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erodasfishtacos · 1 month ago

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Conflict of Interests (roommatesbf!h)

prompt: yn knows that she has a bit of a crush on her roommate/friend's bf but until an opportunity is put in her lap, she tries her best to resist.

word count: 9k

warnings: not necessarily infidelity yet but there's some shady business, mff, fxf

author's note:

There is 3 more parts to this up on patreon.

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There are currently 350 + pieces available to read

Tier I - $3 USD where you get access to main stories, everything except the mini one shots.

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you can check it out here!

++ YN was pretty open, easy to say ‘yes’, and take risk but she wasn’t careless.

She weighed the reward versus the consequence, trying to make as much of an informed decision as she can before jumping in the metaphorical deep-end.

However, she had absolutely miscalculated and found herself reaping the consequences of her actions.

A ruined friendship, an empty second bedroom because said friend had moved out, and a few of their friends who were taking sides.

They weren’t on hers.

YN should have said ‘no’, at the time she knew she shouldn’t have, it would lead to nothing good because of how YN actually felt about Harry.

YN and Kay had been friends for years, meeting in senior year of high school when Kay had to transfer schools because of her father getting a job change.

They hit it off right away, deciding to room in college together, and now they had moved from a tiny dorm to more of a spacious apartment.

Kay and YN have lived together for three years at this point, they rarely had any issues, an occasional stolen yogurt or leaving laundry in the washer but nothing that shook the foundation of their friendship.

Until Harry walks into their lives.

Well quite literally walks into her bedroom while she’s getting dressed.

YN was going out to dinner with her family, her brother was in town and they were meeting at an Italian restaurant a few blocks down.

It was a fancier restaurant which meant that YN was buzzing around her room and connecting bathroom, hair and makeup done except for lipstick and hairspray.

YN had her high-waisted trousers already buttoned snugly against her hips but was trying to find a shirt that worked well with the dressy bottoms.

YN had a strapless bra on but the shirt she finds that she wants to wear looks better without, she tosses the shirt on the bed, and unclasps her bra.

She had just tossed it to the side, to put away later when her door opened.

It doesn’t initially alarm her, Kay has a tendency to not knock or generally respect the idea of privacy so when YN turns to see what she wants.

However, it is not Kay.

It is a man.

A stupidly attractive man whose eyes become as wide as saucers, his big baseball mit of a hand smacks over his eyes to cover them, and starts rambling an apology.

“Who the fuck are you?” YN screeches as she reaches for the first thing she can find, her fleece throw as she holds it over her chest, heart pounding.

“M’so fucking sorry, I-“ The man’s voice is low, a deep drawl and a bit morbid as he keeps his eyes covered with a tattooed hand.

“What’s going on?” Kay appears in the doorway, a smirk tweaking at the corner of lips, “Harry, I told you the door on the left.”

“This is the door on the left,” Harry replies in a higher pitch, which was still ridiculously deep as he stands there, trying to stay as still as a statue.

“Oh shit, I meant my left,” Kay giggles as she moves to tug at his elbow which he very resistantly starts to let her move his face covering, “She’s decent now.”

Harry blinks a few time, his cheeks were twinged a bright pink akin to the tone of bubblegum as he meets YN’s eye sheepishly.

“I am so sorry,” Harry apologizes again, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets, he was handsome - even if this sounded awful, completely out of Kay’s league.

It wasn’t that Kay wasn’t pretty, she was but Harry could have just walked out of some expensive cologne advert even in his jeans and black tee.

His tattoos were dark, no color to be found and it’s a contrast against his tanned skin like he had just been on a vacation with the golden tint.

“It’s okay. It’s completely Kay’s fault,” YN tries to crack a joke, easing the tension because though YN was actually quite proud of her body, she liked her breasts and didn’t mind who saw them - most of the time.

YN still managed to feel self-conscious about what Harry had thought because he looked like that and she felt a weird jolt of butterflies about it.

“But doesn’t she have the nicest pair of tits you’ve ever seen?” Kay nudges Harry, wrapping her hand around his massive bicep as best she can.

“Kay,” YN scolds as she holds the blanket closet, feeling super bare now.

“I’m just saying! I can’t help but stare when I see them,” Her friend shrugs, she had the tendency to be crude, crass, and frankly too much.

Harry has his bottom lip tucked between his two front teeth, eyes now not making contact with YN’s, “C’mon, Kay. Stop embarrassing her. It was an accident and I don’t want to objectify her.”

YN is oddly touched by his respectfulness, she felt like most guys would just openly agree with Kay which would have made her feel uncomfortable.

“Thank you,” YN replies, voice softer and the gaze she shares with Harry feels unusually intense before she’s clearing her throat, “Um, I need to put a shirt on.”

“C’mon, let’s go,” Harry tugs Kay in the direction of the door with one more apologetic glance before he’s closing it behind him.

YN’s stomach does a weird flip, what the fuck.

7 months later +

Harry and Kay are dating.

Which YN is a bit, scratch that, a lot confused by because they just seem like the most unlikely match but not just looks-wise.

Harry is quiet, doesn’t really talk unless he’s asked a question or has something to add to the conversation but he does not speak just to speak.

He does subtle things that he thinks people do not notice and usually don’t (YN does)

The way he will close a cabinet right by YN’s head so she doesn’t accidentally bump into it as she cooks without saying anything.

If he knows YN has a late day at work, he turn on a lamp in the entryway so she doesn’t have to stumble around in the dark and she knows it’s him because Kay wouldn’t be that thoughtful.

Plus she caught him once, he had awkwardly shrugged and said that he didn’t want her tripping and getting hurt before disappearing back down the hall to Kay’s room.

YN has a smile for quite a few minutes after that.

+_+

Kay and Harry are not affectionate which is interesting.

Kay was handsy, typically clinging onto her boyfriend at any time, and their group of friends groaning about the obnoxious amount of PDA.

Not them.

Harry did small gestures here or there like squeeze her shoulder or put his hand on her back, rarely throw an arm over her shoulder at a restaurant or bar.

YN also didn’t hear them from the bedroom.

Kay didn’t have a volume control button, it didn’t take detective-like skills to tell when she was being intimate with someone because of the noise.

It made YN’s skin crawl because it was obvious that they were over-exaggerated, high-pitched moans that made her roll her eyes and couldn’t believe the guys she brought home believed they were real.

But no, YN heard nothing ever.

And Harry was constantly over, Kay had told YN that Harry’s housemate was a nightmare which had him trying to get out of the house as soon as possible.

Harry was just…perfect.

YN knows she shouldn’t been thinking that but he is the closest thing to perfection that she has ever seen or met without a doubt.

On top of his thoughtfulness, he listened and was actually paying attention, no phone in his face, no half ass agreements.

Meanwhile, YN witnesses Kay constantly on her phone while Harry was trying to have a conversation with her - nodding and say “mhm” without looking up.

YN could see the frustration that he’s trying to taper down but that’s when she’ll jump in to let him know that she was paying attention.

The dimples that appear in his cheeks are all the reward that she needs to know that she’s doing that right thing.

Her heart aches a bit because of the crush she wants to have on such an off-limits person, so she’ll push it into the back, the darkest crevice in her mind.

Harry would most likely be mortified to know the shit thay YN thought while he was just trying to be friendly.

It was just that she couldn’t get a ready in them as a couple and that was driving her a bit insane.

Well YN was actually questioning whether she was crazy because she had moment where she thought that Harry was actually going out of his way to do things for her than his own girlfriend.

Then the bathroom incident happens.

YN really, truly didn’t know that Harry was here.

She heard the shower running and assumed that it was Kay in there.

YN and Kay didn’t have much off-limits, it wasn’t out of the norm for her to pop into the bathroom to brush her teeth or pee when Kay was in there or vice versa.

So YN doesn’t think much of opening the bathroom door to grab her hairbrush she had left in there but only she was not met with what she expected.

It was a standing shower, with a glass door which meant there was no privacy for the person if someone came in and holy shit.

Harry was under the stream with his head tilted down, he was running a washcloth over his stomach and holy fuck, she didn’t realize how built he was.

She hadn’t seen him shirtless before, yes, she could gather that he was in shape by the way his biceps flexed or how defined his thighs were when he wore shorts but this was unreal.

YN’s eyes find the harsh vee that is tattooed with laurels, that is leading downwards towards…

“I’m sorry!” YN squeaks out, halfway into the bathroom and her hand extended towards her brush but her muscles lock and she’s frozen for a good half minute, “Oh my god, shit!”

Harry turns at the sound, confusion momentarily crossing his face but he doesn’t seem bothered, does nothing to try to cover himself.

YN was repeating over and over to herself to not look there but she couldn’t ignore that’s where her eyes went first, wanting to continue because he was thick, heavy, and he wasn’t even hard.

YN turns to leave but doesn’t realize that she has stepped on Harry’s discarded clothes which means her foot slips out from under her.

She attempts to steady herself by grabbing the countertop but it is just out of reach as a yelp exits her mouth, falling into a lump of limbs.

Her lip is throbbing because her teeth sliced through the thin skin when she accidentally bit down, her fingertips coming to press against where the blood begins to dribble.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry curses as he watches all of this go down in the span of a minute flat, he’s reaching to turn off the faucet before he’s stepping out.

YN cannot fully appreciate Harry in his dripping wet, tanned skin, naked glory because her eyes are foggy with fat tears of embarassment and pain.

Harry grabs his towel, wrapping it haphazardly around his waist, threatening to slip off at any minute when he kneels down.

“Darling, what on earth?” Harry rasps, his eyes tracing her over, his hand coming to cup the side of her face as he holds her still.

He picks up his discarded shirt, pressing the soft cotton to her lip with pressure to stop the bleeding, his voice was comforting and entirely sweet enough to give her a toothache.

“You’re okay, s’okay. Calm down f’me,” Harry coos softly, stroking her hair as the other keeps the shirt against her lip, “I know, I know.”

Just the small little reassurances were digging YN into a deep, treacherous dark hole because she’d never had a boyfriend who would baby her as much as he was doing.

And that’s when YN realizes it, Harry has been babying her the entire time he’s been with Kay, and he just doesn’t do the same for her.

YN was too frazzled to delve any deeper into that right now.

“I’m so sorry, I thought it was Kay in the shower. I am so so sorry-“ YN is trying to tell him through choked sobs, unable to blink the tears away fast enough.

“Stop apologizing, dove. You didn’t know, the tears are killing me though. I haven’t seen you cry before and it’s just as heartbreaking as I would imagine,” Harry frowns, he was still dripping and it was dampening YN’s clothes.

“My lip hurts,” YN huffs out with a edge of a whine, god, it was so easy for her to fall into this baby role with him and let him take care of her, “And I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.”

“Why would you be embarrassed?” Harry asks as he dabs at her lip, checking to see how steady the flow of blood is before pressing it back.

“I just barged in on you showering and then ate shit, I’ve never had a worse moment of embarrassment,” YN informs him, her face felt hot and she had to stop herself from looking towards the split in his towel.

Jesus Christ, this was her friend's boyfriend and she was swooning like a girl with her first crush in elementary school - she needed to pull herself together.

“S’just me,” Harry murmurs softly, taking the shirt away and watching her mouth for a moment before sitting back, “Nothing to be embarassed by.”

YN and Harry make eye contact which makes her stomach flip in a way that it shouldn’t because he’s off limits but he’s nice and beautiful and naked.

YN swallows harshly as she fails to find a reply.

Harry takes his hand away which she misses as soon as it’s gone, standing up before reaching down to pull her up as well.

“Let me dry off, go change, and I’ll make us dinner, yeah?” Harry says as he brushes a strand of stray hair off of her forehead.

“Yeah,” YN agrees dumbly, hands still shaking and her heart felt like it had just run a marathon with how fast her blood was pumping through it.

“Will you be okay for a minute?” Harry is still checking, he’s a worrier and that much is obvious through his words and facial expression.

YN chuckles out a light snort, not her most attractive moment, “Or what, can I hold your hand and wait while you change?”

It was absolutely and completely meant to be a joke, a sarcastic quip because of course she was okay enough to walk to her bedroom.

Harry doesn’t smile, not really, his voice ever steady and morbid as he replies, “I don’t mind. S’nothing you haven’t seen before now. If it makes you feel better.”

YN throat tightens, the urge to flea was becoming stronger because he wasn’t being outwardly flirty, he was being kind but it still felt wrong - at least because YN was struggling to stay just friendly.

There was nothing in Harry’s words that were overtly sexual or persuasive, his demeanor didn’t give much of anything away either.

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” YN manages to tell him before scurrying out of the bathroom as fast as humanly possible.

Even more guilt came when she was undressing, resisting the urge to touch herself to the mental image of Harry stepping out of the shower.

Where the deep vee had lead into trimmed hair that got a bit darker, thicker around the base of his -

“Stop,” YN scolds herself as she tugs on new underwear.

Harry had made it a point not to objectify her when he accidentally saw her chest but YN was better than no man as her mind kept going back to the sheer size and beauty of Harry’s cock.

Anyways.

YN was a shit friend right now.

End of story.

YN takes a little bit longer than necessary to exit her room, feeling like she was doing a walk of shame when she enters the kitchen.

Harry was already chopping up veggies, a pot of water that wasn’t boiling just yet on the stovetop, and it was all very domestic.

YN walks up behind him, itching to put a hand of his back, rub over the lithe, bulky muscles there but instead drums her fingers against the countertop.

“Do you need any help?” YN asks, her voice sounded relatively back to normal by now.

Harry glances over at her, his smile faltering slightly as he puts down the knife, and brings his thumb to her bottom lip again.

“You really did a number on yourself, dove,” Harry tells her, displeased as he traces over the puffy skin, eyes still studying her face.

YN’s heart rate spikes up like she didn’t just spend the last twenty minutes trying to regulate so that she didn’t feel like she was going to pass out.

It was impossible for her to decipher right now if Harry was just genuinely an affectionate, touchy person or whether he was flirting with her.

Not once has YN seen Harry touch her in the same way he was doing to her now - delicate, careful like she was made of the most breakable china he’d ever held.

There’s a jostle at the front door, a key turning into the lock, and YN jumps back out of his hold as he drops his hand, picking up the knife once again.

YN sits down at the kitchen table instead of trying to help, unlocking her phone, and trying to dissociate at whatever pops up on her timeline.

“What is this?” Kay laughs when she walks in, dropping her purse on one of the chairs as she smiles at YN before walking over and wrapping her arms around Harry from the back.

Harry…doesn’t stop cutting the vegetables but does tilt his head to the side look at her, she leans up to kiss his cheek before peeking over his shoulder, “Stir-fry?”

“With shrimp,” Harry tacks on as he turns back from her to focus on his work, his demeanor wasn’t necessarily drastically different but still…different.

Kay didn’t seem disgruntled by his attitude as she rubs his back for a few moments which YN tries to not get jeaous about because it’s not her place to be.

Then she’s plopping down in the chair beside YN, “Sorry, I forgot to text you and tell you I picked up an extra shift. Harry didn’t get the memo until he was already here.”

YN glares at her friend, “I know. I thought you were home, showering, and barged into the bathroom. Only to invade Harry’s privacy.”

Kay lets out a peel of laughter, eyes twinkling and completely unbothered, “It’s even now, right?”

“Huh?” YN asks, not sure what she meant as Harry turns around after adding the lo mein noodles to the boiling water, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed.

There was slight amusement at the tilt of his lips.

“He saw your tits. You saw his dick,” Kay shrugs with another hearty laugh, “You’ve got amazing tits. He’s got an insane dick so-“

“Kay,” Harry cuts in, a bit curt and disapproving, “It was all an accident. We don’t need to go into detail about what we all looked like naked.”

“Well you’re both hot and I’ve seen both of you naked, maybe I’m feeling a little inferior. I have a bombshell best friend and the hottest boyfriend. It makes me feel like chopped liver.”

Kay was looking for validation, specifically in Harry but he was not feeding into her behavior, “Kay, this really isn’t appropriate. Let’s drop it.”

It was not a suggestion.

However, that’s how Kay saw it.

“I’m just bragging, H. Chill out. Does it not inflate your ego if I talk about how big your dick is?” Kay was immature, admittedly and no better than a crude man on her best days - her thought patterns more perverse and blunt than most females.

“Kay,” Harry’s voice is sharp, a tone YN hasn’t hear before as he puts down the knife, “Let’s go to your room for a minute.”

YN sits awkwardly at the table, any butterflies from the interaction with Harry earlier we’re completely gone because of this.

YN could heard Harry’s voice raise, he wasn’t shouting but it was louder than his normal range of volume which lead her to believe they were fighting.

Kay was immature, Harry couldn’t train that out of her, and that’s why YN was surprised when she went for someone like Harry because she usually dated boys younger than her by a year or two - they matched maturities better.

YN stands up, walking over, and taking it upon herself to continue to chop the veggies while politely trying to ignore any of their conversation.

When they walk back out a few minutes later, Harry comes up beside her, just slightly bumping his hip against hers, and saying quietly, “Thanks, sucha good helper.”

It should sound patronizing but it doesn’t, Kay isn’t in here yet, and YN wonders if he would have said that in front of her.

Kay comes back a few minutes later, mood the same, and clearly trying to act like she didn’t just get chewed out by Harry as she makes small talk about work.

YN struggles to sleep that night.

Her stomach was rumbling because she didn’t indulge in too much of the stir-fry that he had cooked because of the tension between the couple.

Kay was making passive aggressive jabs in her ever cheery cadence while Harry gave her a very serious look, jaw twitching as he harshly chewed.

YN hid out in her room for the rest of the night.

Now it was biting her in the ass because she was starving.

As YN pads out, she has to go through the living, not thinking much when she flips the switch so that the floor lamp in the corner will illuminate some of the space.

There’s movement that makes her jump.

Harry was on the couch, YN had clearly woken him up as he stretched, trying to blink and adjust to the light as he takes in a deep inhale.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” YN turns off the lamp quickly, basking them in darkness again and muttering, “I can find the kitchen without the light.”

YN then proceeds to bump her thigh extremely hard into the side corner of their end table before she’s toppling over for the second time that day.

“Fuck, pet,” Harry curses, his voice sounded different, thick with sleep and a rasp that made it sound like he was a smoker, “What are you doing?”

Harry leans over, turning on the lamp, and squinting until he sees her on the floor, concern crossing his face as he pushes himself off the couch, and knelt beside her.

YN has tears prickling in her eyes, that really fucking hurt, she had already busted her lip today, and god, she looked like such a fucking idiot.

Harry’s voice goes soft again, like he’s just found an injured baby animal, “Oh darling, c’mon. These tears are too much. S’heartbreaking.”

“I just-“ YN hiccups, clutching her thigh that’s pulsing with her heartbeat, “I keep embarrassing myself in front of you and I don’t know why. Plus, my thigh hurts.”

Harry’s frown deepens, “You never need to be embarassed around me. Two times I’ve given your a surprise, s’on me, really. Let’s go put some ice on that.”

Harry helps YN up, guiding her to the kitchen and she yelps when she feels his big hands on her waist, placing her on the kitchen counter.

She was very aware that she was only wearing a big shirt with no pants on, a soft very tame pair of gray panties, and she flushed further.

Harry grabs a bag of frozen green beans, wrapping it in a hand towel, and taking it upon himself to nudge her shirt up her leg until he can place it in the injury.

“Why were you sleeping on the couch?” YN asks while she holds the bag in place, ignoring the ache.

Harry leans against the counter, opposite her, “Kay and I weren’t getting along. I decided to sleep on the couch so that we could have some space.”

“If this is about earlier, about the shower thing-“ YN begins to apologize.

“No, no,” Harry shakes his head, sighing heavily as he runs his hand through his hair, “We’re going through a rough patch in general. We’re just trying to get through it. We’re different in a lot of ways, we butt heads a lot.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you can make things work,” YN replies softly, free hand picking at the raggedy hem of her shirt.

“Yeah,” Harry bites the corner of his lip, “Why are you awake?”

YN blinks at him, sheepish as she admits, “I’m hungry. Dinner was tense and I wanted to give you guys space. I didn’t eat enough.”

Harry’s expression becomes one of disapproval, “Pet, s’not a reason not to eat. Let me make you somethin’ as an apology.”

YN shakes her head, “You don’t have to do that. I can get something myself.”

“Please? It will make me feel better,” Harry insists, standing back up straight and scratching at his stomach, his hair a bit haywire.

He was so fucking attractive it was sickening.

And this man was sweet to her, offering to cook her meals, and exceeding any of her previous boyfriends - they weren’t even dating.

YN couldn’t determine whether Harry was flirting or just being kind, he didn’t treat Kay like this which was the off thing.

The exact opposite, it actually seemed cold and distant most of the time towards her, his patience limited and his mood dropped.

“Do you like pancakes?” Harry asks, already moving to the fridge to pull out ingredients, “I have a special recipe from my gran that makes ‘em extra fluffy.”

“I have an awful sweet tooth,” YN hides her eyes with her hand for a moment, “I’ll never say no to pancakes, especially if you add chocolate chips. You better be careful, I might fall in love.”

YN freezes because that was definitely not the best thing she could have said, her eyes go wide and lips part in her own surprise.

“I better make them with chocolate chips then,” Harry says casually as he turns to open the cabinet like YN didn’t just nearly have a heart attack nor like she didn’t have to squeeze her thighs together.

YN watches his back as he cooks, the defined muscles flexing when he stirs the batter.

“More,” YN orders from her seat on the counter, swinging her feet.

It felt horribly romantic when he turned around, a mixing bowl in the crook of his arm.

“No more, s’not a dessert,” Harry chides as he reaches over to sprinkle a few more into the mixture like he was easy for her.

“Thank you,” YN hums with a smile, she wishes it wasn’t late because soft music in the background would be even better.

When Harry pours two onto the hot pan, he doesn’t turn around and he keeps his voice steady, “I wouldn’t guess Kay and you would be friends.”

YN shouldn’t but she does, “I wouldn’t guess you and Kay would date.”

Harry shakes his head with a chuckle, “We are not very similar, are we?”

“No, usually Kay dates people very much like herself,” YN tells him, fingertips dancing against the countertop.

“Which is?”

YN bites her lip, trying to say it in the most gentle way, “I love her but she…marches to the beat of her own drum, she doesn’t take things too seriously, and can be reckless. She has a history of dating guys who are younger, don’t have their life planned out.”

Harry turns to look at her after flipping the pancakes, his eyes were intent but he didn’t seem offended by the words she spoke.

They weren’t meant to be offensive, they were the facts.

“And what am I?” Harry raises his eyebrow, “A too serious, stuck up prick?”

“Precisely,” YN grins wide enough that it takes up her entire face.

Harry narrows his eyes before they’re darting down to the bowl of batter.

“Harry, no,” YN laughs, trying to keep it down because Kay was sleeping and she really should be in her own room right now.

“Mm, I think so,” Harry swipes his finger in the mix before stalking forward.

YN had nowhere to run because she was still sat on the kitchen counter but she fruitlessly tries to scramble backwards.

Harry’s hand comes to her ankle, wrapping around to hold her as he leans forward and swipes it across her cheek as she kicks weakly at him.

