#she inspired me to write my own pieces

[the-ace-of-fools]

Miraak kept silent. The stars glistened and his eyes glistened with them.

Time stood still.

[honeyed-disgraceful]

Maybe my people pleaser tendencies make me fake because I shouldve told those pretentious daddy money art kids they were right when they said "oh you're more of an artist than I'll ever be"

[reiderwriter]

I'm Your Fluffer!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader (best friends to lovers)

For @imagining-in-the-margins FWB Challenge!

Prompt: "I'm your boyfriend without the benefits." "Do you want the benefits?" "Yes- No... I'm your fluffer!" (Inspired by New Girl) (yes, I suggested this prompt, bo idc if that's cheating)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, choking, mentions of spanking, and butt worship, slight Dom Spencer, bratty reader, creampie. The classics, yk.

A/N: I'm back!!!! I took a break because I couldn't bring myself to even look at a word document for about a month, but there's nothing like a Pom challenge to get me writing again! I did have a lot planned for my 1 year anniversary, but because I was sick, and then busy, and then work got hectic, I had to put it off. I still am going to try to finish my kink bingo Carr, though, even though its a month late, but I had two fics left iirc, and I have both of them plotted, so I may as well! I will, however, be abandoning the final epilogue of I Can't Help Myself, because I wrote myself into a depressed corner with that one, and honestly, some people were getting very pushy about it, and it wasn't fun anymore. Anyway! This one was fun to write, so I'm going to stick to one shots for the foreseeable future, or incredibly limited series.

Masterlist

Spencer was your friend. A good friend. Your best friend, perhaps. A really good, very best friend.

Obviously, you were good friends because he always knew when you were feeling down. He bought you flowers regularly when he passed by flower shops. He came over to your place and helped you build every piece of flatpack furniture you had, which, as a single woman in your mid-twenties, was every piece of furniture that you owned.

You really looked forward to the movie nights the two of you had weekly. The popcorn, the blankets, the cuddling, his lips by your ear, in-time translating the foreign movies word for word as you watched it, the shivers down your spine as you pressed further into the heat of him.

Spencer was the best best friend you could ask for.

He was also the most frustrated.

“Kid, what are you doing this weekend? I'm thinking of hitting some clubs, you know, getting my groove on, maybe meeting A few ladies,” Morgan smirked, rubbing his hands together as he gently moved side to side, already dancing to himself as he anticipated his big weekend out. “You in, or are you in?”

“I can't. I promised Y/N I'd help her with some document digitalisation. We're going to order pizza and watch Star Trek while backing up her entire paper trail.”

The smile on Spencer's face was so stupid that Morgan had to stop himself from wiping it off of him immediately.

“Man, you are so down bad for that girl,” he mused, shaking his head.

“What? Down bad?”

“You like her. It's okay to admit it.”

“We're friends. I'm happy being friends,” Spencer said, picking up his bag and walking to the elevator desperate to escape a repeat of a conversation he'd already had three times that week.

“You know everyone thinks you're dating.”

“Well aware. Despite the number of times we've both stated to the contrary, people don't seem to accept ‘we're just friends’ when they hear it.”

“That may be because you're doing things that just friends don't do.”

“Everything we do is totally platonic.”

“You buy her flowers-

“I buy my mother flowers,” Spencer said, turning on the man and raising his hands in exasperation.

“You know that's different. Do you buy Emily flowers?”

Silence.

“What about JJ?”

“I bought JJ flowers!” He grinned triumphantly until the other man spoke again.

“When she was in the hospital. Giving birth. Okay, what about the movie nights?”

Rolling his eyes, the younger man walked on, pressing the bell for the elevator and allowing his friend to keep bothering him.

“Friends watch movies together, Morgan. We've watched movies together, are we dating?”

“One, you are not my type, pretty boy, and two, you didn't exactly have your dick pressed against my ass the entire time we watched a film now, did you?”

“Be q- be quiet. I don't have my dick against her ass ever.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, was it pressed against her stomach instead? I know she likes to lie on top of-”

“Derek!”

The elevator arrived, and the two quickly jumped in, to Spencer's relief.

“All I'm saying, kid, is-”

“Hold the elevator!” You shouted, running to it quickly with Penelope Garcia on your heels.

“Thanks, Spence!” You said, smiling at him as you entered the small space.

And continued your not too unsimilar conversation with Penelope.

“So, as I was saying Penelope,” you shot her a look that told her you were finished with the conversation. You were not dating Spencer Reid, and you were unlikely to in the future because of his total and complete lack of interest in you.

“You can set me up this weekend, right? It's been an age since I've been on a date, and I would really like to-” you glanced around the elevator and whispered the end of your sentence, suddenly mindful of your company. “You know.”

“If you're absolutely sure, I have a few men in mind that could throw you about, but-”

You squealed and squeezed the woman as the elevator landed on your floor and jumped out of the elevator quickly, cheeks burning.

“Thanks, Pen, you're the best!”

“Y/N, wait,” Spencer called out behind you, desperately holding the elevator open for a few more seconds.

“I thought we were doing your papers this weekend? Star trek, pizza, remember?”

You stared guiltily at the floor as you forced your voice to sound as casual as possible, not sure you could make any excuse that didn't sound pathetic.

“Oh, sorry, Spencer. I totally forgot. We can rain check, right? I… I really need this.”

Spencer was aware of what disappointment felt like, but it never hollowed out his chest like your lack of eye contact in that moment did.

“Yeah. Sure, of course. We can do that whenever.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Spencer. You're the best… friend.”

He smiled and let the door finally shut, aware of the two sets of eyes now watching him.

It took a surprisingly long time for the ‘I told you so’ to come, but come it did, as if Morgan were unable to help himself.

“You're telling me that you're not into her at all?”

“I'm…not into her like that at all.”

“And you're fine with me setting her up on a date with a man that'll do somewhat empowering, somewhat disgusting things with her?” Penelope piled on.

“What? That's…that's not my business,” he ground out.

“No. Of course it’s not. Because you're not her boyfriend.”

“Exactly, I'm not her boyfriend-”

“You're her fluffer.”

With a pat on the shoulder, the elevator hit its last stop, and Morgan exited, leaving Spencer scrambling after him as Penelope waved the two of them off.

“What? No, what's a fluffer?”

Morgan chuckled and waved him off, walking to his car.

“Come on, what's a fluffer, and why am I hers?”

“You've seen porn before, right?” The older man asked, pausing as he opened his driver side door. “Actually don't answer that. The fluffer is the person who keeps the actors and actresses… ready between takes. Prepares them for the good stuff.”

With a bright flush across his cheeks, Spencer tried his best for an indignant look, landing somewhat closer to a petulant child.

“I am not her fluffer. We have never-”

“I know you've never. If you had, we wouldn't be standing here right now having this conversation. What I'm saying is you should.”

“We're friends!”

Climbing into the car and closing the door, Morgan dismissed the younger man quickly, but he wasn't finished.

Knocking on the door, Spencer waiting a beat, then two for it to open again.

“I'm not her fluffer.”

“You build her furniture and cuddle with her. You're doing everything a boyfriend would do, without any of the boyfriend rewards.”

“What rewards?” he gasped, exasperated.

A single look was all the reply he got before Morgan out his keys into the ignition and started driving.

Spencer never made the decision to turn up at your house later that night. He just found himself all of a sudden at your front door on a Friday night, pulling out the key from the plant pot by the front door and letting himself in. Unlocking his shoes, he called out through the apartment, letting you know he was there as he slipped into the house shoes you'd bought him after the first of many movie nights.

“Spencer? We cancelled earlier, remember?” you said emerging from your bedroom, fitted in the tightest dress he'd ever seen you in. He already had no answer for your question, but seeing you like that, getting ready, he had no answer to any question at all. If you'd have asked him his name, he wouldn't have known it.

Well, he would've, but only because you'd said it only three seconds ago and had reminded him that he was, in fact, standing in your apartment when he should've been literally anywhere else.

“Um. I'm…I'm just-” he scratched the back of his neck, waiting for something to come to him.

“Spencer, I'm leaving in like an hour, so there's no time to watch a movie, and I have to get ready, so-”

“I'm… I'm angry?”

You raised an eyebrow at his questioning tone, unsure where this conversation was going.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah..yes. I'm sure. I'm angry. We, we had plans, and you gave me like an hours notice and cancelled them to go do something stupid-”

“Spencer! I'm going on a date. That's not stupid.”

“It is when you have me!”

He half shouted, half murmured the words, as if he himself were unsure of how confident he was in making that statement.

“That came out wrong-”

“Yeah, I think it did.”

“What I mean is- I mean…Morgan said that-”

You crossed your arms and sat yourself on the arm of your sofa, looking forward at him and waiting for him to get through whatever this was. You hoped the entire time that he was saying what you'd wanted him to say for the last year and a half.

“Have you ever watched porn?”

Not what you were hoping for, but a start, at least.

“Spencer!”

“That came out wrong, I- don't throw the couch cushions at me. I have a point, I swear!”

You lowered your next projectile and gestured for him to go on, not fully relinquishing it just yet.

“I'm your fluffer! I get you…in the mood for dates, and- and- I do all the boyfriend stuff without any of the boyfriend benefits!”

He stood in front of you, red-faced, and you stared him down a second or two as you collected your thoughts.

“Do you…want the boyfriend benefits?”

“Yes! No, wait - wait a second. I- I- What are the boyfriend benefits exactly?”

You threw the pillow down and turned your back on him, not entirely sure what you were expecting from the most oblivious genius on the planet.

“Y/N, wait. Wait-”

With a hand wrapped around your wrist, Spencer spun you around, and, tripping over your feet, you landed hard on your sofa. Your fall should've been relatively pain-free, but for the 6-foot man that landed directly on top of you.

“Get up.”

“What are the boyfriend benefits?”

“You should know if you're saying you want them! Now, get up!”

“Not until you tell me.”

“Spencer!”

“Y/N!”

You groaned and writhed under him, but he just dropped his weight onto you, unmoving, hands pinning your wrists lazily, leg poking between your two, hips pinning yours.

It certainly wasn't the closest you'd ever been, but in those circumstances, during that conversation, you felt more flustered than you had before.

“What are the benefits.”

“You really want me to say? You're not afraid it's going to throw off our friendship, ruin whatever good thing we have going?”

“I think that if you go out tonight, and enjoy your date, and get a boyfriend, that he's going to feel weird about this good thing we have going and it's going to be over anyway. Tell me.”

You desperately searched for a way out of this situation, but a stronger part of you wanted to simply wrap your legs around him and let him take as much advantage as he could.

You settled for disturbing him.

“Fine. A boyfriend would be able to spank me.”

“Y/N, be serious.”

“I am. I like it. A boyfriend would pull my hair back and make me count as he hit my cute round ass until it turned all red, and I couldn't sit down comfortably anymore. A boyfriend would then kiss it better.”

You'd never spoken about sex with Spencer, and you hoped the vulgarity would force him back to his senses. Instead, he didn't stir, and you had no choice but to continue.

“Another boyfriend benefit would be choking me. I like that, too. Are your hands big enough to wrap around my throat, Spencer?”

“Yes.”

The answer came so quickly and do confidently, you weren't sure you actually heard it outlook until he spoke again.

“What other benefits, Y/N?”

“A… boyfriend would get to cum inside me,” you whispered, suddenly aware of hips rocking into yours slowly as his cock poked up, listening intently to the promises spilling from your lips that you likely should've regretted.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I want the benefits.”

Your body was hot everywhere he touched you, but he didn't move, didn't follow through on anything just yet. But you were aware of his head moving closer and closer to yours and panicked.

“And what have you done? As my fluffer? To deserve those benefits?”

“What have I done?” He asked, pulling back an inch. Even as his chest rested, flush against yours, your breasts pushed up against him as his hands held yours over your head.

“I-I bought you flowers-”

“Emily buys me flowers, too. So does Penelope. Should I let them be my boyfriend?”

With your hands in use, you took advantage of his distraction and wrapped your legs up and around his waist, rolling your hips up into him.

“I suppose I do like flowers, though. What else?”

“I… We're always t-together?”

“We work together.”

Using the leverage of his weight against yours, you rolled up harder into his hips, grinding into him slowly as you watched his resolve melt away.

“The m-movie nights are-”

“The movie nights where you rut your cock into me while we watch a movie? Friends do that all the time. You're just translating the movie for me after all.”

“Y/N, please don't-”

“Don't say that? Okay. I'll just let someone else hump against my thighs to get off because you're too proud to admit you want to sink your dick into me and pound me?”

“Y/N-”

“Maybe that's why you don't have the boyfriend privileges, Spencer. Because I'm waiting for something, you're too much of a prude to try-”

His lips meet yours before you can finish the thought, and you're not sure whether it's a triumph or a defeat.

After precisely five seconds of his lips on yours, though, you no longer cared.

Releasing your hands gently, he lifted his hips an inch, distracting you enough to force his tongue into your mouth as his hand found its way between your legs.

“Did you really mean it?” He asked between kisses as you rake your hands through his hair, getting lost in him. “About the benefits?”

You allowed yourself to imagine it for a second, Spencer's hands on your throat. His hands on your ass. His mouth buried between your legs.

You moaned into his kiss, and he laughed - actually laughed - as he pulled away.

“Spencer!”

“No, no, please, don't let me keep you from your thoughts, I'll just be down here.”

His fingers reached your clit and he wasn't surprised to find you already wet, legs spread. Snaking another hand to your neck though, he wasn't exactly as opposed to the ideas you'd flung at him as he'd acted.

You gasped as his hand closed around your neck, the prettiest necklace you'd ever worn. You grabbed a hold of his hands as he pulled your underwear off, pushing them down your legs as he gently pushed your legs open wider and replaced his fingers with his tongue.

You curled up on yourself, craving your body to watch him devour your pussy as you tried your best to keep your breaths shallow, to keep breathing entirely as he squeezed your throat.

His tongue licked and flattened, his head bobbing up and down and then stilling as your hips began moving by themselves, letting you ride his face as you moaned and whined and desperately ran towards your climax.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulder, pressing down on his back to keep him in position, grabbing a handful of hair as you jerked against his face, fucking it as he looked up at you through hooded eyes, drinking down every drop of you.

His hold on your neck tightened, and you felt your body shudder as you squeaked out his name, not wanting this to end so soon, needing to feel more of this. He let you ride it out until you were whining in frustration again, hips twitching from the friction of his tongue against your cunt.

Then he pushed away.

He wasn't gone long, but you followed him up. You thought about pushing him down to the couch again, thought about sitting on his pretty boy face and doing it all over again. You thought of turning over and presenting your ass to him, letting him punish you like you'd promised. Your thoughts ceased as quickly as they came when he pulled his cock free of his pants, not even bothering to pull them off fully before pulling you into his lap, lining himself up, and pushing you down onto his hot, hard, lengthy cock.

You swear you would've screamed if his to guess hadn't already claimed your mouth. A good scream. A “holy shit holy shit holy shit” scream. Definitely a “I didn't know it was that big, and honestly I'm a little scared” scream. But overall, a “god that feels so good” scream.

From the lack of movement, you were sure that Spencer was giving you a moment to adjust to his intrusion, and you were thankful as you clung to his neck, hands balling in the material of his shirt on his back.

Although he was bigger than expected, he wasn't uncomfortably large, and you calmed quickly, giving him a quick nod as you buried yourself in his neck, hiding your face to stop yourself from drooling, mouth wide as he tipped you back against the couch pillows, lifting your legs slightly and slipping his hands underneath yous thighs, and began his steady pace of thrusts.

You were sure your world was imploding on itself, that all your senses had ceased except that of touch, and his touch was fire. But you heard the wet, slutty sounds of your pussy welcoming him, you smelt the sweat against his skin, and, opening your eyes, you saw the absolute pleasure blasted against his features as he groaned in your ear.

And before you could form another coherent thought, he'd claimed another boyfriend benefit, as, rocking his hips against yours, he slowed to a stutter as he emptied himself inside you.

“Spencer!!” you moaned, but he wasn't done, spitting on his fingers and finding your clit again as you squealed, twitching and turning and milling his cock with your movements as you found your second release.

You moaned his name again, though it sounded less like his name this time, and more like a definite noise complaint from your neighbours in the morning.

“Spencer?” you asked, still trying to regain your breath as he, once again, collapsed on top of you.

“Mhmm,” he said, slowly pulling out of you, watching the mess you'd made together drip out too, and resisting the urge to push right back into you and go again.

“Was that a friendly fuck, or a boyfriend fuck?”

His eyes snapped to yours again as you continued.

“I just want to give Penelope the correct reason for cancelling on her friend when I text her-”

“I came inside you.”

“So you did.”

“Y/N!”

“.... So that wasn't a fluffer thing, but a boyfriend thing, got i-”

With a kiss, he shut you up again, and you realized quickly that you probably wouldn't have the time to send that text anyway.

[mask131]

The truth about Medusa and her rape... Mythology breakdown time!

With the recent release of the Percy Jackson television series, Tumblr is bursting with mythological posts, and the apparition of Medusa the Gorgon has been the object of numerous talks throughout this website… Including more and more spreading of misinformation, and more debates about what is the “true” version of Medusa’s backstory.

Already let us make that clear: the idea that Medusa was actually “blessed” or “gifted” by Athena her petrifying gaze/snake-hair curse is to my knowledge not at all part of the Antique world. I still do not know exactly where this comes from, but I am aware of no Greek or Roman texts that talked about this – so it seems definitively a modern invention. After all, the figure of Medusa and her entire myth has been taken part, reinterpreted and modified by numerous modern women, feminist activist, feminist movements or artists engaged in the topic of women’s life and social conditions – most notably Medusa becoming the “symbol of raped women’ wrath and fury”. It is an interesting reading and a fascinating update of the ancient texts, and it is a worthy take on its own time and context – but today we are not talking about the posterity, reinvention and continuity of Medusa as a myth and a symbol. I want to clarify some points about the ACTUAL myth or legend of Medusa – the original tale, as told by the Greeks and then by the Romans.

Most specifically the question: Was Medusa raped?

Step 1: Yes, but no.

The backstory of Medusa you will find very often today, ranging from mythology manuals (vulgarization manuals of course) to Youtube videos, goes as such: Medusa was a priestess of Athena who got raped by Poseidon while in Athena’s temple, and as a result of this, Athena punished Medusa by turning her into the monstrous Gorgon.

Some will go even further claiming Athena’s “curse” wasn’t a punishment but a “gift” or blessing – and again, I don’t know where this comes from and nobody seems to be able to give me any reliable source for that, so… Let’s put this out of there.

Now this backstory – famous and popular enough to get into Riodan’s book series for example – is partially true. There are some elements here very wrong – and by wrong I do mean wrong.

The story of Medusa being raped and turned into a monster due to being raped does indeed exist, and it is the most famous and widespread of all the Medusa stories, the one people remembered for the longest time and wrote and illustrated the most about. Hence why Medusa became in the 20th century this very important cultural symbol tied to rape and the abuse of women and victim-blaming. HOWEVER – the origin of this story is Ovid’s Metamorphoses, from the first century CE or so. Ovid? A Roman poet writing for Roman people. “Metamorphoses”? One of the two fundamental works of Roman literature and one of the two main texts of Roman mythology, alongside Virgil’s Aeneid. This is a purely Roman story belonging to the Roman culture – and not the Greek one. The story of Medusa’s rape does not have Greek precedents to my knowledge, Ovid introduced the element of rape – which is no surprise given Ovid turned half of the romances of Greek mythology into rapes. Note that, on top of all this, Ovid wasn’t even writing for religious purposes, nor was his text an actual mythological effort – he wrote it with pure literary intentions at heart. It is just a piece of poetry and literature taking inspiration from the legends of the Greek world, not some sort of sacred text.

Second big point: The legend I summarized above? It isn’t even the story Ovid wrote, since there are a lot of elements that do not come from Ovid’s retelling of the story (book fourth of the Metamorphoses). For example Ovid never said Medusa was a priestess of Athena – all he said was that she was raped in the temple of Athena. I shouldn’t even be writing Athena since again, this is a Roman text: we are speaking of Minerva here, and of Neptune, not of Athena or Poseidon. Similarly, Minerva’s curse did not involve the petrifying gaze – rather all Ovid wrote about was that Minerva turned Medusa’s hair into snakes, to “punish” her because her hair were very beautiful, and it was what made her have many suitors (none of which she wanted to marry apparently), and it is also implied it is what made Neptune fall in love (or rather fall in lust) with her. I guess it is from this detail that the reading of “Athena’s curse was a gift” comes from – even though this story also clearly does victim-blaming of rape here.

But what is very fascinating is that… we are not definitively sure Neptune raped Medusa in Ovid’s retelling. For sure, the terms used by Ovid in his fourth book of Metamorphoses are clear: this was an action of violating, sexually assaulting, of soiling and corrupting, we are talking about rape. But Ovid refers several other times to Medusa in his other books, sometimes adding details the fourth-book stories does not have (the sixth book for examples evokes how Neptune turned into a bird to seduce Medusa, which is completely absent from the fourth book’s retelling of Medusa’ curse). And in all those other mentions, the terms to designate the relationship between Medusa and Neptune are more ambiguous, evoking seduction and romance rather than physical or sexual assault. (It does not help that Ovid has an habit of constantly confusing consensual and non-consensual sex in his poems, meaning that a rape in one book can turn into a romance in another, or reversal)

But the latter fact makes more sense when you recall that the rape element was invented and added by Ovid. Before, yes Poseidon and Medusa loved each other, but it was a pure romance, or at least a consensual one-night. Heck, if we go back to the oldest records of the love between Poseidon and Medusa, back in Hesiod’s Theogony, we have descriptions of the two of them laying together in a beautiful, flowery meadow – a stereotypical scene of pastoral romances – with no mention of any brutality or violence of any sort. As a result, it makes sense the original “romantic” story would still “leak” or cast a shadow over Ovid’s reinvented and slightly-confused tale.

Step 2: So… no rape?

Well, if we go by Greek texts, no, apparently Medusa was not raped in Greek mythology, and only became a rape victim through Ovid.

The Ancient Greek texts all record Poseidon and Medusa sleeping with each other and having children, but no mention of rape. And the whole “curse of Athena” thing is not present in the oldest records – no temple of Athena soiling, no angry Athena cursing a poor girl… “No curse?” you say “But then how did Medusa got turned into a Gorgon”? Answer: she did not. She was born like that.

As I said before, the oldest record of Medusa’s romance but also of her family comes from Hesiod’s Theogony (Hesiod being one of the two “founding authors” of Greek mythology, alongside Homer – Homer did wrote several times about Medusa, but only as a disembodied head and as a monster already dead, so we don’t have any information about her life). And what do we learn? That Medusa is part of a set of three sisters known as the Gorgons – because oh yes, Ovid did not mention Medusa’s sister now did he? How did Medusa’s sisters ALSO got snake-hair or petrifying-gaze if only Medusa was cursed for sleeping with Neptune? Ovid does not give us any answer because again, it is an “adaptational plot hole”, and the people that try to adapt Ovid’s story have to deal with the slight problem of Stheno and Euryale needing to share their sister’s curse despite seemingly not being involved in the whole Neptune business. Anyway, back to the Greek text.

So, you have those three Gorgon sisters, and Medusa is said to be mortal while her sisters are not. Why is it such a big deal? Because Medusa wasn’t originally some random human or priestess. Oh no! Who were the Gorgons’ parents? Phorcys and Keto/Ceto, aka two sea-gods. Not just two sea-gods – two sea-gods of the ancient, primordial generation of sea-gods, the one that predated Poseidon, and that were cousins to the Titans, the sea-gods born of Gaia mating with Pontos.

So the Gorgons were “divine” of nature – and this is why Medusa being a mortal was considered to be a MASSIVE problem and handicap for her, an abnormal thing for the daughter of two deities. But let’s dig a bit further… Who were Phorcys and Ceto? Long story short: in Greek mythology, they were considered to be sea-equivalents of Typhon and Gaia. They were the parents of many monsters and many sea-horrors: Keto/Ceto herself had her name attributed and equated with any very large creature (like whales) or any terrifying monster (like dragons) from the sea. The Gorgons themselves was a trio of monsters, but their sisters, that directly act as their double in the myth of Perseus? The Graiai – the monstrous trio of old women sharing one eye and one tooth. Hesiod also drops the fact that Ladon (the dragon that guarded the golden apples of the Hesperids), and Echidna (the snake-woman that mated with Typhon and became known as the “mother of monsters”) were also children of Phorcys and Ceto, while other authors will add other monster-related characters such as Scylla (of Charybdis and Scylla fame), the sirens, or Thoosa (the mother of Polyphemus the cyclop). Medusa herself is technically a “mother of monsters” since she birthed both Pegasus the flying horse and Chrysaor, a giant. So here is something very important to get: Medusa, and the Gorgons, were part of a family of monsters. Couple that with the absence of any mention of curses in these ancient texts, and everything is clear.

Originally Medusa was not a woman cursed to become a monster: she was born a monster, part of a group of monster siblings, birthed by monster-creating deities, and she belonged to the world of the “primordial abominations from the sea”, and the pre-Olympian threats, the remnants of the primordial chaos. It is no surprise that the Gorgons were said to live at the edge of the very known world, in the last patch of land before the end of the universe – in the most inhuman, primitive and liminal area possible. They were full-on monsters!

Now you might ask why Poseidon would sleep with a horrible monster, especially when you recall that the Greeks loved to depict the Gorgons as truly bizarre and grotesque. It wasn’t just snake-hair and petrifying gaze: they had boar tusks, and metallic claws, and bloated eyes, and a long tongue that constantly hanged down their bearded chin, and very large heads – some very old depictions even show her with a female centaur body! In fact, the ancient texts imply that it wasn’t so much the Gorgon’s gaze or eyes that had the power to turn people into stone – but that rather the Gorgon was just so hideous and so terrifying to look at people froze in terror – and then literally turned into stone out of fear and disgust. We are talking Lovecraftian level of eldritch horror here. So why would Poseidon, an Olympian god, sleep with one of these horrors? Well… If you know your Poseidon it wouldn’t surprise you too much because Poseidon had a thing for monsters. As a sort of “dark double” of Zeus, whereas Zeus fell in love with beautiful princesses and noble queens and birthed great gods and brave heroes, Poseidon was more about getting freaky with all sorts of unusual and bizarre goddesses, and giving birth to bandits and monsters. A good chunk of the villains of Greek mythology were born out of Poseidon’s loins: Polyphemus, Antaios, Orion, Charybdis, the Aloads… And even his most benevolent offspring has freaky stuff about it – Proteus the shapeshifter or Triton half-man half-fish… So yes, Poseidon sleeping with an abominable Gorgon is not so much out of character.

Step 3: The missing link

Now that we established what Medusa started out as, and what she ended up as… We need to evoke the evolution from point Hesiod to point Ovid, because while people summarized the Medusa debate as “Sea-born monster VS raped and punished woman”, there is a third element needed to understand this whole situation…

Yes Ovid did invent the rape. But he did not invent the idea that Medusa had been cursed by Athena.

The “gorgoneion” – the visual and artistic motif of the Gorgon’s head – was, as I said, a grotesque and monstrous face used to invoke fright into the enemies or to repel any vile influence or wicked spirit by the principle of “What’s the best way to repel bad stuff? Badder stuff”. Your Gorgon was your gargoyle, with all the hideous traits I described before – represented in front (unlike all the other side-portraits of gods and heroes), with the face being very large and flat, a big tongue out of a tusked-mouth, snake-hair, bulging crazy eyes, sometimes a beard or scales… Pure monster. But then… from the fifth century BCE to the second century BCE we see a slow evolution of the “gorgoneion” in art. Slowly the grotesque elements disappear, and the Gorgon’s face becomes… a regular, human face. Even more: it even becomes a pretty woman’s face! But with snakes instead of hair. As such, the idea that Medusa was a gorgeous woman who just had snakes and cursed-eyes DOES come from Ancient Greece – and existed well before Ovid wrote his rape story.

But what was the reason behind this change?

Well, we have to look at the Roman era again. Ovid’s tale of Medusa being cursed for her rape at the hands of Neptune had to rival with another record collected by a Greek author Apollodorus, or Pseudo-Apollodorus, in his Bibliotheca. In this collection of Greek myths, Apollodorus writes that indeed, Medusa was cursed by Athena to have her beautiful hair that seduced everybody be turned into snakes… But it wasn’t because of any rape or forbidden romance, no. It was just because Medusa was a very vain woman who liked to brag about her beauty and hair – and had the foolish idea of saying her hair looked better than Athena’s. (If you recall tales such as Arachne’s or the Judgement of Paris, you will know that despite Athena being wise and clever, one of her main flaws is her vanity).

