. Even as she came, he kept eating her, his fingers still curled inside her as he lapped up her cum, cleaning her up. He was fucking starving for it, for the taste and the sound and the feeling of her losing control. He sucked and licked her pussy, feeling it spasming occasionally, until he was certain he had cleaned up every last drop- And her weak push of her hand against his head. Only then did he slowly pull his fingers out, his face and hand coated in her.

She was a goddess, slumped back against the cushions with a flushed, dazed expression. Harry couldn't help but kiss her inner thigh as it twitched before wiping his mouth. "Fuck, you’re amazing." The man murmured. Crawling up her body, he claimed her lips in a messy kiss, letting her taste herself. “Thank you.” It was mumbled between lazy kisses. “Thank you, Thank you.”

His hands roamed over her as he continued to kiss her sloppily, his body heavy on top of hers. He was still fully dressed, his erection painfully trapped in his pants. "Y/N... I’m sorry, but can I?" He asked softly, his fingers already working at the button of his jeans, his intent clear. "I gotta cum. Can I cum on your cunt? Please?” If he wasn’t so horny he would be embarrassed for doing this, but he was losing it. When it died down, he would definitely be embarrassed for how insane he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. Maybe the lack of blood flow to the head, it was going directly to the other.

“Shit.” Y/N laughed weakly, her body feeling like pins and needles as it came down from the orgasm. The idea was one she had considered, especially with how good he had listened- a reward. “Yeah, Honey. As a reward.” She sighed, leaning her head up further. “I wanna watch.”

He almost whined at her words, practically tearing his jeans open wide enough to pull out his stiff cock. He pushed his pants down towards his calves, staying there between her spread legs. His hand gripped his dick tightly, squeezing as he looked up at her face from his spot between her legs. "Yeah- yeah, please watch. I love being watched.” His hips moved forward unconsciously as he ran his cock over her, the head of his dick smearing pre-cum all over her cunt.

“Cute little exhibitionist.” Y/N cooed, running her hand over her stomach. “Go ahead. You’ve got such a pretty cock, but it looks like it hurts.” Her lips formed a soft pout. “Stroke yourself and cum all over that pussy, Harry.”

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He chanted under his breath, his hand moving faster over his shaft. With his tip pressing against her clit, he ran it up and down her slit. "You're so pretty. Your cunt is beautiful- all of you, so fucking gorgeous." He complimented her, his words coming out in short gasps. It was so hot, the way her lips spread around him, how she looked all fucked out and messy from his mouth. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum all over you, baby."

Y/N looked up at him with a soft, encouraging smile, her eyes staring into his with that tinge of desire. "Cum for me, Harry. Cum all over my pretty little pussy. I wanna see it, I wanna see you lose it." Her hand moved down to spread herself, holding herself open for him. "You've been so good, so obedient. You deserve it. Such a good student, a fast learner… You can have it. Cum on my cunt." Her voice was gentle but commanding, the perfect blend of sweet and dirty that had him right on the edge.

"Fuck, Y/N..." Harry whimpered, his eyes fluttering shut as her words pushed him over the edge. With a final thrust of his hips, he came undone. He felt the first spurt of his hot, sticky cum hit her pussy lips, coating them in his release. He groaned loudly, his body shuddering as he pumped out rope after rope of cum, covering her cunt completely. "Oh my god... Oh my god."

Even as he finished cumming, a few last spurts dribbling out to make a mess across her lower stomach, he couldn't look away from where his cum coated her pussy lips, right in her thatch curls and the surrounding skin. It was obscene, filthy, and he loved it. Y/N had made him lose his mind a bit, but he didn’t really want to find it.

Breathing heavily, he finally met her gaze with a slightly embarrassed but mostly pleased grin. "Holy fuck, that was hot." He murmured, swallowing hard. "Never done that before. Came so fucking hard..."

"Good, cause you made a mess." She giggled, watching him as his chest heaved. The sight of his stomach and abs glistened with a light sheen of sweat- his hair was ruffled and he looked like he’d had a workout instead of jerking off on her body. "You like that, I think. Making a mess." She asked softly, watching as he continued to stroke himself slowly, milking himself. Her eyes were drawn back to his dick. It really was beautiful- and really fucking big. “Where the hell were you hiding that? God damn.”

He couldn't help but chuckle at her comment, glancing down at his slowly softening dick with a smirk. "Guess I just needed the right inspiration, huh?" He teased lightly, finally releasing his grip on himself and leaning forward to rest his forearms on either side of her head, caging her in slightly. His face was mere inches from hers now, his glasses gone and his hair disheveled in the sexiest way possible. “Just need t’do this before we clean up and act normal again. Don’t yell at me.”

His mouth claimed hers slowly, lips moving softly against hers. He licked into her mouth slowly, like he was savoring her taste, his body half covering hers. His hand cupped her cheek as he deepened the kiss slowly, like he was trying to imprint himself onto her. Just as quick as it started though, it was over. She shouldn’t have been so sad about that. He pulled back slowly, his forehead resting against hers. His eyes opened slowly to find her watching him softly, their lips still wet and swollen from the kiss. He grinned slightly, licking his lips again. “See? Not so bad.”

“Yeah.” She laughed, feeling dazed. Who the fuck was this? And why did he kiss so good it made her toes curl? Who was this and what had they done to her best friend? “I think your problem isn’t that you don’t have skill. Naturally you seem to get it. I think you’ve just gotten into your own head and you think too much.” She had been a safe person and it was easier for him to lose that anxiety with her, knowing she had already agreed to teach him.

“It can be hard to perform if you’re not able to properly get into it. Your dick can be hard as nails, but your mind not being in it will be a mood killer and they’re gonna know.” The smile on her face was slightly sad but she knew it was what he had to hear. “Because honestly? I haven’t orgasmed like that in ages. All it took was a few tweaks and you had it down. Maybe you just aren’t a hookup guy. Did that feel a lot different than the other people?” Maybe he needed someone who could openly communicate. The expectation of someone just knowing wasn’t always fair.

"Yeah." He hesitated, shifting slightly to prop himself up on one elbow next to her. His other hand traced patterns on her stomach absentmindedly. "It was... different." He seemed to struggle with the words for a moment. "With those other girls, I was always nervous. Overthinking every single fucking thing. Like you said." He glanced at her face, a slight blush forming across his cheeks. "With you... it felt natural. Real. And fuck, listening to you moan like that… Where did those lungs come from?"

“You freak!” She laughed, pushing his shoulder to get him to sit up. Adjusting her bralette back over her breasts she didn’t bother with the bottoms yet, because she really needed to go clean up. Secretly she was pleased that she had been different. It was so cliche to say it, but she wanted to be different than them. She just… wasn’t quite sure why yet. Her brain hadn’t come back down to earth fully and she couldn’t be bothered to truly question it. “You won’t need many lessons on how to pleasure a woman with results like that, I’m telling you that. Good job.” Reaching out, she squished his cheeks with a soft coo before he shot her a look.

"Oi!" He laughed, swatting her hand away playfully but with a big smile on his face. "Don't treat me like a puppy. And..." He hesitated, reaching up to cup her face gently, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "Did it really feel that good? I mean." His voice dropped to a slightly embarrassed whisper. "Am I actually good at this stuff?" For someone who had just made her orgasm so hard, he suddenly seemed insecure again. Like he needed validation. "I know you don’t lie like that, but it just feels weird. Cause everyone else seemed disappointed… I thought I’d be completely awful.”

“Oh, H.” She frowned at his vulnerability. “It was really good for me. I think maybe you just need some lessons on how to let go and relax when you’re being intimate. And I’m happy to teach you that.” Brushing her hand over his stubble she gave his chin a pinch. “Trust me. I’d tell you if you needed a lot of work. It can be hard for women to cum from oral sometimes too. It’s hit or miss for me, and you had me cumming so easily so, I would say it was probably a mix of feeling safe and you having some good natural instincts you couldn’t tap into before because you were anxious and your brain was in overdrive.” Pulling him into a hug, she squeezed him lightly as she inhaled his scent. He smelled like mint and sex, with a tinge of laundry detergent. Appropriate.

“When I’m done with you, we’ll have it all squared away and figured out. Okay? Don’t think about those times. Think about the fact you’re gonna get to fuck your really hot best friend.” Standing up from the couch with a laugh and a pat to his head, she walked to the bathroom to get herself clean- and take a minute to breathe. Her chest was doing a weird thing it hadn’t before and she didn’t want to think about it. “Hey, can you order something from that cookie place to be delivered while I shower please? Use my phone, my card is already in the app. Thank youuuu.”

He watched her leave, a small smile on his face at her words. It was a relief to hear that he wasn't completely incompetent. Flopping back against the cushions, he stared at her ceiling fan as it whirred around with a content sigh.

As requested, he ordered a batch of her favorite cookies from the nearby bakery, adding a special request for extra chocolate chips with a small chuckle. She had ordered quite a few times recently, so he had tried to replicate it while adding white choc macadamia for himself. A classic, even if Y/N would wrinkle her nose for them sharing a box.

After submitting it for the delivery, he found himself humming softly, a warmth spreading through his chest at the thought of learning more from her. That had been so good, he felt so relieved that he wasn’t defective- but he did have to wonder how he was going to be this comfortable with anyone else. Y/N was easy to unwind around. It was hard to imagine him getting as comfortable with anyone else in the way he was with her.

Getting closer to her in a vulnerable and intimate way was sure to grow their friendship. He couldn’t really see it backfiring. Their friendship was too strong.

Right?

281 notes · View notes

coconutdays · 14 hours ago

Text

she don't love me

s. you come back home after spending a year away from your friends, suguru geto among them. and you think you've gotten over your suppressed feelings for him, you think

w.c. 11.2k

w. fem! reader, kickboxer/business student!geto! x reader , mutual pining! friends to lovers! fluff!, smut! virginity loss! (but it's not that big of a deal, you'll see why) masturbation!

a/n: ummmmmm I thought about this while watching a suguru edit. this is a little slowburn, but not painful I think idk I stayed up to finish this. will proofread later I need sleep. mwah hope you like.

you are beat up the first morning you wake up in your home after spending a year abroad.

your head is pounding, the light is agonizing to stare into, and your back is tense after spending the last 24 hours running around with the fattest luggage on earth, sleeping on stiff airport lounge seats, and sleeping on the stiff plane seats, or at least trying to.

buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz

fuck's sake

"let me sleep, let me sleep, let me sleep." you groan painfully into your bed, body short circuiting on the jet lag and reminiscing on the peaceful sleep you were just having.

buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz

"oh my-"

knock-knock

your head whirs up and looks towards where the door to your apartment would be outside of your room. and you hear a faint, familiar voice calling out your name cheekily.

exhausted, you get up and out of bed to open the door.

"as much as I missed you guys, I just traveled across the world and my body is still recovering..."you groan, walking to your couch and flopping onto it, eyes still a bit puffy.

"my body too would also miss the crisp baguettes and wine for breakfasts," gojo slyly comments as he slides into your apartment with one step and plops into your--small--beanbag, his legs poke out comically while he inhabits the light pink ball of foam.

a light whiff of cigarette smoke and cherries inhabit your room too when shoko throws a warm? bag on your back and picks up your legs so she can sit underneath them.

"I told him you wouldn't want people at your door this early." she sighed aloofly.

"nothing a breakfast bagel can't fix." gojo snickers

you finally open your eyes and sit straight up, digging into the brown paper bag that was once on your back

"or two." he adds, watching with a smirk as you take a hearty bite out of the first bagel

when you gulp it down and clear your throat, you point a finger at him then to your suitcase in the corner of the room, "there are four boxes of pierre herme macaroons in there with your name written all over them."

"aw you thought about me."

"yeah I really do," you speak gruffly between heavenly bites, "paris doesn't make this shit."

"there's no bagels in Paris?" shoko tilts her head, a blank look in her eyes

"shut up, you know what I mean." you almost moan, faintly rolling your eyes back in pure bliss before forming a realizing thought and turning to gojo, "did you come here this early for your macarons gojo satoru????"

his smile is blank and so are his eyes, you can tell, even through his stupid glasses.

"eat that second bagel, why don't you, my favorite friend who I've missed so dearly."

right before a slight scowl forms on your face, shoko interjects.

"he did cry when nobody else wanted to drink the nth pornstar martini with him at the function the other day."

"hey!"

you giggle a little and feel your sleepiness and grumpy mood fading away. (thank you gojo's breakfast bagels and shoko's disrespect)

"no need to worry anymore babygirl, daddy's home." you smile, lazily hugging the armrest of your couch

gojo huffs and puts a hand close to your face, "I saw your stories unfaithful slut, those cheese fiends were matching your freak, with espresso martinis of all things."

"but did I ever drink a pornstar martini without you?" you poke back, slapping his hand away

you can tell gojo is thinking and has been left speechless, but just as much as he's a victim to shoko, so are you.

"that she posteddddd."

"you guys are not allowed to wake me up this early and bully me, either of you," you state as you jump up and address the both of them before heading to your fridge to serve yourself some water.

"anyways, where's suguru?"

"training." shoko answers airily as her head lolls onto the armrest.

"he's been super focused lately right? I think he deactivated his instagram like the first month of me being in France."

you remember feeling bummed out every time you posted a pretty picture and never saw him in your views.

"that's an understatement," satoru scoffed snarkily, "I do not understand such a dedication to kickboxing when he's deadset on business."

"can't a guy have hobbies?" shoko questions, not at all seemingly bothered by Geto's dedication to sport such as satoru is.

"you guys want coffee?" you ask, about to turn your back to turn on ur espresso machine.

"yes," gojo says before adding a quick, "but from the cafe two blocks from here."

eyes squinted, you turn again and lean against your kitchen countertop, "I literally have a coffee machine."

"you drink that pretentious small espresso shot crap, weirdo, I don't want that"

"okay but I can just pour milk for yours?"

"I doubt you can make an iced vanilla biscoff latte here." he scoffs

"satoruuuuuu~" you whine, exhaling as you stare up at your ceiling, "I have to wash my face and get ready! I wasn't mentally prepared for that."

"I'll buy you a pistachio matcha latte," he grins, toothy and sharp, "with that creamy oatmilk you like that's an extra 2 dollars."

"I missed you and your bank account so, so much," you say whole heartedly, sending him quick air kiss of appreciation with your middle and index finger as you trot into your bathroom to start getting ready.

on the walk to the cafe, you fight and try to suppress the wondering your conscious has for suguru geto.

you're friends, have been since your freshman year of college, and that's all you have been. there's always been a feeling there in regards to him, but you've never touched on it for more than you've thought about it (repeatedly.) you just couldn't bring yourself to break that peaceful friendship or to even think about crossing it.

sure you noticed the day he deactivated his socials.

sure you like wearing his hoodie/jackets and acting like nothing of it.

but it's not like you took up the scholarship offer in Paris because maybe your favorite city in the world could distract you from hoping he'd ever flirt with you.

it did

"oh is that the rock climber?" shoko asks as she peers over your shoulder and onto your phone.

"indeed it is," you mutter cheekily as you answer the French fling's text, "he thought I was leaving tomorrow instead of yesterday, lmao"

"no goodbye sex?"

"fingering me is hardly sex," you look at her with a side eye

"woah, couldn't get over the 50/50 thing after all huh?"

"never," you sighed, putting your phone back in your pocket, "the least he could do was service me a little with a few orgasms after I had to pay for my own drinks."

"so who did you fuck?" satoru interjected, visibly curious as he stood in line with you guys and simultaneously read the coffee menu for any new sugary drinks

"nobody," you sighed, "didn't feel like anyone was worthy losing my card to."

but all this and here you are, shoving thoughts of him to the back of your mind. it's all become so natural that compressing any thought of geto isn't an overthought process anymore. you've forced yourself to become near careless about him, silencing the voice that cares every minute of every day. you don't know if you're in love with him or containing a small crush on him, that's how scared you are.

"understandable," satoru reasons, whilst picking his phone out of his pocket to read something.

"hey, look at that, haibara wants us all to come for drinks at his place tonight," blue eyes sparkle at you from beneath his glasses that he's purposely let slide downwards, "you know he makes the best lychee and passionfruit martinis."

"and dirty martinis." shoko pipes in

both you and gojo stare at her in slight disgust before he returns to giving you his puppy face.