“There we go,” Harry smirks as he moves back, not taking his hand away from her ankle, thumb pressing right under the bone.

YN and Harry both get quiet, chests moving quickly from the struggles, and she’s never felt this much sexual tension before in her life.

Harry’s other fingers press in, she finds herself wishing that they would move upward, it would be easy because she didn’t have anything beside underwear on her lower half.

When YN lets her limbs relax, her leg falls more into his grip, toes bumping at his hip, and his hand moves further to his calf.

They both seem to snap out of it at the same time, Harry is letting go and clearing his throat as YN pulls her leg back.

He turns back to the pancakes, sliding them off pan and onto an awaiting plate.

Harry takes a minute before he’s turning around again, eyes the slightest bit unsure, and YN doesn’t want there to be any awkwardness.

To dissolve the tension, she swipes her thumb along her cheek before popping it in her mouth, “Could use more cinnamon sugar.”

“S’plenty sweet,” Harry grunts as he hands it to her.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to but I haven’t had pancakes in forever,” YN doesn’t use her fork, picking it apart with her fingers and dipping it in the syrup.

Harry turns off the stove, placing the pan and mixing bowl in the sink, running some sudsy water in it as YN eats happily, her thigh no longer hurting - she thanks the chocolate chips for that.

“You’re starting to get sleepy again, huh?” Harry murmurs as YN hands him the empty plate, she nods in agreement, and she slips off the counter, tossing the frozen bag back in the freezer.

“Thank you,” YN mumbles, rubbing at her eye.

“Let me check your leg first,” Harry tells her, kneeling down in front of her, and holy shit, that was a sight for sore eyes to have him blinking up at her, “Yeah? Okay?”

“Okay,” YN’s mouth was dry like the sahara desert.

Harry lifts the hem of her shirt up to her hip, exposing her underwear a bit more than necessary but the thing is, she wanted him to see.

If Kay walked in right now, there would be no excuses, no justification that she would believe because of the heavy way they were both breathing and staring each other down.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry curses with a rasp, his fingertips pressing into her thigh, far enough from her injury that it doesn’t hurt.

YN thinks he’s referring to where she had bumped her leg but when she follows his gaze, it’s on her center where sure as shit there was a spot of her arousal.

Her eyes widen, embarrassed by his find, embarassed by how much she wants his mouth there - she’s never felt such a carnal craving like this before.

“I…” YN’s voice is breathy, high-pitched as she swallows down a whine of pure desire and deep, aching want.

She finds herself burying her fingers in his hair, it was partially to ground her, mostly to guide him towards where his eyes were set.

YN has never, repeat never, been so brazen in her life.

Her brain had shut off the part of her that had morals.

Harry is leaning in as she tugs at the roots of his hair, closer to her center where the want for him was tangible but he’s suddenly jolting back.

“We can’t. You know that, pet,” Harry sits back on his haunches, he scratches his jaw before pushing himself up off the floor.

He runs his hand through his hair, stress visible in his features as they tighten and the smile he gives YN was strained - his dimples didn’t pop.

“I’m sorry,” YN feels like a baby when her bottom lip starts to wobble, she should know better and it sucks how much she likes Harry.

“Don’t cry, s’my fault. Please don’t cry, darling,” Harry voice is hushed but soothing, he steps forward but YN takes a step back.

“I need to go back to my room, okay? We can act like none of this happened,” YN is a shit friend, but how would she even explain this to Kay?

YN doesn’t wait for a response, she’s turning on her heel, and booking it out of the kitchen - straight towards her bedroom to scream into her pillow.

YN tries to stay out of the house for a few days, going out with friends, taking an overtime shift at work, anything to avoid seeing Kay and Harry.

However, her luck runs out on day four when she’s comes home after her friend had to cancel plans due to a work thing and she had no choice but to head home.

Kay and Harry were on the couch, her feet were in his lap, and his hands were resting on her calves - there was no other cuddling and it looked rather platonic.

Neither of them look thrilled, but they at least give her a smile when she walks into the room.

While she’s in the kitchen, mixing ingredients for a salad together, she can hear their hushed voices, and it sounds tense once again.

Kay is speaking a bit louder, Harry has a bite in his tone that she has never heard but she couldn’t quite make out what they were talking about.

However, after another minute of their bickering, the front door shuts, and Kay is walking into the kitchen with an uneasy expression.

“I want to talk to you about something,” Kay starts as she sits on the countertop, her eyes only sporadically looking towards YN before darting away.

Oh shit, she knows.

She fucking knows.

YN is about to speak, to apologize, to grovel.

“This is really out of the blue. I don’t expect an answer from you right now or anything,” Kay is looking down at her hands, surprisingly vulnerable, “But I have a major favor.”

“You know I would do anything for you,” YN replies, putting down the mixing tongs and trying to regulate her irregular heartbeat from the spike in anxiety - this is where she gets caught, for what exactly, she doesn’t know but what happened a few nights ago in the kitchen wasn’t right.

“I…You’re bisexual, right?” Kay is visibly nervous, her fingers were trembling, and she was about to bite a hole through her upper lip, trapped between her teeth.

“Yes,” YN doesn’t know where this was going.

Kay knew this.

Kay had met girls YN had gone out with as well as guys.

“I…Fuck, just forget it,” Kay huffs out, acting like she’s about to slide off the counter to leave.

“You can tell me anything, come on,” YN reminds her, moving closer to rub her shoulder.

Kay looks at her hand on her shoulder, taking in a deep gulp before asking something that YN didn’t see coming from a million miles away.

“I want to try…being with a girl, you know? I just feel like there’s no spark sexually between Harry and I. I felt like there wasn’t one with a few of the last guys I dated too and I’m starting to think I’m the issue. Harry is gorgeous, sexy but I just…I don’t have a desire to jump in bed with him.”

That makes one of us, YN thinks.

“Kay…I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” YN pauses, she felt shaky now for a different reason.

“Will you…god, this is so fucking lame but I trust you. I want to hook up with you,” Kay blurts out finally, eyes wide and unsure, she was being vulnerable right now like she didn’t know how YN was going to respond.

YN swallows a gasp of surprise, of course it’s a surprise hearing that one of her best friends wants to sleep with her, to experiment.

“Is that what you and Harry were fighting about?” YN asks instead of giving her an answer, she needed more information before she said yes.

Kay was cute, attractive but wasn’t YN’s type. It wouldn’t necessarily be a hardship to hook up with her but she can say that it has never crossed her mind that she would want that.

“Not really,” Kay shrugs mulishly, “We discussed it. He doesn’t think that it’s a good idea that it’s with you, you know? But I feel comfortable with you, I don’t want to go out and find a random girl to try it out with.”

YN flushes at the thought of her having this conversation with Harry, with Harry telling Kay that it wasn’t a good idea, “He wants you to go hook up with a random girl?”

“He supports whatever decision I make to try to figure myself out a bit more. He didn’t tell me I could or couldn’t do anything but he wants to be there,” Kay adds another bombshell, like this already wasn’t insane enough.

“What?” YN’s eyes were wide as saucers.

This had to be a prank.

This was not real life right now.

Kay laughs nervously, “I know it’s insane, okay? Harry and I aren’t the norm though. Not at this point, I don’t know what I want but I don’t want to break up with him. I’m being selfish and he for some reason or another loves me enough to see this through.”

The thought of Kay and Harry talking about love makes her stomach churn when she has no right to feel nauseous thinking about that.

“He suggested I find someone we could have a threesome with,” Kay was finally starting to make more consistent eye contact but YN doesn’t think she’s ever seen her this unsure of herself as she picks at her bottom lip.

“And he is okay with it being me?” YN clarifies, it’s not for the right reasons, she wants to know that Harry wants her just as much - it’s not right.

“Like I said, he thought it would be better if it was someone less close but I always really thought that you were attractive and…yeah,” Kay trails off before actually answering the question, “He said that if I ended up choosing you, that would be okay with him too. He didn’t care either way.”

YN feels like an asshole for feeling disheartened about it, that he wasn’t jumping on the chance to sleep with her without any strings attached, it made her feel a bit anger like he was leading her on but she was quite sure that she wasn’t imagining things.

“I’ll do it, yeah,” YN agrees with a wary smile, “Anything to help you out.”

“You’re the best,” Kay squeals, suddenly excited and all the nervousness that had seemed to have left her body as she jumps off the counter, and very unexpectedly steps into YN’s space, cupping her cheeks, and bringing her in for a kiss.

YN’s freezes for a moment, just taken aback by the action but Kay’s lips are soft, she doesn’t want to push her off and make her feel embarrassed, and it had been awhile since she had any intimacy so it wasn’t unwelcome.

Kay tasted like something sweet as she parts her lips, YN finds herself slipping her tongue into her mouth, and though the feeling isn’t nearly as fiery as it was when Harry just merely touched it, it still felt nice.

YN doesn’t know how long they stay like that, YN with her hips pushed back against the countertop, and Kay boxing her in, hands not wandering much, keeping one of the side of her neck, and the other on the curved space between her ribcage and hipbone.

Long enough that someone clears their throat and makes them jump apart.

Harry.

He was back, with a bag of groceries in his hand, and a downright scary expression on his face.

His eyebrows are knitted tightly together, a crease in the space that exists, his lip was twitching to hide the way he was grinding his molars together but the flex of his jaw gave away what his was doing as he loudly lets the bag spill onto the table.

It’s almost worse that he does not say anything or acknowledge it.

“I’m making eggplant parmigiana,” Is all the he says, without looking at either of them, and unloading this onto the countertop surface with a bit more force than necessary.

YN knew her lips were puffy, swollen from how into Kay had been.

It was…nice but YN wasn’t necessarily disappointed that they got interrupted either, she wasn’t dying to do anything further either.

Not like how she would have done just about anything to have a few more minutes with Harry that night.

YN questions whether any of this was true, whether Kay really did discuss it with Harry because by the way his shoulders were bunched up and his movements were sharp and almost agitated, it really didn’t seem like he was okay with sharing his girlfriend.

“I’m going to go out for a bit,” YN wasn’t planning on it but she really didn’t want to be in the middle of whatever conversation was about to happen.

“YN, no. You don’t have to,” Kay starts to assure her, glaring over at Harry like she wants him to change his attitude but he doesn’t look at either of them nor does he give any input as he starts to take items out of the bag.

“No, I had plans already,” She lies, quickly retreating from the kitchen and into her bedroom.

It’s no surprise when she hears their voices travel back towards her bedroom, they’re not yelling at each other but it’s definitely not a gentle, easygoing conversation if the way it echoes is anything to go by.

YN frantically texts a few friends, begging to see if anyone was willing to go to eat or get drinks because she wanted to try to be out of the house as late as possible tonight, hopefully not getting home until both of them were asleep.

YN is lucky enough that her friend, Mindy, invites her to tag along to a work outing that they were having to celebrate the startup company’s anniversary.

It was at a bar in the middle of the city where the drinks were comped and it was easy to let the liquor slip down her throat, again and again as she took advantage of the free alcohol to ease the mindfuck that had happened to her earlier.

Did Kay really suggest those things?

Did Kay really kiss her?

YN drank until those questions became a bit quieter and she became a lot more fuzzy.

YN was still happily buzzed when she was dropped off by the uber at her apartment building's doorstep, not drunk enough that she stumbled as she made her way in but not sober enough that she didn’t have to squint at the numbers on the elevator panel until they made sense.

YN was uncoordinated on a good day so any alcohol just made that amplified, it was a mission to try to riffle through her small clutch to find her housekeys - it was a tiny bag, where could they be?

She tries the doorhandle just to see if they had left it unlocked but they didn’t which makes her thump her head against the wood of the door as she blearly brings her clutch closer to her face to dig through, her lip gloss falling to the ground.

“Shit,” YN huffs as she leans down, hearing the click of the lock being turned and the door is opening.

YN stands up to see Harry at the door, a pissy expression on his face but he doesn’t look like he has been sleeping despite the late hour, it had to be past two in the morning by this point because she truly did lose track of time.

He doesn’t say anything but steps aside to let her in.

“You’re killin’ my buzz,” YN grumbles as she steps through the doorway, leaning down to attempt to unstrap her heels but then she actually does trip over her own feet like a baby deer learning how to walk on new legs.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Harry replies in the most morbid, monotone drawl - not one ounce of sincerity in his voice.

When she stumbles again, Harry grips her arm, “Enough. Sit down. I don’t need you getting injured for a third time for fucks sake.”

YN frowns, she doesn’t like how cold and distant he sounds but she does like the pressure of his hand on her body.

She easily obliges, sitting down on the entryway bench, and he kneels down in front of her.

YN’s heart rate spikes because it’s extremely reminiscent of that night.

“Kay kissed me,” YN blurts out, trying to keep her voice down, unsure of whether her friend was still awake but she highly doubted, she regrets the words as soon as they slip out, she didn’t mean to throw her friend under the bus but she didn’t want Harry to be mad at her.

Harry bites at the corner of his lip as he undoes the strap around the ankle of her right foot, slow and methodical, focused without looking up at her, “Did you want her to kiss you?”

YN is a bit taken aback by the sharpness of his tone.

When she doesn’t respond, he blinks up at her from under his lashes, his eyes were unfairly pretty under the yellowish light from the fluorescents of the lamp on the entryway table - green with nearly golden specks, flickering through and highlighted.

“Did you want her to kiss you?” Harry repeats, cold, distant, nothing like his norm.

YN doesn’t know how to reply.

Honesty is the best policy and the warm liquor that was running through her veins was helping the cause that would have normally been much harder for her to speak her mind. YN feels fat tears welling up in her eyes, the kind that sting, mixing her makeup into the saline that starts to make her blink furiously - using the heel of her palm to roughly swipe them away.

Harry slips off the first shoe, setting it neatly to the side before looking up at her again, waiting for the answer, “Tell me.”

Her bottom lip wobbles, it’s hard to maintain the intense eye contact that he was giving her as she shrugs, mulish and unsure, “It was unexpected.”

Harry seems to hesitate for a moment, “Did you enjoy kissing her?”

YN squeezes her eyes shut, hoping that Kay didn’t hear, hoping that he didn’t repeat this to Kay.

“It wasn’t bad,” YN skirts the question.

Harry puts his hand on her knee, gripping gently, “Talk to me. I know she threw a lot at you at once.”

“You don’t want me to be involved,” YN huffs, childishly enough like she was dealt an injustice.

Harry’s teeth grit like they did earlier, his fingertips pressing in slightly, “I never said that. I said it might not be the best idea because you two live together and are close. However, she clearly doesn’t take my advice, stemming from the fact that she calls you her ‘bisexual awakening’.”

YN raises her eyebrows at that, Kay hadn’t specifically said that, sure, she mentioned that she thought that YN was attractive but it had not been specifically mentioned that she had that much attraction towards her.

“What do you want?” YN’s nearly whispering now.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, it’s not about me,” Harry deflects, YN’s realizing that he’s really good at that.

“What did you think when you walked in and saw us?”

“It’s not important. You agreed, right?” Harry clarifies, moving now to take off her other heel.

“I did,” YN swallows, blinking down at him, her heart felt like it was going to give out.

“You know why I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Harry meets her gaze again, intense and unwavering.

“You just said because we’re close,” YN repeats what he had just said.

“There’s a much bigger reason it’s not a good idea and you know that,” Harry face is serious, terse as he slips the strap from the small golden buckle. “Say it,” YN replies, unsure where the bravery came from, maybe she was just tired of him being constantly vague and noncommitall, “Tell me why then. Spell it out.”

Harry’s eyes become stormier, he places the heel next to it’s pair before sitting up further, until he suddenly moves.

His hand coming up to cup her neck, just like Kay ahd done but it was with more intention, not the timidness or hesistaation that her friend had, this was pure confiddence as he uses his grip to pull her face closer to his.

YN’s lips instantly part in a surprise, quiet gasp, and instinctually she parts her legs to give him room to situate hiself in between her, to get closer.

His lips are just about to touch hers but then he stops, “This is why it isn’t a good idea.”

Then he’s pulling back, standing up, and stalking back down the hall away from her without another word.

What the fuck.

++++*_

Thoughts?🫣

#harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harrystyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fic

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 5 months ago

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Changed Future (3) : Yandere Isekai

Part 2

The parents of the protagonist were shunned by their child because of their violence and nonchalance about the practices of the higher echelon of society

Apparently, their love story wasn’t that different than the one that started with Haruko

Except that a small punishment went much further than not eating a day or two

They were much bloodier

Much more similar to the rivals who suffered before their untimely deaths

The parents were now seemingly more in love than anything

But the cracks were there

And the protagonist was front and center for all of it

But ultimately they ran away, declining their inheritance and their parent’s wealth to succeed

Unfortunately, though it seems they’ve come to reenter their—now your life

As though Haruko, Det.Cape, and CEO Revmere weren’t enough

“Dearest baby-child of mine~ who is this?”

“I’m Haruko–” “Shhh no stop it!” “-their lover.”

“Finally we get to meet you, they were always so elusive when they swooped in and swept you away.”

“Crazy thing about that little darling (Y/n) we too have let our new addition have some new freedoms as well. Say hi Beattle!”

“Uh hello n-nice to finally meet you.”

If there’s anything that you match with the original protagonist it’s their disgust and annoyance with their family

Their parents love story was a lot more violent when it came to ‘breaking’ the other in

You couldn’t recall which one did what but even with meeting them now

You can tell they’re just….off

“Honey, you have something on your face! Let me lick it off!”

“Oh really then you should have something so that I lick it off too!”

“You vixen, you remind me of that one time when your covered in blood and you licked me then too.”

“Awww remember when I shot you and I licked the bullet hole.”

“Oh my gosh! Stop it!”

“Yes, please tone it down.”

If the newly arrived parents isn’t worse enough there's the new additions

“I have a lot to learn before I can truly be a part of your family but I hope we get along.”

“Right….did they kidnap you?”

“Wow! Really straightforward! They did say you were incredibly bright!”

“So they did…if you want I can call the police.”

“No! No! I’m here willingly…now.”

“Right.”

“And I hope you’ll accept your new brothers!”

“What?!”

Could this insane author squeeze any more yanderified tropes in this story!?!!?

“Poor (Y/n) you look exhausted. Did Haruko give you a hard time leaving?”

“Not this time…it’s my…family.”

“Oh my.”

“They’ve brought their insane relationship at the worst time. I’m trying to fix myself and be better and then they just–”

��Shhh, you're safe here (Y/n)...I know you said as your ex-employer we really shouldn’t have any other relationship but I think we’re bound to be much closer.”

“What?”

“The point is you can stay here to avoid your family for as long as you like.”

“Thanks? Revmere.”

“Please call me, Filip.”

“Okay…Filip.”

The mess of it all leaves you exhausted

And easy to manipulate

Usually with isekais the whole power of it is that you can see outside the story

Minimize characters' feelings and break it down as nothing but plot

But you're stressed

Every which way you’ll find that a yandere is there trying to capitalize

And eventually, it’s just a matter of who can tone it down first

Naturally, that’s Revmere er Filip

Who has the space and security to invite you someplace without the others following

And between his time as a negotiator and as someone who worked closely with the protagonist he’s perfect at talking everyone down

You just need someone to rant to and he’s perfect for it

Bashing down everyone who you call out even if he agrees

“Can you believe it?! When I finally get my parents to settle like a bunch of babies, Haruko demands we do something intimate!”

“Unbelievable, he’s such a pervert.”

“Right?! What weirdo sees that oddball freaking couple and thinks ‘maybe this is the night you let me take it farther than kissing!’ Ugh!!!”

“Like can he keep his hands to himself.”

If he were in his position–roommate? Ex-boyfriend? Tenant? (You literally won’t tell him)--he’d want to get to go far past that

But that’s just him

For now, he’ll settle to wine and dine you while you become a frequent visitor at his

It’s so easy for Filip to offer your fifth glass of decade-aged wine and catch your falling body against his

He’s just fighting with himself about putting you in the satin pajamas he has your initials on (of course changed to include his own)

But he reminds himself to take it slow, after all, he does have the best chance at getting your heart

“You know I’d love to offer some insight on (Y/n)’s situation, maybe with my guidance you can help reunite the family.”

“I-I’d love to hear it! This Haruko is okay but I think my…partners are worried about if he can properly take care of them. Like they took care of me.”

“Well, I hope we can both provide some… much-needed insight.”

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megumishotgf · 1 year ago

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more and more (jjk mainly) fic recs (pt. iii)♡

hello and welcome to more of my fic recs!! credit to all these talented writers, pls check out their other works too!! featuring: (jjk) megumi, yuuji, satoru, suguru, toji (mha) katuski (lmao just for the one post because it NEEDED to be shared) masterlist recs pt. i pt. ii

: ̗̀➛ megumi fushiguro x reader

megumi thinks about how whipped (he is while impatiently waiting for you to text back)

fucking megumi in his baseball uniform (lengthier fic with dom! megumi... omg)

sharing a bed and cuddling (so soft i'm crying. i'm unsure if i've linked this before)

racer a.u. w/ bf megumi (in physical agony because i need this)

megumi is obsessed with yuuji's bimbo gf (i love LOVE love bimbo reader fics AHH)

: ̗̀➛ satoru gojo x reader

your kid shows you an ugly drawing (similar to the katsuki scenario i linked last time, so funny!!)

satoru comforts you after you have a nightmare (so fluffy and sweet... i'm bawling)

age gap w/ satoru, he teaches you to fuck (younger reader. god i love this)

satoru proposes to you :(( (i'm crying)

satoru fucking his chubby gf (help my pussy's gone crazy)

more satoru w/ chubby gf (so so much praise)

: ̗̀➛ geto suguru x reader

arguing with then fucking your ex suguru who is now a cult leader (omfg)

suguru fingers you during movie night w/ satoru and shoko (wow this fic definitely hit the spot. one of my favourites on this list)

'no one's made me cum before' (now this is relatable)

you're babysitting nanako + mimiko and are about to fuck their dad (ahhhhhh)

y/n is insecure and can't tell suguru ('it's not what he's made for' some heavy angst for the sick fucks that enjoy it)

step brother! suguru teaches you how to kiss (this damn fandom makes me read so much stepcest. disgusting! *saved immediately*)

suguru wonders if he should cut his hair (fluffy!! but the last line made me want to burst into tears!!)

: ̗̀➛ toji fushiguro x reader

smutty fic w/ crybaby reader (it's me i'm the crybaby. this author has SO many good toji fics, i linked one of their prison bf fics last time!!)

toji is so so big but he makes it fit (major size kink!!)

: ̗̀➛ yuuji itadori x reader

finally fucking roommate! yuuji (i am shocked this doesn't have more likes it was such an incredible read)

virgin! yuuji headcanons (he's just so whiney and such a good boy. omg i love fics where y/n is the more experienced one)

giggly sex drabble (the best type of sex i need more fics like this)

yuuji can't jack off to jennifer lawrence anymore because of YOU! (i think this initiated a yuuji phase for me...)

