#lucky for you i think it's the latter

[alarrytale]

I always think Louis is very comfortable when he's with a woman doing stunts. There is always a lot of PDA and he doesn't feel uncomfortable. I often even think that he is not gay. You say it's because he became friends with these women, which for me just makes it even worse. Can you imagine being friends with a woman who is paid to keep you in the closet?

Hello, anon!

You say it's because he became friends with these women. I have never said this. You've sent me three messages now about me having said this. I haven't. What i did say was that i think he parted on good terms with D. By that i mean they didn’t want to kill each other by the end and they were both thankful it was over. No hard feelings. I also said about Alycia (who he's never had as a beard) that maybe, maybe being the operative word, they became friendly, not friends, when Louis scouted her to become his beard. By friendly i'm implying they struck a chord with each other, most likely because she's also queer so they relate to each other.

Louis absolutely can't do pda with women in a way that's even remotely convincing. He's highly uncomfortable, his body is rigid and it looks very awkward. In some cases it looks like he's her gay bff. He also doesn’t do pda very often because he's can't sell it. He can't even hold hands properly.

No, i can't imagine Louis being friends with a woman who is paid to keep him in the closet. He's never been friends with any of them either, so what's your point exactly?

[lgbtlunaverse]

While I think the moment in cql where Meng Yao– still bleeding from a stab wound in his chest btw– realizes Lan Xichen is in danger and decides to save the man who was so kind to him in cloud recesses is cute and all, nothing will ever beat the book for me. Little bookkeeper civilian Meng Yao, who has not had a serious chance to make his dreams of being a cultivator come true in fucking years, out of nowhere gets the fucking sect leader of Gusu Lan dropped right in his lap?

It's such a great example of Meng Yao's multilayered motivations to me. Because is civilian Meng Yao thinking of all the ways he can use this? Of the fact that having a great sect leader in his debt is the best thing that could happen to him? Duh. Obviously.

Is he very purposeful about appearing to Lan Xichen as a kind young man full of untapped potential, brave and willing to put his life on the line even though he really doesn't know so much about about cultivators, no sir, except a little he picked up here and there, because you see his father– 👉👈 Of course he is!

But the way through which he does that is... by actually saving Lan Xichen's life, at no doubt significant personal risk. The way he makes Lan Xichen believe he's kind and selfless is by... being kind and selfless. Just because he's doing it on purpose doesn't mean he's not doing it.

Is it lying if you want people to think you're nice and so you're nice to them? Isn't that just called being nice? Yes, he is very purposeful about how he appears to people, and very carefully crafts an image based on what he wants them to think of him, but most of the time he does that simply by... actually being the kind of person he wants to appear as. He still did the kind things he did, regardless of his motivations for doing them.

[throughpatchesofviolet]

I think what makes these harder Mirror Dungeons and Refraction Railway so special to me is the number of times I say, "I trust [Sinner]," or, alternatively, "I believe in [Sinner]."

Because, yes, ultimately is is my own knowledge and strategy that pulls through, but it feels special when I imagine I'm placing my trust in them. And thinking about it like that makes me imagine how they'd react to Sherry saying those things. She trusts them; she believes in them; she knows that, no matter what, they will pull through. I'm certain hearing her say those things would mean something to them.

[whorelaud]

pornstar!rafe fucking staff!reader in the bathroom during filming break warnings smut, unprotected p in v, bathroom sex, creampies, slight degradation & praise 

Three minutes. The announcement made you clench around Rafe’s cock, chasing after your climax as it builds with each time the latter buckles his hips inside you. Your fingers seeked his shoulders, holding him close while he still thrusts into you, attention fixed on his sweaty figure as it slams onto yours.  

“Hurry, we’re going to get caught.” You warned, throwing your head back when Rafe’s hand cupped one of your tits, taking it in his hold as he rolled your now hardened nipple in between his fingers, admiring the way you squirmed underneath him; rolling your hips up to chase after the fraction. “Rafeeee ‘please.” 

“Such a fucking slut.” He grunted, inserting his fingers in your mouth, a mere attempt of blocking your muffled whines from getting you caught. Don’t get him wrong, he loves hearing you moan his name while he fucks you senseless, the thrill of knowing others could walk in at any given moment, well aware you’d let him continue, desperate to have his cock inside you, however, he wasn't risking it, not when this bond was forbidden, out of the picture. “Look at you, moaning my name like I fuckin’ own you, huh? You’ve been eyeing me this whole time, couldn't wait to have my dick inside you, did you?”

You nod in response, unable to coherent a proper sentence without crumbling in his hold; though his fingers were part of the reason why. You pressed your back to the wall, wrapping your legs firmly around his waist, the gesture causing Rafe to fasten his pace, his thrusts instantly growing sloppy inside you. You would've fully screamed, if not for the digits in your mouth. 

You couldn't believe this was happening, Rafe?

You’ve been working under Rafe’s management for a bit over a year now, wanting nothing more than to get a taste of him, admire from afar in hopes of ever having his cock inside you, knees growing weak each time he’d brush past you, as you later found yourself in your bed, pumping your fingers into your soaked cunt, wishing it was his throbbing cock instead. 

And now, it was finally happening, as Rafe dragged you to the bathroom, giving you no time to process the situation before his cock was pulsing inside you, filling up your insides as your hole swallows his length whole. A whine muffled its way out of your throat, digging your nails into the blade of his shoulders, when you felt your orgasm building up. 

“I’m close.” You announced, breath heaving when Rafe’s hips slammed into you, thumb trailing down to your core, with the intention of finding your clit. He rubbed circles to your nub, smirking when you grew sensitive in his hold. 

“Think you can handle it, hmm?” Rafe questioned, teeth grazing over the lobe of your ear. “Want me to cum inside you and make a mess out of your needy pussy, baby? You' gonna walk out there with my cum inside you?” 

“Rafe please.” You mewled, “Jus’ do it.”

That’s all it took before Rafe was cumming inside you. The latter buckled his hips into your cunt, groaning as your legs trembled in his arms, announcing your orgasm in the process. Your heavy breaths were the only thing heard as you came down from your high, slowly fluttering your eyes open to meet Rafe’s. He was already staring at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips upon seeing your flustered expression. 

“We’re fucked if the director finds out, you know that?” You whispered, shying away from Rafe’s gaze. 

“Oh, I know.” He emphasized on the ‘know’, leaning down to plant a soft kiss to your lips. “You’re lucky I love your pussy, baby. I’m willing to sacrifice my job for you.” 

“Do you say that to every girl you fuck?” 

[ghoulphile]

sticky fingers | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, squirting, rough sex, size kink, standing doggystyle, overstimulation, teasing, choking, dacryphilia, cooper howard is his own warning (he nasty y'all), canon compliant - takes place around ep 7, a grab bag mix of the show and the games ➥ summary | “Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.” ➥ notes | i love my men like i love my beef jerky 🫠 i wrote this over 16 fevered hours after finishing the finale. hope you enjoy~ minor edits 4/22/24 | x posted to ao3 | masterlist | feedback is always appreciated ❤️ feel free to send in thots, questions, requests!

It begins, as most things in the Southwest Commonwealth do, with a fight for survival.

City life is tough to be sure, but here on the outskirts of pocket civilizations where there’s nothing but long stretches of desolate wasteland - arid, sunbaked earth and scorched shrubbery - for miles around?

Well, if the ferals, fiends, and super mutants don’t get you in the night, then the desert itself will. During the day the sun burns overhead so nuclear hot, heat glimmers on the horizon in dancing waves.

Unforgiving, relentless as blink-and-you-miss-it mirages are swallowed by ever shifting sands.

It’s easy to get lost.

Even easier to boil alive in your armor if you’re unprepared.

Far too many travelers from the Eastern Commonwealths have met their demise here, where shade is sparse, and water even moreso. The rain - if it does blow in over the mountains - brings rad sickness.

If you’re lucky enough to still be alive, the only reprieve from the heat is in the stooped bones of bombed buildings and ramshackle shacks... where you're just as likely to catch a knife in the back from a chem fried addict as you are relief.

Because here, in the Wastes, danger lurks in sand and shadow alike.

You don’t trek out into the flats half-cocked: a fact all locals know. And if you do decide to? Well, you learn one way or another.

No, only the truly ignorant - or the desperate - dare to tempt man and nature.

Consequently, as you dust off the crumbs from the last half of a Fancy Lads Snack Cake and suck a melted smear of icing from your thumb, you're of the latter half.

You tried holding off for as long as you could. But once the shakes started, you knew you couldn’t put off eating lest you pass out and wake up in a slaver camp.

Well, shit, you think as you rattle a dented canister of purified water. This fucking sucks.

Almost going cross-eyed, your tongue hovers under the rim as you watch the last lazy drop fall free. You catch it with a grimace, smacking your lips. The water tastes metal warm in your sour mouth, barely enough to wet your whistle - let alone your thirst.

You began rationing the last of your supplies days ago, and it’s been a battle against light-headedness ever since. Pretty soon you won’t have the strength to defend yourself, scavving be damned.

Come on. Think - gotta think. What can I scrap for caps?

Not only is Filly more than half a day away, Ma June isn’t one for charity cases. The fact she offered twenty extra caps last time for some burnt books and bent bobby pins was as close as you were ever going to get to a Wasteland miracle.

Sunken cheeks and pleading eyes can only get you so far; everyone’s gotta eat.

"Fuck..." The palms of your hands grind into your eye sockets until you see stars. "FUCK!"

There are two unspoken laws in this otherwise lawless land: steal or starve, live or die. A grim reminder that surrounds you in old bleached bones, empty bullet casings, and scraps of cloth fluttering in the breeze.

Someone always has to be top dog. If you’re lucky, they might be willing to share their spoils.

It’s as you’re considering what pieces of yourself you’re willing to barter that you see them. On the horizon, coming from the west, are two dark blobs.

Stark against the flat plains - a shining beacon of salvation - is a man in a ratty duster and cowboy hat. The saddlebag tossed over his shoulder bounces with his steps while a dog trots beside him, its sable coat rippling with muscle.

Pay dirt.

Making sure to keep low and distant, you stalk them. Watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When the sun dips low, the sky a swath of pale pink and gold, they make camp at a blown-out Drumlin Diner. Off in the distance, thunder rumbles and sickly clouds gather.

Dark and roiling, acid green; a Radstorm brewing.

Electricity cracks at your skin, stands your hair on end. You scrub your hands over your arms, huddling into yourself for warmth. Meanwhile, the stranger seems to luxuriate in the budding promise of rad rain.

He lounges under an awning, his back pressed against a defunct Nuka Cola fridge. He gazes in the direction of the oncoming weather while mindlessly running his fingers through the dog’s fur as it curls up against his legs.

Occasionally, its ears twitch, and its eyes crack open.

Whenever it glances in your direction, you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut but it never gives any other indication that it notices your presence.

A small mercy you’re thankful for.

While you’re a pretty good shot, your body is weak with hunger. Besides, you have quick hands and light feet. There’s no doubt you can stealth your way in and out before he realizes his pack is lighter than he left it.

You’ll only take what you need - not interested in causing any more trouble than is necessary. Some food, maybe something to drink if he can spare it, and something to pawn. Just enough supplies to get you sorted in Filly.

Anyway, he certainly isn’t hurting for it by the look of things.

Any guilt you felt was short-lived when he settled down after dropping his pack inside, walking out with an inhaler of Jet in one hand and a can of Cram in the other.

Watched, greedy, as he cracked it open and picked at the tin of meat with lazy fingers. Salivated as he sucked them clean in between deep pulls of chem.

Soon, you decide, licking your lips as he chews, swallows. Soon.

However when push comes to shove, the stranger proves far more keen than you give him credit for.

The world spins like a hit of Daytripper, a kaleidoscope of color as your skull bounces off the wall with a loud crack. Air rushes from your lungs as something huge - hot and heavy - slams into you from behind.

Pins you against the wall with ease as your ears ring.

Something rattles loose; your teeth too large and your tongue too thick. Warm metal floods your mouth as the side of your face throbs in time with the rabbit fast stutter of your heartbeat.

Pain sparks and your stomach rolls.

"Wha's?" you slur, thoughts dripping like wax. "Wh-at's..."

Meanwhile, a gloved hand lassos around your throat like a collar. Brute fingers squeeze the tender flesh of your jugular until you hear your pulse in your ears. Senses struggling - sluggish to adjust in the encroaching night - as tiny cavities eat at your vision, little pockets of darkness.

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal," a gruff voice mocks. “Betcha thought you was real slick, huh? Tch. You ask me, you’re dumber than shit, Darlin'.”

Trying to regain your bearings, you shake your head only to groan. “I don’t - ‘m not -” It’s difficult to concentrate, a throbbing tempo taking up residence in your temples. The words come slow. “Wha’d you mean?”

He whistles, long and low-pitched, "D’ya have any idea who you're fucking with?"

“N-No…”

“How’s about I show you, then?”

Warm breath puffs over the shell of your ear, a tongue sliding out to trace along the lobe. You jolt, squirming in discomfort as he crowds closer.

“Tasty lil thing like you, wrapped up all nice and pretty just for me." He chuckles. "Why, it must be Christmas.”

What the hell is he talking about?

It’s hard to breathe with his heavy weight suffocating you; the scent of gunpowder and bitter smoke clogging your nostrils with every labored inhale. His lips - ragged - scrape over the nape of your neck.

The grip on your throat squeezes once, twice; leather sticks to your sweaty skin.

You squint your sore eyes, taking in the faint flickers of firelight that spill through the open doorway. The desert chill of night has settled in, creeping through the busted out windows to dig beneath your padded armor.

Thunder rumbles directly overhead as lightning follows in flashes of acid green. It’s only a matter of time before sheets of rain come pouring down; the air sticky with humidity, trembling with energy.

The Radstorm has finally arrived.

You’ll undoubtedly get sick if you leave the shelter of the diner - might even die from it if you can’t afford or find any RadAway. But as the stranger’s chest digs into your shoulders, and the dog curls up in the corner - uncaring of your plight as its nose tucks into the whip-thin tail - you think you’ll take your chances.

Tilting back to glance at him from over your shoulder through damp eyes, you say, “Look--”

Only his hand moves, viper quick, as it slides from the front of your neck to the nape. Strong fingers clamp down like a vice, like scuffing an unruly dog.

He grinds your face into the wall, rough metal shredding your cheek.

You cry out, a soft, pained little thing that echoes through the empty diner.

“Now why’d you gotta go an' make me do that?”

A phantom glimpse told you all you needed to know; broad jaw, thin lips, a hollow nasal ridge, creeping radiation burns and cracked skin. Ghoul.

“Let’s try this again, Sugar.”

His free hand - sans glove - creeps over the curve of your hip to splay along the swell of your belly, fingers tucking up under the hem of your shirt. You shiver at the stroke of roughened skin.

“Don’t take another peep or I might jus' have ta pluck out those pretty eyes of yours.”

Dread pools low in your gut, a leaden ball.

Everything in you screams: RUN, RUN, RUN.

Alarms blare but you freeze. Stare straight ahead at the featureless wall, eyes wide and unseeing. Through the foggy mire of your thoughts - half formed and shapeless - you have enough presence to understand the precarious nature of your position. 

Heart hammering, you plead for mercy, “Please, I’m - I’m sorry.”

"Aw, ain't that real sweet?" He remains impassive, unmoved. "The little thief does got some manners after all."

Without warning, the sharp toe of his cowboy boot kicks apart your feet. In the ensuing empty space between your thighs, his leg slots into place. Spurs dig into the tender meat of your ankle, little kisses of pain, as his hips rut forward against your ass.

You choke on your spit, pulse jumping in your throat.

"H-Hey, that's..." You attempt to shove at any part of him you can reach to no avail. Built and broad with compact muscle, it's like trying to move a brick wall. "I said I was sorry, okay!"

He ignores you, burying his face into the space behind your ear. A deep inhale sounds next to your head, the expansion of his chest against your back so firm you're not sure you won't fuse together.

The whiskey rough groan he releases does wicked things, makes your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Full of grit and gravel as his cock twitches against your backside, a burning line of heat.

A shiver ricochets down your spine.

He grunts, says, "Mm, you smell good enough ta eat."

The cap of his knee nudges up against your clit with a sudden jolt, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a sob threatens to scrape its way up from the depths of your throat.

You swallow, mouth desert dry. "Come on, let's just forget all about this, yeah?" you reason. "No harm done. I'll even give you whatever I've got left so - so..."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the vibration rattling through your chest. "So?" he prompts, plucking at the waistband of your trousers.

"So let me go?"

"Now why would I go an' do an asinine thing like that?" he replies. "If you think you can buy your freedom, think again, Sweetheart."

Rain pings off the metal roof, the smell of pungent ozone and rusting metal wafting in through busted windows and open doors.

“'Sides,” he pauses to turn your attention outside, “I’d hate ta have you yakin’ before the fun’s even started.”

There’s no way to misconstrue his meaning when he punctuates the statement with a teasing rut of his hips. Those rugged fingers tug open the clasp of your trousers, yank until the material goes slack and pools around your ankles.

“Hey, wait--!”

You jolt, hands scrambling for purchase as he slides his leg against your core. The friction of his pants through your thin cotton underwear makes you ache.

Ripping through your bottom lip, blood beading to the surface, you choke on a high-pitched whimper. "I..."

There's no way he can't feel your reaction.

How quickly you're getting wet as he drags you along the length of his thigh while yanking your hips back into the cradle of his pelvis. You meet him in a slow grind that boils your blood and steals the breath from your lungs.

It’s been - shit - far too long since you’ve felt anything other than hunger, thirst; the animal drive to keep pushing forward.

"You like this, don'tcha?"

You hear the dagger-sharp smile hidden in his words.

He croons, "What would your fellow smoothies think, huh? Here you are lettin’ a ghoul get you all hot n bothered - and you’re lovin’ it. Ain't you?"

You throb in response, heat stealing its way into your cheeks as you turn your head away in shame. His dark chuckle lets you know he felt the squeeze of your thighs, the rock and dip of your hips against his knee.

"I - I don't..." you stutter, struggling for a retort. “I’m not--”

A tremble works its way through your body, crushed as you are between the rad warm burn of his body and the wall. Completely at his mercy as you try to figure out where it all went wrong and what you can do to worm your way out of this one.

Terrified of what'll happen if you stay, terrified of what'll happen if you go; stuck in limbo as what was meant to be a simple grab-and-dash devolved into this confusing cluster of shame and lust.

You loathe the embers of desire kindling to life low in your belly.

"You really outta start bein' more honest, Sweetheart."

A large hand dips beneath the worn band of your underwear, and you wait with baited breath. Helpless as calloused fingertips brush over the swell of your mond.

Your inner thighs are uncomfortably sticky with slick, and your eyes burn in humiliation. Your throat trembles around all the words you want to say.

"Didn't anyone teach you lyin' was bad?" he asks rhetorically as his fingers slip down to play with the swollen bud of your clit, tapping lightly.

You keen, low and wounded.

Short nails dig into your palms as you flex your hands for want of something to grab onto.

“I am being honest,” you bite out through grit teeth. Sweat dapples your furrowed brow. “Just lemme go, please.”

"I find that hard ta believe," he replies. "Sorry to say, but you're shit at lyin'. Just look how hungry your lil cunt is for me."

It’s the only warning you get before those long digits plunge deep inside, two becoming three as they stretch you wide. Hollow you out; knuckles massaging your entrance as the tips prod along the sensitive front wall of your cunt.

You clamp down with a strangled moan. “Shit!”

This is a horrible idea - but it’s been forever and a day since you’ve felt anything other than your own touch.

Whether it be the bone-deep loneliness you’ve been shoving down for months or the sudden, inexplicable need for contact, you long for a reminder that you’re still alive.

That you’re not some wrath of the Wasteland filled with sand and blood, doing whatever it takes to survive in a place that would rather see you fail.

“I - I’m not sure.”

He snorts but offers no council or reassurances, using his free hand to yank at the back of your head in impatience. While it might’ve been a fairer fight if you weren’t in such bad shape, there’s no denying that he’s proven himself to be more adept.

Stronger, quicker.

This is going to happen either way.

And that turns you on - even though you feel like it shouldn’t.

If you give in, if he forces you to give in, it’s not really your fault then, is it? You can enjoy it because you have no choice.

Fuck it, you think, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the side in submission.

Like a doll with cut strings, all the fight drains from your body and you’re left sharing space. The ghoul is a furnace of heat behind you, barely any space to breathe he’s crowded so close.

His cock thickens where it digs into the soft fat of your ass, as large and intimidating as the man himself. “Now stay still for me.”

The or else goes unspoken.

Then he’s stepping away, a rush of cold air filling the empty space at your back.

You shiver, tempted to turn around. Maybe make a run for it. The only thing stopping you is the awareness that his threats aren’t so idle. In your experience, it’s far better to befriend the monster than to anger it.

So you comply, waiting an eternity as your senses strain to pick up on anything other than the murmuring hush of rain, the rumble of thunder, as the Radstorm continues to blow its way through.

Though just when you think he might’ve left, ready to chance moving, you hear the clink of a belt buckle clicking open. The scuff of boots across the linoleum before broad hands shove up under your shirt, scarred palms bare as they settle on your hips.

You tense before forcing yourself to relax.

“You ain’t as stupid as I thought,” he says. “Good girl.”

A test.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I can listen,” you mumble, keeping calm as his hands explore the plains of your stomach, pluck at the waistband of your panties. “Promise ‘m not gonna do anything else.”

Learned my lesson the first time. Got my skull cracked open for it.

“That’s what I like ta hear.”

Without warning, your panties are being ripped from you, scraps of fabric fluttering useless to the floor. You squawk in indignation but then a heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades.

He presses down, and you follow without complaint, finding yourself bent in half.

And then the fat head of his cock is right there, teasing at your entrance. He plays with your cunt, slipping the shaft between your wet folds. Dragging up the length of you to tap at your swollen clit.

Jerking in his hold, you whine and try to bear down with all your weight. “Please,” you squirm. “Please, c’mon…”

His grip remains firm, bruising as he exhales next to your ear, a pleased little grumble. “Thatta girl. Now tell me, who’s my pretty lil thief?”

Every hard ridge of his body bites into the softness of yours, your stiff nipples dragging against the rough material of your shirt. Zings of pleasure shoot through you; bursting in your bloodstream, fizzy like warm Nuka Cola.

“I-”

“Go on now, Sweetheart: say it.” Fingers dig into your hips so hard your bones ache. “Or I jus' might be tempted ta take a bite outta your pretty lil backside instead.”

He’s bluffing, you think, half delirious, … Right? He wouldn’t--

You swallow, throat clicking, and squirm against him.

Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

No, no it’s not.

“Y-Yours - I’m - I’m your little thief.”

The unexpected flare of satisfaction in his voice is almost your undoing. A hand pets down your flank, swatting the outside of your thigh playfully.

“Good girl.” He demands, “Say it again.”

Sharp hip bones kick forward against your ass as he lines himself up and starts to bully his way inside.

“I’m - YOURS!”

Your soft, gummy walls flutter, squeeze until giving in with a pop under the hard pressure of the fat head. His cock stretches you out, thick and girthy.

Ridges of scar tissue and patches of rough friction pockmark his shaft, massaging tender places as he fills you up, fucking you open.

He feeds you inch after inch… until he can’t.

“Wait!”

Accommodating his girth is a struggle, your cunt filled to the brim by the time he’s halfway inside. No amount of slick could make him fit, so he makes do with harsh little jerks of his hips. Forces himself deeper and deeper until he glides home nice and smooth, sheathing himself to the base with a sigh of satisfaction.

You clamp down hard with a hiccupy whine, walls furtively trying to push him out. “A-Ah!”

“Goddamn,” he huffs, hands kneading your ass, “You’re a tight fit.”

Tears prick your lash line, your hips shifting as you try to stop him from moving. Begging for a moment of reprieve. You’ve never taken something so big and thick, so textured before.

Coupled with the minimal foreplay, it feels like he’s punched his way through your body. Hollowed you out to make a home for himself.

Pussy aching, a low burning tightness creeps over your lower belly as tender flesh pulses uncomfortably around the unforgiving heft of his cock seated deep inside. You swear you feel him poking your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, heat settling into your cheeks. “J-Just wait a sec-ond! I can’t - oh shit.” 

“Aw, look at you.” Fingers reach around to brush over your cheeks, gather the tears that’ve slipped free. “Didn’t mean ta make you cry,” he lies.

The sound of him sucking his fingers clean reaches your ears. Your stomach swoops, and your clit throbs. Dazed as you wonder what his mouth would feel like on your pussy.

"Hah - too much, you're - fuck - you're too big."

He snickers. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” Body rippling in a shrug, his hands re-settling on your hips. “But that’s all right - I like it better when they cry.”

Before you can retort, he pulls his hips back.

Your toes curl in your boots, feet squeaking across the linoleum floor as your sweaty forehead grinds into the cool metal of the wall. The texture of his shaft burns as it slides through your swollen folds, dragging against sensitive spots you didn’t even know existed.

You can’t tell if it’s the best you’ve ever felt or the worst, but you nearly sob all the same, nerves alight with liquid fire. Want him as deep inside as he can go; a frenzy of desperation that needs him to stuff you so full you choke.

“See for all your whining, you’re takin’ me so well. What did I say about bein' honest?”

You sniffle, blurry eyes creaking open to stare out the window.

Your body throbs in time with your pulse, your pussy so stretched out you can’t clench down when he thrusts in deep. The fat mushroom head teases your cervix, a faint whisper, before he’s drawing back again.

“T-Too fast,” you stutter, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. Your thighs tremble, knees going soft. “Slow down, slow down.”

“Sh, you can take it. I know you can.”

With a grunt, he surges forward. Wasting no time in starting up a brutal pace that rattles your bones. He drives you hard into the side of the diner; tits crushed and face smashed, a disgusting mixture of tears and drool wetting your cheek.

“Just like that, Sweetheart.”

You do little more than hold on, all thoughts driven from your mind as he fucks you swollen and bruised. Cunt a sticky mess as your slick eases the way, clinging to your inner thighs and dripping down his heavy balls.

Every thrust punches little sounds from you, and he grunts. “Fuck!”

Your hands cling to the sides of his hips, focusing on the shift of muscle beneath heavy fabric. “I can’t,” you slur, eyes cloudy as you glance up into his, gazes meeting for the first time. “Please, I - ah!”

His thrusts turn punishing, even more so than they already were, hips meet your ass with enough force to leave bruises. “What did I say about sneakin' a peek?”

While the words sound threatening, his voice is heated and breathy. For all his talk, he doesn’t look away. In fact, his hips slow into languid rolls, grinding close. When your eyes slide from his, he reaches down to pinch your clit between his fingers.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “You keep those eyes on me.”

Pretty, you think, dazed.

Glinting in the slants of firelight like wet sand or a Nuka Cola bottle in the sun; bourbon warm as they peer at you from beneath a heavy brow bone.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl."

Eyes fluttering when he flexes his hips in reward, the tip massaging along your g-spot, your mouth drops open on a whine.

“O-Oh! Right there, I - fuck, please don’t stop. ‘m so close.” F-Feels s'good.

His bare hand reaches up to curl around your jaw, gnarled fingers pushing their way past the open circle of your swollen lips. They compress your tongue as they gather saliva, stroking along your tastebuds.

Gritty, rough; he tastes of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.

You sneak a kiss to his scarred knuckle when he pulls free.

“Shit, I’ll be damned. You’re just a nasty lil freak, ain't you?”

You moan in response, stretching up on your tip-toes and arching your hips to change the angle. Your palms rest beside your head, docile.

A crazed grin cracks the corners of his lips, his teeth bared like an animal. “I like that,” he husks. “Now be a peach…”

Then those soaked digits are finding their way between your thighs, ghosting over your skin to smear spit onto your abused clit. The tender bud throbs beneath his fingertips, swollen and begging for attention.

He hitches his hips forward to feel you jerk, pulsing beneath his touch as he resumes a fast, jolting pace that has you smacking into the wall.

“And cum for me.”

A deep rumble escapes his throat, the sloppy, wet sounds of him fucking you ringing loud in your ears. Your hips roll, unsure if you want to press forward into the swirl of his fingers or back into the rut of his cock.

Tears stream down your cheeks, your chest heaving with weak sobs.

“Please,” you whine, his shaft pinching your walls uncomfortably. You feel swollen, rubbed raw. “A-Almost there.”

A nip to the ear is all it takes.

“Hhaah, I’m--!”

The liquid heat that’s been pooling low in your belly - building and building - finally bursts in a gush of slick that soaks his hand. Darkens the crotch of his pants as it drips down your thighs to splash against the tile.

You sob, a full body tremor zipping through you like bottled lightening.

In the aftermath, your cunt twitches in time with your heartbeat. Hands numb and head full of cotton as cramps bloom between your hips. Sharp little stabs shoot up behind your navel.

“Shit, I’ve got myself a gusher,” he laughs, a nasty little smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at the mess you made. Now if you ask real sweet-like, maybe I’ll let you clean it up with your tongue.”

You sag, too boneless to be ashamed as electric aftershocks tingle along your nerves. All the while, his pace never falters, quickly fucking you into overstimulation.

Your clit twitches pathetically when the fat head of his cock drags along your g-spot. "No more," you mumble weakly, letting him maneuver your body how he likes. "Please."

“Heh, let’s see if you can do that again.”

You whimper, “Oh, oh, please n-no. I - I can’t. You’ll break me.”

“That’s real cute,” his lips, harsh and rasping, drag over the shell of your ear, “but I wasn’t askin’.”

The grip on your hips tightens to the point of pain, digging in and marking you up.

“Now, why don’ we have some real fun, Darlin'?”