“Wait a minute,” you are going to tell me, “The Bibliotheca was created in the second century CE! Well after Greece became part of the Roman Empire, and after Ovid’s Metamorphoses became a huge success! It isn’t a true Greek myth, it is just Ovid’s tale being projected here…” And people did agree for a time… Until it was discovered, in the scholias placed around the texts of Apollonios of Rhodes, that an author of the fifth century BCE named Pherecyde HAD recorded in his time a version of Medusa’s legend where she had been cursed into becoming an ugly monster as punishment for her vanity. We apparently do not have the original text of Pherecyde, but the many scholias referring to this lost piece are very clear about this. This means that the story that Apollodorus recorded isn’t a “novelty”, but rather the latest record of an older tradition going back to the fifth century BCE… THE SAME CENTURY THAT THE GORGONEION STARTED LOSING THEIR GROTESQUE, and that the face of Medusa started becoming more human in art.

[EDIT: I also forgot to add that this evolution of Medusa is also proved by strange literary elements, such as Pindar's mention in a poem of his (around 490 BCE) of "fair-cheeked Medusa". A description which seems strange given how Medusa used to be depicted as the epitome of ugliness... But that makes sense if the "cursed beauty" version of the myth had been going around at the time!]

And thus it is all connected and explained. Ovid did invent the rape yes – but he did not invent the idea of Athena cursing Medusa. It pre-existed as the most “recent” and dominating legend in Ancient Greece, having overshadowed by Ovid’s time the oldest Hesiodic records of Medusa being born a monster. So what Ovid did wasn’t completely create a new story out of nowhere, but twist the Greek traditions of Athena cursing Medusa and Medusa having a relationship with Poseidon, so that the two legends would form one and same story. And this explains in retrospect why Ovid focuses so much on describing Medusa’s beautiful hair, and why Ovid’s Minerva would think turning her hair into snake would be a “punishment fit for the crime”: these are leftovers of the Greek tale where Medusa was punished for her boasting and her vanity.

CONCLUSION

Here is the simplified chronology of how Medusa’s evolution went.

A) Primitive Greek myths, Hesiodic tradition: Born a monster out of a family of sea-monsters and monstrous immortals. Is a grotesque, gargoylesque, eldritch abomination. Athena has only an indirect conflict with her, due to being Perseus’ “fairy godmother”. Has a lovely romance with Poseidon.

B) Slow evolution throughout Classical Greece and further: Medusa becomes a beautiful, human-looking girl that was cursed to have snake for hair and petrifying eyes, instead of being a Lovecraftian horror people could not gaze upon. Her conflict with Athena becomes direct, as it is Athena that cursed her due to being offended by her vain boasting. Her punishment is for her vanity and arrogant comparison to the goddess.

C) Ovid comes in: Medusa’s romance with Poseidon becomes a rape, and she is now punished for having been raped inside Athena’s temple.

[As a final note, I want to insist upon the fact that the story of Medusa being raped is not less "worthy" than any other version of the myth. Due to its enormous popularity, how it shaped the figure of Medusa throughout the centuries, and how it still survives today and echoes current-day problems, to try to deny the valid place of this story in the world of myths and legends would be foolish. HOWEVER it is important to place back things in their context, to recognize that it is not the ONLY tale of Medusa, that it was NOT part of Greek mythology, but rather of Roman legends - and let us all always remember this time Poseidon slept with a Lovecraftian horror because my guy is kinky.]

EDIT:

For illustration, I will place here visuals showing how the Ancient art evolved alongside Medusa's story.

Before the 5th century BCE: Medusa is a full-on monster

From the 5th century to the 2nd century BCE: A slow evolution as Medusa goes from a full-on monster to a human turned into a monster. As a result the two depictions of the grotesque and beautiful gorgoneion coexist.

Post 2nd century BCE: Medusa is now a human with snake hair, and just that

[junkissed]

ocean view

member — junhui x f reader genre — romance, smut, strangers to lovers, soulmate au word count — 8.8k synopsis — an all expenses paid trip to greece for your friend's wedding seems too good to be true, but it gets even better when you meet a handsome stranger on the beach. with the help of a mysterious old lady, her magic deck of tarot cards, and one too many coincidences, you're starting to believe things really do happen for a reason. warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, unprotected sex, fingering, marking, an oddly romantic one night stand, mentions of past hookups, reader wears dresses, way too much yearning, happy ending ! notes — my part for the @svthub world tour collab; check out the masterlist here! thanks to @multi-kpop-fanfics for answering all my questions and the biggest thanks ever to @onlymingyus for proofreading & helping me brainstorm throughout !! inspired mostly by the spell mv but also a little bit from nana tour and in the soop bc of the vacation vibes. disclaimer i know nothing about tarot but i did a ton of research so i hope that part makes sense anyway :) this fic was a huge challenge to write so please please reblog if you enjoyed reading, the feedback is super appreciated and it helps me keep writing!! read bonus material here!

they say time flies when you’re having fun.

it felt like just days ago when your best friend had announced she was flying everyone to athens for her destination wedding. between helping prepare for the wedding and getting yourself packed for the trip of a lifetime, a weekend on the beach sounded like exactly what you needed to unwind.

but now that you’re here, you’ve quickly realized that your dreams of lazy spa days, massages, and lounging on chairs in the sand with cocktails aren’t on your friend’s itinerary.

what is on her itinerary, however? clubs. lots of clubs, and bars, and raves.

the night before the wedding, you’d showed up at the place you had all planned to meet at for her bachelorette party, a popular bar right on the beach in the center of everything. you hadn’t been sure what to expect, so you’d worn your swimsuit underneath your sundress just in case. between wedding plans and jet lag, you hadn’t yet had the chance to explore the beaches, and you weren’t about to let your favorite white strappy one-piece go to waste without wearing it the whole trip; especially not when you’re surrounded by gorgeous clear waters you don’t get to see while you’re at home.

you tug at your dress a little awkwardly, a simple off-white piece with buttons all down the front. cute and casual, the perfect thing for an evening on the beach. except an evening on the beach is not what you’re getting.

“next round is on me!”

all the girls let out a cheer, clapping and whooping as they raise their glasses. you’re still not even halfway through your first drink; the night is young, but your friends are more enthusiastic partygoers than you are.

you lean away to check the time on your phone, trying not to feel defeated when you see how early it still is. you’ve been trying to hype yourself up for tonight all weekend, but it doesn’t help that your friends are bigger partiers than you. that isn’t to say that you dislike parties, or that you never go out; but parties like this, huge events with hundreds of people packed into a small space with loud music and flashing lights, aren’t really your ideal way to spend a saturday night. even for such a special, rare occasion like a bachelorette party in another country, you can’t bring yourself to get lost in the scene. you should’ve known how this would go, and yet here you are, standing at a cocktail table by yourself surrounded by drunk women.

you turn back around and suddenly the bar is a sea of unfamiliar faces, everyone around you lost in their own worlds jumping and dancing to the music that booms from the speakers. you stand up on your tiptoes to see above the crowd, trying to push your way through in search of someone you recognize, but it seems like they’ve all vanished.

the pounding of the music is starting to give you a headache, so you down the last of your drink and head away from the bar, pushing past people until the crowd eventually starts to thin and you break out into the open air.

it’s still light outside, but the contrast from the darkened bar makes it feel like stepping into another world. the noise gets quieter the farther away you move, and you find your feet carrying themselves down the beach. you walk backwards, turning to look over your shoulder one more time to see if you can spot your friends, but all you see is a crowd full of strangers.

it’s easier to breathe out here, feeling the freshness of the ocean breeze and the salty air in your lungs as you get further and further from the people and the businesses. you turn around again and almost run straight into a man walking from the opposite direction, and you stumble into his arms before you realize what’s happening. you let out a little squeak in surprise and jump backwards, almost tripping over your own feet but his hand instinctively shoots around your waist to help keep you upright.

your cheeks burn with embarrassment, an apology already ready on your lips, but he beats you to it. “sorry,” he says with a shy laugh, slowly letting go of you and offering his hand for balance as you slip your sandal back on that had come off. he steps back and gives you a polite smile, trying to move out of your way. “you look like you’ve got somewhere to be.”

“the opposite, actually. escaping my friend's bachelorette party," you explain. 

"we're in the same boat, then," he chuckles, tucking his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "trying to ditch the bachelor party. it’s a popular place for weddings, huh?”

“seems like it.” you hum, turning to look out over the water. the setting sun glints off the surface, a clear and bright sparkling blue, and you lift your hand to keep the glare out of your eyes. “i just didn’t think it’d be so…”

“…hectic?” he asks, and you laugh a little.

"yeah, you could say that.” a warm breeze ruffles through your sundress, and you cross your arms over your chest. “i guess all weddings are like that, though.”

he nods, following your gaze off into the horizon. you go quiet, listening to the music still loud in the distance and the sound of seagulls cawing above your heads. "i was hoping to get a chance to explore more of the beaches while i'm here. i don’t get to see it often."

"wanna go for a walk?” you ask suddenly, uncrossing your arms. maybe it’s the fresh air of a new place, maybe it’s the comfort of finding another person wanting to get away from it all, but some part of you wants to stay here and find out. you’d wanted to see more of the landscape anyway, and now seems like as good a time as any, especially now that you’ve got company.

he looks over at you, judging your expression before his face softens. “that sounds perfect.”

it’s still early enough that the beach is still mostly full of tourists, adults lounging on towels while reading books and kids splashing water at each other and playing in the sand. you walk further down the beach, passing in front of a grey haired old woman sitting cross-legged on a towel, shuffling a deck of cards in her wrinkled hands.

"always lovely to see couples enjoying the islands,” she calls out to you. there’s an almost rhythmic lilt to her voice, and it’s so sudden that it makes both of you pause and turn around, having paid her no mind as you walked past before. she gestures down at the deck and you finally notice that she’s holding a set of tarot cards, a deep matte black that seems to glitter and sparkle even while shadowed. “would you like a reading?”

your cheeks start to warm, and you push down the butterflies that flutter to life when she assumes you’re together. "oh, no, we're not—”

"sure," jun says over you, and you sneak a glance up at him when you think he's not looking. "how much?"

she clucks her teeth and shakes her head, staring directly at you although she’s answering his question. "no, no, no, my dear. just offering a bit of friendly advice. won’t cost you a thing."

jun nods, but she seems like she’s waiting for your answer so you quickly nod, too. “okay. what… do we have to do?”

she places her palms over the deck and closes her eyes, falling silent. you stand in front of her, feeling a little awkward to be hovering over her like this, but she it’s like she doesn’t even notice. you share a look with jun, but after a beat he grabs your hand and grins as if to say, just go along with it.

her eyes suddenly fly open and she seems pleased with whatever she was doing. “i knew i could feel it,” she says cryptically as she begins shuffling the cards. “but let’s just see what fate has to say about it.”

she stops and pulls the top two cards from the deck, placing them face down on the towel as she motions at them with her hand. at her signal, jun bends forward and turns over one of the cards, reading it aloud. “ace of cups.”

“ace of cups,” she repeats. “an invitation. the open, uninhibited flow of emotions, creativity, and love; the awakening of your spirit. this is a new beginning for you, the start of a new season. trust yourself and your feelings, and embrace the opportunity to grow with your emotions.”

jun nods seriously like he’s taking in her words, but you can see the hint of a smile at the corner of his lips that he’s trying to suppress.

she looks at you expectantly, and you hesitate before realizing she’s waiting for you to flip over the second card. you cheeks heat as you read it, but you try not to let it show. “the… lovers?”

she smiles, and although her face looks kind you have a sense that there’s something she’s not telling. “the lovers,” she says, almost solemnly. “many people think this card is strictly about romance. and in some ways it is, but what it really represents is a choice. two diverging paths, two responsibilities. will you choose with your head, or with your heart?”

she stares at you for another moment, then looks back at jun. you both stay quiet and still, subconsciously hanging on her every word as she pauses, clearly having more to say. “having these two cards come up together… now, that’s fascinating for you two, isn’t it?”

you find yourself nodding silently, although you have no idea why. you feel jun’s hand in yours, warm and soft and grounding, and the smallest shiver runs down your spine.

“the lovers and the ace of cups are the potential for new beginnings and the fulfillment that comes with following your heart,” she says, her eyes locked with yours. “this is a very powerful and meaningful connection, but only if you make the choice that is most heartfelt. you must be willing to be your most authentic self and hold nothing back. keep your eyes open, and you will be rewarded with profound joy and happiness.”

immediately you turn to look at jun to see his reaction. he looks just as confused—but is that a hint of excitement in his eyes?—as you do. the woman’s words are… cryptic, to say the least, but it stirs up a feeling of excitement in the back of your mind that you’re trying to ignore. it probably doesn’t mean what you think it does, right?

"hey, wait, so what does—”

you turn back to look at the woman for another explanation, but there's no one there. the beach is empty except for you and jun and the slowly setting sun, a few boats tied up at the dock. you’ve walked so far down the beach that even the distant music has faded into obscurity and you’re left standing alone together, surrounded by nothing but the sounds of the waves. even the wind has died down, and it feels eerily quiet but in an almost comforting sort of way, to be alone together in a place like this.

"you believe in that kind of stuff?" you ask curiously as jun starts to walk away.

"mm… not really. but she seemed like a lonely old lady. i thought it'd make her day." he looks down at your entwined hands and squeezes lightly, almost teasing as you look up and see the grin on his face. "why, do you?"

you can't help the butterflies that instantly flutter to life in your stomach when you feel his warm hand in yours, but you shrug. "why not?"

jun doesn't reply, just nodding thoughtfully as you continue to walk hand in hand. 

with the way the atmosphere has suddenly changed, it feels like time has stopped as you meander your way along the edge of the water. you chat off and on with jun, but there’s a hefty amount of silence that neither one of you feels obligated to fill. talking to jun feels like talking to an old friend, and maybe it’s the beautiful scenery or maybe it’s the way both of you had found yourselves here looking for company.

after a while you come to a stop just below the rocks where you’d started. your footprints from where you’d run into each other are still visible, little indents in the damp sand, and it reminds you of what you were running away from in the first place. maybe you don’t want to run anymore. 

"well…”  jun says, inhaling slowly. "we should get you back to your friends. i'm sure they're looking for you."

"would it be so bad if i said i didn't want to find them?"

he pauses to gauge your reaction, and you don’t miss the flicker in his eyes as he looks at you. after a moment nods and points up the shallow cliffs, towards a little stone staircase worn down from years of being travelled on. "my hotel is just up there. if… if you wanted to stay a little longer? with me?"

you pull your lip between your teeth, looking up at him and the way the fading sunlight shines through his soft brown waves, and it only takes a second to make your decision. “i’d really like that.” 

it turns out that missing out on your friend’s party for a few more hours is an easy price to pay for more time with jun.

the door of his hotel room barely has time to shut before your hands are on each other. you tug him closer by shirt with an eagerness you rarely allow yourself and he immediately reciprocates, pulling you by the waist until you’re pressed chest to chest.

his hand skims over your collarbone towards your neck, and you shiver at the warmth of his fingers caressing the side of your jaw. he angles your chin upwards and leans in as you meet him halfway and your lips finally touch, a low sound escaping from your throat as his nose brushes your cheek.

he makes a soft noise as he inhales, deepening the kiss until you feel your knees go weak. his hand cups your jaw harder, trying to draw you further into him, unwilling to break apart. he kisses you so softly yet you can still feel the intensity behind every movement of his lips, exploring your mouth with a gentleness that feels more natural than anyone you’ve ever kissed before.

jun curls his arm around you tighter, and you’re sure he can hear how fast your heart is beating as he kisses you again and again until you’re breathless. you slide your hands away from his chest and start to undo the buttons at the front of your dress, but he stops you. you look up and meet his gaze as his hand on your cheek moves to wrap around your waist, carefully walking you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall back onto it.

he lets out a quiet groan as you pull him down with you, landing on top of you and catching himself on his forearms beside your head. his face is inches away from yours, staring into your eyes for a beat before he presses down to capture your lips again.

his kisses feel like magic, and you almost forget exactly what you’re here to do. you’d be content to spend hours with his lips on yours and nothing else, but you’re quickly pulled away from it when he sits back and starts to slide his hands down your body, his nimble fingers skillfully undoing the buttons of your dress one by one.

he pulls the fabric away and lets it fall to the floor before leaning to kiss you again, and a grateful sigh slips from your lips at his touch. your fingers tug at his shirt and he breaks away once more to quickly pull it off over his head, tossing it behind him without a second thought.

your hands slide earnestly across his body, your fingertips trailing down his torso and the deep lines of his abs. his fingers brush over your swimsuit in tandem, tracing the cutouts of the fabric where your skin is visible and making you prickle with goosebumps at his touch.

he seems equally as content to just continue doing this, but eventually his hands make their way upwards and gently slip the straps off your shoulders. he doesn't move any further than that, waiting for you to move instead, his fingers resting at the base of your neck just beneath your chin. 

you follow his actions and shimmy the suit down, letting it bunch up at your hips. only then does he finally break apart from you, moving his mouth down to your exposed breast and letting his tongue glide over your peaked nipple. your skin tastes like salt and sweat, like sunny days and warm breezy nights, and he can't get enough of you.

the first moan you let out is like music to his ears, and immediately he craves more of them. he wraps his mouth around your other nipple while keeping his hands attached to your body like magnets, desperate to be the one to draw more of those pretty noises from your lips.

you lift your hips just a little and he quickly gets the hint, wordlessly pushing his fingers between your skin and the fabric of your swimsuit before tugging it all the way off. he pulls it down your legs and you help him kick it away, leaving you completely bare beneath him.

your hands slide across his shoulders and up the back of his neck, tangling in his hair with another moan that sends a shiver down his spine. you can’t help but roll your hips upwards against his body, squirming for more friction as your nails scratch at his scalp.

his face stays buried in your chest for a long time, moving between your breasts and planting wet kisses all along your skin. your head is spinning at the sight of this gorgeous man working his magic on your body, his hands wandering up and down with a tender purpose. you don't even know his name but you already know you're gonna be thinking about this night for months, probably even years. you're shocked at how good he is at this; there's a melancholy feeling looming in the back of your mind, knowing that this is probably the first and only night you’ll get to spend with him, but you don't have time to focus on that when you have the tingly feeling in your stomach to focus on instead.

despite not saying anything aloud you can tell exactly what he wants from you, and something about how easy this is sends a feeling of relief through you. all of the mistakes of your past hookups feel like a distant memory. there’s none of the empty conversations meant to do nothing more than fill the silence and the awkward, tentative movements that you’ve become accustomed to from strangers who aren’t familiar with your body. 

but something about the way jun touches you does feel familiar, like you’ve been waiting all your life for it, for him. his silence, something that most of your partners in the past had fought so hard to avoid, now only leaves more room for you to enjoy the sounds that often go overlooked: the wet hum as his lips connect with your skin, the distant crash of waves outside the window, the quiet whir of the ceiling fan.

jun leans down and kisses you again, shifting on top of you as his hand wanders down your hips. you pull him closer and let your hand travel a similar path, and you bite your lip in excitement when your fingers skim over the bulge straining against his shorts.

he lets out a strangled noise almost like a whimper at the contact but the sound only encourages you to add more pressure, soaking in his reactions. he whines again, pushing his hips into your hand and exhaling a shaky breath as you continue to palm him, feeling the hard outline of his cock as he struggles to keep his composure.

his knee is against your thigh and he repositions himself to press it higher between your legs, returning the favor and giving you something to grind on. instinctively your legs widen a little to give him easier access, and he rewards you with another hot, messy kiss.

you groan at the feeling, pushing your hips down towards him and rubbing yourself on him. it’s a little rough at first, but you’re already so wet that it doesn’t take long before his knee is coated in your arousal and you slide along him easily. 

after a minute he pulls back just an inch, giving you room to breathe, but one hand is still on your hip and the other curled behind you to support your neck. “good?” he asks breathlessly, and even though it’s clear as day that you’re enjoying this as much as he is, you still nod and give him an encouraging smile, and he returns it with a smile of his own. “just let me know,” he says, and the sultry yet sweet tone of his voice makes your heart skip a beat.

at your approval his hand begins to wander again, trailing over the top of your thigh. his finger slowly make their way down and you shiver, your hand stilled against his abdomen as you anticipate his next move.

you take this moment to get a good look at him; you’d been too shy to stare earlier on the beach, unsure how things were going to go. but now that he’s on top of you, shirtless and obviously just as eager as you are, you let your gaze roam unabashedly across his body. your eyes glide over his torso, the hollow slope of his collarbones and his hardened nipples, the deep-set grooves of his abs and the faint lines of his ribs beneath his skin. you want to reach out to touch him and run your hands over every inch of him, but you’re trying to be patient. and although you know your time here is limited, it seems like jun is only just getting started.

his fingers finally make it to your inner thighs, tracing the area around your pussy, but it’s still not close enough for your liking. you wiggle a little to try and encourage him, whining softly and letting out a little plea. his lips quirk up and he nods, his grip on the back of your neck tensing and tangling in your hair. 

his fingers finally brush against your entrance and you gasp, writhing at how gentle his touch is. he dips his middle finger into your heat before pulling it back out, trailing upwards to your clit to circle it for a moment before heading back down and repeating the process. it’s barely enough, yet it leaves you breathless almost instantly.

he’s staring down between your legs with an intense focus, spreading your arousal around before sinking back into you for more. and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, he pushes his finger in deeper, holding it still for a second even though you’ve already adjusted to it. he waits until you start moving, arching your back and trying to get him to go further, before he adds his ring finger and begins slowly thrusting both fingers in and out together.

you whimper and curse under your breath, trying to roll your hips to match his rhythm. he starts to curl his knuckles and you swear you see stars, despite the fact that he’s barely moving at all.

after a moment when you’ve regained the ability to breathe normally again you start to move your hand back against his bulge, shaky fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his shorts. you wrap your hand around him and your eyes widen at the thickness, the heavy weight of him in your hand and how you’re sure he must be aching by now. you feel the way his cock jerks when you squeeze ever so slightly, his fingers inside you freezing for a split second as his brain tries to process before he plunges them in even deeper, curling into you with even more fervor than before.

you hold him tighter and run your thumb over his tip, swollen and leaking with precum. he gets a little noisier with every move you make, unable to contain the pleasure he gets even from this. even the smallest touches from each other have both of you on edge in a way you’ve never felt before, drawn to each other like no one you’ve ever had before.

his clothes in the way are starting to frustrate you, so after another second you release his cock and move your hand up to the waistband of his shorts instead, trying to tug them down but it’s difficult from the position you’re both laying in.

“please,” you pant out desperately after having little success, and he obliges, pushing his shorts away as fast as possible before resuming his motions. he’s still almost completely ignoring himself as he continues to focus on you and only you, and his complete devotion gives you another boost of confidence.

now freed, his hard cock slaps against your thigh and you moan happily at finally being able to see all of him. it looks even better than it felt, thick veins bulging out across his length and his tip flushed a deep red. you wrap your hand around him once more, flicking your wrist as you start to jerk up and down.

his fingers curl upwards to massage the spot that makes your eyes roll back, and if you had any functioning thoughts left you would’ve marvelled at the fact that he was able to find it so easily, but you’re too busy arching your back against his pillow to think about that.

he can feel you starting to clench harder around him, making his fingers stutter inside you, so he pushes his other hand down on your hip to stop you from moving so much. he pulls his fingers out and your eyes dart back up to his face for an explanation, unable to stop the whimper that escapes from you at the loss, but the look in his eyes instantly puts you at ease. you can already tell he knows what he’s doing, and somehow he seems to know exactly what you need, so for once you don’t mind sitting back and letting someone else call the shots.

“can i fuck you now?” he murmurs, and it takes you a second to even hear what he said because you’re shocked at how low and rough his tone is since the last time you heard him speak. he wipes his fingers against the inside of your thigh as he waits for your reply, and you shiver at the cool wetness on your skin.

the best you can manage is a stuttered “yes”, and without a word of acknowledgement he pulls you off the bed, guiding you off your back and onto your hands and knees.

you let out a squeak at the sudden change but you let it happen, and a second later you hear his voice beside you, his breath warm against your ear. “still okay?” he asks, and despite the gruffness in his voice you can still hear the soft edge to his words.

“yeah,” you repeat, suddenly losing the ability to say anything else to express your pleasure, but somehow you know he understands. your stomach flutters at the low tone of his voice, steady and calm but so full of warmth and lust.

you feel the heat from his face move away from your skin, and you know he’s sitting up on his knees behind you. his hands slide down your sides, reaching under you to cup your boobs with both hands as he groans at the feeling. you let out a matching whine, pushing your hips back against him to feel his hard length against the soft flesh of your ass.

his hands still holding your breasts, he leans down over you to keep you flush to his body, your back pressed against his chest. he presses a kiss in between your shoulder blades, letting his tongue trace lightly over the ridges of your spine.

you grind backwards against him harder, your body on fire from his kisses as he starts to suck gently at the back of your shoulder. you’re not sure if it’s hard enough to leave marks, but you kind of hope they do, because then you’d be sure this encounter wasn’t a dream. what other explanation is there for the fact that you’ve not only met the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, but that you’re currently on your hands and knees in his bed as he runs his lips over every single inch of you, waiting for him to fuck you? it’s too good to be true.

but it is true, and you know it when he pulls away to brush your hair to the side and expose more of your back for him. his fingers are still so gentle against your skin, his touch heavy but soft, and it makes you even more desperate for him.

after a while he lets go of you and leans back, taking his cock in his hand and gently tapping it against your ass. you groan and fall forward, pressing your face into the pillows and arching your hips up into the air. his hands slide down your sides, gripping your waist with a low groan as he leans forward to kiss the side of your neck again.

he finally pushes all the way into you, and it feels so good it takes your breath away for a second. you can feel your walls throbbing around him, struggling to adjust to the feeling of being so full in the best way, a way you haven’t felt this strongly in so long. it’s a feeling like no other, and it makes you wonder why you ever settled for anything else before this.

his hands are all over you like he can’t decide what to do first, but after a while they settle at your hips and give them an encouraging squeeze, waiting patiently for you to set the pace. finally you bring yourself to move, tipping forward to let him slide out of you just a bit before you lean back into him.

he adapts quickly to your rhythm, thrusting in and out and matching your pace, using his grip on your waist for leverage to push himself deep inside with every stroke.

“fuck,” he moans under his breath, finally breaking the silence, and with just that one sound you feel yourself starting to let go.

the words tumble out of your mouth and you ball your fists into his sheets, clinging to the bed to keep you grounded while your head is spinning. “please, please, yes—”

everything finally hits you all at once, like a tidal wave pouring over you as you fall forward and bury your face into the pillow with a broken whimper.

“don’t stop, please,” you whine breathlessly. your words are muffled by the pillow, but you can tell he’s heard them because his grip on your hips tightens even more, slamming into you with just as much force as before and carrying you through your orgasm.

jun has to bite his lip not to sail right over the edge with you, focusing all his energy on holding himself back until he feels your body go limp all at once, the waves finally subsiding and you let out a deep, pleasured exhale. he’s so close he can practically taste it, his skin flushed and damp with sweat and his abs burning with exertion. only once he’s absolutely sure that you’ve finished cumming does he let himself break, pulling out as fast as he can and wrapping his fist around his length with all the energy he has left.

he moans weakly at the loss of your tight, warm walls hugging him so perfectly, but the view as he jerks himself over you all but makes up for it. the sight of your ass pressed flush against his thighs, your lower back arched and on display like a gorgeous blank canvas, and it gives him such a rush until he can’t hold on anymore.

the warm, sticky liquid hits your back and you whimper into the pillow, instinctively lifting your hips even more towards him. his cum spurts out in thick ropes, painting your skin and pooling in the little divot at the base of your spine, running down your ass until it feels like you’re soaked in it.

he finally pulls back and lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in, groaning as he sees you sitting still on the bed with your hips in the air. you feel the bed shift with his weight as he gets up, but you don’t pay any attention to it as you focus on trying to steady your breathing instead. something in your gut tells you to stay put, and sure enough, a minute later you hear the sink running and then feel the cool fabric of a damp washcloth brushing over your back.

he lays his hand on your ass and gently gives it a little squeeze to signal that he’s finished, and you finally fall over onto your side. you’re coasting on cloud nine, and everything feels both dulled and hypersensitive at the same time. the whir of the overhead fan is a little more prominent now, and the quiet drone echoes around in your brain.