"as long as there's a ride home involved, I hate sleeping at other people's places."

satoru stands straight up in glee and claps his fingers together, "great! don't worry about that, suguru doesn't drink anymore because of how uptight he's been lately."

the whole day becomes hang out with satoru and shoko day after that. you can't exactly go home by the time you're done with your matcha latte and your stomach starts rumbling for lunch, especially when trust fund baby satoru offers to pay for lunch. then he drags you both into a museum he's been wanting to see, and suddenly it's nearing sundown and it's time for dinner.

"let's go buy pizzas for haibara!" satoru exclaims with a pep in his step as he leads the way for you and shoko to follow after him.

when you get to haibara's apartment, everyone's already there.

various chimes of your name are said as you begin to greet everyone after being away for so long.

utahime hugs you particularly tight and fusses over you, "thank god you're back, you look so beautiful, shoko's too careless to have conversations with sometimes."

fearing your friend would be offended, your mouth open and closes, unable to figure out what to say until you turn to look at her sleazed on the couch and already lighting a cig.

"it's true," she shrugs

"I'm glad to see you too hime." you smile, embracing her in the hug again.

you hear a familiar voice speak when you let go of the embrace

"there wasn't really anything for me to wear haibara, had to settle for this shirt."

geto stands at the door to haibara's bedroom, one hand up and holding onto the frame as he calmly peers down at his shirt and then to the owner of it.

why was he wearing haibara's shirt? and why does it look so...

and suddenly he's looking at you, eyes softening just a bit as he greets you by your name and starts to walk towards you.

you'd imagined, hoped seeing him again would warrant more excitement from him, but no he's still the same calm and collected guy he's always been.

"suguru" you smile, ignoring the way your heart races at the side hug he gives you

well, his body isn't the same. god, how often has he been training? you didn't know his arms could be that veiny.

"satoru texted me that you've been with him and shoko all day." he starts, lips only slightly, minisculely turned upwards as a way of being polite towards your presence.

"since eight in the morning." you sigh, looking over at the freakishly tall giant already breaking into one of the many pizza boxes he bought.

"he missed you." suguru looks at his best friend too, making a face of disgust for a moment when satoru finishes a pizza in two bites.

"I missed him too," you breathe, smiling a little, "wallet or no wallet."

that makes suguru laugh and you're so thankful tails evolutioned off of humans or else you'd have a hard time controlling the urge to wag it back and forth at the reward that was making geto suguru laugh.

"I missed you." he says once his laugh falters away

"me too." you respond, fighting the awkward and terrible pit in your stomach

did he really miss you? miss you? how much did that mean for him?

it doesn't seem like a lot because he gives you a small grin before walking towards shoko and striking up a conversation with her. and gojo hithers you to him from across the room to start drinking your first martini of the night.

you've forgotten how drunk you get with gojo.

your vision is tunneled and you dont know what time it is or what is even what.

"oh brother." you groan, stabilizing yourself on the kitchen countertop. you had gotten up from being sprawled on gojo's back on the floor because you wanted a slice of pizza and the journey seemed quite treacherous now. so far, yet so close. you just had to open that pizza box.

until a hand made its way into your vision, opening the box, getting a slice, and offering it up to you. its a pretty hand, a silver ring on the index finger, veins running up it and onto the arms

of suguru

he's smiling fondly at you

"hungry?" he asks in amusement

"yes, thank you." you gulp, otherwise unable to show how flustered you are due to the immense alcohol in your system and insatiable hunger.

once you take the slice from him, geto begins to slide a chair out and helps you land on it considering it was a little high.

he sits across from you on the kitchen island.

"parmesan?" he has the bottle in hand, jeering it to you

"mhm" is all you can say through a muffled mouth and take the parmesan bottle for yourself.

"is this anything like the pizza over there?" he asks again in amusement

"no," you shake your head gruffly, almost groaning from how wonderful the taste is on your inebriated mouth, "but I can appreciate this right now."

you feel as if you've finished your pizza far too soon, knowing that the part of you that's embarrassed is subdued and screaming that you've been far unladylike in front of suguru, who eyed satoru so disapprovingly when he did it.

suddenly,

"you have some..." suguru leans over just a smidge and brushes your cheek with his thumb, "...parmesan dust."

"oh," you try to keep your jaw closed amid the surprise of his actions, "thank you."

"you want another slice?" he nudges his head in the direction of the box next to him, eyes innocently waiting for a response.

he sees you open and close your mouth again, hesitant on a response before he decides for you and gets you another slice.

"you need something else in your stomach to keep the martinis some company." he smiles a little and motions for you to look at the plastered satoru on the floor, "he's done already, so don't worry."

"thank you." you almost pout as an appreciation to his mercy and figure you should ask what was on your mind earlier, after chewing and swallowing a bite gracefully. you were going to be more conscious of this second slice.

"why are you wearing one of haibara's shirts by the way?"

"Oh," his eyebrows only raise a little and he looks down at the extra tight black shirt, "he was trying to imitate those street vendors that make slushies out of regular soda before you three got here."

"and haibara being him, I figure somewhere along the lines it erupted all over you." you giggled a little, imagining the mess

"that you are correct." geto smizes. he then looks around to the various bodies thrown across the room and zones in onto the floor.

"are you ready to go now satoru?" he asks, one brow quirked up, wondering if his best friend heard him or not.

you turn a little to look at him too and he only turns his face so that his cheek is resting against the floor.

"I don't think I'm even ready to get up," he grumbles, "you guys can go without me, I'm fine right here for the night."

feeling alert already at the idea of being alone with geto, you ask satoru if he's sure

"your back is going to hurt a lot in the morning Toru." you plead internally

"don'ttttttt careeee." he burbles

you're about to open your mouth to urge him again, but suguru gets up and nudges your arm lightly, keys already in hand, "don't worry about satoru, he doesn't have anything important tomorrow anyways."

then his hand is reached out towards you, probably to help stabilize you as you get off the ridiculously tall chair.

hazily, you take it and start to follow him out of the apartment and to the parking lot

his back looks really good in that shirt, you note. every muscle is carefully outlined, every movement of his being emphasized.

"hey," he turns his head over his shoulder to peer down at you, "why're you back there."

suguru then reaches a hand behind your back lightly and motions you to walk in front of him.

"oh, my bad," you murmur, having been snapped back into reality.

the rest of the walk to his car is quiet. and when you get there, suguru's leading you to the passenger seat, opening the door for you, and leaning in to buckle you in without even asking if you could do it.

when he starts the car, you see the time on his front screen.

3:43

"oh my god," you gape at the time, then look at geto while he starts to back out.

one hand on the back of your seat.

"hm?"

and that's all it takes for you to resume what you were going to originally say, finding all the scattered gibberish in your brain to form and communicate the thought.

"weren't you telling utahime that you had to get up early for training? it's so late..." you point at the time

"I do," he shrugged, eyes on the emerging road

"I'm sorry," you lightly pout in guilt

suguru gives you a quick once over and he grins so faintly, "I don't mind."

"let me send you money for a coffee or something." you turn in your seat to look at him pleadingly, eyes scanning him for any hint of resentment

he laughs

"I'm flattered," he smirks, amusement lingering in his tone, "but I'm not taking your money."

you slump in your seat at the rejected offer before you remember something and quirk up in your seat a little

"at least let me give you the gift I got you when we get to my place?"

"sounds like the perfect exchange." he nods

when you wake up, its 1 p.m. and you're surprised you slept through the many alarms on your phone.

you remember everything from the night before and you're not hungover, thank god.

you reminisce on the moments you shared with suguru, even the ones you're embarrassed about.

"arghhh why did I force him to walk all the way up for his gift," you groan into your pillow, "wasted like fifteen more minutes of his time."

a small shriek leaves you as you headbutt yourself on the bed, "why did I do that."

its been about a week and a half since haibara's hang out. which has given you enough time to finally get used to being back home. you reorganized your place to accommodate for all the trinkets and decor you brought from Europe and cleaned out your closet.

you finished everything in time for your hangout with satoru

"Hey Toru." you lean down to give him a quick hug from where he's seated snugly, slurping on a sundae

and suguru

"hey." you breathe, not gulping when he gets up and hugs you to greet you.

when you sit down, you notice your heart is racing and your breathing is just a bit labored

probably the long walk over

"we got you strawberry mochi and a matcha latte," gojo mutters through the straw he's still slurping on, eyes zoned in on particularly nowhere? on the table in front of you all.

never separate this man from his sweets...

"oh thank you satoru." you say appreciatively, happy he thought of you

"thank suguru," he mutters back, "he paid."

your eyes drift to suguru, who smiles unphased, and lifts a hand up to minimize the gesture of paying for you, "satoru knew your order already, I just offered to pay."

"oh," you try not seem too disappointed that he didn't go out of his way to know your order, "well, still, thank you."

"it's no problem." he settled back into his seat comfortably

"didn't offer to pay for my sundae." satoru rolled his eyes

geto's eyes creased a little, as if internally smiling, and said, "didn't you eat out almost a third of my fridge yesterday?"

"whatever," satoru rolled his eyes, "buy me a second sundae then, im already finishing this one up."

"I'm not familiar with anything you've just said. are you feeling light-headed?"

"oh puh-lease," satoru starts to nag, "you can hear me just fine. stop acting like an idiot."

suguru fakes a look of confusion and concern, which makes satoru bolt up out of his seat and start heading towards the door to enter the parlor. and you're pretty sure you hear him say something about taking a bite out of your mochi when you're not looking.

the idiocy makes you giggle a little and you don't notice when suguru turns his head from looking over at a grumpy satoru to you, a slight upturn of his lip at being able to make you laugh.

flash!

after a blinding white light attacks your eyes, you're met with five schoolgirls, all with their phones out.

you'd think they'd be ashamed but?

"you guys are going on my Pinterest!" one giggles

another one is laughing almost as if she's on a sugar rush, very manically, "I hope my boyfriend is as hot as him one day. oh my god. aha aha ahahahahah!"

"you're so so so pretty." a ditsy one with a valley accent deadpans, nearing your face and making immense eye contact, "I know that you guys have the hottest sex."

your jaw drops and you look at suguru in shock, embarrassment out the door at being a coupe and more surprised by the actual words these teenagers are spilling out.

suguru's no better, no other movement on his face except for his raised eyebrows and wide eyes.

the ditsy one speaks again before they start to trail off, "I'm using you as hairspo for my next hair appointment."

and it goes in one ear and out the other because your mind is still stuck on the, 'I know that you guys have the hottest sex.'

what the fuck? what kind of crap was she imagining?

what was she thinking about?

hottest sex?

like flashbacks that never happened, vivid images of you on your knees and suguru drilling into you from behind play in your mind quickly.

he's so big in person and the thought is so palpable when he's next to you...

stop!

you feel your cheeks heating up and a shiver runs up your back.

you try to laugh to brush it all off, "they were probably high or something. or just really really extroverted..."

the tips of suguru's ears are the slightest pink as he finally makes eye contact with you.

"yeah," he breathes, "without a doubt."

"what were those schoolgirls yappin about?" satoru asks, a bit careless, as he plops back into his seat, a new sundae in hand

"nothing."

satoru glares a little at the both of you, his brow quirked up a little, "yeah sure."

you're shopping later at the mall with the both of them, a slight awkwardness between you and suguru that the both of you cover up by only really interacting with satoru and not the other unless satoru was involved in the interaction.

satoru is drowning in what looks like eight bags of clothes when he halts your walking and jeers his head towards the store next to him.

Victoria's Secret

"Didn't you come with us so you could buy new stuff here?"

Yes you had.

But that was before a group of teenagers made you feel awkward about discussing/associating anything nearing sex with suguru now.

"yeah..." you try not to stutter as you start to walk in

god, satoru is so unabashed and careless that he's going to accompany you too. and if satoru goes in, so does suguru. if suguru didn't want to, he would surely have to right now or else satoru would question him.

you know what, maybe suguru isn't overthinking it like you are. surely he isn't clinging on to the idea of sex with you.

yes, exactly.

bracing yourself, you walk into the store, pick up a bag, and ready yourself to start filling it up.

you've forgotten about your awkwardness with suguru after a while of being amazed by all the pretty options in front of you

and satoru, for the most part, is quite mature in this store.

for the most part...

"ha, look at those," he points at a mannequin wearing crotchless panties and at the same panties decorating the table beneath it, "get them."

disgruntled and rolling your eyes, you respond, "yeah sure when I'm getting screwed."

"girls wear lingerie for themselves you know."

"yeah I know," you huff, "and I do. but I can wear crotch on lingerie under my clothes. that's just plain old porn panties for not single people."

"you're such a debbie downer," he groans, "if I were a girl, id wear those with or without out a man."

"well, im a girl and you're not so." you say in a sing song voice as you check out a bra in your hands and toss it into your shopping bag.

"wait where's suguru?" gojo says, having noticed that his best friend's presence was quiet.

and that was all it merely was because suguru was scrolling through his phone, seemingly unphased by the store, paying no attention to what you and satoru were looking at.

"oh." gojo shrugs before he moves on to checking out more underwear with you.

and he spots a particularly cute set of babydoll's that you've grown enamored with, staring at all of them.

"those are very cute," your white-haired friend says

"and very expensive," you whine, having seen the price tag on one of them, "I don't know which one I want to take home."

"hm," satoru whirls around and looks between the mannequin wearing the see through pink one and the see through baby blue one.

"hey suguru." he calls out

suguru looks up from his phone and is slightly confused by where satoru's standing.

satoru has his chin in his hand, "which one do you think would look better on her."

suguru faintly gulps and quickly regains his normal calm confidence, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

"whichever one she'd feel the best in." his eyes smile for him

"oh don't be a prude," satoru gags before pestering him again, "really, pick one."

"why don't you pick satoru?"

"because I think both are too pretty." his eyes gleam, staring at both of the babydolls in question

suguru sighs then looks at you, who so happens to already be eyeing him down, eyes wide for a response.

"the pink one." he mutters quickly, eyes immediately darting away.

there's a loud sigh of relief from satoru when suguru finally makes a decision and you pick up the pink one sitting at the table.

"I think that's all for me," you breathe, skimming over the rest of the store quickly.

and before you make your way to the register line, you stop near suguru

"thank you sugu."

it's a Friday night that you've got all yourself the next month following the incident with those girls and suguru.

you've shaved, washed and blow dried your hair, did a thorough skincare routine, and put on the babydoll you bought last month.

you feel hot and have plans...in mind.

you've seen a little bit of stuff on twitter just for a spur

and there you are, sitting on your dildo, cheeks heated as you sit up and down on it.

you're unabashedly thinking about suguru.

truth be told, you haven't been able to get him off your mind since those schoolgirls planted the thought of that hot sex with him.

he's just so big and lean.

god

you remember satoru making you go with him to pester suguru while he worked out, considering his gym was next to his apartment complex and he had agreed to invite you both and shoko for a watch party of the scream movies that day.

he looked mad when he trained on his kickboxing, eyebrows furrowed and eyes dark on whatever he was taking out his strikes on.

you figured he'd make a similar face beating your pussy up.

that same trail of sweat making its way down his spine. thigh veins twitching all the same at the force he'd use on you.

"su-"

knock knock

the blood drains from your face and you immediately feel yourself getting dry

"oh my god, who's here at 10 p.m.?!" you whisper shout to yourself as you scram to put your dildo back in its hiding place and through your night robe on.

you take a breather and check through your door's peephole

a big blue eye meets yourself and zooms out when satoru leans back and reveals that suguru is also with him.

you open the door quickly, slightly angry.

"why are you guys here?"

you keep your eyes on satoru, afraid even looking at suguru would reveal somehow that you'd just been vividly imagining sitting on his dick.

satoru seems impressed as he looks at your very short night robe, thighs out in the open and he shrugs, raising a bag of fast food in his hand, "wanted to hang out with you."

unable to refute his friendly gesture, you move so that the both of them can come in.

"you were ready for bed early," he comments, setting down the food on your kitchen island.

"it's ten p.m. satoru." you sigh, spotting that they didn't get drinks, so you try to find some cups for the Diet Coke in your fridge.

you realize they're in a cupboard.

that you'd have to lean up to

you're about to ask satoru to help you, but he's far too focused in setting out the food for all of you and suguru's just there, standing watching you and satoru, mostly you, in awkward silence.