[menagerofmischief]

Heart song (OP81)

summary: in the middle of dating rumors, current music industry hit, y/n l/n releases a love song which leaves no space to deny her relationship. -> based on this request

fc: olivia rodrigo

cw: bad language,

a/n: the only bands I listen to are a bunch of old men or a bunch of dead man, safe to say I don't know much about bands so I made her a solo artist.

liked by: oscar piastri, sabrinacarpenter, and 1,556,895 more

yourusername: something coming soon, or whatever

comments:

ynsleftshoe: oscar in the likes before me again

hooklinesinker: girl same! and I got notifications on cococroissant: the struggle of making it here before pee ass tree vrom vrom is real

ynupdates: mother is cooking and eating for real

sabrinacarpenter: so excited for it!

justonechange: the bond between two girls scorned by a man is unbreakable breakmyback: sabrina is so me right now

likealovesong: my hears are about to be blessed again! thank you god for answering my prayers

liked by landonorris and 1,345 more

f1wagupdates: seems like a new wag may be entering the paddock, showcasing papaya!

mclaren driver, oscar piastri, has been spotted being touchy and affectionate with pop star, y/n l/n. this is not the first time the two have been spotted together.

comments:

vroomyroom: what the hell is lando doing in the likes of a wag updates page

norrizzz: he's so messy fr

user454: seriously what's wrong with you people, leave them alone!

justanichident: oscar's lucky he's good that polite cat smile because those hands do be wondering

breakmyback: I too am no better than a man (I'd be touching y/n's ass all the time if I could)

user334: ow! they're so cute together!

user331: power couple vibes

user564: ew, he can do so much better

user887: SHE can do much better

liked by hattiepiastri, nicolepiastri, yourusername and 1.345.221 more

oscarpiastri: great vacation, lots of sun

comments:

macmylarens: if bwoah was an instagram caption it would be tht

rockabye: who does bro think he's fooling with that soft launch

dropstoproll: like sir, we all know that's y/n l/n, now give us some good content

landonorris: you really poured your heart out with that caption mate

ynupdates: I spy with my little eye, y/n in the likes

justonechange: so ... he's not that bad

user423: I get y/n, he's hot

liked by sabrinacarpenter, oscarpiastri, landonorris and 1.978.645 more

yourusername: Summer When Everybody Ever Thought, Love In Knowledge Existed, Yellow Orchids Unidentified

see you on august 19th ;)

comments:

ynupdates: NEW ALBUM ALERT!!!

breakmyback: I don't care if a man driving in circles for living inspired it, new music is coming!

sabrinacarpenter: that caption triggered my dyslexia

justonechange: no because same user332: I thought I was the only one!

dotsaredotting: hear me out, the aesthethic of this album is orange (so far), and there's a car, mclaren F1 team is orange ("papaya" or wtv), oscar piastri drives for mclaren, oscar is soft launching, they wore spotted together = they're dating

crazyonce: this is so delulu it may be trululu

ynupdates: in case you thought you were crazy for not getting the caption, every words starts with a capital latters and all the letters together spell SWEET LIKE YOU which is either a song on the album or the name of the album

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, hattiepiastri, and 2.021.331 more

yourusername: the way sun shines over beaches, the first taste of summer peaches, yellowed pages of a favorite book it may all be sweet but not sweet like you.

my new album, sweet like you, is now available to stream. this is such a special album for me which is why it's dedicated to such a special person. I love you, Osc, keep on being sweet.

comments have been turned off for this post

liked by yourusername, sabrinacarpenter, landonorris and 1.987.554 more

oscarpiastri: every day I'm grateful I get to have you. you're the sun of my morning, the stars of my evening, the breath of my lungs and the song of my heart. I love you, y/n.

comments:

landonorris: wow, you actually poured your heart out with this one

sabrinacarpenter: she was mine first car boy, remember that

hattiepiastri: I hope you know how much cooler than you your girlfriend is

yourusername: love you too, my sweet boy <3

comments have been limited on this post

[theealbatross]

fight the alchemy (s.s)

Plot | After a tumultuous year, Sebastian’s life was finally okay – passable, up-to-scratch, satisfactory. And he had just almost reached peace – when his brilliant, painfully observant, carelessly crude genius of a friend, Garreth Weasley, started pointing out unnecessary facts that could rip all that harmony to shreds.

or, Garreth asks why Sebastian isn’t dating you. Sebastian spirals.

Tags | fluff, sebastian is a thought daughter, low self esteem, seb is a playboy BUT NOT REALLY, horny thots but we keep it pg, insecurity so deep you try to fight cupid, cupid fights back

An Ashwinder’s wand to his neck and Sebastian could honestly and truly say that he was … alright.

Life wasn’t perfect, by any means. His uncle was murdered dead, an estranged twin sister in Paris who refuses to answer his letters, a mistrustful Ominis that breathes on his neck, and a tattered companionship that was barely hanging on by a thread.

But he was okay.

Thankfully, Solomon was still dead, Anne was still alive, and still cranky Ominis is now open to reconciliation. Plus, if all else had fallen, he at least managed to save your cherished friendship thanks to your forgiving nature.

Thus, as thanks to the people who had not yet given up on him, he had sworn to live the rest of his academic life as a meek, unassuming, law-abiding student of Hogwarts.

And he did such a good job at it.

The professors are now impressed at his steadily increasing grades (so much so that the Ravenclaws are now finally seeing him as a threat again) and he even managed to make Imelda’s team as her beater to keep him occupied.

The latter, however, had a grating consequence – he had become popular.

It was thrilling, at first, he went on dates to make up for the years he had lost, kissed the pretty girls because it felt like he should (as one of the few bastards lucky enough to live every raging teenager’s dream), and accepted the slaps on the face politely when they inevitably broke up.

But now he’s just gotten tired and bored of it all.

Ominis says it’s a genius’ folly, to always find a fault in something and then drop it when it doesn’t quite meet his standard of perfect. Leander says he’s just a bastard.

He cups his face with his hand, wincing. Her fucking ring caught on his skin and he can’t be arsed to suffer through the bitterness of a Wiggenweld Potion for a mere scratch.

Garreth doesn’t bother to swallow his bread before saying, “Really, mate? I thought you liked this one?”

“Liked her rack, more likely,” Andrew quipped from his seat on the stone steps of the boathouse.

Sebastian threw his scarf on his face, satisfied at his squawk.

“No talking about my ex-girlfriends,” he warned. It was one of his few rules when it came to his male friends. He may be a bastard but as someone with a sister and a couple of good female friendships, he makes it a point to never become one of those losers who talk badly about women they have a history with. Just so he can have a moral high ground when he beats up anyone who might do it to his friends.

“All right, all right,” Andrew raised his hands in playful surrender, throwing Sebastian’s scarf back to him. “But as your friend, I think it’s about time you stop swapping out girls every time you get bored of them.”

“I don’t swap them out,” he rolls his eyes. “Breakups are normal.”

“Breakups are normal,” Garreth points out. “Six breakups in 2 years is an issue.”

“Maybe I’m just meant for the bachelor life,” he mumbles, ignoring the pointed accusation from Garreth. Fucking perceptive prick. “Not everyone gets to meet their soulmate in Hogwarts, asshole.”

Garreth grins, “Natty’s great, isn’t she?”

Sebastian and Andrew both throw their scarves at him, the three of them bursting out in laughter and boos.

“To the Three Broomsticks, then?” Andrew stood up, patting his pants.

As 7th years it was nearly impossible to take a breather with the looming threat of exams that will dictate the rest of your life and the inescapable trap of adulthood that awaits them in a couple of months. So, his friends had made it a point to at least go out once every week whenever they could, really take advantage of their last year as students where they had no other responsibility but to survive the week.

In a year’s time, seeing each other as often as they do will be nothing short of a miracle.

“Leander and Everett are already there, saved up a table since it’s a Friday, it’s gonna be packed full,” Andrew explains.

Sebastian looks around, eyes scanning the castle in the setting sun. “You go on ahead I’m waiting for –”

“Sebastian!”

A flash of movement appeared rushing down the stairs towards the boathouse, your face beaming as you waved to the three of them. When you were a foot away from him you jumped into his arms, shrieking energetically when he grabbed your waist and lifted you above his head.

“Sorry, I’m late,” you pant, smiling at your friends once you’re back on the ground. “Professor Hecate asked me to stay back for a minute, something about revisions on my research.”

“I can’t believe you got permission to research in The Restricted Section after the crazy nonsense you pulled in 5th year,” Garreth shook his head. Sebastian wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side, beaming in pride. Nobody knows but the two of you that the very thing you were researching were the technicalities of how you broke Anne’s curse so it could be taught to the nurses in St. Mungos and hopefully spread to the rest of wizardkind.

“It’s exactly because I had the nerve to break the rules that I was given the honorable opportunity,” you dramatically curtsied. “And they said Gryffindors were the brave ones.”

That made Sebastian laugh. Garreth blinks, eyes squinting at him for a second but he doesn’t look offended, more … focused on Sebastian.

“Alright, no more of that House Rivalry. Quidditch Season is over,” Andrew quips.

“Wiped your asses there too, Larson,” he quipped, Andrew’s jaw drops, looking at Garreth for help and receiving none. He was still staring at Sebastian, eyes shifting between him and you.

Andrew groans. “Slytherins are assholes.”

Slytherins are, apparently, also light-weights.

Well, at least one of them is.

He adjusts his hold on your body as the other hand wraps his coat around your body properly. After your last ‘improved’ butterbeer you had slumped into his lap, rudely snoozing off on the crook of his neck and refusing to wake up even when it was time for your group to leave – not that he would’ve allowed that to happen, with your demanding research it was a miracle to get you to sleep let alone let loose.

The rest of the group had gone in first to scope the scenery and bribe the patrolling Head students with leftover chips while he and Garreth were stuck carrying you and an unconscious Amit that they had managed to catch last-minute in Hogsmeade. Poor bastard.

“I was thinking –”

“Please don’t,” he groans.

“Why have you two never dated?”

Sebastian stops his fussing, barely able to use his head to ensure he keeps walking, and continue to Act Normal, now using both of his hands to hold you tighter.

“You’re drunk,” he deflects. The puffs of your breath warm his entire body.

“Because! When I think about it …”

Please, for the love of the great Merlin stop thinking.

“You’ve been inseparable from the start! I can’t believe it’s escaped my notice you’ve never dated. You say your past relationships got boring and got annoying but you’ve never been bored and annoyed with her and you’ve been friends for years!”

Bored with you? He’s had more near-fatal heart attacks because of you than breakups. Sebastian barely had the time to be bored. And sometimes you do get at each other’s throats but it was always fixed after a proper conversation. If his killing his uncle couldn’t turn you away then he doubts anything you do could ever turn him away.

“Plus, with all the respect and love to my beautiful darling Natty, she’s a fucking catch, mate!”

If Garreth wasn’t carrying a sinless half-dead Amit, Sebastian would’ve punched him in his mouth just to stop him from talking.

“I’m just saying,” Garreth walks ahead of him, clearly aware of the fuse he had just lit. Sebastian was tempted to kick the back of his knees just for the satisfaction of seeing him fall.  “Maybe you can join the club and find your soulmate in Hogwarts.”

Garreth winks.

“We’re still accepting members.”

He’s decided.

He needs to kill Garreth.

He has not been able to sleep properly for the past week and it’s all because of that ginger prick and his needless remarks.

“Why have you two never dated?”

Sebastian’s pencil cracks in his hand.

“Is he alright?” he hears an underclassman whisper on the other table. He glances at them and they flinch. Quickly, he softens his expression ("You really need to stop scowling at people, Sebastian."), unaware he had glared at them and sent a wary smile in apology. It would just be unfair to aim his ire at innocent people when he could just use it to rip out every strand of Weasley’s hair.

“He’s been staring at that page for an hour. Maybe we should call –”

He stands up, escaping.

Sebastian never realized just how much he spent his time with you until people were looking at him funny when he was walking or sitting alone in public places. At first, he thought there had been crumbs on his face or one of his asshole friends stuck a note on his back like a kid. Plus, he hadn’t been feeling his best since that night but he thought it had been the lack of sleep.

It wasn’t until he had met Imelda on the grounds that he found his answer:

“Where’s the rest of you?”

He blinked at his captain, “I’m sorry?”

She shook her head. “Man, it feels weird seeing you alone. Did you guys have a fight? You’re usually shadowing her like a puppy after class.”

Then everything clicks, the strange looks, the feeling of missing something (like a forgotten important homework after he had reached the top of the Astronomy Tower) – it’s been a side effect of avoiding you.

Okay, it’s not that he’s avoiding you per se. He just needs space. He needs to think and he finds that can’t do that once he feels your eyes on him. With his luck, you’re going to see right through him and that would just be unideal if not a fucking catastrophe.

That’s why he’s taken it upon himself to stay off your way until he puts his thoughts in a row and finally screws his head on straight again. Or he could just kill Garreth, get sent straight to Azakaban, and avoid confronting these complicated thoughts altogether.

“I can’t believe it’s escaped my notice you’ve never dated!”

He sits on a bench, hands on his head as he let out a prolonged groan, “The fucking bastard.”

Why did he have to point it out? Why did Garreth have to bring what he, upon reflection, had buried on the back of his head, just waiting for that one little flick of acknowledgment before it blew his brains out.

Because Sebastian is a lot of things but he’s not a fucking moron.

It’s not that the thought of being together is unpleasant. If he lets himself consider it his chest feels like it would escape his ribcage both in excitement and utter terror.

But Garreth was right: he’d never thought about it before – hadn’t thought the idea was conceivable in this reality.

He has a feeling it was his way of preserving whatever pure relationship he had left. He’s not exactly rich with true companionship and he’s not idiotic enough to risk it all over a bloody crush. 

And not just any crush – his best friend, the person who saved his life and then helped him rebuild it when he was finished smashing it to pieces. The one who never turned her back even when his blood had given up. The girl who has a line of eligible bachelors following her on their knees for a single chance, ones who could offer her more than he ever could – ones who could offer her the world.

So, yeah – forgive him, but he’s never really allowed himself to entertain the idea of them dating. Sebastian has tested his luck enough.

Unless the roles switch and he gets to save the wizarding world this time then maybe … yeah, maybe -- maybe in another fucking life.

The thought makes him stand up, walking straight out of the campus to hopefully drown the sorrows of the depressing state of his love life with the best fire whiskey Hogshead could offer. How does he even move on from this? How does he make peace with the fact that he has sealed his fate of living the rest of his life alone? 

It’s impossible, he’s decided. Even if he graduates at the top of the classes he is taking and gets accepted into the Auror Programme that Sharp had recommended him for, their social standing is still heavens apart. He’s an orphan, with a husk of an extended family and no money to his name.

It wouldn’t matter to you, never really cared for pure bloodlines or lineages and he knows anyone who brings that up when they’re courting you will receive the most disgusted look on your face. 

But he cares – you are the most special person in his life. He wants the best for you. And the best is not something he can provide.

His depressing thoughts halt as his steps falter, a familiar scent tickling his nose. A familiar scent that leads straight into the Forbidden Forest. When he looks up to the sky, he realizes the sun has almost finished setting.

She can’t be that reckless, right?

He was barely surprised when he chanted the incantation that triggered the charm they had both put in their necklaces, the sparkling thread leads straight into the forest. And if he knows you half as well as he thinks he does then he knows exactly where it’s gonna lead to.

There goes his late-night plan.

It isn’t exactly his first jaunt in the forbidden space but it still gives him the creeps especially so close to the night. Why you’re so fond of the place is something he’ll never understand.

But that’s just the way you were, just another part of your quirks that makes you so endearing.

How you throw your head back when you laugh, that you get so cranky when you’re studying that no one dares to approach you but him, even the way you messily eat your favorite chocolate pastry of the week yet never fail to share a piece with him.

With this new revelation, he bitterly accepts the reason for his philandering ways. That he simply is another prick who is coping with not being able to attain the love of his life at the expense of those poor girls.

His self-condemnation however was cut short when he heard the waterfall, not being able to help the smirk on his face when he turned the corner and found you just as he had expected: in the middle of the clear, dark, water, floating carelessly on your back.

Gods, you are a beauty. He’s always thought so, the entire male population in Hogwarts thought so too. If they somehow get to break through your walls and manage to get to know you, he might just have to beat them away with an actual stick.

“Sebastian,” you smile, his heart stops. “I knew you’d find me.”

You swim to him gracefully, barely disturbing the water with only your eyes above the water but there was no hiding the grin in your face. Like a pitiful sailor seduced by a siren, his feet dragged him to the edge, a short ledge above from where you were looking up at him.

“You left your scent on purpose,” he states, kneeling to get a closer look at you. What a beauty – mischievous, cunning, irresistible. He’s never loved anyone more. “Naughty, naughty, darling.”

She pulls herself up the ledge, their faces inches away from each other. He nails his eyes to yours so they wouldn’t be tempted to look down at your soaking figure cloaked only by a thin chemise “I had to get you somehow, knew you couldn’t resist a damsel in distress.”

“Funny,” he softly glares, chuckling when she preens, clearly satisfied that her plan worked perfectly. “With all the water in the Black Lake, you had to pick the Forbidden Forest to swim in.”

You dip yourself back down in the water, swimming away but still facing him. “Come, Sebastian. I’ve been bored all week since you’ve been avoiding me.”

Guilt runs through his spine at the sudden coldness in your offhanded comment. Clearly, his absence hasn’t escaped your notice as he had hoped.

Like a scolded pup, he follows your command to a T. Eyes never leaving your floating figure as he removed his coat, folding it neatly along with the rest of his clothes until he was left in his underclothes.

He winces at the touch of the freezing water. A heating charm would do wonders but the way your unsympathetic eyes never left his figure gave him a feeling that this was a punishment he was meant to endure.

He steels himself, diving into the water and only resurfacing when he is right in front of you. “You called?”

“You’re so fucking full of yourself,” you splash the cold water at him, shrieking when he reaches out for your arms and barely managing to slip away.

He dives again, grinning at your confused flounder, until you realize your mistake, looking down just as he catches your waist, your surprised shriek, and his unrestrained laughter breaks through the quiet of the forest.

“You done running now, pet?” he locks his hands on your back, pushing you close until he is carrying both your weight in the water, chin resting on your chest as your hands run through his soaking hair.

Your darkened hair frames your face, like a sheer curtain it drops, teasing his cheeks, and hiding your conversation from the rest of the forest – in the dimness, your eyes have never been more radiant, even if it was clearly pissed at him.

Skinship wasn’t foreign between the two of you. When you’ve saved each other’s lives from certain death more times than you care to count, cuddling is the least of your worries.

But there is something about the forest's silence, the sparse moonlight that peaks through the dense trees, the sound of the droplets falling from your hair to the water, and the distant echoes of the animals that make everything intimate. -- more intimate than usual.

“Are you?” you throw his question back at him mercilessly, your hands on the back of his neck, locking his face to look up at you – finally at you. The weeklong separation had been torture and now that the distance had cut his regular contact with his favorite witch, he finally realized how fast his heart was beating when he was around her.

He smiles.

He was satisfied, he swore he was.

Sebastian’s life was finally okay – passable, up-to-scratch, satisfactory. He shouldn’t strive for more, couldn’t allow himself that luxury – the luxury of love, the luxury of you.

But as he stares at your eyes, as he feels the ice in your skin, as he imagines a future where it wasn't him that gets to bite the plump of your lips – that dirty, greedy part of him crawls out of the hole he had shoved it in.

He feels it win.

“Are you done running now?” you whisper, a droplet falls from the tip of your nose to the space just below his eyes, his breath hitches, like your magnetic presence had sucked out all the air of the forest.

“I wasn’t running,” she raises a brow, and Sebastian presses his lips to your ears. “I was thinking.”

“And?”

Leander was right: he really is a bastard.

But he’s a bastard who will no longer wait for another life to love you. He's a bastard who will get what he wants.

“I think,” he whispers, at peace. “I think I’m gonna marry you someday.”

[em-ontv]

Get a room.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: After a particularly bad hunt, you were patching Dean up in the motel room, but he said he needed to be healed up the right way.

Content: fluff(?), kisses, Sam kind of being the third-wheel, no use of y/n, mentions of injury

English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: 698

You and Dean had just stumbled back to the bunker after a long, exhausting hunt. It was one of those hunts where everything that could go wrong, did. Dean had taken a hit from some nasty vamp, even after you told him to be careful, but Dean? Nah, that word wasn't in his vocabulary. And while he made no big deal of the gash, you knew it was serious enough to need a little patching up.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirt off, grimacing slightly as you cleaned up the deep cut on his shoulder.

"Ow—! Careful," Dean grimaced, shooting you a mocking glare. "You trying to finish me off, sweetheart?"

"Quit being a baby," you shook your head. "You're lucky this didn't go deeper."

“I’m always lucky,” Dean responded, a smirk spreading across his face despite his slight wince when you dabbed the cloth on his wound again.

"Uh-huh. I should just leave you to bleed out next time, it would save me a whole lot of trouble." you muttered, beginning to bandage him up, nodding in approval of your work once you secured it.

Dean shifted, sighed, then flashed you a lopsided grin. "I think you missed a step, sweetheart."

"What step?" you raised an eyebrow, confused.

“For me to fully heal… there’s only one thing that’ll work.”

“What?" you almost rolled your eyes. "Lemme guess, whiskey and pie?”

He grinned wider. “Nope. Kisses. Specifically, from you. On my face. All over. Only way this wound’s gonna close up right.”

You snorted. “Right. Because that's definitely how medical science works.”

Dean winced dramatically. “You don’t believe me? It’s a foolproof healing method. I swear it.”

"C'mon, don't leave me hanging here—this is life or death." He added for good measure, tapping a finger to his cheek.

Despite yourself, you laughed. “You are so full of it, Winchester.”

“One kiss. Or like… fifty. But who's counting?” He shrugged.

You sighed, fully aware you were playing into his game but too tired to fight it. You leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his cheek, where his finger tapped relentlessly until you gave in.

“There you go,” Dean said, clearly pleased. “But you missed a spot—” He pointed to another area, so you kissed it too. “And there—” Another kiss. “And the forehead—” You kissed his forehead. “And—”

“Okay, Dean, that’s enough."

"Not enough. I can still feel the pain." He let out an over-the-top groan.

You sighed in exasperation, considering to either just punch him across the face or keep giving into him—you chose the latter.

Just as you were placing more kisses onto his face—the grin on his lips made him look like a love-drunk idiot—the door swung open.

Sam walked in with some takeout bags, he froze in the doorway, eyes widening as he took in the scene: you, practically sitting on Dean’s lap, showering his face with kisses, while Dean looked way too proud of himself.

“What did I just walk into?” Sam groaned, immediately making a beeline to the table to avoid getting another glance at the two of you.

"Hey, it's a part of the healing process, Sammy." Dean smirked, looking over to his brother.

Sam blinked, then made a face like he just swallowed something sour. “Gross. Seriously, guys, get a room.”

“We’re technically in a room, you know.” you said, getting off of Dean who seemed too reluctant to let you go.

"A room that you walked into." Dean added, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Sam set the food down, still shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, well, next time, maybe give me a warning first so I know not to come in while you guys are having a whole smooch-fest."

"You're just jealous."

"You two are impossible."

"Buzzkill."

Sam just groaned in annoyance again, starting to unpack the food.

You couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, feeling a bit guilty—though not that guilty. You glanced at Dean, who tugged on your hand with a happy expression.

"Next time, we're giving you painkillers." you said, lifting your hand up and running your finger through his hair.

"Not a chance." Dean smiled.

[pixie-felix]

a/n: I was thinking about how the idol lifestyle must be really challenging and stressful at times and then this happened.

word count: 1.7k genre: smut. content warning: it’s just smut. lots of smut.

T O U G H  D A Y

Chan. Sometimes, after a tough day, all Chan wants to do is curl up in your lap and be taken care of. 

And by taken care of, I mean he needs your tits in his mouth. He needs you to let him bury his face in your breasts, to hide from the world in your chest, and to suck on your nipples until the serotonin kicks in. (And then maybe a bit longer, man’s breeding kink comes with a side of a mild lactophilia.)

It doesn’t happen frequently, he likes to save it for special/stressful occasions. Like when he hasn’t slept for two days. Or Tuesdays.

On really special occasions, he might ask you for a hand job too, looking up at you with his best puppy eyes as he nuzzles your chest, guiding your hand to his stiff dick. 

There’s nothing quite like the view of Chan submitting like this, trusting you to be in control as he suckles. Guiding your hand up and down his dick, his fist tight over yours as he moans against your breast, that little crease between his eyebrows letting you know when he gets close. Then when his thighs start to shake, take advantage of his praise kink. 

(Call him a good boy and watch him shoot all over his belly.)

Lino. Sometimes, after a tough day,  all Lino needs is to rest his face on your lap and have you stroke his hair until he falls asleep (yes, just like a cat).

Other times, he needs you, on his dick, moaning his name like it’s the only word you know. You know when it’s the latter from the way he slams the door when he gets home, kicking his shoes off and striding over to you.

If he’s feeling patient, he’ll princess-carry you to the bedroom and ravage you there. If he’s not, (and he’s usually not), he’ll just flip you around and bend you over the nearest hard surface. The couch. The kitchen table. The floor.

He’ll take you rough, making you squeak as his nails leave little crescent shaped bruises in your hips as he pumps you back and forth. He won’t last long, just needing to get his rocks off just once before he’s calm enough to take care of you again. 

(And take care of you he will, feeling bad for losing his cool like that.)

Changbin. Sometimes, after a tough day, Changbin needs to go to his special place. Lucky for you, that special place is between your thighs. 

Specifically, he needs you to sit on his face. He needs to forget the world for a bit, and what better way to do that than being pinned between your thighs, with your pussy on his mouth and your full body weight on his face? (No squatting allowed. He’s a big boy, he can cope.) 

Really, it’s like weight lifting, but he gets to eat at the same time. Two of his favourite things. Add you (and your delicious cunt) into the mix, and it’s the perfect antidote to a stressful afternoon.   

He’s greedy with it too, relentlessly tonguing at you until you’re coming apart for him, tangling your fingers in his hair as he keeps eating you out like a starved man. 

Once he’s figured out how to make you squirt, oh my lord. It’s almost like he’s trying to drown himself in your slick as he licks another orgasm out of you, his hands kneading the softness of your thighs reassuringly as you flood his face again.

(He’ll only stop if you beg him to, once he’s licked you sore and swollen. And even then, the way he groans against your cunt in protest will send the edge again.)

Hyunjin. Sometimes, after a tough day, all Hyunjin can think about is getting home and taking a long, long shower. With you of course, naked and soapy and letting him fuck you against the wall tile.

It might start innocently enough, a cute little smile and the whisper of “baby, join me?” as he walks into the bathroom, leaving the door open. 

If you join him immediately, he’ll kiss you softly while the both of you wait for the water to heat up. Gently undressing you and whispering sweet things against your skin.

If you don’t, he’ll be waiting for you with a mean smirk and a rock hard erection, sitting on the bath and jerking himself to peak stiffness.

Hard or soft, gentle or mean, it always ends the same way: hot water raining down on you as he presses you up against the cold tile, sucking hickeys into your neck as he pounds you from the back.

Either way, he’s sweet as pie afterwards, snuggling up with you on the sofa and letting you choose what to watch. Even if it’s your favourite film that he’s seen a thousand times. Really, he’s so loving and attentive after a shower session, he’ll do anything you ask- the merest suggestion and it’s done.

(This is how Kiwi Hyunjin happened. I will not be elaborating.)

Han. Sometimes, after a tough day and much like Changbin, all Han wants is to indulge in his munch tendencies. 

It’s basically stress eating, except instead of calories he has your legs around his head, and instead of gaining weight he just gets hard.

He doesn’t want you to sit on his face though- unless you really want to. No, he wants to pick you up and carry you to the bedroom, undressing you tenderly as he worships every inch of your skin. He wants to lay you back against the pillows and kiss you, making out slowly, grinding his erection into your hip until you’re begging for more- his fingers, his dick, his anything.

Of course, he’ll give you everything. But first, he needs to give you his mouth. He needs to taste you on his tongue.

He’ll try restrain himself, try and tease you until you’re all teary eyed and begging… But the reality is, as soon as you spread your legs for him he’s the one begging. 

Begging you to let him taste you. Begging you with his big boba eyes as he pants between your thighs, begging for you to pull his hair. Begging you to cum on his tongue again, even when he’s been licking you out for an hour already and he’s starting to get a crick in his neck.

(A little muscle strain is nothing compared to the taste of your pussy.)

Felix. Sometimes, after a tough day, all Felix wants is to hold you. Felix is a cuddle bug, everybody knows. He’ll cuddle anyone, everyone, for any reason. Sometimes for no reason at all.

What he saves specially for you though, is his absolute favourite kind of cuddles. 

The special ones with you, cuddling you naked, feeling safe and warm and loved with his cock buried deep inside you.

Felix. Loves. Cockwarming. It’s a whole new level of intimacy, not a stitch between you as he holds you tight, his arms around your waist and your walls around his dick. 

He can stay like this for hours, nuzzling into your neck or even taking a nap, just relishing the closeness of being inside you. And he will stay like that for hours, until you’re at your limit, wriggling and grinding, begging him to just move and give you what you need.

(He will, eventually. After teasing you with his deep voice, holding your hips still so you can’t move. He can’t help his mischievous nature, after all.)

Seungmin. Sometimes, after a tough day, Seungmin needs some quiet time. He just needs to be alone.

Well, alone with you. 

It’s usually almost impossible to be quiet in the bedroom with Seungmin, when his savage tongue and teasing personality are busy pushing you right to the edge of orgasm again and again, edging you relentlessly.

But on days like these, when he comes home with his eyes dark and eyebrows furrowed, you know that edging you is not on his mind. You also know that it’s only a matter of time before he has you pinned down on the bed, your face buried in the pillows to muffle your moans as he fingerblasts you into oblivion. 

Or at least until you’re relaxed and stretched out enough that he can slide straight in when he lifts your hips, angling you just right to hit your sweet spot every time, tugging you up onto your hands and knees as he rails you.

(The puppy loves doggystyle, what else can I say?)

I.N. Sometimes, after a tough day… well, Jeongin is a traditional sort of guy. 

All he wants is your mouth on his dick. 

But he’s too shy to ask for a blow job, so he’ll just sit next to you on the couch, shuffling around slightly. Undecided if he wants you to notice the tell tale bulge in his pants, or not.

Of course you notice. How could you not? He thinks he’s being subtle, shifting around, keeping quiet… 

Newsflash: he’s not. He hasn’t been still for a minute since he sat down, constantly adjusting himself without actually touching himself, flitting between trying to get the pressure off his dick and needing a little more friction. 

It’s up to you how long you let him suffer before you take pity on him. It’s also up to you how you go about it. 

Do you ask him directly, and watch him get all blushy and flustered? Do you subtly tease him, stretching out on the couch with your legs draped over his lap, occasionally rubbing against his boner as you ever so innocently adjust how you’re sitting… until he breaks, humping up into your thighs, all needy and desperate? 

Or do you just kneel between his legs with a soft smile, kissing down his belly as you undo his pants. Looking him in the eyes as you kiss his tip, guiding his hands to your hair as he stutters, wide eyed and gasping, as you lick him like a lollipop.

Chan's might've been inspired by this twt link

Taglist: @sthaay @bluesungology @chrizzztopherbang @avnche @kemkem33 @mikaelless @lvrgrl-xo @eevenus @furioussheepluminary @sheerfreesia007 @aasthamoon, @amazinglystay @delulustardust @galaxy4489 @lil-bear08 @abby-loves-aphrodite @minhooofr Taglist is open.

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[defmaybe]

That's So True

12 Days of Christmas: Day 10, January 3rd, 2025

aespa’s Uchinaga Aeri/Giselle & Yoo Jimin/Karina x Male Reader

5.3k words

Christmas Masterlist

The chatterings of the party goers fill the house, with a faint hint of Gracie Abrams’ That’s So True hanging in the air. The place reeks of cheap perfume (you added the cheap part by yourself, you really don’t know which is expensive and which is not), beer, and rum.

You’re somewhere in the house, playing a game with your friends, and your friends of friends. The bottle spins, as the players are watching it expectantly, anticipating the next candidate for truth or dare. It slows down, and the sounds of people’s breath hitching can be heard as the tip of the bottle goes near them.

(The stake here isn’t anything more than shame, really. Still, it’s a pretty huge predicament for college students.)

Finally, it stops, claiming Yoo Jimin as its victim. You watch her whine in slight disappointment, but there’s a glint, there’s a glint in her eyes that shows something more—excitement.

“Truth,” Jimin says.

You’ve always considered yourself lucky to be within Jimin’s radius, even if it’s just being a friend of a friend. There’s the obvious—her gorgeous, angelic features. You swear you can just look at her face all day without doing anything else, and that would’ve been enough for you.

Then, there’s her personality. It’s another thing you’ve always admired. She’s a leader, a goddamn 4.00 achiever, the perfect epitome of a student. She’s a debate team president, and now she’s sitting in the same circle as you, playing truth or dare, ready to be asked the most embarrassing questions.