“do you need water? or do you want a snack, or something?” jun asks, and while his voice still has a touch of shakiness as he’s recovering himself, you can tell his tone is back to the gentle and polite sound you’ve become used to hearing from him.

you shake your head, and he hums softly in acknowledgement as he points to the nightstand on the side of the bed closest to you. “there’s an extra water bottle there, if you need it. i haven’t opened it.”

you nod against the sheets, suddenly too tired to even think about forming words. jun climbs back onto the bed next to you, stretching out his long limbs and leaning against the headboard with a satisfied sigh. 

you surprise yourself when your body automatically reaches out for him, curling into his body and laying your hand across his forearm like a weight keeping him close. but what surprises you even more is when he mirrors the action, scooting closer to you and letting your head rest against his stomach. your first thought is that he makes a very comfortable pillow, and you let your eyes fall shut for a moment as your breathing returns to normal, wanting to savor this moment as you collect yourself and prepare to leave.

you open your eyes what feels like minutes later, but when you reach over to check your phone you realize you’ve been asleep for more than an hour. you inhale slowly and swallow, blinking a few times as the sore feeling in your hips reminds you of where you are.

instinctively, you start to panic a little. your friends are probably looking for you. you disappeared without telling anyone, and now you have to get back to your hotel and make sure you have enough time to sleep properly and get ready for the wedding in the morning. never mind that it was probably the best night you’ve ever spent with another person, and never mind that your friends are probably still out partying and haven’t even noticed you missing yet.

you slide off of the bed as quietly as you can, stumbling a little when your feet hit the floor. you crouch down to pick up your swimsuit off the floor and put it on, hopping on one foot as you slip each leg through the holes. it's darker outside now, but the street lamps and the moonlight shining through the sliding glass door that leads to the balcony of his hotel room are bright enough that it still feels like day. you're so focused on getting dressed and mentally running over your to-do list that you completely forget there's another person in the room until you hear his voice cutting through the silence.

“you don’t have to do that, y’know.”

you freeze and look up, your half-buttoned dress hanging loosely from your shoulders, your cheeks burning at the realization you’ve been caught.

jun swings his legs off the bed, crossing the room in a couple of strides before he’s standing in front of you. he’s wearing nothing except for the boxer shorts he threw on right before you fell asleep, and your cheeks flush even harder at the sight, despite the fact that you’ve already seen much more of him than this.

it takes every ounce of restraint you have to keep your eyes from straying, locked on his face before your gaze falls quickly to the floor where your sandals are left in a heap.

you didn’t mean to sneak off. but what else were you supposed to do? you hadn’t meant to fall asleep and stay as long as you did, either, and now you were stuck with the awkward conversation that always comes afterwards. the inevitable hurried goodbyes and uncomfortable tension as you try to put yourself back together and leave as fast as possible.

jun takes a small step closer to you, and despite all the confidence you know he has, it feels almost… tentative. as if you’re meeting for the first time and he isn’t sure whether or not he’s allowed to touch you yet.

there's a lingering feeling that you can't quite put your finger on yet. it's conflicting, because you know you can't stay but everything in you is screaming not to leave. maybe there's something you can do, anything you can do. is it all worth it? to turn your life around in a complete 180 for someone you barely even know— and yet, the last few hours that you’ve spent with him have been incomparably the best of your life.

after a moment he reaches out and starts to finish buttoning your dress for you, his fingers working them back through the loops with just as much care as he did when he was taking them off earlier.

“sorry,” you manage quietly, though you’re not even really sure what you’re apologizing for. a lot of things: sorry for running away, sorry for having feelings you probably shouldn’t be feeling, sorry for knowing this won’t work out despite the way you really, really wish it could.

but he just shakes his head as he finishes buttoning the last button. “i took it off. i can help you put it back on, too.” you can tell he knows what you had actually meant, but he’s ignoring it either for your sake or his. something about his words feels so easy, like all the problems in your head don’t mean anything anymore. here you are, an anxious and awkward and confused mess, and there he is, smoothing out the wrinkles in your dress like it’s something he’s been doing all his life.

he adjusts the strap on your shoulder with a gentle pat, but his hands linger for a few seconds longer than they should, and you lift your eyes to meet his. “can i kiss you again?” he asks quietly, and for some reason his choice of words sticks with you. not one final kiss, not a goodbye kiss, just again. like he’s refusing to admit this will probably be the last time you’ll ever see each other.

and you nod, and his hands slide up to cup your cheeks and pull you back into his lips, just as warm and just as soft and just as familiar as the first time. there’s something so innocent about kissing him, even in the midst of a complicated and confusing mess of emotions that makes you second guess everything. somewhere in the back of your mind you vaguely register that this is the last time you’ll ever kiss him, but as long as his lips are on yours it doesn’t matter. you’ll figure out how to deal with all that later; for now, the only thing you’re concerned about is the way he grips your chin and pulls you even closer.

it feels like hours later when you finally pull away, letting out a slow exhale as you try to blink yourself back to reality, and you know what has to happen now. “can you find your hotel on your own? do you want me to walk back with you?” jun asks, and you can feel the hesitancy in his voice.

“it’s not far,” you sigh quietly, turning away to slip your feet into your sandals that wait by the bed where you’d taken them off earlier. you should’ve said yes. “but… thank you.” your words hold a sincere weight to them, and it’s silent for a few seconds as you cross the room quicker than you want to.

“you could stay,” he says finally, but his hand is already on the doorknob and you both already know the answer. you hate that you have to be the one to tell him no, even though it’s been clear from the start what the outcome would be. you give him a small shake of your head, and he pulls on the knob. 

he stands and stares for a minute, watching you walk down the hallway and praying you’ll turn around. and then you do, glancing back at him over your shoulder, and he almost allows himself to have a little bit of hope that you might come back, even though you both know you can’t. when you find him still standing in the doorway your eyes light up just the slightest bit, and finally you disappear with a tiny little wave.

the door clicks shut again, and the silence that follows is louder than anything he’s heard all day.

“and you didn’t even get this guy’s number?!”

you wince at the tone in jeonghan’s voice, rubbing the back of your shoulder guiltily. “his name, either.”

“even after the magic old lady said all that shit about soulmates?”

“she didn’t say that!” you huff. your tone rises almost defensively, although it probably has no reason to. she didn’t say anything about being soulmates… right? “she said something like, ‘keep your eyes open for stuff around you’. but he said he didn’t even believe in it, anyway.”

a waiter carrying a tray of champagne glasses walks past, and he snags a couple of them, holding one out to you. “well, it doesn’t sound like you’re keeping your eyes open. it sounds more like your eyes are closed, actually. are you blind?”

you scowl and take the glass from him. “my flight home is tonight, hannie. i’m not gonna see him again.” you take a sip, letting it sit in your mouth for a second before you swallow. “and besides, he said he was here for a wedding, too. he could be from anywhere in the world. it would be impossible to find him.”

“doesn’t hurt to at least try.” you both stop in front of a circular table covered in flowers, with a little placard next to one of the plates with jeonghan’s name on it. “i guess this is my table. you want me to help you look for yours?”

you shake your head, pointing to a table a little ways away. “i saw mine on the way in, it’s over there.”

“whatever,” he hums at you, but you know he’s just teasing. “i still wouldn’t blame you if you ditched and ran off to try and find him.”

“not happening!” you call over your shoulder as you walk away, matching his playful tone. but you can’t help but feel like maybe he’s right.

jun taps his fingers against the table, staring mindlessly at the bubbles floating in his glass of champagne. he’s stuck in his head— no, that’s not right. that’s not the problem. you’re stuck in his head. it’s nearly a full day later and he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you, the taste of your lips, the feel of your breasts in his hands, the scent of the shampoo in your hair. if that wasn’t the most perfect hookup in the history of hookups, then he doesn’t wanna know what is.

he still feels bad for not even paying attention during the ceremony, because he was too busy imagining you and him up there on the altar kissing instead. god, what he wouldn’t give for another kiss like that. but just like you, he knows it never would’ve worked out, and despite the what-ifs that are chewing him up inside and the fact that he definitely, absolutely, totally would’ve tried to make it work however large the distance was, he knows it’s probably for the better. even if it means he’s gonna spend the rest of his life pining after a girl he met on vacation for less than a single day, and he’ll never even know your name.

he takes a swig of his champagne and tries to put on a cheery face. this is a wedding, after all, and he can’t afford to spend all his time pouting when he’s in a beautiful city by the seaside enjoying delicious food and near perfect weather.

and then he sees you.

not really, of course, because it’s probably the champagne going to his head after chugging the majority of his glass like a frat boy at a college party. but then he blinks, and it really is you, wandering around for a second before you sit down at a table on the other side of the venue, wearing a soft blue dress that’s even prettier than the one he saw you in yesterday.

he blinks again, not fully believing that it’s you and not just the combined effect of the alcohol and his daydreams, but you’re still there when he opens his eyes again. and he knows it’s you, because he can see the faint hickies on your back and shoulders that you clearly tried to hide with makeup but couldn’t fully reach.

the chances that he’d see you again—not even that, but the chances that you’d be attending the very same wedding he was—must be one in a billion. maybe even more. yet there you are, picking at your nail and staring wistfully at your empty plate as you wait for the reception to start.

he stares for another minute, just to make sure you’re actually real, before he stands up and makes his way to the terrace at the back of the venue where the groom is standing next to a tower of cupcakes.

“gyu,” he greets him, “hey. are we allowed to switch tables?”

“i… don’t think so?” mingyu hums, a little off guard by the sudden question. “i made sure we put you next to hao, but—”

“if i give you twenty bucks, can you put me at table 8 instead?” jun’s eyes flicker with desperation, and he has to force himself not to look back over at you.

mingyu whines apologetically and hesitates, glancing at his bride a little ways away as she talks to a table full of guests. “she did all this planning, jun, i can’t just change everything now…”

“it’s not changing everything.” jun pulls his wallet out of his pants pocket, already rifling through the bills. “i’ll make it a hundred. mingyu, please, just switch me,” he says.

the whine in jun’s voice makes him pause, and he bites his lip as he considers it. on one hand, he could have his brand new wife a little bit mad at him for a while (who’ll probably forgive him the second she gets in bed with him tonight), plus get to help his friend and get an easy hundred dollars out of it. or, on the other hand… he could not help him, and his wife would never know, and jun would probably hate him for some unknown reason even though he doesn’t think jun has a single bone in his body capable of hating anybody. the decision is easy.

mingyu takes the bills from jun’s hand and stuffs them in his pocket before anyone can notice. “go ahead,” he says, tossing his head in the direction of the table. “i don’t know what it is you want, but don’t let anybody see you.”

“thanks! i owe you!” jun grins and hugs him, letting out a noise almost like a squeal before he turns and dashes away.

you’re barely paying attention to the reception anymore as you sit with your chin in your hands, again mentally running over all the things you need to pack and how on earth you’re going to be able to board your flight tonight and leave everything behind. the beaches, the city… and him. how are you supposed to just get on a plane and get on with your life, knowing that he’s out there somewhere in the world, and you’re never going to see him again. 

you’re trying not to sulk, but you can’t help the way your mood has been sour all morning, already filled with regrets and you haven’t even left yet. maybe you should’ve skipped the wedding altogether and spent another day in his bed, wrapped up between his sheets and lying in his arms. but then the rational part of your brain reminds you that he was also in town for a wedding, so even if he’d wanted to or even been okay with doing that, he probably had other plans anyway.

you’re still trying to figure out what to do about your hopeless situation when you hear a sound close behind you. it startles you into putting a smile on your face, preparing yourself to socialize although you really aren’t in the mood to.

“is this seat taken?” jun asks as he pulls out the chair to your left and sits down.

your brows furrow in confusion, trying to place the familiar voice, until you turn around and your jaw drops when you see who it belongs to.

you stare at him in shock, your eyes darting back and forth between his trying to figure out what to say. “you’re not joshua,” is the best you can come up with as your mouth hangs open and you whip your head around to check the list of names assigned to this table. you recognize them all, yet here he is: the nameless stranger you’ve fallen so helplessly in love with in so short an amount of time.

he smiles at your reaction, and it’s such a genuine smile that you know he’s feeling exactly the way you do right now. “i guess you’re right. i’m not.” he brushes the name card in front of him to the side and sets his own down in its place instead before he holds out his hand to shake. “it’s nice to meet you. i’m jun.”

you pause for a minute, staring at his hand. you can’t believe this is real, you can’t believe he’s real; you’d almost been able to convince yourself that the whole encounter last night was a fever dream, if you hadn’t woken up in the morning with a soreness between your legs that screamed that it definitely was not a dream.

finally you reach out and take his hand, and even in that little touch you can tell it really is him, from the way your heart picks up when you feel the familiar softness of his skin and the gentle squeeze that sends goosebumps down your arm.

“it’s nice to meet you, too.”

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[astraystayyh]

The snow falls, we fall apart.

summary: when heartbreak looms on your life, and winter becomes a time you loathe, hyunjin helps you rewrite your memories with the season, and with it, everything you once believed about love.

genre: producer student!hyunjin x reader. roommates!au. friends to lovers. acute descriptions of heartbreak and general sadness. slow burn. hurt/comfort. healing and hopeless romantic hyune. very inspired by long for you so lots of pining and yearning. (wc: 13k)

warnings: mentions of alcohol. it is implied that reader was in an a very toxic relationship but no details are shared.

a.n: happy birthday to my hyunjin, my muse, my light. thank you for being so full of love that it made me love love again in return. this is i think my most personal piece, and i hope it reminds those who need it that love should be soft and kind, that it shouldn’t hurt, that it should heal not break. i love you guys and i love you my xi, writing this collab with you has been a true honor <3 also!! please listen to long for you while reading :,)

winter falls masterlist.

You’ve only ever felt utter despair twice in your life.

First, when you were seven years old, playing hide and seek with your cousins at your grandma’s house. It was a warm summer afternoon, the air sweetened by pastries you devoured hours ago. You decided to hide in a wooden cabinet up in the attic, only to end up stuck there. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, the oxygen seeping away from the cracks underneath the door, leaving you deprived of air, of life.

Second, at twelve, when you've come to discover sorrow's new facet, clad in grief's heavy cloak. Your parents adopted a hamster for your birthday, but they did not know he had a terminal disease. You were distraught, to say the least, when you awoke to its still form, death claiming a frail heart unaware of its imminent fate.

And now, third, many many moons later, you are knocking on Hyunjin’s door a few minutes after midnight. It is cold out, tears tracing rivulets on your cheeks, your fingers tinted pink from roaming outside in the harsh winds, your heart much heavier than when you were a child. More grief-stricken, at your own hands, this time.

A disheveled Hyunjin opens the door, his blonde ash hair tousled and sticking upwards, a clear indication of the many times he had run his hands through it in fits of frustration. His gray hoodie zipped up hastily, revealing the silver cross necklace he was wearing, nestling perfectly against his honeyed skin.

You've always had an aversion to seeking comfort, saw it as revealing your deepest vulnerabilities to a world that isn't always kind. It was easier, much simpler to do so when you were a clueless child— when you sank in your cousin Lia's hold as she attempted to steady your breathing, when your mother cradled you in her lap after Pinky died.

It is much harder now, much more embarrassing because Hyunjin has never seen you this sad, never glimpsed your shadows that now swarm his doorstep, unannounced.

“What's wrong?” he quickly asks, eyes darting over your figure in a rapid search for visible wounds. He wouldn’t find any. All your injuries stem from within— blood doesn’t have to be spilled for your heart to weep.

You had rehearsed a lie as you walked up to his doorstep. You would say that your car broke down near his place and ask if you could stay over for the night. He would insist he could drive you to your place and you’d refuse, saying that it was too late and you did not wish to bother him. You’d sleep on the couch and slip away in the early hours of the morning.

Yet, it is the genuine worry etched in his eyes that dismantles the fortress you've hidden in, melts the lie in your throat, morphing it into a steel lump coiling in your throat. He looks concerned when all you’ve had directed towards you recently was anger. And you missed someone looking at you in care, not reproach.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” You admit, your voice shattered, fragments of your vocal cords scattered out in the wind like a broken mosaic, the sound of it scraping against your ears.

Blow one hurt. It felt like your body turned against you as it deprived you of oxygen. The sobs that escaped you once you perceived the light pained you, perhaps more than being confined in the darkness.

Blow two was even worse, it was your first time experiencing grief. It was too hard of a concept for your innocent heart to grasp, too complicated for you to find solace in anything as adults do.

You promised yourself that you’d reserve blow three for monumental agonies— big pains and big sorrows only. That’s how you managed to keep all your tears at bay for most of your life. Would they be worth losing your third sob for? No, you've always found the answer to be.

And in all the twisted scenarios you’ve conjured up in your mind, deaths and illnesses and the haunting tale of failure, you did not imagine that it would happen on Hwang Hyunjin’s doorstep. That you’d burst into sobs at the compassionate look in his gaze, and the sad smile he sent your way. As if he knew, as everyone did around you. That you had handed a knife to a serial killer and it was only a matter of time before he stabbed you in the heart.

Two weeks ago.

“I’m trying to understand you but you aren’t helping me,” Seungmin is frustrated as he paces relentlessly before you from left to right like a swinging pendulum. You sit on the couch, beholding only his shoes, avoiding his gaze that would reflect the truth you dare not confront.

“He’s sucking the life out of you, can’t you see that?”

You can, out of everyone that surrounds you, you can see it the most. You feel as if you are carrying a skin that isn’t your own, weighed down by a relationship that has taken everything from you. But admitting it is admitting that you were wrong, in trusting him, in loving him. You couldn’t bear it.

“We are fine!” you shout back, the defiance in your voice surprises even you. This is a familiar script with Seungmin, a recurring conversation spurred by your puffy eyes and diminishing appetite. He tells you, begs you to leave, but where could you go? How could you leave a home where you've shed all your treasured belongings at the door— your skin, your bones, your very self.

What place would welcome you now that you're stripped bare of your soul?

“When was the last time he made you smile, huh? All he does is hurt you, and you...” he chuckles incredulously, running his hand through his hair. “You are letting him.”

Deny, deny, deny.

“This isn’t true. He loves me,” the words taste foreign in your mouth like rusty metal dragging across your lips. A small voice whispers that love shouldn't feel like this, but you quiet it down.

“Are you hearing yourself? Yn, I…” he kneels before you, his hands resting comfortingly on your knees. This is Seungmin, your best friend of five years. You know he has your best interests at heart, you are even more sure of it when his voice softens, shakes slightly when he utters your name. “Yn, please. I’m trying to help you. Please.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” you push away his hands, standing up. “I don’t want your help, and I don’t need it.”

You quickly leave Seungmin’s dorm, your heart heavier than when you entered it, foolishly hoping that he'd ignore your distressed state after yet another fight with your boyfriend. But Seungmin doesn't understand, no one around you does— you’ve gambled your heart, and you cannot stop drawing the cards, even in the face of losing strikes.

❁ ❁ ❁

Hyunjin offers you a cup of tea with a gentle smile and you grab the steaming drink from his hands. The smell of chamomile wraps around your senses, and your brain fizzles out for a second before the soothing aroma. But it is a fleeting respite, the tempest of your thoughts crashes back onto you with an unsettling force, causing you to almost drop the drink as your hands shake. You place it down the table without taking a sip.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced,” you apologize, wincing at the intrusion, “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“I always sleep late. Don’t worry about it,” he smiles, but you know it isn’t a genuine grin, because his eyes betray an unsubdued concern, refusing to morph into their usual moon crescents.

You’ve always thought that Hyunjin wears his emotions openly— when he laughed, he did so loudly, his boisterous giggles traveling around Seungmin’s dorm. When he hurt himself, everyone in the vicinity would know so from his loud yelps. And when something worried him, he would bite his lip, toying with the plush flesh to ease his nerves.

As he is doing now. Looking at you.

“We broke up,” you quickly say, and your words hang over you like a gloomy cloud. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Do you want me to fight him? I’ll bring changbin too,” he suggests a serious tone underlying his playful offer, and it manages to tear a reluctant giggle out of you.

“Changbin doesn’t know me well enough to fight for me,” you counteract and he shakes his head. “He’ll fight for me, I'm his princess.”

“Are you now?” The giggle escapes your mouth less forcefully, and the smile that graces Hyunjin’s face is a genuine one.

“I am. My proposal stands,” he extends his hand and you wrap your fingers around his palm. “Thank you, I’ll keep it in mind,” you smile but he frowns, flipping your hand around in his hold.

“You are freezing,” he whispers, using his other palm to rub warmth into yours.

“It’s fine,” you lie, slipping your hand out of his grasp, not feeling deserving of his kindness.

Wordlessly, Hyunjin stands, walking into what you assume is his bedroom. You only know of his place because you dropped off Seungmin here some time ago. You are too exhausted to even drink in the interior.

“Here,” he returns, handing you a navy hoodie of his and black joggers. “This will keep you warm at night.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, hesitating for a few seconds before speaking again. “Can you please not tell Seungmin, I... I can't face him right now.”

“Of course. I’ll be awake still if you do need something.”

Hyunjin’s clothing is warm, although peeling away your own garments felt like shedding layers of your skin, as if the fabric melted into your very flesh, just like memories from the day did. You have never felt this worthless before, discarded like a forgotten leaf on the roadside, one he stepped on for his own enjoyment, leaving you crushed in his wake, unable to fly away again.

Hyunjin’s rose perfume wraps around you, and you find relief in sleeping somewhere where your, his, scent was no longer around. You foolishly hope that if you close your eyes hard enough, you’ll manage to convince yourself that you’re someone else, tonight. Someone who isn’t tethered to the heartache, someone who can slip away from the clutches of a love that hurts more than hate could ever manage to do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Heartbreak isn’t beautiful, no matter how eloquently you try to dress it in the syllables of poetry, no words can soften the burn in your lungs, the searing ache that courses through your very core, reminding you that deep within, down to the fundamentals of your being and the most basic alchemy that ties your atoms together— you are unlovable. Whether you cut your hair or allow it to grow, change your heart, or leave it as it has always been, you will remain so.

You don’t remember much of the past week, blurry fragments here and there that float in your mind like a distorted water reflection. There is little room for memories when you are busy trying to remember how to breathe— one inhale in, one exhale out. The simple concept seems harder when there are unkind hands permanently lodged into your heart, squeezing it tight.

What you do remember is telling Seungmin through text the next day, because you couldn’t bear the way his eyes would soften if you spoke to him in person. No signs of surprise cast on his figure, because he knew that it was long coming, a train with one final inevitable destination— you in shambles, him okay.

You remember Seungmin cradling you in his arms when he came to see you, and you trying desperately to keep the tears at bay— too focused on pinching your arm to let Seungmin’s warmth radiate through your being, Hyunjin lingering uncomfortably by the entrance of his living room.

You remember begging Seungmin to grab your belongings from the apartment you shared with your ex because you were unable to face him, him, and everything that your old place spelled out for you. Stand in the ruins of what you once thought would be your permanent home.

And now, you watch as Seungmin and Hyunjin bring suitcases full of your stuff into the latter’s place. And you feel like an outsider in your own body, standing at the corner of the room gazing at utter destruction, unable to stop it, unable to mend it. Seungmin quickly reassures you that you could crash in his and Minho’s place until you find a new one to live in, already taking out his laptop to search for new apartments for you.

But you did not care for it, your eyes zeroed in on the satin shirt peeking out of your suitcase. The one he bought you on your first month anniversary. Back when love felt like a gentle feather running down your spine, and not a dull knife slicing away at your skin.

“This place's expensive too,” Seungmin sighs, rubbing his temple warily. Your logical best friend could not fix your heartbreak but he took it to heart to alleviate your other troubles. You would thank him for it, later, when your tongue finds enough will to move.

“What if you move in with me?” Hyunjin suddenly says and his words filtrate through the fog in your mind easily, as if he rehearsed them enough times so they’d roll out smoothly out of his mouth. “I mean, Felix is away for the next year since he went back to Australia. And I was looking for a new roommate anyway.” He shrugs and Seungmin turns to look at you, his eyes convey the question his mouth doesn’t articulate— is it okay with you?

“I don’t…” your voice is croaked, so you clear your throat. “I don’t want you to do things out of pity.”

“I’m not. If I was, I would've told you to move in with me for free. I still need you to pay rent,” he raises his eyebrows, a playful tease and you smile in relief, nodding, “Okay, I will. thank you.”

Heartbreak is ugly and all-encompassing, weaving through the roots of your heart and infecting each organ with its insidious touch. It renders you immobile, incapable of performing the simplest tasks, burdened by a weight unseen by the world. But you try your best, your very best to contain it.

You smile at the cashier as she hands back your money only to wonder if her soft, well-manicured hands would too crush a soul without remorse. You go to all your classes without fail but your mind is elsewhere, contemplating why the sun filtering through the windows no longer warms your skin. Can nerve endings perish when subjected to too much pain? What's left of life when you can no longer feel the caress of the sun?

You watch a movie at Seungmin's dorm but your mind is elsewhere, fleeting to this morning and how you refused to stay in the shower for more than three minutes because your thoughts might become haunting ghosts tempting you to follow them. You brush your hair and spray your perfume, only because you have to, because you live with Hyunjin and you wouldn’t want your sadness to taint him too. You wonder how long you’ll have to bear it. You wonder if it’ll ever leave you or if the veins in your heart have molded themselves after the pain and they wouldn’t know how to accept happiness anymore.

You greet Hyunjin as he walks past you, shaking your head when he asks you if you want to eat dinner with him, quickly retracting back into your room. You have ten unread messages and a pile of growing laundry you need to do, but all you can muster is to gaze at the empty walls, mirroring the void within you. Your mom told you to call her again and you don’t know how you’ll speak to her without bursting into a sob, how you’ll tell her that all it took was one person to break you. Or maybe it was two people, your hands and his tearing apart your flesh and bones. Maybe that’s the worst part about it. So you don’t call her.

And you only ever emerge from your room when you need to, just like now because your water bottle is finished and you need to refill it. You go to open the kitchen door when you hear Hyunjin’s muted shatter, Felix’s distinctive deep voice coming out of the phone speaker.

“Next you add the melted butter and stir it,” Felix instructs, the sounds of pots and utensils clinking in the background. You fidget slightly, mustering the strength to paint a fake smile on your lips.

“What next?”

“Sift the dry ingredients then add them to your wet mixture,” Felix explains, met with a few seconds of silence. You can almost visualize Hyunjin's perplexed expression, blinking rapidly in confusion.

“Explain it to me like I’m five years old,” he requests, prompting a small smile to etch itself onto your face.

“How are you surviving without me?”

“I’m not please come home,” Hyunjin sounds horrified as Felix’s rich chuckles fill the air. “Why do you suddenly want to make brownies anyway?” he then asks.

You go to open the door when Hyunjin’s response catches you off guard.

“They’re for Yn.”

Hyunjin's words resonate in the air, causing a hitch in your throat and Felix’s teasing whistles simultaneously, but Hyunjin is quick to stop him. “No, no, no, it’s not like that. They’re just a bit down and I remember them loving your brownies. So…”

It takes you a fleeting moment to dig the memory out of your mind, a year ago, right before your ex came to pick you up from Seungmin’s dorm. You had a bite of Felix’s brownies, a surprised gasp escaping your lips at its delicious taste, back when food had taste and happiness came easily to you. It was an insignificant memory, you did not imagine Hyunjin, out of everyone, would remember it.

But he did, and he’s now pacing before your closed door, contemplating how he’ll convince you to finally eat something with him. He throws a thumbs-up in the air for no one but himself, inhaling deeply before knocking on your door.

“Hey,” he greets with a hopeful smile, his gaze meeting your tired form. He hesitates for a second, clearing his throat. “Brownies?” You remain unmoving and he falters, “Hm? Please?”

“Sure,” you nod and a wave of relief floods through Hyunjin as you step out of your room. His joy is short-lived when he takes the brownies out of the oven, only to find them thoroughly burnt.

His mouth hangs agape, and he walks back shamefully to the oven, lowering its door only to scream inside of it.

“This will be more therapeutic,” you say, pointing nonchalantly to the fridge and he agrees, opening its doors and yelling once again in the much larger space.

Your melodic laughter fills the kitchen, Hyunjin’s embarrassment is suddenly a forgotten memory.