"um, suguru," you pipe

he fully turns his attention to you. argh, you didn't think having 100% percent of his attention would be so drastic than having 80% of it as opposed to earlier, but it did

"can you get some cups from here?" you point at the cupboard, "I'd get them but uh-"

you look down at your very short nightrobe and exposed skin and suguru's ears turn pink at the tips

"yeah, no problem." he says quickly, moving to open the cupboard and gets out three ceramic pink cups.

you, meanwhile, open your fridge and get the Diet Coke jug you've had chilling, thankful you put it in the top shelf and not the bottom, having avoided the risk of bending to get it.

you sit down next to suguru, unfortunately, since satoru took the single seat across.

"so," you start to pour drinks for all of you, "what were you guys up to before this?"

"nothing," satoru mumbles through a mouthful of fries, "we were supposed to watch t.v. at suguru's place but the internet went out in his building."

one of your brows raises, "and you came to hog my t.v.?"

"no," satoru glares at you a little, "the burger place was right by your place and I wanted to stop by."

"plus," he adds, "I didn't bank on you being ready for bed so early."

then something lights up in his head and he stares at you quizzically, a smirk forming, "were you getting off before we got here? is that why you're all dolled up and dressed for bed like you've got first name dil last name do coming over?"

"ugh," you groan, "gross, satoru!"

"shoko and I went with you to buy that eight inch purple girth monster," he laughs, "you were sooooooo on it."

you roll your eyes and decide to ignore him, taking a bite out of the burger in front of you.

"take it easy on her satoru," suguru swoops in softly to defend you, "I remember how disgruntled you were when I found you with the door open during our time as roommates."

"hey! we agreed to never mention that to anyone else!"

you start to laugh, embarrassment only a tinge less than it was before, thanks to suguru.

although their sudden presence had interrupted your orgasm, you looked forward to the moment in which they would leave.

but satoru somehow, being the annoying giant he is, finds a way to make suguru and him stay the night at your place.

"satoru, I don't think my back can support sharing this couch with you." suguru tries to reason

"oh come onnnnn, we've shared less at frat parties before" satoru chippers, beginning to roll himself into a ball in one of your blankets.

pitifully, you share a look with suguru and hand him a blanket.

"sleep well guys." you yawn before turning off the lights and heading to your room.

your very empty room.

and you can feel your panties dampening again.

no you shouldn't.

you get into your bed and stuff yourself under covers, hoping your body gets the message that it needs to sleep.

it doesn't

so you count sheep.

nope

force your eyes closed and hope it just knocks you out.

nope, you were in that weird limbo of sleep and no sleep.

you don't know how much time has passed but you assume its late enough that both of the boys are asleep, so you shoot up out of your bed and lean over to open your nightstand, flipping your covers off in the process.

the desperation never wore off, your panties were drenched and you didn't even have to play with yourself to spread your lubrication or open yourself up a little.

biting the bullet, you lift a leg up with one arm and use the other to press the head of your dildo inside.

your breathing was extra labored, but that was nothing compared to the moans you'd let out if your friends weren't sleeping in the room next door.

then you start fucking it into yourself slowly, inch by inch, and it feels oh so good. even if it was see through, you pull down the straps of your nightgown and let your tits out, letting the air hit them and put you in a further state of vulnerability.

then in a matters of seconds, you're pounding yourself as hard as you can without making a noise from either lips.

your eyes are rolling back and it's hitting that angle so well that-

the relief washed over you faster than expected, orgasm a little ruined because you wanted to relish in the feeling longer.

so there you are, dildo still inside, one hand over your stomach while you let your breathing go back to normal.

"I needed that anyways." you whisper to yourself, feeling your chest heaving up and down.

knock knock

"you've got to be fucking kidding me." you shriek to yourself in the quietest manner possible as you rapidly stash your dildo away and fix your nightgown back on.

you dash to your door and open it a little, only letting the top of your head and eyes peer through the side considering what you were wearing.

there's suguru, hair down and shirt ridden up just a little, face a little surprised at the way you opened the door

"yes?" you ask, quickly peering at his happy trail

"is it alright if I use the restroom?" he asks, a little sleepy

"yeah," you gulp, "just let me get back in bed so I'm not indecent when you come in."

"alright, just tell me when."

and you leap onto your bed, immediately tugging your cover on top of you.

"you can come in." you say meekly, hoping he can't see how disheveled you are. the moon was especially bright tonight and it always lit up your room nicely during nights like this.

suguru opens the door immediately and smiles at you a little as he walks towards your restroom.

you smile awkwardly back

he pees you assume, because you've barely seen three tiktoks on your phone by the time he comes out.

"did I wake you?" he asks while he approaches you on your bed, taking a seat at the end.

having him so near the spot where you just pummeled yourself to orgasm made you shiver a little in fear.

"no," you almost stutter and put your phone down, "I was struggling to sleep."

"so was I" he laughs a little, "satoru sleeps so selfishly."

and your blabber mouth, stupid fake facade that you aren't affected at all by him speaks up.

"you can sleep with me."

you're both caught by surprise at your offer except only suguru expresses it, his eyebrows have raised innocently

and you cough up another remark, "it's not like you can really see what I'm wearing and you can just turn to the other side."

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable-" he's about to get up

and you act so stupidly again

"I don't mind suguru, your body needs good rest with all the strain you put on it." and there you are, flipping the covers open from the other side of your bed and tapping it for him to get into.

hesitantly, he gets up from the end of your bed and walks towards the open spot, "are you sure?"

"yeah," you nod, other hand hidden under the cover and gripping the sheets under you, "we've slept cramped up next to each other on road trips. what's the difference with all this space?"

you both know the difference

but he slowly gets under the covers with you anyways, positioning himself on his back, stiff as a board as he looks up and tries not to look at you, well that's what it looks like and you understand why.

"I'm sorry if I snore." you peep, also staring up at the ceiling

suguru turns to look at you a little, "you snore?"

"I don't know..."you respond, following in his lead and peeking at him from the corner of your eyes, "but I'd be really embarrassed if I did."

"well, I'm sorry if I do too." he gives you a small smile, one of those tight lipped ones, no teeth, just the softness the moment in them.

then your phone suddenly starts ringing loudly.

and you scram to shut it off, putting your phone on night mode

"who was that?" suguru peers at you, neck turned more to look at you now.

you gulp, "some guy from paris. I should block him soon anyways."

"you were seeing each other?"

well you did go out with him various times and continuously stayed lots of nights with him. hell you even showered with him a couple times.

"hardly." you brush off

"shoko would talk about you always spending the night at a Claude's place. didn't you text her that you had to pay for your own uber once?" he said it so smoothly, without a thought

you shrink a little into the bed, "well yeah but I never saw him as something serious and we never sealed the deal. I didn't think you'd know about him..."

"shoko often aired out what you'd be texting her in the moment." he breathed, one arm behind his head as he went back to staring at the ceiling again.

"so you know about how hard I partied and stuff?" you asked, hoping that maybe they showed him all your selfies and outfits, casual and sexy.

"yes." he nodded

he seemed so serious and a hopeful part of you wanted to say he seemed...jealous?

does he think you saw a lot of guys on your nights out? what is he thinking?

"I liked it," you started, making the path for a way to comfort him if that was the case, "but I wasn't a big fan of having guys try to pull me to dance with them. I missed you and satoru being there to stop guys from hogging on me."

his ears perk up a little and he looks at you again, almost as if he's waiting for you to continue, so you do, stupidly but it was at attempt

"I'm just glad I'm back with you guys."

"I'm glad you're back too."

"you guys finally freak it?"

you get a sudden whiplash and wake up to find satoru standing at the end of your bed, one leg propped up on it while he brushes his teeth.

you lean up, making sure to cover yourself with the covers and notice the comfort of suguru's arm leaving your head.

HUH

you're at a distance from him, you would've definitely noticed his body pressed against yours, but he's turned in your direction, one long arm splayed out and oh my god

you had been using it as a pillow.

he starts to wake up too at satoru's sudden intrusion and squints sleepily at him, starting to stretch a little. the covers must've shoved off of him a little because you can see his v-line when he groans.

which reminds you that he must've not recalled/felt you on his arm just now. he probably would've been so awkward.

you calm yourself down enough and go back to looking at satoru.

"oh probably not." satoru, with a mouth full of toothpaste, mumbles without a shame after looking at suguru still being fully clothed and your reaction at sleeping on him

"satoru," your vision and brain is still blurry from waking up, "is that my toothbrush?!"

"no," he borbles offended before walking back into your restroom and beginning to clean his mouth out with water, "I have a go-go bag here."

"since when do you have a go-go bag here? and where the hell did you hide it?"

"since you left me your apartment key to take care of your place before leaving," he's already spit out the last of his toothpaste and is sassily walking back to you and suguru, "and I have it in your closet all the way at the top."

you fall back into your bed, rolling your eyes at his weirdness, "why do you still knock then?"

"I have manners?" he looks at you like you just asked a stupid question

"I found his bag in my laundry room." suguru sighs, running his hands through his face.

"well it's impossible to hide anything in your apartment considering we're the same height." satoru rolls his eyes, "haibara's like 5'10 so he can't see that I have mine at the top cupboard above his stove."

"normal habits follow you satoru," suguru sighs, flipping the covers off his lower half and standing up, "but you outrun it."

"track was my thing in high school." he shrugs

you haven't seen suguru since then. it's been two weeks and you've no sight of him. you were hoping he'd make an appearance at satoru's apartment today, seeing as he was hosting a House of the Dragon watch party.

"oh suguru? he's not coming," satoru shrugs as he plops onto his couch, next to shoko and tugs the bowl of popcorn from her, "he's working on his startup. something about a big client needing something by tomorrow."

then it's been another week, no sight of suguru with anyone at any hangout.

you don't feel that optimistic when haibara and satoru beg the group to show up to the club tonight, with pregaming at satoru's apartment.

you're dressed in a tight little white dress when you show up to satoru's apartment, clinging onto shoko's arm because of how cold it was.

and you feel so happy that you still put 100% of effort into getting ready because there was suguru, seated on one of satoru's couches, watching in amusement as haibara attempts to teach satoru how to make a negroni.

your own excitement blinds you and without thinking, you slip in past everyone and stand in front of him.

"I thought you wouldn't be coming tonight." you look at him in slight marvel, astonished that he finally made an appearance

he makes a face of surprise at you, well you think it's surprise at what you said. you probably came off too strong because his ears turned a little red. what else could it be?

god he was taking a little too long to respond. had he been trying to avoid you? was he-

"it wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to leave your protection solely up to satoru would it?"

and just like that his soothing voice brushes over your entire body

"it would not." you giggle a little when you sit next to him, hoping your perfume reaches him and relishing in the fact that his arm was already hung over the part of the couch you inhabited.

"but what have you been up to? I haven't seen you in a while."

suguru's eyes soften at your curiosity, and unbeknownst to you, his heart swelled at the fact that you noticed his absence.

"I've been finishing up a personal project of mine," he says warmly, "if all goes well, I'll probably come close to affording an apartment like satoru's soon."

affording an apartment like satoru's soon?

that's like

a lot of money

a lot

and why is him getting more money in his bank account making you fawn even harder for him

well, the stability, duh.

but you have to act cool

"are you sure you want to live in the same apartment complex as satoru gojo?" you tease?

"I said like," he shoves your leg a little with his own, "I don't think I would be able to stand living under the same roof as him again."

"well I don't think he could either," you giggle, "he says you're too much of a homebody and always say you have food at home."

suguru makes no attempt to defend himself and shakes his head instead at the complaint from his best friend, "I find it wrong to say I'm guilty when there's nothing guilty about cooking your own meals."

"are you good at cooking? I know you posted on your close friends about some meals here and there, but it's been a while since you deactivated your account."

"I'd like to think I'm good," he pauses, looking at you for a moment before continuing, "I'd make a pasta for you but I don't want to challenge the likes of Italy and France."

"now that just sounds like an excuse to not cook for me," you squint your eyes and scrunch your nose at him playfully

"I make no excuses," suguru drinks from the glass of water in his hand, eyeing you with the same playful aura, "I'll let you try if you want, but you can't make any comparisons."

"deal." you huff a little, reaching your hand out towards him.

"deal." he agrees, setting down his glass to shake your hand.

you don't drink a lot in the pregame

or at the club

something about suguru being there, sober, and able to control every moment makes you want to do the same.

so you're surprised that you're not at all even tipsy when you gently grab his hand and motion for him to dance with you amongst the crowd of your friends and other strangers.

it doesn't really feel awkward.

satoru's dragged you plenty of times to dance with him. haibara's kinda twerked on you a couple of times.

how is this any different?

at least that's how your mind approaches it, unphased by the sensual rnb music and your waist in suguru's hand.

when your arms reach around his neck eventually, you note he smells intoxicating, like amber and leather.

when you've known the club to normally be a place where you cause a ruckus with satoru and haibara, this is quite the opposite.

you didn't know you could feel so grounded

maybe it was the lack of alcohol to spur on the party animal in you, but this was fine. your brain felt woozy enough from breathing in suguru's cologne.

it's only when you feel a tap on your back that you and suguru are interrupted.

suguru juts his jaw for you to look behind and when you turn, there's shoko a lighter and a cigarette in her hands. you and suguru follow her outside for her smoke break, the bare minimum for her protection, a norm.

"how come you haven't been following satoru's pace tonight with the drinking?" she sighs melodically as she puts a cig in her mouth and cusps a hand around it while the other lights it.

"um," you avoid suguru's presence, feeling something that you just can't quite point your finger at, "I think im pmsing, so...I don't want to trigger any cramps with the drinking."

"fair enough." she blows out a puff of smoke as she says that

"and when are you going to ever drink again suguru?" she lets her head fall on her shoulder, lazy eyes looking at him.

"when are you going to stop smoking those?" he asks in return, leaning against the wall behind him and looking at the people in passerby considering this was a busy street during the night.

"soon." she shrugs

you and suguru exchange a look between each other at the response. shoko's been saying that since freshman year.

and your small moment is interrupted when you see a frantic utahime waving her hand, nanami and haibara holding up a very pale satoru between them as they walk out of the club and towards you guys.

the three of you meet them at the middle and utahime starts to explain.

"satoru threw up on this vip table trying to make it in time to the restroom..." a slight look of disgust on her face

"you guys know I can't stand the smell of cheap vape smokeeee~"he whines from between his two friends, body slumped over

"oh." you also grimace imagining the situation

"we're going to walk him back to his place." utahime tries to convey with sorry eyes that she's sad the night had to end like this

"it's okay." you say and turn to shoko, "are you going with them?"

her place was on the same side of town as theirs, and they were probably going to stay at satoru's anyway. he had more than three bedrooms and was always ready for sleepovers.

"yeah," she says, moving forward to poke at satoru's chest, almost as if he were a lab rat, "you guys fine to-"

"nice tits pretty girl!" you hear a holler next to your ear

and its some guy walking by with his two other friends, clearly inebriated but its also clearly not enough for him to blame the behavior on it. and his target couldn't be anymore obvious when he's making the nastiest eye contact with you, or more so your chest.

"come again?" suguru says sternly at him, he didn't yell but...

you could hear him well and clear alright.

the guy stops walking and turns to you and suguru, speaking with a sassy stupor, "I said her tits were nice."

you look up behind you and suguru is biting his cheek, something you've never seen from him. you can tell he's mad and so can the other guy.

"you her boyfriend or something?" he smirks, relishing in the way suguru scowls at him as he nears the both of you, "if you're not saying shit ill fuck her little pussy right in front of-"

BAM!

multiple oohs are heard when suguru sucker punches him. and height is the only thing that helps your offender, because he does manage to stay up and land a punch to suguru's nose.

but before you can react and head over to check on him, like lightning, the guy is the ground after suguru hands him an uppercut.

and there goes satoru, vomiting on the side of the road too.

which you don't seem phased by because suguru just defended your honor, and won, so quickly.

but you're also really worried because his nose is bleeding when he turns around.

ignoring the pain of your heels finally setting in, you click clack over to him and move the hand he's using to grab at his nose so you can inspect him.

you're not sure if he can tell you're somewhere between feeling lusty and worried when he looks down at you, but he looks serious still as he makes eye contact with you.

and satoru barfs even more

"I can't handle blooddddd~" he cries which ushers a panicked utahime into calling shoko over and asking if you'd be fine heading back with suguru, making sure he's fine at the end of it.

when they start heading off, you pull out your phone from your purse, "let me get us an uber to your place."

your hands are shaking a little in adrenaline and you jump a little when suguru swipes your phone from your hand and hands you his, uber app already open.

he's continuously wiping his nose as he painfully murmurs, "not letting you leave my place alone, I'll drop you off at yours first, put your address, I'll pay."

worriedly, you want to deny him, but the thought is intimidated out of you when he stares you down.