: ̗̀➛ katsuki bakugou x reader

gq couples quiz w/ katsuki (i am shocked this doesn't have ten thousand likes. it's perfect the characterisation is perfect. pls check out the creator's masterlist here everything is so so good)

multiple characters (jjk drabbles)

using your safe word (satoru + suguru)

boyfriend texts (satoru, suguru, kento, toji, megumi, yuuji, toge + choso)

riding, missionary or doggy? (satoru, suguru, kento, toji, choso. btw the right answer is doggy)

bf texts (satoru, suguru, kento, toji, choso, megumi, toge + yuuji)

unholy drabbles!! (toji, satoru + kento)

cute texts during your period!! (satoru, choso, toji, megumi, yuuji, toge)

: ̗̀➛ also multiple characters (drabbles w/ unspecified names then characters listed at the end? i don't know how to describe this sorry lol)

eating you out sloppily omg (aot + jjk + genshin + demon slayer)

tits, ass or thighs? (bleach + jjk + jjba + one piece + csm)

men that are obsessed with thick women (jjk + kny + aot + tokyo revengers)

general fucking headcanons (jjk + aot + haikyuu + tokyo revengers + genshin + sk8 + csm)

quick question!! should i still link the really successful fics / blogs (like 4k+ notes, some have up to 15k!!), as i'm sure you will have already encountered them in their respective tags? in other words, should i focus on linking fics that are less interacted with? pls let me know <3

#jjk x reader #mha x reader #megumi x reader #yuuji x reader #satoru x reader #suguru x reader #katsuki x reader #toji x reader #jjk fic recs #jjk drabbles

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oddinary4bts · 7 months ago

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Chasing Cars | teaser (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: alcohol consumption, curses

☆word count: 1.1k

☆a/n: teaser time babyyyy!! I hope you guys love it :') thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

The hour is late. Jungkook is tipsy, far more than he thought he’d get tonight, but then again, Taehyung is not in a better state, and Sera, Jimin’s girlfriend, had to force him to go home before they got too drunk.

They’re all supposed to help Taehyung’s little sister move in tomorrow, Jungkook included.

“Man,” Taehyung lets out, and Jungkook looks away from the game of Smash they’re playing - that he’s majestically losing - to focus on Taehyung.

“What?” he lets out.

“Can’t believe Y/n will be here tomorrow,” Taehyung answers.

“Can’t believe you’re forcing me to live with a girl.”

Taehyung chuckles. “Don’t worry, Y/n is chill.”

Jungkook doesn’t doubt she is, considering how well he gets along with Taehyung, and Taehyung’s made it seem that he gets along well with his sister. He imagines Y/n’s just going to be a mini Taehyung, which frankly could be fun to have around.

But he doesn’t know anything about her other than the fact that she is Taehyung’s little sister.

“You know,” Taehyung adds as the game finishes. “I meant to tell you something.”

Jungkook cocks his pierced eyebrow in question. “Yeah?”

“Just wanted to say that if you touch my sister, you’re fucking dead.”

Jungkook bursts out laughing, shaking his head, but Taehyung remains entirely serious. Like he meant what he just said - could he?

“You’re joking right?” Jungkook asks as his laughter fades away.

“No, I’m dead ass,” Taehyung insists. “You breathe in her direction, and you’re dead.”

“Damn.” Jungkook widens his gaze, and then picks up the beer he’s been slowly drinking since Jimin left. “Understood.”

Hell, Jungkook knows that he sleeps around. Taehyung does the same - he can’t help but understand Taehyung when he says to stay away from his sister. And he thinks it’ll be easy. Y/n’s probably just going to be a clueless baby college kid, and though Jungkook doesn’t mind going for younger, he’ll have plenty of new faces to explore once Frosh week starts next week anyways.

So he promises Taehyung he has nothing to worry about, and they play a couple more games before they head to bed.

Jungkook wakes up early the next morning, the sun shining right in his face the most efficient alarm he’s ever used before. He wants to go to the gym before helping Taehyung’s sister, and though he hates being awake so early, he immediately forces himself to get up lest he falls back asleep.

His workout goes well, and he’s pleasantly sore when he heads back home. He’s lucky - he manages to park not too far from the apartment. He’s walking home, gym bag in one hand and his phone in the other, when Taehyung texts him to ask where he is.

Jungkook types ‘Fuck off’, pressing send as his attention is solely on his phone.

Until said phone flies out of his hand as he collides with a girl he didn’t notice, and Jungkook watches in horror as the device falls in a flower bed.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you say, and you immediately dive into the flower bed, retrieving Jungkook’s phone.

You hand it to him, and Jungkook just stares at you, mouth agape. He’s aware he’s staring and that he probably looks stupid, but he’s dumbfounded.

You’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and he’s seen a lot.

“Don’t worry about it,” he answers quickly when you cock an eyebrow, your cheeks slowly turning red. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“At least it didn’t break,” you say, and you flash him a quick smile.

It does things to his heart that Jungkook barely comprehends - it’s like his heart is going miles a minute, yet it’s soothing, warm, much like the pavement feels in the summer when the sun has just dipped below the horizon.

“Right, yeah,” Jungkook answers, and his cheeks burn.

His cheeks fucking burn, and he wishes he could just disappear, dive below the ground until you can’t see him anymore. You just keep on smiling, eyes never disconnecting from his, and he wonders if you, too, feel like he does.

Shit, he thinks he might even hear bells in the distance.

You glance away, and it’s like he’s falling forward while not moving at all, and all he can do is pathetically clear his throat, as if that’s going to offer any help.

“I see you’ve met Y/n!” Taehyung yells from behind you, and Jungkook freezes.

Jungkook freezes, and then something burns in his lungs, like he’s under the surface struggling for futile oxygen he knows he won’t find.

You are… Taehyung’s sister.

You’re Y/n.

His best friend’s little sister.

The one thing Jungkook can’t have.

It makes him feel cold, his heart suddenly dropping in the Arctic sea amongst the icebergs.

“We literally ran into each other,” you say, looking back towards your brother.

And Jungkook sees it - your hair is the same shade as Taehyung’s, your face has the same shape. The smile though - your smile is different from Taehyung’s, and maybe that’s why he was fooled.

Fooled for a few seconds which felt like an eternity.

You walk away then, heading to the open back door of a car. You grab a box, and Jungkook puts his phone in his pocket, eyeing a bag on the backseat.

“Do you want me to bring this in?” he asks.

Only because he wants you to look at him again. His heart flutters in his chest when you do, and he forces it down with a swallow as you nod once.

“Yes, please!”

Jungkook nods too, and he grabs the bag before following you in. His right foot lands on the first step leading to the apartment when Taehyung stops him with a hand on his arm.

Jungkook frowns slightly, meeting his best friend’s gaze.

“I’m serious, JK,” Taehyung says through gritted teeth. “You fucking touch her, you’re dead.”

And Jungkook knows right then and there that he’s fucked. Entirely, thoroughly, immensely fucked.

Because he already wants you, and he hasn’t even talked to you for more than twenty seconds.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures Taehyung, and he hopes Taehyung can’t hear how fake he sounds.

How is he supposed to resist indulging in you when he already knows you’re all he’s ever wanted?

He really is entirely, thoroughly, immensely fucked.

☆☆☆☆☆

Read chapter one here!

What did we think? Are we excited to read?? Let me know here!

Taglist: (strike-through means dumblr isn't letting me tag you)

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@cookysstuff | @02010802 | @kookieleshgo | @biaswreckersinc | @hera19

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#chasing cars teaser #chasing cars #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook #jungkook fic #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #btswritersclub #jeon jungkook #chasing cars series

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puckinghischier · 8 months ago

Text

Locksmith - Nico Hischier

nico hischier x fem!reader, jack hughes x platonic!reader, luke hughes x platonic!reader

summary: reader has been friends with the hughes brothers for years, and when she finally arrives in Jersey to move in with her best friends, she finds herself locked out and stuck in the hallway, with only the neighbor to save her

notes: this is my first time ever writing ANYTHING, so this could be terrible. BUT it’s really only a peek at where i want the story to go so possible series if anyone actually wants to read it??? 🫣

part 2, part 3, part 4

[2.4k]

You know, three suitcases didn’t seem like enough when you were packing, but trying to roll three suitcases down the long, carpeted hallway is proving to be one of the most difficult tasks you’ve ever had to do in your life.

Seriously, the building didn’t look this long from the outside.

After a trek that felt like miles, you reach the door you’ve been scanning for, only to find it locked tight. “I swear to god I’m literally going to kill them,” you said to yourself, out loud. “They tell the doorman to let me in, have me bring all this luggage up by myself, only to leave the fucking door locked. Why did I expect anything less?”

Grabbing your phone, you dial Jack’s number, silently begging him to pick up. You know he’s at a charity thing with Luke, but surely he’s allowed to answer his phone, right? Wrong. His phone goes straight to voicemail, twice. Classic Jack. You know there’s not any point to calling Luke, he always leaves his phone during charity events in order to connect with the kids better. Usually you find that endearing and admirable, but right now you wish that he was maybe just a bit more selfish.

“Well, I guess I live in the hallway now. Hope the carpet is plush enough to sleep on.” You’ve always had a habit of talking out loud to yourself when you’re nervous or, in this case, annoyed. It helps you work through your thoughts and not dwell on anything for too long. Purges your emotions a bit.

“Trust me, it’s not. Speaking from experience here, you’d be much better off sleeping on the couches in the lobby” a voice startles you.

“Oh my god,” you jumped. You turned around to see the door to the apartment behind you wide open, a dark haired man leaning against the doorway, smile on his face.

“I- how long have you been standing there?” you asked, hand on your chest trying to calm your racing heart.

“Long enough to know you’re thinking about sleeping on the carpet, not long enough to know why,” he states, humor lacing his tone.

“Well, if you must know, my roommates left the door locked, no spare key, and won’t answer their phones. So, until they get home, the hallway is my new bedroom,” you surveyed the stranger.

He was tall, much taller than you were. He wore a simple white t-shirt, black sweatpants, and a backwards hat on his head, hiding what looked like hair that was in need of a trim based on how much it was spilling out the sides of the hat. But what made you stop in your tracks were his eyes. You don’t think you had ever truly understood the phrase ‘warm eyes’ until now. They were the most spectacular shade of brown you had ever seen in your life. And they were filled with amusement. Amusement directed towards you, since he had just heard you talking to yourself like a madwoman.

“Ahh, you must be Y/N! I thought Jack said you weren’t coming until tomorrow?” He asked, understanding washing over his face.

“I caught an earlier flight and was going to surprise them. However, Jack texted me earlier this morning and told me he and Luke had to go to a charity skate, so I had to tell them I was coming early. He told me he’d leave the door unlocked so I could go ahead and settle in, but, as you can see, they did not,” you explained, only slightly shocked Jack told his neighbor about you. That boy sure liked to talk, yapping anyone’s ear off who would listen.

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to have a spare key you can use,” the stranger tells you, walking out of your view for a brief moment.

“Should I be concerned that the neighbor has a spare key? Does he just go around handing out spares left and right?” you ask, starting to feel a bit awkward standing among all of your luggage.

“No, not exactly,” the man laughs. “He gave me a spare after one too many nights of me hauling him home from the bar only to realize he didn’t have his key with him.”

He walks out of his apartment, a small golden key in hand. The stranger, whose name you forgot to ask, unlocks the door and stands back with a warm smile on his face.

“There, you just got upgraded to a real bedroom,” he recalls, standing in the now open doorway.

“I would say thank you, but I’m still a little concerned that a strange man just had to let me into my own apartment,” you (semi) joke, attempting to gather your suitcases.

“I’m Nico,” he explains, taking the suitcase you were struggling to heave into the apartment.

“Oh, you’re the captain!” you exclaim, recalling all the times Jack and Luke had talked about their beloved leader to you. “Jack never mentioned you lived next door!”

“That’s me. I only just moved in about a week ago. Was looking for a place closer to the rink and Jack told me about his previous neighbors moving out, so I decided to move in. Nice having them just across the hall. They’re like the little brothers I never had,” Nico pronounces brothers like ‘brudders’. You nearly forgot Jack had mentioned he was from Switzerland, too distracted to have picked up on his accent before now.

“Yeah, they seem to have that effect on people, huh?” you understood the sentiment behind Nico’s words all too well.

You’ve known Jack, Luke, and Quinn since you were all kids. Your family owned the lake house next to theirs when you were growing up. You spent every summer with them up until Quinn got drafted to the Canucks a few years back. Then Jack to the Devils, then Luke following Jack. Your families grew incredibly close to one another over the years, though. Trips to visit the other outside of the summer months became a regular occurrence. Trips to watch their hockey games, traveling to watch Luke play college hockey, and attending their drafts. These three were the brothers you never had but always wanted. They treated you like their own sister from the very start.

“They especially have the annoying aspect of younger brothers perfected,” Nico replied, both of you fully inside your new apartment now.

“God, don’t I know it,” you laughed.

Looking up, you finally took in your new home. Geez, this place is nice. It shouldn’t surprise you, really, with how much Jack and Luke both make, but the apartment is like, really nice. Definitely out of your price range, by likely a couple thousand dollars. You suddenly feel bad that Jack refused to let you pay any share of the rent. You had fought him on it, several times. He insisted that they had the spare bedroom anyways, and they had no trouble making rent as is. You demanded that you contribute in some way, so you were now tasked with grocery shopping and cooking for two professional hockey players. Honestly, after seeing the meal plans the team nutritionist gave them, it might be a fair trade.

It's only as you look over towards the kitchen at the thought of having to go grocery shopping soon, you realize Nico is still there. He’s just standing there, watching you take in your surroundings, lost in your own thoughts.

“Well, thanks for not letting me waste away in the hallway. And helping me with my luggage. I think someone from TSA filled my suitcases with rocks or something. I swear it didn’t seem like I had that much stuff when I left home,” you explain, not knowing what else to say to the stranger.

“No problem, seriously. I feel like I’m over here more than I’m at my own apartment, anyways. Jack is always calling me to come over or insisting that we have to watch game film together after practice. It’s a little concerning how obsessed he is with hockey. I mean, I’m the captain of the team and I feel like I spend less time thinking about work than he does,” Nico chuckles, not seeming to want to end the conversation just yet.

“God, don’t even get me started. I’ve had to listen to him ramble on and on about hockey for years. I’m just glad someone else finally understands my pain.”

“You know, the only other subject he seems to talk about as much as hockey is you. And his family, but according to him the two are one in the same. Every time I’ve seen him this week, which is nearly every day, he’s updated me on the countdown to when you were set to arrive. He’s seriously excited to have you here. They both are. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name,” Nico reveals.

You and Jack had always been the closest out of the three brothers. With your age falling directly in-between Quinn and Jack, you and Jack had the most common interests as a kid. Quinn was always trying to be the grown one, not concerning himself with whatever you and Jack were interested in while growing up. As teens, Quinn was always training or going off by himself to do who knows what. Luke was still slightly too young to go off with you and Jack alone, so it was usually just the two of you embarking on your own little adventures on those summer days. Once Jack got his boating license neither of your parents would let Luke go out on the water without them. So, more often than not, you and Jack would take the boat to God knows where in the middle of the lake and spend the whole day there, not returning until after dark. Those days were your favorite to think back on. The conversations between you and Jack never ceased to flow. From hockey, to your boy troubles back home, to whatever girl Jack wanted to impress that summer, to what your lives would look like one day, to always vowing to be in each other’s lives, even if he became a big shot hockey player that lived on the other side of the world.

“Yeah, well, he always has been the sentimental type, no matter how hard he tries to deny it,” you chuckle, a fond smile finding its way onto your face.

“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around, Y/N. If you ever find yourself faced with sleeping in the hallway again, you know where to find me,” Nico drops his eye into a wink, walking over to the door and opening it once again.

“Thank goodness someone around here understands the severity of the situation at hand. Me and my back thank you,” you wave your arms around for dramatic effect, walking to take hold of the open door as he steps into the hallway and back into his own doorway.

“Welcome to Jersey. We’re glad to have you here,” Nico turns to face you after he’s back in his own apartment, a genuine smile settled on his face.

“Thanks, Nico. It’s good to be here,” you respond, matching his smile, thinking of how well it suits him.

———————————————————————————

“Y/n!!!! Where are you!?” you hear, currently elbow deep in suitcase number two, trying your hardest to unpack everything. You really don’t know how you managed to fit so much clothing in three suitcases. Or how you ended up with so many clothes to begin with. You stand up and start making your way to the door of your bedroom, hand on the doorknob as it flies open, revealing a very excited looking Jack and Luke. You suddenly feel your body flying forward, face hitting a clothed shoulder.

“Ow! Jack, that was my nose!” you tried to say, but everything was muffled because of how tight your body was being held in place. Seriously, he acts like he hadn’t seen you in years. You were literally here a few months ago to visit and arrange plans to move in. Leave it to Jack to always bring the dramatics.

“Just a few more seconds, I missed you,” he mumbles, squeezing even tighter, if that was even possible.

“Jack, no fair! Quit hogging her, I missed her too!”

“Luke, please save me. I might suffocate soon if he doesn’t let go,” you beg the younger brother.

“Oh my god, will you two quit being dramatic? Can’t a man be excited his best friend is finally moving in after months of waiting?” Jack whines as he releases his hold on you.

“No one said you couldn’t be excited, Rowdy, but suffocating me two minutes into living together might not be the best way to show your excitement,” you say, smoothing out your sweatshirt and making your way towards the open arms of the younger, yet much larger, brother.

“Oh Moose, how have you been? Have you been getting enough sleep?” You question, always worried about his wellbeing, especially these past few weeks.

“Yeah, m’alright. A little tired, but we have some home games lined up soon. I’ll catch up on sleep then,” he responds, squeezing you a little tighter at the end of his sentence.

Luke’s rookie year has been a rollercoaster not only for him, but for you as well. You worry about the youngest Hughes, having such a soft spot for the boy. You know he’s talented, and you know he’ll do well, but you can see the exhaustion on his face and in his actions. You know he carries the weight of the foul comments he receives about his gameplay, and you try your hardest to take some of it off of his shoulders.

“Alright, but now that I’m here just know I’ll be holding you to that,” a stern look on your face.

Turning back around towards Jack, you find him surveying your room, looking over the mess you created in the few hours it took for them to return home.

“So, are you going to spend the rest of the day unpacking, or can we go have some fun and celebrate the fact that you live in New Jersey now?” Jack spoke, looking at the pictures you decided to display, most of them pictures of you and the brothers throughout the years.

“I mean, I was hoping to get as much done today as I can, but I’m guessing you’ve already made plans, huh?”

“You would be correct. We’re leaving at 8, be ready,” is all Jack says, before dragging Luke out of your room.

#nhl oneshot #nhl blurb #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nico hischier #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier fanfic #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier x you #luke hughes #jack hughes #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier one shot #new jersey devils #hockey imagine #hockey

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mingigoo · 1 year ago

Note

hi sie!! i'm happy to see that your requests are open and would like to request something myself c: 1. seonghwa 2. roommate au 3. prompts 11 and 17 4. with spice please 🙏 thanks so much! i rly appreciate you and your writing even if you can't get to this 💕

I hope you like this!!! really enjoyed writing this one :)

— sleep-talker || p.sh (m.)

“You know you sleep talk?”

“Stop looking at me like that.

🌊pairing ⇢ (fem) reader x roommate! Seonghwa

🌊 summary ⇢ when you and your friends decide on a trip to the beach for spring break, you get stuck rooming with the man you "hate" the most. The line between love and hate is as thin as ice, and you were about to break it.

🌊 genre/au ⇢ roommates au, vacation au, one bed trope, forced proximity au, smut

🌊 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ minors DNI, wet dreams, fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, PDA, "enemies" to lovers, one-bed trope, teasing, jealousy, intense tension like holy hell

🌊 word count ⇢ 10.2k words

🌊 taglist ⇢ @jjhmk @yesv01 @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @yukine-smx @y00nzin0 @8tinytings @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts (please let me know if I forgot you!)

masterlist

ateez masterlist

“Are you for real right now?”

Spring break. A time for rest, relaxation, and lots and lots of sex.

And now, your plans of being a whore for the vacation were ruined.

“Yes, y/n. I can't afford another room just for you to have to yourself,” Hongjoong, your older brother, mumbled as he stuffed the last bit of clothes into his luggage. “You’ll have to room with Seonghwa. San and Wooyoung already called each other.”

He zipped up his suitcase and stood up to leave, but he couldn't get off that easily. “Please, Joong. I’ll do anything. Cant I just room with you and Mingi?” he hastily made his way out of his room and into the living room, trying his hardest to get away from you. “I’ll sleep on the floor. No blanket, just the floor. Please.”

He turned to face you, a confused expression on his face. “Why are you so adamant about not staying with Hwa? What did he ever do to you?” he asked you, genuinely curious. The truth is, he did nothing to you personally. Maybe that was why you hated him, because god, if he gave you the time of day, you would pounce on him like a cat in heat.

You groaned, running a hand through your messy, unwashed hair. “Because he’s a dumb ass jerk that gets everything he wants.”

Hongjoong laughed at you and turned away. “It's only a week, y/n. He’ll probably spend most of his time in our room, anyway. Just bring a book to read or something to distract yourself.”

As if reading is the thing you'll be focused on if you were in a room with him. Oh Nah, you'll be wishing he’d walk around shirtless and hoping he somehow takes a shower and walks out with nothing on—

“I hope you're packed and ready….” Joong trailed off as he looked at your messy exterior, and stifled a laugh. “And if you're thinking of getting laid, you might want to shower.”

You slapped him on the shoulder, having no drive to shower. You'll get one when you get there. It's not like you were that stinky.

“Shut up, dickhead.”

You stood on the sidewalk of your apartment building, Hongjoong’s little yellow Geo Tracker sitting there lookin’ all cute. However, the tiny thing only had five seats.

There were six of you.

“Welp looks like I can't go! What a shame, what a shame,” you sarcastically yelled out, tossing your hands in the air exasperatedly. “Have fun without me!”

“Shut your mouth, will you?” Hongjoong groaned, tossing your luggage into the “trunk” or whatever it was. “It's only a ride to the airport. You can sit on someone’s lap for ten minutes.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why am I the one that has to do that? Wooyoung is like the size of my arm. He can do it.”

Joong shut the trunk with force at your comment, totally disregarding you. “Hop in,” he said. “Enjoy shotgun while you have the chance.”

You got in reluctantly, even though you were very excited about the beach itself. Your excitement was short-lived as you approached the devil’s lair.

“Stay here, I’ll go help them,” Hongjoong mumbled, pushing his sunglasses up on his forehead as he put the car in park.

You nodded, your arms crossed over your chest. You didn't mind the rest of the group— San and Wooyoung always knew how to make you laugh, and Mingi was absolutely eye candy. You wouldn't mind sitting on his lap on the way to the airport.

Just as you got comfortable with your head resting against the window, the door abruptly opened, causing you to nearly fall out of the vehicle. “For fuck’s sake, who the hell—” your words got caught in your throat as you met eyes with Park fucking Seonghwa. “Oh, it's you…”

He stood there, his thin torso draped in a sheer white top and his long, lean legs covered in a pair of black pants. You swallowed your drool like a schoolgirl, making sure he never knows how you think of him.

“What?” you raised your eyebrow, not moving an inch and not even reaching to unplug your seatbelt. “This seat’s taken, buddy.”