“I’m craving kimbap. Should we get it instead?” you propose, a touch shyly and he quickly agrees, afraid you’d change your mind and walk back to your room where he can no longer ensure you are okay.

Hyunjin absentmindedly dances along to the music blasting through the convenience store when a girl sidles up to his side, a saccharine grin on her lips as she looks up at him, “hi,” she greets and his tentative smile mirrors hers. “Hey.”

“Are you single?” she asks, her gaze briefly fleeting to the window. “I think you are really cute.”

“I’m…” he glances at you but you're suddenly engrossed in the ingredients of the tuna kimbap you are holding, pretending not to listen. “I am but I’m not interested, thank you.”

“Oh, come on,” she places a hand on his arm and he physically recoils. “Give me your insta and we could talk.”

“No,” he repeats, grabbing her hand to remove it when a loud voice startles him. “Baby, what’s taking you so— What are you doing?” Hyunjin watches in horror as the girl’s eyes grow wide, before she scrambles to the man’s side, feigning fear.

“He kept hitting on me when I said I had a boyfriend, baby.”

“What?” both you and Hyunjin gasped in comical unison. He would find it amusing if not for the escalating anger radiating from the man, who looks like he spends all his days in the gym. Hyunjin suddenly regrets not working out with Changbin.

The man strides towards Hyunjin. “Do you want to die?”

“No? there’s a misunderstanding,” he replies, swiftly standing before you and shielding you with his arm. “Your… baby,” he wiggles his finger in front of the man's face, “she was the one hitting on me!”

The man scoffs loudly, his face growing redder from the anger seething in him. “So you hit on my girlfriend and then accuse her of cheating?” His fist rises threateningly, prompting Hyunjin to step back, accidentally bumping into your chest.

“Wait, wait, wait! Let’s go talk outside, man to man,” Hyunjin pauses, his voice taking on a taunting edge, “unless you're too scared?” he smirks as he feels you pull at his shirt, whispering an incredulous- “What are you doing?” He shakes his head, grabbing your hand and leading you outside, throwing a sly wink at the man behind you now.

“Are you seriously going to fight him?” you ask, your gaze shifting towards the deranged couple who are about to step out of the grocery store. “No, of course not. I'm a lover, not a fighter.”

“You said you'd fight my ex,” you point out and his eyes soften surprisingly.

“You are an exception.” He looks back at the man, who's now walking towards you both. “But anyways, do you know how to run?” he asks and you frown, “who doesn’t know how to—” you pause as realization dawns on you. “No," you whisper furiously.

“Yes.”

“No,” you shake your head, horrified and he nods, eyes apologetic.

“Yes.” His fingers entwine with yours, he squeezes your hand once before he takes off running.

“Hwang fucking Hyunjin!” you shout and he looks back at you, a mischievous smile on his face. “I’m sorry Yn my face is too pretty to be beaten up.”

“He’s following us!” you yell, looking back horrified as the, even angrier, man runs after you.

“Well, run faster!”

“I’m wearing fucking slippers!” you curse and he giggles, tipping his head back, the wind slamming into you both, his hand never letting go of your own.

“Oh my god why is he still running!” you groan and Hyunjin picks up speed, moving you even closer to his sprinting figure

“I know, is it ever that serious?” he yells above his shoulder and you dig your nails into his palm.

“Shut up, this wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so gorgeous.”

“So, you think I’m pretty too?” Hyunjin grins proudly and an incredulous laugh escapes your lips.

“Really? Is this what you’re getting out of this situation?”

“Silver linings, Yn, silver linings,” he shouts as you round a small alley, finally stopping to catch your breath. You both fall to the ground, heavy breaths escaping your chests.

“Holy shit, I’m not athletic at all,” he heaves, his eyes meeting yours. He expects to find anger lingering in your gaze but all he can grasp is your amused smile before you collapse into a fit of laughter, clapping loudly and clutching your stomach with your hand.

“Oh my god, I’m crying,” you laugh harder, wiping away at the tears falling from your eyes. Hyunjin’s weariness disappears in the blink of an eye— he did not realize how much he missed your smile until he glimpsed it again. And it is beautiful. Happiness looks beautiful on you.

“Idiot,” you hit his shoulder playfully, and his response is delayed for a few seconds, the warmth from your smile rendering him immobile.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, pulling you up. “Here, I’ll carry you home,” he squats slightly before you. “How impolite of me. How dare I make your majesty run.”

You shake your head, amused, before climbing atop his back, his warm palms holding your thighs securely. “Only because the slippers hurt my feet.”

You walk in silence for a while, your arms wound up around Hyunjin’s neck, the ghost of a smile still lingering on both your faces.

“They said it will snow tomorrow,” Hyunjin speaks suddenly and you stay silent for so long he starts to wonder if you even heard him.

“Mm? That’s nice,” your tone is melancholic, and he pauses at the peculiar sadness in it— as though you were trying to act nonchalant about something that has once meant the world to you.

“Don’t you like the snow?” he asks and your hold on his neck falters.

“I loved it. Loved ice skating and building snowmen.” Your voice is light and airy, like Hyunjin’s favorite mint chocolate ice cream. “But now it reminds me of bad times, bad memories.”

“I understand.”

Hyunjin knows what it feels like to relinquish parts of yourself you never wished to part from. For someone to grab your happiest places and to cast a gloomy filter atop them. Sometimes it is the loss of a season that hurts more than the departure of a person.

And Hyunjin loves winter.

He’ll do everything so that you’ll come to love it again too.

❁ ❁ ❁

Is it a nightmare if the person in it is one you once loved, looked forward to beholding with your gaze, hoping they’d never slip out of your reach? You don’t know, but you are growing tired of having the same dreams every night. Of waking up with an exhaustion that goes beyond your restless sleep but pleads from your soul to rest after almost a year of torment.

You sigh wearily, rubbing a hand through your face before walking to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. You find Hyunjin there, eating a cupcake while standing shirtless, scrolling through his phone. You blink at the sight.

“Hey,” you clear your throat and he startles, dropping the cupcake on the ground. He goes to pick it up only to bang his head on the table, a loud yelp escaping his lips. You barely contain your giggles as you walk to his side, rubbing your palm soothingly on his head. “I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you.”

“At least pretend you are sorry,” he mumbles, pointing to your amused smile and you chuckle, taking his hand and helping him to his feet.

“What are you doing up now?” he asks as he grabs some napkins to clean up the pink frosting smeared across the floor.

You hesitate for a few seconds before whispering, “Just nightmares. And you?” you quickly add, not keen on pushing the subject any further.

“I'm working on a song,” he explains, as his gaze lingers on your sunken eyes, weighed down by dark circles from too many sleepless nights.

“And the cupcake?”

“Some people need caffeine to function. I need flour.”

“I literally see you drink three americanos per day.”

“Okay well maybe I need both,” he admits sheepishly and you grin, drumming your fingers along the countertop.

“Can I sit with you while you work?” you ask quickly, before the words linger enough in your mouth that you no longer wish to spit them out.

The smile that Hyunjin sends you is kind, pushing the shadows of your nightmares just slightly out of reach.

“Of course, yeah you can. Don’t even need to ask.”

Hyunjin walks first into his bedroom, quickly slipping on a hoodie while you take in the interior. It is a quite simple room— a large bed with gray covers, and a desk filled with what you assume to be his producing equipment sits adjacent. But what catches your attention is the dried rose hung delicately on the wall, and the array of paintings surrounding it. You edge closer to it, drawn to the well-crafted paintings— a sun-drenched beach, a couple lost in an embrace so intimate their forms can no longer be separated, and an elderly pair riding a motorcycle, their love radiating vibrantly as if enclosed in eternal youth.

“You paint?” you ask, turning around to find Hyunjin watching you. He steps closer, enveloping you once more in the fragrance of his rose perfume.

“In my free time.”

“You are amazing, Hyunjin,” you compliment sincerely, your gaze fixed on that imagery of the old couple, one that most likely grew together. It tugs at your heartstrings, stirs a painful longing within you, a memory of a time when you too believed you’d find such boundless love.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, before brushing his fingertips gently against your forearm, for a fleeting second. “Are you okay?” he asks, a tenderness you’ve been aching for latched into his question. Your eyes refuse to peel away from the paintings and the love spilling from each paint brush stroke, a love that refuses to rest on your being as if you were harboring an armor that repels it.

“No,” you reply sincerely, turning to face him. “It’s really hard,” you say with a smile, hoping that the mechanical display of happiness would keep your tears at bay, tricking your brain into believing you're not as sad as you feel.

It fails to do so, and the tears well in your eyes like a gathering storm. Frustration twists your features as you shut your eyes, tilting your head upward in a desperate attempt to contain the flood. It pauses as Hyunjin cradles the back of your head, drawing you close to the warmth of his neck. His palm glides soothingly along your spine, before patting your back ever so gently.

Your back stiffens, hands curling into tight fists, breath catching in your throat. You've grown accustomed to pushing away comfort, putting up tall barriers to shield yourself. But tonight, Hyunjin seems to break through your defenses.

Tonight, you soften, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, head nestling deeper against his tender skin.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispers and another sob wracks through you, but he only holds you tighter. “It’ll get better soon.”

“I loved him,” you hiccup, your voice breaks, “a lot.”

“I know, that’s why it hurts.” His voice is gentle, and yet his hold on you feels secure as if you could stumble and fall, and he would be there to catch you

“I want it to stop hurting.”

“It will, with time.”

Your next words are tinged with a childlike vulnerability, reminiscent of blow one, then two. But you do not care for it, in that instant, you crave the reassurance, you need someone to plant a seed of hope in your soul because your hands are too frail to dig for it.

“Do you promise me?”

His response doesn’t come hastily, carelessly thrown into the air like idle chatters. He takes his time, considering it with the gravity of an oath.

“I promise you.” He finally says, each syllable infused with sincerity. A brief pause hangs in the air before he adds. “And if it doesn’t then you can hit me.”

“On your pretty face?” you ask, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“On my pretty face,” he confirms with a chuckle.

“What an honor,” you roll your eyes playfully as you lean back and he grins, tenderly wiping away your tears with the back of his fingers.

“I can't believe it took three minutes for you to cry in my room. This isn’t good for my reputation.”

“Good thing this will never leave this bedroom, right?” you point a finger at him threateningly, and he pretends to zip his lips, tossing away the imaginary key. “You got it.”

“So what are you working on?” you ask as you settle on the edge of his bed, knees drawn up to your chest.

“It’s a pretty sad song, wanna hear?” he offers, sitting across from you on his chair.

“Yeah, I'd love to,” you smile, and Hyunjin deftly adjusts a few buttons, before his melancholic whistles weave through the air, coupled with the somber melody of a piano. Your breath catches in your throat, the music reaching into the very depths of your soul. It's as if the notes are calling out for a loved one, for a time that has long passed, for a past that will never come back no matter how much we long for it.

The instrumental continues, each piano note and each violin string echo like a bittersweet lament, springing tears to your eyes. But the melody remains beautiful, akin to the beauty always found in the sadness— in the tears that cascade down your cheeks like glistening crystals, in the tremble of your hands akin to branches swaying in the wind, in the rise and fall of your chest with each breath, mirroring the ebb and flow of the waves.

Hyunjin watches you intently as the music envelops you both, his gaze softening with each passing moment. You bring a hand to your chest, almost unconsciously, too engrossed in the melody to even blink. He feels a blush sprout on his cheeks as your teary eyes hold his with the last fading guitar strings.

“You keep on making me cry,” you whisper, your voice choked with emotion, and he grins, tilting his head shyly against his shoulder.

“You like it?” he asks, a tad eager and you nod, not bothering to wipe the lone tears that are falling down your cheeks.

“I think this is what my loneliness sounds like,” you confess softly.

“As do mine.”

A silent beat runs between you both, it isn’t uncomfortable, but safe. Because you understand him, just as he understands you.

“Sometimes I long for things that have passed," he admits, “although I know I can't get them anymore.”

“The most terrible thing you can long for is yourself.”

“Because no one’s to blame for that loss but you?” he muses and you nod, a sad smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, exactly.”

You bite your lip, casting a glance back at the paintings adorning the wall. “I don't love him anymore,” you begin quietly. “I stopped a long time ago because there was no room for love anymore to grow amid weeds and thorns.”

He remains silent, sensing that this is a weight you need to unburden yourself from.

“But in the midst of it I think I stopped loving myself too,” you whisper, a confession too terrible to be uttered out loud. “That's what I long for. The things I used to love that I'm indifferent to now.”

“Like you’re a stranger before everything once familiar to you.”

“Yeah, you express it prettily,” you remark with a small smile.

“It's my job,” he grins lightly.

“I think when your heart is pure,” he begins after a while, pausing to carefully choose the words that will soothe your burn, help sleep come more easily to you. “You give love to others more readily than you do to yourself. And it takes time, patience, to redirect that love back to your own heart once again. But it's not a mistake to love, you shouldn’t hate yourself for it. Nor should you blame your past self for loving the wrong person because they did not know what you now do.”

“Think of it as a caterpillar in their cocoon,” he continues gently, “when they finally emerge from their chrysalis, they might long for who they were, where they once were because it is the only place they've ever known. But they do not realize that they've transformed into a beautiful butterfly, that they can now fly, and witness much more than their chrysalis. So maybe, your new self will love the same things as before, or maybe you’ll find new, better things to love that you would have not known before. But in either way, your heart is beautiful. That is what matters, no?”

A small pout draws on your lips, your eyebrows scrunched as you gaze at him.

“You have a very tender soul, Hyunjin.”

Your words linger in Hyunjin's mind long after the sunrise, as you lay peacefully asleep on his bed. The melody of the instrumental he produced continues to play faintly in the background, serving as a gentle lullaby that eases you into slumber, entwined in his sheets, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself, one hand cradling your shoulders and the other resting gently on your stomach. The image sears into his eyes as he sketches the outlines of a figure holding itself absentmindedly, long into the night.

Hyunjin has had his fair share of compliments, mostly pertaining to his face, and others to his craft. but it is you who seems to have sensed that a part of his soul resided in his art, that he left pieces of his heart hidden in the notes he composes and the lyrics he writes, hoping they’ll find soft hands that will take care of them, just like your own.

Five days later.

hyunjin [11:34 p.m.]: are you home?

yn [11:34 p.m.]: yeahh, do you need anything?

hyunjin [11:35 p.m.]: come downstairs, im waiting for youu

if you say no i’ll freeze to death..

hurry i can’t feel my fingers anymore (please please) ㅠㅠㅠ

“This better be a life and death situation Hwang Hyunjin,” you say threateningly as soon as you appear before Hyunjin, causing him to straighten up from the wall he was leaning against.

“It is a very dangerous life-altering situation that requires your immediate assistance, indeed,” he responds solemnly, ushering you gently to his car and opening the door for you.

“Which is?” you ask as soon as he settles inside the car and he simply grins at you, his left dimple coming forth like the very sun on a gloomy day.

“You’ll see.”

Hyunjin’s eyes fleet to your figure every now and then, but you do not seem to notice, your gaze lost into the blurring lights ahead. He can tell you're still not entirely yourself, so he was prepared to forcibly drag you along with him. He’s almost surprised you accepted to come down so easily.

“Is that… Seungmin?” you speak suddenly, pointing to a man waving in the distance, as Hyunjin parks his car near an empty field.

“And Changbin? And Minho?” you continue, squinting your eyes, “and a bonfire?” you giggle with a hint of excitement.

“You love s’mores during the winter, right?”

Hyunjin smiles, your soul softens.

“I do,” you say quietly, “I really do.”

You quickly exit the car, running into Seungmin's arms with a grin of disbelief plastered on your face. “This is insane,” you almost shout, squeezing him tight in a hug.

“It was so hard to find the perfect middle of nowhere for this,” Minho grumbles as you move to greet him, but the warmth of his embrace assures you he's only teasing.

“Thank you,” you say with a smile as you hug Changbin, who affectionately ruffles your hair. “It was Hyunjin’s idea,” he reveals, and you glance back at Hyunjin, who stands with his hands buried deep within his sweatpants behind you. You mouth a silent “thank you” to him, but he shakes his head modestly as if it is nothing to bring happiness to a bruised heart.

The night unfolds in endless laughter, with Minho and Hyunjin taking turns roasting marshmallows over the crackling bonfire, and Seungmin serving you hot coffee to keep your hands warm. Your stomach aches from the uncontrollable fits of giggles that overtook your being as Minho recounts the time he danced so vigorously on stage for his dance club that he ripped his pants, feeling a breeze where there shouldn't be one; and Changbin tells you the story of the time his voice cracked in the middle of a rap battle, and how none of the boys stopped teasing him about it for months to come.

And as the four of them take turns making you laugh, a quiet, tender realization dawns on you—you are loved. It is something he tried to convince you was impossible, that no one around truly cared for you but him. And even then, you weren’t deserving of his love whole, only scrapes of it, as if you were a beggar tugging at the outskirts of his heart.

But Hyunjin reminded you otherwise. And if your friends found something worthy of love within you then perhaps so will you again, one day.

“Did you have fun?” Hyunjin asks as he opens the door to his, your, apartment hours later. What he doesn't expect is for you to respond by wrapping your arms around his slender torso, squeezing tight in gratitude.

“Thank you,” you whisper and he nods, though you cannot see him, returning the embrace by wrapping his arms around your shoulder blades.

Hyunjin doesn't let go first, sensing that perhaps you need this hug more than he does. He smiles as your eyes meet his again, but his grin falters when he notices your gaze flickering towards your bedroom, a hint of unease clouding your expression. It's as if behind that door lie monsters only you can grasp, wearing the faces of people you once knew, once loved.

“Wanna stay with me while I work on the song?”

“Last time I ended up sleeping on your bed,” you say a bit shamefully, recalling the morning you woke up to find yourself covered with a thick blanket that wasn’t there before, alone in Hyunjin's room.

“It's okay,” he shrugs, “I missed sleeping on the couch.”

You stare pointedly at him and he chuckles, “Fine, I did not miss it. But you needed the sleep, so it’s okay with me.”

“Fine,” you concede, though you did not need much convincing for it. “But only if you promise you’ll wake me up if I end up falling asleep again.”

Hyunjin tilts his head, thinking to himself for a few seconds before shaking his head stubbornly, a small pout drawn on his face, his eyes semi-closed. “No.”

“Hyunjin!”

“Nu-uh,” he insists, shaking his head once more as he walks back towards his room. “I'm waiting for you!”

“I'm not coming!”

But you do eventually join him, after changing your clothes and washing your face. You find Hyunjin clad in beige and white checkered pajamas, his glasses pushing back his silky hair as he hunches over his journal, scribbling away before erasing what he wrote.

“Struggling with lyrics?” you ask, leaning against the wall and he startles. “Do you float on the ground? Why can I never hear you come in?”

“Or maybe you just love being dramatic,” you sing-song, laying atop his bed, much more at ease than the previous night.

Hyunjin sticks his tongue out childishly in response, and you playfully mimic the gesture before both of you dissolve into happy giggles.

“Kind of,” he explains once you both settle down, “I have this specific feeling in mind that I need to convey.”

“You'll do well,” you reassure softly, “your lyrics are always so beautiful. Remember Cover me?” you smile and he scratches the back of his ear, a shy grin spreading across his face.

“You still listen to it?” he asks and you nod eagerly, attempting to belt into Seungmin’s ending high note. You fail horribly and Hyunjin throws a crumpled piece of paper on your face to get you to stop singing.

“My poor ears,” he laughs loudly, and you retaliate by throwing back a pillow on his head.

“You just don’t get my artistic abilities.”

“I’d get them more if you stayed silent.”

You gasp, faking offense as you stand up to tickle Hyunjin on his chair, he starts squirming immediately, his loud giggles spilling all over the room, coating it in vibrant hues of happiness, and you’re suddenly captivated by the sight of him— his head thrown back, a golden lock framing his laughter-filled eyes, his top lowering slightly to reveal glimpses of his collarbones and the delicate veins that trace enticing paths on his neck.

You pause, your hand hovering over the side of his stomach, as a long-forgotten warmth spreads through your heart, like the first rays of dawn greeting the earth after a long winter night. It doesn’t diffuse quickly through your being, but rather drapes like sticky honey on your veins, making you well aware of your growing blush, of how beautiful Hyunjin is in his joy.

“Never singing to you again,” you clear your throat, laying atop his bed once again, and quickly reaching for your phone, anything to avoid his eyes which rival the crescent moon outside his window.

Hours pass before a warm hand gently settles on your shoulder, rousing you from your slumber. Blinking away the fog of sleep, you find Hyunjin leaning over you, his grin wide and infectious. “Wake up,” he whispers, but you only groan, burying your face deeper into his pillow.

He doesn’t yield, taking hold of your wrist and guiding your drowsy figure upright, before wrapping the blanket snugly around your shoulders. Without a word, he leads you out onto his balcony, carefully putting his neon green beanie on your head to shield you from the cold.

“It’s snowing!” he smiles, and his excited tone manages to dissipate the fog in your mind. You blink repeatedly and soon enough, you too behold the fallen snowflakes, each one resembling a tiny speck of light bidding farewell to the sky to greet the earth.

“You missed the first snow so I didn’t want you to miss this one too,” he explains, and his thoughtfulness blankets you with a warmth that seeps into every crevice in your body, drips down your fingertips and makes the cold of 4 a.m. seem less harsh, less biting to the touch.

You don’t know how to say thank you, because those two words don’t encapsulate the depths of gratitude that you feel for Hyunjin. Because he is speaking to the person within you who still loves snow, the part buried underneath layers of dust from a ground heartbreak. But you still manage to hear him, and you squeeze his hand tightly, and he doesn’t let go until you finally do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Remembering has become easier for you these past two months— both the good and the bad. And each day, the scale tips towards one side or the other. Sometimes you recall the suffocation you felt with him, the feeling that no matter what you did you could never please him, that your hands were crafted to break rather than mend. And on those days your wound grows, it throbs and bleeds different emotions.

Sometimes it's anger— at him for treating your heart so carelessly as if you were a being devoid of feeling. And then at you— for staying, for giving him excuses and desperately searching for goodness within him, for the one redeeming quality that would convince you he was worth the pain.

And other days bring an excruciating sadness along, a weight that presses down upon you until you're paralyzed. Because you feel bad for yourself and for everything you went through. Because you’re unsure how to rise when unseen hands push you deeper into the abyss.

And on these days, Seungmin becomes your anchor. He buys your favorite food, skips classes with you, and takes you to your favorite gardens. He talks and he talks and you try your best to laugh because you do not wish to worry him more. It is enough to be your own burden, you do not wish to burden him too.

But when he drops you home, your facade slips away, the smile fading from your face as if it were never truly yours to wear. You are too tired to pretend so you don’t, and Hyunjin doesn’t let you, either. He brews you tea and orders takeout because he knows you lack the energy for cooking. He goes with you on walks and drapes you in pieces of his clothing— scarves and beanies and gloves because he knows you couldn’t care less about a cold when there is a frost coating your bones. He lets you sit in his room while he works on his songs, and while he paints. Sometimes you talk and often you don't need to. But he’s there. He's there with you.

But you also remember the good. You remember your movie night with the boys, Hyunjin building an entire fort for you, adorned with twinkling lights and the softest blankets. How you watched movies until 5 a.m. your bodies so closely huddled together that there was no room left for sadness.

You recall Hyunjin begging you to build a snowman with him at the crack of dawn, the two of you collapsing in fits of laughter as you threw snowballs at one another, your footsteps marking the fresh fallen snow.

You remember being so exhausted after one of your showers that you simply laid atop the couch, gaze fixed on the void, too drained to even untangle the knots in your hair. Yet, it is not the tiredness that you exactly recall, nor the salty tears you shed underneath the scorching water jet. But it is Hyunjin's tender hands as he brushed through your hair, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck, his knuckles ghosting over the slate of your shoulder. You remember whispering that it was a particularly hard day and Hyunjin understanding. You remember him watching many YouTube tutorials to prepare your favorite seaweed soup, only for it to end up being too salty. But you still ate it all, because he made it for you, to lift your wounded spirits. And that alone was enough for it to taste good.

You remember your heart hardening then softening again, breaking then stitching itself back together, closing off then blooming like flowers on the first day of spring. You remember smiling only to cry then smile again. And you remember liking snow, a bit more than you thought you would. Because Hyunjin was there, holding your trembling hand, steadying it enough for you to rewrite your memories with winter.

So, you want to say thank you.

You do not wish to spell it out, because there are too many things to thank Hyunjin for and too few words to do so. Instead, you drag him to the farmer’s market near your home, and you tell him to help you pick flowers.

“I could be in bed watching my favorite show and yet here I am bestowing you with my enchanting presence,” he sighs, not too modestly, as you both eye the array of colorful blooms.

“Okay, Shakespeare, are you done?” you roll your eyes, attempting your best to hide your grin.

“Done annoying you? Never. These are very pretty,” he adds, pointing to the white roses in full bloom, their delicate petals emitting a sweet fragrance into the air.

“I agree, what else should we add?” you ponder, picking out four roses.

“Mm, Hibiscus? The red in the center is so vibrant,” he suggests, taking out his phone to capture the flower.

“Cute. Baby breath’s would look good too,” you say as you gather the flowers, heading to the cashier with Hyunjin trailing behind, still admiring the delicate blooms.

“Can I write a note?” you ask the middle-aged man as he wraps the bouquet in a powder blue paper.

“Sure,” he replies with a smile, and you return the gesture, quickly jotting down your words.

“Are you done?” Hyunjin grins when you return to his side and you nod, exiting the flower shop.

“What do you think?” you ask, angling the bouquet towards him.

“It's beautiful.”

“It’s yours,” you smile, growing shier at the intensity of his gaze as it lands on you, then the flowers, then on you again. “Take it,” you hand it to him, your cheeks flushing like the hibiscus’s crimson core.

“Actually?” he says softly, his fingers trembling slightly as he accepts the flowers and you nod in response. You bite your lip as you watch him take out the note, his eyes softening once he reads the words inscribed in it— thank you for making my winter less cold.

“Should we go?” you say a tad too cheerfully, turning away, but Hyunjin grabs your wrist, spinning you around once more. His fingers trail up your arm, coming to rest gently on your cheek as he leans down to plant a tender kiss there.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer than necessary. You think that if his soft lips grace your skin a few times more, your nerve endings might forget the harshness they were subjected to. If his gentle hands remain on your cheeks, then maybe, your heart would heal quicker, better. Maybe your past self that you long for would emerge again, maybe Hyunjin would be able to unearth it.

Your hopeful thoughts disappear as quickly as they arrive, overshadowed by a sense of helplessness that crashes over you, all of the sudden. You sense him before you hear him, the familiar anxiety that is only synonymous with your ex’s presence.

“Yn?” the sound of your name feels harsher in his mouth, the syllables spat out rather than spoken tenderly, as they are when Hyunjin pronounces it. Your veins run cold as his voice pierces the air, your heart skipping three beats at once before plummeting to your knees. You wrap your hand around Hyunjin’s forearm instinctively, and he looks down at you, his expression morphing into one of concern.

You’re unsure of what he sees in you— whether it is your pale face, the quiver of your lower lip, or the fear that has coated all your features— but his eyes harden, his brows furrowing as he gazes at the man behind you.

You refuse to turn around, bracing yourself for his next words. “Yn,” he repeats his tone laced with anger, his fingertips grazing your arm as if intending to force you to face him. But before he can touch you, Hyunjin intervenes, swiftly stepping in between you and your ex, shielding you with his own body protectively.

“Leave,” Hyunjin's voice is cold, dripping with a venomous edge you've never heard from him before, his jaw clenching with barely contained fury.

“Is this your new shiny toy, Yn?” your ex taunts and his voice cuts through your being against your will, triggering a flood of memories you've tried so desperately to suppress. Memories of his cruelty, his manipulation, and the pain he inflicted upon you—using your love as a weapon to bolster his own ego.

“What's in it for you?” you find your voice again, though it trembles when you speak. He is the very embodiment of your pain and everything you loathe about yourself. You wish for the ground to swallow you whole, for a bolt of lightning to strike the earth, anything to spare you from facing him.

“It's only been three months, I didn't know you were a whore.”

Hyunjin's fist connects with his cheek before you can register his words. It all unfolds so rapidly that you barely have time to comprehend it. Your ex staggers back, blood trickling from the cut on his lip, while Hyunjin stands before you, his chest heaving with restrained anger, his right hand clenched into a fist, the bouquet still held tightly in the other.