“So,” Beomgyu begins, tapping his knees in a rhythm. He’s the faculty’s drummer, after all. “Alright, I couldn’t think of the question. My bad, guys”

The others watch Beomgyu with a slightly annoyed expression (they still love him, of course).

“Don’t start if you don’t know how to continue, man,” Jimin scoffs, turning to others for a spark to her question. “So, anyone?”

Nothing seems to run through your mind at the moment. You’re not an idea kind of person, to say. Your mind is blank.

“What is the worst–” Taehyun utters, but he seems lost on where to go next. The words hang in the air without closure “–fuck.”

“Is that fuck an exclamation, or it’s a part of the question, huh?” Jimin playfully teases him. “I mean, I can answer that if it’s the latter~”

God, she’s so charismatic.

Taehyun chuckles. “I’ll go with the second choice, then,” he says.

Jimin lets out a mischievous smirk. “Well, this is about two years ago, more or less,” she starts her story, as everyone in the circle gathers around to listen intently.

“I was fucking a guy, riding him like crazy. He was whimpering and moaning and all that stuff, you know? I thought he was perfect, being a submissive little slut like that,” Jimin says, an expression of wrath forming on her face. Fuck, she looks so hot when she’s mad. “I’m still mad at him, goddamn it.”

You only nod along with the story like the others, listening to her carefully.

“Everything was going so damn well. God, I even remember how he moaned like a bitch, ‘Nghhh~ Jimin, your pussy feels so good. Jimin, I’m your little man-whore, nghhh~’, like that,” Jimin mocks the poor man’s words while also mimicking the riding movement. You can see her breasts moving along with her motion.

This is fucking arousing. You’re starting to feel the tent inside your pants forming. Imagine being Jimin’s little man-whore like that, watching her tits jiggling while she’s on your cock. A few more shots and you could’ve been drooling all over the floor, being a laughingstock for all of your friends like that.

“That–That’s a very vivid imagery, Jimin,” Minjeong adds. The others are nodding along with her.

Jimin shrugs. “Guess I can be a bit–shameless, you know?” she says with a giggle, making the crowd smile along with her.

“Alright, back to the story. I was riding him, and he was moaning,” Jimin continues. “Everything was going fine. Then he fucking slapped my tits.”

You can see Minjeong clenching her lips, hard. She’s trying not to burst out in a huge laughter, so is Taehyun, so is Beomgyu, so are a lot of other guys in the circle.

Jimin shoots the crowd a glare, whining in frustration, “Come on, guys! He fucking slapped my tits!” Jimin then slaps her chest softly, and that breaks the group.

The crowd erupts in laughter, unable to comprehend the sheer absurdity of the situation. Kai is already on the floor, dying from the hilarity. You can’t help but chuckle along with the guys.

“Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you!” Jimin shouts, but the laughing crowd doesn’t seem to care, still laughing. You watch as Jimin leans back, watching the scene unfold around her, annoyed.

“Hmph!”

“Alright–Alright,” Yizhuo says, still laughing. She then reaches out to her friend for the bottle. Yizhuo wiggles it in her hand slightly, before she spins the bottle again, bringing the crowd’s attention to the object. The bottle rotates. Everyone, mostly still smiling, are watching it with anticipation, ready to see who will be the next victim of the game. Gracie Abrams’ That’s So True seems to repeat itself. The DJ probably forgot to turn the repeat function off. The guitar rings around the house. The bottle continues to spin, continuously slowing down second by second.

And it stops.

At you.

Fuck.

“Since Jimin picked truth–”

“Yeah, I know,” you quickly cut Yizhuo off. “Dare me something.”

You glance around the group. The men are thinking. The women are thinking. They’re probably trying to imagine the most embarrassing thing they can do to you.

“Hmm,” Beomgyu makes a thinking sound before seemingly having an idea. “Grind on somebody’s lap for thirty seconds.”

Your eyes widen in shock, trying to comprehend Beomgyu’s words. “Grind?”

“It’s the worst I could think of without taking off your clothes,” he nonchalantly says, shrugging.

“He could’ve done it for thirty-one seconds, you know,” Soobin chimes in, and the circle erupts in laughter, as you watch the events unfold shyly.

“Ha–alright, man,” Beomgyu says, still giggling. “Who’s going to be the lucky person here?”

The laughter subsides, and the circle focuses their attention on you. You look around the crowd, all red and flustered. Fuck, what is happening?

“I–uh–”

“I don’t mind,” Jimin blurts out with a loud burp, eliciting a few giggles. “I’m already taking a lot of flak tonight, so–come grind on my lap, pretty boy.”

Your eyes widen once more, not believing the words that just came out of Jimin’s pouty lips. Is she–Is she inviting you to grind on her lap? Your mind goes haywire. Your breathing quickens. Fuck, you can’t focus.

“C’mon, you’re already a bitch either way.”

You slowly get up from the floor, all anxious. You walk towards Jimin, who’s invitingly spreading her legs wide, gesturing you towards her.

As you reach Jimin, you lower your plump ass onto her lap. Jimin’s hands creep up your waist, gripping you in your place. Your body shudders at her touch.

“Alright, someone get the stopwatch,” Taehyun says. Yizhuo would be the one to do it, setting the timer at thirty seconds.

Your ass is hovering just above Jimin’s lap, leaving a small space because you just can’t bring yourself to. Suddenly, Jimin pulls you down onto her crotch, making you yelp.

“Nghhh!”

Jimin bursts out a laugh at your submissive response. Her hold on you is firm. She’s only allowing you to move sideways. Yeah, you’re definitely not leaving her before the timer runs out.

“Ready?” Yizhuo asks.

You take a deep breath on top of Jimin before replying, “Y–Yeah.”

“Alright, go!” Yizhuo then presses the start button.

Thirty seconds left.

You move on Jimin’s crotch awkwardly. Your hands find their grips on her strong shoulders. You feel the friction between your ass and her lap heating you two up in the space between. This feels so weird, yet so weirdly comforting. You somehow feel so safe on top of her like this.

“Mmm, just like that, bitch,” says Jimin, and you can only smile shyly in response.

Twenty seconds left.

Jimin starts to thrust her hips up your ass, making you bounce softly on her, her hands still gripping onto your waist tightly. You’re trying so hard to stifle your moan from coming out and embarrassing yourself.

You feel–reduced, reduced to her little man-whore, yet you find comfort in it. Your eyes start to flutter. Your vision is filled with stars.

“C’mon, moan for me. I fucking love it when men moan,” she encourages.

Ten seconds left.

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s Jimin’s charm from below you. Your moans leak out from your lips as your movement quickens. You’re feeling like a bitch right now.

“Nghh~”

“Fuck, yeah! You’re putting on some show, pretty boy!” Jimin cheers, and that only spurs you on. Her hands are tightening on your waist. Your motion becomes more and more frantic. You’re revelling in the way she’s talking you down into her bitch.

“Alright, time’s up, guys.”

Your hands find purchase in her hair, as you grind her crotch recklessly. Your whimpers are echoing through the room. Through your narrowed eyes, you see Jimin watching you like a predator, smiling wickedly, taking in the view of her nasty little slut grinding on her lap like this.

“Guys.”

Your pants are tightened from the sensations pooling below your ass. Your whimpers become loud moans. You grind on her crotch as quickly as possible, and it feels so great, being reduced to her little man-whore like this. You swear that you can just do this forev–

“Guys!”

You’re snapped out of your little trance. It takes a blink of an eye, and you see Jimin laughing under you. Around you, the guys just watch in shock (there’s nobody filming, luckily), some having their mouths hanging open, some having their eyes widened.

“Time’s up,” Yizhuo says, showing you the zeroes on her phone.

“Oh, s–sorry,” you reply, before regretfully leaving Jimin’s lap. She’s still laughing under you.

—

You chug in a cup of beer, and another, and another. You’re still trying to make sense of what just happened earlier. You just grind on top of Yoo Jimin’s lap recklessly, moaning and whimpering on top of her. 

God, you were such a bitch.

“Hey.” Suddenly, a sound comes from your back, sounds familiar. You turn back to face its owner.

It’s Aeri, right hand holding her beer cup.

“H–Hey,” you reply nervously. The image of your intimacy with Jimin is still playing in your head.

Aeri shoots a look of concern towards you. “Are you okay? You seem a bit–red,” she asks.

“I–I’m okay, just a little drunk,” you answer, trying to brush her off the fact that you were just dry humped Yoo Jimin minutes ago.

“By the way, the guys were just talking about you,” Aeri says with a giggle. Her thumb is pointing towards your friends’ group that are trying to impress the women. “You grind on Yoo Jimin’s lap?”

Fuck.

You can only stand still in your place, unable to move a limb.

Aeri laughs at your petrified reaction. “Oh my god, you’re such a slut!” She gives your shoulder a friendly slap.

“I–It was a dare, Aeri,” you say apprehensively. That’ll prove fruitless, of course. She’s already thinking you’re a slut. She’s still laughing at you for doing so.

You wouldn’t call Aeri your closest friend, even if the distance between you and her is smaller than that of you and Jimin. You two greet each other in class. You two greet each other outside of class, but that’s it, nothing more, nothing less.

Aeri is more of a carefree type than Jimin. Getting a B is already an achievement for her. She drinks twice a week, stays over at somebody else’s place once a week. Her friends would call her a slut, and she’d happily accept it.

“Are you going to grind on someone’s lap again tonight?” she asks, giggling. “Or maybe eating some ladyfingers~”

“My god, Aeri.” You slap her shoulder softly.

“Alright, see you around!” Aeri says. You wave at her, and she waves back, before she disappears into the crowd again.

Why are you even here?

—

You’re sitting alone on the bed in the house’s bedroom. There’s a Little Fish poster on the wall. The owner sure has some taste. A few vinyls are stacking on top of one another near its player.

You’re trying to comprehend what just happened earlier. You were grinding on a popular girl’s lap, then another one came in to mock you. Oh god, it’s over.

A knock on the door pulls you out of the destructive cycle you’re in, at least.

“Yes?” you utter, and the door opens.

It’s Jimin. She’s peeking through the space between the door and the wall, as if to make sure that no one else is in the room but you (well, there’s no one else here). She then quickly enters the room, closes the door, and starts walking towards you.

“Uh–okay?” you say, puzzled by how she’s acting.

“Heyy,” Jimin greets you again. She seems a bit more–drunk?

“Hi, Jimin.” You figure that you should apologize to her. You just embarrassed her and yourself like that, and her nonchalant reaction may have been a mere defense mechanism!

“Look, I’m sorry about that dare. I should’ve controlled myself better. I’m sorr–”

Your train of thoughts is derailed by her fingers invading your mouth, making your entire body shudder in surprise. Your eyes open wide at her action. Fuck, what is she doing?

“Strip, now,” Jimin orders, drunkenly, fingers playing with the insides of your wet cavern, before she pulls them out, leaving you empty.

“Wh–What?”

“I said ‘strip’, bitch boy. What the fuck is so hard about that?” Her eyes are barely open.

“B–But–”

She plunges her wet fingers into your mouth again, stifling your slutty moans and whimpers. Her hand reeks of alcohol and something that screams her.

“Slut,” Jimin drunkenly utters, before using her free hand to unbutton your shirt, slowly revealing your abdomen inch by inch. “Just–ugh–be a good boy and listen to me, alright?”

You are starting to get lost in the haze of desire, and you can say nothing but nod at her filthy words. Your hands go to your belt, hastily unlocking it from your slutty waist. Your pants come off a little too easily, now pooling on the ground. Your cock only has your boxers left to cover it.

“A slut with a big cock–” Jimin chuckles, using her free hand to stroke your cock from the outside, and you can only moan into her filthy hands “–fucking perfect.”

You’re still sucking on her fingers enthusiastically, like a common whore. Your hands can only sit still by the sides. You don’t dare to touch her body again yet after what happened out there.

“You can touch my tits, you know. You’re standing like a rock, and it’s fucking weird,” Jimin says, and that gives you the permission to her voluptuous breasts.

Your hands start softly, from merely wandering on her tits from top to bottom. You can feel the bra underneath her midriff shirt. It’s barely containing her chest. God, fuck, she’s huge.

“You fucking love my tits, don’t you?” Jimin asks, fingers still busy exploring your mouth. “Strip for me and I’ll let you suck on them.”

You then stammeringly pull your boxers down to your ankles, freeing your cock from its tight confinement. It springs free in excitement, and you just can’t wait to plunge it into Jimin’s puffy cunt.

Your shirt follows suit as Jimin finally unbuttons it completely. You quickly get rid of the restrictive garment, and now, you’re completely nude in front of Yoo Jimin.

“Great body,” she says with a giggle, finally taking her fingers off your slutty mouth. Jimin then takes your hands towards the hem of her top, pulling it upwards, revealing the black bra that’s barely able to contain her tits. They’re almost spilling from the confinement. Fuck.

“Yeah, I fucking know they’re big, slut. Just–wait a sec,” she sneers, as her hands reach towards the back of her bra, hastily unlocking it. And with that, the garment comes off. You’re greeted with the sight of her breasts hanging gorgeously in front of your face, with brown nipples topping them. Her nipples are already hard, so ready for you to–

“Mmm~ s–suck it, slut,” she groans, her body trembling before you, hinting the pleasure she gets from this. Her hands press you harsher into her tits, wanting you to take in the taste.

Jimin reeks of the earlier alcohol, with a hint of salt on her nipples. She has been sweating a bit. God, imagine if you get to taste her after a workout, her body slick, shining with sweat. The salty taste on her tits permeates your tongue. You get to taste her sweat like that. What an experience that would be?

You keep sucking on her tits like there’s no tomorrow. When you suck on one side, you’ll use a hand to knead on the other, feeling the divine softness in your hand. You’re hungry, and only Yoo Jimin’s breasts can satiate your burning hunger.

“Wh–What a bitch,” Jimin sneers, but that only drives you further into the seemingly unending lust of yours.

Suddenly, Jimin grabs onto your hair, yanking your head back to face her beautiful features. It hurts, but in Jimin’s hand, your cock only grows harder and harder.

“Alright, get on the fucking bed,” Jimin orders, and you quickly complies with it.

Jimin follows you onto the soft bed, climbing onto it while her eyes are roaming your pliant body. She’s almost drooling at the sight, seeing you all being submissive for her like this.

She quickly discards her shorts and her already-drenched panties, and you can only watch her show in awe. Her pussy looks nothing short of puffy, so mouthwatering.

She then climbs on top of your pliant body, ready to fuck you senseless on your cock. She lines herself up with your length, before slowly lowering herself down.

At the first contact, both of you groan with the intense pleasure coursing through your bodies. Her pussy feels utterly diving, so fucking tight. Your breaths come out in a stuttered rhythm. Your entire body trembles in pure bliss.

“F–Fuckkk~” you mewl. Your mind can barely register anything but the tightness of her pussy enveloping your thick cock.

“Y–You goddamn s–slut, why is your–ugh–cock so b–big?” she moans, her body shaking in the pleasure you’re giving her.

“I–It’s g–genetics,” you answer her coyly.

Jimin bursts out a laugh on top of your cock, clearly amused by your reply. “God, you’re such a bitch, aren’t you?”

You can only shyly giggle. She’s almost at the hilt now, but the pleasure is already too intense for you.

“G–God, you’re so damn tight, J–Jimin,” you utter, unable to make sense of her otherworldly grip on your cock. God, she’s so tight.

“Th–Thanks,” she replies, her voice still stern. Her hands are drawing lines on your chest with her neatly-manicured nails. The sensation is just too much—on your abdomen, on your cock, on your mind.

Finally, she’s at the hilt. She screams in pure ecstasy. You’re splitting her open with your cock. Both of your eyes are fluttering in bliss. This feels so good.

“Oh f–fuck, you’re so–so big!” Jimin shouts. You watch as her hands are shaking on top of you, unable to handle the sheer size of you.

You say nothing, instead creeping your hands up her pillowy breasts, adding another hue of sensation to her. You start to play with her nipples, making her body spasming on top of you.

“G–Goddd~” she mewls.

Jimin then moves back up. Your cock reappears from the base once more. The feeling around your cock is ecstatic—her inner walls grazing your cock like this. It’s insane.

“Nghhh~” you moan, trying to comprehend the feeling.

“I–I’m going down now, s–slut,” she says, before ramming back down. The sound of flesh slapping into each other echoes through the room.

“Fuck!” Both of you scream in unison, involuntarily.

She moves up again, then down, then up, then she finds her rhythm on your cock. Her pussy feels unreal. She’s gripping you like a vice, so tight, so right. Without knowing, you’re plowing into her pussy with reckless abandon.

You pound her roughly with any force you have, aiming to fill her womb with your salty nectar. The sounds of moaning and flesh slapping rings through the room. The room reeks of sex. Your hands creep up onto her big breasts again. They feel so soft in your hands, and you decide to give them a firm squeeze, making Jimin’s body writhe above you.

“G–God, y–your hands, s–so good,” she says, voice barely above a goddamn whisper. Her back arches. Her eyes are fluttering. She’s falling apart.

A knock on the door pulls you out of your trance. Your motion comes to a halt in surprise.

“Heyyy, I know you guys are in there~”

Fuck, it’s Aeri.

Jimin quickly covers your mouth with her drool-stained hand, not wanting you to alert Aeri of your presence. She’s still grinding your cock recklessly, and you’re doing your best not to moan like a slut (even if you already are).

“I–It’s–ah–just Jimin here, A–Aeri,” Jimin says, trying to hide the fact that she’s using you as her fucktoy. Though the evident stutter in her voice gives way.

“C’mon, Jimin, don’t hog him just for yourself. I wanna use him too! Pleaseeee~” Aeri pleads. You can feel the desperation coming from the outside.

“Ugh, this fucking woman,” Jimin scoffs, hips moving on top of you in a hypnotic motion. Her breasts are jiggling as she moves. “Just–don’t forget to lock the door!”

You hear a happy giggle from the outside. The door opens, and here comes Aeri, still in the same clothes as the time she called you a slut earlier in the night. Though she’s already in the process of hiking up her crop top up. Her bra is slightly visible.

“Wow, Jimin, he’s already inside you? Naughty, naughty girl!” says Aeri as she closes the door. A loud click is heard.

“Tsk, says the college’s slut,” Jimin scoffs, before she goes back to riding the soul out of your pliant body.

“God forbid a woman be a little slutty, I guess,” Aeri sneers before taking off her crop top.

Aeri’s cup size, though not as large as Jimin’s, is still pretty damn impressive if you’d weigh in on this topic in the men’s circle. Her bust is also barely contained by her lacy bra, can’t see why someone wouldn’t be caught within her presence.

Your eyes are glued to the barely contained breasts of Aeri’s, despite being buried deep in Jimin’s cunt. Aeri sways her hips playfully, pulling you into another trance. It doesn’t stay for long though. Jimin calls you back into action with a flick on your taut nipple.

“Hey! Don’t–mmm!”

Jimin plunges her fingers into your mouth for the umpteenth time, it still works, of course. You’re still sucking her slender fingers like a whore (you’re a whore, her whore). Your hands roam over her body to have a grab on her large bust hanging gorgeously above your face.

“Fucking wh–whore,” Jimin sneers, unimpressed by your antics, although drowning in the pleasure of being touched by you. She seems to really want you as hers, doesn’t she?

“Ngmm~” you can only whimper out.

“Oh, come on, Jimin. Don’t be so harsh on him!” Aeri protects you, as she slowly takes off her bra, waiting to use your body in some way. “Don’t want him to cum so fast. You know how much of a slut he is, right, baby?”

You nod sheepishly with Jimin’s fingers still inside your mouth. Degradation only makes you cum faster, and you wouldn’t want to piss Jimin and Aeri off by cumming before them.

As Aeri’s bra comes off, you’re greeted with her perfect breasts. Her dusky nipples are already hard, ready to be sucked and nibbled. You’re so ready for the second pair of tits for tonight.

“Oh, c’mon, Aeri. You’re distracting him!” Jimin whines, her hands are trying to divert your attention back to her bouncing on your cock. It works, sometimes. You can see Aeri giggling in the corner of your eyes.

“Alright, alright, how about–” Aeri takes off her shorts and panties in a single swoop, putting her mouthwatering cunt on display for you “–I sit on his face.”

God, she looks so delicious naked like this.

Back to her latest words first, though. Did she just say she’s going to sit on your face?

“Seems fair,” Jimin replies, gesturing Aeri to your vacant, unused face.

“Wait, I can’t–”

“You can, slut,” Jimin commands. Her voice is stern. Her pace on your length remains reckless, trying to coax the cum out of your full balls. “Don’t think you have any say in this, bitch. Tonight’s my–no–our night.”

You only whimper in response. You’re going to get double-teamed by Jimin and Aeri, and you couldn’t be happier than this.

Aeri then climbs onto the bed, approaching you like a predator eyeing its prey. She puts her legs on both of your sides, caging your head with her meaty thighs. Her pussy is just right above you. And slowly, she lowers herself onto your face, ready to suffocate you with her cunt.

“Oh god,” you utter, so lost in the throes of pleasure Aeri is about to give you.

She lowers just one of her knees close to your head. You’ve seen a video on this before. It’ll help the woman to not get tired too quickly. Her pussy is so close to your face now, and you can do nothing but stick your tongue out, ready to eat her out.

“Oh, and,” Aeri says, halting her motion slightly, making you groan in disappointment. “Do you want to kiss me, Jimin?”

“Ah, not my thing. Sorry,” Jimin replies with a polite smile, keeping her movements erratic on your cock. God, this feels so good.

“It’s fine,” Aeri says, before completely sinking herself onto your face, making you take in her taste.

“Fuckkk~” Aeri screams. Her body is shaking in the pleasure you’re giving her. Her hands grip onto the sides of your head tightly. She doesn’t want to let you go.

It’s not hyperbolic to say that Aeri’s taste is insane. You’re completely hypnotized by her flavor on your tongue. She has the perfect amount of saltiness, and the perfect amount of musk. Aeri’s pussy is driving you haywire, even if it’s in a different way that Jimin is making you feel.

“So–perfect for–a facefuck, god!” Aeri shouts, starting to ride your face like it’s hers (it’s hers).

The sensation is unreal. Jimin is trying to pump cum out of your cock with her grinding motion as if you’re her fucktoy (you’re her fucktoy), while Aeri is riding the shit out of your face as if you’re her fucktoy (you’re her fucktoy). The scent of her pussy is filling your nostrils, and you can’t help but grab onto both women’s breasts.

“Goddd~” Aeri groans, body shaking on top of you. Jimin says nothing but letting you play with her tits, though a few whimpers are leaking out of her lips.

Aeri’s juice tastes so damn good, and you’re happily lapping her up hungrily. Her juice is running down your chin to your neck, creating a filthy trail on your pretty face. You’re revelling in her taste. You’re revelling in the way you’re pleasing her. You’re revelling in the way she fucking keens on top of you.

“S–So, you’re not all just a pretty face, huh?” Aeri asks, her taut body trembling on you. She keeps riding your face frantically. God, she really is going for it.

You answer with an even more intense movement of your tongue, making Aeri scream on top of you. She grinds on your face even faster and faster.

Inevitably, you’re going to reach the precipice. You can feel the heat pooling in your crotch. You’re going to cum inside Yoo Jimin’s pussy!

“Nghh~ g–gonna cum,” you say. It’s barely coming out with Aeri’s cunt on your mouth like this. 

You hear Aeri giggle softly above you, body trembling in pleasure. “Well, this is rather fast, isn’t it?”

“You’re late, Aeri,” Jimin says, slightly dissatisfied with Aeri’s complaints. “Maybe you can come here instead of whoring out while he’s balls deep inside of me.”

Aeri giggles again. “Fineee~ just let me know when you guys are fucking.”

“G–Girls, gonna c–cum–nghn.”

Both Jimin and Aeri quicken their pace on top of you, chasing their own orgasm. They really want to cum with you, don’t they?

“A–Alright, I’m c–close–ah,” Jimin utters. You can hear her frantic breathing from below. Her grip on your waist becomes tighter. Your left hand alternates between her breasts, giving them the treatment they deserve.

“M–Me too,” Aeri says. Her muscles tense up under your touch. Her brown nipples are harder than ever. The three of you are going to cum at the same time!

“Nghh, I–I’m so c–close, girls. C–Can I cum inside you, J–Jimin?” you ask. The feeling is irresistible now. You’re so, so close.

“F–Fucking fill my–my womb, bitch,” Jimin scoffs, her voice stern. “Breed me like–like the whore you are.”

Her words spur you on, as you thrust up into Jimin’s cunt as fast as humanly possible. Your mouth ravages Aeri’s folds recklessly.

Jimin would be the first to break. Her cunt gushes out clear liquid onto the bed. Her body spasms on top of you. You can feel her wetness pooling on your stomach. Aeri follows suit. Her squirt leaks out of her pussy onto your face as you happily drink it. Both of them scream, forming a cacophony that fills the room. 

“Yes! Yes! Fucking–Fucking love this cock.” Jimin shouts. You aren’t so sure who’s going to hear that, but you don’t care. You’re about to cum inside of her.

“G–God, I’m painting your face so good!” Aeri says.

You let go. Your cock shoots ropes and ropes of cum into Jimin’s womb. You’re breeding Yoo Jimin with your cock. Your entire body writhes under both women’s bodies. 

“I can feel it twitch inside me!” Jimin says excitedly, softly raking your body with her nails.

Your eyes flutter in ecstasy, unable to make sense of the sensations on your body. There’s the feeling of Jimin’s ass on your cock. There’s the feeling of Aeri’s thighs on your face. There’s the scent of sex and sweat filling the room. That’s So True can still be heard. It just won’t stop, will it?

Finally, you come down from your precipice. You’re panting along with the women, trying to catch your breath in this post-orgasm bliss. Fuck, that felt good.

“Slut,” Jimin sneers, getting off from your cock at the same time as Aeri unlatches herself from your face. “Bathroom, now.”

You quickly comply with her order, getting off from the bed and walking towards the bathroom. You feel so submissive, so pliant, yet it feels so right, being their little bitch boy like this.

“One more round?” Aeri jokes, giving your ass a slap, making you yelp.

“Oh, definitely,” Jimin says, determined in her voice.

“M–Maybe, I gotta take a break.”

—

[prythiansprincess]

best friend! enzo sabotages your relationship with your boyfriend

NAVIGATION// home. tag. moodboard. more.

author's note: please be warned enzo is so toxic and unhinged in this. ⚠️ content warning for drugging (not reader), gaslighting, bribing, manipulating, and sabotaging.

sweet. innocent. harmless. 

these are the words that people used to describe lorenzo berkshire. with his charming smile and puppy dog eyes, one could easily forget that he was sorted into slytherin for a reason. underneath the boy-next-door facade that he had carefully crafted over the years was a master manipulator capable of bending anyone and anything to his will, but you would never know it from the cheeky dimpled smile that lorenzo wielded like a weapon. 

thus, the mask stayed intact. no one could have ever suspected the true extent of what enzo was capable of. not even you. 

despite your long standing friendship, enzo took great care in maintaining appearances. to you, he had always been your happy-go-lucky golden retriever best friend. enzo had been there for you during the highs and lows, cheering you on through happy moments and letting you cry on his shoulder for sad ones. as of late, the latter seemed to be occurring more often than not, given your less than stellar track record with men. 

unbeknownst to you, there was never any problem with the men you chose until enzo decided there was. you may not always see it at first, but enzo was more than happy to enlighten you. in his eyes, no one could ever be worthy of being with you because they just weren’t him. 

every relationship you had ever had was just a pit stop to the final destination, so your best friend gladly ensured that you never lingered for too long.  after all, only enzo knew what was best for his pretty girl.

this time around, your pesky little boyfriend was proving to be more of a nuisance than usual. enzo had tried all of his usual tactics: intimidation, gaslighting, sabotage, but the twat had endured it all for three whole months, which even enzo had to admit was impressive. most of your exes bolted after a month, sick and tired of having to compete with him for their girlfriend’s attention. 

still, enzo wasn’t about to admit defeat. if anything, this little inconvenience pushed him to use more creative methods. 

as he stared at you from across the common room, enzo plotted and schemed. the party was in full swing by now and he was just waiting for the right time to strike. for half an hour, he watched as your boyfriend fawned all over you. the stupid twat actually had the audacity to put his hands all over his girl. enzo needed to end this. now.

fortunately for him, your boyfriend excused himself to refill your drinks. enzo followed after him, sticking close, but not close enough to rouse suspicion. he lingered by the table as your boyfriend chatted with his friends, momentarily setting his cup down. in one swift move, enzo uncorked the small vial stored in his front pocket before discreetly pouring its contents into the drink. the process was over within seconds and your boyfriend was none the wiser as he turned around and chugged from the contaminated cup.

“hey mate,” enzo announced cheerily. “I think y/n is looking for you. she’s waiting by the broom closet outside. sounded urgent.”

he watched the other boy’s eyes light up. no doubt thinking he was about to get lucky tonight. as if enzo would ever let that happen. “oh, sweet. thanks for the heads up, berkshire.” 

enzo grinned. “my pleasure.” 

a few minutes later, enzo found you chatting with mattheo and theo on the couch. you smiled brightly the second you spotted him. his pretty girl. enzo was delusional enough to think that you only ever smiled like that for him and him alone.

“there you are, enz!” enzo chuckled as you tackled him into a bear hug, standing on your tippy toes to happily hook your arms around his neck. “i’ve been looking everywhere for you.” 

he squeezed you back, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “i’m right here. you’re the one missing in action.” 

you smiled sheepishly. “sorry, I was talking to nick. speaking of, have you guys seen him?” 

mattheo and theo shrugged, too stoned out of their minds to keep track of themselves much more anyone else at the party. 

“i’m sure he’s around,” enzo offered. “wanna play king’s cup while you wait?” 

you nodded and followed after enzo. your best friend guided you through the crowd by the small of your back as you weaved your way across the makeshift dance floor, making sure to glare menacingly at anyone who dared look your way. oblivious to his behavior, you happily yapped away while enzo nodded and smiled at your drunken excitement. when you reached the table set up for drinking games, enzo patted his back pocket. 

“oh,” he exclaimed. “I think I left my wand somewhere.” 

you tilted your head, tapping your kiss-bitten lips thoughtfully. enzo had to physically restrain himself from biting into them himself. “when’s the last time you remember having it?” 

enzo pretended to retrace his steps. “I might have set it down in the broom closet when pansy asked me to grab the decorations earlier.” 

“we’ll start there, then.” 

the music muffled to a soft hum when the two of you stepped out into the hallway. the cold breeze in the dungeons felt like a breath of fresh air compared to the raging party packed with gyrating, sweaty bodies. beside the door to the common room was the small broom closet that you and your housemates used to store various items.

“is this the one?” you asked. 

enzo nodded, watching as you turned the handle. as soon as the door swung open, your jaw dropped. inside the dimly lit cupboard was your boyfriend nick, kissing someone who was definitely not you. panic filled his eyes as he stared at you then back at the girl in his arms. 

“y/n, it’s not what it looks like —

you didn’t give him a chance to finish the sentence before you slammed the door in his face. enzo followed after you in silence, knowing that he had to get you out of this situation fast. instinctively, your best friend linked his fingers through yours, holding you close and parting the crowd as the pleas of your boyfriend followed you through the party. enzo growled as nick grabbed your wrist, but you held a hand up. 