"ok-okay." you speak a little shakily

so much for you thinking you'd be cool and calm in a situation like this.

you dragged suguru into your apartment the moment you got to your place. you had finally noticed the small cut on his nose bridge and near his eye and really insisted on patching him up.

you also were scared that he'd somehow get a brain bleed and die on the way home out of sheer anxiety. so you wanted to keep an eye on him for a while to keep your mind at ease.

suguru is sitting at the edge of your bed, watching as you rummage through your restroom for your first aid kid. and when you finally find it, you're rushing to him and setting it down next to him, beginning to filter through it for the alcohol wipes.

"close your eyes," you ask breathlessly, still feeling the after effects of your adrenaline, "I don't want to irritate your eyes accidentally."

suguru listens to you and closes his eyes, a slight grimace already on his face in preparation for the sting you're about to bring to his cuts.

he hisses a little when you press on them

"sorry."

"it's okay." his eyes scrunch a little and you can see his hand on his lap, opening and closing as a reflex to the sting.

then you take out the antibiotic ointment to start spreading a little on his wounds. his body relaxes a little when he sees that the bothersome part is over and he keeps his eyes open, watching you.

you feel so hot under his gaze, you can't help but blabber when you're in the process of putting cream on his nose bridge

"you really have been putting the work in at kickboxing huh." you say awkwardly, trying to do a fake laugh, but

"did I scare you?"

suguru's burning a hole into your face with how intensely he's looking at you

you almost choke on your breath

"no."

"you were shaking when you were typing your address on my phone."

oh he noticed

you didn't want him to misunderstand

"well you didn't scare me, but I was scared for you, still am. I don't want you to drop dead on the street." you answer a little shakily, having forgotten to reach for the small bandaids.

"besides what girl gets scared of the guy who defends her honor..." you add

"shoko almost gagged when nanami made a guy apologize to her." he quips

"well that's shoko," you shrug and look off to the side, "I liked it."

you're about to reach for the bandaids when his hand on is holding onto one of your arms, gentle but it sustains all your attention.

"what do you mean?"

"well we all know shoko's a lesb-"

"no, when you said you liked it."

explaining that to him is complicated. when you said that you liked it you know that you mean that your panties got a little sticky watching him spit out blood that tried to seep into his mouth from his nose. the memory makes you subconsciously rub your thighs together. but you'll just brush it off as a normal like, as in it flattered you.

unbeknownst to you, suguru spotted the movement between your legs.

"it was flatte-"

"then why do you look so nervous trying to tell me that?"

a bit exasperated and heavily flustered, you stomp your foot a little and avoid looking at him, "suguru, please stop. you're making me nervous."

"what's there to be nervous about?"

"we're just friends." he adds

and his eyes light up watching when your own shoot towards him, your offense front and center.

and for the first time, you can see how he looks at you with so much yearning?

"am I wrong?"

christ, has he always looked at you with this much desire?

you're speechless and even though the signs are pointing towards the obvious, you still form a sentence that spares your feelings.

"do you want to be wrong?"

"yeah."

you feel shaky again

and it's not because you're scared.

"can you please stop looking at me like that?" you beg, avoiding his eyes again, almost about to hyperventilate from the pressure his stare is putting on you.

he grabs your other hand and leers you close to him, breath tickling your neck since you're so stubborn on not looking at him.

"do you still want to be friends?" he asks

and even though it sounds seductive and suave, you can make out the slight genuine yearning to know if that's what you want.

so you look at him again, trying to swallow the nervous lump in your throat

"you know how I feel." you plead

"no I don't," he laughs a little painfully, "I've never said anything because I don't know, so tell me."

you stare at each other for a while, his patience everlasting as you muster up the courage to say something that shouldn't be so embarrassing.

"I don't want to be friends."

"do you want me to go home?" he asks, thumbs rubbing circles on your wrists.

and its the quickest answer you've given him so far

"no."

and you want it

bad.

so so so bad.

but you have to get the question off of your chest.

"what-what do you want to be?"

"each other's if you'll have me." he breathes, looking up at you still

he's saying all the right things. and he's here. you're freshly shaved and waxed and wearing the hottest lingerie under this. fucking hell you wouldn't even need foreplay to take him right now, you're preening at the thought of having him.

"do you think satoru packs condoms in his go-go bag?"

it just slips out of your mouth so easily and you want to be embarrassed, but you're to eager for that.

"I know he does." suguru gets up quickly, eyes darting to your closet and then to you, "are you sure?"

and it's like some sort of instincts take over because you take the hands that are holding yours and place them on your tits, motioning for him to squeeze them.

"I'm really sure."

the action has him baffled, a pink flush face you've never seen on him while he stands there taken aback. it gives you a little confidence to remove his hands and take off your dress. then you let him watch as you get on the bed, sitting on your heels as you take his hands in yours again to plead.

"I want you in me suguru."

"fuck." he curses, before rushing towards your closet and yanking the infamous go-go bag and tossing it next to the bed. he starts to take his shirt off soon after, immediately reaching for your face when he gets into the bed with you

he's a sensual kisser. sensual as in you're pretty sure it'd be illegal to kiss him in public.

he kisses like he's fucking your mouth with his own. and it has you shivering into his touch, pussy aching for him to fill you up.

you pull him in by the belt loops of his jeans and whine, "take it out please."

your words make him groan into your mouth and he reaches one hand down to help yours unzipper his pants and push them down.

you feel his raw length slap across and press onto your mound when he grinds against you

"you haven't done this before right." he almost says darkly as he stares down at where your bodies would be meeting soon.

"no." you moan, watching him as he stuffs his dick under your panties and slides it back and forth on your pussy lips.

he shivers at the contact and dips his head into your neck, mouthing and biting at the skin there, "fuck, you're actually drenched."

and for a moment, you both get rigid at the euphoric feeling of his tip catching on your hole so easily.

"I'm not sure I'm going to last long with you right now," he all but exhales shakily, hips still moving back and forth against you

"that's fine, just keep going."

and he's about to reach over in the bag for a condom when your lust takes over so much that you stop him and line him up with your hole.

"just do it like that please."

he moans as your ministrations and looks at you for reassurance, "are you sure?"

you can tell he's fighting so hard not to move

"just use my pussy please suguru, I need it so bad." you complain, reaching down to pull your panties further to the side, chest heaving from carnal need for him.

suguru leans closer to pull your see through bra down, and begins to suck harshly on one of your nipples when he starts bullying his cock into you.

you can feel every vein when he starts to sink into you and fuck, his tip is so snug and big, the feeling of it ridging against your insides every time he brings it in and out is dizzying.

you're so focused on the feeling of his thick dick filling you up that you've barely noticed how suguru's folded your legs back. both of you now entranced in the way he's balls deep in you, a loud wet pap sound accompanying every thrust of his.

"you like that sweet girl?" he heaves through deep fast thrusts, mesmerized by the way your stomach moves just a little every time he bottoms out.

words aren't something you're capable of right now because when you try to respond, all you let out is shriek

this is nothing compared to the way you've tried to pummel yourself with your dildo. his hands are everywhere and he's got you right where he wants you. you can't escape him.

and when you thought he couldn't his pace and force grows stronger.

you're basically screaming now.

"yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes." is all you can say, so dumb on his cock that you can't help but want more and more

"fuck, don't talk like that," he groans, almost as if to himself, "I'm gonna end up creaming your pussy if you keep that up."

"cream it please." you beg loudly, "wanna feel us get messy."

your tongue is basically salivating at the though of his balls coated in cum and slapping against your clit, strings of mess forming from how intense it is.

and he starts twitching into you, rushing to kiss you as he pumps inside of you. thank goodness, it feels like its spilling out of you in heaps.

you're so happy, so so happy.

"let's do doggy yeah?" you pull him in by wrapping an arm around his neck, grinding your hips against him for more

"whatever you want," he nearly whines, pulling out of you just so he can flip you over and push your back down.

you feel hornier like this, pussy more exposed and growing needier with the feeling of his cum seeping out of you. it makes you wiggle your ass for him to fuck you more already.

and without warning he does just that, slipping into you again and gripping your ass so hard when he starts using you like a fleshlight.

"fuck, yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes," he mumbles to himself, "tiny fucking wet pussy. love it so fucking much. fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck."

you're thoughtless, just utterly brain dead from how hard he's going on you, from how much your pussy is getting split open again and again.

this goes on for hours, so many positions covered by you and suguru. foreplay was never involved at all during that time, neither of you wanting to go without feeling each other so crudely connected for more than a second.

you actually fall asleep cockwarming him even, the both of you too stubborn to stop that you fell asleep still trying to get it on.

neither you or suguru hear the jingle of your apartment door being opened later that day. both too fucked out and tired to wake up.

but you do hear when the door to your own bedroom opens, and suguru quickly gets on the defensive, covering you with your bedsheets and about to-

"satoru!" you both yell.

"woah," you hear laughing through the door, "you guys really stayed up all night fucking? everybody's been calling you guys since two."

#geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru smut #geto suguru smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #geto x you #jjk x you #getou suguru x reader #jjk suguru #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen suguru #satoru gojo #shoko ieiri #gojo

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liuhsng · 2 days ago

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✩ˎˊ˗ no-fly zone ( pjs ! ) — part 1

✩ˎˊ˗ part of the untouchable series | enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jay x fem!reader ⤷ part 1 | part 2 ⤷ word count — 14.5k ⤷ taglist for the series — open ! ⤷ warning/s — a/b/o au, foul language, fem!reader, enemies to lovers trope, forced proximity, lots of sexual tension, jay’s a menace = you’re a menace, jay is emotinally constipated, jay has issues (but he’s your issue now), jay is confused and lowkey obsessed, mentions of the other parts from this series, not proofread ⤷ a/n — i'm back baby, this is literally my favorite work rn i can’t even lie + I SWEAR, THIS HAS A PART 2 JUST GIVE ME A FEW HOURS, enjoy !!

✩ˎˊ˗ summary: park jongseong—better known as jay, had everything: wealth, power, and a name that carried undeniable influence. a pureblooded alpha and the only son of a family that dominated the aviation industry, he was sharp enough to take over the business and reckless enough to make the upper-ups lose patience. despite his position as student council treasurer, his reputation preceded him: missed deadlines, flawless grades, and a habit of picking the wrong fights. their solution? a tutor. a glorified babysitter. and, of course, it had to be you. an omega with a spotless record, a name as weighty as his own, and an infuriating presence that had always stood in his way. your families worked together, but you and jay never had. now, forced into each other’s space, the line between rivalry and something far more dangerous begins to blur.

The atmosphere in the lecture hall was suffocating, tension thick enough to choke on.

Jay sat back in his seat, legs stretched out in front of him, one arm draped lazily over the chair’s backrest. His expression was unreadable, a careful mask of boredom that only made the fury in his professor’s voice sound more desperate.

“You think just because you have power, you don’t have to put in the effort?” The professor’s voice cut through the silence, accusing. “That your name alone is enough to get you by? That you can just waltz in and out of this classroom and still expect to be given the same respect as those who actually work for it?”

A few students stiffened in their seats. Others exchanged glances, some barely breathing. No one spoke. No one dared to.

Jay, however, barely looked fazed. If anything, he looked bored. He blinked, slow and deliberate, before tilting his head slightly.

“That’s an interesting accusation,” he mused, voice smooth, laced with something dangerous. “And what exactly have I done to ‘abuse’ my so-called power?”

The professor scoffed, crossing his arms. “Do you even hear yourself, Park? You show up when you feel like it, you turn in work whenever it suits you, and yet you still expect to be at the top of this class. You might be the student council treasurer, but that doesn’t mean you can—”

“—handle my academics?” Jay cut in, raising a brow. His voice was quieter now, but somehow even sharper. “I do my council work, don’t I? So tell me, if I can run the financials of this entire school, why wouldn’t I be able to keep up with my classes?”

His professor faltered, lips pressing into a thin line. But Jay was already done with this conversation.

His gaze dropped, falling to the Cartier watch wrapped around his wrist. He stared at it for a long moment, watching the second hand tick forward, before exhaling slowly.

Then, without another word, he pushed back his chair. The legs scraped against the tiled floor, the sound ringing through the lecture hall like a gunshot.

He stood, grabbing his bag in one fluid motion. On the desk beside him, a thick folder sat untouched; the very project that had been due yesterday. Without looking, he picked it up and strode to the front of the room, his footsteps slow, measured, deafening in the silence.

And then, with the kind of careless precision that only he could pull off, he dropped the folder onto the professor’s desk with a heavy thud.

A few students flinched. The professor barely breathed.

Jay adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder, finally meeting the man’s eyes again. His expression was unreadable, but there was something almost amused lurking beneath it.

“Here,” he said simply, his voice dangerously quiet. “On time, as always.”

And then, without sparing another glance, he turned and walked out.

No rush, no hesitation. Just Park Jongseong, unbothered as ever, leaving behind a stunned professor and a classroom full of students who could do nothing but watch in awed, uneasy silence.

Because even when Jay didn’t follow the rules—he never once lost.

Jay moved through the halls with the ease of someone who belonged, not just in the school but above it. His strides were unhurried, exuding a quiet authority that made people step aside without him ever asking. Conversations dipped the moment he passed, whispers filling the void he left behind.

Most watched him with admiration, others with wariness, but they all watched.

It was always like this. Jay wasn’t just a student; he was the heir to a business empire, a pureblooded Alpha; he never begged, never chased, never had to ask for anything. The world bent in his favor.

And even when it didn’t, he simply took what he wanted anyway.

He barely acknowledged the attention, barely registered the murmured voices trailing behind him like a shadow. He had no reason to care. The class he had just left had been nothing short of a joke— lessons he had already known for years. A complete waste of time.

Now, he had better things to do.

The student council room was quiet when he arrived, the heavy doors clicking shut behind him. Jungwon sat at the far end of the room, hunched over his own stack of files, brows furrowed in concentration. He didn’t even glance up. On the opposite side, Ni-ki was slumped over his desk, one arm draped over his face, mouth slightly parted in sleep.

Jay stepped inside like he owned the place, because he did.

His desk stood exactly where he left it, neat and untouched, save for the stack of papers waiting for his approval. The nameplate perched on the edge gleamed under the fluorescent light: Park Jongseong, Student Council Treasurer.

He didn’t waste time. Shrugging off his blazer, he rolled up his sleeves, revealing the toned forearms littered with faint bruises from a fight long since forgotten. Then, without hesitation, he reached for the first document on the pile, flipping through the pages with the same sharp precision he applied to everything else.

The weight of the world balanced between his fingers.

And Jay, as always, carried it like it was nothing.

The room remained steeped in silence, save for the rustle of papers and the occasional shift of Ni-ki’s sleeping form. The quiet was almost welcome—almost.

“Another disagreement with a professor?”

The words came from across the room, flat and unsurprised. Jungwon didn’t even bother looking up from his stack of files, his pen scratching lazily against the paper.

Jay exhaled sharply through his nose, a scoff more than an actual laugh. Not at Jungwon, but at the fact that word had already spread.

“Didn’t take long, huh?” he muttered, flipping to the next page in his file without much thought. His voice held the same easy arrogance as always, laced with something almost amused.

Jungwon smirked, still not looking up. “Dude, it’s you. At this point, it’d be bigger news if you actually went an entire week without pissing off a professor.”

Jay hummed, leaning back against his chair, stretching his arms over his head before letting them drop onto the armrests. “And? What about it?”

Jungwon let out a breath that was more laughter than sigh, finally setting his pen down. He clasped his hands together, resting his chin atop them as he gave Jay a knowing look. “You know, for someone who checks every box of a perfect student, you really need to start giving a damn about these kinds of shit.”

Jay’s eyes flickered up, “Why would I?”

Jungwon merely chuckled, shaking his head. “Because you’re giving the higher-ups exactly what they want.”

For a moment, Jay didn’t respond. Then he leaned forward, arms resting on the desk, voice low and laced with something just shy of amusement. “And what exactly is that?”

Jay let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Jungwon,” he started, voice dripping with something close to condescension, “their salaries come from us. From our families,”

He tilted his head slightly, watching Jungwon carefully. “So tell me, do you really think they’d risk stepping out of line?”