He snickered, his lips mockingly curled up in a sneer. “Oh, aren't you a sweetheart? Now move, I called shotgun.”

“Well, I did first.”

“No, you didn't.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No.”

“Yes—”

“Neither of you are getting shotgun,” your brother laughed from behind Seonghwa, San and Wooyoung giggling like the goofs they are next to him. You still didn't move, even as Joong approached and unbuckled your seatbelt for you. “Y/N, please help me out here.”

You debated on throwing a fit, but knowing that it would just cause more problems, you sighed and pushed yourself out of the front seat. Now standing on the curb of the sidewalk right in front of Seonghwa, you tilted your head up to look him in the eyes. His gaze was intense—it made you envision what it would be like in bed, looking down at him from above, and how his eyebrows would knit together in pleasure. God, you needed to get laid this vacation, or you were going to be suffering from delusions.

Without warning, Mingi pushed through both of you, interrupting your staring contest.

“We better go, I don't want to listen to their bickering any longer,” the tall boy huffed as he plopped himself in the front seat, a proud smile resting on his lips.

San sat in the backseat on the right, Wooyoung next to him in the middle. That left either you or seonghwa to fight to the death for that last seat, but you knew how this was going to end.

And it wasn't going to end well.

—

“You comfortable, y/n?” your brother called from the driver’s seat, looking back at you through the rearview mirror.

You frowned so deeply you could've sworn your face was permanently stuck like that.

There you were, in the back of the car, in the most uncomfortable seat ever. Seonghwa groaned underneath you, his bony body not offering you any wiggle room. You didn't answer your brother, you were certain your expression was enough of a response.

You adjusted yourself on Seonghwa’s lap, looking out the window for any distraction. As you moved, you felt him move his hips, and you had to shut away your filthy thoughts about him as soon as they came. Between his movements and his groans, your stomach was knotting in something more than butterflies.

The car was filled with conversation, however, you and Seonghwa remained quiet and in your own little worlds. As the others bantered, you pushed yourself up further on his lap, grimacing as you heard him let out a grunt in your ear.

And then when his hands gripped onto your bare thighs, you were the one to gasp.

“Stop moving,” he whispered in your ear with haste, almost like a sneer. You kept your vision forward as his breath danced in your ear. “It hurts.”

You swallowed hard. “Oh? Is your little dick that sensitive?” you whispered back, smirking. You moved again, this time on purpose, feeling his bulge through his pants. You kept your cool, ignoring his shaky breaths from behind you. “Are you that happy to see me, Hwa?”

“Shut your mouth or you won’t see the sunrise,” he hissed, but his voice was weak.

The ten-minute ride felt like an eternity as he breathed underneath you, your mind constantly thinking about how hard he was getting underneath you and how sweet it would be to turn around and face him to see his reaction to you.

You looked to your right, seeing Wooyoung with a knowing smile on his face. “What?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, grinning. “Nothing, nothing,” he said, letting out a giggle. “Just that you both seem…cozy.”

You slapped him on the shoulder, your movements causing Seonghwa to wiggle underneath you.

“Dammit, Y/N I told you to stop moving,” he seethed, his grip on your thigh tightening. Hongjoong looked back through the mirror, worry in his expression.

“Everything okay?” he asked, meeting your eyes before focusing on the road once again. “We’re almost there, only about a minute or two.”

“Ten-minute ride my ass,” you mumbled, and as you entered the Airport, you should've known that there were going to be speed bumps on the way in….

The shitty old car hopped over the bump, feeling like it hit a huge boulder. You bounced up, not held by any seatbelt, landing hard, right on Seonghwa’s family jewels.

“Fuck,” he cried, tossing his head back against the headrest. Your hands were now holding onto his legs for dear life.

“Joong, will you slow down for those things? Some of us are suffering back here,” you said, to which seonghwa started laughing.

“You're telling me.” he scoffed.

“Okay okay, I just have to park. I have no idea how this works….where the hell is the long-term parking—”

“Probably over there,” Mingi pointed in the opposite direction.

“No, no, I think it’s—”

“I can't take this anymore!” you cried out, leaning forward to assist Hongjoong since Mingi isn't helping. “There's a huge sign in front of us. How can you miss that? It spells it out, dammit.” you huffed, throwing yourself back into your “seat.” This time, he didn't let out a single groan, probably just as fed up with you as you were with him.

Finally, Hongjoong found the lot and parked the car, and as soon as it was stationary, you tossed yourself out of the vehicle like there was no tomorrow. You knew that you couldn't last a minute more on his lap, because if you did, you would be so tempted to turn around and make out with those painfully pretty lips of his. God, he made you so mad. Ever since you met him, there were only the same thoughts circulating round and round.

Dirty thoughts.

Seonghwa crawled out of the car like a decrepit old spider, his long legs holding up his body with grace. You bit your lip, looking down at where you were sitting on him. Quickly, you looked away as he noticed your gaze, and ran away to go help the others with the luggage.

You weren't quick enough to miss the achingly attractive smirk on Seonghwa’s face.

Why did he have to be so….. libidinous? He was like a wild animal, able to take the lives away of his prey with just an expression.

No more seonghwa on the brain—it was beach time. You were certain you could find someone at a bar to sleep with later, and it wouldn't be Hwa.

Not now, not ever.

—

You got lucky with the plane ride.

Your seat buddy was Mingi, and Hongjoong knew how much you like your window seats.

Mingi nearly slept the whole flight, his head rested against your shoulder. He snored a little, but it didn't matter. The gentle giant had a place in your heart, so he could do no wrong.

You often stole glances at Seonghwa across the aisle, his head bobbing up and down as he fought his tiredness. He was so much more likable when he was sleeping, but that was definitely due to the fact that he couldn't stare at you with those entrancing eyes or run that mouth of his.

You were the only one awake by the end of the flight. It was difficult for you to sleep in public places. It didn't feel right. So you would fight off sleep as hard as you could and distract yourself with anything around you.

After the fiasco of leaving the plane, you anxiously trailed behind Hongjoong through the busy airport, pushing past loads of people who had places to be. Thank goodness you were able to leave the airport without a fuss, even if seonghwa was nearly breathing down your neck as you exited.

Luckily, the ride to the hotel wasn't far—and there were more than enough seats for all of you. You distanced yourself from Seonghwa, ignoring his hellish gaze.

The hotel you were staying at stood tall, facing the gorgeous blue ocean for a perfect view. You shut your eyes as you took everything in, smelling the saltiness and the warmth of the air. You smiled to yourself, but your delightful moment didn't last long.

Seonghwa bumped into you purposely, digging his shoulder into yours before walking past you toward the hotel entrance. “Hey, what was that for?” you growled, a scowl on your face.

“You were in the way,” is all he said, not even bothering to turn to face you as he spoke. He continued walking, his beautiful silhouette showing through his sheer shirt. Oh, you wanted to tear it off of him so badly.

You let out a huff of air, but then followed your friends into the building, knowing the end was near if you had to share the room with your snack of choice.

Hongjoong went up to the front desk as you and the boys stood near the doorway, waiting for him to check us in. It didn't take him long, and soon enough, he was walking back over, key cards in his hand, and a bright smile on his face. “All checked in! This’ll be our home for the next week.”

San grabbed his key card first. “Are we all on the same floor? Like in a row? It would be no fun if I had to actually put on clothes to go on the elevator.”

“Yes, San, we’re all on the same floor.” Hongjoong held in his laugh, already clearly enjoying his time away from reality. You stood angrily with your arms across your chest next to seonghwa, who didn't look any happier than you. “And will you two brighten up? You’re killing the vibe.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing up at the boy next to you. His dark hair was slightly frizzy from the humidity, sticking to his forehead like it would if he were sweating. You gulped, thinking dirty thoughts once more before regaining your peace of mind. “I’m not doing anything. It’s all him.”

“No, it’s all you, not me.” he retaliated.

“You’re the one that got a hard-on from me just innocently sitting on your lap.”

“You were purposely shoving your ass on me like a freak—”

“You are ruining the vacation already—”

“Annnd we’re not doing this again,” Mingi sighed and then gripped onto your arm to pull you towards the elevator.

“Let’s go, we got bars to get wrecked at.”

—

“Oh, hell no.”

You dropped your luggage as you entered your room for the week, staring at what was in it.

Or lack thereof.

One bed—a queen, maybe, sat in the middle of the room. A chair was tilted by the sliding glass doors that opened to the balcony, and a lamp stood in the corner. It was cute, of course, but you thought this couldn't get any worse.

Seonghwa walked past you into the room, setting his suitcase on the floor by the chair. “Don't worry,” he hummed, his voice low. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“I–” you paused, taking in a breath before continuing. “You can sleep on the bed, I ain't that mean.”

“So you think I’m going to let my best friend’s sister sleep on the floor?” he laughed, but it wasn't out of humor. “That’s funny. I’d get my ass beat.” He sat down on the floor, stretching out his long legs before opening his suitcase. “Just forget about me like you usually do and take the bed.”

You had no snarky remarks to throw at him this time, your eyelids feeling heavier than ever. You sighed, sitting down on the bed with a thud. “Okay, fine. Wake me up when we are going to leave.”

“Yeah yeah,” he snarkily replied, too focused on his luggage in front of him. You shut your eyes slowly, holding on to your consciousness a little longer, before drifting off into a sleep that would cause an unexpected uproar a few hours later.

—

After your amazing nap, you and the boys found your way to a beach bar, sand filling the floor and loud music playing in the background. You took your rightful spot at the bar, sitting right next to Wooyoung, who was already chugging a fruity margarita.

“You should try this, Y/N,” he let out a satisfied sigh after he finished his gulp. “Tastes like fucking unicorns and rainbows.”

You laughed. “Sounds divine, but I’ll pass and get my whiskey sour.”

He grimaced. “Ew, you should spruce it up a little bit sometimes.”

San sat down on the other side of him, a fancy glass in his hands as well. “Yeah, you’re kind of a bore.”

“San what the—”

“She is, isn't she?” Seonghwa hummed from behind you, and of course, sat his ass in the chair right next to you. You groaned, ignoring him once again, although it was quite hard to not drool as he gulped his beer, his throat bobbing as he drank it.

Fucking hell.

You looked around for any sign of your brother to save you, and once you saw him, you cringed, turning right back around to face the bar. “Dear god, can't he keep his dick in his pants for five minutes?” you shivered, trying to think of anything else other than your brother making out with a random person.

Seonghwa looked back, a smirk on his face as you ordered your drink. “Hypocrite. Just last week I walked in on you with Mingi in the chem lab,” he snickered, his midnight eyes catching the neon lights behind the bar. “Your tongue was so far down his throat I swear I—”

“Says the guy who I caught watching porn freshman year in the computer lab—”

“Here’s your Whiskey sour,” the bartender awkwardly interrupted, but thank god he did. You quickly chugged it, finishing it within a minute of getting it. He gave you another right away, and you downed that one as quickly as it came. He was cute, a little on the scruffy side, but definitely a good one-night. You gave him a look, feeling accomplished as he smirked a little before serving someone else.

“Maybe you shouldn't drink so fast, y/n,” San murmured from Wooyoung’s side, his strong arms holding his weight against the table. “You get drunk really quick on an empty stomach. Remember what happened last time? You have a bad habit of trying to kiss everything you see.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, setting the empty glass down on the bar. As you did that, you felt the warmth of the alcohol fill your body. “What? Who did I kiss?”

Seonghwa laughed from the other side of you while you focused on San.

“Me.” San blinked. “Tongue and all. But not just me, you kissed the statue outside our campus. You know, that really rusty one?”

You gagged. “Ew, no. stop. No, I didn't.”

“Oh, yes you did,” Seongwha piped in, sipping on his third or fourth beer. “And then you threw up on my shoes when I brought you home.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, taking his beer right out of his hands. “Phew, thank god I didn't kiss you,” you shivered, bringing the bottle up to your lips. After you started chugging it a little bit, Hwa ripped the bottle away from you.

You felt your vision start to sway from the alcohol. You loved the feeling of being drunk—just hated the hangovers. Right now though, you wanted to get wasted and go home with a stranger. The hangover will be tomorrow’s problem.

But seonghwa had to just run his mouth once again.

“You know you talk in your sleep, right?” He laughed, a full, humorous laugh. He tossed the bottle to the back of his throat and then continued to laugh at you. “Something about how awful the airplane food was and how drinking milk reminds you of cum.” he grimaced at the last part, but a playful smile still rested on his face. “God you are explicit.”

Your cheeks flushed, looking anywhere but his direction. “I do not sleeptalk.”

You looked to Wooyoung and San for help, but they looked dumbfounded. “I wouldn't know, y/n, I never slept with you,” San smirked, smiling deviously at you. “Unless you’re down with that, I’m all for hearing you sleeptalk in my ear all night.”

“Yeah, me too,” Woo played along, knowing he was just doing it to tease you. Seonghwa, on the other hand, was trying desperately to embarrass you in front of the hot bartender.

“God, it’s so annoying, I wanted to rip my hair out earlier,” he smiled devilishly, his teeth even brighter than normal under all the neon lights. “I thought I couldn't hate you more, but you proved me wrong.”

You looked straight ahead, ignoring Seonghwa’s goofy smile. “Whatever,” you huffed, resting your face on your hand, your elbow holding up the weight. You watched the sexy bartender notice your stare. He smiled and walked over to you.

“Need another sour?” he asked, his cheeks pinched with dimples. You had your eyes set on going home with him, and you were going to follow through with it. Seonghwa can stay outside for the night—or watch, it didn't matter to you.

“Actually,” you pondered, blinking slowly as the alcohol hit your system even harder. “I’ll take a vodka and Sprite. Grey Goose.” you hummed, watching him nod with a smirk on his face.

Seonghwa chuckled, but you were too focused on your mission to hear him blab about how much he hated you over and over again. Soon enough, that damn grey goose hit you harder than anything. Your eyes fluttered after your second glass, your vision fuzzy, and your heartbeat racing.

You let out a heavy sigh, unable to remember your original mission.

“Hey,” you coughed, your cheeks burning up from the toxin. You looked around the bar, only meeting Seonghwa’s eyes…..oh…they’re so pretty. “Where did everyone else go?”

He was facing you, looking at you through those sparkling irises of his. He took in a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, your brother left with that girl he was making out with earlier….San and Woo left not too long ago to go to another bar, and Mingi….” he paused, watching your expression change when mingi was mentioned. “Mingi went with them.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “Why’d you stop at mingi like that?”

He furrowed his brows. “Why’d you look like that when I mentioned him?”

You sniffled, feeling a burning sensation in your throat from all the vodka. “What do you mean?” you were too messed up to defend yourself. You didn't even know your expression changed.

“You looked…different when I said his name.”

You couldn't help but laugh at his dreary tone. “Pfft. Hwa, do you think that just because I slept with him once that I have feelings for him?”

He frowned, his eyebrows knit with confusion. “You slept with him? Mingi?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. Just once, though.” Oh god, you officially couldn't think straight. Why were you even telling him this? “But that was it.”

He looked at you with an unknown expression, flattening his lips. “So you just sleep with anyone, huh?”

You scoffed. “Well, no, not usually.” you bit your lip, looking at him without knowing how you were looking at him. “I kind of always wanted you, but I didn’t understand why, so I ignore the feeling by sleeping with other guys.”

“That makes no sense, y/n,” he spat. “What are you saying?”

You rolled your eyes, drunkenly gripping his broad shoulders, shaking him slightly. “Awh, shut it, Hwa. Haven't you ever felt that before?” you paused, not realizing how close you were. His eyes were sharp, and his lips parted. “Wanting someone you can't have? Knowing that they wouldn't want anything to do with you?”

He swallowed hard, his gaze piercing into you sharply. “You’re drunk, y/n,” he paused, looking at you intently before shaking your hands away. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

“Oooh, don't tempt me, baby,” you poked his chest, giggling as he stood up off the barstool. You were completely oblivious to the fact that you just admitted to wanting him, but it didn't seem like he took it seriously.

“Get up,” he huffed, gripping under your arms and lifting you off your chair. You groaned, wrapping your arms around his waist. You held onto him tightly as he reached into his back pocket to grab money, tossing it onto the counter with a glare at the bartender.

“Enjoy your night,” Seonghwa growled, holding onto you, and made his way towards the hotel with you clung to him.

“Seonghwa,” you whispered, a giggle under your breath.

He grunted, pulling you along with him. “What?”

You sniffed. “Can I kiss you?”

He sighed. “No.”

“Why?” you mumbled, shoving your face into his chest.

“Because it’s your drunk habit.”

“So would you kiss me if it wasn't?” you asked, completely obliterated. There was no way you were going to remember this in the morning.

He didn't answer you.

“Come on, Hwa,” you moaned, stopping and gripping onto his collar in front of the hotel. You looked up into his eyes, feeling his intense gaze cut right through your intoxication. You needed him. Needed him bad. “Just once. God, just once.”

“I…” he swallowed, his hands twitching at his sides, crying out to touch you. He kept them away, even if he didn't want to. “Not now. Not while you’re drunk.”

You blinked slowly, watching his lips flatten into a frown. “Does that mean you want to?”

He sighed, running his hands through his hair aggressively. “Please just….let’s get back to the room and get you to bed.”

You groaned, but complied, following him into the hotel and into the elevator. The ride was silent, Seonghwa standing in the corner, farthest away from you, his breathing slowed. You stared at him, leaning up against the wall.

“I really hate you,” you mumbled, glaring at him. He was too sexy, his hair messy, his eyes dark, his long legs taller than a skyscraper. You only admitted your attraction to him when you were drunk, but you couldn't deny the pull you had to him.

He looked up at you, his starry eyes looking from your legs, up to your hips, over your breasts, and finally to your eyes. He took in a sharp breath, biting the corner of his lip.

“I hate you too,” he whispered, his vision low.

And in what world would the words I hate you cause someone’s heart to flutter?

The elevator dinged at your floor, and after a moment of longing stares, Seonghwa gripped your arm and dragged you out. He held onto your drunken body as he searched for his keycard, and once he found it, you tumbled into the room together.

Your back was pressed against the wall, his arms caging you in on both sides. His forehead was on yours, and you were able to feel his hot breath against your lips.

“Oh,” you hummed, your hands subconsciously dancing at the hem of his t-shirt. You watched his throat bob anxiously as you looked into his eyes.

It took everything in him to move away. He coughed awkwardly and then nodded toward the bed. “Come on, you need to rest.”

“Mhm,” you murmured, unable to move in a straight line. You kicked off your sandals, and pulled off your shirt with ease, leaving you only in your bra and that skimpy skirt seonghwa was looking at all night.

He watched as you walked, holding his breath without meaning to.

As you neared the bed, you reached back to unclip your bra, but you couldn't reach it. “Hwa?”

He was looking at the floor. “Hm?”

“Can you…” you paused, giving up on trying to get it off. “Take this off of me? It’s really uncomfortable.”

He blinked, his eyes wide. You couldn't see the confusion in his expression, but you heard the shakiness of his tone. “W-what? Your….bra?”

“Yeah.”

He didn't say anything else. He slowly walked over to where you were, and as his fingertips traced the middle of your back, you shivered under his touch.

He unclasped the hook, but held on to both ends of the bra, afraid to let it drop. “It’s done,” he whispered, backing up slightly.

You dropped the bra onto the floor and then reached to take off your skirt. As you slid it down your hips, you heard seonghwa nearly trip over his feet trying to turn away.

“Do you…always sleep naked?” he asked you, looking anywhere but where you were. You were way too drunk to care about what he sees, but you were also too tired to try. You fell onto the bed, your arm covering your breasts and your underwear still on.

“Fuck, y/n,” Seonghwa huffed, finally looking over and doing everything to not look where he shouldn't. He gently reached for the blanket, tossing it over you in one swift motion.

You shut your eyes tight, feeling his presence loom over you. He brushed away the stray hairs on your face and made sure you were laying on your side.

“.... I’m so screwed,” he muttered, giving you one last look before walking into the bathroom and turning on the cold water.

A cold shower, especially knowing that there was a beautiful, nearly naked girl in the bed just outside the door.

The cold water ran down his body, giving him a rush of pain.

“Fuck,” he hissed, biting his lip as his attraction to you only worsened.

—

After his attempt to cleanse his messy thoughts, Seonghwa stepped out of the bathroom, towel hanging low on his hips. He hesitated before looking over at you, and after he got a good look at your pretty face, he made his way to his luggage, rooting in there for a t-shirt to toss on.

“...seong…hwa,” you moaned.

Moaned.

“....y/n?” he whispered, maybe thinking you were awake and needed something. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but that sounded too….sensual than just a normal tone.

“I…ugh,” you groaned, “don't stop, please. H…Hwa.”

Seonghwa raised his eyebrows, dropping the clothes he had in his hands, eyes wide.

“Seonghwa….”

Okay, that was the third time. You were most definitely dreaming about him….

“Oh…my…god.” Hwa gulped, cautiously standing up and backing away as far as he could from you.

Little did he know how detailed your dream was.

—

His hands snaked up your bare hips, your legs wrapped around his waist. His lips were on your ear, biting, teeth clashing against your skin.

He thrusted into you, hard, his hips buckling as he moaned. You cried out his name, back arching, nails scratching. He fucked you hard, his forehead against yours, and his eyes rolled back into his head.

“You like that?” he whispered, his tongue sliding into your mouth before you could answer. His sweat fell on your cheek, and you moaned out his name once more. You weren't sure how you got here, how this came about, or anything. All that mattered was that you were finally with him, the man you always thought you hated.

“…hwa,” you moaned, “fuck me harder.”

And as he slammed into you with even more force than before, his lips crashed onto yours, his black hair blocking your vision. You wanted more, and more and more—

“Y/n,”

“Just shut up and keep going,” you cried out.

“Y/N!”

You shot awake, gasping for air as your back hit the headboard. You breathed heavily, realizing that you were dreaming about all of that and that the real seonghwa was standing in front of you, shirtless, with an expression you weren't quite sure you’d ever seen before.

“Seonghwa, what—”

“S..stop it. Don't say my name,” he stuttered, looking anywhere but your body. He quickly tossed a t-shirt at you—his t-shirt. “Just put this on. The guys are down getting breakfast, so we gotta go.”

He quickly walked to his own luggage and grabbed a shirt for himself. You watched him as he tossed it on and slid on his shoes, and with one last awkward glance at you, he left the room in haste.

You were too scared to look down, hoping that you still had underwear on. You weren't too sure if that was a dream or not, but given the way he acted, it made you even more confused.

You felt the wetness between your thighs, clenching them with a sigh. You stood up, tossing on the bra that was laying on the floor as if it was thrown off of you.

After cleaning yourself up a bit, you made your way to the breakfast area on the first floor, immediately noticed by Hongjoong. “There you are! I was worried you weren't going to—” he stopped, noticing the shirt that was way too big on you. “That’s the shirt I got Hwa….”

Seonghwa cleared his throat, shoving a bagel into his mouth to distract himself.

You ignored him and sat down across from him and next to Mingi. You looked up, meeting eyes with the man you thought so filthily about, seeing a swipe of cream cheese on the bottom of his lip. You held back, knowing that it’ll just send you into another spiral if you pointed it out.