“I can explain,” nick said pathetically. 

“keep your sorry ass excuse to yourself,” you spat out as you smacked him across the face. “we’re over. you can go back to snogging millicent because you sure as hell won’t be snogging me ever again, you cheating bastard!” 

“y/n, please, you need to listen to me.” 

“don’t fucking speak to her,” enzo barked out, shielding you protectively from your now ex-boyfriend. “you’ve already done enough.” 

the whole party stilled to a stop as enzo tucked you under his arm and glared at nick over his shoulder. the other boys took quick stock of the situation and kicked him out before announcing that it was time to call it a night. you didn’t wait for the partygoers to leave before making your hasty retreat back to your dorm. 

as the two of you passed through the crowd, enzo slipped something into the hands of a passerby. his face remained passive throughout the entire exchange, keeping his focus on you even as the bag of galleons transferred from his hand to that of millicent bulstrode. enzo was careful to avoid her gaze, but his smirk of approval said it all. she had held up her end of the bargain, which he gallantly compensated her for. a reward for a job well done.

perhaps it was immoral of him to bribe her into seducing your boyfriend, but the devilish bargain only affirmed what enzo already knew. when it came to you, there were no lines he wasn’t willing to cross.

oblivious to your best friend’s nefarious dealings, you trudged upstairs to the dormitories and ignored the blatant stares from your housemates. if there was one thing a slytherin hated, it was pity. so you held your chin high and glared at the prying eyes, silently challenging them to say something. wisely, none of them dared utter a word.

enzo remained glued to your side, making sure you got in safely. once the door shut, you felt all the emotions crashing down at once. your best friend held you while you cried, embracing you tightly and stroking your hair until the tears dried up. he rocked you in silence, letting the soothing rhythm calm you. 

“do you want to talk about it?” 

“no,” you sniffled. “not really.” 

“that’s okay,” enzo said gently. ��we don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” 

“enz?” you asked in a small voice. “will you stay with me?” 

enzo nodded without hesitation. “of course, honey,” he said as he rubbed your back. “i’m not going anywhere.” 

the next morning, you woke up to the sound of loud banging against your door. beside you, enzo shifted in his sleep, snuggling you closer to his side. with a small smile, you untangled yourself from his arms and walked towards the source of the grating sound.

as soon as you opened it, you wished that you had just ignored whoever was on the other side. you crossed your arms as nick came into view, dark circles prominent under his eyes as he began to plead and beg. 

“I swear to you, I don’t know what happened,” he stated. “one minute I was standing by the drinks table and then the next thing I knew, I was in the broom closet with her.” 

“millicent,” you spat out. “at least be decent enough to speak her name.” 

“i’ve never even seen her before,” nick continued. “I don’t know how I ended up in there. someone must’ve put something in my drink. I would never cheat on you. you know me, y/n.” 

“I though I did,” you said. “now I’m not so sure I know you at all.” 

nick looked as though you had slapped him all over again. it wasn’t fair. he was the one who hurt you. he didn’t get to play victim.

“who’s at the door, honey?” enzo asked as he walked up behind you. 

your ex boyfriend narrowed his eyes at enzo’s shirtless torso, disbelief written all over his face as your best friend paraded around in a towel that barely covered his lower half. enzo smirked, knowing that nick was probably assuming the worst. good. that’s exactly what he wanted. 

“are you fucking serious?” nick fumed. “I should’ve known! you told me not to worry about him and I trusted you like a fucking idiot.” 

“you’re mad at me?” you asked in disbelief. “you’re the one that cheated, nick. at least enzo was there for me to pick up the pieces.” 

nick scoffed. “yeah, i’m sure he was. he’s always there, isn’t he? how did you even find me last night, hm? it’s because berkshire led you straight to me. he was the one that said you’d be in the broom closet. he probably knew exactly what you’d walk into because he’s the one that spiked my bloody drink in the first place!” 

“don’t you dare blame this on enzo!” you yelled. “you’ve always been jealous of him. he told me this would happen. he said that you were too insecure to understand our friendship.” 

“he’s clearly manipulating you!” nick said exasperatedly. “can’t you see that?” 

enzo stepped in, towering over nick with a menacing glare. “are you saying that I made you cheat on y/n?”

“you slipped something into my drink. I know it was you!” 

“you’re delusional, mate. don’t blame me because you lost the one good thing you’ll ever have in your sorry life. you didn’t deserve her anyways, so I guess I should thank you for finally showing her what i’ve known all along. you’re not worthy of y/n.” 

nick clenched his fists. “you conniving piece of shit —”

“leave enzo alone,” you said as you pushed nick backwards. “leave me alone! I don’t want you here. it’s bad enough that you cheated on me, but lying about it? acting like the victim and blaming my best friend for your shitty actions? this a new low even for you.” 

“y/n, you don’t understand —” 

you glared at him, pointing a finger in his face. “no, you don’t understand! if you think for a second that i’d believe you over enzo, then you clearly don’t know me at all. just leave, nick. it’s over.” 

you turned around, not wanting to see your ex-boyfriend’s face any longer. enzo pulled your into his chest, rubbing your back and murmuring soothing words into your ear. enzo made sure to smirk at nick as he kissed the top of your head before slamming the door in his face. 

having rid of himself of that pesky little problem, enzo turned his attention to you. he sat you down on the bed gently, kneeling in front of you as you cried. enzo wiped the tears away one by one. 

“I hate seeing you cry, honey,” he murmured. “he doesn’t deserve your tears.” 

“what’s wrong with me, enz? why do I always pick the bad ones?” 

enzo took your hand and placed it over his heart. “do you feel that? it breaks my heart knowing that you think there could be anything wrong with you. you’re perfect, honey. they just don’t see you like I do.” 

you sniffled as your best friend continued. “nick doesn’t know how good he had it. if I were him, I would’ve shown you how special you are, how perfect and pretty and funny and kind. I never would’ve looked at anyone else.”’

“you’re only saying that because you’re my best friend.” 

“no, i’m saying it because it’s true,” enzo said as he pressed his forehead against yours. “any guy would be lucky to have you.” 

“then why have all my relationships failed?” 

“because none of them were right for you,” enzo stated matter-of-factly. 

“how do you know?” 

“because there’s only one person who’s right for you,” enzo whispered, his honey gaze sweeping over you. “and I think you know that, deep down inside.” 

you blinked at him. “enz, what are you saying?” 

“i’m saying what all of our friends, our families, hell this whole damn castle already knows. we belong together, honey. we always have.” you swallowed thickly as enzo stroked your cheek, his puppy dog eyes so sincere and earnest. “we could be so good together, baby. don’t you see?” 

you could. enzo was the only guy who had ever treated you right. you weren’t sure what took you so long to realize it, but there it was, plain as day. he knew your favorite flowers, your favorite books, he knew that you had a scar on your elbow when you fell from a tree when you were six, he knew that you loved lasagna and hated asparagus. enzo knew everything about you. 

“i’m starting to,” you whispered back.

slowly but surely, enzo closed the gap between you. he pressed his lips against yours, gently at first, testing it out with soft and sweet pecks because he knows that he needs to ease you into it. if he kissed you the way he truly wanted to kiss you, it might scare you away because the truth was that enzo was insatiable and you were the only one that could satisfy him. 

so he strategizes. he lets himself have little pieces of you, the kisses turning more firm, still close-lipped but lingering longer. enzo savors the moment, dragging it out again and again until you’re chasing after his lips, needy for his kisses. he needs you to want this as much as he does. he needs you to understand what it’s like to be completely consumed by desire. 

enzo knows that all it takes is a taste. 

soon enough, the kisses turned heated and hungry. the makeout was sloppy and messy and desperate, tongues fighting for dominance in the most delicious way. he groaned when you sighed softly into his mouth, taking advantage of the distraction before pinning you underneath him. he smirked as your gaze dipped down to his abs, your eyes following the v-lines that disappeared below the towel that was now barely hanging off of his waist. 

it would be so easy, he thinks. so easy to strip off your little pajama shorts. so easy to bury his face between your thighs. so easy to eat your pussy until you were nothing but a whimpering mess before he flipped you over and split you apart with his cock. 

enzo wanted nothing more. he wanted you so bad that it physically hurt. he had waited so long for this, but he knows this isn’t the right time. when he finally had you, enzo would make sure that you belonged to him completely. he was willing to draw it out, to build it up, to bide his time, because enzo knew that all good things were worth waiting for.

as much as it pained him, enzo forced himself to pull away. “I don’t want to rush this,” he murmured between sweet kisses. “if we’re going to do this, then I want to do it right. let me take you out on a proper date, honey.” 

you looked so pretty all dizzy from his kisses, blinking back up at him shyly. “i’d like that, enz.” 

enzo grinned and kissed the tip of your nose. he spent the whole morning cuddling with you and smiling like an idiot because at long last, the first step in his plan to make you his had perfectly clicked into place. 

it won’t be long until you’re hooked. 

it won’t be long until you’re addicted to him as much as he’s addicted to you. 

[specsthesecond]

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°

You wake up in the comfort of your home, snuggled in thick, fluffy sheets. Despite the cold, birds still chirp outside, advising you to start your day already. You stay in bed a little longer today, staring out the window, trying to get a hold of your thoughts.

It's been a good few days since you left that Orc's house, a few days to think about the experience and mull over what to do now.

You jolt out of your thoughts when you see, out the window, quick anxious scampering behind the snow covered bushes. Jumping out of bed, you hastily get dressed, fumbling with your boots, grabbing your trusty bow hanging by the door and a few arrows. You peek outside, sneaking as quietly as possible on the old wooden floor of the stoop, arrow already notched against the bowstring. You can only see the critters ears, twitching, listening for any trouble. It's either a rabbit or a hare, you hope for the latter.

You wait there for a good fifteen minutes, bow strung, waiting for the thing to move just a little to the left of the bush for a better shot. Your fingers burn on the string, didn't have time to grab your gloves. The second it hops slightly out of the bush, you let go of the arrow and send it flying right into the cotton-tailed critter.

When you step back inside your warm cottage, you make a beeline for the kitchen with the hare in your hand. It's quite a lucky catch, a large jack. You use this as an excuse, you actually come up with plenty excuses while you prepare a hearty stew. "There's so much meat here, it would be wrong not to share." "If I don't repay him, it'll weigh on me for far too long." "I need to bring him his flask back." "I need a good hike anyway."

Stupid rationales for the absurd idea you have conjured up. Nevertheless, you get out your fanciest ceramic pot and cook your best hare stew. You fret, far more than you'd admit, over how little ingredients you have due to the winter.

Come afternoon, you're trekking the woods, past the Human territory and into unwelcomed lands. You clutch the handle of the basket holding your steaming pot of stew and his flask tightly inside, which you filled with your favourite Red bush tea. This is just so you're even, and then you never have to think about this Orc ever again.

Somewhere in your mind you know that's not true, You'll never be able to forget what happened. You were content in your woods, pretending you weren't lonely, why has this Orc changed that? It was easy pushing the cravings down before, why is the hunger suddenly so present, so consuming.

You eventually step into the clearing where his home lies, Your thoughts continue to meander as your feet take you straight to the steps into his home. Now, you can't just leave it out for him but you can't just knock on the door and run away either...

You knock on the door three times, taking a deep breath and then cursing yourself for needing to do that. What if he doesn't want to see you again? Sure, he saved you from dying but that doesn't mean he'd want you in his home ag-

The door opens slowly, it takes you a minute to look up from the stone floor of the small veranda but when you do, it's those same dark brown eyes looking back at you. He looks shocked to see you, you expected as much. After a few awkward moments of staring, you hold the basket up with both hands, opening the top to reveal the red ceramic pot and his flask. He looks down at the parcel with a rather blank expression and it makes your skin crawl with anxiety.

You gesture for him to take the basket and he quickly, with frustratingly gentle hands, takes it from you. He takes a peek inside the pot, letting the built-up steam poor out and his eyes grow even wider, you can't tell if he likes it or not and it's killing you.

Of course he didn't want to see you. The last time you were together he woke up to you, a stranger, on top of him watching him sleep! Your face is hot with shame, you turn to leave but then hear him say something in Orcish, you turn around to face him. You're a little taken back to see the hopeful look in his eyes as he holds the door open for you, waiting for you to accept his invitation.

Timidly, you step inside. Being here again sends a shiver down your spine. The Orc gently rests the basket on his little (in comparison to him) living room table, then heads to the kitchen. He comes back with a tray of two bowls, two mugs and cutlery. It shocks you how easily you take his silent invitation to stay for dinner as you both set the table as if it's a normal thing for basically strangers to do. While he dishes up hearty portions of steamy stew in rather large bowls, you pour the red tinted tea into the two mugs he brought.

You sit down on opposite sides of the wooden table and dig in. The spoon, like the bowl, is rather big and made out of what appears to be a hard dark wood. As you taste your stew, doubts trickle into your mind. Is it not thick enough? Is the meat too tough? Do Orcs prefer tougher meat? Is it too bland for him?

The scrape of his chair on the floor interrupts your thoughts and you look up at him. He's scooping up more stew with the serving spoon and plopping it into his empty bowl. You stare at him bewildered when you realise he's already going for seconds. How did he even swallow all that so fast?

He notices you staring and looks embarrassed, like he's done something wrong. You shake your head lightly and gesture for him to continue. He smiles rather bashfully for an orc and plops another spoonful onto his heaped bowl. You hide the smile that creeps onto your face behind a hot mug of tea.

After the pot has been thoroughly emptied and your stomachs are full, he starts clearing up his side of the table. You go to follow, but he swiftly takes your bowl from you, sets it on the tray with everything else and walks off to the kitchen. For a second you sit rather dumbly at the empty table, the sound of splashing water comes from the kitchen as you look around the orc's abode.

Your eyes are drawn to a packed bookshelf in the corner, you try not to be that impressed that an orc would willingly read so many books. You imagine you would be pretty insulted if someone said that about you, and you know full well that reading is a lovely way to pass the time in such a quiet life as yours and his.

He steps back into the room holding two mugs of what was left of the tea, you suppose that means he likes it. He places them on the small table in front of the couch and takes a seat. He doesn't show any indication that he expects you to sit with him but you find yourself sinking down next to him anyway.

He picks up a little book on the low table and pages through it, it's green with bold Orcish on the front. You try to seem uninterested with what he's doing, staring down at your tea until he shuffles closer to you, pointing to a specific page in the book. You scrunch your eyebrows and lean closer, reading the text he's pointing to.

"Thank you."

Your breath catches and you read further down the page, seeing bold Orcish words followed by Human Common words.

It's a translation book.

You laugh (more like wheeze) in surprise and disbelief. The Orc looks nervous, looking back at the book to make sure he pointed to the right word. You gently take the book from him and page through it, searching.

After quite a while, you finally find it, in what you assume is the "Helpful phrases" section, and you point it out for him.

"You're welcome."

He lets out a hearty laugh and you grin at the sound. You made him laugh. His eyes crinkle, deepening the crows feet just above his cheeks, which seem a darker green than before.

After that, you sit together in quiet comfort, drinking the rest of your tea and peeking at the words in his book as he pages through the translations. The book is new, the spine isn't creased from use and the pages are still firm and fresh. Did he get this book because of you?

The thought stirs something strange in your belly and you can't tell if you should invite it in or reject it. Your eyes shift to the window near the door and you jump when you see the sun is setting. How has it been that long?

You rise from the couch and grab your basket, shoving your now clean ceramic pot into it. The Orc looks at you confused, looks towards the window, and then shoots up himself, quickly heading to the kitchen. You shrug your fur coat on at the door and wait patiently for him to return, basket in hand.

He returns with the same flask he gave you the last time you left in a hurry. He may be even more bashful this time he hands it to you and you don't need to open it to know what's inside. You nod your head again in thanks and he smiles wider than you'd think an Orc capable, if you hadn't met him, that is.

You walk out of his house, flask tucked in your basket. When you reach the end of the clearing, you turn around and there he is, standing on the veranda watching you leave. You hesitate for a moment and then give him a little wave goodbye. He returns it with his own.

As you walk through thick trees, you wonder if the nearby human village has a book vendor. Not for any particular reason.

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°

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[fear-is-truth]

❝ WITH THE LIGHTS OUT, IT’S LESS DANGEROUS ❞

warnings — murder mention. s2 spoilers. suggestive pairing — nam-gyu x f!reader word count — 745 a/n — english is not my first language sorry

THE DORMITORY IS UNNERVINGLY QUIET TONIGHT, just the occasional cough or the faint rustle of shifting blankets break the stillness, but even those small sounds seem out of place. the events of the night before hang like a disaster on a frayed piano string, threatening to snap at any second. bodies are still sore, bruised, and battered from the chaos that erupted when the lights went out—violence erupting in the pitch black, leaving a trail of terror in its wake. the air reeks faintly of sweat and fear, mingled with the metallic tang of blood that had dried into dark brown stains on the floor.

the thanos team is completely disbanded, not that you cared. you didn’t much like the rapper anyway, but his death felt like a strange relief—a violent severing of a bond you never wanted in the first place. se-mi, though. your chest tightens at the thought of her. se-mi didn’t deserve what happened to her. you don’t even know how she died—no one does.

now it’s just you, min-su, and that asshole nam-gyu.

min-su doesn’t say much these days. he sticks close but keeps his distance at the same time, like he’s not sure if you’re allies or just temporary survivors sharing the same sinking ship. nam-gyu, though, you don’t trust that prick.

you’ve learned to sleep lightly, one ear always tuned to the sounds of the room. and tonight, something feels… off. the faintest sound of movement makes you jolt awake, fingers instinctively curling around the shard of glass tucked in your sleeve.

“relax.” even without seeing him, you know it’s nam-gyu. the last person you want to deal with in the near darkness. “what are you doing?” you whisper harshly, fear twisting into irritation as his silhouette moves closer. he doesn’t answer, just shoves your legs aside like he has every right to be there. the audacity of this man.

“move.”

“get off,” you shove at his shoulder, but it’s like trying to push a wall. he wedges himself onto your narrow bunk, his body pressing flush against yours.

“someone needs to keep an eye on you.”

“you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“not after what you did last night,” his arm bumps into your ribs as he makes himself more comfortable. “you’re better at playing dirty than i thought.” you bristle at the words. from anyone else, it might sound like begrudging respect, but from nam-gyu, it feels like a thinly veiled insult. after all, you were just trying to make it out alive.

“then keep an eye on me from your own bed.”

“what bed?” he snaps. you realise belatedly that his mattress must’ve been stolen during the free-for-all. you open your mouth to argue further, but nam-gyu suddenly wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you down against the mattress with him.

“shut up,” he hisses, breath warm against your cheek. “you think i trust you after everything? you’re lucky i’m still on your side, or you’d already be dead.”

the shard of glass digs into your palm, and you loosen your grip, debating whether to stay still or stab him. the latter is very tempting. a chill runs through you, but it isn’t fear. not entirely. his grip on you is unyielding, almost desperate, as if holding onto you because he doesn’t know what else to do with thanos gone.

“this isn’t necessary.”

“stop moving,” he hisses. you shift again, uncomfortable because there’s something hard pressed against your lower back. “unless you want to wake everyone up. trust me, they’ll have a field day when they see us all cuddled up.”

“this isn’t cuddling. it’s you being a creep.”

“call it what you want, just quit squirming for god’s sake.” he grouses, “you’ll just make it worse.” nam-gyu moves again, adjusting himself discreetly.

“make what worse?” the words tumble out before you can stop them, but the second they do, you freeze.

then it dawns on you.

oh.

heat rushes to your face, mortified as the realisation settles in. you freeze, hyperaware of every inch of him against you—the solid weight of his chest, the curve of his thigh pressed to yours, and now… the unmistakable press of his hardened cock slotted firmly against your ass. nam-gyu clears his throat awkwardly.

“just go to sleep.” the edge in his tone is softened by exhaustion, one that mirrors your own. “we’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.”

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[enjakey]

Me After Him

Pairing: model!Jake x model!Fem!Reader

Hello! This fic (25k) was posted in my old account that I have since deleted a long time ago. This is a new account so I’m reporting this here. I thought I’d never bring any of my old shit back but I love this series too much. If you’re wondering why this sounds familiar, it’s probably because you’ve read it a long time ago. Not because it’s plagiarized. None of my work is plagiarized, please understand that. My writing style is carefully curated from the many Japanese and Russian writers I engage with. This plot came to me after a horrible loss in my life- three years ago.

Please enjoy the read. There's a Sunghoon version that you can find, too.

Summary: Jake, who lived with his best of friends in New York, scores a jackpot- he made it in the modelling industry and now, he was one of the best of the best. He thinks his life is perfect- until he meets Y/N; mysterious, quiet and broken Y/N

Heeseung | Jay | Jake | Sunghoon | Sunoo | Jungwon | Niki | Masterlist

JAKE WAS NEVER EXTROVERTED. He was ambitious and successful, but never extroverted. He chose to prioritise himself and decided to prioritise his dream of becoming the most successful model he could become. Then came his family and the six friends he made in summer camp when he was ten years old. That was all that was in the bubble he called home; his dog, his parents, his brother, his friends, himself, and his career.

At the beginning of his career, the boy’s character had been marred by the media more than most expected. He supposed that was what happened to most people that were on their road to success. Journalists claimed that he had an attitude, that his leading form of communication was glaring at others when they spoke or showing attitude to those that showed interest in conversing with him. Yet, on the other hand, the photographers he worked with argued that he had always been respectful and cooperative, and even a little innovative.

His career skyrocketed around the time he graduated high school. He went to a community college for the sake of education, but he rarely showed up. Photoshoots occupied his time, press meets, walking for runways of various fashion shows and meeting with designers. Jake was acquainted with most of the industry by the time he turned nineteen. He tried his best to be friendly, to not cuss at paparazzi that were just trying to be nice and to not show crudeness while answering selfish and personal questions- but he never made friends. He’d rather not.

At the age of twenty, the boy owned a small apartment in New York City and drove around with an Audi. The car was gifted to him by the company themselves because he had made an appearance in one of their advertisements.

As mentioned before, his career skyrocketed and it seemed like he had everything a young man like him could ask for… That is… Until he met Y/N.

The first time he saw her was at a party an acquaintance threw at a pub in the middle of the city. He was told it was just supposed to be a get-together of new and upcoming models of the industry and the models who seem to have been making a name for themselves. Jake assumed he fell into the latter category when he was invited. It wasn’t like his name was as popular as that of the Hadid sisters or Lucky Blue Smith but he was famous enough and he was successful enough and he received an income that was above the average of what models usually get.

People showed him respect, which was rare in the industry he found himself thriving in.

He assumed Y/N fell in the former category of models when he laid eyes on her. She was standing at the end of the pub, leaning against the bar and sipping on a glass of what he made out to be wine. Her eyes were cold and observant, her gaze piercing through the heavy air of the party. Her hair was pin-straight and he wasn’t sure if it was natural. Her presence at the party, or any party at all, didn’t seem natural. But the way she wore her makeup and the way she walked away from the bar in her heels and the way her body looked in the sequined black dress made it seem like parties were all that her life revolved around.

Stolen glances of her were all he got that night. He saw her wandering the bar alone, only speaking to those that spoke to her first. He saw her speaking to a man with a goatee and glasses, who he assumed was her manager. He saw her sitting in booths alone and not entertaining any company that came by her. He didn’t know if she had an attitude problem like people painted of him, or if she was just shy. Jake didn’t even learn her name that night, nor did he put in the effort to ask anyone about her. Because he thought there was no point in enquiring about someone he was sure he’d never cross paths with again. He was sure he’d see her around in news articles any time soon. But for that night, all that he was left with of hers were her piercing eyes and her confident walk.

He didn’t think about her much after that day, though.

Around two weeks later, Jake was called in for a photo shoot for a semi-popular magazine. He was told he was to model along with another girl who was known to be all the rage recently. He was told she was in demand for a lot of photoshoots and runways for many fashion shows. He was told that she reminded a lot of people of him when he was just starting. He was told her name was Y/N.

Y/N Y/LN.

It wasn’t until ten minutes into entering the photo studio that he realised who he was modelling with. It was the girl he saw at that party, standing with the photographer, Dubois, and nodding at whatever information was being said to her. He stood frozen in his spot for a good ten seconds before he took his first step toward her.

Her hair was styled in a slicked-back ponytail, dressed in a tight black dress that showed off her collar bones and waist and her eyes looked just as sharp and piercing as he remembered. He didn’t know if it was the eyeliner or if it was just the gaze she held. Jake found himself being intimidated as he approached her… and he wondered if that was how people felt the first time they met him.

But apart from that, he thought her name suited her.

When he finally brought himself to stand in front of Dubois and Y/N, it took around ten seconds for either of them to notice his presence. Both their heads turned to him at the same time and Dubois was the first to speak. “Ah, you’re finally here,” he said and Y/N’s eyes softened, along with her expression.

Jake greeted him with a nod before turning his head and meeting his eyes with Y/N’s. It was like time slowed and the air in his lungs escaped when she smiled at his presence. It was like he was breathing and tasting the air for the first time again since he was born when he realised that she was smiling for him, because of him.

He wanted to know why she had that effect on him. And he wanted her. Somehow and someway, he wanted her.

And a part of him wanted the craving to go away because it was new. She was new. And it was scary.

Y/N stretched her hand towards him, expecting a handshake as her smile grew wider. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N, nice to meet you.”

Her voice made Jake snap, eyes blinking and head shaking from side to side before forcing a smile out and stretching a hand out himself. “I’m Jake… Sim, good to have you here,” and their hands met in the middle and Jake thought he had just touched royalty. All he wanted to do was freeze time and stand there and admire her… He was too in awe to continue to smile.

“Now that the introductions are finished…” Jake started focusing on Dubois’ instructions, nevertheless continuing to observe Y/N from the corner of his eyes. Her piercing stare returned, as did the sober look on her face. He assumed it was just the way her face rested, or rather it was a look that grew on her. Because there was stress wrinkled into her forehead and the weight of some kind of pain resting on her shoulders. She just hid it well in the way she walked and talked.

It wasn’t Dubois’ first time working with Jake. In fact, he was very fond of working with the young model. He had always been cooperative and open about what he did and didn’t find comfortable doing. So it took him by surprise when he noticed the way Jake was almost shy to touch Y/N, as though she would run away if he put too much pressure on her with his touch. Dubois lowered his camera out of shock at a point but didn’t bother to mention the differences in his demeanour.

The pictures turned out beautiful regardless. A month after the photoshoot took place and after they were edited and airbrushed and filtered, they were published. The picture on the front cover of the magazine made Jake’s heart skip a beat. It was a simple picture if he had to be honest. They were sitting across from each other but their hands met in the middle, eyes looking into one another and knees touching. He didn’t remember the pose being as intimate as the pictures had turned out.

He chalked it up to the editing.

Chills went down his spine when he received a text from Y/N. It almost seemed coincidental, for him to be thinking about her and staring at the front cover of the magazine with a picture of them together and to get a message from her at the same time. Jake felt like he was in high school, pining over a stupid high school crush.

She had messaged him on Instagram to celebrate the publishing of their pictures. It was a simple text, really. A few words on how the pictures looked amazing and a few party popper emojis were thrown in with it. Jake took ten minutes to comprehend his thoughts and ten minutes to calm himself down before thinking of a response. He congratulated her back and agreed on how the pictures turned out great.

He waited for a response. He waited for five minutes, then ten, then twenty and by the thirty-minute mark, Jake had accepted that she wouldn’t text back. He wondered why. Perhaps it was because there wasn’t much she could say back, or maybe he responded too late and lost the chance of indulging in a nice conversation. But then it occurred to him that he would have normally done the same- he wouldn’t respond to most people that looked for small talk.

He threw his phone across the couch with a sigh and sulked.

It wouldn’t be until two months later that he’d see Y/N again, this time wearing a ruby red dress at another acquaintance’s birthday party. She looked exactly like how he remembered, the same piercing eyes scanning the room and the same confidence radiating off of her as she walked around and found herself a seat, a glass of red wine held between her red manicured nails. He thought she looked fiercely beautiful from afar, he could only imagine how he would feel if he went up to her.

Jake didn’t know why he found it so hard to simply walk up to a girl and speak, greet her with a handshake and smile and hope for the best. But this was the girl that refused to leave the end of every trail of his thoughts for the past two months. Every time he read about her or heard about her and every time he saw another one of her pictures published in a magazine or article, he suddenly felt unworthy of her.

From his point of view, she looked like the forbidden fruit, dressed in red and waiting for someone to chat her up as she sat alone and sipped on wine, continuing to observe everyone in the room. But the difference was, that Jake knew she wasn’t looking for small talk. It was clear how uninterested she seemed by the way she easily ended every conversation that anyone started with her and she looked like a pro in ending chit-chat without hurting anyone’s feelings.

Perhaps she liked her own company, perhaps she wanted to be alone and the thought almost made Jake back away and mind his own business. Almost. He strode up to her, hands in his pockets and head slightly tilted downwards as he reached her table, his heart beating faster by the second. He noticed her lips pull upwards as his presence came closer to her, but a part of him was wondering if she was smiling for him or if it was out of habit.

“Hi,” she said, settling her wine glass on the satin-covered table. “Didn’t think I’d see you here,” she crossed one leg over the other, arms resting on her knee as she leaned towards him with a dopey smile.

“You’re gonna see me everywhere, darling,” he chuckled but his eyes widened when he noticed Y/N’s raised brows at his response. “Oh,” he breathed, realising his snarky remark. “I didn’t mean it that way-”

“Oh, I know, I know,” Y/N laughed at him, lightly and softly as she hid her toothy grin behind her hand and leaned forward then leaned back into her chair- her entire demeanour seemed relaxed and she allowed herself to sit more comfortably. Jake didn’t know if it was because of him, or if she was simply being friendly.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I swear I’m not self-obsessed or narcissistic. It was just me joking-”

“Jake,” Y/N laughed again. “I get it, I get the humour. I like it,” she shook her head and her eyes seemed to sparkle as she looked at him with a soothing smile.

“Well, I’m glad you like my humour then,” his smile formed awkwardly but Y/N’s only grew wider.

She nodded her head towards the chair beside her and Jake almost stumbled on his feet and words as he sat there, pulling his seat closer to hers. But they didn’t speak, not for the first ten minutes or so before he found a conversation to start. And she spoke. Freely. And she didn’t seem to push him away like she did everyone else. Perhaps it was because he didn’t indulge her in any small talk which she seemed to hate so much but he found a part of himself wishing, praying that she was talking to him because she liked him or saw him as something special.

He wanted to be something special for her, and he wanted her to be something special for him.

Jake swore he never felt that way about someone in his entire life.

Yet as the party ended and Jake walked Y/N to her cab, he noticed just how closed off she had been while talking to him. Changing the topic of conversation every time it seemed to get personal or simply laughing at his words and forcing out responses that she didn’t seem to mean- she looked like she was keeping her walls up, like her emotions were on guard and like she was scared of being herself.

They exchanged numbers before her cab drove off and she gave him the brightest smile and waved her hand goodbye until her cab was out of sight and Jake thought that was the sweetest thing someone could ever do. And on his way back home, he replayed the entire night in his head, how they talked over wine and how the ruby and gold ring looked prettier on her finger when it was placed on her lips while concentrating on what he said.