Jungwon only shrugged, picking up his pen again. “I think you’re making it easier for them to try.”

Before Jay could respond, the heavy doors swung open, cutting through the conversation.

Heeseung was the first to walk in, adjusting his cufflinks, his brows furrowed slightly like he had just come from something particularly annoying. Jake followed soon after, his lips twitching with amusement, and Sunghoon strolled in right beside him, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Sunoo had his arms crossed, a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Jay,” Heeseung drawled, dropping into one of the empty chairs, “you really need to stop pissing off the professors.”

Sunghoon huffed, tugging at the loosened tie around his collar. “And you say we’re reckless.”

Jake smirked, shaking his head. “I just saw your professor storming into the admin office, he didn’t look too happy.”

Jay didn’t even look up from the papers in front of him. “Should’ve assigned something actually worth my time, then.”

Sunoo let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You are so full of yourself.”

Jay finally glanced up, resting his elbow on the desk and tilting his head slightly. “And?” His smirk widened, voice laced with amusement. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Jake whistled lowly, shaking his head. “One day, man. One day, they’re actually gonna pull something on you.”

Jay only chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Then let’s see if they have the nerve.”

And just like that, the conversation was over.

Jay wasn’t looking for trouble.

Not this time, at least.

He had left the council room with one goal in mind—find a vending machine, grab a drink, and get to his next class before the headache forming behind his eyes got any worse. With his tie loosened and sleeves rolled up, he looked more like someone who ruled this academy than simply walked through it.

“Fucking useless council doesn’t even do shit. Bunch of spoiled leeches living off family names.”

Jay’s steps didn’t stop. He’d heard worse. He wasn’t in the mood.

But then—

“And Park Jongseong? That bastard’s a walking headache. Always in fights, never in class. Total burden, that one.”

That made him stop.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, jaw tightening as he turned on his heel. Three Alphas. Not just any Alphas—delusional ones. Ones who thought that just because they shared the same title, they were anywhere near his level.

Jay’s gaze swept over them with cold indifference, expression unreadable. A predator surveying prey.

One of them, a bulky second-year with more muscle than sense, met his gaze with an arrogant smirk.

“What did you just say?” His voice was soft. Almost pleasant. Almost.

Jay took a step forward, gaze steady. His bag slid off his shoulder and hit the ground with a dull thud.

The guy scoffed, chin raising like he thought this was going to be some pathetic pissing contest. “You heard me. You’re a burden, Park Jongseong. Just throwing your weight around, hiding behind your family’s name.”

Jay’s jaw twitched. Not with anger.

With boredom.

“You really think this is the hill you want to die on?”

Before they could answer, Jay’s fist connected with the guy’s jaw. The crack echoed across the stone path, followed by a sharp grunt as the Alpha stumbled back, crashing into the iron bench behind him.

The other two didn’t waste time—they lunged.

Jay ducked under the first punch, letting it sail over his shoulder before delivering a brutal elbow to the side of the Alpha’s head. The third tried to grab him from behind, but Jay twisted free, slamming his palm against the guy’s face and shoving him backward with enough force to send him toppling over his friend.

Blood spattered across the edge of his collar. Someone groaned. Another cursed.

Jay barely blinked.

One of the Alphas managed to swing wide, landing a weak punch to Jay’s side. He barely flinched. Instead, he turned and landed a right hook that sent the idiot reeling to the dirt.

It didn’t last long. It never did.

Jay adjusted his sleeve, breathing steady as he looked over the mess he left in the grass.

One of them groaned from where he lay curled on the ground, and somewhere in the distance—a shrill cry.

Jay’s head tilted slightly.

A girl, probably one of their mates had appeared from around the hedge, gasping in horror as she caught sight of the scene.

Her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh my god, what happened—what did you do to them?!”

Jay didn’t even look at her. He grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and wiped a streak of blood from his knuckle with the corner of his uniform.

“Tch.” He scoffed under his breath, turning away from the mess like it wasn’t even worth the effort of acknowledgment. “Tell them to watch who they run their mouths around.”

The girl’s voice rang out behind him—shaky, pitched with fury and disbelief. “You’re gonna pay for this, Park! You think you can keep getting away like this?”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow down.

The sound of her threats faded behind him, buried under the weight of his own indifference. Her voice was just another noise in a world that had too much of it already. He tugged at the sleeve of his uniform where blood had stained the cuff, and with a quiet scoff, flicked the edge down like it wasn’t even there.

What was she going to do? Cry to the higher-ups?

Jay stalked through the side halls of the academy, his pace unhurried, movements fluid with the same dangerous calm that had haunted the bruised and bloodied trio left behind on the grass. He passed by a few students, some whispered. Some stared. Most pretended not to notice the faint smudge of blood near his collar.

The classroom was quiet when he pushed open the door. Second period. Business Strategy. Another joke of a class with a professor who acted like theory ever meant anything in a real-world empire.

Jay’s eyes scanned the room once, sharp and bored, before they landed on the only person who mattered in the moment.

Sunghoon.

Sitting by the window, legs crossed, silver-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he scribbled something into his notes with a blue pen. His back was straight, posture perfect. He didn’t even need to look up, he already knew.

But unlike him, Sunghoon didn’t indulge in chaos. He didn’t need to. His brand of power was colder, quieter, a silent scalpel instead of a roaring fire.

Jay made his way to his seat without a word, dropping his bag with a thud, the chair creaking under his weight as he leaned back.

Then—

“You smell like blood.”

Sunghoon’s voice broke the stillness, calm but edged with that unmistakable disapproval only he could manage. He didn’t look up from his notes. Didn’t need to.

Jay smirked. The one that twisted the corners of his mouth into something sharp and crooked. The one that came right before someone regretted crossing him.

“Wasn’t my fault this time.”

Sunghoon finally looked up, slow and deliberate, eyes narrowing as they landed on the faint red on Jay’s knuckles.

“Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

Jay leaned forward, elbows on the desk, resting his chin on his hand as he stared back, amused. “They were talking. Spouting shit about the council. About me.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond right away. Just studied him. Like he was debating whether to call him out or let it slide.

“They’re just jealous.” Jay’s voice dropped into something lower, laced with pride. “No pedigree. No power. Just noise trying to echo louder than it should.”

Sunghoon sighed, setting down his pen.

“You’re going to end up on the university's front page one day, you know that?”

Jay chuckled under his breath, stretching out in his seat like the whole world owed him space.

“Good. About time they started printing things that matter.”

And with that, he turned his head toward the window, letting the sunlight catch the faint smudge of red still clinging to his skin, completely unbothered.

The council room was quieter than usual, the afternoon sun slanting through the high arched windows and casting golden streaks across the dark wood table.

Only seven seats were filled, the rest empty; a rare, informal meeting between the inner circle. Jungwon sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable as he flipped through several clipped pages of final project proposals, while Heeseung leaned closer to get a better view, murmuring comments here and there.

“We’ll need to finalize the proposals by next week,” Jungwon said, his voice calm but laced with authority. “Heeseung, double-check which department submissions are missing and send a notice before tomorrow’s end. Jake, make sure the permits are in by Friday, I don’t want delays. Sunoo, go over the communications plan, see if it fits the timeline.”

Jake nodded, scribbling something into his notes. “Already on it.”

Sunoo offered a small salute from across the table. “Social media templates are halfway done. I’ll send them for review tonight.”

“Sunghoon,” Jungwon continued, “you’re in charge of marketing coordination for the week. Keep our outreach tight. Ni-ki, check in with the lower-year reps, remind them this isn’t vacation season.”

Ni-ki groaned but gave a thumbs-up, clearly still half-asleep as he twirled his pen lazily between his fingers.

“And Jay,” Jungwon said, his eyes shifting to the treasurer who sat farther down the table, lounging like the meeting was a minor inconvenience. His legs were crossed, one hand twirling a pen while the other balanced the budget folder against the table's edge.

Jay sighed, snapping the folder open. “Yeah, yeah. Budget review. Let’s get it over with.”

He glanced at the numbers and began reading aloud with casual detachment. “We have more than enough to fund this cycle’s cultural and academic allocations, assuming no new surprise expenses show up.”

He flipped to the next page, eyes narrowing slightly. “Also, whoever ordered last term’s light rentals should be banned from touching a receipt again.”

Jake chuckled under his breath, already knowing who Jay was referring to.

Jay paused briefly, his fingers tapping against the wood. There was something contemplative in the way he stared down at the inked numbers, like his mind had wandered elsewhere. “Isn’t it funny,” he muttered, voice low but clearly audible, “how I’m the irresponsible one, and yet I’m still the one cleaning up their mess?”

A knock interrupted the moment.

Jay didn’t bother looking up. “Probably someone wasting my time,” he mumbled, flipping the folder closed.

Another knock came, louder.

He clicked his tongue, annoyed. “Come in,” he snapped.

The door creaked open, revealing a first-year beta standing awkwardly in the doorway, clutching a folded paper like it might protect him. He hesitated before stepping fully inside, his face already pale.

Jay’s eyes locked on him, slow and deliberate. The beta visibly tensed as the scent of sandalwood and tequila thickened, laced with a bitter edge of annoyance. Jay raised a brow, unimpressed.

“Spit it out.”

The boy’s hands shook. “Y-You’re needed at the Head Office, sir. The Headmaster… he said it’s urgent.”

Jay didn’t respond. He simply stared, the silence stretching long enough to make the boy fidget.

Jake reached over and gently pulled the folder from Jay’s hand before the latter’s temper could ignite. “Just go,” he said with a half-smile. “You’ll melt the poor kid with that glare.”

Sunghoon didn’t look up from his tablet. “Try not to start a war while you’re at it.”

Jay scoffed, rising to his full height, his movements smooth and deliberate. He tugged the cuffs of his blazer into place, the air around him still crackling faintly from his earlier irritation.

“Tell the Headmaster he owes me ten minutes of peace,” he muttered coldly, shooting one last glare at the messenger as he strode past, his presence still lingering heavily even after the door clicked shut behind him.

The hallway was quiet, footsteps echoing as Jay and the first-year beta walked side by side—or rather, the beta trailed half a step behind, nervously glancing up at him every few seconds. Jay said nothing. His silence was as sharp as a blade, stretched taut like a wire ready to snap.

They hadn’t made it more than a few turns from the council room when the boy fumbled with the folded paper and held it out, his voice almost a whisper. “S-Sir, the letter… the Headmaster asked me to give it to you.”

Jay stopped. He took the letter slowly, opening it with a lazy flick of his fingers. His eyes scanned the contents. Whatever was written on the paper didn’t seem to amuse him in the way it should have—instead, a sarcastic laugh slipped past his lips.

“Of course,” he said under his breath, crumpling the letter in one hand before stuffing it into his blazer pocket like it was trash. “If he makes me late for my next class, I’m filing a harassment complaint.”

The beta beside him paled even more, sweating nervously under the weight of Jay’s sharp tone and overpowering scent. Jay didn’t spare him another glance, already walking forward again as if the entire thing was an inconvenience unworthy of his time.

By the time they reached the administration wing—tucked at the far end of the sprawling campus like a punishment in itself, Jay was already dragging his feet. The place smelled like polished floors and expensive paper. Too clean. Too suffocating.

The receptionist stood up the second she spotted him, mouth already opening to offer a polite greeting. But Jay walked right past her without so much as eye contact. He didn’t care. Didn’t need the fake pleasantries. And certainly didn’t have the patience for it.

Without knocking, he pushed open the heavy door to the headmaster’s office, letting it swing in with a dull thud against the wall.

Inside, seated like a damn tribunal, were the Headmaster, the Disciplinary Director, and one of the academy’s Legal Advisors.

There was a single, untouched glass of water placed neatly on the desk in front of the empty chair.

Obviously for him.

Jay didn’t sit.

He didn’t even step fully inside yet, standing just past the office with a look of total disinterest.

“If you’re trying to scare me with the full panel,” he said, voice dipped in sarcasm, “you should’ve invited my father. He would’ve appreciated the effort.”

The Legal Advisor raised a brow. The Disciplinary Director narrowed her eyes. The Headmaster just sighed, already bracing for the kind of conversation only Park Jongseong could bring to the table.

“You’ll want to sit, Mr. Park,” the Headmaster offered, gesturing toward the chair.

“I’m good,” Jay replied, tone clipped. “Let’s not pretend we enjoy each other’s company.”

“Suit yourself.” The Headmaster folded his hands over the folder in front of him. “We’re here today because of your recent behavior.”

Jay narrowed his eyes. “You’re gonna have to be more specific. Recent is vague.”

The Headmaster exhaled, already used to the boy’s theatrics.

“You’ve been in four separate altercations this month alone,” he began calmly, lifting a folder and flipping it open. “Three of which resulted in faculty involvement. One of which resulted in the school clinic being called in. You’ve submitted two assignments this term, both a week late, and there are five courses where your professors have yet to receive even a syllabus outline from you.”

Jay blinked. “And?”

The Disciplinary Director tensed. “Mr. Park, that isn’t—”

“But your council duties,” the Headmaster interrupted, ignoring the tension. “Perfect. Every report on time. Budget reports accurate. Project proposals double-checked. Even your attendance is flawless.”

Jay scoffed quietly. “Because I actually give a shit about that.”

The Headmaster raised a brow but didn’t respond to that. Instead, he closed the folder and folded his hands together.

“No one here is threatening expulsion, Mr. Park. That would be a waste of everyone’s time. You’re not a delinquent. You’re intelligent. Capable. You just lack… consistency.” He paused. “What you need is someone to keep you grounded. Someone who’ll remind you that your brilliance doesn’t exempt you from basic responsibility.”

Jay’s eyes narrowed. His posture stiffened slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re assigning me a babysitter.”

“In a sense,” the Headmaster said slowly, reaching for a second file from beneath his desk. “I’ve spoken with your father about this. He’s agreed.”

Jay finally moved. He dropped himself into the empty chair across the desk with a mockingly loud sigh, slouching in the seat like he had nothing to lose.

He leaned forward then, elbows on his knees, tone dripping with fake concern. “So what now? You gonna slap me with another warning? Extra hours in the archives? Gonna pair me with some first-year Omega who’ll sob if I raise my voice?”

He sat back with a grin, fully expecting the usual lecture.

But then the Headmaster slid a new folder across the desk.

And said your name.

“(L/N) (Y/N),” he announced, calm and final. “You’ll be paired with her for one month.”

Jay’s entire body went still.

Gone was the amused posture, the lazy grin, the biting sarcasm—replaced by a cold, simmering silence. His face didn’t just fall; it contorted, the corners of his mouth pulling down into something bordering on disgust, his jaw clenched so tight the muscles ticked.

The glass of water on the desk remained untouched, condensation dripping silently onto the wood.

“You’re kidding,” he said finally, voice low and razor sharp.

The Headmaster merely straightened his papers. “Her academic record is exemplary. No demerits. No late submissions. Excellent conduct and a proven sense of leadership. You both rank highest in your respective year levels.”

“You know your families have been close for generations,” the Headmaster continued. “She’s one of the top students in her year, and her record is—”

“Clean. Of course it is,” Jay snapped, voice low and dangerous now.

The Legal Advisor cleared her throat, flipping open a second folder. “In fact, your records side by side paint quite the contrast.”

She held up the paper, a side-by-side chart. One half filled with distinctions, glowing reviews, recommendations. The other half, Jay’s half, filled with warning slips, missed assignments, and disciplinary notes scribbled in rushed red ink.

Jay just stared, harder and colder than ever before, like he was mentally setting the entire office on fire.

“You excel when you care,” the Headmaster said, voice even. “But you don’t care enough, and that’s the problem. So, for one month, she’ll be tasked with overseeing your academic responsibilities. Any delays or failures in submission will reflect on both of you.”

That made Jay’s brows twitch.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, you want her to babysit me?” he muttered under his breath.

“She’s not a babysitter,” the Disciplinary Director corrected. “She’s your academic liaison for the month.”

Jay gave a dry laugh. Cold. Humorless. Like someone told him the world was ending and handed him a glitter pen to sign the paperwork.

“She won’t last a week,” he sneered. “She’ll run the moment she realizes I don’t play by honor student rules.”

“You’ll be surprised,” the Headmaster replied simply. “She agreed.”

That made Jay’s smirk falter. You agreed?

Jay leaned back again, arms crossed, and stared them down with a look that could've burned holes through solid steel.