But when he stuck his tongue out to lick it off, you felt the tingle in your stomach once more, thinking back at the dream you had, and how his tongue caressed you in more ways than one.

He met eyes with you, his lips parting slightly. His gaze was much different than it ever has been. You've never seen him so….lost. His expression was conflicted, his eyes not leaving your lips.

Wooyoung smirked. “Did you guys fuck or something? What’s with the mood?”

“Wooyoung!” Hongjoong yelled.

“What? I’m just pointing out the obvious,” he shrugged.

“We didn't. Keep dreaming,” Seonghwa muttered lowly, taking another bite of his bagel.

Hongjoong huffed. “I don't want to imagine my sister and seonghwa in that way…that’s super weird.”

“Why?” seonghwa questioned, his tone serious. You looked at him, confused as to why he cared. It seemed like everyone else was just as confused as you. “Ahem, I mean…uh, is it that hard to imagine?” Seonghwa’s voice was shaky, his gaze hopping from Hongjoong to you.

It made your brother laugh. “Well, yeah. You guys hate each other, right?” he took a sip of his coffee before continuing. “It makes no sense for you to even see eye to eye, I couldn't imagine you two in any type of relationship. Maybe her and Mingi, out of everyone.”

Seonghwa dropped his bagel face down onto his plate. “Why Mingi? What’s so special about—”

“I’m right here guys….” Mingi tried to interrupt, but Seonghwa shot him a dangerous glare, causing the gentle giant to hold his tongue.

Hongjoong looked around at the boys awkwardly and picked up his fork to continue eating his eggs. “I’m just saying.”

This was too awkward. You kept stealing glances at Hwa as if he were a magnet. You assumed he felt similarly, because every time you looked, your eyes would meet, and then you would awkwardly stare for a moment too long before looking away.

And when he got up to get more food, you got up, too.

“We need to talk,” you whispered, coming right up next to him as he put a muffin on his plate. “Why are you acting weird?”

He sighed and continued to add food to his plate. “I’m not acting weird.”

As he moved to get a drink from the drink machine, you continued to follow him. “Did I do something wrong yesterday?” you gasped, holding a hand over your mouth as he still ignored you. “Did I kiss you? Dear god, I hope not—”

“No, you didn't,” he said quietly, walking back over to the table.

“Something must have happened, seonghwa—”

He stopped, nearly causing you to bump into his back. “Don't.” he paused, taking in a sharp breath, looking over his shoulder at you. “Don't say my name.”

You frowned in confusion, watching the muscles in his back move as he walked away. You couldn't remember your antics yesterday, but maybe you made him uncomfortable by sleeping nearly naked—he hated you, so you could only imagine how irritated he was.

“Listen, if it was because I was naked, I'm sorry—”

Everyone at the table looked up as you spoke, including seonghwa. He looked shy, a blush on his cheeks, and he sat down quickly and stuffed the muffin in his mouth.

“Naked?” Mingi laughed, looking from you to seonghwa suggestively. “Sounds awfully smutty, Seonghwa.”

“We didn't—” he groaned, running a hand down his face. “Nothing happened with us.”

“Mhm, okay,” San smirked. “Whatever you say. Anyway, we have a whole day out planned, so you two better get back to your normal selves or we won't have any fun.”

You really needed to talk to seonghwa, but it seemed like you'll be busy the whole day with the boys—and he didn't seem to be very interested in talking to you, anyway.

You tilted your head in curiosity.

“What are we doing?”

—

The day was eventful.

First, you went to the beach. Seemed innocent, until Seonghwa took off his shirt and got all soaking wet, sending you in a mess of thoughts and a mess below. He would look over at you, and wouldn't look away, paying intense attention to your body in a skimpy little bikini.

When you went to talk to him, he body-slammed you into the ocean, and normally you would've fumed, but this time, you enjoyed his hands on your bare skin.

After the beach, you walked along the boardwalk of shops and lots of food. You grabbed a popsicle, licking it without a thought, but when you felt an intense pressure on you, you looked over to see seonghwa looking at you with an expression you've never seen on him. His eyes were focused on your lips, his own lips curled up as he bit them. You continued to eat your popsicle, but couldn't stop looking at him.

When you tried to bring up last night, Hongjoong came over and took the rest of your pop, running away from you like a child.

At dinner, you sat at the far end of the table, as far away as possible from Seonghwa. It wasn't intended, but now there was no way you could talk, as everyone would hear your conversation.

You ate, feeling defeated. Maybe you should just forget about it.

It was still daylight after dinner. As the guys conversed about what to do next, San and Wooyoung decided to go their own way and walk the beach, which was just their code word for “shopping” for girls. Hongjoong agreed with them, shocking you since he was always hell-bent on not going off a schedule. You assumed he was just going to meet that girl he was with yesterday, but whatever, it just meant that you could be left alone with Seonghwa.

After those three left, it was only you, Seonghwa, and Mingi. Hwa stood with his hands in his pockets, awkwardly looking around as you stood outside the restaurant. Mingi was even more awkward, looking at you before speaking.

“Um, I’m just gonna go with Woo and San, so,” he breathed, looking to seonghwa now. “I’ll see you guys back at the hotel tonight.”

“Okay, Mingi,” you smiled. “See you later.”

You watched him leave and then looked at the boy standing next to you.

“So,” you tried to initiate conversation, but seonghwa started walking in the opposite direction from where everyone else went. You followed. “What should we do?”

“I’m going surfing,” he said blandly. “I don't know about you, though.”

“I’ll come with you,” you smiled, finally catching up to him. He let out an aggravated groan as you walked close to him. “Do you even know how to surf?”

He scoffed. “Yeah, of course, I do.”

“I’m just saying,” you noted, shrugging as you followed him. “You’re too….dainty. I feel like if you fell off you’d break every bone in your body.”

Seonghwa didn't react in any way you were hoping he would. Instead, he kept walking silently, until you reached the part of the beach where the surf shack was. Wetsuits were laid out, ready to be picked up, and surfboards stood tall through the sand and against the building. You stared in awe as you approached, seeing that there was no one else here but you two.

Finally, alone at last.

“Grab a suit if you’re gonna do this,” he pointed to them, raising an eyebrow when you stood there anxiously. “What? Don't you know how to surf?” he mocked.

You kicked at the sand, your hands behind your back. “Pff. yeah, of course, I….no. I don't.” you pleaded with your eyes sweetly, despite all of the dirty things you wanted to do to him. “Could you please teach me? Pretty please?”

He held his own suit close to his chest as he looked down at you. “Why should I?”

You stepped closer to him, causing him to step back cautiously. “Because I’m pretty?”

“Oh honey, who lied to you?” he joked.

“Please, Seonghwa?” you stressed his name, hoping to break him. You watched his eye twitch as you said it, reminding you of earlier when he told you not to say his name.

“Seonghwa seonghwa seonghwa seong—”

“Okay, fine! Jeez,” he huffed, tossing you a suit, only for it to hit you in the face. “Get dressed.”

You walked into the shack with him, going your separate ways at the locker rooms. Everything went smoothly until you tried to zipper the suit up, only being able to get it halfway. You pondered on asking seonghwa for help or completely turning into a contortionist, but after failing to do it yourself, you gave up and left the room to ask him.

Seonghwa stood amongst the surfboards, his lean body looking delicious in that surf suit. You nearly drooled looking at him.

“Hey,” you started, slowly approaching him as he picked out a board. “Can you help me zipper this?”

He turned to you, his expression conflicted as he saw you. You turned around, showing your exposed back, causing him to clear his throat. “O..okay.”

His delicate fingers brushed against the skin of your back, nearly causing you to shiver. You felt his breath hit the back of your neck as the zipper moved up and up until he zipped it completely.

“....There,” he said, swallowing. “You’re all good.”

He didn't move his hands until you pulled away from him, turning back around to face him. The silence was deafening, so you decided to break it.

“Seonghwa, about last night, what exactly happened—”

“Let’s just get started before the sun goes down,” he interrupted, looking anywhere but your eyes. “We’ll talk later.”

That was good enough for now. You watched him try to pick out a board, but he seemed extremely nervous. After a good bit of time, he grabbed a pink one, causing you to smile. Pink suited him so much, more than he’d probably like to admit.

“Let’s start with some basics,” he spoke smoothly, tossing the board down onto the sand. “Get on it. On your stomach.”

You lay down on the board, looking up at him for more directions. He taught you how to paddle with your arms, explaining that you'll have to dive under the waves sometimes if you were okay with doing that. You couldn't look weak now, especially not to him. So after the little training lesson, you were finally in the shallow water, sand already in every nook and cranny of you.

“Try to keep balance,” he said, his voice raspy. It wasn't the time to turn you on, but of course, he could do it just by his voice. “Keep your chest up.” his hand caressed your back, down your spine.

You looked up at him, his wet hair dripping down his face. You held back, as much as you could, from pouncing on him.

But when you fell off the board and got stuck underwater, you’ve never seen him so concerned before.

He grabbed you under your arms, pulling you back up and holding him to you while you coughed. You were perfectly fine—maybe a little too much water in the ears, but it was the least of your worries. What you cared about was the look on his face and the way he caged you to his body.

“y/n?” he rushed his hand over your face, pushing away your drenched hair so he could see you. “Are you okay?”

You coughed, blinking away the salt that infiltrated your eyes. Seonghwa noticed your distress and gently rubbed your face with the pad of his thumb.

“Don't rub your eyes,” he pushed your hand away, still not letting you go from his embrace. “You'll make it worse.”

“It hurts,” you mumbled, causing his look of worry to worsen. True, the salt started burning your eyes, but you couldn't get enough of his caring touch—maybe because he’s never shown this side of himself to you.

He took in an anxious breath as he looked around. “Maybe we should get back to the hotel,” he spoke softly, the sound of water filling your senses as you looked at him.

Everything about his appearance aggravated you—from the way his midnight hair draped his face, dripping with water down his cheeks, to the way his normally judgemental eyes seemed gentle and sweet. He looked kind, the type of man who would worship his lover like a queen, and all the time knowing him, you tried your hardest to only see him in a negative light.

Now, as he held you in the cold, sparkling ocean as the sun was setting, all you saw was your reflection in his eyes and all you felt was the undeniable pull to be with him. To touch him. To kiss him. To tell him that maybe, just maybe, you’ve always had a piece of him in your heart.

“Seonghwa, I…” you paused, ignoring the burn from the salt water. You watched his lips as they slowly parted, his eyes wide as he picked you apart. They looked at you differently, like they never looked at you before, and you wanted him to never stop looking at you.

The distance between the two of you was nonexistent—you saw every drop of water on his skin, and you were certain he was able to gather the meaning behind your gaze. If he did, he didn't say anything—he only looked back at you with those entrancing irises of his, a look you’ve never seen from him. He waited patiently for you to finish your sentence, but you had nothing else to say.

As your lips neared his, you heard his breath get caught in his throat, and you felt his embrace tighten around you. You closed your eyes, taking in the feeling, hoping that he would be the one to lean in and meet your lips.

He didn't.

Instead, his hands trailed down your back, the pink surfboard still floating next to you despite being forgotten. His breath was shaky as he touched you, but the moment ended too quickly as he shook himself out of his trance.

“I um, we should, you know,” he nodded towards the beach, even though you weren't too far out. “We should get back to the room.”

You slowly blinked at him, watching his expression stay the same despite the change of mind. He coughed, letting go of you, but then he grabbed your hand and the board before pulling you to shore.

The walk back was quiet. He didn't let go of your hand until you got back to the surf shack, and he reluctantly let go knowing you had to change.

You both were silent as you looked at each other, but the ache in your chest convinced you to break this tension.

Before you entered the changing room, you quickly turned back around to face seonghwa, who still stood with that….sex-charged expression on his face.

“….Stop looking at me like that,” you hummed, your chest heavy as he breathed in deeply. He looked at you with those bedroom eyes of his, half of his wetsuit already off. He looked deadly, which didn't help your desire.

He swallowed hard but tried his best to remain calm. “Like what?”

You took a step closer, reaching back to your zipper to pull it down just a little. You shrugged it down your bare shoulders, making sure he got to know that there was nothing else but you under that wetsuit once again.

And when you got as close as you could, you said the words you knew would be life or death for him.

“Like you want to fuck me,” you shrugged, acting all cool even though you were falling apart by the second. You were lucky you were at the surf shack at such a late time of day, and that no one else was here except you.

He choked on air, stepping away from you until his back hit the wall. You noticed how his chest rose and fell as he breathed in, and how delicious it would be to just lick him all over….

“I…” he gulped, but his eyes lingered on your shoulders and the curve of your breasts. “I don't know what you mean?”

You smiled through your haze, mind focused on getting to the bottom of his sudden change of attitude towards you. You reached out, gently guiding your hand down the plain of his chest, down his slim, but muscular waist. Oh, you couldn't get enough of him already.

You smirked. “Then tell me why you’ve been eye fucking me all day, or at least what happened last night, so I can understand.”

He blinked fast, looking from your lips, down your neck, to your bare shoulders.

“You…” he took in a sharp breath as your hands trailed down his body. “You sleeptalk.”

“I know that already,” you whispered, looking into his captivating gaze.

He leaned forward slightly, veins popping in his neck as he strained against his judgment. “I mean, you…kept moaning my name. I…I couldn't take it anymore….I can't take it anymore. Every time you speak I just want to fucking shut you up with my mouth for fucks sake.” he huffed, subconsciously gripping your hips as he grits his teeth. “You so annoying, so damn annoying, I can't—”

“Then take me,” you spoke against his lips. “Fuck me. Just like you did in my dreams.”

His forehead pressed against yours as you pushed him further against the wall.

“And how did I do that?” he growled, his fingertips tugging at your wetsuit. “Was I rough? Gentle?” he paused, lips pressed to your neck. “Did I make you say my name, or was that all you with that filthy little mouth of yours?”

You couldn't speak as his lips glided down your neck to your collarbone. He sucked on the skin there, roughly, causing you to suck in a sharp breath and run your hands through his dripping-wet hair.

You moaned, biting his earlobe. “I want you to tear me apart.”

He smirked against your skin, his eyes finally meeting yours.

“Rough it is, then.”

Without warning, he bit his lip hard as he pulled your wetsuit right down to your ankles, the water from his hair dripping onto your bare shoulders. He nearly growled as you stood in front of him, naked as ever, his gaze darkening before gripping the back of your neck to pull you to him.

As he sucked on your neck, you pulled down his suit with aggression, not quick enough for the hunger in both of your souls. His hot breath tickled your skin, his hands clawed at your hips, and his lips begged to kiss yours as you shoved him against the wall once again, skin on skin. He breathed heavily, his eyes dancing from your breasts to your waist, to your lips.

You gripped onto his hair, staring into his eyes for a moment before you locked your lips with his, tasting the saltiness of the ocean and the sweet warmth of his saliva. Your tongues fought for their lives, dancing as you deepened the kiss. Foreheads slamming, hands invading space. It was all over for your sanity the minute his long fingers glided against your core, his middle finger finding your clit and rubbing gently. His kisses were rough as his fingers delicately touched you, fueling the fire within you even more than it already was.

“Seonghwa,” you moaned against his ear, causing him to move his hand faster with a grunt. “Push them in me.”

He hissed, his eyes rolling back into his head as he pulled his hands away for a moment, only to suck his fingers in front of you before shoving them into you, curling them up inside you. You arched your back against him, crying out as his lips found yours once again.

He kissed you deeply as he made love to you with his hands, his fingers long enough to reach deep inside of you—but it wasn't enough. You bit his lip sharply as he fingered you, causing him to hiss in pleasure. “I need your cock in me. Now.” you licked his jawline, watching him squirm in your embrace.

His cheeks were flushed red as he looked at you, his eyes looking as if he were intoxicated. “I…fuck,” he sucked in a breath, kissing you as his fingers moved faster and faster. “Okay.”

As he pulled his fingers out of you, he licked them once more, his eyes on yours seductively.

“You taste so good.” he moaned, his mouth parted. He then lifted you up, walking you over to the table of waxed surfboards in the middle of the room. Shoving everything off with one hand, he threw you onto the wood, causing you to let out a little grunt.

“You’re so sexy,” he leaned over you, slamming your hands above your head before silencing your moans with a rough kiss. “So fucking sexy, you have no idea how long I wanted to shove my dick inside you.” His words were like gasoline to your fire, causing you to cry out in a whimper for him to do exactly what he said he would do. You kept your mouth shut as he tugged you to the edge of the table, lining up his hard-on to enter you.

After a look of longing, he spit onto his fingers and rubbed them onto his cock and your heat, his chest falling and rising with his heavy breathing. He then buried himself inside you, deeply, causing your breath to hitch. He was even bigger than your dreams, tearing apart your expectations of his skills. You tried your best to free your arms from his hold, but as he moved in and out of you, you had lost the desire to escape it. You really liked the feeling of his fingernails tearing into your skin.

“Ah,” he whimpered, his hips rocking quickly, his eyes shut tight. His thrusts were deep, not slowing down for a second.

Your legs curled around his shoulders, his one arm holding your hands and his other piercing into your ankle. He grunted as he pumped into you, tearing at your insides, feeling him fill you up. “Hwa,” you groaned, back arching in pleasure. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

He grunted in response, speeding up faster as his hips slammed into yours. You felt him quiver inside you, precum dripping into you without a care. You loved the feeling, you didn't care about the risks in the moment.

You climaxed without warning, your legs tightening around his head. He kept muttering your name over and over again against you, kissing the skin of your ankles as he continued to fuck the living shit out of you. You started to see stars as he nearly cracked your spine, and right before he nearly came, he flipped you over onto your stomach without ever leaving you.

Your face was shoved against the wood of the table, the sweet smell of sex enveloping your senses. You cried out his name as he gripped onto your hips, moving faster as his own orgasm came close. His lips met the small of your back, his fingers gripped your ass with haste.

“I’m going to come,” he mumbled, his voice raspy. “Can I come in you?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Come inside me.”

As if your words stirred something within him, he immediately moved in shorter movements, his grip on your ass tightening as his orgasm came. His breathing shallowed as he came into you, filling you up with his cum. You let out one last moan as you felt his warmth, and he kissed the back of your neck as he finished.

He pulled out of you slowly despite how rough he was—he could've been rougher, but you didn't want him to think of you as the insane slut everyone thought you were.

Even though you only ever slept with others because you couldn't have him.

And now…..what comes next?

He helped you sit back up to a normal position, and when he saw the dark, purple bruises on your neck and collarbone, he gasped. “Oh, I’m sorry,” his fingers gently brushed against your hot skin as if he didn't just totally destroy you. “I kind of….went crazy, didn't I?”

You smiled up at him in a daze, both your cheeks blushed in embarrassment and enjoyment. “I like crazy.”

He paused, standing proudly in front of you with that delicious body of his. You sighed in contentment, a lazy smile on your lips. “I dreamt of this. Literally.” you reached out to him, pulling his lips down to yours. He kissed them softly, opening his mouth wide as he made out with you. You didn't want to pull away, but as the thought of you both having sex in a public surf shack came to your mind, you pulled away quickly, startling him.

“Um, so,” you laughed awkwardly. “Should we head back now? We are kind of in a public place….”

Seonghwa looked around, smirking as he leaned forward on the table, kissing you once more. “It was kind of thrilling, not gonna lie.”

You leaned into his embrace, his hands caressing your back romantically. “So,” you whispered against his lips. “We should get back. And this time, you better sleep in the bed with me.”

“Oh, baby, I plan on doing more than just sleeping.”

—

After countless rounds of ‘sleeping’, you ended up waking up late in Seonghwa’s embrace, his lips pressed against the curve of your shoulder as he held you. He quite literally rocked you all night long, and you even discovered his love for reverse cowgirl—making him come within two minutes of the fifth round.

Now, as you lay in his arms while he slept, you finally felt content. He was all you ever wanted, even though your words said otherwise this whole time of knowing him.

“Hey,” you turned around in his embrace, pressing your lips against his forehead. “Seonghwa.”

“Hm?” he grumbled sleepily, his eyes blinking open to meet yours.

You smiled, running a hand through his messy hair. “We should get up. The others are probably waiting for us in the lobby.”

“Ugh, why?” he groaned, holding onto you tighter. “ I don't want to leave this bed today. Or ever.”

You giggled, pecking his lips. “Come on, Hwa. I really would like to get a tan on the sand today.”

His eyes were wide open now, but he blinked slowly from his sleepiness. “We barely got any sleep,” he huffed, shoving his head into your shoulder. “And I can't kiss you in front of everyone, I can't wait the whole day to touch you.”

You grinned chaotically.

“Who says we have to hide it?”

—

“Dear lord,” Wooyoung huffed, sitting with his arms crossed at the beach. “Are they ever going to stop and come up for air?”

Your friends sat on towels on the sand, while you sat on Seonghwa’s lap as you made out with him. His hands gripped your face as he stuck his tongue in your mouth, both of you having no care for those around you.

“I knew this was going to happen,” San mumbled with a smirk, elbowing Wooyoung playfully. “Just let them have their fun. It’s been a long time coming.”

“Pfft,” Woo scoffed, looking at how seonghwa touched you.

“I always thought I would be the one tapping that.”

“Wooyoung shut the fuck up.”

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #roomates #vacation au #ateez masterlist #enemies to lovers #fwb #wooyoung #San #mingi #Hongjoong

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fallstaticexit · 2 months ago

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Prev / Next / Beginning / Pillowfort

AN: Next update will post Monday the 23rd , same time and same place! Going to start working on updating my game etc. <3

Transcript under the cut

Siobhan: There you are! Our guest of honor tucked away in the corner. You’re not hiding, are you?

Nancy: I never really liked crowds.

Siobhan: That won’t do, Nancy. Come. Lets chat.

Siobhan: You know, the way you handled Becca the other night is admirable. I wouldn’t have done anything less if it were my man she was pawing after.

Nancy: Listen, I’m not a violent person. I shouldn’t have hit her.

Siobhan: It hardly matters. It’s about respect.

Siobhan: You have the means to be the most powerful woman in the world. Your family runs a multi million dollar company. Your name is on every recognizable building across the globe. Girls like Becca will dream of the day they can write you a check so she can raise her brood of rowdy children in one of your flawlessly designed properties.

Siobhan: You’re a star, Nancy. It’s time you show everyone what it means to be a Landgraab. You can start by becoming a Theta.

Siobhan: By the way, your mother just arrived!

Nancy: Hello Mother.

Queenie: Nancy.

Nancy: Father couldn’t make it?

Queenie: No, I’m afraid he’s tied up in a prior engagement. Besides, I try not to bore him with my personal affairs. [murmurs] How provocative, these pieces.

Queenie: So you’ve made friends with the daughter of an adulterer. Is that what you thought would impress me? Well, at least she’s proactive. Your lack of involvement in any clubs or organizations shows just how lazy you are. It’s almost as if we’ve sent you to university to piss away our money yet again. When will you prove to me that you’re worth half the trouble you put your father and me through? And for the love of God, stop biting your nails! It’s disgusting.

Professor Munch: -right, Nancy?