“Fine, I deserved it,” your ex chuckles, his voice laced with mockery as he wipes the blood from his lip. His gaze meets yours briefly behind Hyunjin's back.

“You might not be a whore but you are unlovable, keep that in mind.” He spits out before walking away, crude words that tear at every scab covering your wounds, reopening them with a brutal force. Hyunjin moves to follow him, but you grab his shirt, pulling him back.

“He’s not worth it,” you murmur.

Your words seem to snap Hyunjin out of his haze as he turns to look at you, worry cast across his figure. He moves to cradle your cheeks but you step back, refusing to meet his eyes. He swallows thickly, clutching the bouquet in his hands. “Are you okay?”

You let out a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping as you shake your head slightly. “Let's just go home,” you whisper, eyes fleeting to his for a split second. All the lights in your gaze are muted.

You���re crumbling before him once again and he cannot stop it, no matter how much he yearns to.

It's long past midnight when you find yourself seated on the floor of your living room, a bottle of red wine placed between you and Hyunjin. You exchange it wordlessly, taking turns sipping from it, the alcohol warming your insides but doing little to ease the ache in your heart. You don’t exactly recall when Hyunjin sat next to you, but you don’t mind. You were too lost in your own thoughts to even register his presence.

“Yn,” he calls out softly and you hum absentmindedly, memories of when your ex spoke your name haunting you, each time he yelled your name, uttered it in disdain as if it was the starting point of everything wrong with you.

“Talk to me, please?” he pleads, angling his body towards your own. But you refuse to meet his eyes and Hyunjin’s heart twists in his chest. He is afraid of all the ugly thoughts that must roam your mind. He wishes he could enter it, open the windows wide, and usher the light in.

“I'm sorry you were dragged into this,” you say, your gaze fixated on the bouquet placed atop the table. The crimson painted on the hibiscus’ petals reminds you of the blood that spilled from your ex’s mouth, and your gaze fleets to Hyunjin's hand, slightly bruised from the punch.

“Don’t apologize,” he whispers, “there is nothing to be sorry for.”

It’s as though you don’t hear him, your fingers trailing gently across his scraped knuckles, tears pooling in your eyes the more you stare at his hand.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, voice thick with emotion, and Hyunjin’s quick to shake his head. “No, don’t worry about it. He deserved it.”

“You didn’t deserve to be hurt.”

“Neither did you.”

Your disbelieving scoff that follows scares him. What if you’re slipping away into a dark place yet again, one void and barricaded, in which the only sound that echoes is your ex’s hurtful words? What if he can’t reach you again?

“If the only person I’ve ever loved says I’m unlovable then maybe I am.”

You’re drunk, you wouldn’t have said such an ugly thing otherwise, wouldn’t have allowed this sentiment to materialize into the air, to take a tangible form apart from your abstract thoughts.

“No,” Hyunjin says in a panic as though he’s trying to quickly pull the brakes on your free-railing thoughts. He cups your face between his palms, your tears falling freely atop his hands but he does not move away.

“No,” he repeats, more calmly this time. “How he treated you is a reflection of who he is. And how you see him is a reflection of who you are. And you wanted him to be loving because you’re full of love. You wanted him to be good because you are a good person. And he can’t stomach that, can’t stomach that you are happy without him so he’s trying to ruin you again.”

“Hyunjin…” you shake your head but he only inches closer to you, his thumbs gently caressing your cheekbones. “No, listen to me. Seungmin loves you so much he couldn’t eat properly for the first few days you stayed here, texted me all the time asking me how you were and if you were feeling better. He isn't good with words so instead he tries to make you laugh. He wishes he could give up parts of his happiness for you.”

A sob swells within you but Hyunjin presses on. “And Minho, he tried to memorize all your favorite recipes so he could cook them for you. It isn’t a coincidence that every time we go over to their dorm it is your favorite food that we eat. He takes more pictures of his cats these days so he could send them to you because he knows it cheers you up.”

“You told me Changbin doesn’t know you well enough to fight for you but when we saw your ex across the campus one day he wanted to get up and beat him. He always asks me if you are well and if there is something he can do for you, anything.”

He inhales deeply, tears welling up in his eyes as well. “And me…” a tender smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, “you make this house a home. I feel like my true self when you are around and loneliness doesn’t come to me as often as it did. Because you are here. You are like a beam of sunlight that lightens up every life you touch, mine first,” he’s baring his soul to you, vulnerable yet resolute. “So tell me, Yn, what’s not to love in you when you yourself are so full of love?”

“Hyune,” you speak the nickname for the first time, and Hyunjin’s heart thrashes achingly around his ribcage. “If you keep talking like this I might end up loving you,” you smile sadly at him as if it is a terrible thing to be loved by you.

“But I don’t want to love you, because I won’t know how to, not anymore. So I'll end up leaving. And I'll long for you, and I don't think I can stomach longing for you from afar.”

“So please,” you place one hand atop his own, wipe away the lone tear rolling down his cheek. “Don’t make me love you, hm? You deserve more than to be loved by someone like me.”

You leave Hyunjin in the living room, alone before the white flowers you gifted him. He doesn’t want to put them away in a vase, for as soon as he grabbed them from your hold, everything around you both crumbled. So he leaves them there for the night, the creamy white petals aglow underneath the moonlight. He spends the night painting the bouquet from memory, but the petals end up too tinged with red, perhaps mirroring the blood his heart refuses to stop spilling still.

He did not realize it before, maybe he blinded himself so he wouldn’t see what was before him all along. But it is all the clearer to him now— that in his attempts to make you love winter again, Hyunjin only ended up loving you.

A week later.

hyune [1:25 a.m.]: i miss you

You and Hyunjin spent the last seven days avoiding one another, well you more than him. He just understood your silent plea when you took a step back the one time he tried to talk to you in the kitchen, swallowing thickly before inching away, allowing you to move past him.

You did not know how to face him after what he said, partly because you were embarrassed by your own response, mostly because even in your drunken daze, his words etched themselves permanently into your memory.

It is his reassuring words that echoed in your brain for the past week, not those of your ex.

hyune [1: 26 a.m.]: and i miss sleeping on the couch

You giggle, shaking your head before replying.

yn [1:26 a.m.]: no you don’t

hyune [1:26 a.m.]: no i don’t ㅠㅠ

but i finished the song

wanna hear?

Walking to Hyunjin’s room feels as familiar as going into your own. And when your gaze finally meets his you can’t help but break into a relieved smile. It was foolish of you to punish yourself, enough people have done that for you already.

“Hey,” he greets tentatively, and you respond with an awkward wave, a moment pregnant with anticipation passes before both of you dissolve into laughter.

“What is this? Are we in middle school,” he teases and you giggle, settling comfortably on his bed once more.

“I know. We are so lame.”

“You are,” he corrects with a grin and you gasp, pretending to leave but he quickly catches your hand, stopping you. “No, please stay. I meant it when I said that I missed you,” he repeats quietly, as if afraid that his confession would make you run away once again.

Your heart aches, the knots in your stomach tightening and unraveling all at once. “I missed you too,” you admit softly, and he smiles, his thumb tracing a gentle path above your pulse before releasing your hand.

“So it's done then?” you ask and he nods, running a hand through his hair with a hint of anxiety. “How do you feel about it?”

“Good. I hope you’ll like it, mostly.”

“I'm sure I will,” you reassure him with a soft smile, and he nods once more, pressing a few buttons before his melodious whistles fill the air once again.

Nothing could have braced you for the sound of Hyunjin's voice that followed, its timbre soft as silk yet imbued with profound sorrow. It's as though he recorded the song on one of his loneliest nights, his honeyed vocals dipped in an excruciating nostalgia that seeps into every corner of the room, every corner of your heart.

In the faded photo, I come across a smile spread across a youthful face, overlapped with the seasons.

Your gaze flickers to Hyunjin as a shadow of recollection dawns on you. You remember telling him that you couldn’t stomach looking at pics of your past, ones in which you smiled so freely because you were blissfully unaware of what was to come.

The night’s so cold that it’s almost unreal.

Because you weren’t aware of the winter that will follow and the biting cold that it would bear, for everything that will go astray in your relationship, for your ex's facade to crack like a glacier succumbing to the pressure of lies and pretense.

I wake up in another silence, and I close my eyes.

You remember Hyunjin confessing that silence haunted him more than words ever could, and you had agreed, sharing how sometimes you shut your eyes, pretending that the reality you woke up to wasn't the one you were living.

The white flower we planted together has bloomed. I do not dare pick it. Now it withers away.

You gaze at the white flowers you brought him, now wilted in the vase placed on his desk, yet Hyunjin refuses to throw them still. You see the card you wrote for him hung on the wall, right next to the dried red rose. He kept it. Though it withered, he kept it all.

So I long for you. And I long for you. And I'll long for you.

You remember the longing you both spoke of, how he understood a feeling you felt so incredibly alone in. How he tried to reassure you when he too was caught in the webs of the past. How you longed for him in the past week. How you wished he longed for you just the same.

So I can keep loving you. So I could be loving you. And morе.

The violin swells and so does the emotion in your chest. You remember him asking you ‘What’s not to love in you’ and how you've spun those words in your thoughts ever since. You remember thinking that if he gave you a few more weeks, just a bit more time, you might have found it in you to believe them.

You see Hyunjin’s glimmering eyes holding yours, you see his heart atop a platter handed to you, and you see the resignation in his being. Don’t make me love you, you told him. You didn’t dare to tell him not to love you in return, deemed it too foolish of thought to entertain.

For he was Hwang Hyunjin, the quiet producer who paints in his free time and who wears his heart on his sleeve. Who remains hopeful, loving, and tender, despite the thorns pricking at his side. Who is beautiful, so much so that he allowed you to see beauty in the universe once again, through his eyes.

How could he love you?

How could you not love him?

“The song,” you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips as you stand, trembling, on your feet. Hyunjin rises too, meeting you in the center of his room.

“It is about you. For you,” he says simply as if his words don’t cause your world to burst at the seams only to mend itself once again, too eager to fix itself and exist in the same timeline as Hyunjin.

“I don't… I don’t know what to say,” you say earnestly, feeling your heart pound in your chest, its beats resounding loudly in your ears.

It is wrong of you to assume he wishes you to say something. He is Hyunjin, the one who finds words in your silences too, after all.

“I don’t need you to say anything,” he shakes his head, taking another step closer to you. “I don't want an answer, I don't wish to pressure you. I just wanted to tell you that my love is here, it is yours to take or to leave, to cherish or to discard. But it is yours, because this is who I am. I am someone who loves you.”

“So do not tell me to forget you because I don't know how to. And don’t tell me that you’ll leave because I will love you still, because you’d still be you, near or far, you are you. And you are someone I long for.” He pauses, his voice softening. “And I long for you, Yn, more than anything I've ever longed for. And I've spent all my life longing.”

His lips meet your forehead tenderly, and you feel your entire being grow limp at the chaste kiss, as if your limbs wish to liquefy and form a puddle on the floor. His touch is soft, and you miss it the moment he parts from you.

“There must be something in this room that keeps on making you cry,” he smiles and you bring your hands to your damp cheeks, surprised to find there tears you didn’t realize had fallen.

“It’s you,” you pinch his arm playfully and he squirms away from your hold, stabbing his toe on the desk in the process. A loud fuck echoes around the room, and your laughter dissipates the tension clinging into the air.

“Can you play it again?” you request softly and Hyunjin’s theatrics fade as a shy smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Is it good?”

“It's everything to me.”

“It's called ‘long for you’, by the way.”

“Long for you,” you repeat quietly. There has never been a prettier combination of words.

The title all but makes sense as you lay on the bed, your gaze fixed on the paintings hung on the wall, Hyunjin sketching quietly on his desk, the song resonating softly in the background. You've longed for many things in your life—the person you once were and the tender love you once craved—but amidst it all, nothing has weighed heavier on your heart than the longing for the man sitting just two meters away, almost in your loving grasp. Almost.

❁ ❁ ❁

It is an excruciating five days that Hyunjin spends apart from you, the both of you too caught up in your assignments to find a moment to properly speak. But you do not shy away from him when he greets you, and your grin is kind as it drapes across his being, and Hyunjin swears he has never seen a prettier sight than you smiling.

On the sixth night, Hyunjin completes the cover for the song— a figure wrapped around itself protectively, mirroring the way you hug yourself in your sleep. He hangs it on the wall, right next to your thank you card and the white bouquet he drew once again, wishing to properly immortalize its beautiful flowers, to purify that memory from the tumult that followed it.

On the sixth night, the house is quiet, the full moon high up in the sky, snowflakes falling softly to the ground. Hyunjin wonders if you too mimicked the snow’s descent— both of you falling apart with it.

But then, there’s a knock on his door.

His heart catches in his throat, his body freezing as if it forgot how to move. You are here.

“Come in,” he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. You push the door open, and Hyunjin's words wilt on his tongue as he sees what you're carrying—another bouquet, filled with white flowers, yet again.

“Hey,” you smile, standing by the door.

He remains silent, unsure of what to say, or how to speak. He longs for you when you are away, even more so when you’re before him.

“We shouldn't let these white flowers wither away too, right?” you smile slightly, placing the bouquet on the desk before walking to Hyunjin’s bedside. His voice falters, vocal cords refusing to move and overshadow your voice.

You sit beside him, gently pulling his hand so that you’d both lie on the pillows. Your hand doesn’t leave his own, instead, it moves to rest on his cheek, reminiscent of the many times he had cradled your face before. Inch by inch, you close the gap between you, nuzzle the tip of your nose against his own. “Hi, Hyune”, you say softly, and he swallows thickly, his voice coming out just as quietly.

“Hi, my Yn.”

“If we take care of the white flowers together do you think they’ll survive a bit longer?” you ask, your gaze never wavering from his, countless stars twinkling in the depths of your irises.

“I believe so,” he says tentatively, too aware of the warmth of your palm against his skin, of the sweet ache unfurling within his being.

“Mm, and even if they wilt we can always buy new ones. We can learn how to care for them better, with time,” you say, and he nods in agreement, laying his hand atop your own, tilting his head to bestow a chaste kiss on your palm.

“With time,” he echoes softly and you smile, vulnerable yet secure in his gray sheets, in his hold.

“Will you give me time too?” you ask, and Hyunjin reads in your eyes what you mean, understands in the shake of your voice the question you are too afraid to voice. Will he give you time to heal in order to love?

“As long as you need. I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures, pressing his forehead gently atop yours, and you both close your eyes, as a running warmth encloses you both, blooms a blush on both your cheeks.

His arms wrap around your back, drawing you close until your chests are pressed together, your head resting naturally in the curve of his neck. And it is long forgotten in your mind, all the nights you slept in this very bed alone. You feel safe, safe enough to long for love knowing that it patiently awaits you behind the door, once you find enough courage to turn the doorknob. You feel serene, as Hyunjin’s warm palms glide soothingly up and down your spine, as every muscle, every nerve, every atom in your being relaxes in his hold.

You are healing, slowly, with each fleeting second that passes in which Hyunjin’s heartbeat resounds within your chest, as its melody runs through your veins, melds with your own as if it was destined to be there all along. As you rest in Hyunjin, as you find a safe home within his soul to discard your worries at the doorstep and breathe.

“It did get better,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade. “Hm?” He leans back to look at you, and he’s so beautiful, so tender as he gazes at you, you can’t help but trace the contours of his face with your fingers, hoping to commemorate him with your eyes, with your touch.

“You promised me it’ll get better, and it did,” you smile, as your legs further intertwine with his, and his rose perfume becomes an indelible mark on your skin. “Too bad I can't hit your pretty face now,” you joke and he giggles, tipping his head back.

He's so beautiful, body and soul, and he longs for you, you alone.

“But I can still do this,” you murmur before finally pressing your lips against his like a boat finally reaching the shore after months of sailing. You both exhale, in yearning, in relief, as your mouths move together in a slow, languid dance, his hand finding the pulse on your neck, yours settling atop his jaw.

He would kiss you again, this intimately, in the coming months, when your heart expands enough to contain the love Hyunjin deserves. He would kiss you again, when your past comes to haunt you, and healing sounds like an elusive myth you’d never encounter in your life.

And he would kiss you again, over the kitchen table and under the fridge’s light, in between paintings and in supermarket aisles, while picking flowers and watching the first snow.

He would kiss you, this tenderly, in the next winter, and the ones after it, as if his longing for you never wanes. Till blow three disappears from your memory, till all you remember is the love, the true one, the kind one, the soft one Hyunjin alone could have brought you.

[hannieehaee]

How about Joshua with a s/o who always wears baggy clothes and doesnt feel attractive because she doesnt wear revealing ones ?

If u want to write it pls do it only if u are ok with it and feel inspired ♡♡

content: bf!joshua, established relationship, some talk about insecurities, fluff, etc.

wc: 605

a/n: so sorry i took so long to write this!!

masterlist

"hey, babe, have you seen my shirt? you know, the grey one with the loose neck? i thought i- oh."

"huh? what was that?", you asked as you took out an earbud, turning to look at the boy who'd been trying to call your attention.

chuckling, he rounded the kitchen island to reach your side, hands practically attaching to your waist like magnets as he aided you in removing the other earbud, placing both on the counter next to you.

"i was just wondering where my band tee went, but i think i have my answer," he chuckled, pressing a sweet peck to your temple.

"oh, fuck. sorry, josh. do you want it? i can go change," you went to disconnect from him, but he wasnt having it, instead nuzzling his head on your shoulder.

"hm. it smells of my cologne still," he said almost to himself, "you don't have to take it off. i like you in my clothes," he reassured.

you could only scoff.

"your clothes are baggy on me. just like all my other clothes. what difference does it really make?"

joshua shrugged, "just like knowing you're wearing something of mine. you're style's cute. you're cute."

"flattery will get you everywhere, hong," you laughed.

it was one of those nice, domestic moments that occurred every so often. you basked in it, enjoying it before the two of you went back to your regular days.

it wasn't until later that you started to think about what you'd said to joshua earlier.

you did have a tendency to wear baggier clothes. hell, there really was no difference between wearing something of his and a piece of your own. it was incredibly rare for you to show skin or any sort of silhouette, and those instances were really reserved for nights too warm to handle in which you had to opt for some shorts and a tank top.

but even then, you went for looser ensembles. clothes that showed your figure were never really your forte.

you couldn't help but wonder if this ever bothered josh. would he have preferred if your style varied more? what if he thought of you as a prude? maybe he-

"what's got you thinking so loud?", the boy in question interrupted your inner turmoil.

you hadn't realized as you sat in front of your vanity, face wash in hand and still unused, that you'd frozen in place as you thought. his presence in the restroom hadn't registered until he spoke.

"just, uh," you pondered as to whether or not to voice your concerns, but his compassionate smile reflecting on the mirror made you decide, "i was thinking that maybe you'd like it better if i dressed differently? you know, maybe show more skin?"

you voiced it as a question, insecurities building in you as you sought a direct expression of his preferences.

"are you kidding? i like how you dress. and it's not really something that bothers me. you're comfortable and you're beautiful. it's a win-win situation for me," he kind of chuckled as he spoke, finding your question very sudden and unnecessary.

"oh."

you felt a bit dumb now.

"has this been worrying you? you know i'm like obsessed with you, right? you could wear a trash bag and i'd still be as obsessed," he joked, closing in on you similarly to how he'd done earlier in the day.

he finished his statement with a kiss pressed to your lips, humming when you kissed back.

"this just gives me free reign of your closet. i hope you know that," you jested.

"baby, i'm rich. take whatever you want."

[happyyyandcrazyyy]

matching bracelets (kaz brekker x reader)

summary: when (y/n) buys kaz a bracelet she does so as a joke, she knows he’ll never actually wear it. imagine her surprise when she sees it dangling around his wrist.

based on the prompt: person A gets person B a friendship bracelet, expecting person B to never wear it, but when it’s given to them person B puts it on and is rarely seen with it off.

warnings: mentions of blood and torture (not explicit, briefly mentioned)

kaz taglist: @the-tpd-bau @ellievickstar @thestudiouswanderer | soc taglist: @ancientbeing10 (if you want to be added or removed from the taglist just dm me!)

a/n: guess who's back after a year of being mia!! i've been working on a lot of fics, but inspiration just hasn't been there, so i'm going slow, i don't like to force myself to write if i don't feel like it. anywaysss, i hope you enjoy this one! it was such a fun ride to write :)

Jesper opens the door with a loud bang, strutting into the Slat with his head held high and a slight jump in his step. He’s whistling good-naturedly, his left hand twirling a pistol and his right hand holding a rumpled piece of paper.

(Y/N)’s right hand— which had immediately reached for the pocket knife in her boot at the tumultuous noise— retreats back to her side. She relaxes, letting her shoulders sag and briefly looking down to make the final correction on a contract Kaz had her look over, left hand holding the pen and swiftly moving over the paper.

Jesper makes his way towards her, still whistling. She follows him from the corner of her eye, a slight smirk taking over her features. He’s in a good mood, the kind of mood he’s only ever in when the Gods are in his favor and he manages to miraculously not gamble away all his money. It’s not something that happens often.

“Did you win some?” she asks, already knowing the answer but enjoying the way the Sharpshooter preens under the attention. Jesper, very much in character and to (Y/N)’s delight, twirls around and does a ridiculous dance before taking a small bow.

“Baby, I won a whole lot.”

She huffs out a laugh, leaning back as she watches him place the pistol in its respective holster before plopping down on the chair by her right side and tossing her a small bag.

(Y/N) catches it smoothly, reflexes as sharp as always.

She doesn’t need to open the sack to know there’s kruge in there; the sound of coins jiggling against each other is a dead giveaway.

Jesper winks, a teasing smile on his lips. He tips his chair back, feet on top of the table, “Because you’re my favorite.”

It’s really because he owes her more kruge than he’ll ever be able to repay, but (Y/N) plays along. She’s never cared much about money, anyways.

“You sure do know how to charm a lady,” she smirks.

“I’m good at charming gents, too.”

“Versatile.”

“You know me.”

(Y/N) smiles, softer around the edges this time, something reserved only for her closest friends. She’s about to being correcting another contact— she has twelve to go through, all because she’d been bored and had decided annoying Kaz would be a great way to spend her time, he obviously hadn’t agreed —when Jesper slides over the piece of paper he’d been holding in his right hand. In the time he’d made his way towards her he’d somehow managed to crumple it completely.

She takes it, half curious, half willing to do anything to procrastinate revising and correcting those stupid documents.

“Brought this for you, too. I’ve got the feeling you’re going to enjoy this much more than the money.”

Her eyebrows furrow with curiosity as she slowly opens up the paper.

Ink contrasts the yellowish hue of the paper. Her own face greets her, drawn by hand, but fairly accurate.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N)

Wanted dead or alive.

1,000 kruge.

She can’t help the snicker that falls from her lips

Jesper is right. This is better, much better.

“Can’t believe it’s only a thousand this time,” she huffs, a small pout on her lips. “I must be losing my touch.”

Jesper snorts at that.

(Because she hasn’t lost her touch, not even a little, and they both know it. Just yesterday she’d managed to get vital information out of a Black Tip member with a single touch and a minimal amount of bloodshed. Three days before that she’d disposed of a rival gang member who’d been speaking too freely and she’d made sure his body would never be found. Two weeks prior to that Kaz had sent her to steal a miniature stature and she’d done it without a hitch, forging an identical copy in less than five days. No, she still very much has it.)

“I might have to go overboard next time,” she muses quietly to herself, “do something that will raise the bounty to at least two thousand five hundred.”

She traces the outline of her name, biting down a smile when Jesper snorts.

“You’re insane,” the Sharpshooter deadpans, the fondness in his tone almost tangible.

(Y/N) smiles wickedly at him, “So they say.”

Marbles is what they’ve nicknamed her around the Barrel. They say she’s lost them all. And it must be true, she must be out of her mind, because having a bounty on your head in Ketterdam is nothing less than a death sentence. It means having the most ruthless assassins coming after you, all looking for a way to make fast money. It’s living with the constant fear of someone sneaking up on you and slicing your throat, of having your food poisoned, of being choked to death in your sleep, of having your closest friends betray you as a means to survive. But to (Y/N), who has been part of the city’s underworld since before being able to formulate words, who has had any sort of ability to feel fear beaten out of her, this is nothing but one of the most amazing sources of entertainment. It keeps her on her toes, brings an adrenaline rush that does not compare to anything else. She must be crazy because any sane person would be paralyzed in fear, running for their lives, and yet all she can feel is the comforting thrill of being in mortal danger. (And, yes, it is comforting. She was raised to be a weapon, trained to withstand any form of torture; having Death peering over her shoulder is something she’s comfortable with, something she’s used to, something that soothes her). Besides, even if she wasn’t deadly confident in her own abilities (which she very much is), and even if she was able to feel terror overtaking her limbs (which she doesn’t think she’ll ever feel again), the title she holds would be enough to keep her relatively safe; she is Kaz’s right hand, and no one dares touch something that belongs to Dirtyhands.

(Y/N) stares at the poster for a little while longer— they got her nose wrong, made it too pointy —before smirking to herself. She knows how this will all go down, has seen it played out a few dozen times before (this is a regular occurrence, after all, a bounty is placed on her head every couple of months, whenever she loses her temper and murders someone who was deemed untouchable, or steals something much too valuable for her blood-stained hands). So, yes, she knows how this will go; the bounty will stay up for a couple of weeks, long enough for a few to dare try to kill her, and then it’ll be removed by whoever placed it once they realize it’s futile, once they see how everyone who even dares breathe too close to her winds up dead. She hopes the assassination attempts are entertaining, she hopes whoever dares come after her head gives her a good fight, if only to keep things interesting. It’s been a while since she’s had some unrestrained fun.

(Kaz keeps her on a tight rein, knows better than to let her run around freely. To say things can get out of hand when she’s left to her own devices would be an understatement.)

“Again?”

The voice comes from behind her, and (Y/N) doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is, she heard his steps since before he even walked into the room. (It’s easy to know when it’s Kaz, he subconsciously places more weight on his left leg to keep the right one from aching, it makes his footsteps distinctive.) Still, she angles her head to meet his eyes. He’s leaning over her chair, cold eyes watching the bounty poster with disdain.

He’s never said it but (Y/N) knows that he doesn’t appreciate her life being imperiled. She is, in a way, an extension of him, and therefore any threats to her he sees as direct threats to him. Dirtyhands doesn’t take it well to being threatened.

“It’s okay, boss,” Jesper calls out. He’s still tipping his chair back, now playing with his guns. (Y/N) is kind of tempted to lean forward and kick one of the chair’s wooden legs, just to watch him struggle, possibly even fall. But Jesper’s known her long enough to realize when she’s on the verge of becoming a nuisance because his eyes narrow playfully and he lets the chair’s weight drop forward, “I wouldn’t worry too much.”

From the corner of her eye, (Y/N) can see the way Kaz’s face morphs. It’s almost indistinguishable, but she notices it. She thinks she would be able to spot the most minimal change in Kaz, she’s known him long enough for that. (Y/N) watches in amusement as he opens his mouth, no doubt to argue that he isn’t worrying at all, because Gods forbid he ever outwardly cared about anyone, but Jesper beats him to the punch and keeps going, “Heard some of Pekka’s Lions talking ‘bout how they’re not even going to try to come after her this time.”

“How boring,” she mutters to herself in disappointment, reaching for her glass of whisky. She’d meant for the comment to go unheard but Jesper’s snicker tells her that she wasn’t successful.

She takes a chug as Jesper points an accusatory finger at her and smirks, “That’s all on you, Marbles.”

At her bewildered look, he elaborates, “Two of them said something about not wanting to meet the same fate as the Razorgull guy from a couple of months ago—” (Y/N) smirks at that. The guy had deserved it. He hadn’t just tried to kill her, but also grope her. Murder she could understand, respect even, but touching someone else without their consent? No, she drew the line there. She’d had him swallow his own testicles; it’d seemed fitting enough. “—and the other one said that even if you hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t come close, not with you being Kaz’s right hand,” Jesper pauses for a second, a smug smile appearing on his lips, “and his best friend.”

Their reaction is instantaneous; Kaz goes rigid at the words and a smirk takes over (Y/N)’s features.

Oh, if the night didn’t just suddenly get better.

She glances up at her best friend, only to find him already glaring daggers at Jesper, who shrugs helplessly and innocently says, “Just telling it like I heard it, boss.” The flicker of amusement in his eyes reveals that he’s very much aware of just how much ammunition he’s provided (Y/N) with.