Oh, how Jake loved the way she looked at him with such focus and attention, like he was the only person she cared about at the moment with her strikingly focused eyes and pursed lips. He knew he was romanticising the moment and painting it under a light that completely marred what must have actually happened but he couldn’t help it. He doesn’t remember the last time he had an actual conversation with someone that wasn’t part of his friend group or his family.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he was basking in her attention. He felt alive when she seemed to be giving genuine responses to his questions and when she threw her head back in laughter along with him. The only thing missing was for her to open up, to be so carefree around him that she would speak whatever came to that pretty mind of hers.

He swore to himself that he’d make that happen. Someday.

Her laughter and her words were still stuck in his head as he fell onto his bed and while he stared at the wall, he imagined what their next conversation would sound like. He imagined what she’d wear and where they’d meet next. Would it be by chance, for another photoshoot, or maybe even for a date if he had enough courage to ask her?

He imagined what a date would look like with her- if she’d want to go stargazing with him just as much as he did or if she enjoyed the silence of an art museum. He wondered if she liked aquariums and he wondered if she liked picnics and board games. He wondered if they’d go shopping together or try new restaurants together. He wondered if she would ever open up to him and he wondered if she would ever let her walls down.

There was just something about her and Jake didn’t know what it was yet.

Just as the clock struck twelve and just as he was beginning to feel lonely, he called his insomniac friend, Sunghoon, who he knew wouldn’t pass up an opportunity of meeting up in the middle of the night. And Jake knew he was probably the only person willing to listen to him rant or willing to keep him company at an ungodly hour of a work day.

The boy showed up in no time, standing on the doorstep with a dozen cans of beer and chips.

Sunghoon was probably the first friend Jake made in that summer camp. They were first cabin mates, their bond starting with their childish love for making bracelets out of thread which turned into staying up late and sharing all the deep dark secrets their ten-year-old selves could possibly have had. Sunghoon was probably the one that understood him the most out of everyone and Sunghoon was the first to find out anything new about Jake and his life. This time was no different.

While he watched Jake sit on the floor and lean against the leg of his bed, drinking his beer while speaking of a girl with piercingly dreamy eyes and a soothing voice, he wondered what had gotten into his best friend. He wondered if he had ever heard him speak of someone that way and he realised this was the first time. The boy sulked deeper against the headboard and threw a pillow on his lap to lean his elbows on, deep in thought while Jake continued speaking.

“You know she’s still in high school?”

“Dude.”

“Chill, she’s eighteen,” Jake shook his head. “But she’s talented as fuck if she made it to this level of fame while still in high school.”

There wasn’t much Sunghoon, Jake or the internet knew about Y/N. Just the basics like where she grew up or what her favourite colour was. Her life was more private than Jake’s and no one thought that was possible. He didn’t know if it were a good thing, that Jake was falling for someone he knew nothing about and was starting to create a fantasy of her in his head. He didn’t know if it was possible to crush on someone so deeply, especially when they weren’t in high school anymore. He wondered if his best friend was going to end up hurt as he had been with every girl he had ever dated.

Sunghoon could swear that it was just Jake’s curiosity surrounding her mystery that was attracting him.

But a part of him thought Y/N was different. If she managed to get him to swoon over her like a school boy, then there must be something special about her, right?

Jake talked about her with so much admiration, you could see it in his smile and hear it in his voice. He talked about her until there was nothing else to say and he voiced every ‘what if’ until it wasn’t fantasising but just overthinking. He spoke about her until his excitement was gone and all that was left was why she was the way she was and why he liked her though he knew nothing of her.

“Do you just think she’s attractive or something?” He offered as Jake groaned once again. “What about her exactly are you so caught up with? What's so special about her?”

“I don’t know!” Jake flung his arms in the air, his foot nudging his empty can of beer that caused it to roll across the room. “There’s just something about her. It’s like she’s purposefully built up these walls and I want to know what’s behind it.”

“Maybe she’s going through something,” Sunghoon shrugged. “She seems closed off, right? People with trust issues are usually like that,” he took another sip of his beer and suddenly, all the cans were empty but both the boys were sober from frustration.

“But what’s causing those trust issues?” Jake thought out loud.

“I don’t know man, I guess we just have to wait and see.”

“She’s trying to save herself and I’ll figure out exactly from what.”

IN FACT, Y/N WAS saving herself from something- from heartbreak. Or, from another heartbreak, rather. She had enough at that point. From being used, replaced and lied to, she decided it was best to focus on herself and work towards making a better life for herself instead of being hung up on people that were not worth her time. And all of that was triggered by a boy named Sam whom she thought she would be with for the better part of her life.

Sam was good when she first met him. They were both just juniors in high school, oblivious to the bad that could come their way. She thought he was the perfect boy for her, the kind she saw in movies or read about in books, the kind she conjured up in her head before falling asleep. She gave him her all, gave him the time she would never give anyone else and let herself fall for him until he was the only person she felt safe around. Because he was truly worth it all and because he didn’t hurt her and promised to protect her and defend her no matter what. He told her she was his favourite person, he told her she was his number one choice. He was perfect… until he wasn't.

Until he changed himself and prioritised a good time over a good thing and until he took his girlfriend for granted and until she found herself crying over him every night before falling asleep. Sam left her at her lowest and then she was all alone.

It took her two months to get back on her feet and start trusting her friends again and it took her two months to realise that it was better not to wish for his return anymore. She accepted that she deserved better and she accepted that he wasn’t the right person for her. And, that’s when she started modelling.

It took three months for her career in modelling to become something to be proud of. Only she knew how much energy and effort it took to get to where she was and only she knew how trimerous and taxing it was to deal with depression, loneliness and heartbreak while trying to make herself successful at the same time.

By the time the first semester of her senior year started, Y/N had become a well-respected model, yet her friend circle shrunk to maybe two or three people.

The loneliness didn’t bother her as much anymore but the pain was still there. Hurt loomed over her every time she thought of Sam or herself and she wondered why she was never good enough or if she was lovable or if she could ever find true love. Her heart ached, but all she could do was distract herself.

Y/N was making more money than an average model. She was well known, and famous even, and she rarely showed up to school. Perhaps that was good, it would mean she wouldn’t have to be reminded of those who hurt her and left her. But at the same time, she didn’t know anyone outside of her school and her newfound trust issues made it hard for her to make new friends from the industry she thrived in.

So, she started making boundaries, saving herself from sabotage before anyone even got the chance to hurt her. She was nice to everyone, yes. But it wouldn’t go further than a friendly conversation. At that point, she was coming to terms with being by herself and only depending on herself… Until she met Jake.

When she met him at their photoshoot, Y/N felt more self-conscious than she usually did. To be fair, she was modelling with someone considered more famous and successful than her, someone who was pretty much out of her league- obviously, she felt self-conscious around him. But when she caught herself looking for stolen glances from him, smiling at him when he wasn’t looking at her and almost admiring his pale skin and rosy lips; she knew he had to be different.

Y/N didn’t think much of how she felt about him, though. After the photo shoot ended, she pretty much forgot about him and the loneliness and heartbreak entered her chest again and brought chills to her bones. That night, she remembered laying in bed with tears rolling down the sides of her face, thinking of what could have been instead of appreciating what was. She couldn’t even call someone to distract herself and just dwelled in her misery.

When she saw their pictures finally published on the front cover of a magazine, she found herself admiring them. She thought the picture looked stunning, mostly because she thought she looked pretty sitting beside Jake, like they made a good-looking couple. He was smiling and she was smiling and a part of her was hoping that his smile was genuine and not staged. A part of her hoped they could have more photo shoots again because the experience was genuinely much more fun with him compared to anyone else she had modelled with.

The entire week following the publishing of their pictures, Y/N remembered using the thought of Jake to distract herself from thinking about Sam. But it didn’t work and she had given up and suddenly Jake was the last thing she thought about as loneliness and despair reappeared in her life.

She wanted to feel something for Jake. She wanted to feel something for anyone but Sam.

So the next time she saw Jake, she didn’t force herself to push him away. She chose to sit with him and speak with him, just as he approached her when he could have been getting acquainted with the rest of the party attendees. He chose to sit with her and she noticed it. He chose not to leave her company and she appreciated it. And she tried her best to make sure he understood that he had her undivided attention though she would usually rather focus on her wine. She thought the outfit he wore by AMI Paris suited him well, complimenting his dewy eyes and hair and the nonchalant attitude he was trying to hide. She noticed how his responses were standing on the border between sarcastic and flirty and she saw how much effort he seemed to have been putting in to be nice to her.

He was trying. She thought that was the most anyone could do.

The issue was that she didn’t know why he was trying. She didn’t know why he was showing interest in her or why he was forcing himself to be nice to her. Was it a bet he was participating in? Or was it because she could provide him with something he needed? Nothing made sense in her head, but she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

And as she laid on her bed that night, her favourite music playing in the background, Y/N thought about the way he laughed at her jokes and the way he was so eager to continue their conversation. She thought about how he had refused to leave her side, even when other party guests had come up to them and asked for a chat. She thought about the one time their hands had accidentally brushed against each other and she thought about the way he’d looked at her through his lashes and she thought about the way his skin glowed under the lighting of the chandelier.

Y/N felt butterflies for the first time in a long time and she didn’t know if she was prepared to face her emotions yet.

Tears spilt past her eyes that night too, and if she was keeping an accurate count, it would be the first time she was crying in a week. All her thoughts and emotions somehow led her back to thinking about Sam and how he’d moved on and how he was happy with the girl he told her not to worry about. Yet here she was, a semi-famous model and a rich teenager, weeping in sorrow and wondering if she’ll ever find someone to love her the way she wanted and deserved and if she would ever be good enough for anyone.

She spent the next day doing absolutely nothing. It was one of the rare days where she had no work to tend to and usually, she was expected to go to school. Her parents had pestered her and almost begged her to at least show up in school because she hadn’t been studying and they were convinced that she was going to fail her exams. Y/N saw no point in them anymore. She simply told them that she would study without the help of her teachers. Her parents snarled at her and went back to minding her own business.

It was unhealthy to stay in her room all day but she had no energy to do anything else. She watched a movie for a while, then listened to music and picked at the loose skin around her fingernails. At a point, she found herself sitting in silence, eyes spacing out and mind buzzing with thoughts that only made her heart pound and ache and come to the verge of ripping into two pieces.

Her phone didn’t buzz from any text or phone call from her friends and she knew they were all busy with studies and college applications but she had to wonder why her life always lead her to be lonely in whatever she did. She didn’t have any friends she could relate to or depend on or call to cry about how stressed she was from moving around from photoshoot to photoshoot all day. She didn’t have anyone to share her accomplishments and bliss with. And she didn’t have anyone she could laugh with or go out to parks with or watch movies with. She lost it all and she dealt with it all alone, not because she wanted to but because she had no other choice. And she accepted that she would be all alone and that it was about time she started controlling her emotions instead of letting them control her.

But it weighed too heavy on her heart- it hurt.

She didn’t know how much longer it was going to last- the brooding and the self-pity. Most importantly, she didn’t know how much more she could take. Yet every day, she found herself forcing on a smile and powering through her errands until she could come back home and be with her issues without hiding them, all alone yet again. Her days were interesting, but they felt so repetitive.

Y/N made her way down the hallways of GQ’s headquarters, the clicking of her heels ricocheting off the barren walls. Tony, her manager, guided her to the meeting room, where she was greeted by a group of models who were all there for the same reason- to read through their contracts.

Y/N was about to model for GQ, one of the most renowned magazines, yet not a bone in her body or fibre in her being could force itself to feel any ounce of happiness or excitement. This job would give her a paycheck pricey enough to let her, an eighteen-year-old high schooler, rent out an apartment of her own for a little while but she wasn’t thrilled. She simply faked eyes of glee and a smile of appreciation as she took her seat and was handed her contract for her to look through.

Tony assured her that he would be waiting at the reception for her.

If she thought about it, Tony would probably be the person that was there for her the most. She wasn’t planning on it, but one day when he had come to her house to pick her up for another errand to complete, he found her lying in the corner of her room, crying her eyes out while curling into herself and it was the first time she had told him anything personal about herself. The sight was gut-wrenching, enough for him to promise her that he would be there regardless of his circumstance and that he was her friend.

Though Y/N didn’t exactly call him when she was crying or was feeling lonely, it was clear how much he cared for her. Tony, though he was perhaps twice her age, quickly became somewhat of an uncle to her. He checked up on her frequently and ensured all her needs were taken care of. He would mentally and emotionally prepare her for situations he knew she would feel uncomfortable in and he would tell her all she needed to know for any new job.

But he was only human and humans made mistakes. Tony was no less because when Y/N realised that he didn’t tell her that Jake would be part of the GQ shoot as well, she almost wanted to hit him.

He could have told me sooner, she thought, because when Jake walked into the meeting room, she swore she felt her heart swell with something she would describe as anticipation and she felt excited. She was excited to work with him again, she was excited to be in the same room as him again. If she had known beforehand that she would work with him, perhaps she would have felt this delight for a little longer and maybe she would have looked forward to working with GQ.

It took Jake a few seconds to make eye contact with Y/N. He was in the middle of removing his coat and taking his seat when he saw her and the smile on his face looked brighter than the one she wore. They waved at each other enthusiastically for a brief moment before Jake's attention was pulled away by a man handing him his contract.

Once he settled, the room went quiet and everyone was back to minding their own business. They stayed in that room for a good hour. An hour that was filled with Y/N glancing at Jake through the corner of her eyes and Jake smirking every time they caught themselves looking at each other. The rest of the models were clueless and Jake thought that was the most amusing part.

They were told that the shooting would start the next day, somewhere on the outskirts of New York. Y/N just counted on Tony to take her where she was supposed to. Once they were all briefed on the timings, requirements and expectations of the shoot, they were piled out of the room and she was left to stand in front of Jake with an awkward smile as everyone walked past them, returning to their own lives.

She didn’t know exactly what to say or do. Her hands balled into fists and her foot tapped rhythmically on the tiled floor. She couldn’t even will herself to look him in the eyes and she was quickly reminded how she wasn’t usually like this. Being nervous and shy wasn’t how she portrayed herself to be, especially with the people she worked with.

Perhaps one day she would regret ever showing Jake the vulnerable side of her. Perhaps one day she would regret opening up to him or wanting to be something more than acquaintances with him. Perhaps she would regret putting herself in a position where she could easily get hurt again. But at that moment, as Jake stared her down with nervous eyes and a softened smile, she was convinced he would never hurt her.

“You didn’t tell me you’d be here,” he said, referring to the night at the party where she could have easily told him that she was booked for the GQ cover shoot. But then again, Jake didn’t have a chance to mention it either. “We could have come here together.”

At that, Y/N felt her heart flutter. Because Jake Sim, the model who had been popping into her thoughts unwelcomed and the pretty boy she thought was out of her league, basically said that he wished he had taken the chance to spend time with her, make memories with her, have her be a part of his schedule- even if it was just for a day.

“Maybe next time?” She offered, completely unsure of what to say, still taken aback.

“Or, if you’re free now…”

“Yeah, I’m free now,” nodding enthusiastically, her smile grew with expectation.

Jake chuckled. “We could do something together now?” His shoulders raised as though he was making a proposition.

He was almost convinced that she would bail on him but then she said, “I’d love that,” and the insecurities and nerves growing in his stomach disappeared and he allowed himself to take a breath of relief. He extended a hand for her to take and she meekly looped her arm with his and it didn’t feel as awkward as they thought it would be. The pair walked out of the building before telling their managers that they were heading off. Then they got into Jake’s car.

AND THAT’S HOW THEIR friendship began.

Jake took her to a cafe downtown that day and all they did was talk and sip on mugs of coffee. They talked about Y/N’s school and how Jake entering the modelling field was all out of pure luck. They talked about their lives and their family and friends they said they’d introduce each other to. They spoke about their interests, which then stemmed to Y/N ranting about true crime cases and that caused Jake to quickly realise it was her favourite form of entertainment.

That day, they didn’t take pictures or touch their social media but left the cafe when the sun started to set and when the stars were shining. Jake, being a concerned gentleman, had offered to drop Y/N home but she refused and assured him that it wouldn’t be her first time taking a cab home so late into the night. He asked her to text him when she reached home and she did as she was requested.

“I had fun today, we should do it again sometime,” he texted her too and Y/N was the first time in a long time that Y/N laid on her bed with glee rather than a frown and tears rolling past her cheeks.

For the first time in a long time, she fell asleep with a smile and she fell asleep looking forward to the next day because she would see him again. And she fell asleep with a smile because she didn’t think of Sam and didn’t wish the blood supply to her heart would be cut off. She fell asleep with a smile because perhaps her life wouldn’t feel so tedious and repetitive anymore.

It would be the first time in a while that Y/N had fun in a photo shoot. Because not only was Jake’s presence refreshing, but it was also encouraging. Jake being there, posing for the same camera as she was amid other models, brought her energy she didn’t think she had in her. It was like something in her lit up and her face gave off a glow that the photographer was almost astonished to see.

A few days after that photo shoot, there were rumours of GQ wanting Y/N to be their ambassador but they were deemed to be untrue.

Y/N and Jake talked a lot the following days. Mostly on text, but they still talked a lot. He would respond to her and update her every chance he could, even in between his most exhausting errands and Y/N found herself doing the same. Those texts soon turned into calls and within a month, they found themselves at each other's houses almost every weekend.

They helped each other grow and Y/N didn’t realise how much she needed someone like Jake until he started caring about her. He started caring about her in ways she didn’t think were possible because whenever he was at her place, he would make sure she ate enough and he would make sure she took her daily vitamins. He checked up on her every day and called her before he went to sleep like it was a ritual. On days she went to school, he would be there at the end of the day to pick her up, just in case she had a worse day than usual.

He asked about Sam a lot. He would ask about how their relationship started and how he treated her and what caused their falling apart. Y/N found herself answering his questions with no hesitation and no tears. A part of her, a huge part of her, felt more comfortable and safe around Jake- more than she felt around Sam or anyone else.

“He used to take care of me the way you are now, you know? Until we started hurting each other.”

“Anyone that loves you is gonna take care of you this way, Y/N. Anyone that loves you is gonna treat you the way he used to. There was nothing special about that. Do you know what makes it special? If the person keeps trying and realises that to build a relationship, it takes a lot of mistakes and lessons and effort. Do you know why he wasn’t the one? Because he stopped putting effort and because he gave up and went for someone easier.”

Y/N ignored what Jake insinuated on and his choice of wording. She turned her head to the side to hide her grin and bit her lips. This is what I needed to hear, she thought to herself. Hearing it from Jake simply made all the more sense.

“Is there anything that makes you special?” Through her lashes, she could see the way his lips parted into a smirk and his eyes flickered from her to the bowl of food in his hands.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out,” he said, and though the words came out teasingly, Y/N could make out the sincerity in his eyes. Jake brought another spoon of rice to her lips and she took the food into her mouth, gaze not leaving his.

Jake didn’t complain about having to take care of her. He didn’t complain about her behaviours or mood swings or needs. He accepted her. He accepted her enough not to want her to change. He accepted her enough to love her the way she was.

Y/N was learning that this was what love looked like. Romantic or not.

On a day standing between the border between spring and summer, Jake took her to Pier 62 Skatepark. He told her that it was a lucky day because all six of his friends were not burdened by packed schedules of internships or exams and he told her that he was excited to introduce her to them. He also told her, or rather warned her, not to believe any jokes they made about him or any weird childhood escapade of his that would be mentioned.

Somewhere on the curved ledges on the concrete, she saw six boys sitting in a row, all of whom had differentiating features of experience and maturity, their feet dangling off the edges as they laughed amongst whatever conversation they were having. She knew they were all of different ages and she could easily name who each was with how Jake had previously described them alone. And she wanted to show off and greet each boy herself by name but she didn’t. The need to give a good first impression dissolved as she got closer to them and all that was left was nerves and an awkward smile that compelled her to hide behind Jake’s shoulder.

Jake noticed her shying away and a huge part of him wondered where the confident girl he met all those months ago had disappeared. He wondered if the girl who always had her walls up at parties when she showed up wearing fancy dresses had died. He wondered if her pricking gaze and strut of a walk were all lies- but then he also realised that she was usually putting on a confident front and independent mask when she was alone. That look of judgment and observance was always there when she was alone, in a room filled with strangers, whose opinions she could manipulate just by the way she looked. She couldn’t do that now because she was sure Jake probably spoke about her and her character to his friends and she couldn’t do that now because these people were sitting there, waiting to get to know her. After all, their best friend, Jake Sim, wanted them to.

Y/N was terrified, to say the least, knowing she had no other choice but to speak about herself and think of witty responses to their words. She didn’t want to admit it but all those previous months of being depressed and lonely almost made her forget how to socialise and Jake was simply a blessing of a friend. There was a reason for her silence at parties and there was a reason why she pushed everyone away once she sensed that small talk was withering apart. She would rather keep to herself than give away that she was socially awkward and isolated through a forced conversation. In those times, Y/N had no other option but to hide behind a mask she created for herself and she did a damn well job at it.

But she didn’t have to hide behind herself now because she had Jake to hide behind and though his heart melted at the thought of her depending on him and though all he could think about was holding her in his arms and protecting her, he stopped in his tracks. Y/N, trailing behind him like a lost puppy, bumped into his back and blinked profusely, looking down at his hand that was flailing around, seeming to be looking for hers. Confused, she clasped her hand with his and she watched the way their fingers intertwined and allowed the warmth of the gesture to seep in. But before she could relish the moment, he had tugged his arm forward with enough force that made Y/N stumble in front of him.

She was no longer hiding behind his frame. Her eyes were directly in line with the six boys she was about to meet and from the distance she stood in, it seemed as though they were staring back at her.

She gulped.

Looking over her shoulder, she found Jake staring back at her with an encouraging grin and sparkling eyes covered by his floppy hair. With a nod toward his friends, he willed her to walk forward and she did. With her hands balled into fists, she took the first few steps, legs shaking at first but the more she walked without his aid, the faster her shoulders straightened and her tread turned confident. Though Jake could only see her back, he could easily tell she probably had a sly smirk playing on her lips with the way her hips started swaying. It was almost like she was slipping on a mask, one made entirely out of confidence, charm and perhaps even a little wit- the same mask Jake had watched her sport multitudes of times when they were both attending gatherings together or were invited to some launch party. But he could confidently say that the piercing eyes of hers he fell in love with were never a sham.

His steps slowed as his chest began filling with pride. His eyes glossed over as he watched Y/N approach his friends, her hair bouncing off her shoulders and arm stretching forward to shake hands with Heeseung first, then Jungwon and the rest of the boys. This would be the first time that Jake saw Y/N approach someone, rather than someone else approaching her.

Ruffling Y/N’s hair was the first thing he did when he finally approached the group. He could almost hear her heartbeat, louder than the gallops of a thousand horses, but then he saw the smile on her face and the way she was talking aloud with his friends and with him and he was convinced that she was filled with adrenaline. And he thought it was good. It was good because she was learning to love new experiences and she was learning to meet new people.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Sunghoon said as Jake hoisted himself to sit beside him. Y/N was left standing, looking up at the seven boys sitting together and the sight deemed complete with Jake among them. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

Not a single part of her was surprised that Jake had spoken about her to his friends but she never questioned what it was that he said about her. She never wondered if he told them what they did together or spoke about and she was always confident that he wouldn’t just expose to them all the panic attacks and hysterical cries she’s had in front of him.

It was Jake and she trusted him.

Yet for the sake of conversation, she simply had to ask “What exactly does he say about me?”

There was a sharp silence that followed her question. Jake froze in his stance, his eyes darting from her to his friends in panic and Sunghoon pulled his lip between his teeth. Y/N was on the verge of panic, already feeling her legs tremble and hands quiver, convinced that she had ruined the day and that the following conversations and little time for bonding would become botched and robotic. As her eyes scanned the faces of each boy, wondering what everyone was thinking, she heard a snort from Riki, his lips fighting to stretch into a smile and his laughter beating its way out of his throat.

Sunoo’s smile followed next, though he didn’t find the need to hide it. He laughed freely, leaning forward as he clapped his hands and eased everyone's expressions. Y/N swore she saw everyone let out a relieved sigh. “You don’t have to worry,” the pink-haired boy giggled, holding his palms together in front of him. “He always just boasts about you and brags about how you're his new best friend,” it was obvious that he was trying to mimic the way Jake spoke and his lack of accuracy made Jay sneer.

“Oh, please,” Jay chuckled. “I’ve never heard Jake say he’s made a new friend so the second all of us found out, we started yelling and screaming and begged to meet you.”

With the few words Jay spoke, Y/N was able to figure out his mellow nature. He was laid back, silent while he was thinking and when he found the need to express his thoughts, they came out calm and organised. Throughout the fifteen minutes she was with them, he had his palms pressing flat behind him, his body leaning into his arms in a relaxed manner and his attention was fixated on the surroundings around him rather than the people he was with, but he was listening intently regardless.

“You guys make it a bigger deal than it is,” Jake waved his hand with a whine, his cheeks turning a shade of red with all the blood rushing to his face. His body leaned sideways in an attempt to hear everyone better, torso pressing into Sunghoon’s shoulder.

Jake seemed more fond of Sunghoon, Y/N realised. With every joke that was made, the pair would always look at each other first before laughing and they would usually glance at each other before speaking. While Heeseung told the story of how they all met, she learned that Jake and Sunghoon were the first among them to meet and become close. How the rest of them became friends and grew a bond strong enough to last so many years was beyond them but it was so clear how much they cared for each other. She saw it in the way Riki gave Sunoo his jacket when it got chilly and she saw it in the way Jay allowed Jungwon to lean his head on his shoulder when he got tired. She saw it in the way Heeseung offered Sunghon water when he simply cleared his throat and she saw it in the way Jake kept glancing at Riki to see if the boy was comfortable.

Y/N was brought to a state of melancholy as she watched these boys interact. Though she was happy that they had each other in this barren world, she wondered why she never found friends like that for herself.

What was she lacking? What was she doing wrong? She thought about that a lot.

“I have to ask,” she started as Jungwon finished telling his story of how he convinced his grandparents to enrol him into taekwondo classes. “You all have such different lives and interests that all seemed to have started in places other than New York,” her gaze immediately shifted to Jake. “How did all seven of you end up here?” her fingers pointed to the ground, the stress in her voice indicated the city they were all on.

Looking over their shoulders, Y/N could see a few boats tied to the docks of the lake, tinges of marigold and lavender hovering in the corners of the sky. The sun was setting and a majority of the kids that showed up at the park started leaving. There was this moment of tranquillity as dried-up leaves breezed past them and suddenly, all she could think about was New York City and its huge complexity, a city of diverse culture and fashion. Anybody would be lucky to live there and she wondered if she was asking the right questions.

“That’s a good question,” Jungwon thought aloud, subsiding Y/N’s doubts. “All of us ended up here because of Heeseung,” he stated as a matter of factly and he pointed towards the oldest.

Heeseung put on a dopey, almost embarrassed, smile as he scratched the nape of his neck and nodded. “Yeah, that’s true,” he agreed. “It was a huge process but I’m glad that at least everyone settled in just fine.”

Then each of the boys continued explaining their version of the story. They told her how Heeseung first sprung the idea when he got into New York University and didn’t want to leave everyone behind. He said that there was no way he would ever thrive at university without his best friends, his family, alongside him and he spent months convincing everyone’s families to let their children move across the seven oceans with him.

Riki and Jungwon had no other choice but to live with Heeseung because they were both minors and Heeseung was the oldest and automatically the most responsible. And because Sunoo and Riki were inseparable, he was thrown into the mix and currently, the four lived in a three-bedroom apartment that was convenient for them to go to their respective schools. Y/N could only imagine how much chaos their mornings would be filled with- four boys getting ready for school and every other errand. But the more she imagined it, the more she thought it was wholesome and heart-warming and the more she wished she had friends to move in with as well.

She learned that initially, Jay, Sunghoon and Jake were living together. The three lived in peace, Jay minding his own business in his room while he dealt with his part in running his dad’s company or leaving for college whenever he could. Sunghoon would leave every day to train for ice-skating and return by the night after he was done with community college. Jake’s schedule was the most flexible in the beginning, before his modelling career bloomed and when all he had to worry about was sending his portfolio and resume to various managers. He only moved out to the more bustling and lavish side of New York when he was deemed successful.

Over time, everyone, despite living together, started having lives of their own and sometimes, some wouldn’t show their faces at home for days on end. But none of that was ever an issue and they never drifted because at the end of the day, they were all family and they grew up together. They all grew to love moments like these where they’d find themselves sitting together and basking under a sunset and salty breeze while laughing.

Rare moments were easier to cherish.

“Jay’s dad helped us through the moving process a lot,” Sunghoon nodded, weaving his fingers together on his lap. “We had to live in a hotel for a few months before finding apartments of our own. It was still fun though.”

“You know,” Jungwon started with a laugh, thumb pointing towards Riki. “His parents were too scared to let him shift with all of us so Heeseung and Jay stayed up all night making a PowerPoint presentation to convince them.”

Y/N gaped. “Did it work?”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” Riki grinned proudly, brows wiggling as everyone else laughed at the memory.

Their lives seemed like an unconventional fairytale found in the unrealistic fantasies Y/N would sometimes make herself. She once dreamed about moving to Italy with her one true love and living in a cottage and selling fresh fruits and flowers their whole lives. She dreamed that their daily chores would consist of doing everything together and always ending their nights with homemade wine and cheese. She dreamed that it would just be her and her lover, alone and content with just each other's company because the rest of the world would be irrelevant. That was a dream, her dream, her childish dream.

These boys had a dream of their own- to move to New York City together and build independent lives, all the while enjoying each other's unchanging and unwavering company. They made it work. Luck was in their hands and all the stars aligned for them and here they were, living what she considered to be the teenage dream. She wondered what that must have felt like.

Y/N fell silent the rest of the time she spent with them, not because she was glum but rather because of a growing sense of comfort. The feather-like smile on her lips never left as she found herself sitting beside Jake, her cheek pressing into his shoulder while she listened to the boys talk and banter amongst themselves. She didn’t feel out of place and nor did she feel like she had to contribute to the conversation to feel wanted. At that moment, it was just her and them, two different worlds colliding.

Jake deemed it to be late once strokes of navy brushed the sky, the moon visible if he squinted his eyes just a little bit. A steady breeze ruffled their hair and sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. With the goosebumps protruding from her skin, she shuddered, hugging herself and grinning as Jake announced that it was time for everyone to go home but it was Riki that stopped them, whining about something not being fair and how he wanted to spend more time with everyone.

In a fleeting moment, as though a lightbulb appeared above her head, Y/N piped “should we all go for dinner together?” and Riki nodded enthusiastically with the brightest smile she had ever seen. It was enough to light up the entire park they were in. Jake, who stood beside her with a hand on her back, looked down at her with a smile, admiring eyes gleaming at the sight of her and her sudden enthusiasm.

Jake wished she would stay enthusiastic for the rest of their lives, believing that what he saw in front of him was her truest form, where she was laughing and joking around with everyone, answering questions about herself freely without fear or hesitation. Bliss was radiating off of her and if they were in a world of animation, he knew rays of sunshine would be protruding out of her body. He wondered if after today, the happiness and carefree nature she showed would stay and he wondered if she would feel juvenile enough to hold his arm and bounce up and down again like she was doing now, watching Riki pump his fists in the air and run towards his respective car with the same enthusiasm.