Nancy: I’m sorry, what was that?

Professor Munch: This model is absolutely stunning! Marvelous, even.

Nancy: R-really? Thank you, Professor.

Professor Munch: Ah! No wonder! Your drawings are very compelling. The way you blend functionality with aesthetics is brillant! A true prodigy!

Professor Munch: I am very proud of you, Nancy. Keep it up.

Nancy: Hi Professor. I know I’m a little early for office hours, but I really wanted your thoughts on my blueprints.

Professor Munch: Nancy! Are you kidding! Anything for my star pupil. Take a seat.

Professor Munch: If I’m being honest, I don’t have much critique.

Nancy: Staying on top of my grades is really important to me. My GPA is 3.7 but I know I can do more to improve. I can do better-

Professor Munch: [huffs affectionately] Nancy! You are my brightest and best student! I’d say it’s in your blood. I haven’t seen such vision and passion in my student’s work since I taught your brother.

Nancy: Nathan was your student?

Professor Munch: Oh, Nathan was my star! In the short time I spent with him, he has shown me what true artistry looks like. That kid had an eye for detail. He always spoke so fondly of his little baby sister, Nan; he’d call you. [sighs] I miss him dearly.

Professor Munch: I thought of quitting and getting back into the field after he passed. I was devastated when I found out about the accident. My partner pushed me to continue teaching. She knew there was nothing I loved more than handing the tools to brillant kids like you and Nathan to shape our future.

Nancy: Partner? [frowns] Your...partner?

Professor Munch: Monica. We were roommates in college and have been stuck to each other like glue since!

Nancy: So, she’s your best friend?

Professor Munch: Oh certainly. My best friend, my muse, my partner.

Nancy: What about your husband?

Professor Munch: Husband?

Nancy: I- sorry. Nevermind.

Professor Munch: Talk to me, dear. What’s on your mind?

Nancy: I guess I don’t understand. You’re wearing a ring but you have no photos of your husband. You seem...close with her, in the photo.

Professor Munch: I was married once. We have three children together. Sweetest man alive. We’re still friends to this day. We both realized that we had our hearts in different places. In the end, I had my Monica. My soulmate.

Nancy: [sobs quietly]

Professor Munch: Oh, no. Nancy? Dear, are you alright?

Professor Munch: [softly] Oh, sweet darling. You’re hurting, aren’t you? Can I hold you? Is that ok?

Nancy: [nods once]

Professor Munch: You let it all out, you hear me? Just let it all out. I got you.

Nancy Narrates: [I wondered what kind of person I’d be had my mother held me like this]

Professor Munch: There’s a small club that I support that meets every Friday in the commons. I think you should stop by.

Nancy: Thank you Professor but, I think I’ve already decided to join a sorority.

Professor Munch: I’ll tell you what, it’s not something you have to join or commit to, but I think there’s something to gain by coming. Plus, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. You two have a lot in common.

Morgan: Holy shit, hey! It’s Nancy Landgraab! Get over here!

#the art of being seen #the landgraabs #nancy landgraab #siobhan fyres #dominic fyres #moira fyres #mia munch #morgan fyres #knox greenburg #darling walsh #sims 4 simblr #sims 4 stories #ts4 simblr #sims 4

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blkkizzat · 22 days ago

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🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟻........... THE BIG BROTHER ......filed under the that's not my jjk man series

visitor log: crazed with quarantine boredom, you can't help but to tease your naive lil' roommate—choso kamo—but you'll know when to stop before it goes too far—or have you already let the real choso in?

classifications: huge mommy kinks, calls reader mommy, dommy mommy!reader, affectionate cruelty/cuteness aggression, manipulative reader, begging, teasing, virgin, creampies, masturbation, panty theft/sniffing/munching, cunalingus, pussy drunk choso, dumbification, slight mentions of menophilia, mentions of aged-up yuji and todo (they give choso “the talk” lmfao).

incidents: 6.9k

You felt bad about this.

You really did.

Although apparently not enough to actually keep you from teasing your half-cursed roommate, pushing him to the point where moisture shines in his wide, puppy-like eyes.

Standing behind the door of your apartment, you pretend you don’t know the Choso before you is not actually a doppelgänger—so convincingly, in fact, that Choso has even begun to question his own sense of self.

“B-But, b-but—I t-think, ah no! I promise it’s really me. I can’t be the curse! I-I mean—wait, I am a curse—but only half! D-Don’t you recognize me??”

Worry edges Choso’s voice while his bottom lip quivers.

Damn, Choso just looks too cute, all forlorn and pouty. You can barely stand it.

“Nah, sounds like you’re copping pleas to me, doppelgänger.”

You nearly give yourself away too, stifling a small mewl from watching his adorable lil’ face crumble, blinking back tears.

While you didn’t intend to make him cry, your pussy is now crying too. Moisture dampening your panties from finally releasing some of the twisted cuteness aggression you’ve been bottling up for so long.

Your half-curse roommate was just too baby-girl for his own damned good—how could you possibly resist toying with him a little?

With that, you decide to take things up a notch.

“Um, are you sure you’re who you say you are? Because my boyfriend, Choso, is already home!”

“B-B-BOY-F-F-FRIEND?!”

Choso’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull, blushing furiously and practically choking on the word itself.

EEEEE! Too precious!

You quickly cup your hand over your mouth hoping he couldn’t hear your giggles through the door.

Truthfully, you and Choso were just roommates.

Neither of you had come close to crossing any lines in the 10 months you’ve lived together. Your cohabitation has been entirely platonic thus far—to your dismay.

Choso was unbelievably sexy and it makes him even sexier knowing how oblivious he was to it. However, Choso’s obliviousness is a problem in itself. Every subtle hint you drop seems to go right over his head. He was still so new to the ways of living as an everyday human and thus he interpreted everything in the most innocently unaware way possible.

You had no idea if Choso actually had any romantic inclinations towards you, but watching him get all flustered at the thought of dating you then cheesin’ like a goof only encourages the game you’re playing to continue.

You’d end this charade soon—you promise—but you just needed to mess with him a bit more. He’d been gone for almost two weeks, temporarily staying with Yuji back in the Jujutsu High dorms. You’ve been so lonely at home without him, which of course you use to justify your teasing by saying how he owed you this tiny bit of entertainment.

And it's entertaining as hell.

“You mean you don’t even know that Choso and I have been dating for 3 months!? You’re a horrible doppelgänger, you know that? I thought you’d be more convincing than this.”

On the other side of the door Choso was close to losing his entire shit. He had no idea how to process any of this information—unequivocally not having the slightest clue you’re purely fucking with him.

“D-Dating!? 3 m-months!?!”

Choso chews on his lip, trying to churn his exhausted thoughts together.

When did this happen!?

He’d been away hunting doppelgänger curses with Yuji practically non-stop for 2 weeks, he’s exhausted from the sheer number of doppels they exterminated and can’t think straight. He didn’t expect to come home to you accusing him of being one—let alone calling him your boyfriend!

Boyfriend.

That title continued to pinball in Choso’s mind.

He wanted to get closer to you for such a long time too, but didn’t know how exactly to go about it, all the social aspects of humanity being brand new to him—especially dating.

Not like he’d ever thought about living a normal life or dating living as a curse. Not until he started working for Jujutsu Tech and Yuji suggested he try living a bit more independently. You, one of the many assistant managers and Yuji’s friend, just happened to be in need of a roommate at the time. Being familiar with the Jujutsu world, you weren’t put off by him being a half-curse, quite the opposite. You’d been so helpful, always cheerful and kind, guiding him through any rough patches and helping him in a way similar to how Yuji does.

Yet it didn’t take long for Choso to realize he felt things about you he’d never experienced with anyone else, not even his brothers.

The desire to constantly be around you and protect you was similar to how he felt about Yuji but with you it just didn’t stop there. Choso wanted to touch you, he wanted to hold you and he desperately wanted to be held by you too.

Simultaneous to his budding affections for you—Choso realized the persistent pattern of his cock stiffening terribly when you’d casually roam around the apartment in your pjs. PJs that consisted of curve-clinging bottoms and braless crop-tops that would show the exact outline of your pussyprint along with every slight jiggle of tiddy from your movements.

Confused, Choso immediately went to Yuji with his problem—divulging everything.

It took about 10 minutes for Yuji and Todo (who happened to be with Yuji at the time) to stop laughing before Yuji finally explained that it was a perfectly normal reaction to seeing a pretty girl dressed in so little.

“Ha! Damn, seeing that juicy ass in tiny shorts everyday? You are truly blessed brother.”

Choso frowned, going silent.

He secretly hated when Todo referred to him as brother—only him and Yuji were brothers.

Moreover, the sinister urge to release piercing blood right through Todo’s tiny peanut head had startled Choso. Choso wasn’t one quick to anger and Todo’s comment wasn’t a threat or an insult by any means—but Choso still didn’t like it, even if he agreed with the sentiment. The last thing he wanted you to do, even to his own torment, was to cover up.

Although admittedly, Choso had seen lots of beautiful women wearing even less on the social media apps Yuji had him download. However, the faint notions of attraction were never as intense as when he was around you.

Not even close.

He didn’t know what to do about that.

Especially after Yuji had warned Choso that it would be inappropriate to let you see any of the many erections Choso got while in your presence. Continuing to say that unless you felt the same way, it would make you uncomfortable and the only reason you did dress that way around him in the first place is because you are comfortable with him.

Todo on the other hand had a different approach and suggested to Choso he “accidentally” drop his towel in front of you after getting out of the shower.

Face red with embarrassment, Choso pointedly ignored that advice.

Making you uncomfortable was the last thing Choso wanted to risk.

Choso didn’t want to be any more of a burden to you after you had so graciously helped him over these past months, so he never made any of his affections for you known and certainly wouldn’t be able to recognize if you felt the same way.

Consequently, he would always quickly excuse himself to the bathroom to take care of the issue, anytime it happened to ‘pop up’.

Literally.

He was only glad right now that he couldn’t see you in them calling him your boyfriend or he would surely get hard, hell he was starting to regardless.

Choso is thoroughly perplexed, yet his next question is so innocent you nearly moan out from the sheer cluelessness of it all.

“A-A—Are we really dating—y-you and I? I-I mean, you actually wanted to d-date someone like me?”

Okay, now.

Now would be the perfect time to come clean.

You’d had your fun right?

You could tell he was starting to take this seriously and it wouldn’t be harmless for much longer if you kept this up.

You honestly don’t even know what’s gotten into you. This sudden wave of aggression feels out of character for you. You’ve never had any inclination to be so pushy or dominant—in fact, you’ve been referred to as a pillow princess in past relationships.

Yet with Choso it was different and had been since the beginning. The urge to encourage him felt so natural—manifesting as a strange bubbling in your chest whenever he had a doleful look of wide-eyed wonderment, head tilted slightly to the side from processing new information.

God, it was a mixture of pride, joy and endearment that intensified in such a way you just wanted to make him cry—and it’s the exact same look he has right now you note gazing out of the peephole.

Your legs rub together, but the shifting of your thighs wasn’t near enough stimulation for your repressed lust. You resisted the compulsions that would sprout to tease or taunt him for far too long and it was all spilling out now.

“Of course, we are Cho! Well me and the real Choso—you’re clearly just a doppelgänger or you wouldn’t be asking your girlfriend that.”

You are the absolute worst.

“Oh, r-right…”

Choso stops, trailing off mid-sentence when he is finally hit with a revelation.

But if you two were in fact dating did that mean—

Choso swallows hard, recalling all the accounts Yuji and Todo sent him full of videos (twitter porn) of what two people do together when they ‘date’. Yuji also told him though, if he’d go out to bars with him and Todo he’d likely have no issue finding a girl who’d also do it with him—even if they weren’t dating.

But Choso declined.

He wasn't interested in doing those things with anyone else—he only wanted to do those things with you.

—wait but….could he really *gulps* with you?

Choso breaks into a anxious sweat.

The problem in his pants had been getting worse lately. To the point he had been excusing himself twice a night to settle down his cock and would try to sit on the furthest end of the sofa during movie nights with a pillow over his crotch.

Although to his torturous agony, somehow you always seemed to find your way over to his side. By the end of the movie you’d be curled up to him with your head on the pillow in his lap over his erection that would have been throbbing all the while.

But dating?

Were you actually dating all this time and he’d been too clueless to recognize it?

Choso didn’t know how it started or what all it entailed but he definitely felt like the worst boyfriend in the world for not realizing it sooner!

He needed to talk to you about that and apologize—but first he needed to convince you it was actually him.

“B-But roomie—please, it’s really me!”

You smirk, getting another mischievous idea.

Roomie, eh? Heehee.

You and Choso call each other ‘roomie’ in the same affectionate way close friends would call each other ‘bestie’—but this too you would use against him as you’re too far on a roll to stop now.

“Roomie?! Nah, my boyfriend Choso only calls me Mommy.”

“MA-MA-MOMMY!?!”

Choso grabs his chest over his heart, and begins muttering something you can’t quiet here, prompting you to consider if a part of his brain has shut down.

Well, a piece of yours surely did.

All your thoughts are now controlled by the growing ache between your thighs.

You wish you could tackle him to the ground and ride him until he can't cum anymore and his pleas for you to stop melt into submissive whimpers as your pussy would continue to milk him.

While you might not have confirmation if Choso has feelings for you, you can plainly see he’s not repulsed by it at least.

Even so, intrusive pessimistic thoughts creep in, making you wonder if you’re simply too much for him. He’s already been so jumpy around you lately—more than usual—to the point where you worry you might be making him uncomfortable.

Maybe you haven’t been as good with keeping your cruel urges suppressed as you think?

Choso has been keeping a bit more distance too whenever you try to get too close. You know he’s still so naive to the ways of the world, and even if you are teasing him now, the last thing you want is to make him feel taken advantage of.

After all, you genuinely consider both him and Yuji friends—especially since letting Choso stay with you was originally a favor to Yuji.

However, a part of you secretly thinks Yuji may have had some vendetta against you—because why else would he have gifted his older brother those gray sweatpants and black compression tees for xmas?

Choso didn’t wear underwear often either, especially when around the house—and a person would have to be blind not to see how fat his cock was just flaccid against his thighs.

So yeah, you did start wearing less and less around him, the boy shorts you wore a few weeks ago might as well have been panties from how far they rode up your crack to let the bottom of your ass cheeks poke out of them.

But Choso, even with that, still wouldn’t look your way for too long.

You sigh.

Alright you had your fun, you’d—

“I-I’m real, I know how to p-prove it!”

Seconds away from stepping back to open the door and barrier, you're speechless as your eyes widen with recognition. The solid blue and tan print cotton material Choso tearfully pulls from his sleeve definitely belong to you.

YOUR RILAKKUMA PERIOD PANTIES!?

“A f-fake Choso wouldn’t have t-these!”

The words spill out of his lips as he looks down at his feet in shame.

Your eyes haven’t dilated from the size of saucers as Choso reveals undeniable proof that he’s the real deal. How else would he have found those heavily soiled teddy bear granny panties you’d hidden so well at the bottom of the laundry basket? You’d stashed them there weeks ago, right before he came home earlier than expected—just before you could wash them.

You hadn’t even realized they were missing!

*Sniff* “M’s-so s-sorry M-Mommy, I-I know i-tt’s wrong—j-just miss you s’much when *sniff* m’gone for so l-long… n’these smell s’much like you n’have your b-blood on ‘em a-and—”

Is this real life!?

Choso’s mournful apologies are blubbering out of him a mile a minute but your thoughts go to hell at the debauched truth. Taking shallow breaths, you’re mindlessly caressing the pads of your fingers over your clothed cunt, eager to relieve any of the ache.

“—Uh—um, C-Choso, baby…?”

Even though he’s still rambling, your voice quiets him.

“Y-yeah, Mommy?”

Fuck!

The hand stroking over your pussy urgently fumbles under the waistband of your shorts and panties to rub on your clit directly now.

He couldn’t just call you Mommy like this and expect you not to be soaked! (Even if it’s your fault he is).

Silently praying that Choso couldn’t hear the soft clicking of your fingers sliding inside your drooling folds to play with your slippery lil’ bud.

Yeah, you were horrible alright—yet you were also horny as hell.

An unexpected turn of events for sure, but there’s no way you couldn’t see this through now. Especially now that he was full on calling you ‘Mommy’ and had just admitted to stealing your panties!

So he’d liked you all this time after all?!

Finding out more was becoming an essential need akin to breathing air.

“T-Tell Mommy something, yeah Cho baby? W-What exactly do you do with Mommy’s panties?”

Looking at his feet, the embarrassment on Choso’s face speaks for itself as he turns his back to the door in shame.

Likewise, you peel yourself from behind the door, leaning against the adjacent wall for additional support as your other hand hurriedly pushes up your top to tweak at your nipples.

Getting off on the mere mental image of his chagrin and the pitiful whimpers you can hear through the door as Choso starts explaining through his tearful sobs his filthy thieving actions.

Shit—he’s such a horney little freak about it too!

Choso reluctantly admits that due to his heightened senses of being a half-curse he can always smell when you’re bleeding (Yuji also had to assure him there was nothing wrong with you).

Once he’d discovered the pair you left in the basket, Choso couldn’t help himself.

And they weren’t the first pair he’d taken either.

Choso had pilfered many sets of your undies to sniff while he hurriedly jerked his cock. Admitting to you sometimes just being around you for too long causes him to get hard. He’d rush to the bathroom and dig through your laundry, scouring for a pair of your panties or thongs like a mad man before resting them directly over his lips and nose. Finally at ease, the bathroom was his refuge and Choso ultimately would bathe his senses in your scent more than he would use the bathroom to actually bathe his body.

Never lasting too long, Choso would cum all over his trembling hands from perversely sniffing and tonguing down the dirtied gusset of your panties.

If there were times Choso thought he was being too noisy, he’d stuff them in his mouth entirely. Sucking out the sweet tang of your cunt from the fibers and imagining it was your actual pussy his mouth was full of instead.

Being the considerate roomie he is though, Choso would always clean them. Your panties would be returned to you, washed and folded and placed in your drawer before you could notice them missing.

Near hyperventilating now, Choso’s face is saturated in tears. He's so scared of your reaction. Surely, even if you two were dating you’d still hate him for the huge violation of privacy.

But if he’d known you were dating before, he’d have at least asked you for permission!

“...M-M-Mommy—are you mad?”

Mad?

Well you were madly finger popping your pussy to his depraved as fuck confession, if that counted as mad.

By the end of his perverse admission of guilt, you had slid all the way down to the floor. Trying to bite back cries as you are two fingers deep into your cunt. Pumping your soaked digits in and out of your pussy. No longer able to hold back, you are moaning aloud.

“AHH, FUHH!”

The steamy twisted visions in your mind replay over and over, imagining him in those stupidly sexy gray sweats stroking himself while munching your panties like a fiend.

Truthfully, the fantasy is doing you in badly and trumped everything else for you.

You haven't been this wet in ages and if he was getting off to your panties, it’s only fair you got off to him owning up to it—right?

“Um, M-Mommy…are y-you okay?”

Choso’s brow furrows when you don’t respond.

Turning back around, he listens intently for any reply. Head cocking to the side when Choso can only hear muffled cries and the messy sounds of something wet squelching behind the door.

Suddenly, a cold panic sets in for Choso—you said he was already home!

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Choso had been so focused on the whole boyfriend and dating reveal he’d completely overlooked that very important detail. He'd been with Yuji for the past week, so it couldn’t have been him, it had to be—a doppel.

You had let in a doppelganger?

Was he in there with you now?

Were you hurt? Is that why you weren’t answering him?

You didn’t sound hurt before but you certainly do now…well maybe not hurt exactly, but extremely distressed at the very least.

“MOMMY, ANSWER ME!!!”

Choso’s anxious cry did capture your attention but unfortunately only fueled the sense of urgency in your fingers thrusting messily into your sopping cunt.

Holy shit—and the wretchedly pathetic way he just called you ‘Mommy?’

You know you’re so fucked up for getting off on tormenting poor Choso like this, but his confession was so fucking hot and pretty fucked all on its own.

There’s no way in hell you could stop now!

How long has it been even since you last orgasm? You couldn’t even remember, your head floating in the haze of a thick pleasurable fog. Regardless the actual length of time the answer was still that it had been too fucking long.

“AH-AH—SHIIIIIIIT!”

So close!

Your hand pulling at your nipples joins your other down your pants. The fingers not plunging in your tight slippery core are scrawling urgent cursive patterns over your sensitive nub, unconsciously spelling out Choso’s name on your clit over and over.

Your toes curl as you chew on your lip, the rope in your belly pulls taunt ready to snap when—

BAMMMMMM!!!

Choso barrels through the door and barrier—flowing red scale activated.

The door itself barely hangs on its hinges as it ricochets back into place (yeah that was def coming out of your deposit for sure).

Scaring you half to death, orgasm thwarted, you can only stare at Choso as rage you’d never seen before is etched all over his face. Yet still his concern for you is evident in rapid fire questions he shoots at you faster than you can even process with your mind still swimming in your lingering arousal.

“ARE YOU OKAY?!”

“WHERE IS HE?!”“DID HE HURT YOU?!”

“HE HURT YOU—I’LL KILL ‘EM!”

Pacing around your apartment frantically, Choso abruptly comes to a stop once he senses that you are the only two in the apartment.

There’s no doppelganger terrorizing you.

The both of you are panting—Choso from his battle-ready stance, blood congealing off the edges of the vivid crimson barbed arrows on his flustered cheeks—and you, panting from the shock of him bursting through the door, making your core to clench and pulse to the beat of your skyrocketing heart rate.

Stuck like a deer in headlights, you swallow thickly. You’re not sure how much time passes—it feels like hours, though it’s likely only been a few minutes.

Regaining enough of your wits to remember the compromising position you are in, you slowly begin to pull your hands out of your shorts. The movement catches Choso’s eye, his vision narrowing in on your hands and fixes on the glimpse he receives of the large moist spot leaking through your cute yellow sleep shorts.

“W-W-Wait!”

Breath stuttering in a bit of a tizzy, Choso drops to his knees before you the second it clicks what you were doing. All thoughts of your obvious lies gone, the arousing perfume wafting off your cunt slaps him upside the head and severely cripples his ability to process the entire situation.

It smells so-so much more sweet and potent than the stale remnants he’d get from your used panties!

You remain all the while still against the wall, his bigger form towers over you, effectively trapping you between the surface and his massive erection. The hard-on Choso sports proudly pokes through his baggy hakama pants. Yet he's so transfixed on the moisture glimmering on your soft thighs, he doesn’t realize he’s even showing it off to you—you do notice, however, quite a lot.

Fuck, you’d never seen him hard before he was so big!

“C-can I see?”

Choso’s voice meekly squeaks out, his tone becoming pitchy as he chews on his bottom lip and wipes his slick clammy palms off on his pants.

Oh shit, he’s so fucking cute you could eat him right the fuck up.

And unknowingly Choso was thinking the same thing about you—wishing you’d let him in sooner.

Why were you doing this without him?

He was your boyfriend right? He could have been helping you with this.

Did you think he’d not want to do this with you?

Did you not want to do it with him?