(Y/N)’s smirk becomes wider and gains a teasing edge when Kaz looks down to meet her eyes. His eyes harden, explicitly telling her to not utter a single word. Sadly for him, she has never been one to follow the rules, and Kaz must notice she’s not about to obey because his face morphs slightly, just enough to show the most minimum amount of discomfort. He cringes just the tiniest bit, bracing himself.

He knows her too well.

“You hear that?” she asks him, tone light and filled with amusement, “We’re best friends!”

“We are not,” Kaz tenses his jaw as he replies. He backs away from her, as if creating physical space between them will somehow stop the words from leaving her mouth and making their way towards him. As if distance could make her less of an bother.

(Y/N) fake gasps, clutching the skin over her heart in the most dramatic manner, “You wound me deeply, Kazzy.”

Jesper snorts, coughing to try to drown the laughter. She might be the only one who doesn’t get a knife to the jugular when calling him that.

Kaz’s eyes snap toward the Sharpshooter and the look must be deadly because Jesper quiets down immediately and tries his best to evade the boss’s glare. Kaz’s gaze then shifts towards (Y/N) and she perks up at the way his eyes harden even further in annoyance. He’s told her a million times to drop that ‘ridiculously stupid’ nickname and she’s decided she never will, not when it drives him to this point of exasperation.

(She’s a thrill chaser, you see. That’s what happens when you’ve seen just about everything and lived twice as much; few things get your heart pumping. And getting on Kaz’s nerves? That’s always exciting. (Y/N) never knows what to expect of him. The Bastard of the Barrel is unpredictable in a way that’s just delightful.)

“If you call me that one more time—”

“What are you gonna do? You can’t possibly try to hurt me. Best friends don’t do that to each other,” she mocks.

His eyebrow twitches, her grin stretches.

Oh, she’s going to have a field day with this one.

It’s obvious that Kaz knows he’s not winning this discussion because he walks forward, snatches the revised contracts and makes his way back to where he came from.

“Get those done before tomorrow afternoon.”

Boring. She was expecting more banter.

(Y/N) turns around to watch him leave, unable to stop herself from throwing a sarcastic, “Sure thing, bestie.” She does her best to sweeten the last word in a way that she knows will infuriate Kaz.

He freezes.

Bingo.

Even from afar, (Y/N) can see the way he tightens the grip on his cane. She’s thoroughly disappointed when he doesn’t throw a dagger her way. That would’ve been exciting. He takes another route, one she should’ve seen coming.

“I’ve got seven more files that need to be corrected. Collect them when you’re done with those.”

The corner of her lips tugs upwards slightly. There’s something thrilling about playing this game with Kaz, of seeing how much one of them can push before the other yields. He’s skilled and she enjoys the competition.

She ignores his order, “Goodnight, Kazzy.”

He slams the door on his way out, the only visible sign that she managed to get on his nerves. That’s mildly entertaining. Causing even the slightest slip of Kaz’s control over his temper is a success in her books.

“You’re out of your mind,” Jesper informs her.

She raises her glass of whisky at him and winks.

And that’s how it begins, as a joke. (Y/N) refers to Kaz as her best friend on every given chance. His reactions never disappoint.

There’s a lot of death threats;

(“Don’t mind him, bestie here is always grumpy.”

Clenched jaw, an exasperated sigh. “I will murder you.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Kazzy.”

There’s a knife thrown her way. (Y/N) catches it with ease, whistling good-naturedly. She smirks when she catches the look of annoyance in Kaz’s face.)

and a lot of not so kind words thrown her way.

(“I get special best friend privileges, right?”

“You get tolerated,” Kaz mutters, “barely.”

“That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me. Now tell me you love me.”

There’s that Brekker glare, one that would send anyone to an early grave. (Y/N) just smiles sweetly.

“Get out.”

“Whatever makes you happy, best friend.”

She cackles as she closes the door behind her, the curses Kaz is sending her way loud enough for her to hear.)

All in all, (Y/N) is as happy as can be. Having the time of her life, really. It’s not often that she finds something that makes Kaz fume. He plays the game too, of course. He has her going over financial documents and legal contracts on her free time, knowing just how much she hates the bureaucracy, and he gives her the household chores she despises the most. Still, (Y/N) doesn’t complain. She does everything with a smug smile on her face. The annoyance that flashes through Kaz’s face makes it all worth it.

The bracelet isn’t something she plans for, it really isn’t, but the Saints place the opportunity right in front of her and who is she but a mere mortal that must obey the signs evidently laid by otherworldly deities (or whatever bullshit those religious fanatics preach).

(Y/N) inspects the wristlets in her hand. They’re black and rough, made of broken-down nets that fishermen dispose of near the pier when the material has worn down beyond repair and is no longer useful. The little girl who had sold it to her couldn’t have been older than seven, and yet the design was more than decent. (Y/N) had offered three kruge for it, much more than it was worth. The child had looked delighted, had thanked her profusely as she’d placed the coins inside her worn-down shoes.

Oh, (Y/N) cannot wait to see Kaz’s face.

“What’s that?” Jesper asks as she meets up with him, eying the bracelets with a gleam of interest. He twirls his guns absentmindedly, missing the way some of the fishermen glance at him with distrust.

“Oh, you know, just some matching bracelets for me and my best friend.”

Jesper snickers, shaking his head and proceeding to let out a low whistle.

“This might be his breaking point.”

“Wouldn’t that be delightful.”

“You’re insane, Marbles.”

She gives him a wicked smile accompanied by a wink. She’s about to retort when she catches sight of a shadow on the corner of her eye. She recognizes it immediately as her target. Shopping, as fun as it had been, wasn’t the reason she and Jesper were waiting by the pier. They’ve got orders. She has people to torture and interrogate and dispose of— preferably in a quiet manner —and Jesper is Kaz’s way of making sure she’s got her back covered. (Not that she needs backup, but whatever, she has tried arguing with Kaz about it and it’s the one thing he won’t relent on, the one matter she’s accepted she won't ever win. Kaz doesn't play when it comes to her safety.).

“If you’re kind enough to hold these for me,” she places the bracelets on Jesper’s unoccupied hand, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

They make it back to the Slat before sunrise. (Y/N) had been quick and efficient, as she always was, and Jesper had been a quiet and solid shadow, as he always was.

“I assume it all went according to plan,” the Bastard asks when he hears their steps coming into his office. It’s late, or rather extremely early in the morning, and yet (Y/N) isn’t surprised by Kaz’s presence. He rarely sleeps.

“It went without a hitch, boss,” Jesper responds, resting against the doorframe.

(Y/N) hesitates for a split second, her memory providing a brief flashback to the interrogation she’d done, to three little words the man had let slip out: they’re coming for you.

A warning or maybe a promise.

Thrilling, either way. It wasn’t often that she was verbally threatened.

At the time, she’d dismissed the words, too filled with bloodlust to pay them any mind, but now, with a clear mind and a steady heartbeat, she suddenly remembers her face plastered on paper all over Ketterdam and wonders if the words might be related to the bounty on her head.

Oh, she hopes so. That would prove to be fun.

They’re coming for you. Good. Let them try.

She nods her head in agreement with Jesper’s words. Kaz nods in approval and then jerks his chin Jesper’s way, a clear sign of dismissal. The Sharpshooter never walks into Kaz’s office after missions like this. He’s an escort, a babysitter of sorts, merely Kaz’s way of making sure she heads his way instead of making a beeline for her bed.

(Y/N) sticks her tongue out at him and Jesper blows her a kiss in response.

Lucky bastard. It’s always her that has to stay up to report. And she hates to admit it, but she’s tired, she can feel the exhaustion begin to creep on her bones and settle in. She has been up for more than thirty-seven hours at this point, and she can feel it catching up to her. Still, she knows that Kaz prefers to hear details when the information is fresh on her mind, when she can provide as much detail as possible, so she pushes through for him. She just has to wait a little while longer before crawling into her bed and passing out for the next twelve hours.

“Marbles comes bearing gifts by the way,” is the last thing the Sharpshooters says before exiting.

A smirk takes over her features, sleep, exhaustion and the new information briefly forgotten.

Kaz is going to hate it.

Lovely.

Kaz seems to sense, probably by the wicked amusement on her face, that whatever it is it’s not something he’s going to enjoy. His face twists into a scowl.

“Out with it, then.”

She pulls out the dark bracelet from her pocket as she walks towards Kaz, dangling it in front of his face when she’s close enough.

Jesper had handed them back on the way home, tossing them over as soon as she’d wiped the blood off her hands. He hadn’t said a word, but (Y/N) knew that the action had meant to snap her out of the weird haze that clouded her mind after every mission, where adrenaline still coursed through her body and all she could think about was bloodshed, fingers itching to kill and maim and fight.

(It was a thing, the haze. When taking lives there was nothing but calmness and bloodthirst, the restlessness that always lingered beneath her skin subsiding as soon as a weapon was placed in her hand and orders were given. And as soon as the mission was done, as soon as the target was neutralized and she’d efficiently fulfilled her orders, fogginess followed. Her mind became clouded, as if somewhat trapped in a loop of violence, every nerve on edge and ready for any threat to emerge.

She was brought up as a killing machine, a child soldier, the best out of all the assassins produced by the Silent Blades, her father’s pride. She was ruthless, wretched, or at least those had been the words used to describe her when she’d been a child. She supposed the dissociative state she slipped into was normal when considering her upbringing, some sort of psychological shield that kept her from going insane.

She never spoke about it, but the Crows somehow knew. They often eased her out of it, knowing full well that when trapped in that state she had not an ounce of thought and only muscle memory to rely on, which made her infinitely more lethal.)

Jesper’s actions had worked like a charm. With something else to do with her hands, the fogginess had ruptured. She’d absentmindedly tied one of the bracelets on her own wrist, fingers playing with the edges of the other.

It’s that bracelet, the one on her arm, that Kaz glances at now. It’s brief, but for a split second the scowl etched on his face softens and something that she can’t quite catch passes through his eyes. It’s gone before (Y/N) can even begin to process it.

“Best friends have to have matching bracelets, don’t they?” And if she wonders about it later, she’ll blame it on the exhaustion, but the words come out softer than she intends them to. A jest, but not any less truthful.

Kaz’s face morphs and she gets a fleeting glimpse at that flicker in his eyes again. His scowl melts into something a tad bit gentler, the look contrasted by the aggressiveness with which he snatches the bracelet from her hand, “You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.” He means that and his tone has enough bite to make her cackle.

Amusing.

Placing her hands on her back pockets and shrugging, she responds, “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Kaz snorts, “Go take a bath.” He dismisses her, turning around and making his way to his desk, “Reports can wait until you don’t look half dead.”

That’s unexpected.

(Y/N) raises her eyebrows, “You’re being nice.” It isn’t often that Kaz forgoes a report after a mission. He might’ve been more touched by the gift than he’s letting on.

“It’s for my own sake,” he retorts, not turning around, “you just stink and it’s making me nauseous.”

She does have a lingering smell of blood and sea water.

“Everything in this damned place stinks,” she responds. I know you’re lying, she’s saying, I know you’re being kind.

“Get out.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” (Y/N) mocks, walking out of his office.

She sleeps a full day after that, everyone knowing better than to bother her unless they want to lose to their head, and when she reports to Kaz the next morning the three words she’d heard from the man slip her mind. (Y/N) doesn’t remember them until a few weeks later when she’s tied to the ceiling by her wrists, face bleeding.

Now, she must admit, she’s impressed. No one had ever tried kidnapping before. There’d been more attempts on her life than she could even count; stabs resulting in blood being shed, never one drop of hers, poison that she had either swallowed down like a champ or identified before a single lick of it touched her tongue, because being raised an assassin meant she’d been trained in the art of toxins and she’d built up tolerance to pretty much every substance in existence, and that one time they’d tried to shot at her, which only resulted in (Y/N) stealing Jesper’s gun and placing a bullet right between the perpetrator’s eyebrows. All in good fun. Kidnapping was new, but only because those who had attempted on her life had never tried joining forces, all of them wishing to keep the financial reward for themselves.

Torturing, that was new, too.

She could endure, of course she could, she’d been trained for this. That did not mean she’d missed it.

The poster had stated she was wanted dead or alive and it was clear that the man in front of her wanted to take his time. It was personal, she could tell by the brunt of his hits and the delicate precision of his cuts. Had she been anyone else, she would’ve been begging for it to stop, but (Y/N) was a Silent Blade, even if she’d left the organization and that life behind, and she would never break.

The only reason she was in this situation was because the assailants had gotten the upper hand. They’d used one of (Y/N)’s street urchins— a little girl with piggy tails and two missing teeth, one of the ones who gathered information for (Y/N) and traded it for food and shelter —as leverage. And time had apparently made her soft because she’d hesitated. The brief second of doubt had been everything they’d needed.

Them subduing her didn’t mean she’d gone down without a fight. There’d been five of them in the beginning. Only three remained. She’d plucked one guy’s eye out, going deep enough to sever the optic nerve and cause brain damage, and she’d ripped the other’s ear with her teeth before slitting his throat. She’d managed to stab one of the three men remaining with a dagger before being injected with some unknown serum. It hadn’t knocked her out, not the way it was supposed to if the incredulous look on her kidnapper’s face was any indication, but it had drugged her enough to allow them to overpower her.

And now here she was, slowly bleeding out.

“I intent on handing your corpse to them and claiming the reward.” He’s been quiet for so long that (Y/N) had almost forgotten his presence. She doesn’t raise her head, only looks up. It’s hard to do so when her right eye is swollen shut. “But they never specified the conditions it had to be in.”

The man has his back towards her, fingers running through a box of tools. He’s used almost all of them on her by this point. Amateur. A skilled torturer knows to go slow, to drag it out, to choose a weapon and stick to it until the person is weeping and screaming.

“It was my brother that you killed.”

That sparks her interest, a smirk taking over her bloodied lips. She looks at him, dead in the eye.

“Which one?” she taunts.

The sound of her voice, still strong despite the blood loss, startles him. He freezes for a split second, hand over a wooden baseball bat.

“What?”

She snickers, blood dripping into the floor. “I’ve killed a lot of men, darling.” The way he seethes, fury filling his features, amuses her. “So which one was your brother?”

“You had him swallow his own testicles.”

“Oh, him,” she nods her head in appreciation. “Can’t say I regret it.”

Now he’s fuming, hand shaking so badly he almost loses the grip on the bat. If (Y/N) looks close enough she can see the resemblance. Same brown hair, same nose, same crazy look in their eyes.

“I’ll make you regret it.”

“You can certainly try,” she concedes mockingly. Because, honestly, there’s nothing he can do to her that she hasn’t already withstood.

There’s a raging roar and then a burst of pain. A hit to her abdomen, which no doubt bruised a rib, and then two to her back. But it’s okay, she thinks to herself as she wheezes and coughs, trying to regain air in her lungs, she knows how to play this game and how to win it. Keep him talking, keep him angry, let him think he has the upper hand, keep him from noticing how she’s preparing to break free.

“I wonder…” he murmurs, bat dragging behind him. “You’re not particularly remarkable.” She scoffs as he begins circling her, a tactic supposed to drive the prisoner into panic at the lack of vision of their assailant. Her heart doesn’t stutter. She’s trained to identify people and objects by sound not sight. She knows precisely where he is, even if she can’t see him. “So, what makes you interesting enough for the Bastard to keep so close?”

She grins, feral and with bloodstained teeth.

“Why don’t you come closer and I’ll show you?”

His face does not change but his step falters. “You cannot believe me stupid enough to fall for that.”

“You were stupid enough to tie my wrists with handcuffs,” is all she replies before dislocating her own thumbs and releasing herself from the shackles.

She hits the floor hard, body swaying for a second. Her hands are numb, nerve endings frayed. It hits her, now that she has to keep herself outfight, just how much blood she’s lost. The edges of her vision blur.

There’s a cut on her thigh, it bleeds heavily. Her back is all flayed skin. Breathing is hard.

It doesn’t matter. She only needs four fingers and half a mind to hold and use a dagger. She shakes the dizziness off.

He comes at her, but she’s expecting that. Sidestepping him is easy, kicking him in the back as he passes by even more so.

“You’re not much without your friends and a syringe full of drugs, are you?” she stumbles a little as she taunts him. Time is not on her side, she knows this. He’s cut deep in her arms and legs, no major artery touched, but with precision to give her a slow and prolonged death. She’s been steadily bleeding for hours.

(Y/N) has to end this. Soon.

He comes for her again, and she dodges, punching him right in the gut. He feigns left and she moves away, noticing too late the fist that impacts with the right side of her face. Despite the pain, she manages to stomp his toes and slam her knee against his balls.

That does it.

A high whimper leaves his mouth and as he struggles for air, she backs up. Keeping her eyes on him, her right arm reaches back to the toolbox. She knows what she’s grasped as soon as her fingers graze it.

“Say hi to your brother for me.”

The scalpel lodges itself right on his carotid artery.

“Nice,” she mumbles in delirium as she hears him choke to death. It’d been a majestic throw.

The adrenaline is gone in a second. (Y/N) stumbles backwards, barely aware of all the tools scattering around in the floor. She lets herself rest against the wall, slowly sitting down on the floor.

She’s going to die.

It doesn’t matter that she’s managed to get rid of that poor excuse of a man. She’s too injured. She knows.

(Y/N) isn’t scared. She’s tangled with Death for a long time, and as cold begins to creep in and the edges of her vision blacken, it feels like welcoming an old friend. It feels like getting what she has always had coming for her.

The tips of her fingers begin to tingle, her body’s desperate effort at keeping her heart pumping. Her ears are ringing, hard enough that when shouts begin all that she can hear are muffled sounds.

Then someone’s touching her face. She greets the warmth.

“Fuck,” she hears as she tumbles forward, her forehead landing on a collarbone. Jesper grasps the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. At least, she thinks it’s him. Her brain feels mushy, but her nose has never failed her, and it smells like gunpowder and mint.

She’s laid down on the ground gently, probably to inspect her injuries before moving her.

“You’re going to be okay,” the Sharpshooter reassures her, but his voice is trembling. He’s scared. She must look worse than she feels, and she feels like she’s been attacked by a group of Heartrenders.

She wants to speak, to tell him it’s okay, but opening her mouth feels like an impossible task.

“Save your energy.” That’s Kaz. His voice is steady, but she can feel the underlying tension, the worry in his words. “You are not dying tonight.” And he says it with so much conviction, like he would hold her soul with his own hands to keep it anchored to her body, like he would keep her heart beating with pure willpower.

Her eyes look for him, but she catches sight of something else entirely.

“You’re wearing it.”

She must make no sense, words slurred, but Kaz understands. His whispered words are the last thing she hears before slipping out of consciousness.

“How couldn’t I?”

Then there’s nothing. She loses track of time. She comes back to her body from time to time, able to hear words but incapable of pinpointing the speaker. She’s floating, but there’s pain and aching.

“…too much blood, I don’t know…”

“…keep her alive.”

“I am trying!”

“Don’t try, do it.”

“…punctured lung, broken ribs…”

“…don’t know how she’s still alive.”

When she comes to the first thing that she feels is blinding pain. Everything hurts. Her muscles complain as she sits up. She clenches her jaw to keep the tears at bay. The worst is already over, she will not cry.

“Don’t move,” (Y/N) freezes at the command, her head snapping towards the voice. “Nina stitched you back together, I doubt she would be very happy to see all her hard work ruined.”

She gently eases herself back on the bed, fingertips running over her bandaged stomach. She can feel the edges of the stitches poking through it. It must’ve been bad, then, if she required stitches to keep the wound together. Usually, she’s a fast healer, a result of all the training she’d gone through.

“How long?” Her voice is raspy after not being used. Her throat hurts, which might be related to the way she was choked to the verge of unconsciousness several times while held hostage.

“Four nights.”

Bad then.

(Y/N) can feel Kaz’s eyes on her, assessing. She meets his stare, and it’s when she’s looking at him that a vague memory comes back.

Her eyes drift down to his wrist.

The twin bracelet to her own, the one she keeps tightly wrapped around her wrist, as if part of her own skin, greets her.

“You are wearing it.”

Kaz frowns in confusion, until he follows her line of sight. He looks away, hand clenching and unclenching over the head of his cane.

“Even after almost dying you’re still insufferable,” he responds.

But when he looks back at her, (Y/N) can see everything in his eyes.

How could I not, he’d said, and he’d meant it. If friendship was something that could bloom in a wretched place like Ketterdam, Kaz was her best friend and she was his, even if they’d never discussed it, even if they would never admit it. You’re the steady order to my unrelenting chaos, she thought to herself, someone I would follow to the end of the world.

He nods, as if reading her mind and agreeing with her.

“Rest.” That’s an order, one she has no intention of disobeying.

“Sure thing,” she responds as Kaz makes his way towards the door, “bestie.”

(Y/N) can feel the amusement in his words, “Absolutely insufferable.”

She smirks, toying with the ends of the bracelet’s strings.

(Y/N) never takes it off. Neither does Kaz.

[rootedinrevisions]

Just...Stay

SUMMARY: When he rolls back into her life every few months, Tyler Owens brings with him all the irresistible charm and warmth that first captured her heart, leaving her breathless and hoping for more. But as the years slip by, so do his promises, and every departure leaves her with another fracture in her heart and fewer illusions about the man she loves. Caught between the comfort of the life she’s built and the pull of the only man who’s ever felt like home, she must finally decide: will she wait for him one last time, or find the courage to let go and forge a path on her own? PART 2 HERE

Inspired loosely by "All the Cowboys" by Alexandra Kay.

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

WARNINGS: Angst. Unrequited love. Mentions of/Implied Smut.

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists or be tagged for a specific character please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Twisters (Mostly Tyler right now, but possibly others soon)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The screen door creaked as you settled onto the back porch steps, the sun beginning to dip beneath the horizon. You held the phone close, balancing it between your shoulder and ear as you traced absent circles on the weathered wood with your fingertip.

Your mom’s voice crackled on the other end, warm and familiar. “You’ve been keeping busy out there?”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, Mama. Got a load of wash done, fixed that fence post that was leaning. Even tried to fix the gutter on the barn.”

She chuckled. “You sound like you’re doing just fine then. So, what’s got you out on that porch, calling me like you got the weight of the world on your shoulders?”

You hesitated, glancing out at the fields stretching endlessly before you, caught between the quiet beauty of dusk and the ache you felt blooming inside. “I don’t know, Mama,” you said, almost whispering. “Just feeling a little lost, I guess.”

There was a long pause on the other end, and you could almost hear her piecing it together. “You saw him again, didn’t you?”

A sigh escaped you, a mix of regret and resignation. “Yeah, I did. He was just… there, like nothing had changed.” You shook your head, remembering the way he’d looked at you, that familiar glint in his eye. “I know what you’re gonna say, Mama.”

She didn’t hesitate. “That boy’s no good. He comes ‘round whenever he pleases, but he leaves just as quick. You can’t be holding out for someone like that, honey.”

You felt your chest tighten, the truth of her words hitting harder than you’d like to admit. “I know, Mama. Believe me, I know.” You picked at a loose thread on your sleeve, fingers fidgeting. “But when he’s here… it’s like I forget all that. I forget how many times he’s done this before, how I feel every time he leaves.” Your voice grew softer, thick with frustration. “And then he’s gone, and it feels like… like there’s this empty spot he left behind.”

There was a pause before she spoke again, her voice gentle but firm. “Why do you let him do this to you, sweetheart?”

You exhaled slowly, shoulders slumping. “I don’t know. Maybe I keep hoping it’ll be different. That maybe… he’ll stay.” The words sounded hollow even as you said them.

You could feel her weighing her response, the silence heavy between you. “Honey, some people just aren’t made to stay. They get what they need and they’re gone, leaving folks like you to pick up the pieces.” She paused, and you could almost see her shaking her head. “But that doesn’t make it right.”

A lump formed in your throat as you thought of Tyler driving off into the sunset, no promises, no goodbyes—just gone. You let out a weary breath, looking down at the chipped paint on the porch step beneath you. 

“Why do they always leave, Mama? Every time things get good, he just vanishes.”

“Oh, honey…” She sighed, the sound deep and knowing. “It’s in some folks’ nature to chase what they don’t have, always looking for something else just over the next hill. Doesn’t mean you have to keep getting hurt by it, though.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the truth settle heavily in your chest. The silence stretched on, filled only by the chirping of crickets and the fading warmth of the sun. You knew your mother was right, but as you sat there, a small part of you still hoped that maybe, just maybe, he’d come back one day and stay.

The memory came back in a slow, aching wave. Just two nights ago, you and Tyler lay tangled up together under the sheets, his arm wrapped tightly around you. The world felt quiet in those moments, like the whole world had shrunk to just the two of you, his warm skin against yours, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek.

You tilted your head up to look at him, his face softened in the dim light. “So… how long are you sticking around this time?” you asked, half-joking, though you both knew the question carried a heavier weight.

Tyler’s gaze drifted, his lips twitching in that familiar, evasive way. “Maybe longer this time,” he mumbled, though he couldn’t quite meet your eyes when he said it. Instead, his thumb traced absent circles over your shoulder, a touch meant to soothe but only deepening the pit forming in your stomach.

You wanted to believe him, wanted to hold on to that maybe, but his tone, that shift in his eyes as he looked away—it was the same pattern, the same script. You’d been through this dance too many times not to recognize the truth hiding behind his words. He would be gone by morning. And as much as he’d tried to sell you that soft maybe, the two of you understood this wasn’t a visit that would last.

But in that moment, as you curled up against his side, you pretended you didn’t know. You buried yourself in the warmth of his embrace, letting yourself have just one night, pretending you wouldn’t wake up alone.

And sure enough, the next morning, when your hand reached across the bed to his side, it found nothing but cool sheets. You stared at the empty space beside you, that hollow ache settling deep in your chest. With a sigh, you threw back the covers and padded over to the closet, grabbing one of his old T-shirts he’d left on one of his previous stays, back when you still believed he might keep leaving pieces of himself behind to build something more permanent with you.

The shirt smelled faintly of him, a hint of cedar and summer nights that made your throat tighten. Tugging it over your head, you went to the kitchen, the floor cold against your bare feet as you filled the kettle, automatically going through the motions of your morning coffee.

And that’s when you saw it—the note, lying in the center of the kitchen table, his handwriting scrawled across the torn piece of paper.

It was a short message, just a handful of words that were supposed to feel like a promise, but instead felt like one more empty reassurance. You picked it up, reading the rushed lines that only served to emphasize his absence.

Didn’t want to wake you. Take care, darlin’. I’ll see you around.

The words felt flimsy, like the paper might disintegrate under the weight of your disappointment. You crumpled the note in your fist, feeling the familiar sting behind your eyes. This wasn’t new—this cycle of him drifting in, leaving pieces of himself in the form of old T-shirts and half-hearted promises, only to vanish before you could say goodbye.

You’d been through this so many times before, and yet, as you stood there, clutching that note, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this time was the one that would finally break you.

Your mom’s voice cut through the silence, gentle but firm. “Honey, you still there?”

You blinked, realizing you’d let the silence drag on too long, your mind caught in the weight of memories you could barely hold onto. “Yeah, Mama,” you murmured, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

“I know you love him,” she continued softly, but her words carried a strength you weren’t sure you had anymore. “But I need you to ask yourself if he’s treating you like he loves you, too. ’Cause, baby, love isn’t something you only hold onto when it’s convenient. It’s there in the hard times, in the moments that aren’t so pretty. And if he’s not showing up for you… maybe it’s time to ask yourself why you’re still waiting.”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see you, staring down at the crumpled note still clutched in your hand. The truth of her words was painful, like a splinter lodged too deep to pull out.

“I know,” you whispered. “I know you’re right.”

“I just hate seeing you go through this, time and again,” she said, her voice tinged with a sorrow that made your chest ache. “You deserve someone who’s there for you, who doesn’t keep running just because things start feeling real.”

You exhaled, forcing a smile that felt as brittle as glass. “Thanks, Mama. I… I just needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, baby,” she said, her tone softening. “You take care of yourself. And remember, it’s okay to let go.”

After a quiet goodbye, you hung up, setting the phone down beside the note. Your mom’s words echoed in your mind, a steady reminder of what you deserved, a grounding tether pulling you back to reality. She was right, of course. She always was. And yet…No matter how many times he left, or how much you knew he wasn’t treating you the way you deserved, there was still a part of you—a foolish, stubborn part—that couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if he stayed. Just once.