“Let’s go!” The boy hollered and everyone else followed.

The group found themselves sitting at a round table in a hotpot restaurant known as HaiDiLao that seemed to have been blowing up on TikTok recently. When Y/N suggested the place, Jake chuckled at her, knowing that she had taken this opportunity to finally satisfy her long-lasting craving for Asian cuisine. As they sat and waited around for their food, steady conversation flowing between them like before, Y/N grew to realise that Riki was much like her. He was naturally quiet, laughing within himself when someone made a measly joke and speaking his opinions softly. He only showed excitement in rare moments, making fun of his peers only when he found the perfect moment to. The boy was extremely independent, she learned when he spoke about his school life. He only had one friend outside of the group he was in, the rest of his classmates irrelevant to his conscience and he seemed to be more focused on his goals. An aspiring dancer he was, his talents being compared to Micheal Jackson by his coaches and teachers.

Jungwon showed her videos of Riki dancing and Sunghoon gliding on ice. She thought the two boys had many similarities, too. Both focused on their goals and both preferred to stay silent even around their best friends. She couldn’t tell if it was because they had nothing to say or if it were simply because they were shy, but their occasional jokes and accusations for comedic purpose told her that they were simply being themselves.

If she thought about it, most of the boys were similar but it was each other that brought out their chaotic and adolescent sides. Heeseung, the great musician studying to be a producer, was always laughed at about his food habits. Jungwon, who seemed to be the peacemaker of the group, had a way of raising Sunghoon and Jake’s brows with his bizarre statements. And Sunoo, aspiring to become the owner of a skincare brand someday, was the ray of sunshine that brought the group out of their pessimistic reflections. Jay liked to make fun of him a lot, she realised in between dipping her mutton into boiling broth and chewing on enoki mushrooms.

They were all like seven peas in a pod and Y/N was just there observing, hoping that someday, she would have close friendships of her own. She gazed at Jake, the ache in her heart easing when he looked back at her with a beaming smile and lovingly observant eyes.

Jake drove her home that night, a playlist of classical music playing in the background as light rain drizzled onto the windows. The street lights blurred, causing a bokeh effect and she felt the skid of the tires every time Jake drove into a puddle. It was a good day, she thought and she wished that the night didn’t have to end. She wished she could stay in the hotpot restaurant for the rest of her life and listen to the many life stories the group of seven boys had to offer. Because while she was with them, she could forget about the miserable aspects of her life and delve into this world of fantasy they created for themselves and maybe, just maybe, she would become part of it.

“Will I ever get to meet your friends?”

The car came to a screeching halt and Y/N’s apartment building came into view. A lone lamplight hung on its gate and she realised her parents must have been awaiting her return. The time read 11:07 pm and the music had been drowned by crashing rain. Tilting her head towards Jake, she saw his droopy eyes and a smile groggily maintained. He was sleepy and driving in the rain at such a late hour would be the worst idea so she thought of inviting him into her house for probably the millionth time in the past few months and letting him sleep over for the first time. She was sure her parents wouldn’t mind, they’ve seen the boy around enough to trust him around her and they’ve seen just how attentive he was towards her.

She decided she would answer his question first.

“I don’t think I want you to meet my friends.”

Jake’s heart dropped. In the span of a second, his thoughts wandered into replaying all the events of the night and finding where things went south and what caused Y/N to suddenly change her mind. Just a week ago, she was hell-bent on introducing him to her friends and she was adamant about him bonding with them because it was important for her. Now she was hesitant, almost cringing at the thought of letting her work-best-friend meet the people she clung to at school.

“Why?” Jake stuttered out, his cheeks flushing paler and sleep rinsing out of his system.

“I’m scared,” she sighed and his brows furrowed.

“Of what?”

“I’m scared I’ll lose you.”

Though he heard the quiver in her voice, he was confused about how she reached that conclusion. Every step he took forward on getting to know her, it was moments like these that took him three steps back. He thought he understood the way her mind worked and thoughts panned out and if he didn’t, Y/N would try her best to help him understand. At the end of the day, it was her fear and insecurities that panned her judgement on any situation.

“How will you lose me?”

“Because they’re all better people than me, they’re so much more interesting than I could ever be,” her hands moved animatedly as she explained, stray strands of hair covering the sides of her face. “What if you realise I’m boring and leave me for one of them.”

Y/N had spoken about her friends a lot. She told him about Sheila that had a meme or vine reference to throw for every conversation and Veronica, who was on her way to intern for NASA. She told him about Arnold, who was a master with stocks and went to the gym all the time, earning more than her, a model, at the age of seventeen. Then there was Jasper, who aspired to be a doctor and Tina, who seemed to have her life and morals all put together, aiming for some of the best art-history colleges in Europe. She spoke highly of Maya who was always down to Earth, had everyone's respect and was big on photography and fashion. She told him about many more people, all of her descriptions about them ending with, “We aren’t very close.”

She was right, these people she called friends all had their own stories that would peak many people's interests but Jake thought Y/N's life was no less profound or fascinating compared to anyone else's.

From the many stories her parents had indulged him in whenever he went to her house, he learned that she had always been independent in many things. Sure, she craved intimacy and codependency, but once she made a decision, it was final. At the ripe beginnings of her teenage years, she decided to move out of her parents' house to pursue an education in New York and live with her grandparents. To this date, no one understood how she came to this decision but she found herself moving from China to the States when she turned fourteen. She left behind her parents and friends and a country she had lived in for thirteen years to start anew and if she was asked if she regretted her decision, she would respond by saying she never had regrets in her life, not even decisions that lead to the biggest of heartbreaks.

At fifteen, a year after her parents had moved to the States to be with her, Y/N had easily learnt the ropes of moving around town on her own. She’d roam the streets alone, occasionally with a friend or two if she was allowed. She had no problem going places alone or making decisions on her own but when it came to meeting someone new, suddenly she was the most sheepish girl to exist. Her walls were easy to break down but that was a trait of hers she couldn't seem to mend.

At seventeen, when she and Sam had separated, Y/N started making and sending in her portfolios to various modelling agents and she didn't mention it to anyone until she was sure that she had a job secured. Her parents were infuriated by her antics, calling her careless, naive and various other adjectives that could describe a child to be a rotten egg. Her father, a man whose childhood was woven of orthodoxy morals, had spent over a month attempting to put a wall between her and her dreams of showing up on the cover page of a magazine or walking a runway. Her relationship with her parents had diminished until eventually, they came around when she started earning money and could essentially afford her basic needs.

Though her parents wouldn't admit to anyone that they only allowed their daughter to continue thriving in an industry they were so revolted by because of her large success in making money, Y/N was quick to point out that detail to Jake when she had the chance. She didn't feign any resentment towards her parents, but it wasn't as though she had a relationship with them in the first place. Since she was young, she depended on herself or whatever friends she had at the time. Her parents only saw her as a trophy to show off to the rest of the world, to boast about how well they raised her and to display her success via framed pictures and medals over the fireplace. At the end of the day, she knew nothing of them, not even their favourite food.

Jake also came to realise the plethora of people she met throughout her young age, forming connections that would eventually wither away into phone calls once in a blue moon or random texts of 'hi, how you been?' That in itself made him wonder about the amount of knowledge she had in human behaviours and if it were her many experiences with different personalities that planted the seed of curiosity towards psychology and sociology in her.

She seemed to forget small details about herself, details that Jake deemed compelling. Such as the random and exceptional pieces of information she had in marine biology, occasionally indulging him in a lesson on the variety of jellyfish or the phenomenon of deep-sea gigantism. He noticed her love for sharks, especially whale sharks when she mentioned that one of her biggest goals in life was to fly to the Philippines and swim with one of them. Her knack for languages, a skill she acquired from her mother, was the most daunting. It was fascinating to listen as she switched between languages, from English to Chinese to Spanish and then back to English again. On top of that, there were a myriad number of other languages she could understand. It was that dexterity of hers that led Jake to coax her into learning a little bit of Korean. He was also drawn to her love for true crime, especially the gruesome and grotesque details of murders she seemed to always remember to bring up in designated conversations while indulging in her favourite drink- boba tea.

Her love for the drink was almost comical and much too distinct. She’d be appalled if any variation of boba tea was ordered- the original was always preferred; iced milk tea with an extra serving of tapioca pearls that she loved chewing on. Countless amounts of instances included Y/N ranting about the drink- something so simple yet personal to her because it was all she drank while growing up in Shanghai- saying that no tea shop could replicate the delicate flavours of tapioca pearls and chai milk tea other than this particular boba shop she always used to purchase from in China.

“Y/N, you’re not boring,” Jake lulled, his hand instinctively reaching for hers, which were perched between her thighs. “How could you call yourself boring?” the word rolled off his tongue as though it was foreign. Of the many adjectives available in the Cambridge Dictionary, boring would be the last word he’d use to describe the mess of a beauty sitting beside him.

Her hair was now completely covering any view he had of her face and her torso leaned forward. He felt her shudder, her hands shaking as she visibly choked in a sob. No matter how much she tried keeping her emotions straight and harbouring her thoughts in the bay, the buzz in her head caused a single teardrop to escape the rim of her eye and roll off her cheek, falling right onto Jake’s knuckle.

In the past five or so months of Jake getting to know Y/N, the number of times he’d seen her cry could be counted with his fingers. He had always known she was emotional and she had always known that she was sensitive and he knew for a fact that she cried more when she was alone, but never did she allow herself to fully break down in front of Jake and this moment would not count either. It was just a single tear and a few heavy breaths that came out of her, her eyes now bloodshot.

In a second, a day that they thought would have a happy ending, ended in Y/N questioning herself and becoming insecure in her friendship with Jake.

Y/N had always been level-headed. She was the girl most of her friends turned to when they needed advice or consolation of some form and she was always there with her arms wide open, giving them a slice of her love and wisdom- yes, wisdom. That was the only word Jake could gather in his head as he thought about the many times he went to her for some form of advice. It was as though she always knew what to say and what to do and she gave away her guidance in words put in their simplest and most nonchalant form- she made things sound easy. Her way around deciphering other people’s emotions and steering between the angles of the moral compass was something to look up to.

But she could never use that talent of hers for her good.

It was moments like these that reminded Jake that she was truly just a troubled kid who was fighting to stay afloat despite the rocks bound to her feet. No matter how much maturity and independence she showed, she was just a kid, only starting to learn how to manoeuvre the world of an eighteen-year-old. She held so much baggage, all of which she somehow carried by helping others instead of herself- by trying to fix others and give others a safe space instead of giving it to herself. She used that as her coping method again and again, like fixing a broken tape record over and over again until it couldn’t be saved anymore and Y/N had reached that point- a pathetic and plebeian point in her life.

And now there she was, projecting the trauma, fear and insecurities she acquired from a messy break-up onto Jake, someone she could easily call her best friend.

“I am boring,” she stifled her nose, her knee jerking up and down as a way to soothe her nerves. Jake’s hand shifted from her hands to her knee, exerting enough pressure to stop her habit of fidgeting for the time being.

“You’re everything but boring, Y/N,” he insisted again, his grip on the steering wheel tightening enough to make his knuckles turn the shade of a cloud. “You’re everything- I mean, you’re a goddamn model and a goddamn successful one, too. All at the age of eighteen… How could you call yourself boring?”

“I don’t know,” her statement followed another sharply inhaled breath and he started rubbing circles over her knee with his thumb. “Everyone in my life leaves at a point and so will you,” tucking her hair behind her ears, she focused her gaze on Jake’s hand and the way it covered the entire span of her knee and a little bit of her thigh. Small splatters of red painted his knuckles and she wasn’t sure how he trophied them but somehow, it gave his hands somewhat of a character. Her attempt to distract herself, though, didn’t work.

“I’m not gonna leave you,” he breathed and Y/N pulled her lip between her teeth, eyes darting from what she was previously concentrating on and the innocent yet sincere look on his face.

She didn’t respond to him, letting deja vu wash over her like a bittersweet memory that she would rather be carried away by the tides. Everyone says that, she thought, literally everyone. She could only offer him a blank stare, eyes looking past his shoulder and at the lack of traffic on the roads. In that week, it would be the first time she let herself think of Sam again and her memories with him played in her mind the way home movies played. They were filled with nostalgia, moments she knew would never come back to her because not only was she out of his life, but out of his mind as well. His contact number had disappeared in a sea of other texts and phone numbers and the last time either of them had tried contacting each other was almost a year ago.

It had been a year, and he still had a hold on her emotions.

Jake waited for a response from her but it was the lack of emotion in her eyes and absence of expression on her lips that made him realise. “You’re thinking of Sam, aren’t you?"

With a prompt nod, sadness and grief made their way into the irises of her eyes and her lips quivered downwards into a frown. He promised her many things, all of which were broken but the last thing she expected him to do was completely excuse himself from her life. The thought was so repetitive; it was exasperating.

Jake knew, verbatim, all the false reassurance Sam had given her over the months of their dating.

“I mean it, though” the promise in his voice almost made the frown on her face disappear. “Y/N, I know you’re scared. But please believe me… I’m not gonna leave you. You’re my best friend.”

At that, Y/N lifted her head, eyes widening and mouth gaping. “I am?” She questioned, almost sceptical of his statement despite the way he was eagerly nodding. Her mind wandered to Sunghoon, recalling the way Jake interacted with him and remembering the way he always spoke so highly of him, telling her that he had always been the person he went to for every minuscule problem in his life.

She wanted to question it but decided she had not enough energy to do so.

“You are. Just as I am yours, I promise.”

A part of her wanted to scream at the top of her lungs and rip her hair apart because Sam used to say the same thing to her. Just believe me, just trust me and you’ll be happy- she wished she could erase the memories of her somehow and do justice to the words Jake was uttering to her with so much candour and probity. If it weren’t for the cold of the night digging itself into the depths of her heart, his words would have sparked a campfire to thaw her downcast.

“I don’t know how to make you believe me, but please,” he affirmed. “You don’t need to be scared of losing me. I know Sam said the same shit but please believe me.”

Another moment of silence passed and it was when Y/N cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders that he realised that she was accepting his words. She nodded steadily, forcing her lips into a straight line as she gazed at him through her lashes, his hand sneaking its way back towards hers.

“Do you still not want me to meet your friends?”

A wet laugh escaped from her lips, her eyes softly closing shut as her solemn chuckles filled the heavy air inside the car. Jake smiled with her, the glint in his eyes returning as soon as her mood lifted.

“I’ll introduce them to you on graduation day.”

MUSIC WAS THE GREATEST invention on Earth, according to Y/N. Regardless of whether it was blasting in speakers or flowing between earphones, she could allow herself to drown in the world of wistful vocals and calculated melodies. It was mainly music that aided her through her depressive and suicidal episodes and it was music that caressed her emotions as she fought to bring all the pieces of her personality together. She found that singing along to the songs she found most catchy and listening to them in the car with her friends- moments which only occurred once in a blue moon with her- was the most entertaining. And she also found that listening to orchestral music while studying, walking alone in public or on those rare times she had to take the New York Subway made her feel as though she were in another world, completely separated from everyone else’s opinions and judgements. It was the ultimate form of distraction.

As she sat somewhere in a crowd of students, some classmates of hers she couldn’t even recognise or name, it was the pop music playlist that Maya played through the speakers of the auditorium field that calmed her nerves and distracted her from everyone’s judgement. Though the songs didn’t quite match what a normal graduation ceremony was expected to entail, they brought hearty smiles to everyone’s faces and Y/N sang along with animated hand gestures along with Sheila. People were staring, eyeing their antics as if they were crazy but for the first time in a long time, Y/N didn’t care. It was the last day of school and the thought of everyone worrying about college while she, on the other hand, would delve deeper into her modelling career brought her pride and boosted her ego.

In the row in front of her sat Sam, his dark curls struggling to stay hidden under his graduation cap. The smile on his face brought a sickening churn to her stomach but it left as soon as her gaze landed on his best friend, sitting beside him and commenting on how boring the decorations were and how the entire event would have panned out much better if he and Sam planned it. Sam nodded enthusiastically at him, his cap almost falling off his head. Y/N rolled her eyes at the interaction that seemed all too familiar; all too predictable.

Her family was seated somewhere in the back amongst the other parents and family members that were attending. Jake sat with them, a camera in his hands ready to capture the moment Y/N would appear on stage, accepting her graduation certificate and shaking hands with the principal. Hues of purple and blue decorated the stage, the school principal- whom Y/N spoke concerningly low of- holding a mic and slowly speaking out a speech of gratitude towards the students, staff and education system, briefly speaking of how proud she was of her students.

Y/N fixed the ends of her graduation gown, its material matching the colours of the decorative balloons, streamers and banners. A wave of nostalgia washed over her as her eyes scanned the premises, vast four walls seemingly pulling closer and closer by the minute and she knew that this would be the last time she would ever sit in the auditorium. It would be the last time she would sit in the same room as the rest of her classmates and it would be the last time she saw the face of her insufferable principal. She remembered all the memories she made there- the shit-show of a performance her drama club put on for Shakespeare’s As You Like It, the many games of tag she played with her friends, the limited number of badminton games she played with Sam and the gut-wrenching exam papers she wrote in this very auditorium. She would never relive those memories again, all of them confined in the walls of this school- the same walls other students would make their own memories and history within. It was all too daunting at that moment but her attention was peeled away as the student body president was called on stage to give his speech.

The next few hours played out like a montage, each student walking up the stage and accepting their certificates with toothy smiles that couldn’t be differentiated between genuine and fake. Amongst the many waves of emotions- happiness, grief, excitement, nostalgia, dread, and so much more- pop music was replaced by an orchestra of violin and harp melodies. Flower petals of pink, white and purple were thrown in the air, followed by their graduation caps as their hollers reached a crescendo. Everyone was taking pictures, some with their friend groups and others in front of the huge banner that read CONGRATULATIONS CLASS OF 22’ and Y/N found herself amongst her classmates, hugging everyone and exchanging goodbyes. She wondered if they were genuine when they asked her to stay in touch and she wondered if they meant when they said they would miss her- because she knew she would put everyone she knew from high school behind and never look back. She knew whatever promises she made wouldn’t be kept and she assumed the same went for everyone else.

It was announced that the parents and students were expected to escort themselves to the football field and Y/N pushed her way through the crowd until she saw her parents, greeting them with a wide smile. She waved her rolled-up certificate above her head, almost as if she were saying look, I barely studied and graduated high school with flying colours! It was the same expression a boy would have while swinging on a swing and saying look mom, I can fly and it was the same expression a girl would have while dressing up and saying daddy, I look like a princess. Jake hugged her, whispering in her ear about how proud he was. He showed her the pictures he took of her while walking to the field, gripping the averagely-sized Canon camera her family had been using since she could remember, one that they bought while they were still in China.

There were designated round tables laid out around the field; Y/N and her family were quick to find their seats. As discussions about her future flowed through them, all Y/N could think about was that she would finally be free of exams and textbooks for a few more months, and maybe years until she decides to go to college.

“What do you plan on studying if you do end up going to college, then?” Her mother asked, intently looking at her daughter.

“Probably psychology,” Y/N nodded, the smile that entered her lips as she accepted her high school diploma never leaving.

Her parents didn’t know when the last time it was that they saw her smiling for such an extended period of time. They wondered if it was because she was proud of herself for doing so well in high school, garnering more recommendation letters than most students and scoring well in her final exams all the while juggling her squeaky-clean modelling career. From the outside, it looked like success was handed to her on a silver plate and a huge part of Y/N thought the same. There were students that were jealous of her and students that insisted that her recommendation letters were only written for her because she was famous- which, in all honesty, could have been true. But perhaps, that day, Jake was the only one that knew her happiness stemmed from the fact that she would never have to step foot into this school again and she would never have to see the faces of those who wronged her.

“Isn’t it better to study something worthwhile?” Her father offered. “Perhaps MBA?”

“Who said psychology wasn’t worthwhile?” Y/N let out an animated gasp, widening her eyes out of a sheer necessity to make a joke and her mother and Jake laughed.

Jake patted her back, fingers lingering on the smooth fabric of her graduation gown. “Whatever it is, it’s better to go to college in case you decide not to pursue modelling anymore.” His gaze lingered on her smile for a few minutes, strands of his hair falling onto his forehead and touching his lashes.

He had a point. Y/N's goal was never to come to the status she was at, thinking that modelling for local clothes shops or irrelevant runways would be enough. But in the past few months, she’d been showing up on the covers of famous magazines and Tony was telling her how she could be potentially booked for the next runway show displaying the upcoming designs of Supriya Lele, a designer whom tabloids described as bold and vibrant, mixing her heritage of Indian fashion with the modern preference. If there was one thing Y/N knew about herself, it was that her interests spanned, varied and changed throughout her life. When she was young, her dream was to become a geologist, fascinated by the world of minerals and precious stones she saw her mother wear on her neck and ears. Now, at eighteen, though she had confirmed that she would pursue psychology if she ever went to college, she also knew that pieces of her wanted to dwell deeper into the oceans of knowledge marine biology could offer her or the talents of what a major in English could epitomise in her. Who was to say that she wouldn’t lose interest in modelling?

“I promised I’d introduce you to my friends, didn’t I?” Y/N glanced towards Jake, voice deafening into a whisper as her parents drawled into their own conversation. Jake nodded with a little amount of glee, allowing her to clasp his hand and drag him away to various different tables.

The next half hour or so was filled with greetings and small talk and awkward confrontations from her friends. Jake found that there was a formula to introducing himself to each and every one of your friends. It would always start with a handshake and exaggerated smiles from both parties, followed by Y/N telling them his name and this is the guy I told you about. Then followed the basic questions of his age and where he was from and admiring his Korean heritage, some even being dumb enough to ask him if he knew any kpop stars personally. He had to fight off the urge to play tricks and make jokes and say “Oh yeah, I’m quite close with Stray Kids’ Hyunjin and BTS’ Taehyung.” Some even asked him to speak in Korean. Once Y/N felt that the conversation was fizzling away, she would drag him away to the next friend and hope that the exchange would be more engaging than the last.

It was like speed dating- but worse.

There were a few things Jake learned in between meeting her friends and subtly getting to know them. One was that apart from Sheila, no one else knew much about Y/N- not what she did on a daily basis, her interests or what was going on in her life, excluding what the media had to offer about her career. She knew more about them than vice versa. He learned that she only allowed people to see what she wanted them to see, everything tucked away under layers and layers of what could only be called distractions to what really comprised her. The second was that to whoever she guided him to, she would always avoid walking past Sam, always sucking in a breath when she did come too close to him or caught sight of him from the corner of her eye. But her smile never faltered and her voice never wavered as she continued speaking and willing herself to look in any direction but towards her ex. The third was that he didn’t see Y/N wearing that mask of hers, the one which caused her to walk so confidently and her eyes to be judgemental. Instead, on school grounds, amongst people that partially watched her grow up, she was almost childlike, her strut juvenile as it had a bounce to it and her laugh ringing louder than a school bell while she stood with those she claimed she trusted most.

Y/N dragged him towards Veronica, promising that she was the last person he had to meet and he followed her with a sigh. Veronica was headstrong, sass displayed in her mannerisms and body language and it paired with her innocent smiles and profound facial expressions, she could either be described as dangerous or laughable. Jake had asked what her plans were after graduation and though he already knew the answer through Y/N, he still listened to her blabber about NASA and her dilemma of choosing between two prestigious colleges.

“My parents think I should go to Cornell but I prefer…”

Her voice blew away with the passing wind, gaze focusing past Y/N’s shoulder with a slightly gaped mouth and quivering lips, but her expression straightened faster than it had faltered. The air visibly shifted as the group of three acknowledged Sam walking towards them, lips pursed in a thin line while waving his hand in the air. Y/N stiffened her arms, hands balling into fists as she sucked in a breath and forced out a smile and Veronica happily greeted him. The boy's steps were cautious, looking between Veronica, Y/N and Jake as he approached them. Jake followed every step he took, eyes sharpening and jaw clenching with a sudden surge of wrath.

The way Y/N shuffled closer to Jake didn’t go unnoticed by anyone and it was her fingers brushing over his bicep that made him take a deep breath and unclench his jaw, keeping his anger in control but God forbid Sam said or made her feel dolorous- the day wouldn’t end well.

“What’s up, guys?” Sam grinned forcibly, his hand resting on the table as he turned towards Veronica. “You’re coming for dinner with us later, right?”

Veronica nodded, shifting her head towards Y/N almost in a panicked manner. “Are you-”

“Arnold told me I could join, but I’d rather not,” Y/N grit her teeth, eyes boring a hole into Veronica and she almost flinched back, coaxing an expression of discomfort.

“Why?” Veronica cocked her head.

“Rather celebrate with Jake.”

“Who?” Sam’s brows pulled together, his gaze finally falling on Y/N. He looked her up and down, almost as though he was judging her in some way. Then, he looked at Jake, his expression contorting into realisation. His brows raised and said, “Oh, you’re Jake?” In an almost excited manner before stretching his hand in front of himself.

Jake didn’t reciprocate, moving to cross his arms instead and continue glaring at the boy, wondering what it was about him that made Y/N fall head over heels for him; what it was that caused such immense attachment with someone that only had to offer an attitude and arrogance. He didn’t seem to have an ounce of consideration within him, emitting only narcissism and self-gratification about him. Perhaps there was a time when he treated Y/N as though she was the most important thing in the world, but what could guarantee the authenticity of his actions? Especially knowing that he managed to get into another relationship within two weeks of their breakup, there was no way Jake would believe that the boy with curly hair and careless eyes that stood in front of him could take care of Y/N the way he did.

“Okay,” Sam trailed off, retrieving his arm and clasping his hands together to wave off the tension building amongst them. “What plans do you have then?” His gaze returned to Y/N, or rather, his gaze hovered amongst the surroundings around her but his voice was directed to her regardless.

Before Y/N even had a chance to put the words and letters in her head to form a response, Jake had already let out a scoff, glaring daggers in Sam’s direction. “It’s none of your business,” he seethed and everyone standing around the tables snapped their heads towards him in shock.

In all the months Y/N had spent time with Jake, this would be the first time she understood what the media and tabloids meant when they reported lowly on his personality. She realised what they recognised as attitude was, in reality, anger and she realised that he would rather be compliant to those that showed interest in him rather than expect a personal gain out of him for themselves. Speaking with reporters and paparazzi would bring out the worst in him, yet he was the most respectful and well-raised man around the people he worked alongside- the photographers, designers and many other models he worked with all had nothing but compliments to shower over his personality. She understood why different groups of people had different opinions and judgements concerning him.

“Dude, I was just trying to be nice,” Sam’s hands raised in defence, taking a step back as he tittered. His head tilted to the side, eyes widening as he saw him taking a step forward. Y/N did nothing to stop him, holding herself back and biting her lips, watching as if she wanted a scene to unfold.

“Don’t you think it’s a little too late for that?”

If it weren’t for Veronica’s cough and warning of teachers watching, perhaps Jake would have held Sam by his collar and punched his jaw. The girl waved him off, nudging his shoulder and pushing him back, almost begging him to go away before all the parents got themselves involved. The three students could almost sense the watchful eyes of their principal and counsellor and with the fear of getting in trouble on graduation day, especially when his parents were on school grounds, Sam walked away. His strides slow with his head hanging down, he made his way towards a group of few boys and girls sitting on the bleachers, phones raised in the air as they took pictures. It had always been a trait of his, to be scared of getting into trouble with the teachers. It was that very trait of his that had nettled Y/N to her bones, wondering why he cared so much because she, as a girl with parents that were stricter than most, couldn’t give much thought to them.

Veronica had excused herself, jogging towards the same group Sam found himself sitting in between. Y/N tugged at the sleeve of Jake’s shirt, wary eyes scanning over his face- his face that still housed an expression of fury and indignation. “We should go back to our table,” he heard her say and through his fit of white rage, he nodded and stomped to where her parents were.

“You were never part of that friend group?” Jake nodded towards where Veronica and Sam were, eyeing their group’s antics and deeming them as annoying only within a few seconds.

“Nope,” Y/N shook her head, pursing her lips as she looped her arm with his.

“They seem cringe,” he offered her a grin, lips tugging upwards ever so slightly as the anger in him slowly diminished at the sight of her smiling back at him. “Not worth it.”

“Agreed.”

Sheila left her parents and brothers at her table, bolting towards Y/N as though she had just been attacked. Even with the solemn smile Y/N assured her with, she still refused to leave her side and stayed chit-chatting with her for the rest of the ceremony, leaving Jake to converse with her parents. The fleeting incident of rage was forgotten, as far as Y/N was concerned. For a little while, just for a little while, she could enjoy the moment; a glass of watermelon juice in her hand, a nostalgic conversation shared with her best friend, the late summer breeze wafting the scent of freshly cut grass towards them as their graduation gowns blew with the wind, their hair tangling up. They were probably some of the last few people left on the field. People were already starting to clean the premises of discarded debris and the afternoon lurked closer with the decreasing temperature.

“Can we get something to eat?” Sheila asked, shielding the sun from her face with a hand over her head. “People are leaving now anyway.”

Y/N and Sheila found themselves peeking out of the sunroof of Jake”s car, their arms thrusting in the air in triumph and wind blowing their hair into a mess, screaming words of joy. Jake was driving towards a destination Sheila had requested. Take me to one of the restaurants the paparazzi always catch you at, and with a chuckle from the other two, they were off. This led to an afternoon of peace- which seemed to be what Jake, or anyone, felt under the shade of Y/N’s company- while sitting at a corner booth of an Italian restaurant that the pair had visited more than a couple of times and Sheila was thrilled.

Y/N and Jake discovered the restaurant on a night with stormy weather and were too tired to keep driving after a day spent at the gym and practising walking a runway. With the unfortunate luck of not having an umbrella, Jake held up his grey trench coat to cover their heads and ran across the street before they were drenched enough to catch any sickness. In front of them stood the cosy Italian cuisine restaurant which could easily be mistaken for a bar. It had empty bottles of beer strung with fairy lights across its roof and sets of white chairs and tables lining the ins and out of its small dimensions, a huge masonry oven greeting every customer as they walked it. The pair deemed the eatery as one of New York City’s many hidden gems and they were sure Sheila would feel the same once she tasted their Tortellini.

The afternoon consisted of the two girls taking many pictures while Jake joked about them, Sheila moaning about how sumptuous the food tasted, sharing jokes and riddles than made their stomachs clench with laughter and discussions on the many anecdotes and incidents that would go down in their high school’s history. Y/N and Sheila had sat there and broke down how and why their school was both the most magical yet hysterical and deplorable and it was a speech Jake had heard from Y/N many times but as she explained it with her best friend, he could almost see the auras of stress and hatred she held seeping out of her.

In that hour, he heard the stories of how the two girls became friends and how they drifted from people they thought would be in their lives forever. They told him about how there was once a time when their lives in school were so lively that they documented their days in books and how those interludes turned into a living hell. Yet, what made Jake happy was that at least they had each other to lean on, a familiar face to look for amongst a crown of inevitable strangers.

“You know, before this bitch become a hotshot model, we planned on going to the same university and everything,” Sheila wrapped her arms around Y/N’s shoulders and pulled her towards her until their cheeks touched.

Y/N’s smile turned into a toothy grin, her nose scrunching under Jake’s surprised gaze. This was surely something she hadn’t mentioned before and he wondered if wanting to know someone down to the atoms of their existence was even possible. No, he wasn’t mad, nor was he unhappy that there was such a mundane piece of information about her that he didn’t know of, but he wondered just how many plans she made in her life that could never fall through- how many plans in his life that never fell through. He supposed that was what life could be defined as; the things that were and the things that could have been; dreams, hopes and expectations crushed by reality from diamond to dust.