Yet Choso doesn’t get the opportunity to voice any of these concerns as his mind turns to goo when your pink tongue darts out to wet your bottom lip. Nodding affirmatively, you gently shimmy your pj shorts down.

Your heart is beating so hard in your ears right now.

You know a conversation needs to be had and that you have to tell him the truth—fess up and come clean.

Although all of that seemed so small and irrelevant compared to the very large cock thumping against Choso’s thigh and the pertinent fluttering of your pussy—she’s not letting you forget how badly you still want to cum for a second.

If anything you were just happy more than anything he was just as big, if not a bigger, sexually repressed degenerate as you are. The fact that you both wanted each other would be good enough for now which was more than evident in Choso’s eyes—crazed with excitement and following your every move.

He most definitely keenly whines like an injured puppy. As if the sight of you spreading your thick thighs open to reveal the pretty pair of mesh and silk panties, with a sizable expanding wet spot over your core, pains him and he trembles.

“Mmm, is it okay if I…?”

Neither you nor Choso is quite sure what he’s asking permission for but you give it to him regardless.

Your body jumps slightly when you feel his shaky grasp touch your warm skin just above your knees. Trying to calm himself proves futile the higher Choso’s palms stumble upwards to rest on your inner thighs.

The audible puff Choso breathes out seeing with his own eyes the pretty shape and color of your glistening cunt through the wet mesh material.

Lowering his face closer to your core, Choso unabashedly takes the biggest whiff of your lewd aroma. His eyes roll back as he moans sensually. His warm breath and flicks of his drool gust over your quivering cunt which has your hips eagerly tipping forward to offer yourself up to him on a platter.

“Cho?”

The neediness is evident in your wanton tone and Choso’s eyes perk up toward you, expectantly, wide-eyed obedience like a hungry dog before it's rewarded with a tasty treat.

“What you said you did to my panties, Cho?—m’do it like that baby.”

ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩

“OHHH GAWD—F-FUCK!”

Choso’s iron hold spreads your doughy thighs apart as his face imposes itself deeper into the fabric covering your creamy cunt, not allowing you to wiggle yourself loose.

When you told Choso to eat you like he did your panties you didn’t expect he’d actually keep them on you!

You’re discovering just how much Choso liked chewing on your panties—on or off you apparently. You’d tease him for the fetish if he’d ever pause to come up for air and give your poor lil’ puss a break from the carnal torrent of his feverish tongue.

Head bobbing back and forth in a rhythm all of its own, Choso is quite literally crying into your pussy, deliriously whimpering unintelligible praises of her—with no sign of stopping. At his complete mercy, your hands hold on to pigtails like reigns, except no amount of pulling gets Choso to put heel to his rampage—in fact it does the opposite.

Choso is obsessed with the whole of you—every shiver, twitch or cry he elicits from you encourages him to draw out even more.

How could he not be?

Especially with the delectable dish before him consisting of your translucent soggy panties gluing itself to the exact shape of your smooth inner folds and puffy clit. Completely saturated, a build up of slick, spit and tears suds atop the mesh creating sloppy spit bubbles in the wake of his mouth’s crazed motions. Bubbles which Choso eagerly slurps up again like a man who's been parched for days.

And truly he is—not wanting to remove his head between your heavenly thighs for even a moment lest he wake and discover this all to be a hallucination. He didn’t want to ever go back to only imagining this kind of bliss.

“Soooo g-good..GOD—S-Such…AH—g-good boy, Cho.”

Lost in the sauce of your sweet pussy, Choso gleefully continues—languid in his exploration but purposeful, you feel every flex of his dexterous muscle quivering in your pussy as he licks you from your swollen outer lips and into the folds of your inner labia.

Choso commits every groove of your cunt to his memory.

Only once you tense enough, arching your back and digging your nails into his cranium to push him towards her will Choso finally pay attention to your clit— his thick spongy tongue flattens, ensuring its soft bump texture scrapes across each and every nerve in your sensitive fleshy bundle. He’s feverishly making out with your bud to the point of making your actual mouth jealous.

Fuck, he was eating you like a pro and you haven’t even properly kissed him yet!

His skills are a total 180 degree shift from how novice he was just an hour earlier.

Obviously inexperienced, Choso’s first inclination was to latch his entire mouth over your clothed cunt, sucking and licking aimlessly, which honestly tickled at first more than anything.

Yet being the fast-learning good boy he is, Choso takes your instructions as well as your nonverbal cues to heart. Checking in with you often, his eyes darted up to you with innocent coos of ‘How does it feel, Mommy?’ reverberating into your core.

Not only does Choso take direction well, he proactively improvises.

You weren’t expecting him to start humming on your clit when you instructed him to suck it directly. Playing you like a harmonica, shaking his head and alternating between sucking and blowing. The insane waves vibrated into your cunt to stimulate every single pleasure point.

You’d never gotten eaten out so desperately before, let alone with your underwear still on!

More caring with your pleasure than his own, Choso has already pulled two mind-bending orgasms out of you. Dining on your savory cunt like it's his last meal, Choso’s greediness while drowning in your pussy is steadily taking you to number three.

To say Choso is pussy-drunk at the moment would be a massive understatement.

Choso is worshiping you like he had found God in your gooey lips and as far as he was concerned he has. Relentlessly grinding against the floor, shuddering and moaning into your cunt he’d gladly pray into your pussy as much as you’d let him, swirling his tongue as far as he could into your cute hole winking against your soggy panties.

From the noises he makes you think he’s already found enough pleasure of his own to soil his pants.

And you’re absolutely right.

Frantically rubbing his dick against your shared apartment’s plush carpet, the absolute elation he feels to finally taste you after all this time combined with the scratchy friction of the fibers prove too much for his needy virgin cock to bear.

Nevertheless, that doesn’t slow him, uncaring about the uncomfortable stickiness caking between his legs when his head is still very occupied between yours.

“Shiiiit, ah—fuh—W-waiiiit, baby…Chos—OH!”

Stomach clenching, eye rolling ecstasy takes over when his canine accidentally swiped over your overstimmed clit. The tension finally snaps and your legs jerk with the prickly pleasure of tingles running through them. Your lashes splash away the stream of tears filling your eyes from the third orgasm Choso has studiously pulled from you.

Choso shows no sign of stopping and while you’d happily let your little eater go to town on you all night, your pussy is screaming at you—you needed him to fill her up.

It takes all your strength to pry Choso’s face out of your cunt. His flushed cheeks are drenched and he appears dazed, a dreamy gaze in his eyes before distress instantly etches his features upon realizing he wasn’t suffocating himself in your pussy any longer.

“Nooo, Mommy pleaaaasuh! She’s s’p-pretty n s’creamy—s’wet… l-let me go back, kay?”

His deranged affectionate whines spur you to tug on his hair harder, keeping his attention focused on your face as you pose to him the question that has him ready to cum in his pants all over again.

“I know Cho, your mouth is s’good at getting Mommy’s pussy messy. But baby, don’t you wanna wet your dick in your girlfriend’s pussy next?”

Dumbstruck, Choso never considered that an option.

“Or are you just satisfied with stewing in your own cum filled pants?”

Truly, he would have been happy just setting up camp all night with his face lodged in your cunt. Yet you flipped the lights on in his mind again, reminding him of how much he’d wanted to feel you on his cock knowing it would be so much better than his calloused hands stroking him.

With a series of dopey headshakes, Choso is scrambling to remove his robes.

“Sorry, m’sorry!”

You couldn’t laugh at Choso for nearly falling over himself enthusiastically trying to shed his clothes, not when you’re just as wound up. Buzzing with lust, you're openly drooling seeing the massive stain on Choso’s white hakama as he sits back on his knees. Pushing down his pants, Choso’s cock rebounds bobbing back towards his belly and leaving glimmering traces of the prior mess he’s made.

You knew he was big but holy shit—he’s too fuckin baby girl to be carrying around such a deadly daddy weapon in his pants. It makes rock hard length all the more intimidating the way his mushroomy tip reddens as the pearly streams of his essence flow over the heavy vein swaying his cock forward.

“If you really mean it, then apologize to Mommy with your cock for wasting all her cum in those pants of yours.”

You’re way past the line of going too far already.

You know you are playing with fire teasing him like this, especially since the thick lines of his ability still activated even if the barbs were no longer on his face. He’d literally split you in two if he went too fast—and yet?

A part of you wanted him to break you.

Hovering over your form, like you were a delicate object while helping you pull off your last remaining articles of clothing. There's a mixture of both of your fluids webbing to your cunt as your panties—now destroyed with little holes scattering them from Choso him furiously gnawing on them like a teething puppy— are gingerly peeled off your skin.

Seeing you completely naked, Choso is stunned stupid.

Utterly stuck, he’s biting his inner cheek hard so he doesn’t cum just from the sight of you from your warmed cheeks, pert nipples, quivering belly and pussy glossy from leaking a steady stream of drool.

“Y-You’re perfect!”

Choso blurts out and you think you can feel the thumping in your pussy all the way up in your eardrums as you overload on his adorableness.

Spreading your legs wider you allow him to settle between your thighs, your hips slightly strain from accommodating his large body that completely dwarfs yours as Choso presses ope your thighs again.

His anticipation visible, Choso’s upper body is trembling, biting down on his lip as he cautiously runs his angry cockhead down your soaked slit.

“Shiiiiiiit.”

Drawing back Choso hesitates, the feel of even your pearly gland against his tip is almost too much.

“Umm, Y-You know what you’re doing Cho? I can get on—”

“NO! Um, y-yeah… I mean, I’d want that it’s, uh—I-I wanna make you feel good first if that’s okay, Mommy?”

Choso mumbles shyly, a determined look behind his bashefulness—so fuckin cute!

Oh yeah, you couldn’t wait for your turn to eat him the fuck up.

You’d settle for his lips though, tasting yourself on them you share your first real kiss while Choso is sinking inside your gummy core. The kiss doesn’t last long, only faintly grazing your tongue against his own before Choso is choking into your mouth. Unable to savor the kiss as he can’t even control the movement of his lips, just sneaking the very tip inside you near paralyzes him with pleasure.

Too warm, too wet and the fit much too tight—so it’s no surprise that when his hips dare to venture only a tiniest bit forward he's immediately cumming inside you with broken wails and sobs.

“M’sorry! M’sorry! M’sorry!”

Your mind is elsewhere, still delayed from your pussy getting stretched so wide from the mere girth of the cockhead just minutes after getting eaten like a last meal on death row—so you didn’t even consider how fast he would cum once he was inside you.

Telling him to pull out now would be pointless, especially considering how incredibly turned on you are by him shaking like a leaf from just putting his tip inside. Trying to thursy into you further has him collapsing down and crying nonsense into your neck.

A small smile is on your lips as you soothe him, amused with your pussy being Choso’s personal kryptonite. Hooking your arms under his, you stroke his shoulder blades whispering assurances.

“Just breathe Cho”

You’re also relishing the break it also gave you time to adjust, you were so full just from taking half of him. Your walls are slowly learning to accommodate his girth and clench around him, sucking him further in causing him to keen pitchy little moans as the pool of slobber increases down your nape.

Shit. You’re craving more.

You didn’t want to rush him as you can tell how just the smallest crumb of pussy has him in shambles, but your insides might burn up entirely if he didn’t start moving soon.

Your gentle touch slick with the sweat beading on his broad chiseled back, roams down until you reach his hips. Nails digging into the sides of his glutes for grip, you pull his pelvis forward and down. Teaching him just how to fuck you, you lead his twitching length deeper into your pussy before guiding his hips back up then down again.

Frankly, you think Choso might bust again from the deep groan he sighs when his long cock knocks against your cervix, fully sheathed in you. But your good boy proves to be a quick study yet again and it only takes a few cycles of training his hips before Choso adapts to a steady consistent rhythm on his own.

His eyes are screwed shut though, knowing from the videos he watched you wouldn’t be satisfied unless he could last longer for you. Certainly Choso would nut if he caught a glimpse of how nicely the peaks of your stiff nipples were bouncing or the lewd splash of creamy fluids from your cunt edging up your churning tummy like a tide.

It was almost too much on its own that Choso could still taste the sweet tang of your cunt on his lips knowing his cock was buried so deeply in her. Choso’s oral fixation getting the best of him, the desire to suck on all parts of you rose as he scoops you up slightly, arms wrapped around your back propping your chest up towards his mouth so he can suckle on your tiddies.

When Choso inevitably makes the mistake of opening his eyes. Your sweet face, twisted in rapture, eyes fluttering back in a way that nearly matches the fluttering of your cunt around him undoes him again.

Choso just loves you too much.

“G-Gonna cum, again—m’sorry Mommy! G-GUHHHHHHH. P-Pussy too good. Never wanna leave—never gonna leave your perfect pussy, Mommy. I’ll stay inside you like this.”

Deranged in ecstasy, head burrowed in the safe haven in your tits, Choso’s declarations feel more like threats. Mouth is still full of tiddy, Choso coos out more promises of loving you and your pretty pussy so good like you deserve and making up for the months he could have been doing this.

“C-Cho, baby, pull out if you’re g-gonna—”

Too late.

To his credit Choso, wasn't even doing it on purpose. His body is in auto mode. Your cunt crippling his brain too badly for him to have any real control and Choso fucking you more like a curse than a human in the moment.

You’d asked for it with your teasing though, you thought as another load of viscous warmth blooms into your guts. Initially you figured no harm since it was his first time, but you’re now losing count of the many times Choso has battered your puffed pussy into another orgasm and in turn busted in you.

Obscene sounds squelch out of your pretty pussy, his cum making it even easier for him to frantically buck his hips to slam against your g-spot with every thrust—growing wholly addicted to the feeling of sliding in and out of you.

His desperation for you has Choso manhandling you into different positions, all which you have Yuji and Todo to thank for sending him all their fap material. You didn’t know that though and you didn’t have time to wonder either when Choso has zero regard for the flexibility some of these positions require, yet obediently it’s your body bends to his will.

Your head is drowning in euphoria from getting fucked so savagely, it takes a while to realize that you’ve changed positions again. Now on your stomach, ass up and shoulder being held down as Choso is using your creamy pulverized cunt like his own personal fleshlight.

Your limbs feel weak and you’re cumming so hard now it’s almost painful, Choso reaches around to strum your abused clit while biting into your neck.

“One more time, Mommy! Please let me fuck you, one more time!”

Unfortunately for your poor pummeled pussy, that one more time was 3 rounds ago and your new boyfriend hasn’t gone soft yet—likely thanks to his blood manipulating abilities.

But since you manipulated Choso and yourself into a 3 month relationship it’s only fair he manipulates his cock into staying hard—right?

Choso has to make up for an entire 3 months of not fucking you tonight.

Good luck with that!

......RESULT: INCONCLUSIVE. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎, 𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜—𝚜𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚝’𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 '𝙼𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚢'.

that's not my jjk man series (visit series page for full animation)

i did not mean for it to be this long but got carried away as this the first time ive written virgin!choso.

comment and reblog! next up nanami, reworking it bit thats why I delayed it.

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marlsswrites · 4 months ago

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Summer camp AU, part 14!!

July 14th <3

Rejection - @jegulus-microfic - words: 590

First part Previous part

His eyelashes flickered slightly, the once darkness of his eyelids turning brighter and brighter by the minute. The once quiet of their room, with the occasional snore from James, had turned into birds singing and whispers in his ear.

“Regulus.”

There was no answer, only the piercing gaze of James that he could just about feel burning into his skin.

“Regulus.”

“Reggie.” A harsh rugged whisper in his ear, hushed like a secret that was shared between the two boys even though they were all alone. Alone..

He turned his head to the side, becoming face to face with James Potter, crouched down next to his bed with soft eyes scanning over him. He had a hand on Regulus’ cheek, tapping it to wake him up.

A groan.

He fought every urge he had within himself to lean into the hand, but his tired, sleep filled mine clearly didn’t get the memo as he leant into the warmth and safeness of his roommates hand.

Fingers traced over his cheeks, rubbing in circles then brushing over the small dimple lower on his cheek. Regulus wasn’t sure if James realised what he was doing, but oh did it feel sweet.

“Get up.” James spoke through a smile.

He grumbled, shaking his head and rolling his face to shove it directly in the pillow.

“Oh my god.” James ruffled his curls, he seemed to like doing that, touching Regulus’ hair. Not that Regulus was complaining, if it were up to him he’d have James’ hands there all night. “You’re so cute.”

And if Regulus wasn’t awake before, he surely is now.

Yes, Regulus knows he has a crippling fear of rejection, it’s been strung bone deep into him since he was a child. Don’t want to get hurt? Don’t offer your feelings up on a silver platter for everyone to see, simply hide them away within the dark depths of your head and pray you forget about them eventually.

So right now, Regulus could feel those feelings roaring from the back of his head as he watched James idly talk to a girl.

Of course he knew he had no right to be so jealous about the fact that James was speaking to Lily Evans, she was gorgeous and James was probably straight. Even though Regulus pondered on that point every time James looked at him with that adoring glint in his eyes. But that was surely just him being delusional, a man can dream.

He just settled for watching from a distance, and thinking, which probably wasn’t a good thing to do, as when his mind started going it never seemed to stop. It just flew memories and hopeful nothings through his brain, swiping through his life like it was fucking instagram.

Right now, for instance, that one quote from James wound round and round in his head.

You’re so cute.

Is that a good thing? Or was he treating him like a child, like his best friends adorable little brother? Honest to god, Regulus can read everyone, everyone but James, and it’s driving him insane.

Now on the way that James glared at Pandora while she lay on his lap, and how distracted James got just by a smile that he became an absolute mess.

How could someone be so happy, so genuine, so caring and selfless yet so impossible to figure out. Regulus was convinced there’s many layers to who James Potter is, and he wants to peel them away one by one and admire every single version of him.

Next part

#this is really short but I’m exhausted #so hopefully this’ll do #because they’re being cute and domestic again #who doesn’t love that???#marauders #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #james x regulus #jegulus microfic #jegulus fic #sunseeker #writers on tumblr #regulus x james #starchaser

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 8 months ago

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1968 [Chapter 2: Hera, Goddess Of Childbirth]

A/N: Enjoy Chapter 2 a little early! See you on Sunday for Chapter 3 🥰

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 5.4k

Tagging: @arcielee @huramuna @glasscandlegrenades @gemmagirlss1 @humanpurposes @mariahossain @marvelescvpe @darkenchantress @aemondssapphirebussy @haslysl @bearwithegg @beautifulsweetschaos @travelingmypassion @althea-tavalas @chucklefak @serving-targaryen-realness @chaoticallywriting @moonfllowerr @rafeism @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @herfantasyworldd @mangosmootji

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

You are buzzed at a private party in the Rainbow Room of Rockefeller Center, Midtown, February 1966, chandeliers and candlelight, pink and red hearts made of paper hanging from shimmering strings and littering the floor. Your roommate Barbara Nassau Astor—yes those Astors, Astor Avenue in the Bronx, Astoria in Queens, “the landlords of New York”—brought you along tonight, and the chance to be swept up into her glittering existence is precisely why your father sent you to a school like Manhattanville College of the Sacred Heart. Barb knows people who know people who know other people and every single individual in that grand design is wealthy and worldly and could possibly lead you into the generous arms of your future husband. You are from Tarpon Springs, Florida, heiress to a sea sponge fortune, and your father nurses powerful ambitions of intermingling his blood with the Northeastern elite.

You scan the selection as you sip your Pink Squirrel. You could marry a doctor and sit in the living room waiting for him to come home at 9 or 10 or 11 p.m., fix him a Whiskey Sour or a Sazerac, listen to him bemoan the complexities of nerves and veins before accompanying him to bed and repeating the whole process the next day. You could marry a lawyer or an advertising executive, and your fate would be much the same. Your own parents are partners in life and business, but you have seen enough to know how rare this is. These men of the Rainbow Room, 65 floors above icy streets radiant with headlights, want a wife whose hands will stay manicured and idle: nannies will tend to the children, maids will clean the house, mistresses will massage the knots out of the muscles of his back. And you—a relative upstart, new money among ancient bloodlines—will have no right to demand otherwise.

A man interrupts your reverie. He wants to know about the pendant you wear around your neck. You sigh before you turn to him; you resist the instinct to roll your eyes. And then you see him. Tall, blonde, blue-eyed, with a curious intensity and a teasing little smirk, an Old Fashioned in his grasp like molten gold. You don’t know it yet, but he is a senator from New Jersey, very recently elected, victorious yet still hungry. He steals the oxygen out of your lungs. He drowns you in the amber-musk warmth of his cologne.

“It’s Athena,” you say, touching your fingertips to the silver medallion self-consciously; and you are rarely self-conscious. The black polish has been scrubbed from your nails and replaced with a soft, shimmering champagne. You spent two hours this afternoon having your hair painfully teased and arranged into a Brigitte Bardot-inspired updo.

“Goddess of wisdom.”

“And war and peace. And math.”

“Math?” He is intrigued.

“That’s what I’m studying at school. Math.”

“And yet you are not disinterested in the humanities. You know Greek mythology.”

“Well, Tarpon Springs has a lot of Greeks, and that’s where I’m from, so.”

“Studies math. From Tarpon Springs, Florida. I’m learning everything about you.” He smiles, this magnetic stranger who has captured you like a moon lured into a planet’s gravity. He swallows a mouthful of his Old Fashioned, moisture glistening on his lips. “Do you like Greek food?”

You can’t seem to follow his words. Blood is rushing into your face, hot and dizzying. “What?”

“Greek food. Have you tried it? Hummus, tzatziki, gyros, spanakopita, horiatiki, baklava.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve had it. It’s great.”

“My family owns a house on Long Beach Island,” he says casually. “We eat a lot of Greek food there. You should join us for dinner sometime soon.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Very soon. Maybe this weekend. Are you free?”

No, you’re not; but you’ll cancel plans until you are. “Um, okay. Sure. And who…sorry, I might have missed it, but…who are you…?”

“Aemond Targaryen.” And he shakes your hand like you’re someone who matters. “I’m a senator. I’m trying to end the war.”