You closed your eyes, letting the bittersweet ache of a daydream settle over you, imagining what it would be like if he stayed. Just once.

You could almost feel him there beside you, his arm still wrapped around you as you stirred awake. In this vision, his side of the bed wasn’t empty; he was there, his breathing slow and steady, a soft smile tugging at his lips as you rolled over to nuzzle closer. The warmth of his body against yours made you feel safe, grounded, as though he was finally, truly yours.

Later, you pictured the two of you in the kitchen, the early light streaming in through the window as you handed him a mug of coffee. He’d take it, wrapping his hands around yours just a second longer than necessary, his fingers warm against your skin. You’d share a quiet laugh over something simple, something easy, while the steam curled between you. And as he sat across from you, his eyes would linger like he was savoring the moment, like he was savoring you.

In your mind, you watched as he’d finish his coffee, rising from the table to head out to the fields with you. He’d tug on a worn cap and grin over his shoulder, his eyes crinkling in that way that always made your heart stumble. You’d walk side by side, falling into the comfortable rhythm of working together, your boots crunching over the soil as you talked about things that never came up in his fleeting visits. What you’d plant next season, what you’d add to the place if you had the time and the money. He’d joke about the future, and for once, you’d let yourself believe in it.

Evenings would come, and you’d find yourselves on the back porch, watching the sun dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow over everything. He’d reach for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You could almost feel the weight of his head resting against yours, his soft murmur of how he’d missed this, missed you. And as night fell, the stars would come out, and he’d pull you close, wrapping you in his arms as though he had nowhere else to be.

And then, in this daydream, he’d follow you back inside, his arm draped around your shoulders as you led him up to bed. There, tangled up in the sheets, he’d hold you close, his touch lingering and gentle, making you feel like you were the only person who’d ever mattered to him. His whispered promises wouldn’t be half-hearted or hesitant; they’d be real, as solid as the feel of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. You’d fall asleep in his arms, knowing he’d be there when you woke, that he’d finally found a place with you he wouldn’t leave behind.

But as you opened your eyes, the reality settled around you like a familiar chill. It was just a daydream, a vision of something you’d never have, as fleeting as his footprints fading from the dirt driveway. And yet, you couldn’t help but hold onto it for one more heartbeat, wishing with all the fragile hope you had left that someday, somehow, it could be real.

* * * * *

A MONTH LATER

It was a late afternoon, the sun dipping low and casting long shadows over the gravel drive as you stood on the porch, the distant rumble of an engine reaching your ears. You recognized that sound before you even saw the dust cloud rising in the distance, stirring up memories you’d been trying to put to rest for weeks. His truck rounded the last bend, and there he was, windows down, that easy, rugged grin spreading across his face as he slowed to a stop in front of the house.

Tyler stepped out, stretching his arms like he belonged there, like he hadn’t left you picking up the pieces last time. Dust clung to his boots as he walked toward you, his eyes fixed on yours with that familiar spark—one that made you feel seen in a way that was hard to shake, even when you wanted to.

He looked just the same, though maybe a little more sun-worn, his t-shirt clinging to his shoulders, his jeans frayed in a way that was somehow endearing, like they’d seen as much of the road as he had. He stopped a few steps away, his gaze softening as it met yours.

“Hey,” he said, voice warm and low, as if no time had passed at all.

You stayed still, hands clenched by your sides. You’d prepared yourself for this—told yourself a hundred times that if he showed up again, you’d keep your distance, guard the pieces of your heart he kept leaving behind. But as he stood there you felt the walls you’d built begin to crack.

“Hey,” you replied, the word catching in your throat.

A beat of silence hung between you, heavy with all the things left unsaid. Then his face softened, his smile widening in that way that always undid you. And, as if by instinct, he reached for you, his hand lifting to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with a gentleness that felt almost like an apology.

For a moment, you considered stepping back, holding onto the anger and hurt that had filled the empty space he left behind. But as his touch settled, as his thumb traced a line just below your cheekbone, all your defenses crumbled.

Before you knew it, you were reaching back, your hand settling over his as you let yourself lean into him. It was like slipping back into a familiar dream—the one where he stayed, where he was yours for longer than a fleeting moment.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, and you sank into his embrace, feeling the weight of his chin against your hair, the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. And in that moment, against all reason, you let yourself believe that maybe this time would be different, that maybe he’d come back not just to leave again, but to finally stay.

He held you close, his arms wrapped around you with that familiar, unguarded tenderness. His chin rested on top of your head, and for a moment, it felt as if the world beyond his embrace had faded away. His fingers traced slow circles on your back, a quiet, grounding rhythm that felt as real as his voice when he finally spoke, low and rough against your hair.

“I missed you,” he murmured, the words so soft you almost didn’t catch them. He shifted, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours. “I’m glad to see you again.”

You looked away for a moment, the words stirring both warmth and ache deep in your chest. It was unfair, the way he could come and go, the way he could leave you longing for more, but when he looked at you like that—with his guard down, that rugged charm softened by something raw and honest—it was hard to hold onto your resolve.

“I missed you too,” you whispered back, barely able to meet his gaze. He smiled at that, a slow, almost relieved smile, as if he’d feared he might’ve lost his place in your heart.

He let his hand drift to yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a familiar gesture. “Come on,” he said, tugging you gently, “let’s make a day of it.”

With Tyler by your side, you found yourself lost in the rhythm of farm chores that felt lighter, easier, with him there. He was quick to lend a hand, reaching for the same tools you did, working alongside you with that easy, capable grace he seemed to carry everywhere.

You walked through rows of vegetables, pulling up the last of the summer crops, the sun warm against your skin. Tyler watched as you tossed a few stray weeds into a pile, a hint of amusement in his gaze.

“So,” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence, “how’s the team? Boone, Lily, Dani, Dexter?”

He chuckled, swiping a smudge of dirt from his forearm. “They’re all good. Wild as ever. Boone’s still dragging his feet over settling down, though I keep telling him he’s a fool if he lets Lily go. And Dani’s got herself a new truck she’s way too proud of. Dexter? Well, you know him; he’s just happy to tag along for the adventure.”

You smiled at the thought of his friends, feeling a pang of longing for the life he lived—a world of movement and adventure, so different from the one you held steady here. “They sound like they’re keeping you busy.”

“Yeah, they do.” He looked at you, a softness to his expression that made your heart skip. “But they’re not the only ones.”

“What do you mean?”

“Been thinking about you too, you know. Wondering what you’re up to when I’m gone.” He paused, glancing around the fields before adding, “How’s your mom doing?”

You swallowed, touched that he remembered to ask. “She’s good. Stubborn as ever, trying to do too much on her own. But we manage.”

He nodded thoughtfully, reaching out to steady you when you stumbled on a loose patch of earth. “You’ve got your hands full, don’t you?”

“Guess so,” you said, shrugging with a small smile. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He looked at you then, his gaze lingering, as if taking in the way you belonged here, rooted to this land and this life. For a moment, you thought he might say something more, but he only squeezed your hand, wordlessly acknowledging that unspoken divide between his world and yours.

Later, after a simple dinner you’d shared at the kitchen table, you both made your way out to the porch as the sun dipped low in the sky. He settled onto the swing beside you, letting his arm drape casually over the back of it as you leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his shoulder beneath your cheek.

The evening was calm, the colors of the sunset stretching across the horizon in soft shades of pink and orange, and you found yourself sighing into the quiet.

“This…this is nice,” you murmured, glancing up at him.

Tyler gave a soft hum of agreement, his thumb tracing small, comforting circles along your shoulder. “Could get used to it,” he said, his voice soft, as if testing the thought aloud. “It’s different from the rush of things out there. Being here with you—it just feels right.”

The words settled between you, gentle and unassuming, but laced with a longing that you felt all too acutely. He looked down, catching your gaze, his eyes holding yours in the fading light.

“I know you’ve got your life on the road,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “But sometimes I wonder…what it’d be like if you stayed.”

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze drifting out over the fields that stretched into the distance. Finally, he gave a small nod. “I think about it too. More than you know.”

You fell into a comfortable silence, his arm around you, your head resting on his shoulder as the last light slipped below the horizon. And in that quiet moment, you let yourself imagine a world where he was yours—not just for today, but for all the days and nights to come.

In the quiet glow of the fading sunset, Tyler’s gaze grew heavy, lingering on yours with a kind of tenderness that always seemed to pull you in too deep, too fast. And in a heartbeat, he was scooping you up, lifting you effortlessly into his arms as you laughed, breathless and already feeling the rush of surrender. He carried you down the hallway, his eyes never leaving yours, each step filling the space with anticipation you could feel in every beat of your heart.

The bed was cool beneath you as he laid you gently on the sheets, his body following close, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of any distance between you. His hands were careful yet urgent as he traced familiar paths along your skin, murmuring against your ear, his voice low and rough with want. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he whispered, his breath warm against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. You closed your eyes, letting the sound of his voice wash over you, feeling the weight of his words settle deep in your chest. “I’m lucky,” he murmured, his lips brushing your collarbone. “I’m the luckiest damn man alive that you’re mine.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to cling to those words and tuck them away, to let them soothe every doubt he’d left behind. But you pushed the ache aside, banishing it to some quiet corner of your mind where it couldn’t reach you now.

Instead, you let yourself get lost in him, in the way his hands knew every inch of you, how his touch left you dizzy, breathless, like you were the only thing that mattered in his world. Every whispered word, every gentle kiss pressed to your skin, they all felt like a spell you couldn’t break. And for that one perfect night, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, he was telling the truth.

Afterward, as you lay tangled together in the sheets, your body pressed close to his, his arm wrapped around you, it was almost easy to forget. To ignore the hollow ache in your chest and pretend that this time, he wouldn’t slip away with the sunrise. And so, for those last quiet hours before dawn, you let yourself exist in that fragile, fleeting moment, letting go of everything but him.

The soft sound of Tyler stirring pulled you from the haze of sleep. You opened your eyes to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, already reaching for his clothes. The early morning light filtered through the window, casting a soft glow over his figure as he moved quietly, carefully separating your clothes from his in the pile by the bed. For a moment, you wanted to reach out, to pull him back, to press your face into his shoulder and beg him to stay. But something in you had finally had enough.

He noticed you were awake, glancing over his shoulder with a soft smile that you’d once let yourself believe was meant just for you. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand brushing over your shoulder. 

“Go back to sleep,” he murmured. “You need the rest.”

But you couldn’t—not anymore. Watching him move through the room, watching him get ready to leave again as if it were just another morning, you felt something inside you finally shift, that last fragile bit of hope you’d clung to finally snapping.

Sitting up, you took a steadying breath. “Tyler,” you said, your voice quiet but steady. He looked over, a hint of surprise in his eyes at your tone. You struggled to keep your voice even, the words tangled in your throat. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep waiting for someone who always leaves when things start to feel... real.”

He stilled, the easy expression on his face fading as the weight of your words sank in. You saw the conflict in his eyes, the same struggle you’d seen a dozen times before, but this time you weren’t going to let it end with an unspoken understanding. You were done with the quiet promises, the hope that somehow, one day, he might change.

“Stay,” you whispered, feeling the tears prick at your eyes. “Just... stay. I’m not asking you to give up chasing. I just want you to come home—to make this your home. To choose me.”

He looked at you, something like regret flickering in his gaze, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words you wanted. 

Instead, he let out a shaky breath and looked down, and when he looked back up, all he managed was, “I’m sorry.” And you knew, in those two words, he’d already made his choice.

As he turned and started for the door, you found yourself following him, your steps echoing in the silence of the house as you trailed him through the hallway, the kitchen, the living room—all the way out onto the porch. You watched as he opened the truck door, throwing his bag into the backseat like he had a hundred times before.

“Don’t come back,” you said, the words escaping before you could stop them. Your voice wavered but held firm, steady with a finality that startled even you. 

He froze, his hand on the truck door, then turned to look at you. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—shock, maybe even hurt—as he crossed the driveway and came back up the steps, stopping just a few feet away.

“You don’t mean that, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and careful, as if he could talk you back from the edge. “You’re upset, I get that, but... you don’t mean it.”

But you shook your head. “I do, Tyler. I can’t keep doing this. If you’re not choosing me, then... then don’t come back.”

He held your gaze, searching for something, as if hoping to see the softness he’d come to rely on. But when he only saw your resolve, he let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly. 

“I’ll call you later,” he murmured. “We’ll talk.”

And just like that, he’d told you everything you needed to know. You didn’t need a call. You didn’t need another apology. You’d waited long enough.

You stood on the porch, watching as he climbed back into his truck. He didn’t look back as he drove down the driveway, the morning sun casting his truck in a halo of light as he disappeared into the Kansas countryside. You watched until he was just a speck on the horizon, your heart breaking and mending all at once with the realization that this was truly goodbye.

You’d loved him with everything you had, but you knew now that you couldn’t keep waiting for him to choose you. And when the phone finally rang, you knew you wouldn’t pick it up. Not this time. Not ever again. Because the next time he came back, you’d be moved on, ready to start again without him.

[fillinforlater]

SULLied MINd

Male Reader x Kim Minju, Seol Yonna (Sullyoon)

Length: 10.228 words

Tags: art-project all nighter turns threesome, secret crushes, softly making out, stripping, striptease, shy to bold, double blowjob, worshiping cock and balls, cunnilingus, fingering, clit play, facial, cumsluts, virginity taken, missionary, sweat, stocking kink, riding, rimming, stand and carry, cum drinking, lots of perverted thoughts, lucky!you

TW: I barely finished this in time, so the editing is not that in depth lol

Inspiration: Minju and Sullyoon just go together very well, dunno if @sinswithpleasure was the first to give this idea, but the pairing definitely comes from The Bunker... the rest is my own craziness

(A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FAVORITE GIRL! Happy Minju day to everyone, I hope you enjoy this fic which was supposed to be like around 4-5k...)

“No, you gotta put it in here, not in there!”

“I-I can’t, my hand is too big for the hole.”

“Then try using your fingers, that should work.”

“Eh, okay, but you need to hold onto the legs, otherwise it’ll fall over.”

“Let me get in between the—ah, Minju, watch out! Now my hand is all white.”

“Oops, Sorry.”

The struggle behind you is real, the struggle in front of you—the unfinished essay due tomorrow that is—is real too, but those spoken words cannot be real. You know exactly what Minju and Sullyoon are referring to when talking about white stuff and holes and size. After all, they are working hard to wrap up the project all of you have procrastinated on for so long and it’s bound to be a mess.

You start to trip over your own unspoken words. The lewdness in your mind is unfathomable, a mess can be a mess without mess being the wild, chaotic, imaginary sex that seems to creep into your brain more and more.

No, focus. It’s just a mess because Sullyoon and Minju still don’t know how to put together the human-sized post-modern sculpture of a robot made from cardboard, newspapers and glue—white glue, that drips from Sullyoon’s hand as she tries to shove a painted cardboard cylinder into—

You did it again. Your thoughts are betraying you.

“What are you looking at?” Sullyoon nags, when she spots your dreamy gaze on her hand. Wait, are you drooling? What the fuck is happening?

“N-nothing, nothing,” you quickly turn around and look at the pathetic pile of words that neither make sense nor reach the required minimum amount to pass. “It’s just that—you two are too loud, I can’t concentrate.”

Minju throws you a concerned look, while Sullyoon aggressively wipes her hands on a paper towel and hits you over the head with a piece of cardboard. Now there’s some stickiness in your hair

“Oh yeah? You’re still the furthest behind—I’ll do the writing, I can’t build for shit—that’s what you said and you are still not finished.”

“Sully, please, don’t scream,” Minju groans and gets on her knees in between the sculptures legs, her head on level with what could be its crotch. “Let’s just focus, okay? Can you give me the, uhm, white stuff? I need to fix the butt.”

And now Minju is spreading glue all over the—it’s better you look away and focus on the task ahead. The essay should go over all the different periods of, uhm. Or maybe the various stages during, some-thing? Perhaps the teacher wants a concise summary of how you came up with the idea and created the illusion of Sullyoon sticking her fingers in Minju’s pussy and making her face contort into—

“You’re drooling!” Sullyoon shouts and hits you again.

“Sully, please!” Minju tries to calm the situation down.

“What? Can I not be angry that this lazy ass is just daydreaming—”

“Sully, language! And stop screaming!”

“You’re both screaming and shouting, how should I concentrate?”

“You—”

Sullyoon is about to throw hands. Though they both might give off a similar reserved, kind, beauty vibe to the unsuspecting outsider, Sullyoon and Minju are quite different. It shows now more than ever, when Sullyoon slams her fist on the desk next to you and stares you down into the chair, while Minju sits on her bed, one leg crossed over the other, head lowered in defeat and annoyance.

“Stand up,” Sullyoon orders, her grip on your biceps harsh, as if she tried to scar you with her nails. “I’ll do it, save the project while you can fuck off.”

“The fuck?” you shout back, face angry. Sullyoon’s hand is slapped away and you’re about to fight more if she doesn’t back off. “You won’t do anything, and don’t curse at me. Who do you think you are?”

“Guys—”

“Oh my God, you’re unbelievable!” Sullyoon interrupts Minju and opens her adorable eyes wide in rage. “You’re gonna fail us with that—pathetic excuse of a text.”

“It would be better if you could keep your mouth shut, Sullyoon, and let me finish this in peace. Also, the robot is still not upright. If he falls over, Miss Kwon will rip our heads off.” You can barely hold yourself together. The only positive thoughts for Sullyoon, if you can call them that, are the lewd ones, those imagining her naked, her navel exposed, her pussy bare.

“Guys, I—!”

“Oh and that’s my fault? I bet your drool will make it unstable. I swear if you turn around one more time—”

“Then what? You’ll beat me, assault me? I think Miss Kwon won’t give you a better grade then—”

An ear-shattering boom. The door is shut, the door to Minju’s room—Minju, who is not with you anymore. For such a kind and bubbly girl, this fight must have killed her. She was the one suggesting that you all do the project at her place, with her parents out of town. She made cookies beforehand and had something planned for dinner too.

“I-I think we overdid it,” Sullyoon sums it up with an usually soft whisper and you nod in shame. Minju has been nothing short of an excellent host for the two of you.

Suddenly, Sullyoon’s phone rings. She doesn’t get time to answer it however, as the caller seems to end the call within a moment's notice.

“I’ll be out, gimme a second,” Sullyoon says and runs to the door.

“Sure.” She didn’t even hear that, that’s how quiet your voice was. Outside, you hear Sullyoon hurrying down the stairs. There is turmoil in your head about what you ought to do. Should you just sit here and wait for them to come back? Is it better if you go downstairs as well, apologize to Minju, so the three of you can continue with the project? Should you continue alone, perhaps?

You decide on option four: sneak towards the door, carefully open it and then lay low while trying to pick up what they are talking about. They surely aren’t fighting anymore, but their voices are loud enough for you to clearly hear every word.

“It was stupid of me, okay? Can we go back upstairs and finish our sculpture?” Sullyoon asks with loving care.

“I-I don’t know if I can,” Minju sniffles. “This was embarrassing.”

“What do you mean? You weren’t embarrassing, we were. This fight was—”

“No, you don’t get it, Sully!”

Now things seem to get heated. You can hear Minju jumping up from a chair, while Sullyoon gasps.

“Then explain it to me, Minju!”

“Okay, screw it.

“I like him, okay? Two years, I have waited two years for us to finally be in a project—and now you two are fighting! You are ruining my chances with him!”

The silence is deafening. If you weren’t lying prone on the floor already, your knees would have collapsed and you would’ve landed in the same spot anyways. What a revelation! For the first time in your life, you believe that either your ears are deceiving you or that you’re in the most lucid dream imaginable. Never before has a girl had feelings for you—

“This can’t be real,” Sullyoon suddenly laughs out loud. “You like this guy?”

“Wha-what do you mean?” Minju hisses back, whiny, like she’s about to cry. “He is very-very handsome a-and I’ve seen his abs. He is also smart, have you heard him talk about history? It’s so attractive.”

“Yeah, of course I have, he is like talking non-stop in history class.” Sullyoon’s tone has shifted from shocked and dismissive to a bit dreamy, almost like she is admiring you. “And the way he pronounces all these foreign words, or how he gives it his all in PE—”

“Wait a minute,” Minju interjects and you can hear the grin as it forms on her face. “You like him too, Sully!”

“Not anymore, not after his lazy ass didn’t do a damn thing during our project.” Another second of silence, then both of them start laughing hysterically, one is stomping on the floor, the other tries to cover her mouth to muffle the loudness.

You’ve heard enough. No, seriously. At this point, you could die happily. Two of the prettiest girls in the entire school like you and both of them are in your project group which will surely last until the next morning at your current pace. What else could you want more? Countless guys would kill to have such an opportunity.

But you want more.

“Crazy, we have the same crush. Oh, have you seen the pictures of his abs?” Minju asks excitedly after the two have finished their laughing fit.

“No, but I was about to ask: how did you get those?” Sullyoon gasps again and then giggles while both start to whisper. The whispers are too quiet, you can barely pick up any syllables. This marks the perfect moment to get back in front of the PC so they won’t catch you eavesdropping when they come back up. It also gives you time to think about what you want to do.

The image of them and their crush on you hasn’t fully settled yet, however, you’re already planning how this night might continue, what might happen, what you should say. Unlike during exams, you don’t feel pressure or tension that’s about to crush you—there is just excitement and a feeling of being loved.

“Hey, we-we are back,” Minju says a few minutes later, her face all red when she enters her room. Sullyoon follows after her, her hair a bit messier than before. Unlike Minju, she is able to hide her feelings for you quite well, now that you know.

“Hey,” you respond with a soft voice. “Look, Minju, I’m so sorry about earlier. I should’ve done my job. I won’t let you guys down this time, I promise. Sullyoon, if you want to, you can write the text. Sorry that I was so rude earlier.”

“I-it’s fine.” Both their voices seem to break when you stand up and give each an apologetic bow. With your new knowledge, you assume that this is a good sign, like selecting the correct dialogue option in a video game.

“Are you sure you want to switch, though?” Sullyoon asks and you nod.

“It’s settled then.” Minju grabs a wrist from you and a wrist from Sullyoon and has this adorable, bright smile on her beaming face. “Let’s not fight anymore and finish this dang project!”

“You are absolutely right, Minju!” you gleefully say. “You two are pretty awesome, so I’ll give it my all.”

Both their breaths pick up in pace; who would have thought that you could make the hearts of girls flutter with just a bright, sunshine smile. Sullyoon and Minju quickly dive back into work, ears still red, and you pretend to be completely unaware. Unaware of their feelings, unaware of their hopes, unaware of their—potentially sullied thoughts.

But could those two angelic looking girls really have the same impurities in their minds as you do? Can it match your fantasies of one of them admitting their love to you tonight, you kissing, cuddling and fucking secretly in the bathroom, while the other continues to work on the project? Maybe they have similar thought, but did they ever consider—

“Can you, uhm, hand me the, eh—” Minju stutters and taps her temple in thought. She looks adorable doing so.

“Do you need the model? Some cardboard? Scissors?” you ask back but Minju shakes her head, a bit abashed that she lacks the focus to say which item she needs. Thinking of scissors, your fantasy does not stop at some one-on–one lovemaking. You’d want the other to join, all three of your tongues in a make out session while your hand is in the back of their panties. You want to fondle their butts and hear them moan before they would scissor, their wet pussies rubbing up and down your manhood until you explode.

“I need the… white stuff.”

“You need the white stuff—from me?”

A quiet whisper, Sullyoon could not have picked it up. Minju halts for a second, then her face turns beet red and she hides it behind her palms, while her eyes keep looking at your awfully-well played innocent expression. Worriedly, you reach for her face and Minju gasps. What does she expect? Certainly not what follows.

“Oh, there is some glue in your hair, Minju. Guess we should wash out the white stuff~”

With that said, you grab her hand and pull her out of her bedroom. To the surprise of Sullyoon, whose questions go unheard, you and Minju enter the upper floor bathroom. There you immediately find a wet towel and start to rub Minju’s hair, and with every second that you dishevel her hair, you also seem to dishevel her mind.

Minju is perplexed, trembling, unable to react to you, especially when you inch closer and really focus on that annoying spot. The two of you forgot to turn on the bathroom lights, so there is only the dim moonlight to reveal to you the absolute dream that are Minju’s eyes: full of love, uncertainty and want.

“I think I got it out,” you finally whisper and drop the towel. “Sorry for messing up your hair.”

Minju smiles softly: “N-no, thank you. You might have saved it, a-actually.”

“Minju—” A moment of silence, full of purpose, of tension, but you bask in it. You can hear Minju’s heart racing and if you’re honest, the muscle in your chest is pumping like crazy as well. “You, you are very beautiful, one of the prettiest girls on this planet.”

“Re-really!?”

“Yes. I wish I could

“Kiss your lips; they look so soft.”

They are so soft, no doubt about it, especially when they accept you so willingly at first and then won’t let go when you try to pull back a little. Minju is on cloud nine and she wants to stay. Her adorable hands hold onto your sleeves, while you hold the back of her head securely in the palm of your hand. There is no tongue movement, there is no tongue movement needed, because it all comes together for her—

A fairy tale moment, out of nowhere, for the girl with her crush.

But your play isn’t over. After a short while, you regretfully remove yourself from her lips and continue to hold her close, hand on the small of her back. When you look down you are greeted by a look—this look of mesmerized love, with teary eyes of joy and panting lips of desire on Minju’s flawless features. How could you want more?

This is how mankind moves forward: by wanting what they don’t yet have.

“Minju,” you take a deep breath and close your eyes. “I—before we continue, and I really do want to—I have to tell you something.”

“Y-yes?”

“I like you, I really, really like you.

“But you know how multiple people can have the same crush? I, my heart, has this issue that—I, I like multiple people! I can never escape it, there is nothing I can do. That doesn’t mean that my love isn’t real—I just want to be honest with you.”

Minju, in the midst of all these surprises and twists and turns for her, looks surprisingly calm and nods carelessly. Of course she is a bit dazed, after all, your lips were just on hers and she can take them back just by getting on her toes, but this should still be a bit weird for her. At least, that is what you assumed.

“I-I don’t care,” she suddenly blurts out and her arms wrap around you tightly. “Why should I judge you? There are probably so many pretty girls out there. I-I’m just happy that you… noticed me.”

“Are you for real?” In a sudden surge of happiness, you lift Minju up and spin her around. “You are so wonderful, I know why I fell in love with you.”

This should wrap up your Oscar performance—well, it’s already beyond that. At this point the feelings for Minju feel more than just acted. How could they not? She is gorgeous, light, her lips are tender, her character adorable and you cannot escape what your heart is telling you: love her, because she loves you.

There is however still—

“Pl-please! Please love me too!”

A loud scream, and Sullyoon bursts into the room. You may not be able to see the correct colors of her face, but you know she is either pale because Minju ‘stole’ you from her or she is red all over because she thinks there is a chance, a tiny chance that you also like her. Nonetheless, all these thoughts become irrelevant, because Minju almost collapses from shock. You catch her before she is able to hit her head on the sink.

The bathroom door still rattles, but the three of you just stare at one another, eyes wide open. The situation is so absurd, you must be dreaming, dead or in heaven—all at the same time, Minju’s entire existence is in your arms and Sullyoon seems willing to join her. She is close, her hands folded as if she is begging for your love. Her breath is hot, right in your face and so unsteady.

“Sullyoon.” Minju’s voice is faint, not even a whisper, but it’s loud. It’s both a statement and a question, a question directed at you. Is this what you were talking about earlier? Could it really be that the two who have a crush on you, would not have to fight? To put it very simply: Do you love Sullyoon too?

At least tonight, you do.

“I—

“I do, actually.” Those few words have you out of breath, before you can continue, Sullyoon has taken a spot in your arms next to Minju. The speed with which your dreams come true is mind boggling, but you play it cool and hold both of them close, an arm around each of their waists.

“You mean it?” Sullyoon has never sounded this cute, not in class, not during breaks and definitely not tonight. Who can resist her with those pouty lips that adorn silky smooth, perfectly symmetrical features? “You really like me?”

“Yes, I do, I like you both. This, this has to be a dream.”

“What, uhm,” Minju stutters and looks at you, similar expression to Sullyoon, her eyes also beaming, her chin tilted towards you—their similarities become uncanny in this dimly lit bathroom. “What are we going to do now?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper and smile.