But was the dust really that bad? He ended up becoming a model, after all, one of the best up-and-coming models. Somewhere along the process, he met Y/N and in his opinion, there wasn’t much else he could ask for apart from hoping that whatever it was that he felt for her, she felt the same way. He was hoping she would reciprocate the longing stares and hope-filled compliments and he was hoping that someday, she would feel the warmth and serenity he felt around her. As he looked at her from across the table, his fork raised to fill his mouth with another piece of pasta, Y/N was holding her phone and leaning into Sheila’s side, laughing about some meme they could relate to and in that moment, he thought he could ask for nothing more than her hand for the rest of his life.

“It’s getting late, aren’t you supposed to be home soon?” Y/N piped, licking the white sauce of her carbonara off her lips and holding Sheila’s hand tighter, almost afraid to let go. But she would never say it out loud, willing herself to let another good day come to an end.

Sheila nodded, offering Y/N a hesitant smile. “Can’t we just stay for a little longer?” She whined.

Y/N chuckled, assuming that Sheila felt the same as she did at that moment. “You’re acting like we’re never gonna see each other again.”

“Who knows when we’re gonna meet again!”

“Your university isn’t that far away. We can literally meet up whenever we want.”

With the assurance and final hugs of we’re not in high school anymore, they dropped Sheila off at her house.

Y/N would spend the night at Jake’s apartment as an extended celebration of her graduation. Sunghoon and Jay showed up, regretful of the fact that they came bearing excuses from those who couldn’t arrive. Heeseung had an exam to prepare for, so risking a night drinking wouldn’t be responsible for him. Sunoo was in the middle of writing his college exams, so with all the stress piling on his shoulders all day, he started passing out early and having longer nights of sleep- which sounded like heaven to them. Riki and Jungwon were on a school field trip to Boston to venture and explore the many museums and art galleries it housed- it was a humanities trip.

Jay brought Y/N a gift of a fancy bottle of wine, one from the eighties that he had taken from his dad’s wine cellar. Sunghoon had supplied an almost unlimited supply of cans of beer and it was on those that he, Jay and Jake indulged in and Y/N refused to drink alcohol before she hit legal age.

It rained that night, a soft drizzle of rain turning into droplets of water hitting the vast windows of Jake’s apartment as thunder started rumbling. The entire balcony was soaked, as was the growing plant of Devil’s Ivy- Y/N had forced him to buy it around two weeks ago, insisting that he start a collection of plants on his balcony and the Devil’s Ivy would be the first addition. He would let her pick the next plant to buy and the one after that and the one after that because something about seeing her decorating his apartment brought immense pleasure to him.

The four of them played various board games that night; Snakes and Ladders, Pictionary and even Monopoly. At one point, they were caught up in a screaming match while arguing about the rules of UNO which slowly transitioned into a messy game of dumb charades. Somewhere between Jake drawing a terrible rendition of a wolf in a tutu and sometime past midnight, Sunghoon had gotten shamelessly drunk and Jake had gotten tipsy, but he quickly sobered up with a single cup of coffee. Y/N and Jay were left to take care of Sunghoon while Jake lay beside him in bed, a massive headache eating away at his skull and banging against his temples.

Y/N knew Sunghoon as the quiet, shy and skittish boy everyone would admire from afar and his habit of drinking wasn’t exactly a surprise but seeing him laid in bed, pushing and kicking his blanket away while babbling incoherent strings of words brought out a whole new perspective of him. It was an endless cycle of Jay covering his frame with a blanket, only for it to be flung off his body and Y/N was trying to talk the boy down with words that, in the end, meant nothing. Sunghoon blabbered about how his love life was so dry lately and how none of his relationships could last, even those that seemed perfect with women that he thought would be the love of his life. Though normally, it was a sight Y/N would laugh at, at that moment, she found herself empathising with him and her expression was glitching, faltering off her face.

“You know how moles have meanings?” Sunghoon babbled, slapping his hand onto his pale forehead.

“Yeah,” Jay sighed, giving up on the blanket and kneeling on the side of the bed. He rested his elbows on the mattress, hands holding his chin up.

“So, I have a mole on my right pinky toe,” he started and Y/N nodded as if she were amused. Jay hummed along to his words as if he were interested. “One day I was bored and I decided to google the meaning. Guess what it said?”

“What?” Jay asked.

“I said guess!”

With another sigh, Jay swallowed and made his best guess. “That you’ll get fortunate in life?”

“No!” Sunghoon flailed his arms in the air, then huffed as he fisted the ends of the blanket that was resting at his hips. “Google said that I’ll always face issues in my love life and marital life,” he frowned in an almost child-like manner, tilting his head towards Jay as though he was asking for pity. “So I’m basically never going to find true love.”

“‘Hoon,” Jay clicked his tongue. “Don’t believe what the internet says and just sleep will you?” He brought the blanket up to his chin again, only for it to be strewn across the room.

This time, Sunghoon yelled curses in Korean.

Y/N found herself chuckling, hiding her laugh behind her hand and Jay looked over his shoulder with eyes squinting to slits. She hurried out a few apologies, raising her arms in defence and taking a few steps back. Jay didn’t know how many times he sighed that night but if he had to be grateful for anything, it was Jake’s slumber and Y/N’s patience to deal with drunk people.

“You should try sleeping, Y/N,” he offered, noticing her eyelids fluttering shut every few minutes. “You’ve had a long day.”

“It’s alright,” she walked backwards until she reached the giant bean bag sitting at the corner of the room, beside the balcony. Her hands rested behind her head, her legs crossing as she smirked at Jay. “I’ll stay awake until Sunghoon and you fall asleep.”

Jay grinned. “Alright, hotshot.”

Her promise was broken because within five minutes, she had drifted asleep while curled up on the soft, cloudy bean bag.

It was due to a loud crack of thunder that Jake sprung out of bed, cold sweat trickling down the side of his face and his chest heaved with a lack of breath. He had just woken up from a dream, one where he was back at Y/N’s high school again and had fulfilled his urge to beat Sam to a pulp. In this dream, Y/N was crying in Sheila’s shoulder, crying about how she was scared she would never love another or another would never love her and then he was holding Sam by the collar, yelling profanities at him- profanities that begged why he broke a beautiful soul, why he tore the livelihood of a girl with so much potential for life. Just as Jake was about to confess his love for her, he woke up. It was a terrible, nerve-wracking dream.

Another bolt of thunder let him blink, his head turning to look around the room. Sunghoon snored beside him, his legs strewn in an awkward yet seemingly comfortable manner. Jay was asleep on a chair beside Sunghoon, holding a pillow close to his chest as his head nodded onto his shoulder. Y/N was sleeping on his beloved bean bag, one that she had grown fond of throughout the many times she had visited his apartment. She was curled up, hugging her knees to her chest and leaning her head onto the glass of the balcony window. Her brows were furrowed, though, as if she were caught up in a dream- her lips occasionally twitched. Jake didn’t think much of it and slipped out of his bed, ignoring the way Sunghoon mumbled nonsense in his sleep.

Jake padded towards his kitchen, preparing to make himself ramen as a midnight snack. He added spam and an egg and even added a slice of cheese to it because he knew Y/N liked her ramen that way and he also knew she always got happy when he ate something she liked. His ramen was accompanied by a cup of tea, holding a mug and a ramen bowl in either hand as he walked back to his room and set his food beside the bean bag Y/N was nuzzled in. He brought her a blanket, draping it over a frame and smiling as she pulled it closer to her with a hum- her brows unfurrowed. He pondered for a while, eyes never leaving her now peaceful state with crossed arms and debating what to do next until he was sleepy again.

He didn’t know what exactly he was thinking but he knew he was thinking about Y/N. She was a topic that occupied the many nooks and crannies of his brain for many months and he wasn’t complaining. He was just growing impatient now, praying harder and harder every day that someday, she would be his; that someday, he could call her his own. As he kneeled down to reach her level, taking her nimble hand in his, he leaned toward her forehead to plant a feather-like kiss. His lips stayed on her skin, a sensation so soft yet so warm it made him feel fuzzy and he finally understood what the poets meant with their word choice. It would be the first time he kissed her in any form and he decided he liked it- the feeling of her skin on his lips. And he decided he would do it more often and form it a habit.

Y/N had habits of her own to project on Jake. She refused to finish any chocolate she ate without asking if Jake wanted any and she always wished him a good morning and good night no matter the circumstances. Wherever she went without him, she’d buy him a bracelet or any small trinket as a souvenir. She had gone to a few beaches with her family for vacation and she brought him back sea shells- Jake still had everything she ever gave him, tucked away in a drawer or scattered across his shelves. Jake, out of love, had a few habits of his own like always calling her or sending her a few texts every day, even on days that they were too busy for themselves. Whenever he saw a vibrant flower, he would pluck it and slide it in her hair, behind her ear. He would never watch a movie or show without asking if she wanted to watch it with him because he knew how much she liked watching things with other people- and her answer was usually always yes. Jake always bought her rings or bracelets or necklaces- some type of jewellery- whenever he found the chance because her love for them was uncanny. One could never find Y/N Y/L/N without rings or bracelets on her hand and earrings dangling on her ears.

The more he thought about it, the more he realised his friendship with her sounded like what she described her and Sam used to be but a huge part of Jake couldn’t care. Because now, she didn’t wish for Sam back and she gave Jake what she couldn’t give anyone else and he was giving her what she didn’t get but craved and deserved. Consistency.

Anyone that loves you is gonna take care of you this way, Y/N. Anyone that loves you is gonna treat you the way he used to. There was nothing special about that. Jake was special because he refused to leave. No matter how much she hurt him and no matter how much he lost hope in finding requited love in her, he would never leave and he would never change.

As thunder decreased, he slid into the leftover space on the bean bag, draping the little amount of blanket left on his lap. With one hand holding his tea and the other his phone, he smiled to himself, feeling the warmth of her arm on his. He would stay in that position until he drifted asleep, his head leaning on her shoulder and arms intertwined.

WITHIN TWO WEEKS OF her graduation, Y/N moved out of her parents' house. She bought an apartment of her own, one that was closer to Jake’s apartment and Sheila’s university. With extensive help from Jay, whose dad had connections with house brokers and Tony, who bargained his way to a cheap amount, Y/N had managed to buy an apartment with her savings and a little more money from her parents. It had two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a large enough kitchen to fit three people. But most important of all was her balcony. Her huge balcony, which could fit an entire sofa set on its own, was her favourite aspect of her new home and she already knew she would spend most of her free time there.

She decided to paint her apartment on her own, deeming appointing painters from outside would be too expensive. Some days, she would paint alone and other days, Jake would be there to help, or Sheila or her parents. She didn’t let anyone else even know she had an apartment of her own, cutting off all contact with everyone from high school. Jake’s friends would come over sometimes too, bringing housewarming gifts in the form of new bed sheets, throw pillows or paintings found in flea markets. In about a month, her apartment would be ready, fully painted and furnished, decorated in a manner that fulfilled her dreams of having her own place to live.

The walls were painted a dark shade of brown, a shade so dark that it would be impossible to tell its colour unless the morning rays of sunshine hit the paint. The kitchen, on the other hand, stayed dull ivory and her average-sized fridge would always be stocked with drinks and cake, along with her favourite vegetables to cook. Her pantry was always filled with snacks and fruits, not because she would have guests around all the time but because she had a habit of eating when bored or stressed. She made a hobby of collecting different flavours of pop tarts and cereals and Jake even made fun of her for it.

The first few days of living alone were daunting. There were nights when Jake or her parents couldn’t stay over because they were busy or were too tired to drive and there were nights when she couldn’t even sleep. Y/N over thought a lot. Being alone didn’t do her any good but one day, Sheila called her in the middle of the night to check up on her and with that conversation, she knew that she could do it. She knew that being entirely independent of then on wouldn’t be an issue. Jake was half an hour away from her house and Sheila’s dorm was forty-five minutes away. Tony would regularly spend time with her while she worked and sometimes when she got back home, Jake would be sitting on her couch with two bowls of ramen, waiting for her company.

Life got better as she settled in. She wished life would stay as simple as this forever- her, her parents, a couple of friends and a well-paying job.

She had decorated her balcony with a few cushioned chairs and a swing, potted vine plants in the opposite corner. Sitting on the swing and reading became her favourite pass time when she was home alone. She would have her laptop with her sometimes, either watching something while sipping coffee or writing the next preposterous story she conjured up. She let the bustle of New York become the background music to her life and watched the sun set and rise sometimes and it quickly became a lifestyle. Jake would be with her sometimes, leaning against the railings and watching the moon rise and fall with her. Sometimes they would be talking, sometimes they stood in complete silence, simply enjoying each other's presence.

Riki and Jungwon visited her apartment a lot. Their dancing and karate classes were ten minutes away from where she lived and they would walk over to her apartment. They usually took naps to recharge before going back home and starting their school work. Other times, they would eat whatever food Y/N would graciously prepare for them. If they were feeling energetic, they’d ramble about their days, and tell her the most mundane things that happened and Y/N would listen to them like she were their guardian angel and she listened with a bright smile on her face and no complaints. Heeseung would pick them up to take home but other times it would be Jay, Sunghoon or Sunoo. It was rare that Jake was asked to pick them up and drop them home- he was only called in emergencies.

Once Y/N finally bought a car, she was the one dropping the kids home. She had to save up for a few more months but she bought a car and her life would be complete once she had enough money to buy a bike. She didn’t need Tony to pick her up for errands anymore and that brought her to the reality of becoming a full-fledged independent adult. It wasn’t the fact that she had to buy groceries alone, sleep alone and manage her schedule herself, shower and brush her teeth without her parents having to pester her for it- no, she realised she was growing up when Tony no longer had to pick her up anymore. Because she had a car and now she knew why everyone was furious over gas prices increasing and understood the frustration of traffic.

Suddenly, she was just a normal person with no baggage from failed relationships and drifted friendships. She was simply an adult with issues about gas and water bills and figuring out what to cook for dinner, all the while making ample amounts of money.

She felt normal. She felt great.

Going on late-night drives became another one of her acquired habits, easing into her nightly routines on times she couldn’t fall asleep. She would water her plants, close all the windows, prepare the ingredients of what she wanted for breakfast and respond to whatever emails Tony forwarded to her before mounting in her car and driving off into an abyss of lights, noise, a blanket of stars and a carpet of tar. That night would be no different, knuckles curling around the familiar steering wheel and she found herself on the highway amongst other cars and trucks and a few rare sightings of bike riders. She was smiling, laughing even as she sang along to the radio and enjoyed her own company. For the first time in a long time, she was able to enjoy doing things on her own and laugh on her own and she prayed to God nothing could take that away from her again. She was happy while reading and annotating her books alone, eating alone, watching shows and movies alone, watching the sunset alone and now, she was happy while driving and singing One Direction alone.

Though she was independent and could make reckless decisions, she concluded that driving out of town at an ungodly hour would be a trip uncalled for so she was on her way back home and sitting in the passenger's seat was a big box of chocolate cake she picked up in the only bakery open past midnight. She was stuck at a red light, humming her way through the sixty-second count down and nodding her head to the beat of whatever song played on the radio. She was living on a plane of oblivion until she opened her eyes and looked around the rest of the cars and the rose-coloured glasses slipped right off her view.

Beside hers was a matte black car and in it sat Sam, a grin on his face as he glanced at the girl sitting beside him, his girlfriend- the girl he told Y/N not to worry about.

Suddenly, the world around her came crashing in the form of stiffened bones and pressure beating against her skull. Her body was shaking but she couldn’t move and her hands were stuck to the steering wheel, a gulp tearing down her throat. She felt, to put it simply, awful and she wished she could forget about traffic rules and drive off but she couldn’t and she convinced herself that they were clueless about her presence beside them.

His girlfriend had a ring on her finger and they were kissing while holding hands. They were happy and they were in love and a quick check on Instagram confirmed that they were engaged. Y/N didn’t know how she ended up in front of Jake’s apartment but she was standing there with messy hair and in desperate need to fall into her definition of a perfect limbo again, like she was in only thirty minutes ago.

When Jake heard his doorbell ring, he knew exactly who was standing on the other side but he was never expecting the sudden visit. It was past midnight, he was half asleep and he had an early appointment with an editor in the morning but none of that mattered when his assumption was confirmed once he looked through the peephole. He was still in his sweatpants, a sweaty shirt covering his torso and flattened hair covering his forehead and though she had seen him in states much worse before, a wave of consciousness still took over him and he debated changing before answering the door but then it could be too late and he didn’t want her running off into the night.

He had terrible breath and his eyes could barely stay open due to his sore eyelids but he opened the door anyway and Y/N stood in front of him in all her glory. Her hair was messier than his, strands falling on the sides of her face in soft curls and the rest reaching her waist in waves that reminded him of a messy day at the beach. He knew her natural hair was his favourite style on her but it was the last thing he could focus on when he noticed the pain in her starry eyes. It was a kind of pain he had never seen on her before, it was a kind of pain that made him think she could die of heartbreak anytime soon. She chewed on her lips intensely and her gaze darted around everywhere until it landed on him, skin paled into the glow of a ghost.

“Jake,” she breathed and she sounded as though a shard of glass had pierced through her heart. “They’re engaged.”

“What?” His eyes could finally widen, following her as she walked through his apartment and into his room.

“What?” She exclaimed and her hands were in her hair, gripping the roots as her keys dangled off her index.

Jake stepped towards her, cautious hands in front of him as he attempted to wrap his arms around her. “Y/N-”

“It hurts!” She yelled, flinging the keys across the room and a crack echoed off the walls of his bedroom- it was either a hole in his wall or the break of her car keys.

In all the time Jake knew Y/N, it would be the first time she heard her yell until her voice shrilled. It was the first time he had ever seen her throw something- break something- in an attempt to ease her anger and pain. Since he had known her, she was always true to her belief in working through anger in the form of words rather than violence. The gym or sports was a healthy option she advised but breaking household items and punching other people was something she frowned upon. So, he was surprised when she didn’t stop him from taking another step toward Sam on graduation day, fully aware that he would have punched him if it weren’t for Veronica pushing them apart. And he was surprised now, that Y/N was gripping the roots of her hair and gritting between her teeth, her car keys laying broken in the corner of his bedroom.

The next ten minutes was a montage of her throwing hands and shoving him away as he clasped his arms around her frame. He didn’t know how, but they ended up on the floor, Y/N curled into his chest as she sobbed about how clueless she was about her emotions. She sobbed about how she wished she were a different person and she sobbed about everything she couldn't grieve over in ten minutes and Jake listened to it all while stroking her hair, shedding a few tears of his own as his lips buried in her hair. They didn’t move, simply stayed there as a permanent kiss, shuddering every time she did. And somehow, he carried her to his bed, seating her on the edge of the mattress and he kneeled in front of her while holding her hands in his palms- just the way he let her hold his heart in her palms without her even knowing it.

“I thought you were over him, Y/N,” he sighed, voice flowing in a broken whisper. His head tilted to the floor and he wet with pruned lips. Jake felt the tips of Y/N’s fingers brush over his hair, fixing its parting and nimbly trying to style it as a way of distraction.

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” her voice was hoarse, having no other option but to speak lowly and her eyes were puffy. “He’s giving her what I’ve always wanted-”

“Getting engaged right after high school, that’s what you wanted?” He raised his brows, eyes almost judging the words that were slipping out of her mouth.

“No,” she whined, whipping off the stray tears off her cheek. “I wanted consistency, I wanted him to be true to his words and I wanted him to prioritise me but-”

“But he didn’t, Y/N, for fuck’s sake he didn’t,” Jake shifted to sit beside her, voice raising enough to make Y/N flinch. “What’s so special about him?”

“I don’t know, Jake,” she shook her head, sniffling her nose. “I don’t know, I don’t know. Maybe because he offered more to me than anyone in my life. Maybe it’s because I’m scared I’ll never find someone so fitting for me, someone who can read me. I’m scared I’m not capable of loving anyone else. I’m scared someone will never look at me and fall in love with me and I’m scared I’ll never be enough for someone. I’m scared I’m destined to die alone, Jake,” she heaved a breath. “I’m scared I’ll never be anyone's favourite person, I’m scared I’ll never be somebody’s number one. I’m scared I won’t find the person that’ll want to do everything with me.”

“What if that person is right in front of you?”

A little over a year ago, when Jake was introduced to Y/N, his biggest wish was to crumble the walls she had built so high to hide her true identity. His biggest wish was to know her, understand her, befriend her, and have her in some form or the other. Now he had her, crying to him and confiding in him and sharing everything including pieces of her happiness with him but it wasn’t enough. To brush her hair and hold her hands while she was crying over a broken past wasn’t enough but to kiss her lips and lull her to sleep felt more appropriate to him- he wanted more and he wanted to give her more. He craved it more than a kid craved cotton candy and he yearned for it more than a soldier waiting to come back home to family.

Now, she was looking at him with tears brimming her eyes, fresh tears meant for Jake rather than her history. Her lips were in a minuscule parting, teeth peeking out from behind her lips yet her breath was caught in her throat, failing to escape her lungs. She felt his every move, the way his fingers weaved with hers, the way his eyes darted between the changes in her features and the way his breaths were heavier as he moved to sit closer to her, anticipating a viable reaction from her. Y/N couldn’t help but feel deja vu as she let his stare weigh her down, bringing her back to the day they met at GQ’s headquarters and when he asked her to go to a cafe with him. At the time, she would admit that she expected more than friendship from him but as they grew closer and became increasingly important figures in each other's lives, whatever hopes and expectations she had in him were suppressed and the reassurance of a constant figure surfaced.

“I want to do everything with you, Y/N,” Jake continued, knowing that she was too in shock to give any response to him. “And it hurts me every time you think or talk or mention or cry about Sam because what is it that I don’t have? What has he given you that I couldn’t in the past year? What is so goddamn special about a guy that fucking left you? I stayed because you’re you and I stayed because you make me so damn happy. You’re my favourite person. You’re the person I want to be beside while doing everything, you’re the person I’m excited to talk to at the end of the day and you're the person I prioritise over anyone else-”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

There was so much desperation in his voice, an ample amount of fear that made Y/N’s knees weak. He was scared because there was a chance she could stand up and walk away without a word, there was a chance she would push him away and there was a chance she could laugh at his face and list out everything that made him unworthy of her but instead, all he got was glassy, doll-like eyes darting across his features robotically, as though she was reading every strand of DNA in his fibres. If it weren’t for the grazing sounds of the curtains dancing with the wind, he thought he could explode in the silence- perhaps the silence was a loud enough answer, which Jake refused to accept. In every beat of his heart, he could feel the essence of his soul slipping away from his being; like her response ruled his life or death.

The silver rays of the moon illuminated a purple hue on her face, reflecting the violets of the curtains. He thought, if they were in a photography studio, he would be quipping stills of her from all the angles she looked beautiful in and he would print his favourite picture out and hang it up on his wall. He could see her lips quiver as the wheels in her head turned, the fog in her eyes setting as though she was letting another wall crumble.

Jake felt the world around him spin and his bed suddenly felt like heavenly clouds and his room transformed into light blue skies as her hand tightened in his. He was floating, body suspended in thin air but Y/N was stuck to the same spot in his bed, unknown to the breeze he felt flowing through his floating hair and lifting shirt- it almost felt like he was in a cartoon, flying around between clouds and flocks of birds. He could see the line that drew between reality and fantasy, light blue contrasting with the darkness in his room, and he had to wait until he would be sucked back in again.

“Keep it that way,” she said.

“What?”

“Everything you just said. Keep it that way and I’m all yours,” her words were a timid whisper. A rush of blood gushed to her cheeks as she almost embarrassingly made eye contact with Jake. It sounded as though she had said those words millions of times before, as though she had rehearsed it, again and again, to be said at the perfect moment. Jake had to wonder if she thought about this, him, as much as he did her.

Nothing made sense to him, nor was he going to ask questions.

In a fleeting moment, Jake felt like his soul flung back into his body like he was waking up from a dream of falling off a building. He fell back, head nestled into the plethora of pillows near his headboard and back settling into the mattress and hovering above him was Y/N, a confused grin about her expression which she couldn’t control and her hands stuck to the pillow on either side of his head. He wasn’t sure how they found themselves in their predicament but his hands were gripping her waist like his life depended on it and if he wiggled his pinky finger, he would be able to feel her warm skin under her white shirt.

“Say that again,” Jake’s lips parted, his breath close enough to fan against her neck and his nose close enough to touch hers.

“Say what?” She asked, pulling her bottom lip between her top teeth while he wondered if the shade of innocence on her face was a simple act she put up.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he breathed.

“That I’m all yours?”

“Exactly.”

Jake was flipping them over, a light yelp of surprise as Y/N’s head hit the pillows and he hovered over her, positions exchanged between them. His breath was heaving, hair falling over his forehead and lips parting, then pursing in a continuous loop while she wondered what he was planning on doing. The world around them froze, the curtains floating in a ghastly position and the moon pausing its process of setting. They couldn’t hear cars or trucks and they couldn’t hear the air conditioning. All that mattered was their breath and the way their heartbeats synced along with their levels of anticipation.

She felt his hand on the side of her face, knuckles brushing away strands of coiled hair and exposing more of the fatigue in her eyes. “I’m gonna kiss you,” Jake whispered and Y/N gulped, nodding with hooded eyes. “And I’ll be damned if you think of anyone other than me,” and without thinking, letting a surge of adrenaline shoot up his spine, he leaned forward and their lips finally, finally, touched.

It was only a peck, a kiss long enough for Jake to feel the carve of her lips and for Y/N to relish in the feeling of butterflies and a foggy head. Her eyes fluttered shut and she stayed in her position as he pulled away, taking a moment to examine her features, soft and tranquil as she waited for more with a rising chest. Jake had been waiting for this moment since the day he laid his eyes on her, since the day he learned her name and since the day he had dubbed her an important person in his life. And the moment was perfect, regardless of the salt tracks on her cheeks and regardless of the hatred he held for the reason for her tears.

Then, he lowered his head again, eyes screwing shut and his lips touching hers for the second time and all sense of time was lost. They kissed like the act brought then oxygen, an intensity filled with sucked-in breaths and fighting tongues, lips refusing to part no matter who was pulling away. Their legs tangled and their hands held each other as though they were the last two people in an ending world. His fingers combed through her hair and he held her jaw, then wrapped his fingers around her neck as he adjusted himself to kiss her comfortably.

He held her softly like she were a feather, skimming the tips of his fingers over her skin before kissing every inch of her, parted lips painting pink and blue bruises onto parts of her chest that would be hidden later. She moaned for him and she moaned his name and he was proving to her that she was capable of loving him just as much as he loved her and he was proving to her just how much he worshipped her with cautious yet feral actions. They weren’t robotic, moving in a synced flow as if they knew exactly what the other was going to do.

And it was perfect, like how anyone would imagine their first time with their true loves to be. Only, these lovers were lucky enough to acquire it.

Words could not describe the euphoria Jake felt that night while he held her to his chest, her fingers drawing meaningless shapes on his shoulder with her hair sprawled across the pillow. His fingers trailed up and down her arm while he spoke about his year-long pining towards her, all his dreams and fantasies of taking her on dates and bringing her flowers and waking up to her every morning. Y/N hummed along, a soft smile on her face as she pressed her cheek into his chest, occasionally piping about how much she'd love to go to an art gallery or the aquarium with him because, in all honesty, she had also imagined rendezvousing to the same places with him. For Jake, having her bare and vulnerable on him and giving him her all was another dream come true.

"You know, I've been thinking of taking up photography," he mused, placing yet another kiss on her forehead.

"Oh, yeah?" Y/N grinned in glee, a twinkle in her eyes. "You should, you can become the next top photographer," she giggled.

The thought popped into his head a little while after Y/N's graduation day. The pictures he had taken of her and the ambience around were praised by everyone he had shown them to, especially Riki, an avid photography enthusiast himself. He had told him that the pictures were worthy enough to be published in magazines and made into billboards and if he mastered a few tricks on editing, he'd be a professional in no time. Since then, he wouldn’t go anywhere without his newly bought camera, taking pictures with the most effort he could. His muse was usually Y/N and other times, he would be taking pictures of Sunghoon or Jungwon.

Y/N had noticed his new interest and fondness for photography around a month ago when they went shopping for carpets and bedsheets. They were at a furniture store Jay had directed them to visit and he brought his camera, taking random pictures of people on the street and candid pictures of her picking through an array of carpets and fabrics. He had even asked her to model and strike a few poses, which she did with laughter as people eyed the pair with judgement. A few pictures later, it got awkward and they moved on to the next store but Y/n was not surprised at all that he was now thinking of studying photography. But, she was excited for him and they would celebrate it with the cake that was forgotten in her car.

Modelling didn't bring Jake the same thrill it did three years ago. It had become a norm for him, a lifestyle he had no plans of escaping for the next few years. Maybe he’d venture into the world of acting or singing or maybe even start a modelling firm of his own, but at the moment, as he thought about juggling between a modelling career and photography school, he felt giddy the way a kid would feel about a free lollipop at the dentists.

“I think I’m gonna go to college,” Y/N said, her voice soft and unmoving as though the decision she made had been written in stone for years.

“Psychology?” Jake confirmed.

“Yeah,” she sighed, smiling into his chest.

SCHEDULES WERE BECOMING HECTIC to remember and ever since Y/N started community college, forgetting her next errand to attend or perform became a habit. She drove home in a hurry, her hair a wild mess pleated away in a braid. She flung the door open and threw her bag over the first table she walked past and her wide blinking eyes spoke nothing but panic as she realised how she was late to yet another meeting with a designer she was supposed to meet and model for-

“Y/N?”

Tony and Sheila were seated on her couch, staring at their friend like she was possessed by an eccentric ghost. Her outfit, an untucked shirt and black tie and skirt, was unshoveled and it looked as though she had almost fallen off a high-speed roller coaster. Y/N turned her head towards them with surprise, wide eyes softening just a smidge as she stopped emptying her pockets and purse in search of her ID card.

“What? Oh, hello!” She chuckled, moving stray strands of hair away from her face. “I’m so sorry, I can’t stay. I have a meeting I’m supposed to attend-”

“-Y/N,” Tony repeated, now more assertive. “That meeting is tomorrow,” he reminded her.

“Oh,” Y/N breathed, letting go of her purse with a thud. “Oh, thank God,” she celebrated with a gleaming smile. “Then what are you doing here?”

“I came to discuss a potential for a hand modelling contract?”

“Oh, no. I’m a terrible candidate for it, my nails never grow evenly and I have a few scabs and picked skin around my fingers,” she waved off and Tony nodded with pursed lips. She turned to look at Sheila, brows raising in question.

“Oh, I just came to visit because he said you’d be free for the rest of the day.”

Sheila and Tony met early into Y/N’s modelling career. It was an unexpected meeting- Y/N and Tony were on their way to a McDonald’s to grab a snack and Sheila was there with her brother, enjoying a cheap lunch before going to the movies. So the two groups merged into one and they spent the evening together. Tony and Sheila had grown to become friends since then, occasionally texting if they needed anything from each other or calling to see if it would be a good day to meet and go to the movies again.