“If you’re top of the class,” the Headmaster said, “it’s time you start acting like it.”

Jay gave a short laugh—dry and humorless as he stood.

He didn’t bother collecting the folder. Didn’t look at the water. Didn’t thank them for their concern.

He just turned, the sneer still tugging at his lips as he opened the door again without a word. His shoulder brushed the frame just enough to make it swing back sharply behind him as he walked out, scent sharp and bitter in his wake.

And the silence that followed was louder than anything he could’ve said.

The scent of sandalwood and tequila spiked in the halls like a warning bell.

Students cleared the way without needing to be told, no one wanted to be collateral damage to whatever mood Park Jongseong was in. His bag was slung over one shoulder carelessly, steps heavy and sharp as he made his way toward the admin wing. Again.

“This better be the last damn time,” he muttered under his breath, jaw tight.

The moment he reached the polished wooden doors, he didn’t knock. With one swift shove, the door swung open and slammed against the inside wall with a loud crack that echoed through the room.

And then he saw you.

Sitting pretty on one of the chairs opposite the Headmaster’s desk, legs crossed at the ankle, back straight, hands folded neatly over your lap.

Jay blinked once, twice.

You didn’t look at him right away. No, of course not. You were too busy conversing with the Headmaster like you weren’t just assigned to be his personal nightmare for the next month.

He scoffed quietly, stepping further in and letting the door close behind him with a solid thunk.

The Headmaster glanced up. “Ah. Mr. Park. Right on time.”

“If this is another lecture, skip it,” Jay said flatly, “I’ve already heard yesterday’s greatest hits.”

The Disciplinary Director looked mildly amused. The Legal Advisor didn’t even blink.

The Headmaster simply gestured toward the chair beside you. “Sit.”

Jay didn’t move. Instead, he looked at you again, finally catching your eyes as you turned toward him with the smallest smile. Innocent. Too innocent. It made his teeth grit.

And he hated that he noticed how good you looked, you always do.

“Park.” The Headmaster’s voice was firm. “Sit.”

Jay sighed through his nose and dragged the chair back with a loud scrape, dropping into it like it offended him to be told what to do. He leaned back, arms crossed, one ankle resting over his knee.

The Headmaster folded his hands. “Now that you’re both here… Let’s discuss the terms of your arrangement. It’s one month. Ms. (L/N) will be overseeing your academic responsibilities alongside your council work. Every submission, every report, every meeting—you two will handle together.”

The Headmaster continued. “Your records are being compared as we speak. While you may be leading your class in terms of final results, Jay, it’s clear you’ve neglected basic academic structure. Submissions late. Skipped consults. Zero communication with your professors.”

Jay sneered. “They get the work, don’t they?”

The Headmaster ignored him. “Ms. (L/N), on the other hand, has an impeccable record.”

Jay laughed. A soft, breathy scoff that held zero amusement.

“Of course she does.” His voice dropped into something darker. “Perfect little (L/N).”

You turned your head toward him slowly, brows raised just slightly. Not enough to argue. Just enough to say try me.

Jay didn’t look away.

“So,” he said, voice dripping sarcasm. “I’m to be micromanaged for the next month by Miss Honors?”

“You’re to be held accountable,” the Headmaster replied, voice stern. “By someone who understands the responsibility your title carries. You're not just a student, Jay. If you're top of your class, it's time you act like it."

Silence.

“Are we understood, Mr. Park?”

Jay didn’t answer.

He stood slowly, the chair scraping back again as he pushed it away, and with one final glare that could’ve shattered glass, he turned on his heel.

And walked out.

You stood the moment the door clicked shut, smoothing the crisp pleats of your uniform and adjusting the bow behind your head. You didn’t need a mirror, you knew everything was in place. It always was. Your image was pristine. Polished. Perfect.

But your patience? Absolutely gone.

The moment they told you who you’d be paired with, something in you snapped like a frayed violin string. Park Jongseong. Park fucking Jongseong.

The bane of your existence since you were little. A pureblooded Alpha with more detentions than he had emotions. The only student who could match your grades and outmatch your blood pressure.

You hated him. Down to your last well-behaved nerve.

But of course, you smiled. Nodded. Bowed your head like the good little Omega everyone expected.

Until you walked out.

Jay was leaning against the wall just outside the office, arms crossed, head tipped back like he was the picture of unbothered royalty. But the moment your heels hit the marble, he lifted his head. His eyes raked over you once, and you didn’t miss the flicker in his gaze, a flash of recognition, followed by instant, irritated regret.

You looked perfect. As always.

Hair pinned into place with your signature ribbon, uniform wrinkle-free and tailored to academy standards, not a single thing out of line. Your heels clicked across the floor with infuriating grace, and your thigh-high socks—dress code approved, of course—drew eyes whether you wanted them to or not.

To Jay, you were the image of a perfect Omega.

Too bad you were a pain in his ass.

You brushed past him without a glance, your lavender perfume lingering in the air like a silent challenge. But Jay’s nose twitched, beneath the floral sweetness was the faint, sterile bite of scent blockers.

His sneer was instant.

And for some reason, that pissed him off more than it should’ve.

“I’m not doing your reports,” Jay muttered after you, voice sharp with disdain.

You stopped and turned on your heel with the calm of someone born to kill with kindness.

“Good,” you bit back, lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Because I wouldn’t trust you to spell your own name right on a cover sheet.”

Jay pushed off the wall, stalking forward with that arrogant, deliberate stride. “Keep talking, princess. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll forget you’re the one who begged the Headmaster to babysit me.”

Your jaw twitched. “I didn’t beg. I was assigned. Believe me, I’d rather chew glass.”

He stepped into your space, just close enough to make your skin crawl.

“You’d probably find a way to do it politely.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And you’d probably choke on it.”

The tension in the air snapped. His scent spiked, darker, colder.

“Let’s be clear,” you said, voice low. “You don’t scare me. You don’t impress me. And if you think I’m going to fall into line just because you’ve got a title and a family name—”

Jay leaned closer, a breath away from your face.

“You know, Jay, I don’t need you to fall in line. I just need you to keep up.” You laughed once—cold, and walked away, heels echoing like gunshots across the hall.

He watched you go. Jaw clenched. Eyes narrowed. Every inch of his body screamed irritation.

You were going to ruin his life even more than you already did.

It had been a week.

One whole week of walking down hallways like you didn’t want to claw each other's throats out, of sharing study sessions where pens nearly snapped from the pressure of your grip.

And now, here you were. Walking toward the council room, side by side with him.

Whispers followed almost immediately, they were sharp and insistent, bouncing off the marble halls like a chorus of disbelief.

“Are they seriously—”

“No way. They hate each other.”

“Didn’t (Y/N) throw a stapler at him in sophomore year?”

“I swear Jay once said she’d haunt his nightmares.”

You didn’t bat an eye. Jay didn’t, either. But the tension between you both was impossible to miss.

He reached for the heavy wooden doors first, pushing it open with a grunt, shoulders tense as he muttered under his breath, “Get your ass inside.”

You clicked your heels deliberately loud as you stepped in, pausing just long enough to throw him a side glance.

“How chivalrous,” you said, nose tilting upward with a picture-perfect scoff as you walked right past him.

Jay growled behind you, hands tightening at his sides as you strutted into the council room like it was your runway.

You took your usual seat beside Jake’s mate, crossing one leg over the other as you adjusted your skirt like it was second nature.

“There you are!” she gasped, pulling her phone out with a sparkle in her eyes. “Look, they dropped the preview for the new Dior line.”

You leaned in with genuine interest, annoyance dissolving for a moment as you gasped softly. “The saddle bag in navy, is that matte leather?”

“Yes!” she squealed. “But I can’t decide between that or the canvas one.”

“I’d go matte. It’s more timeless. We’re getting matching, right?”

Sunghoon’s mate slid into the conversation with a flawless grin. “I knew you two would be twins again. I’m getting the boots, though.”

Jake’s mate giggled. “We’re just waiting on the others. Where are they?”

You shrugged lightly, not even glancing up from the phone screen. “Saw them heading to the washroom a minute ago.”

As the three of you giggled and gushed over your plans, Jay dropped into his seat across the room with a sigh so heavy it practically echoed.

The chair creaked under him as he sank down, dragging a hand down his face before reaching into his bag to pull out the thick folder of budget reports he’d stayed up half the night organizing.

Sunoo rolled across the room in his chair with Ni-ki right behind him, both of them practically vibrating with the need to be menaces.

“Bro,” Ni-ki grinned, whispering, “we seriously thought you were kidding when you said (Y/N) would be up your ass.”

“She’s not just up there,” Sunoo added with a snort. “She built a house. Probably a pool too.”

Jay didn’t even bother looking at them. “She’s not up my ass. She is the pain in it.”

Despite the chaos, the other boys started to trickle in one by one—Jake, Jungwon, Sunghoon, and Heeseung—each taking note of your presence with quiet glances. They all knew the drill by now: acknowledge you, be polite, and above all… don’t spark anything.

They greeted their mates with soft smiles and casual kisses on the cheek, but when their eyes met yours, they all gave short nods and carefully neutral expressions. Polite, yes. Friendly, sure.

But when Jay was in the room with you, they kept everything restrained, their own mates sometimes exchanging glances that said, not today.

The murmuring died down when Jungwon cleared his throat and looked directly at Jay, motioning toward the front of the table. “Let’s get started,” he said simply. “Jay, you’re up.”

Jay stood with that usual bored elegance, flipping open his laptop and connecting it to the monitor in one smooth motion. The screen flickered to life, revealing a neat layout of monthly budget allocations, proposals, and expense reports.

He scrolled through his slides as he spoke, voice low, crisp, and straight to the point. “Quarterly allocations are being finalized. Clubs requesting additional budget this month include Performing Arts, and Athletics. Most proposals passed the standard review. Here’s the breakdown.”

Bar graphs. Pie charts. More numbers you couldn’t care less about, but you still kept your gaze steady. Even if he was a pain in the ass, Jay knew how to present well. Of course he did. He didn’t get to be top of the class and treasurer of the council without being dangerously capable.

But he wasn’t perfect.

You leaned back in your seat, arms crossed, eyes narrowing ever so slightly when a certain number blinked across the screen. He clicked to the next slide without pause.

You raised your hand.

Jay paused mid-sentence, jaw clenching for half a second before he forced his voice to stay even. “Yes, (L/N)?”

You uncrossed your arms slowly, tapping a manicured nail against your phone screen as you double-checked the file Jungwon had shared earlier. “You listed the Performing Arts’ costume fund under miscellaneous expenses. That’s a flagged violation from last semester’s audit. It’s required to be under equipment to fall within the allowed allocation.”

The room went still.

Even Ni-ki, who had been quietly fidgeting with Sunoo’s pen, stopped. Eyes darted between you and Jay like this was the moment someone’s house would be set on fire.

Jay blinked once. Twice.

He didn’t look at the screen. He didn’t need to.

His lips curled into a frown. “Noted,” he muttered, switching slides.

Still, you turned your eyes back to your phone with the same calmness as before, like correcting him wasn’t something worth breaking a sweat over.

Because it wasn’t, not to you.

The room stayed quiet even after the meeting wrapped up, the final slide lingering on the monitor like it was scared to leave before Jay did.

Jungwon began to close his notes, his mate already standing from her seat on the far end of the table. Without skipping a beat, she turned toward you with a practiced smile and a glint of urgency in her eyes.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, sliding her phone across the table to you, screen lit up with soft pastel colors and a fresh Louis Vuitton collection, “they finally dropped the new ribbon line. I’ve been waiting for this for weeks. You’re going to love this on, it’d look so good with your white blouse and that nude gloss you wore the other day.”

You blinked—just once—before your eyes lit up, your sharp features softening into something more playful as you leaned in. “Wait, that’s the one you mentioned at brunch? I thought they delayed the release?”

Jungwon’s mate grinned, clearly pleased with your reaction, and shot her Alpha a subtle wink as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Jungwon, who’d been standing by the head of the table with a clipboard in hand, caught the look and smiled faintly

Jay had stayed seated for a beat longer than usual, arms crossed, eyes unreadable. The low buzz of post-meeting chatter picked up as if nothing had happened, but the muscles in his jaw hadn’t quite relaxed.

You were too busy comparing satin tones with the other omega, voice light and sweet, like you hadn’t just called out one of the most feared Alphas in the room mid-meeting.

Then his voice cut through the chatter like a knife. Low, firm, utterly annoyed.

“We need to go. That report for the R&D proposal isn’t going to fix itself.”

He didn’t even spare you a glance, just pushed the door open halfway and walked out like the air in the room wasn’t worth breathing anymore.

The moment it clicked shut behind him, you blinked twice and muttered under your breath, loud enough for the right people to hear, “What an absolute dickhead.”

Heeseung’s mate laughed, hand immediately flying up to her lips, trying and failing to mask her laugh. Sunghoon’s mate nudged her sharply, eyes wide with warning, but even she had her knuckles pressed to her mouth to keep the giggle down.

You, ever the picture of grace, turned back to your girls with a polished smile and the kind of voice used at press conferences.

“Ladies, I’ll see you all tomorrow—don’t forget to reserve our usual table, alright?”

They nodded, still stifling laughter.

You leaned forward, placed polite air kisses on each of their cheeks, then straightened your skirt and flipped your hair over one shoulder with the elegance of someone about to chase after a walking migraine.

Then, with a sharp turn, your smile dropped. You stared down the half-open door like it insulted your entire lineage.

“God give me strength,” you mumbled under your breath, and scowled as you followed the retreating figure of Jay.

The two of you descended from the pristine council wing toward the private university parking lot, which gleamed with rows of high-end luxury vehicles.

Jay walked ahead like the world owed him something, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks, his white button-up rumpled, the two top few buttons left undone, hair tousled in that deliberately careless way, and his scent…

It had been faint earlier, he was clearly trying to suppress it—but now that you were outside, the sharp, rich scent of sandalwood and tequila started bleeding through.

It lingered in the air, bitter at the edges as his irritation was slipping through in whispers.

“You’re coming over,” Jay said, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your eyes snapped to the back of his head. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t even slow down. “To my house. We’ve got to fix the R&D layouts. I’m not failing just because you’re allergic to being useful.”

You scoffed. “I’ll send my revisions through email. You don’t need me breathing the same air.”

Jay turned his head just slightly, his lips curling into that condescending smirk that made your blood boil. “I already called your dad.”

Your steps halted. “You what?”

“I called him.” He stopped too, finally facing you with the kind of confidence that only someone who knew they were always five moves ahead could have. “He said—and I quote—‘Of course, anything for my favorite son.’”

Your entire body went rigid.

You didn’t reply. You didn’t trust yourself to. But your glare? Sharp enough to slice diamonds.

Jay’s smirk grew. “Aw. Don’t look so hurt.”

You pushed past him, determined to put space between you and his smug little existence, but fate, or something far more dramatic—had other plans.

The moment you spotted your car—your custom pearl-white Porsche Panamera GTS, trimmed in gold accents; your stomach dropped.

Both of your front tires were flat. Completely.

You blinked and looked again, still flat.

“What the actual fuck?”

Jay’s quiet, amused chuckle cut through your spiraling thoughts like a dagger. “Damn. Looks like you’re out of luck, princess.”

You turned toward him slowly. “If you had anything to do with this—”

“I didn’t,” he said immediately, voice too casual. “I don’t have time to sabotage your Barbie car. Besides, why would I? You’re already being forced into my passenger seat.”

He clicked his keys, and his black Ferrari 812 Superfast lit up like a siren call from hell. Powerful and loud, just like him.

You straightened your spine, clenching your jaw. “I could call a driver.”

Jay leaned back against his hood, crossing his arms. “Sure. Call him. He’ll get here in, what, forty minutes? An hour? Long enough for me to finish the whole thing myself and tell your dad you flaked.”

You inhaled deeply through your nose. The bitter twist in his scent was stronger now, like the burn of tequila was stronger. He was annoyed. And suppressing it. He could’ve easily let his Alpha pheromones flood out, scare you off. But he didn’t.

Not because he respected you.

Because he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of reacting.

“I hate you,” you said, voice dripping with venom.

Jay opened the passenger door like a damn chauffeur. “Get in.”

You stared at him for a moment. The door. The smirk. The scent. The absolute nerve of him.

Then you huffed, stepped forward with the grace of a practiced heiress, and climbed into the car like it offended you to touch it.