With him, you could be a part of something magnificent. With him, you could help save the world.

~~~~~~~~~~

Asteria is the goddess of falling stars, but the home of rising ones. On the north end of Long Beach Island, New Jersey—only 100 miles south of the sleek bladelike skyscrapers of Manhattan—lies the sprawling Targaryen estate. The nine-acre property features one main house and another three for guests, a swimming pool, a tennis court, a ten-car garage, a boathouse, a pier, and an ample stretch of beach that abuts the Atlantic Ocean, open water with nothing interrupting the infinite, miles-deep blue from the East Coast to the Iberian Peninsula. It is the first week of July, 1968, and your 23rd birthday. You are lazing in a lounge chair on the emerald green lawn and eating your third slice of melopita, a cheesecake-like dessert made with honey and ricotta. It originates from the Greek island of Sifnos.

“You two can’t murder each other while I’m gone,” Aemond says. He’s sitting between you and Aegon. His stitches have healed, the worst of his pain has subsided, his poll numbers have only improved since the assassination attempt. He has a glass eye that he can insert for public appearances, but he dislikes it; at home he wears a leather eyepatch that still unnerves the children. Tomorrow, Aemond is flying to Tacoma to campaign ahead of the Washington State Convention on the 13th. Most of the family will be joining him, with only three Targaryens remaining at Asteria: ailing Viserys, useless Aegon, and you, officially too pregnant to travel by plane. You are wearing a floral, flowing, two-piece swimsuit. The sun is blazing in a clear sky. The record player is piping out Time Of The Season by the Zombies.

Aegon waves a hand flippantly, then adjusts his preposterously large blue-tinted plastic sunglasses; he is shirtless, flabby, very sunburned. “I’ll barely be here.”

Aemond looks over at him, amused. “Oh yeah? And what pressing engagements do you have to attend to? I’d love to know.”

You take a bite of your melopita and scatter crumbs across the swell of your belly: seven and a half months along. “I’m sure the prostitutes miss him.”

“They do,” Aegon snaps. “I’m their favorite customer.”

“Well you’re a reprieve for them. It’s always over so quickly.”

Aemond is snickering. Aegon says to him: “23, huh? A 13-year age difference. She could almost be your daughter.”

“And 17 years younger than you. She could definitely be yours.”

“That’s how Aegon likes his girls,” you say. “Too inexperienced to recognize end-stage degeneracy. Still stumbling their way through Shakespeare for English class.”

“Why can’t she stay at the brownstone?” Aegon asks irritably. Aemond owns a historic townhouse in Georgetown for when Congress is in session, though he’s rarely been there since he announced that he was running for president.

“Because Doxie is here to make sure she’s taken care of,” Aemond replies. Eudoxia has been the head housekeeper of Asteria for decades, a formidable battleaxe of a woman who speaks very little English and has a seemingly endless supply of patterned scarves to wrap around her ink black dyed hair. There currently aren’t any permanent staff stationed at the brownstone, and Aemond does not trust strangers. “And because my future first lady is hosting a tea party on the 10th.”

“A tea party!” Aegon gasps, mocking you. “Surely that will patch the wounds of our troubled nation. She’s an inspiration. She’s motherfucking Gloria Steinem.”

“She’s Aphrodite,” Aemond says, beaming with pride, his remaining eye fixed on your belly. He’s lost one piece of himself, but in a month and a half he’ll gain another. “Goddess of love.”

“There must be a more appropriate mythological character. Medusa, perhaps. Lyssa was the goddess of rabies, Epiales was the goddess of nightmares.”

“Aegon, I had no idea you were so…” You search for the right word. “Literate.”

“Io was turned into a cow.” He grins at you, toothy, malicious.

“She’s also one of Jupiter’s moons,” Aemond muses. He draws invisible orbits in the air with his long, graceful fingers. “Beautiful, celestial, pristine…”

“A satellite,” Aegon says. “Mindless. Aimless. Going wherever she’s told.”

Aemond insists as he twists the bracelet around your right wrist, a delicate gold chain he bought during your honeymoon in Hawaii: “Aphrodite.”

“Didn’t she fuck around with, like, everyone?”

“Maybe you should be Aphrodite,” you tell Aegon.

Mimi appears, tottering across the lawn with the straps of her sundress sliding off her shoulders and her Gimlet sloshing precariously in its glass. The children are playing in the surf with the nannies and Fosco, who is entertaining them by diving for seashells and delivering his treasures into their tiny, grasping palms. Criston is supervising from the sand, though he steals frequent glimpses of Alicent as she feeds a wheelchair-bound Viserys—much diminished after a number of strokes—his own slice of melopita, one careful, patient spoonful at a time. “Can we…” Mimi bursts out laughing and almost falls over. She claws her way upright again using the back of Aegon’s chair. “Um…I was thinking…”

“What?” Aegon asks, annoyed, avoidant. If they’ve ever been happy, it was a transient epoch that came and went long before you joined the family. It was before the asteroid killed the dinosaurs.

“We should go back to Mykonos. We had such a nice time in Mykonos. Didn’t we? Didn’t we just adore Mykonos?”

Aegon sighs, glowering out over the ocean. “Yeah, we sure did. Ten years ago.”

“Exactly!” Mimi gushes, oblivious. “When can we go? Next week? Let’s go next week.”

“Mimi, you and the kids will be in Washington, remember?” Aemond says. Alicent will have to be her handler; usually it’s your job to make sure Mimi is ready for photos, eats enough to stay conscious, doesn’t trip over her own feet, doesn’t talk too much to the press.

“Washington?” Like she’s never heard of it.

“The state. Not the city. For the convention.”

“Oh right. Right.” She gulps her Gimlet. You could set your watch by Mimi’s drinking. Tipsy by lunch, drunk at dinner, crawling on the floor chasing the dogs around by 8 p.m. The Targaryens keep a drove of Alopekis, small and white and foxlike. “Well…maybe some other time.”

“After the election,” Aemond says with an abiding, encouraging smile. He tolerates Mimi because he needs her: happy wholesome family, American Dream. Down at the water’s edge, the nannies are giving towels to Fosco and the children as they scamper out of the frothing waves, Mimi’s five and Helaena’s three: Daphne, Neaera—no one can ever seem to spell her name correctly, least of all the six-year-old girl herself—and Evangelos.

Mimi departs, on the hunt for a fresh Gimlet. Aegon reaches into the pocket of his swim trunks—Hawaiian print, royal blue—and pulls out a joint and a Zippo. He sticks the joint between his teeth and goes to light it.

“No,” Aemond says immediately, yanking the joint out of Aegon’s mouth and stomping it into the earth. Then he points down the beach towards the sand dunes. “You know journalists will sneak around trying to get photos. You know we’re never truly alone out here.”

“They can’t tell what I’m smoking!”

“Don’t argue with me.”

“You know there are teenagers getting their limbs blown off in Vietnam right now? I think society has bigger problems than me smoking grass.”

“And yet to solve those bigger problems, I have to win in November. And the suburban housewives will not vote for me if they think I support legalizing marijuana. Trust me, I know. I’ve met them.”

“I wouldn’t want those people’s votes,” Aegon says derisively.

“You’d rather Nixon get them?”

Aegon doesn’t have a speedy rebuttal this time. He contemplates the Atlantic Ocean, the wind tearing at his hair.

“It’s hot as hell,” Aemond says to you, gathering up the newspapers he’s been leafing through, never not thinking about the election, never not strategizing. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”

As you accompany Aemond towards the main house—and of course you follow him, always, anywhere—Alicent waves you over to where she and Viserys are sitting to wish you a happy birthday again. From this vantage point, you can just barely spot Otto and Helaena strolling through her garden, a jungle of butterfly bushes and herbs. The stricken Targaryen patriarch beams at the swell of your belly. Viserys likes you, you are his favorite daughter-in-law, though perhaps this is not so lofty an achievement. Moreover, he likes that you are carrying the child of his decent son. Aemond has already decided on the baby’s name: Aristos Apollo. If it is in fact a boy, you suppose you’ll call him Ari, but he doesn’t feel real to you yet. He belongs to Aemond, to the Targaryens, to the nation, but not quite to you. He is more myth than flesh.

“Nothing is more precious than children,” Viserys tells Aemond, raspy and frail. “I would have had at least five more if I could.” Alicent bows her head, an acknowledgement of her failure in this regard. Viserys expects it. You and Aemond politely avert your gazes.

“Thank God for this baby,” Alicent says. “After the year we’ve had? That the whole world has had? We all need something to be grateful for.”

“Yes,” Aemond agrees, smiling. It must be the promise of a son that has made his maiming go down smoother, and maybe it is his soaring poll numbers too, and maybe it is gratitude that he escaped with his life, and maybe it is even the fact that he has you.

But long after dusk when you’re getting ready for bed—slathering yourself in Jergens, stepping into your chiffon nightgown—as you pass through the sliver of light pouring out of the bathroom, you catch a glimpse of something that stops you. Aemond is standing in front of the mirror with his hands on the rim of the sink, his eyepatch slung over the towel rack, his voided eye socket exposed and gory and irreparably wounded. There’s something in his scarred face that you can’t recall ever seeing before. There is a seething, secret, animal rage. There is fury for everyone who has ever denied him anything.

You remember who you were before you met Aemond at the Rainbow Room in Manhattan at a party you were almost not illustrious enough to attend. You wore your hair long and loose, you downed shots, you smoked, you swore, you slept through class almost every Monday; and then you packed all of this away in your allegorical attic and became someone who could stand beside a senator, and then a candidate, and then a president, someone who could tip the scales of fate.

And you think as you lurk unnoticed in the doorway: Maybe he’s been hiding parts of himself too.

~~~~~~~~~~

July 10th, 10 a.m. He’s snoring on a couch in the living room, the one patterned with sailboats. He’s hugging his acoustic guitar like a child clinging to a teddy bear. Sometimes he plays it for the kids: Get Rhythm, Twist And Shout, Stand By Me, You Can’t Hurry Love. That’s about the extent of his involvement in their lives. He has a law degree from Columbia that his father bought for him. Aside from a brief and disastrous stint as the mayor of Trenton, he has never been gainfully employed. You pour the cupful of ice cubes you collected from the freezer all over his bare chest.

“What the fuck!” Aegon screams as he startles awake. “What is wrong with you?!”

“The guests are arriving in two hours. And you’re going to help me host.”

“I’m not slobbering at the feet of those manicured elitists.”

“It’s easy to say ‘vive la révolution’ from your family’s mansion that you reside in as a professional failure.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I’m so worthless. If only I spent more time hosting tea parties.”

“I can’t small talk with governors and congressmen, so I have to charm their wives instead. That’s how it works, you idiot.”

Aegon rolls off the couch and rubs his forehead, wincing, hungover. In the dining room, Eudoxia is readying cups and plates, polishing silverware, folding napkins. The caterers will be here soon, and there are also three dishes that you made yourself: stafidopsomo, a bread with raisins and cinnamon; rizogalo, Greek-style rice pudding; and baklava you spent hours chopping walnuts for. At least one show of domestic prowess is an expectation, two is impressive, three is above and beyond, something for the other political wives to chatter about. You know the importance of making a good impression on them. They are as much a part of their husbands’ careers as the speech writers, communication directors, fundraisers. “I need a Bloody Mary,” Aegon groans.

“You need to pull your goddamn weight. Everyone else is working to get Aemond elected. Your five-year-old kid is out on the campaign trail and you can’t walk around with a tray of hummus and mini spanakopitas? Are you serious?”

“I’m dead serious,” he says, standing with some difficulty and then shoving by you. “Fuck off, Miss America.”

“Aegon!”

But he’s padding off towards the kitchen with his bare feet, tiki print boxer shorts, bedraggled hair. You follow after him in your spotless white heels and sundress patterned with common blue violets. Your earrings are pearls. You’ve wrangled your hair into a tidy French twist. Aegon is getting a pitcher of tomato juice out of the refrigerator, a bottle of vodka from a cardboard Apple Jacks box. He keeps booze and pills hidden everywhere; you’re always stumbling across his caches.

You open your mouth to unleash something hurtful, something hateful, but then you feel the cold flare of liquid on your thighs as the ocean breeze gusts in through the windows. My dress, you think, alarmed. What did I spill on it? One of the ice cubes you threw at Aegon must have caught on the skirt somehow and melted. That’s your first guess, and it is welcome; water doesn’t stain, and you aren’t sure if you have another outfit that is both formal enough and will still fit you. But when you reach down to touch your leg—now the liquid reaches your knees—your hand comes away red.

You look up at Aegon. He’s staring back at you, thunderstruck, horrified. His Bloody Mary ingredients are now forgotten on the countertop. He shouts for the housekeeper: “Doxie?!”

There is indistinct, cantankerous Greek grumbling in return.

“Doxie! Call an ambulance!”

“I don’t understand,” you say to Aegon, bright clotless blood dyeing the whirls of your fingerprints. I ruined my dress, you think nonsensically. “It doesn’t hurt. Shouldn’t it hurt?”

“Don’t move, don’t do anything, just wait for the paramedics.”

But the edges of your vision are going dark and hazy, and the room spins like a flipped coin. Your knees and ankles fold, bones turned to paper. As you drop, Aegon dives for you. You clutch at him, but there’s nothing to grab onto, no suit jacket, no tie, only skin that glows with sunburn. “If I don’t wake up, tell Aemond—”

“You’re not dying, bitch. My luck’s not that good.”

But his eyes are panicked; and they are the last thing you see before you black out.

~~~~~~~~~~

Arteries of cement, bones like lead, heavy eyelids opening to reveal strange white walls.

Am I dead?

But no: you hurt all over. Heaven isn’t supposed to hurt. There are needles pierced through the backs of your hands, a splitting rawness in your throat.

Was I intubated? Did I have surgery…?

You try to sit up. The pain is blinding; the severed and sutured latticework of your abdominal muscles is a pit of glass. You gasp, moan plaintively, fumble for the nurse call button on the wooden nightstand.

“Will you stop moving?” Aegon says as he walks into the room. He’s slurping on a straw that pokes out from a Dairy Queen cup. The fluid inside is clumpy and red. Instantly, you think of blood, and a wave of nausea punches through the shredded gore that was once your belly. Aegon flops down into the salmon pink armchair beside the bed and props his combat boots up on the ottoman. “They sliced you up like the Black Dahlia. You’re gonna rip your stitches.”

“They did a c-section…?”

“Yeah, you had some kind of uterus…thing. I don’t remember.”

The baby?? Is the baby alright?? “An abruption?”

More slurping. “No…I think it started with a P.”

“Previa?”

“Yeah, that one.”

You remember waking up a few times: on the kitchen floor as men were lifting you, in an ambulance as the siren shrieked. Someone said you were being taken to Mount Sinai in Manhattan. And that makes sense, that would have been Criston’s plan. Mount Sinai is one of the best hospitals in the country. You look around the room for a bassinet or a crib. Instead you see a wheelchair and a myriad of flower bouquets; word has already gotten out, and so the customary well wishes are pouring in. Lady Bird Johnson sent bluebonnets, the state flower of Texas; Abigail McCarthy sent lilies of the valley; Muriel Humphrey sent roses, traditional, safe, uninspiring; Pat Nixon sent blood orange gladioli. Mrs. Wallace, newly deceased, neglected to call a florist. “Where’s the baby?”

“He’s fine. He’s downstairs in an incubator.”

Ari, you think, though he still doesn’t seem real yet. “What…?”

“His lungs are underdeveloped. But the doctors think he’ll be alright. You want a Mr. Misty? There’s a Dairy Queen like two blocks from here.”

“No, I don’t want a Mr. Misty,” you say, incredulous. “I want to see the baby.”

“Well they can’t move him and they can’t move you, so you’ll have to wait.”

“I’m going to see him—” You swing your feet off the bed and feel daggers, fire, a splintering like someone has taken a hammer to your bones. You almost scream; it takes everything in you to choke it down and only gasp as your flesh becomes an inferno. I want a joint, you think randomly, an urge you’d believed you had exorcised from yourself, an archaic relic of a past life.

“Told you,” Aegon says smugly.

You lie panting, helpless, glancing at the phone on the nightstand. “Aemond knows?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve called everyone. He knows.”

“Good. So he’ll be here soon.”

“Sure,” Aegon says, perhaps a tad noncommittally.

“Okay.” You’re still trying to catch your breath. Tacoma is a six hour flight away. Even if Aemond doesn’t leave until morning, he’ll be here by sundown tomorrow. “You can go now.”

“Go?!” Aegon exclaims, then laughs, one of his reckless, taunting cackles. “Oh no. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You definitely are.”

“No, I’m not,” he insists, grinning. “For once in my life, I’m the person who’s exactly where he’s supposed to be. I’m the honorable one. The sacred heir of the favorite son has just been born, and the blessed mother has been sawed in half like Saint Simon the Zealot, and where is Aemond? Where is literally everyone else? Across the continent shaking hands and forcing smiles to win him the great state of Washington. I’m not going home. I’m collecting every second I spend here like coins from a slot machine. I won the jackpot, babe. No one is ever going to be able to call me the family fuckup after this.”

The pain is horrible, insurmountable; you can’t think through it. You close your eyes and try not to sob, to wail, to split yourself open in body and soul. I can’t let him see me break down.

“What’s up?” Aegon asks. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I want a Mr. Misty. Go get me a Mr. Misty.”

“Okay,” Aegon says doubtfully. “What flavor?”

“I don’t care. Not red.”

“They have orange, lemon-lime, grape—”

“Just pick one!” you shout, tears brimming in your eyes. Get out, get out, get out.

“Calm down, psycho!” he yells back, heading for the door.

As soon as he crosses the threshold, you snatch the call button off the nightstand and press it frantically until a nurse arrives. You get more morphine and sink into a stillness like deep water, down, down, down.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s dark outside, stars and a crescent moon. On the television is grainy footage from the Battle of Khe Sanh. American soldiers younger than you are dragging their wounded brethren to a Chinook helicopter for evacuation: bandages, burns, missing limbs and faces. Aegon had dozed off in his chair—assisted by an ample amount of Vicodin, surely—but is stirring awake now. He blinks groggily at the screen.

“It’s so fucking awful,” you say, and Aegon’s eyebrows shoot up; it’s the first time you’ve ever sworn in front of him. You trained yourself to stop when you met Aemond. “30,000 Americans dead, God knows how many Vietnamese peasants, Buddhist monks setting themselves on fire, and for what? So we can say we did everything we could to stop communism? So we can humiliate the Russians? There is no liberation of Vietnam. All we’re doing is making those people hate us. And we’re destroying ourselves too.”

“I didn’t know you cared about the war.”

You look at him, mystified. “Everything I do is about the war.”

“But you never really talk about it.” Aegon yawns and stretches, reaching up towards the ceiling. “You talk about Chanel dresses and tea parties.”

“Well yeah, because it’s…it’s unseemly, I guess. For me to speak on the war. Me specifically.”

He snorts. “Because you’re a woman? Who told you that? Aemond?”

You hesitate, watching the television again. Now there are napalm bombs incinerating villages and rice paddies. “I had a boyfriend before Aemond, you know.”

“What, in kindergarten? Chasing each other around the playground? Illicit snuggles beneath the slide?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “A real boyfriend.”

“No way. You did not.”

“I did,” you insist, smiling a little. “We met at a party my freshman year of college. He was at NYU studying…oh, I always forgot, that was one of our jokes. It was either archaeology or anthropology. I actually thought I was going to marry him for a minute there.”

“Scandalous.” Aegon is gazing at you with his murky blue eyes, grinning, playful. “What happened?”

“He had a moral crisis about poor kids getting shipped off to Vietnam to be slaughtered while he was tucked safely away in his ivory tower. So he enlisted, and honestly it was shocking how quickly I started to forget about him. We exchanged a few letters, it didn’t last long, I think he was forgetting about me too. But he ended up getting killed in action in October, 1965. His old roommate told me.”

Now Aegon is thoughtful. His crooked grin dies. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s his parents I feel bad for. He was an only child. I heard his father drank himself to death.”

“You’ve been carrying a story like that around with you and you never used it? Not in an interview or an article, not at one of your asinine little tea parties?”

“I can’t,” you confess. “Aemond doesn’t want me to. He doesn’t like to be reminded about…you know. That there was someone else before.”

Aegon throws his head back and cackles, combing his fingers through his disheveled blonde hair. “As if Aemond was a virgin when you met him.”

But it’s not the same. It isn’t to Aemond, and it wouldn’t be to the rest of the world either. It is your eternal disgrace. It is something you will be expected to atone for until you’re in the grave. “Give me a joint.”

Aegon is amazed. “What?”

“I know you have some, you always do. I want one. Give it to me.”

“You smoke grass?”

“I used to. Then I gave it up. But I’m making an exception.”

He gawks at you for a while, then slips a joint out of one of the front pockets of his green army jacket. He places it between his lips, lights it with his little chrome Zippo, and inhales deep and slow. Then he offers it to you.

“I don’t want herpes.”

Aegon laughs. “I don’t have herpes. I swear.”

“Not yet, maybe. Give it time.”

“Are you gonna smoke or not?”

You take the joint and fill your lungs with earth, floral notes, a tinge of spice. It’s been years, but it comes rushing back in an instant as the high hits your bloodstream: calm quiet weightlessness, a sense of wellbeing that fills the honeycomb hollows of your bones. “I need to see the baby.”

Aegon stalls. “The doctors were really insistent that you stay here.”

“And all the sudden you care about rules.”

He considers this, drumming his palms on his thighs. His jeans are ripped; he’s biting his lower lip. Then abruptly, he stands. “Alright.” He grabs the wheelchair and pushes it up against the bed. “Let’s go.”

You take another drag and then discard the joint in your empty Dairy Queen cup. You throw off your blanket and try to touch your bare feet to the cool linoleum floor. It hurts, it feels like razor blades, but you keep going. Then you remember you still have one IV in the back of your left hand. “Wait, how am I going to…?”

“You’re in luck. I am well-versed in needles.” Aegon holds out a palm. Nervously, you give him your hand. He peels off the medical tape, takes a moment to examine the vein, then slides out the needle so smoothly you don’t feel it at all; it barely even bleeds. He balls up a Kleenex from the box on your nightstand and secures it to the wound with the same strip of tape. “You’re welcome.”

“Junkie.” You try to lower yourself into the wheelchair and a yelp rips from your throat.

“Oh, this is pathetic,” Aegon says, but not quite unkindly. “Here.” He leans down in front of you. Too desperate to be prideful, you link your arms around the back of his neck. Aegon’s shaggy blonde hair tickles your cheek; his hands skim gingerly to settle on your waist, steadying you without too much pressure. He helps you into the wheelchair, where you collapse gasping and sweating bullets.

“If you ever mention this again, I will guillotine you.”

He winks. “Relax, little Io. I never kiss and tell.”

“I’d assume you’re usually too plastered to remember the details.”

“Be nice. I could roll you down a staircase.” But he doesn’t; he rolls you into the hallway instead.

The lights in the corridor are dim for night, for dreams. You see a few nurses shuttling in and out of other rooms from a distance, but none seem to notice you and Aegon. He steers the wheelchair into the elevator and you ride it down two floors, then cross another hallway and pass through a set of doors. There must be a dozen incubators, half of them occupied. The nurse on duty—currently cradling a tiny infant in her arms, a girl judging by the pink hat, and feeding her from a bottle of formula—gapes at you.

“Ma’am? You aren’t supposed to be—”

“Shut up,” Aegon tells her, and the nurse doesn’t say another word.

Aegon pushes the wheelchair down the line of incubators until you reach the one with a name card labelled Targaryen, Aristos Apollo. And there he is: unmistakably fragile, impossibly small, blue veins like a roadmap beneath translucent skin, tangled in tubes and wires. In his sleeping face you don’t see Aemond or even yourself, but rather an inexplicable familiarity. You feel like you’ve met him before. You feel like you’ve known him all your life.

You press your hand to the clear, domed wall of the incubator; shadows in the shape of your outstretched fingers fall over Ari’s face. “He’s real.”

“Of course he is.” Aegon is watching you; you can see him on the periphery of your vision, a blur of blonde hair and high cheekbones. When you turn to him, he immediately looks away.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing.” But his voice is distracted, bewildered, like someone fumbling for a light switch in a dark room.

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