“I’m free for the rest of the day?” Y/N piped. “The day could not get any better, I swear I need a day off. I’m tired,” she sighed.

Just as she pulled herself towards the couch, Jake flung the door open with Heeseung and Sunghoon trailing behind him, each holding a plastic bag of take-out food. When Jake’s gaze landed on Y/N, his smile brightened and when he noticed Tony and Sheila, he raised the bag in his hand like he was presenting the food to them. “Everyone’s here!” He beamed. “We’re all gonna have lunch together.”

“Yeah, I gotta shower before that, though,” Heeseung beelined away from the group and ventured into Y/N’s house like he had been there a hundred times before- which was true.

Jake, before doing anything else, greeted Y/N with a kiss and walked toward the kitchen.

While Jake, Sunghoon and Tony set up the table together, Sheila dragged Y/N to sit with her so she could comb her hair. She was whining about how she was lazy to shower and change her clothes and would do her skin-care routine later in the night so the least she could do was fix her tangled and knotted hair. It was tranquil between everyone, the guys occasionally speaking a few phrases to catch up and Sheila catching Y/N up on how college was and how exam season was coming soon.

“Oh, yeah, Even I have to start studying for exams,” Y/N tutted, shaking her head as Sheila rounded the rubberband to her braid.

“You should have enrolled in my university, we could have helped each other!”

“I know, but community college is much easier!”

Everyone sat around the table for lunch when Heeseung finally showed up, rubbing a towel against his wet hair with a grin on his face at the sight of food. While they ate, Sunghoon explained how Jay couldn’t show up because he had a project to prepare for and Jungwon and Riki were in dancing and taekwondo classes. Sunoo was caught up with his chemistry professor, writing his next research paper.

“I haven’t met Sunoo yet,” Sheila mused while chewing on a piece of cabbage.

“Yeah, you have,” Y/N reminded her while pointing her fork towards her.

“Yeah, I have, but I didn’t properly talk to him like this,” she referred to the impromptu lunch plans she was intertwined in.

“That’s because he’s always busy with classes or work or studies,” Jake said.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make you talk someday,” Heeseung assured while smirking and continuing to eat broccoli.

The group talked and talked and filled each other in about various aspects of their lives and steered to topics that didn’t even relate to themselves. Tony left soon as he had to meet his fiance and Sunghoon left to practise for his next ice-skating performance. Then Sheila left too because her dorm would close soon and it was just Heeseung, Jake and Y/N sitting on the couch and passing around the last glass of orange juice. They attempted to play cards but it got dull so they watched a movie together instead, a really old black and white movie that Y/N was itching to watch and even though it was boring too, their commentary and jokes made it all the better.

Eventually, it was only her awake, Jake and Heeseung passed out on the couch with a thin blanket shared between them. Y/N pondered about her life that night, realising that she had started a new chapter long before she even realised it. She thought about Sheila and how they had grown to become more like sisters over the past few months. She thought about Jake and how healthy their relationship was, how easy it was to be herself around him. She thought about Tony and the way he was part of her family before anyone else. She thought about Heeseung, Jay, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jungwon and Riki and how they treated her house like their own because they’ve visited so many times and spent the night so many times. They made memories there, the residue of beer on her ceiling caused by Sunghoon was never painted over and the crack on the corner of her coffee table caused by Jungwon who tried attempting a high kick in the middle of the hall never got fixed.

She thought about how her present was worthy enough to forget about her past. She thought about how she had everything she’d ever wanted.

[flawseer]

Became curious based on a Smaugust piece: What are your thoughts on everyone's favorite royal suck-up, Pike? (also ofc compliments to your writing and art)

Surprise, I am still kicking. And thus my Sisyphean quest to answer all the questions in my inbox continues.

I like Pike. I used to think moderately favorably of him, but pondering this question and then drawing a bunch of pictures of and about him made me realize that, yeah, I am rather fond of him. He is funny and cute in the same way a small, yappy dog is.

I remember once talking to my partner about Pike and I asked: "Do you think the JMA staff has to deal with Pike constantly trying to sleep in the hallway in front of Anemone's room?" Only to then realize, upon re-reading the books, that this actually happens in canon. I was thrilled.

Most of the time when people ask me what I think of a character, they want to hear what my take on them is, so I'll get into that.

Background

I don't think a lot is known about Pike's life, outside him having been assigned as Anemone's (questionably) covert bodyguard. He is one of those background characters that fill out the student roster at JMA but don't get a lot of development, though he is one of the more lucky ones as he gets comparatively more lines and scenes than, say, Barracuda, or Garnet.

We don't ever hear about his home life or familial situation, but I think he comes from a common military family. Not a particularly prestigious one, but rather one of middling significance. I imagine one of his ancestors--like his great grandmother--once made it to captain and ever since the whole family has prided themselves on their military legacy and loyalty to the Seawing throne, even though nobody else really knows who they are.

Pike's parents are both bottom rung palace guards; trusted enough to be stationed vaguely near the seat of government over a remote outpost, but nothing more. As is tradition in their family, they signed up as soon as they were old enough to hold a trident. Pike was expected to follow in their footsteps, and so did the same. He is naturally eager to please, doesn't ask many questions, and knows how to follow orders, so he took to this life relatively well.

One thing immediately apparent when observing Pike is that he is very blunt, headstrong, and reckless. He is prone to self-injury and mishaps, routinely making a tail end of himself during exercises. One day, I imagine, he was out in the courtyard, practicing his combat maneuvers, when he somehow managed to trap himself underneath a training dummy in a humiliating way. Unbeknownst to him, the Queen and Princess were walking past a window overlooking this scene, and the latter happened to spot him.

Princess Anemone, starved for normal social contact due to being permanently leashed to her overbearing mother, immediately took a liking to the clumsy guard and wished to take Pike into her service. The Queen though, hated the idea. Anything she couldn't control with 100% certainty was not to be let near her only living daughter. She didn't even let her own sons approach the Princess for this very reason. So she refused.

But Anemone, sensing an opportunity to finally snatch a tiny mote of control over her own life, didn't relent. She would never overtly defy her mother, but pushed back against her in the most passively aggressive way she could muster. She WOULD have this one thing that was hers, no matter how many times she had to sigh wistfully or forget to eat.

Coral meanwhile still disliked the idea, but after some pondering figured this could work to her advantage. Granting her daughter this favor would make her grateful, and thus easier to keep in check. It was not like the boy would be able to do anything undesirable since she would always be there to watch anyway. And if he ever displeased her, a random guard was easier to dispose of without turning heads, than if she let Anemone play with one of her brothers.

So eventually, she acquiesced, and extracted Pike from the palace guard to assign him to her daughter's protection.

The news hit Pike's family like lightning. Suddenly, after decades of being nobodies with delusions of grandeur, the whole palace was paying genuine attention to them, and the new recruit who, overnight, got assigned to be the Princess' personal retainer. Pike's parents took him aside and impressed on him how important of a task this was. If he did his job well and kept the Princess content and safe, not only would the current Queen think favorably of all of them, but Anemone would remember his service and reward him once she took the throne herself. For his sake and theirs, this was an opportunity not to be squandered.

And thus, Pike shouldered this great responsibility suddenly thrust onto his wings and embraced being Anemone's personal servant and protector. Pushed forward by his sense of honor and loyalty, a desire not to disappoint his family, and the knowledge that, if he were to fail and lose the only heir, Queen Coral would surely kill him.

Day-to-day life

Pike takes his duty very seriously, both out of loyalty to his liege, and because of how much is at stake for him personally. I picture him getting up during the small hours each morning and beginning his daily exercise routine, to stay in shape for his job. His roommate Flame often wakes up to him noisily doing squats in the middle of the sleeping cave and yells at him. "Am I cursed to be tormented by a diminutive idiot Seawing wherever I go!??!" Pike is lucky that his other roommate, Bigtail, is a heavy sleeper. Otherwise the training session would likely be cut short, with Pike tied to the ceiling lamp.

After wrecking Flame's sleep, Pike usually seeks out Anemone and attempts to stay near her at all times. Initially this caused friction between him and the teachers, as he would often skip his own classes to attend Anemone's. He only stopped doing this when Tsunami made it clear skipping classes would get him sent home, and thus away from Anemone permanently.

As they spent time at the Academy, the Princess began to get better and better at giving Pike the slip whenever she got fed up with his overprotectiveness. He freaks out whenever she vanishes, which is often. To help manage his stress, the JMA staff make him attend regular seminars on inner peace and meditation hosted by Fatespeaker. He is not very good at it, but enjoys the exercises that involve listening to running water.

He began to mellow out for a bit after initial growing pains, until the History cave incident occurred. The bombing shook him back into the bodyguard mindset and he began sleeping in the hallway outside of Anemone's sleeping cave. It weirds out Ostrich whenever she has to climb over him. Attempts to get him to stop this have been unfruitful. The current policy seems to be to let him do this until things calm down and he stops on his own.

Anything else

I believe Pike may have a thing for Rainwings. He is generally hyper-aggressive and rude towards everyone he talks to, with two notable exceptions. One of them is Anemone, whom he is sworn to serve and keep safe. The other is Tamarin, whom he is uncharacteristically kind to. My personal impression is that he may have a bit of a crush on her, but keeps himself from pursuing it as to not upset Anemone.

To my knowledge, Pike never really interacts with Turtle. That is a shame, because I would like to know how they would get along. Pike may be greatly disappointed at Turtle's general un-regal-ness, but still begrudgingly respect him out of obligation. I can picture a scene where he berates Turtle for his demeanor, only for someone else to chime in with an affirmative "Yeah Turtle, you suck", upon which Pike turns around and starts ripping into them about disrespecting Seawing royalty.

Concerningly, Pike's future is very uncertain. He is actually in grave danger right now. If Queen Coral ever finds out that he allowed a murderous, seawing-hating ancient wizard to abduct Anemone, she will have some opinions on that. If Coral has one consistent character trait, it is homicidal vengefulness against anyone who fails to protect her children, regardless of circumstance, regardless even if the perpetrator IS one of her children. That means there is a very real chance she will recall Pike from Jade Mountain and try to tear him apart.

I don't think Anemone would allow this to happen, mind you. She has been privy to her mother dragging poor sods out to the plaza to rip their teeth out, enough to recognize the signs of it coming. If she suspected Pike's life was in danger, I believe she would prevent him from leaving.

For now though, he remains at Jade Mountain, doing the best he can with the responsibility he was dealt, acting as Princess Anemone's retainer. It is a difficult, stressful, at times thankless job, but he would not have it any other way.

"Honor, and duty."

[fatecantstopme]

Late Night Brilliance

Pairing: Rafael Barba x Reader

Summary: Barba shows up at your house unexpectedly one evening to go over a case. What began as an honest need to work through some inconsistencies, turned into a battle to maintain professionalism and composure.

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), oral (M receiving), mentions of F receiving oral, fingering, light dom/sub vibes (Rafi is totally a dom).

A/N: Spanish Translations:

Querida/Cariño/Nena: Terms of endearment (darling/sweetheart/baby)

Meirda: shit

Por favor: please

The rest will be in brackets and italics after the sentence.

You were in the middle of eating your Chinese takeout when you were disturbed by a knock at your door. You weren't expecting any company and had been taking full advantage of a quiet Friday night in.

You sighed quietly as you pulled yourself off the sofa and went to answer the door. A shiver of surprise ran down your spine as you peered through the peephole. You groaned inwardly, glancing down at your rather disheveled appearance. You'd thrown on an old baggy t-shirt and leggings when you'd gotten home from work, but one look at the man standing on the other side of your door filled you with regret.

You pushed down any feelings of dread--and butterflies--as you opened the door and greeted your visitor with a warm smile. "Rafael Barba. What brings you by at 6:30pm on a Friday?"

Your tone was light and teasing, despite the unease you felt internally. He gave you his signature half-smirk, eyes quickly scanning you from head to toe, making you feel even more self-conscious.

He was wearing a beautiful three piece navy pinstripe suit with a lovely pink tie. You had no doubt he had matching suspenders under that damn vest...you hated how good he looked even after a long day of work.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said in a tone that indicated he knew damn well he wasn't interrupting anything. "I was hoping to talk to you about the Milligan case."

"Nothing better to do on a Friday night, Counselor?"

He chuckled. "My options were to spend the evening in my office, at home alone, or come spend it with a beautiful woman. I chose the latter."

You were more than a little surprised by his words, though you did your best not to show it. The two of you were known to flirt occasionally, but neither had dared to cross the line. A relationship between the two of you was out of the question, not that he was even interested in pursuing one with you. After all, he was married to his work and you were quite far from his type...you'd seen Yelina.

"Lucky for you, I also have no life outside of my job," you teased. "Come on in and make yourself at home. I've got Chinese food if you're hungry and I just opened a bottle of Merlot."

Rafael followed you in, shedding his suit jacket and draping it across the back of a dining chair. He began to roll up the sleeves of his white button down and you felt a stirring in your abdomen. "Chinese sounds amazing, but I can't say I'm a fan of Merlot."

It took you a moment to register the words he'd spoken as you were too preoccupied with not revealing how incredibly sexy you thought he looked in that moment. "I, uh--I think I have some bourbon if you're interested."

You practically bolted to the kitchen to look in the cabinet where you kept the liquor. You desperately needed to be as far away from him as possible before your face gave away the thoughts in your head.

"Bourbon sounds good."

Your eyes scanned the cabinet, locating the half-empty bottle at the back of the shelf. "Two fingers or three?"

"Three," he answered, voice much closer than it had been moments before.

You turned around to see Rafael leaning against the door frame with his arms folded across his chest. Your eyes nearly rolled into your head at the sight and you let out an audible sound you hoped could be interpreted as surprise.

You poured the drink in silence, before handing it to him and gesturing for him to follow you to the living room. "We can eat at the table if you prefer..." you trailed off.

"Not necessary. The couch looks perfectly comfortable."

He sat down on one end of the couch and you sat on the other, as far away as you could possibly get without sitting on the arm. He raised an eyebrow at you, but didn't comment on the awkward distance you'd managed to put between you.

"So you--um--you wanted to talk about Milligan?" you asked.

"Not exactly. I wanted to talk about the victim, Shelly."

"What about her?"

"Something about her story isn't sitting right with me."

"Okay..."

"I want you to go over it with me again. Maybe give me a fresh set of eyes and a different perspective?"

"I'm not sure how much help I can be, Barba. I was in the room when she disclosed--that's not exactly a fresh set of eyes."

"Perhaps, but you are a psychologist. You see things very differently from the rest of us."

You sighed. "Alright, I'll bite. Where do you wanna start?"

As the two of you began to discuss the case and the inconsistencies in the victim's story, your discomfort started to evaporate. This is what you were passionate about--what you were best at. Everything else simply faded away and Rafael became just a colleague, not a man you were hopelessly romantically interested in.

Two hours passed, but it felt like no time at all. Your coffee table was littered with files and papers, and both you and Rafael were leaning over it, examining pieces of evidence. He was mere inches from you, but you were so absorbed in what you were doing that you hardly noticed.

"Cariño, can you pass me that witness statement?" Rafael asked.

You grabbed the paper he was referring to and handed it to him, eyes still scanning the page in front of you. The term of endearment didn't even register in your mind, nor did he seem to realize he'd even said it aloud.

After a few moments, Rafael asked you another question. "Do you have the surveillance photos from the bar?"

You pushed a few folders out of the way, digging the file with the photos out from the bottom of the stack. "What are you looking for?"

"Her outfit."

"Why?"

He didn't answer as he flipped through the photos, finally landing on the one he had been looking for. "Look at this."

He handed you the photo, which you'd seen before. "Yeah that's Shelly leaving the bar before the assault."

"Right. Notice her outfit?"

You glanced at the photo again. "Typical night out attire. Why is this important?"

He handed you the statement he'd been reading earlier. "She came directly to the precinct after her assault to disclose, right? Nowhere in her initial statement does she say she ever changed clothes."

You'd been there the night in question, had sat beside Olivia as she took Shelly's statement. "She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt," you stated.

"So why didn't she tell us she went home first?"

"She might have been worried we would judge her or blame her for the assault because she wasn't dressed like a nun."

"Yeah, I suppose that's possible."

He looked a little crestfallen, like you'd rained on his parade. He knew in his gut Shelly wasn't telling the whole story, but he couldn't prove it. He needed a single thread...just one thread to pull on. He needed to know now before the trial began and the defense unraveled the entire case.

A thought dawned on you. "No semen, no body fluids," you mumbled as you searched the coffee table for the rape kit report from the hospital.

Rafael watched you, unsure of what you were thinking.

"Ahh!" You grabbed the report and flipped through it. "There was evidence of trauma to her vagina and several bruises on her body, but there were zero traces of any DNA that wasn't hers."

"Okay, but that's not uncommon."

"Perhaps if she'd waited to report, I would agree, but I think there's an alternative reason."

He raised an eyebrow and waited for you to continue.

"She went home and showered."

Realization dawned on his face. "Didn't you or Olivia ask that question?"

"Of course we did, but I think she was scared to tell us, scared of what we'd say."

"We need to reinterview her."

You nodded.

Rafael pulled out his phone and called Olivia. He relayed what you'd discovered and asked her to reinterview Shelly the following day. Olivia agreed and thanked him for letting her know.

"You're brilliant, you know that?" he said as he hung up, vivid green eyes locked on your face.

"Minor detective work, at best," you said with a shrug. "I've been doing this long enough that I should be able to put pieces of a puzzle together. Besides, as you rightfully mentioned, it's my job to study and understand human behavior."

He smiled. "Even still, it was good work."

"You found the pieces, I just put them together."

"Take the compliment, (Y/N). You know I give them so rarely."

You laughed. "Alright, alright. Thank you, Rafael."

His expression shifted slightly, gaze darkening as he looked at you. "I don't think you've ever called me by my first name before." Even his voice was lower, huskier.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks. "I--uh, I'm sorry."

He reached out and grabbed your hand. "Please don't apologize. I liked hearing it...very much."

Heat began to spread through your entire body, coloring more than just your cheeks. You were unsure how to respond--the unfamiliar territory both daunting and exciting.

Rafael mistook your silence for discomfort, immediately removing his hand from yours and looking incredibly uncomfortable. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

Everything in you wanted to reach out and touch him, reassure him that his words--and his touch--were welcome, but you knew that would be crossing a line you couldn't uncross.

"No worries," you mumbled.

The awkward silence stretched on for a few moments, during which time you were silently kicking yourself for making things weird.

"Well, umm, thank you for your help tonight. I-I guess I should be going," Rafael muttered lowly.

He started to get up and gather the papers strewn about the coffee table. You knew you should help him, but you didn't move--frozen in place with indecision. He couldn't see the war raging inside you, couldn't hear the thoughts screaming in your head.

After what seemed like an eternity, you finally forced out two words, "Don't go."

Rafael paused, holding a few papers in one hand and a folder in the other. "Pardon?"

You swallowed thickly, rising to your feet. "Please stay."

Surprise lit up his handsome face. "It's getting late," he said softly. "Are you sure you want me to stay?"

You nodded.

He slowly set the papers back down and came to the other side of the coffee table, positioning himself directly in front of you. He reached out, tentatively placing his warm palm against your cheek. You leaned into his hand, eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

"I need to hear you say it, querida," he murmured.

Your bright (y/e/c) eyes met his, a surge of confidence making your words clearer. "I want you to stay, Rafael."

His lips parted slightly, partially in surprise and partially in arousal. He stepped closer to you, closing the gap between you. His lips ghosted over yours before finally pressing gently against them, pulling you into a soft kiss.

You wanted nothing more than to lean into his kiss, to feel his hands on your body--you wanted to know what it was like to be worshipped by him, to make love to him.

But the rational part of your brain--the part that kept you on the straight and narrow your entire life--had managed to rear its ugly head. You couldn't drown out the voice in your head screaming at you that this was wrong--that you couldn't do this with him...he was your coworker, for god's sake.

You suddenly pulled away from him, voice coming out in a rushed whisper, "We can't."

While he was disheartened at the sound of your words, he wasn't really surprised. It wasn't forbidden--technically--but that didn't make it easy, or even right. "I won't force you, cariño."

His soft, comforting words made you want him even more. You sighed quietly and leaned your forehead against his. "We shouldn't," you whispered so softly he almost missed it.

His hands had settled on your hips and he began to rub soothing circles into your sides. "Can't or shouldn't?" he asked lowly.

Your trembling hand pressed firmly against his chest in a way that made him feel like you were pulling him closer, not pushing him away. "Please," you begged softly, neither of you sure of exactly what you were asking for.

Rafael's left hand slid lower on your hip, the tips of his long fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your bottom. His right hand pulled you closer to him, holding you flush against his body. "Tell me you don't want me--don't want this," he pleaded, voice husky with desire.

Your lips trembled against his mouth, body responding to his like it was made for him. "I can't..."

His left hand moved to grab you more fully, eliciting a soft moan of need from your lips. "Querida...tell me to stop."

"Please don't stop," you whimpered. "I need you--por favor, Rafi."

"Mierda," he growled, pulling you somehow even closer to him. His lips crashed into yours with a hunger you couldn't describe--a hunger you returned in kind.

The next several moments were a flurry of hands all but tearing at each other's clothes, desperate to feel skin to skin contact. In what had to be a record pace, the two of you found yourselves standing in nothing but underwear in the middle of your living room.

Rafael grabbed you tightly and tugged you down with him as he fell into a sitting position on the couch. You straddled his strong thighs, lips still hungrily devouring his.

He groaned lowly as your pelvis ground against his erection, the intense need for friction almost painful. His soft hands ghosted up your back, unclasping your bra with practiced ease.

You pulled away from him just long enough to send your bra flying across the room. Rafael licked his lips in anticipation before leaning forward to capture your nipple between his soft lips.

You sighed softly, fingers twining through his hair in order to hold him tightly against you. He used one hand to massage your other breast before switching to ensure both received equal treatment.

"Rafi," you whimpered as the need to feel him inside of you continued to grow.

"Si, hermosa?" he murmured.

You ground down against his erection again, silently telling him what you needed.

His hands immediately went to your hips, halting your movements. "I need you to tell me what you want, querida."

"You," you begged.

He smirked. "Puedes hacerlo mejor. Usa tus palabras." [You can do better. Use your words.]

If you were being honest with yourself, your Spanish was not nearly as good as it had been when you were younger...after all, you hadn't really spoken much Spanish since high school. Working with Nick Amaro, and now Rafael, had forced you to revisit your knowledge of the language in an attempt to brush up. Thankfully, you understood a hell of a lot more than you spoke, so you were able to piece together what he was telling you to do.

"I want you, Rafael, please."

"I'm right here, hermosa."

You glared at him, which earned you a patented smirk in response.

"Si quieres algo solo tienes que preguntar," he murmured softly. [If you want something, you just have to ask.]

You bit your lip. You weren't a shy person, but you had never been very vocal during sex in the past. Your partners didn't often ask you what you actually wanted, so you weren't even sure how to respond to him.

"I want you to touch me."

"Donde?" [Where?]

You realized he wasn't going to let you get away with not being explicit, but you couldn't quite bring yourself to say the words out loud. Instead, you grabbed his right hand and guided it between your legs, placing it firmly against your extremely damp panties. "Here."

Rafael smiled wolfishly. "Now was that so hard?" His voice was teasing, but there was a heat in his eyes that betrayed exactly how turned on he was.

He didn't give you a chance to respond as he pulled your underwear aside and slipped his fingers between your dripping folds. You gasped softly, hands gripping onto his shoulders for support.

"Is this what you needed, cariño?" His fingers gently toyed with your clit, providing some stimulation, but not exactly what you needed.

"More, Rafi, por favor," you begged.

In response, Rafael slipped two fingers inside of you, twisting his hand to form a come hither motion as he sought your sweet spot. His thumb provided the pressure against your clit that you so desperately needed and you moaned loudly as his fingers found your g-spot.

"There we go, nena. Te tengo." [I've got you.]

You clung to his shoulders as his expert fingers worked you closer and closer to the edge. You were almost surprised by the ease with which you felt your orgasm approaching--you couldn't remember the last time you'd cum from nothing more than a man's hands.

Rafael slid a third finger inside of you and began to add more pressure to his movements on your clit. The stimulation was exactly what you needed and you knew your orgasm was close. You were hesitant to tell him, but you also didn't want him to stop. "Rafi, I'm so close--please don't stop."

"I won't," he murmured, changing nothing about his current movements. "Quiero sentirte venir." [I want to feel you come.]

Your breathing was labored and your legs had begun to shake--a surefire sign of your impending orgasm. He could feel your walls squeezing his fingers and he couldn't wait to feel the sensation around his cock.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as your orgasm rushed over you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Rafael slowed his motions, but didn't stop until you began to whimper and squirm away from him.

He pulled his fingers out of you and lifted them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan of enjoyment. "Tastes so good, nena. Can't wait to taste you properly."

Your eyes widened slightly, having found the action extremely arousing. Your gaze then traveled down his body, landing on his still clothed cock. Your eyes flicked back up to his, your expression practically begging him to fuck you properly.

"Hay algo que quieras?" [Is there something you want?] he asked with a smile.

"I'd really like you to lose the boxers."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, enjoying your demanding tone more than he'd expected. "Stand up for me, querida."

You did as he asked, albeit slowly.

He lifted his hips and slowly tugged his boxers down, finally freeing his painfully hard cock. Your eyes widened slightly, gaze appreciative of his member. He was both thick and long, and the head was leaking enough precum to give you the strong urge to taste it.

Your eyes never left his cock as you tugged your own panties off, wanting to be just as deliciously naked as he was. You started to drop to your knees, but Rafael reached out and grabbed your arm.

"What are you doing, nena?"

"I wanna taste you," you answered softly.

He closed his eyes for a moment, swearing softly in Spanish under his breath. "As much as I would love to feel your pretty little mouth on my cock, I don't think I can take it."

You felt incredibly disappointed and your expression must have shown it because his gaze took on a slightly pitying look.

"Just a taste?" you pleaded.

He couldn't deny he wanted it as badly as you did--probably more so, but what really pushed him over the edge was the sound of your soft voice begging him. He didn't wanna say no to you--ever.

He released your arm with a soft sigh. "Está bien--just a taste." [Alright.]

You grinned, feeling pleased at having won. You dropped to your knees and gripped his cock in your warm hand, gently stroking him before leaning forward to lick the precum from the tip. Rafael groaned at the feeling, followed by a string of Spanish curses as you took his cock in your mouth.

The sensations you were providing him had him making more noise than you'd ever imagined. His fingers fisted into your hair and his hips jerked as you pleasured him--a feeling of pride settling into you as you listened to his moans. You felt powerful, having made the great Rafael Barba turn to putty in your hands.

His grip in your hair tightened and he pulled you off his cock much sooner than you would have liked--a groan of displeasure leaving your lips in protest.

"Get up here," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. It was the same tone he used in court when he was tearing someone apart on the stand.

You immediately did as he asked, once again straddling his thighs, but this time, you awaited further instructions. Everything about his demeanor oozed dominance and you were more than happy to slip into a submissive role for him.

He gripped his cock and slid the head between your folds, sending sharp bolts of pleasure through both of you.

"Dime que me quieres," he demanded. [Tell me you want me.]

"I want you, Rafael," you answered instantly.

He smiled at your clear willingness to obey. "Dime que me necesitas." [Tell me you need me.]

"I need you."

He leaned forward so his lips were inches from your ear. "Vas a gritar mi nombre?" [Are you gonna scream my name?]

"Si, Rafi! Please!" you begged. "Te necesito dentro de mi." [I need you inside of me.]

He rolled his hips up slightly, pushing the head of his cock into you. He held you tightly in place, not allowing you to move lower.

"More, please!" you cried, desperately trying to lower yourself onto him fully.

"Rogar por esto, nena. Dejame escucharte." [Beg for it, baby. Let me hear you.]

"Please, Rafi, please," you pleaded. "I'll do anything--please. Please just fuck me!"

His grip on your hips lessened just as he rolled his hips upwards, allowing him to plunge into you as you pressed yourself down on him. The tip of his cock brushed against your cervix, sending a jolt of pain through you, but pain quickly turned to pleasure as he began to move.

"You feel so good, querida. So tight and warm--made for me, weren't you?" Rafael murmured into your skin as he slowly rolled his hips.

You whimpered slightly, the slow pace not enough to soothe the burning ache within you.

He noticed the way you shifted, clearly seeking more friction, so he loosened his grip on you, allowing you more freedom. You gripped onto his shoulders, using them as additional leverage as you began to ride him properly.

Salacious sounds filled the room, a mixture of your bodies joining together and your shared moans and whimpers. Rafael's mouth nipped and sucked at your pulse point, your collarbone, and your lips--anything he could reach.

The position was enjoyable, but Rafael sensed you needed more--and he felt the need to take over. He pulled you in close to him, holding you tightly as he stood, flipping you onto your back on the couch.

You gasped in surprise, delighted at the change in position. Rafael immediately took charge, bending your legs towards your chest and thrusting into you hard and fast.

"I need to feel you cum, hermosa. Dime que necesitas." [Tell me what you need.]

You were a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him, and your brain was struggling to make sense of the words he was saying. It took you a moment to understand, but even then you couldn't find the words. Instead, you slipped your hand between your bodies and began to rub your clit.

Rafael pushed your hand out of the way, replacing it with his own. He'd be damned if he wasn't the one who made you fall apart. "Vendrás por mi?" [You gonna come for me?]

"Rafi!" you cried out--the only coherent thing you'd said in minutes.

Your pussy clenched down on his cock, squeezing him so tightly he nearly came on the spot. He continued to fuck you exactly as he had been, fingers still pulsing against your clit.

Moments later, you came with a loud cry of his name, wave after wave of intense pleasure crashing down on you as he rode you through the orgasm.

He removed his hand from your clit, using it instead to grip the back of the sofa, his other hand supporting his weight on the arm. He chased his own high, finding it a few seconds after you. He groaned your name as his hot seed filled you up, hips still pumping for a few moments before he collapsed on top of you.

You wrapped your arms around him as he came down, aftershocks wracking both of your bodies.

Once you'd both caught your breath, Rafael lifted his head to look at you. He smiled as he took in your fucked out appearance--evidence of your enjoyment written all over your face.

"You're so beautiful, querida," he murmured.

You blushed. "So are you."

He chuckled. "I'm not quite sure a man wants to hear that he's beautiful."

"Eres muy guapo, papi," you said with a grin.

His eyes darkened slightly. "That's much better."

He pulled himself up so he could kiss you properly. When he deepened the kiss, you found yourself heating up--the desire once again building in your core.

"How 'bout I take you to bed and properly worship you, cariño? Would you like that?"

Your eyes widened. "You don't have to..."

"I know, but I want to. I wanna taste that pretty pussy properly before I fuck you again."

You grinned a little, enjoying the twinkling in his eye as he looked at you. "Second door on the left," you stated, pointing down the hall.

"Perfecto," he murmured as he stood up. He leaned down and scooped you up in his arms, bridal style, and began to carry you towards the bedroom.

"Rafi!" you yelled in surprise, a soft giggle leaving your lips.

He tossed you onto your bed and crawled on top of you to kiss you deeply. "Now, if it pleases the court, I'd like to spend the next 15 minutes with my head between these sexy thighs."

Your cheeks blushed as you chuckled lightly. "It pleases the court very much."

He gave you one last grin before lowering himself between your legs and sending you to heaven as many times as your body would let him.