Jay slid into the driver’s seat without a word. The engine roared to life.

So did the silence.

So did the tension.

The hum of the Ferrari’s engine was a low, luxurious growl as it sped down the private road, headlights slicing through the evening haze. Inside, the silence was suffocating, except for the occasional click of the turn signal and the quiet sound of leather shifting under your movements.

You sat rigid in the passenger seat, arms crossed over your chest, gaze fixed on the window like you could pretend Jay didn’t exist a foot away.

But unfortunately, he did. In his own school uniform, shirt sleeves rolled just enough to show the veins on his forearms, tie tossed into the backseat, collar unbuttoned like the world bent to him instead of the other way around.

“You’re still handling the KBC merger reports?” he asked eventually, his tone low and clipped.

You didn’t look at him. “Obviously. My dad would have my head if I dropped the ball.”

Jay’s jaw flexed, one hand tightening on the wheel. “Yeah, mine too. Legacy, bloodlines, whatever. Apparently, being born rich means your life isn’t yours.”

You scoffed, brushing invisible lint off your pleated skirt. “At least they’re not trying to marry you off to some desperate heir from a dying charter airline.”

Jay’s head snapped toward you, just for a second. A twitch in his brow. A deeper furrow in his jaw. The kind of tension that wasn’t all anger but wasn’t calm either.

“What?” you muttered, catching the change.

He exhaled through his nose, eyes on the road. “Nothing. It's just stupid.”

The silence came again, colder now.

You tilted your head slightly, voice quieter. “It’s not like I’d ever say yes anyway.”

“Neither would I,” he said quickly, sharper than intended. Then he added, almost to himself, “Even if they tried.”

Another pause.

“Because you’re the golden boy,” you muttered.

Jay let out a humorless laugh. “Golden boys don’t get choices. They just get told who to be and when.”

You finally looked at him, eyes narrowing. “You are such a self-righteous ass.”

“And you’re a know-it-all omega with a god complex.”

Your lips twitched, annoyance blooming into something more twisted. “Still predictable, I see.”

“So are you,” he said, glancing at you sideways. “Still impossible.”

The silence that followed wasn’t calm. It simmered. Buzzed.

Because you weren’t just heirs to multi-billion dollar aviation empires—you were rivals. Old friends turned competitors.

You knew how he tapped his thumb against the steering wheel when he was deep in thought. He knew you always stared out the window when you were trying not to say something you’d regret.

You’d grown up together—vacation homes, shared private jet rides to summit meetings, side-by-side seats at galas and charity auctions. Him: the sharp-tongued pureblooded Alpha with the perfect face and a reputation that couldn’t be touched. You: the picture-perfect omega with a brain that could out-deal most adults in the boardroom.

But somewhere along the way, the teasing soured. The closeness cracked. And now, here you were, two loaded weapons in high-end school uniforms and too much shared history.

Jay pulled up to the gates of the Park estate, and even that was overkill.

Black wrought iron, towering and laced with gold detailing. The Park family crest—two outstretched wings around a crown that was stamped on the gate’s center. Guards in sleek black uniforms stood at attention on either side, already confirming Jay’s identity through biometric scanners built into the intercom posts.

The gates peeled open with a soft mechanical hum, revealing a winding driveway that looked more like a runway. Perfectly sculpted hedges ran along either side, interspersed with glowing path lights and imported pines.

The Park mansion wasn’t just big, it was power incarnate.

Limestone and ivory stone. Classical architecture with steel accents. Towering windows, slate rooftops, and a line of vintage jet turbine sculptures flanking the entry path. A private helipad lay just beyond the side courtyard. The entire estate was surrounded by land: quiet, cold, expensive.

Jay parked neatly at the base of the steps, but instead of grabbing his door first, he moved with quiet precision. You barely had time to touch your seatbelt before he was already out of the car and rounding the front.

You blinked as your door swung open.

Jay stood there, not meeting your eyes. One hand on the door, the other shoved into his pocket. His jaw was locked. His eyes fixed on the trees ahead, not you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Chivalry? From you? Again?”

“I’m not a monster,” he muttered.

You stepped out, ignoring the subtle warmth that hit your cheeks. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He let the door close behind you with a soft click. Then, voice dry and low, he added, “My mother didn’t raise a savage. I know how to handle an omega.”

You turned, fixing your uniform ribbon as you looked him dead in the eye. “Good. Handle yourself first.”

Jay’s lip twitched, whether it was a smirk or a sneer, you weren’t sure—and then he was already walking past you, up the stairs.

The massive front doors of the Park estate opened with a soft click the moment Jay reached them, as if the house itself recognized him.

Marble floors stretched endlessly beyond the threshold, gleaming under the glow of the chandelier above. The foyer was immaculate—pristine white walls, polished gold accents, and fresh lilies arranged delicately in a glass vase near the staircase. The air smelled like jasmine, aged oak, and old money.

Jay stepped in first, face unreadable, his blazer now slung lazily over one shoulder. You followed, brushing invisible dust from your pleated skirt.

Despite the animosity that practically radiated off Jay, he slowed his pace just enough to reach back and open the door for you, eyes flat and uninterested.

“Don’t read into it,” he muttered before you could even say thank you. “My mom didn’t raise a monster.”

“You sure?” you hummed back, voice laced with annoyance.

Before either of you could say more, a warm, familiar voice called from deeper inside the estate.

“Ah! Ms. (Y/N), welcome back!”

You turned to find Mr. Cho, the family’s long-time butler, walking towards you with a small, respectful smile. He took your bag as naturally as if he did this daily. “Shall I prepare your usual tea?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

“She doesn’t live here,” Jay muttered.

Mr. Cho remained unfazed. “Of course not, Master Jay. I was merely offering Ms. (Y/N) our hospitality. She always enjoyed the Kyoto chamomile.”

“Still does,” you added with a soft smile.

As Mr. Cho disappeared, a young maid passed by and paused when she saw you. “Ms. (Y/N)! I’ll have the blueberry cheesecake sent to the living room, just like last time.”

You blinked. “You still remember?”

“Of course! You always said it helped you focus during study sessions.”

Jay looked like he was physically restraining himself from exploding. The staff adored you. Genuinely. Fully. And not in the polite, distant way they treated him, but with familiarity. Like they cared.

And unfortunately for Jay, things only got worse.

A pair of footsteps echoed from the top of the spiral stairs. “Jay, darling—”

You turned just as Mrs. Park appeared at the landing. She was elegant in a soft blue silk dress, simple and flowing, sleeves delicately cuffed with pearl buttons. Her makeup was fresh, understated, and her smile lit up the room when she saw you.

“(Y/N)!” she practically sang. “Oh, what a pleasant surprise!”

You bowed your head slightly. “Good evening, Mrs. Park.”

Jay’s shoulders visibly tensed. “Mom.”

His mother didn’t even look at him. She descended the stairs with grace and opened her arms, embracing you warmly. “You’ve gotten even more beautiful. And that uniform on you—still so well-kept! You always take care of yourself.”

You smiled, still polite but not overly so. “You look amazing, ma’am. That dress is beautiful.”

She laughed, lightly patting your cheek. “Oh, this old thing? Thank you, dear. It’s one of my favorites, you like it?”

“I do, actually,” you said, fingers brushing the hem with admiration. “I’ve been looking for something similar. It’s the kind of style I’d wear even outside formal events.”

That made her beam. “You’ve always had taste. You’re so much like me when I was your age.”

Jay nearly gagged.

The conversation flowed naturall. It was as if you belonged in the Park household more than he did. Mrs. Park looped her arm through yours and began walking with you toward the living room.

“You know,” she said with a not-so-subtle glint in her eyes, “you’d make such a wonderful daughter-in-law.”

You choked on air.

Jay stopped walking entirely. “Mom—”

“I mean it! You’re smart, elegant, and you carry yourself so well. Our family just adores you, (Y/N). Don’t we?”

As if summoned, one of the estate's gardeners who’d come in to drop off fresh flowers—paused by the doorway. “Miss (Y/N)? Always so kind. The roses you suggested for the east garden look stunning now.”

You nodded, cheeks heating. “I’m glad they turned out well.”

Jay looked ready to combust. His jaw clenched. His eye twitched.

“She’s not here for dinner,” he reminded sharply. “She’s just here to make sure I don’t flunk some projects.”

You smiled sweetly at the older woman. “A job I take very seriously.”

His mother waved him off with a laugh. “Yes, yes. Academics. But it doesn’t hurt to get to know each other better, hmm?”

You chuckled nervously, but before the topic could spin further into dangerous territory, Jay suddenly called, “(Y/N).”

You glanced over. His tone was flat, but his eyes were sharp. “We should start,” he said.

You cleared your throat, nodding. “Of course.”

You didn’t rush after him. Of course you didn’t. You just turned to Mrs. Park with a polite nod and a small smile, excusing yourself with the grace of someone who had no interest in chasing after a moody boy.

Jay’s footsteps were already fading down the hallway as you began walking like the floor belonged to you too. Head held high. Skirt swaying. If he was going to call you princess, you’d damn well wear the crown.

By the time you stepped into the sitting room, the warm golds of the afternoon had dimmed into bluer hues, early evening creeping in with a hush. The chandelier above glowed brighter now, casting a soft sheen over everything, from the velvet couches to the massive coffee table between you and Jay.

He was already on the floor, back against the couch, legs spread like he owned the room, laptop balanced on one knee. He didn’t look at you when you entered, just clicked his pen and muttered, “Took you long enough.”

You dropped your bag on the opposite side of the table with just enough force to make a point. “I don’t run for anyone. You should know that by now.”

“I forgot,” he replied dryly. “Princesses don’t hurry after all.”

You sat down slowly, folding your legs beneath you with practiced poise, brushing imaginary dust off your skirt before pulling out your notes. “And crownless boys don’t get to comment on royalty.”

Jay looked up at you then, eyebrows arching. “That supposed to hurt?”

“No,” you said sweetly, flipping your folder open, “just a reminder.”

Between you, the oversized coffee table gleamed. A silver tray sat in the center, stacked with delicate desserts and a fresh pot of tea. You reached out carefully, nudging a teacup to the side to make space for your things.

Jay scoffed, eyeing the setup. “Of course she pulled out the royal treatment. Blueberry cheesecake, fresh tea… should’ve just set the dining table while she was at it.”

“She’s being kind,” you replied, tone cool, but your fingers tapped once against the table. “Something you could try once in a while.”

“I’m not fake,” he snapped. “And I don’t kiss ass to people who walk in like they already belong here.”

You looked up at him then, full stare. “You think I’m kissing ass?”

Jay met your eyes without flinching. “I think you’ve got everyone wrapped around your finger.”

You smiled, all teeth and ice. “Maybe that’s because I don’t sulk through life like a kicked puppy, Park.”

He barked a laugh. “You think you’ve got me figured out, huh?”

“No,” you said, pulling your textbook into your lap, “if I did, I wouldn’t waste my time talking to you.”

Jay reached forward without warning, sliding the cheesecake slightly closer to your side.

You blinked. “What, is this a peace offering?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, not looking at you. “You’re just less annoying when your mouth is full.”

You let out a quiet, sarcastic laugh. “Right. That ego of yours must need hourly feeding too, huh?”

Jay didn’t respond. He didn’t have to.

Because the silence that followed said enough.

It had been quiet. Too quiet.

Three hours in, and the tension that once burned like a wildfire had simmered into something else, maybe it was an unspoken truce, or maybe just mutual exhaustion.

Papers were scattered between you both. The once-pristine coffee table was now a war zone of half-solved equations, scribbled graphs, and open textbooks stacked like makeshift barricades.

The cake was mostly gone, your teacup emptied long ago. Even the silver fork had been abandoned at some point, lazily resting on a napkin with a streak of blueberry at the tip.

Jay was deep into the budget projections for next quarter, fingers tapping steadily against the keyboard of his laptop—when he suddenly paused.

Something felt off.

He frowned.

You usually threw in some sarcastic comment every twenty minutes. A jab at his handwriting. A smug comment about how even your cat could organize files better. A dramatic gasp every time he actually agreed with your suggestions.

Jay glanced sideways, and there you were.

Head resting on your folded arms, body slumped slightly forward. Breathing even. Completely still.

Your hair had slipped over your cheek, and the soft chandelier lighting caught on the curve of your nose, the edge of your lashes, the way your lips were ever so slightly parted in sleep. The rise and fall of your shoulders was slow and steady, peaceful in a way that didn’t match your usual fire. Even the stubborn furrow of your eyebrows had softened.

Jay stared for a second too long.

He narrowed his eyes, like he was trying to find a reason to roll them. But nothing came out of his mouth. No insult. No complaint.

Just a long, sharp sigh.

Because for fuck’s sake, even asleep, you had to look—ethereal. And worst of all? You looked peaceful. Something he hadn't felt in a long, long time.

He set the laptop down on the table with a soft click, leaned back, and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath, like it was your fault for being like this.

Then, with ease, Jay reached behind him, tugged his blazer off the couch, and stood. The fabric slid over his shoulder in one swift motion, and without a single dramatic exhale, he walked over to your side of the coffee table.

Each step was careful. Silent. Like the heir of one of the most powerful families in the country hadn’t just decided to play blanket-boy for the rival heiress who haunted his every waking moment.

He paused when he reached you, and watched just a second more.

Then he draped the blazer over your shoulders with slow, precise hands—adjusting it so the collar covered the back of your neck, fingers brushing against your arm for the briefest moment before pulling away.

And right when he was about to back away, you moved.

Jay froze. Held in a breath.

His hand stilled mid-air as your body instinctively curled further into the warmth. One soft nuzzle, and then…

You sighed contentedly.

Right into his blazer.

He stared like you’d just committed a crime.

He finally took a step back—reluctantly—and returned to his seat with a scowl trying to eat his face.

You weren’t supposed to be unguarded, you were supposed to be a brat—his bratty little academic babysitter.

Jay sighed again, loudly this time.

About thirty minutes later, you stirred.

It started slow. A flicker of your lashes. A barely-there shift in your breathing. A little crease between your brows as your body tried to figure out why it felt suspiciously cozy in the middle of an air-conditioned mansion that usually felt like the inside of a freezer.

You blinked, sluggish and dazed, slowly dragging yourself out of sleep. The world was quiet, too quiet. Just the faint hum of the AC, the occasional distant clink of dishware.

But more importantly—you were warm.

Your brain stalled. That… wasn’t right.

You shifted slightly and felt the weight of something thick and heavy draped over your shoulders. Your brows furrowed. And then—you inhaled.

And you knew.

The scent hit you like a truck—clean, sharp cologne, with his scent of cedarwood and tequila, something undeniably Alpha, something that was not yours, and it curled through your lungs like a goddamn curse.

Park Jongseong.

No. No, no, no.

You sat up an inch, heart hammering in your chest as your gaze dropped to the dark blazer now resting over your frame. His blazer. Neatly placed.

“What the f—” You didn’t even finish the curse. You were too busy spiraling.

When did he do this? Why did he do this? Was this a pity move? A trap? Was he trying to prove some twisted point? That he could be thoughtful or soft or human?

God, you hated him.

You hated that your first instinct was to pull it tighter around yourself because the warmth was just that comforting. You hated that it smelled like him, and that it wasn’t disgusting. You hated that your cheeks were warm and you didn’t know if it was the blazer or the mortifying realization that he’d seen you asleep and had the audacity to care.

You glared at it like it personally betrayed you.

You wanted to chuck it across the room, you wanted to march over to him and kick him in the shin with your heels, you wanted to scream and ask him what the hell he thought he was doing being—decent.

But just as you sat up, ready to commit violence, your gaze lifted—Jay was asleep.

Head down on the table the same way you had been minutes ago, lips parted just slightly, one arm bent awkwardly under his head, the other still loosely holding onto the edge of his laptop. His brows, usually furrowed in perpetual annoyance or superiority, were finally relaxed. His sharp jaw was tilted your way, soft in sleep, like even gravity didn’t dare ruin his symmetry.

And for a second—you stared, and God, He was gorgeous.

His dark blonde hair had fallen slightly over his forehead, just messy enough to make your stomach twist in frustration. His eyelashes were too long to be fair, brushing softly against his cheeks. His lips were tinted that stupid natural pink, curved in a way that would be charming if he wasn’t, well, him. His nose—the one you had once insulted out of spite for being too perfect, was somehow even more annoying up close.

The kind of beautiful that was cinematic.

The kind of beautiful that made your blood boil because it was attached to a man you actively fantasized about strangling.

You pressed your fingers to your temple, sighing quietly, mind racing with a war of contradicting thoughts.

You were this close—this close—to standing up and throwing the jacket at his face like a grenade. But your body betrayed you and stayed seated, clutching the fabric instead, heart still hammering.

This couldn’t be happening, he was Park Jongseong.

You groaned softly into your hands, blazer still wrapped around your shoulders like some cursed reminder of your ongoing descent into hell.

You had to leave.

Not because you were done. Not because you had calmed down. But because something about sitting here, wrapped in his blazer, watching him sleep, made you feel like you were standing on the edge of something you didn’t want to name. Something dangerous.

You didn’t do dangerous with Jay.

You did rivalry. Snark. Academic warfare. Arguments with sharp tongues and bitten-back smirks.

Not… this.

So, you moved.

As quietly as you could, you pulled away from the coffee table, the plush rug soft under your heels. You began packing up your things—the papers, the scattered pens, the flash drive you had almost forgotten. You glanced over at Jay once, just to make sure he was still sleeping. He hadn’t moved. Still slumped over the table like he was seconds away from snoring.

Then you reached up, fingers brushing the edge of the blazer still wrapped around your shoulders.

Returning it now would be the decent thing to do.

Which was exactly why you didn’t do it.

If you handed it back now, it would be simple. Done. Over.

But if you left with it? Oh, he’d hate it.

He’d hate that it would come back smelling like your expensive perfume—the one you wore to events just to piss off old men who said women should dress modestly and stay silent.

The one you wore like a weapon. Sweet, intoxicating, with a cold bite underneath. A perfect contrast to your scent-blockers, which left your natural scent unreadable by anyone—even him.

So yes, you were going to bring the blazer home.

Dry clean it? Of course. You weren’t a monster.

Smiling faintly, you folded the blazer over your arm and reached into your tote bag for a notepad. You scribbled something quickly, your handwriting elegant and infuriatingly neat.

You placed the note where his laptop used to be and glanced at him one last time. He was still dead asleep. You rolled your eyes.

“Of course you sleep like a rock when I actually have something to say,” you muttered under your breath.

With that, you turned on your heel and left the room.

You made your way through the quiet mansion, heels ticking softly against the polished floor, the gentle hum of the chandelier casting warm light over the entrance hall. The foyer was peaceful, bathed in a mellow amber glow that clung to the air like honey.

Jay’s mother sat near the base of the staircase, a tablet resting on her lap, glasses perched delicately on her nose. She looked up when she heard you, her expression instantly brightening.

“Oh, you’re leaving?” she asked, her voice soft but touched with disappointment.

You nodded politely, shifting the bag on your shoulder. “Yes, ma’am. It’s gotten pretty late, and I didn’t want to wake Jay. He looked… like he needed the sleep.”

She smiled knowingly. “He always overworks himself. But I was hoping you might stay a little longer.”

You blinked, a little surprised. “Really?”

“Of course.” She stood, placing the tablet aside and walking over to you, her lips curled slightly. “Your banter kept the house interesting today.”

You chuckled, genuinely this time. “I’m sure Jay would say otherwise.”

She reached out and gently pulled you into a light hug, arms warm and motherly around your shoulders. You stiffened for half a second, caught off-guard… and then relaxed. It was nice. Disarming. Familiar in a way that scraped against the icy corners you usually kept up.

You pulled back with a soft, genuine smile. “Thank you. For the tea. And the cake.”

She laughed lightly. “Come by again. Preferably when he’s less cranky.”

You grinned at that, nodding once. “No promises.” Then, ou stepped out into the evening.

Your driver opened the car door as you approached, holding it just long enough for you to slide in without needing to break stride. As you settled in, you kept Jay’s blazer folded neatly on your lap, fingers idly running over the fabric.

The car pulled away from the estate, disappearing into the night.

Back in the living room, Jay stirred.

His head ached in the weird, groggy way it always did after falling asleep at a desk. He sat up slowly, blinking at the dimmed lights and the stretch of silence around him.

Something felt off.

His eyes scanned the room. The papers had been tidied. Your bag was gone. And so was his blazer.

Then—he spotted the note.

Right where his laptop had been, placed delicately like a landmine dressed in silk.

He picked it up, already exhaling like he was bracing for a slap.

thanks for your stinky blazer, shit head. returning it ASAP. don’t miss me. — (l/n)

His jaw ticked.

“Stinky—are you fucking serious—”

He stopped, the words were ridiculous. Petty. Absolutely you. The handwriting? Annoyingly perfect. Not a single letter out of place.

Jay scowled, letting the paper crumple slightly in his hand.

But then, his scowl faltered.

It softened, not into anything gentle, but into a low, frustrated frown. The kind that twisted deep between his brows and lingered. He leaned back in his seat, note still in hand, blazer gone, and a sudden, unwanted awareness in his chest.

You’d worn his blazer. And you’d taken it with you.

His eyes slid to the spot where you’d been curled up not even an hour ago.

And then they narrowed.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath.

He stared at the note for another few seconds.

And then he folded it. Neatly. Slid it under his laptop.

He’d burn it later. Maybe.

Jay was spiraling.

Which was ridiculous, really, because Park Jongseong did not spiral. He was composed. In control. Cool, collected, cold even, especially when it came to you.

But as he stepped out of his sleek black car, designer shoes clicking against the pavement of the academy’s private parking lot, his jaw clenched. His usually sharp mind was fogged up with one thing and one thing only: you still had his blazer.

His personal, custom-fit, dry-clean-only, still-drenched-in-his-scent blazer.

And not just handed to you. No. He had fucking placed it over your shoulders like some old-school, gentlemanly, possessive courting maneuver from a textbook.

Which, in Alpha society, it kind of was.

His inner Alpha had been screaming about it since the moment he stepped out of the shower that morning. The memory hit him like a train—the sight of you curled up, breathing evenly, his blazer slipping slightly down your arm as you unconsciously pulled it closer. His scent wrapped around you.

He stopped walking. Just for a second. Just enough for his eyes to flutter shut and for him to mutter under his breath, “Shit.”

Then he straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and shoved the panic down where he shoved everything else he didn’t want to deal with. You probably still had i. Or worse, you were going to return it drenched in your expensive perfume, just to rub salt in the wound.

His hate for you burned hotter.

By the time he reached the student council wing, his expression was blank again. He adjusted the strap of his bag, reached for the door to the council room—and paused.

There were voices inside. Heated ones.

He slowly pushed one of the double wooden doors open only to be met by the searing glare of Jake’s mate.

Usually the quiet one. Reserved. Soft-spoken. But right now? Absolutely fuming.

She was already standing, arms crossed so tight it looked painful, expression twisted in something close to betrayal under the soft chandelier light.

“Jay, I thought you hated (Y/N)?”

Jay blinked. “I do.”

“Then why the actual fuck would you give her your blazer?!”

He opened his mouth to speak. Then shut it.

She stormed a few steps closer, each one heavier with rage.

“That’s a courting gesture, you moron! That’s like waving a giant flag in Alpha society! Do you not think before you act? Or did your brain short-circuit the moment she looked remotely human to you?”

Jake, from behind her, threw his hands up like a hostage. “Nope. Not getting in the middle of this. She’s gonna kill me, man. Don’t even look at me.”

Jay stared at him. “Get your girl.”

Jake shook his head even faster. “Hell no.”

“You do realize stepping into an omega’s wrath is like signing a death warrant, right?” Heeseung added lazily from the couch, sipping his coffee with a smirk. “Might as well start drafting your will.”

Jungwon didn’t say anything, but he shared a look with Heeseung that said it all.

Jay dragged a hand down his face and sighed heavily, the ache behind his temples pulsing stronger with each passing second. “This is all your fault,” he muttered.

Jake’s mate’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “My fault?”

Jay gestured vaguely toward the air, the universe, toward you—wherever the hell you were. “Yes. Yours. Hers. Everyone’s.”

She looked ready to lunge at him.

Jay turned on his heel and strode right back out of the room, tossing over his shoulder, “Unbelievable.”

The door thudded shut behind him, muffling the noise.

The afternoon sun poured in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, catching in the glossy floors as you walked side-by-side with Heeseung’s mate, laughing about something stupid from earlier that morning.

“Seriously though,” she giggled, bumping her shoulder lightly against yours, “you and that old history teacher— I thought he was gonna combust when you corrected him in front of the whole class.”

You laughed, bright and easy, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “Not my fault I actually read the assigned chapters.”

She snorted, tossing you a fond look. “You’re dangerous.”

You grinned back. “Tell that to Park. He still thinks I’m a walking plague.”

Unknowingly, you and Heeseung’s mate stole every pair of eyes in the hall.

Heads turned. Conversations faltered mid-sentence. It was impossible not to notice the two of you—two Omegas, looking every bit the part, effortless and untouchable, with unreal beauty and an almost unfair kind of perfection. Every step you took seemed to hum with power, the kind that made even passing Alphas stop in their tracks just to get another look.

Jay caught sight of you just as he rounded the corner, heading lazily toward the vending machines.

He told himself to keep walking. To pretend he hadn’t seen you.

But the second Heeseung’s mate chirped something about using the bathroom and peeled off with a wave, leaving you alone—he moved.

In three long strides, he was in front of you. You barely had time to blink before his fingers wrapped tightly around your wrist.

“Hey!” you protested, yanking instinctively, but his grip was iron, burning against your skin.

“What the hell, Park—”

“Shut up,” he hissed under his breath, casting a quick glance down the hall where classroom doors remained closed and the faint sound of teachers’ voices carried through the cracks. Without waiting, he dragged you with him, your heels skidding against the marble as you struggled to dig your heels in.

“Let me go!” you seethed, twisting in his grasp. “You’re insane—!”

Jay didn't spare you even a look. He hauled you to the very end of the corridor, shoving you back behind one of the thick stone pillars that lined the old architecture of the school.

You stumbled, slamming into the cold stone, only to find Jay caging you in, one hand pressed hard against the pillar beside your head, the other still wrapped tight around your wrist.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you snapped, glaring up at him.

Jay’s eyes were burning—not with heat, but with something more violent. Dark, furious. Dangerous.

“Where is it?” he demanded.

You blinked. “Where’s what?”

“My blazer,” he gritted out. His gaze flickered down your figure, eyes narrowing when he saw the clean navy blue blazeryou were wearing —your own—instead of the one he had forced on you last night. His jaw tensed so hard it could’ve been carved from stone.

A laugh tore out of your throat.

“Ohhh,” you drawled mockingly. “That.” You leaned back against the pillar, smirking up at him. “I left it in the council room hours ago.”

“You’d know that if you actually showed up for your own responsibilities instead of lurking around like a damn creep,” you said sweetly, dripping venom with every word.

Something flickered dangerously in his gaze. His hand slammed harder against the stone, right by your ear, but you didn’t even flinch.

If anything, you pushed closer, close enough to catch the faintest trace of his scent still clinging to your skin, stubborn even after all these hours.

“You’re unbelievable,” Jay muttered, his voice low and rough.

“Right back at you, Park,” you sneered. “Next time you want to play knight in shining armor, pick someone who actually wants your damn jacket.”

Jay’s breathing was harsh, every muscle in his body visibly tense. “You think you know everything, don't you?" he bit out.

“I know enough,” you shot back. “I know you hate me. And guess what, Park? I hate you more.”

The tension between you two was electric, suffocating, so thick you could practically taste the anger rolling off him in waves. Your heart hammered in your chest—not from fear, but from the pure adrenaline of it all.

His gaze dropped to your lips for the briefest, most dangerous second.

No. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t dare.

Finally, with a furious, muttered curse under his breath, Jay ripped himself away from you like you physically burned him, storming down the hall without another word.

You stayed leaning against the pillar for a second longer, catching your breath, a small, wicked smirk curling on your lips.

Without hesitation, you pushed yourself off the cold stone with a deep breath, smoothing down your skirt like it could fix the way your blood was still rushing hot under your skin.

You turned the corner—and there she was, Heeseung’s mate leaning casually against the wall, waiting exactly where she said she would.

She didn’t say a word when her eyes landed on you. Just smiled softly and reached out, fingers deft as she adjusted the ribbon tied at the back of your head.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice light but her gaze a little too knowing.

You just smiled, slow and sweet, like you weren’t still shaking a little on the inside. “Perfect,” you lied easily, eyes twinkling with mischief.

She narrowed her eyes, clearly not believing you for a second, but said nothing else. Only slipped her arm through yours again, guiding you both back down the hallway toward your next class.

The council room was packed.

The long conference table overflowed with council members and their mates—Heeseung and his omega tucked close together at one end, Jungwon whispering something that made his mate giggle, Jake and his tossing casual grins across the table, Sunghoon lounging like a king with his arm slung behind his omega's chair.

Even Sunoo’s mate was there, perched elegantly beside you.

The air was thick with bodies, with heat, with the buzzing undercurrent of alphas, betas, and omegas crowding too close.

But you only saw one person. Jay.

You sat poised, the sharp line of your jaw held high, your nails—perfectly manicured, painted a sleek, mocking black; tapping against the folder in front of you.

You stared at him like you could set him on fire.

And Jay—that cocky bastard, barely spared you a glance.

Sunoo’s mate leaned toward you, voice soft. “Hey, Y/n. After this, can you help me with the decorations list—?”

“Of course,” you answered smoothly, your tone light and sweet, but your eyes never once left Jay.

You watched as he lazily flipped a page, jaw ticking ever so slightly.

He knew you caught the mistake in the proposal you worked on together, the one he touched last without telling you.

You could practically feel the smugness radiating off him, like he thought it wasn’t a big deal.

It was a big deal. And you wanted to gut him for it.

Jungwon’s voice rang loud and clear from the head of the table, “Meeting adjourned.”

Chairs screeched against the marble floor instantly, papers shuffled, and the whole council meeting room turned into a buzzing hive of motion and noise as everyone started packing up.

And just when it should’ve ended neatly—

Jay pushed off his chair with a lazy, almost predatory grace. Slamming his palm hard enough against the table that several people jumped, including you, though you masked it behind a lazy blink.

Heads whipped towards him.

Jay just smiled—that slow, confident, devastating smile that made you want to slap it off his face with your perfectly manicured hand.

“Party at my place tomorrow night,” he announced, voice booming across the council room like thunder.

“Bring everyone. Seniors, juniors—hell, bring half the damn school if you want. I want it packed.”

A collective gasp, then a loud eruption of cheers and whistles filled the air.

Someone from the Public Relations Committee actually banged a fist on the table in excitement. Another kid from Jungwon’s group whooped so loudly, it startled Heeseung.

Jake whistled low and threw an arm around his mate’s shoulders, grinning wide. Ni-ki immediately started planning out a playlist with two of the juniors trailing behind him like excited puppies.

Sunoo’s mate leaned in to whisper something excitedly into your ear about outfits—but your eyes stayed locked only on Jay. You barely heard anything over the roaring in your blood.

Jay wasn’t looking at anyone else. He was looking straight at you, one brow cocked high like a fucking challenge, daring you to say something.

The way he stood there, hands in his pockets, broad shoulders soaking up every ounce of attention in the room like he owned it—like he owned you.

You felt your jaw clench so tight your teeth ached.

Jay’s smirk grew wider.

He was baiting you, he wanted you angry, he thrived off it.

You lifted your chin higher, giving him a lazy, mocking once-over, from his disheveled tie down to the way his expensive shoes tapped against the marble floor like he couldn't stand still.

Jay’s smile faltered for half a second.

Sunoo’s mate nudged you, beaming. “What are you wearing to the party?”

Without tearing your glare away from Jay, you answered smoothly, “Whatever works.” Your voice was sweet as syrup but your eyes spat venom across the room at the boy you hated most.

Jay’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, a slow, dangerous movement that made your stomach twist—in rage.

He tilted his head at you, smirking wider, like he was thinking the exact same thing.

The room swirled with laughter and plans and wild energy, but right then, it felt like only you and him existed.

Two storms waiting to crash into each other.

And when he finally tore his gaze away to clap Jungwon on the back and bark out something about making it the best party of the year.

You were left standing there, fuming, heart racing, hands trembling slightly from the effort it took to keep yourself composed.

The war had just begun.

And Jay had just thrown the first grenade.

⤷ read part 2 here !

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