“We still have a project to finish,” Sullyoon sighs and puts her head against your chest, which does not make for a good pillow with its constant up and down movement and Minju right next to her.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I think we should finish it. Let’s focus and then maybe our thoughts are a bit more… sorted.” Both girls nod, but it takes some more convincing before they let you go. The fear that they could lose you to the other makes them stay a bit longer until you have to push through them. It’s a playful struggle, which is only resolved when the three of you go back to Minju’s room.

All is quiet for a good, productive thirty minutes. The cardboard sculpture is finally painted and read to dry, the text only needs a few more tweaks, the project is in its final stage. All you can think about, however, are your groupmates, especially when your sight drifts away from the task ahead to their faces, their hands, their hips.

“Minju, can you help me?” Sullyoon groans. “I need to finish, this bottom part is so hard!”

“Of course, let me just—put this here and this into that—do you think it fits now?”

“It still looks too big, don’t you think? Maybe we should stretch it—”

“Or we could share it? I think if we both do it, it will be better.”

Hit yourself on your forehead, because the brain behind it once again can only think of the lewd. Minju and Sullyoon are trying their best to format this text and split it into fair portions for the presentation—yet all you think about is how they admire your big cock, share it in between their parted lips and then, Minju helps Sullyoon to go down on it with her throat.

After you are all covered in her spit, Sullyoon would grab your base and put it on Minju’s folds, ease you into her and all kinds of moans would fill the room and alert all neighbors who are still awake.

“I think this is good,” Minju ultimately concludes and turns to you. “Do you want to take a look too?”

You shake your head. “Uhm, no, I’m sure it’s excellent. Wow, looks like we really finished it.”

“Okay, so.” Sullyoon spins around in her chair, hands hidden in between her thighs and everything vibrates. “Are we going to talk now about… our situation?”

“I think we are all adults, we can talk about it.” Minju fidgets a bit and looks at you. They are both waiting for you to say something, but you just smirk without a worry in the world and lay down on Minju’s bed.

“Sure, we can talk. Let’s be honest, be free. Don’t care what the rest things, just

“Tell me what you feel.”

Sullyoon pushes the chair closer to you with her feet and Minju sits down on her bed, less bold than Sullyoon, because her eyes are fixed on the other end of the mattress. You get her attention when you fingers lock with hers, but the first to speak up is Sullyoon.

“I think I have a crush on you. Two years ago it started and I can’t explain why, but—you grew very handsome during that time a-and you’re pretty smart, so—”

“I feel the same!” Minju suddenly shouts and her fingers squeeze yours tightly. “And sorry, I-I once took a picture of your, uhm, abs when you changed your shirt. It was stupid, I’ll delete it right now—”

You laugh and pull Minju on top of you. Now her gaze cannot escape yours anymore and she has to see the true awe in your eyes. A natural awe for her beauty, her kindness and the way her honesty reveals all those secret feelings.

“Delete them if you like,” you hum and place the palm of Minju’s hand on your abdomen while flexing your muscles. “But you can take some more high quality pictures, if you want to.”

Jealousy overtakes a formerly hesitant Sullyoon and she pounces onto the bed next to you. Her hands are still hidden in between her thighs, but you can see that she wants to touch what Minju is already groping.

Sullyoon doesn’t even have to ask. You grab her wrist and slowly guide it under your sweatshirt. Though she tries to act shocked and abashed, you can feel her digits roaming all over your abs greedily as she visibly drools. Minju had most of your attention until now. Now it’s Sullyoon’s turn to feel your love in the form of a wet kiss pressed right onto her already wet lips. Unlike Minju, she tries to go all in on the first go, but you quickly pull away with a chuckle and watch her eager tongue searching for your mouth.

“Sully, open your eyes,” you softly laugh at her and drag a finger over her flushed, tender cheek as she does so. “Don’t be scared, I’m not going anywhere. If you are okay with it, I can love you both with all my heart.”

“I want to share you,” she says with determination and immediately contradicts her statement by lunging at you and starting a torrential kiss that has Minju hiding her face behind her long, cascading hair. It’s all faux, because in the meantime, she has rolled up your sweatshirt to your chest. Gently she pokes your pecs and you giggle into the kiss with Sullyoon.

“Good to know we are all on the same page,” you finally voice your own feelings when Sullyoon backs off to catch her breath. “I think I could cuddle you both for the rest of the night and forget every worry, every task, every stupid responsibility ahead of us.”

Funny how your dreams come true, again. An arm around each of their waists, you pull Minju and Sullyoon deeper into the softness of pillows and blankets generously spread on Minju’s mattress. Both your cheeks are quickly peppered with kisses, cute, hesitant ones from Minju, from chin to ear and wild, playful ones from Sullyoon, from the edge of your collarbone to your lips. She seals them again and this time you can hear Minju become jealous with a loud huff.

This back and forth of envy, you see no way to disrupt it anytime soon. Come to think of it, maybe you don’t want to. This dynamic pushes them further to reveal more of their love, so give them what they want. You are theirs to love and play with—but you will play with them too.

“Minju,” you say, your voice purposefully low and more serious than before. “You have such amazing hips. They are wide and look so perfect on you.”

You turn towards her and reach for the top of her skirt. Insert a couple fingers into it and let them glide along the waistband until you reach the outermost point of her hips. Minju tenses up when you begin to grab her hips, the skin of your palms right on her underwear, slipped into her skirt. You pull her even closer and she is back to holding onto your sleeves.

“Such nice hips.” Rub them, and Minju starts to rub herself on you, face on your bare chest and crotch on your thigh. Speaking of thighs, Sullyoon might have felt neglected for a second, so you find her mouth with ease and bully her tongue with yours while putting a hand on her inner thigh. Sullyoon shrieks the more you touch her jeans-clad legs, no matter if you go down to where her calves begin or if you go up to where her pussy is aching.

“Wow, Sully, your legs, your thighs are fantastic. I bet they are very soft.”

“T-touch them more, please,” Sullyoon softly whimpers and you nod. Minju is too enamored with her own thighs around yours, she does not realize her friend popping open her jeans and sliding them down. Your hesitation, your careful planning gets thrown out of the window when you slide your hand over her soft skin and go to bite her lips.

“They are the softest, damn, I could knead them all day long.” Your hot breath mixes with Sullyoon when you go from some basic thigh stimulation to cupping her sex and pressing your palm on her covered clit. “Your panties are cute too~”

No time to focus on Sullyoon’s embarrassed face, because Minju’s takes your entire view. You try to kiss her mouth but she backs off, even climbs off the bed and stands next to it. Both her hands firmly grasps the hem of her skirt, her knuckles turn white—that’s how hard she grabs it while her voice sounds absolutely love drunk:

“I-I have cute panties too,” she complains and lifts her skirt up, higher than you thought she would dare to. Not only you, her crush, that can see this most private part, but her friend can as well. Your eyes are glued to the small, pink garment with its tiny wet spot at the front, very cute indeed, maybe even cuter than Sullyoon’s baby blue panties which at this point become ruined on your hand.

“They are really cute, Minju.” You smile, she cracks a small smile. “I did not know you two had such lewd minds and wild fantasies.”

“Can we see y-your underwear now?” Sullyoon avoids your statement with a pout while simultaneously confirming it. Minju joins her nods, skirt still held high, her panties just a bit wetter at the thought of you. “Yes, please, we-we want to see it, it’s only fair!”

“Hm, how about a deal then, my two lewd girlfriends: I’m all yours, you can undress me and play with me until you are satisfied, but first you give me a show. I want you two undressing each other slowly. Sounds like a deal?”

At this point, everything is so out of control, you might as well ask for a favor that usually would get you kicked out. After all, this isn’t porn, not every girl is into girls and into threesomes, but Minju and Sullyoon have shown to be so needy for you, their libido will take over all reasoning. To no surprise, both only hesitate for a second.

“I’m okay with that,” Sullyoon whispers. “You too, Minju?” She leaves the spot in your arm and walks behind her friend. “Are you okay with me touching you?”

“S-sure.” They both get into it quickly. Minju drops her arms and lets them dangle while her needy face is directed at you. Sullyoon makes sure you can see her fingers play with the waistband of Minju’s skirt, just like you did, and she teases you by only pulling down one side, then the other. It’s only when you groan in disapproval that she moves upwards and pulls Minju’s sweatshirt over her head.

You totally expected a bra behind this comfy, cotton barrier, but no: Minju is wearing a white shirt underneath and the tease just continues. Sullyoon finds the lowest button first and works her way up, sending chills down Minju’s spine.

An amazing midriff, toned abs around a cute little navel; you can’t help but ogle when Sullyoon presses her fingers into them and gasps in surprise. No words need to be spoken—that’s probably how Minju likes it more as well. She struggles to relax, especially when the final button pops and her shirt opens like curtains to reveal her bra, the same color as her panties, erect nipples visible through the thin garment.

“May I?” Sullyoon asks, basically blowing the question into Minju’s ear as her hands already fiddle with the clasp of the bra. The sound of silence is nothing but hot breaths and the faint creaking of Minju’s bed as you adjust yourself to get closer with her still-covered breasts.

Still covered.

Still covered.

“O-okay,” Minju whispers, whines, it doesn’t matter, you finally get to see her upper body in all its glory, and you find glory to be an understatement: her breasts are perfectly symmetrical, not saggy but quite perky and a bit smaller than your hands. You could cover them up and knead them without much effort; it takes effort however to not look absolutely overwhelmed as your dreamy eyes focus on erect nipples and round arolae.

“What do you think?” Sullyoon asks the question with an answer that is obvious but hard to put into words.

“Minju, your body looks…

“... very, very hot. I-I’ve never seen something so flawless.”

“And you haven’t even seen what’s behind this~” Sullyoon’s voice is sultry as she taps Minju’s skirt. She once again teases you, her smooth hand under the skirt and once you hear Minju shriek, you know what she is about to do.

Sullyoon removes those stained panties, while Minju still wears her skirt. The miniscule petite underwear wraps around her ankles while her dainty digits wrap around the hem of her skirt. At this point, your drool cannot be held back. You need to see her most private place.

“Let, let me do it!” Minju says with confidence and as if she’s as impatient as you are, pulls the skirt up and shuts her eyes. Sullyoon chuckles lightly and gets a hold of Minju’s hips, while you are about to dive into those wet folds, small and pink and definitely untouched. You notice a small strip of hair above her clit which looks like it should twitch at any moment. Minju’s visible arousal becomes your visible arousal and before you can end the teasing session and start a new session, Sullyoon interrupts you:

“Shouldn’t Minju undress me now?”

“Wha—oh… yeah, sure,” you respond and hold your horny horses. Minju looks a bit dazed when she drops the skirt and opens her eyes again. You help her gain focus by reaching for her hands and holding them. “Nothing to be ashamed of, Minju, you are perfect down there as well.”

“Re-really?”

“Yes, I’d never lie to the girls I love.

“Now, why don’t you help Sullyoon get out of those… tight jeans?”

Sullyoon smirks. Without you noticing it, she pulled her pants back up and made sure that they showed the outline of her shapely butt. She is a tease like no one before or after; fortunately, Minju seems to not get what teasing is about: with you still right beside her, she puts all her strength at pulling the denim down—the denim and Sullyoon’s panties.

“Eh, what are you—Minju!” Sullyoon complains loudly.

“So-sorry, did I do it wrong?”

“You, you were too fast!” The shyness returns to Sullyoon’s face as she buries it in the crook of her arm.

“No reason to fight,” you ease the flames of conflict burning before you. “I think Minju did a great job and your butt is great, Sullyoon.”

“No, don’t say that, it’s too big!”

“I’m gonna say it again.” You emphasize your words with a good squeeze on both her cheeks while Minju’s wide eyes are on the dumpy before her. “You have a fantastic butt, not too big, definitely not too small, perfect.”

Your kneading hands leave Sullyoon a mewling mess, speechless, even as Minju goes and undresses her further. It’s all a lot quicker, the top is removed easily, the bra falls with a simple click and Sullyoon is the first to be fully nude. She stops your continued handsy attacks on her ass with a spin around. Unlike Minju, her pussy is freshly shaven and her entire body looks like it was made just for this moment.

“Someone is prepared,” you say with a smile and drag a finger up her midriff to her tits which are nice handfuls of their own, similar in size and shape to Minju’s.

“You are mean,” Sullyoon pouts and suddenly starts to embrace you. You gasp. Her body is almost scorching hot. “I waited so long for this.”

“I bet you couldn’t look better. No dream, no imagination can make your body look any sexier.”

“Thank you, I’m glad you like it.”

The sound of someone crawling onto the bed gets your attention. Minju lays next to you, her skirt finally kicked away and she stretches her arms forward in search of your embrace. That poor girl is desperate, however, you don't make it to her before Sullyoon unzips your pants.

“It’s only fair if we get to see you too, right, Minju?” Sullyoon asks, her tone making it clear that the answer cannot differ from her needs.

“Should I strip for you too?” you say with a witty smile, but Minju comes to Sullyoon’s aid.

“Enough teases, I—I can barely think!”

The striptease must have set something in motion within Minju: her shyness is only apparent on her fully red cheeks, her hands have already taken a different path. Boldly, they yank down both your pants and briefs in strong pulls, past your erection, which comes back swinging at her. Minju dodges it, because she can’t stop looking at Sullyoon behind you, arms resting on your shoulder, lips suckling at your neck.

“So big!” Minju can’t hold back her shock and awe at the shape, the bend, the size.

“Yeah,” Sullyoon dreamily adds. “We really have to share him from now on.”

Things are out of control. Every further plan of slowly getting to your dream threesome scenario are useless, laughable, when both your new lovers shove you down into the mattress and somehow find space on and in between your legs to intently stare at and past your phallus. Minju and Sullyoon are often not on the same page, sometimes polar opposites in class, but tonight they are more than united.

While Minju is in awe at how you throb and seemingly still grow into the air, Sullyoon eagerly spits into her hand and slowly spreads her saliva on your shaft. The thoughtfulness, carefulness and softness of her fingers make every pump of hers fade into absurdity. Right from the get go, Sullyoon’s handjob is already on the level of jerking yourself off.

“Have you ever done this, Minju?”

“N-no, never. Not even close.”

“I—only have with not real dicks.” The two blush, but there is no need to intervene. Unlike in most classes, they are eager to study for themselves, learn new tricks and test them on you.

“How about you start down at his… sac, while I go from the top?” Sullyoon suggests and Minju nods. However, you still see hesitance in her eyes, probably because she is afraid of screwing things up or making it awkward.

“They are full for you, Minju,” you softly coo and brush her hair as she almost puts her lips on them. Okay, maybe she needs the tiniest of pushing to finally— “Put your lips on them, give them a kiss. Nothing to be afraid of.”

Sullyoon is definitely not afraid. She wraps her mouth around your cockhead and begins to twirl her tongue around it. The taste of your precum must have urged her on, because she hums happily and sucks loudly. It’s like your cock is the straw in her favorite drink, that's how aggressively she sucks and her eyes roll into the back of her head. Meanwhile Minju sneakily tries to find the best spot to wrap her lips around your crown jewels, her adorable expression unpurified when she decides to go for it.

“Oh fuck!” you groan and your body arches involuntarily. More of your manhood is pressed onto their faces, into their eagerly drooling holes; it makes you wonder if you even need their pussies if this already feels so heavenly. The eagerness and playfulness of Sullyoon paired with the gentleness and sweetness of Minju makes for a double blowjob that could drain you embarrassingly fast.

Something inside your stomach tells you to just release it. Let them suck, let them play, until you just release it all over them without worry in deep bliss. Before that happens, you have to get back at them. It would be quite the disappointing night if this was your only load and they wouldn’t have any stimulation until then. You have to come up with a plan, while Sullyoon pops you from her mouth with a deep moan.

“Minju, let’s switch,” she suggests. “He tastes really good, you have to try it. Don’t worry about the size, I couldn’t take it either.”

“Oh, okay, his, his balls are quite hard. Does this mean they are full?”

“Fuck, yes,” you interrupt their horny conversation, ready to announce your plan. A plan that will surely distract you and them to the point all of you will have the best of fun. “After you’ve switched, how about you turn your butts towards me? You’re doing a fantastic job, I want to return the favor.”

They lock eyes, then look at you and nod. Sullyoon has this grin on her lips, as if she can’t wait for your fingers and tongue on her labia. Minju, again, might look quite abashed, but she is quicker than Sullyoon when it comes to showing you her behind. The sight of her bare ass, tiny pink pussy and thighs spilling out of black stockings has you drooling, almost neglecting Sullyoon’s equally remarkable offer.

Sadly, you only have one tongue and so you dive into Minju’s cunt first. In what has to be the most mind-melting moment in her life, the beautiful girl sucks in your addictive taste while for the first time, someone touches her virgin sex. Minju moans around your length while you lick all the way from her clit to her asshole in long quick swipes. You watch her body tremble and decide to put an arm around it so she doesn’t sway away from your mouth, which digs into her sensitive folds.

Speaking of sensitive folds, your other hand has found more of those. Sullyoon’s innie, beautifully smooth, spills wetness forth and guides you to the well-lubricated entrance. You don’t even have to see anything to slip your middle finger inside her. Sullyoon gasps and nuzzles her soft cheek against your balls, while a little bit higher, Minju has lost all shame.

“Yummy, yummy,” she babbles every half second when your cock leaves her mouth. The two of you seem to share the same thought: These perverted fluids are delicious, I better get as much as I can.

In your mutual delight, Sullyoon momentarily rips you out of it, just to make things even better. She bunches up Minju’s hair in a hand and starts to put her lips on Minju’s. Their tongues battle, luckily your tip is there to separate them, though it does not want peace: it wants all out war.

For this brilliant idea, you decide to switch and bury your face in Sullyoon’s ass then quickly move to her cunt and pierce it open with your wet muscle, the same muscle Minju’s twitching hole misses. She has to finish on your hand, so you decide to twirl her exposed clit in between your fingers.

The greatest trio in the world's most renowned orchestra could not compare to the harmonies your different moans produce. They are unfiltered, not played for a camera, not exaggerated—but still so loud, booming, climactic, when Sullyoon shutters. Her juices gush into your mouth, more when she leans back and presses her pussy on your face.

Minju follows quickly, almost sitting on and riding your hand as it lays there, fingers tapping upwards, against her nub. Her orgasm is not as wet, but you feel the bed shake when she cums and seemingly goes to another reality. You’re glad she physically stays, her tongue still eager at your slit—and Sullyoon is on the other side, making out with her and your cockhead.

You're incredibly hard, an iron-like rod, a tip that is purple and sensitive yet absolutely numb and only begging for what might as well be the best and final release. The thought of this ever happening again does not cross your mind, a void of nothing but pleasure. You have to give it your all now and so you buckle upwards in between their sandwiching lips and explode without warning.

“Fuuuck,” Sullyoon groans. Minju yelps, a high pitch as she still rides out her own orgasm on your palm. Your first is bombastic, a shot up in the air that rains down on their faces while the rest is equally distributed on their tender cheeks, silky lips, hot tongues. No need to mention that a lot ends up in places where the clean up will be more annoying: hair, bedsheets, even clothes have stains of white on them.

Who cares, really? Not Minju, who still laps up what leaks out of your aching, overstimulated cock. Not Sullyoon, who is out of breath and uses your thigh as a pillow. Certainly not you who literally passed out for a second and only returns because Minju sucks too strongly.

“Ouch, fuck, Min-Minju it hurts—”

“You tasht sho good, I want more.”

“Then, ahhh, get it from Sullyoon’s face, I-I don’t have anything anymore.”

Minju listens and obidies, unable to remember her shy nature when she sucks on Sullyoon’s skin to get all of your spunk off of her. Sullyoon is unfazed, mewling a bit before finding your gaze. She smirks and suddenly, the tip of her index finger touches your balls.

“You're lying,” she whispers. “You have at least one more in you.”

“I-I don’t think so.” Shake your head to emphasize your words, but Sullyoon emphasizes her belief more thoroughly by pumping from your base up. Slow strokes to keep the pressure in it, she makes sure to keep her mouth a literal breath away, a hot breath that takes your breath away. Your eyelids shutter.

“Are you sure he can keep going?” Minju cutely asks, the final remnants of cum she collected from Sullyoon’s forehead on her finger which she promptly puts in her mouth and cleans thoroughly. “I could really go for another.”

“Don’t you want him to take your virginity?” Sullyoon’s question somehow has the blush return to Minju’s ears, she turns around abashed. It’s unbelievable: a second ago, she was the biggest cumslut, now she is afraid of what feels like a logical next step if it weren’t for…

“We can’t, Sully,” you say and reach for both their heads and pat them. “Not going to do it if we don’t have condoms, and maybe we should take some time? This is all a bit—”

“Crazy?” Sullyoon climbs off the bed and searches through her backpack, to the confusion of both you and Minju. It takes her a while to find what she is looking for, so you enjoy seeing her ass in the squatting position. “Is it crazy that I have these?”

She throws you a pack of condoms. You blink.

“Is it crazy that I want you to take my virginity tonight?” Sullyoon sneaks back like a predator, adorable looking, dangerously feeling up your thigh to your once again hard length. You don’t let her have her way, grab her wrists and look at Minju.

“You are crazy. Look in whose bed we are! Minju, what do—”

“I-I’m fine with it!” Minju cups her cheeks and her gaze can’t fix on either your or Sullyoon’s face. “I can give you privacy, if you want.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sullyoon laughs. “You should join us. I’d let you go first, if you want.” She licks her lips and even with her arms being held down by you, she gets her flat tummy to rub on your manhood, close to her heat which you can no longer resist.

“I’ll get some water, you… do you.” Minju’s words are hastily spoken, her sentence finished when she is already out of the door. This settles it for you. You’re going to fuck Sullyoon; her first time is yours and the way she rips open the wrapping of the first condom leaves no doubt in your mind:

This girl loves you and wants you now.

“How do you want it?” you ask and roll the thin, barely-there rubber down your cock.

“I want you to push in me, push my body into the bed, slowly at first. Be careful until I tell you to go faster. Fuck me, hug me, do it so good and hard that I forget that there was ever a time where you didn’t love me.”

“Sounds—

Let go of her wrists and Sullyoon lets her amazing body fall into the cushions. Her lewd expression shifts; nervousness, only a little, seriousness, a little more—thrill, endless amounts of thrill. The same counts for you.

“—good. Spread your legs for me, Sullyoon. Breathe and relax.”

Those wonderful legs not only spread for you, they actually wrap around you, their smoothness suddenly suffocating and now it’s you who needs to breathe. Your cock slips into her so easily, your tip parts her, enters and if it weren’t for her wince you would’ve gone hilt deep right away. Sullyoon’s eagerness momentarily comes to a halt as she realizes that you are a bit different from her toys.

“Wow,” she mumbles mindlessly. “You’re so wide and hard and warm—nothing like a… a…”

“Like a dildo?” you tease her and gradually drag your tip along her walls and then out of the blissful heat. Her legs make sure to push you back in and now she is even tighter. Sullyoon wants you to stay, you can’t leave without your permission. “Tell me when it hurts.”

“Actually—”

Her digits find your nape and pull you down to where her lips pucker.

“—I want you to hammer your cock into me now. Mold my pussy in its shape. Hold back only if I say stop.”

“Got it.” Kiss her lips. “I love you, Sully.”

Sometimes, you need to let go and let the reckless abandon of lust take over your body. Your hips become a tool for pleasure, as they gyrate, then move back and forth to bury your length deeper in Sullyoon’s cunt. Then you copy and paste their movements and repeatedly do them with your tongue as well to the point your new girlfriend desperately clings to you. It’s not only the sweat that sticks to you; her entire being keeps you glued down.

You pump, pump, pump into Sullyoon until you notice her eyes rolling back into her head whenever you hit that spot. The sweet spot that will eventually make her cum. Good thing that you already blew a load and that all your sensitivity has subsided—it gives you the power that makes you feel like a superhero, a superhuman. You will not stop at anything, you want to make her cum with just your dick and so you have to fuck harder.

“Oh God, you’re so big, so fucking big and perfect,” Sullyoon moans. As a thank you, you place a hickey somewhere on her neck. In hindsight, a bad idea. All your classmates will see it, unless she wears turtlenecks from now on. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, you’re so good.”

“Your pussy, Sully, it’s, it’s so tight. You’re choking me.”

“Spread me open more then, fuck, fuck, I want you to make me full.”

Hidden from the world, you place a hand on Sullyoon’s abdomen. Not to touch that tummy that alone can make boys fall instantly, though it feels nice to rub your fingers across it—no, your goal is further down, right above where your cock pounds into that wet cunt. Talk about wet, Sullyoon’s juices have spread everywhere, Minju will smell her friend in this room for days to come.

And talk about Minju: she has just returned, a huge bottle of water in her hand and eyes wide open. There is no shock at the sight of Sullyoon moaning and bending under the never ending attack of your hands, tongue and of course cock. Minju is more fascinated than anything else, you know she could watch for hours if only you didn’t notice her.

“Oh, hey,” you gasp in between groans, but your greeting is cut short by Sullyoon’s deafening scream.

“Minju, Minju, oh fuck, you have to try this. He is so good~

“Yes! My clit, right there! Oh my God, I’m going to cum, you make me c-cum!”

Sullyoon pulsates throughout her pussy, her arms, her fingers. Those pointy nails of hers dig painful bruises in your back while your blurry gaze tries to make out her face in haze, but all you see is the shape of her mouth being agape. She’s suddenly so quiet, except for her pussy, which tries to start your own orgasm. You won’t give it to her, not when Minju stands there, her stocking-clad thighs rubbing together, visibly stained with her nectar.

“You guys…” she whispers and watches closely as you pull out of Sullyoon and wipe away some beads of sweat that have formed on your temple. You’re not a construction worker, but your work was hard and it paid off: Sullyoon could not be closer to heaven above the clouds, no skyscraper or airplane can take her there.

“Can I have some of that?” you weakly ask and point at the water bottle. You’re quick to squeeze out a huge portion when Minju hands you the plastic container. From the corner of your eye you see Sullyoon, back from her crazy trip and you offer her some of the water. She rejects and suddenly, full of energy, jumps up and behind Minju.

“Minju, you have to try it.” Minju shrieks when Sullyoon places her hands on the hourglass body. “He feels amazing, I know you will love it.” All her fingers carelessly drift down to where Minju’s full thighs spill out of hr black thigh-highs.

“B-but didn’t he, like, fi-finish in you? He must be exhausted.” Minju’s excuse is met with a scoff from Sullyoon.

“Look at that thing.” Sullyoon points in between your legs. That’s right, you’re still solid and throbbing, aching to go for more. “He is a stud, he can go forever. He will make you cum on your first time, Minju~”

“I-I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to listen to her,” you tell Minju and take another sip from the bottle. “We can do something else if you don’t feel ready yet.”

Your words might be honest, but Minju does not get a fair chance to consider this other option. In front of her sits her crush, a guy with a big, super tasty cock. Behind her is a friend, mind controlled by lust, eager to share this big, super tasty cock. The sight of you teases her, Sullyoon’s hands on her hips, butt, crotch tease her. Can she really go for it now? Make this crazy night become nothing but madness, a story worth telling but no one will ever hear it?

“I want… you inside of me.”

“Perf—”

“I want you to cum inside of me!”

You gulp, thoughts tripping over each other. Even Sullyoon is perplexed and frozen. “R-really?” you both ask the still-virgin girl.

“No, like, in-in a condom of course! I just want to know… that my pussy felt good for you, that I can make you cum. I don’t want to get pregnant yet of course—oh God, did you think that?”

“Well…”

“Doesn’t matter!” Sullyoon suddenly laughs this chaotic misunderstanding off and pushes Minju on your lap. “Here, Minju, put a new condom on his cock. We don’t do creampies, but I totally get what you want.”

“I’m so sorry, that was a stupid thing to say,” Minju apologizes awkwardly, but you quickly forget about it when she expertly puts the rubber on your tip and has your entire phallus covered in no time. Her dainty fingers feel fantastic on your base, which she holds steady, awaiting you to do something with it. You can’t make up your mind however: should you pick her up and throw her into the sheets to fuck her like Sullyoon? Maybe spin her around and fuck her doggy, ass up, that beautiful face buried in pillows as you burry yourself inside her for the first time?

Sullyoon helps you come up with a third solution. She grabs your wrists and firmly puts them on Minju’s tiny waist and instinctively, you lift her up and over your cock. Minju looks down at your manhood and mewls, ready yet not ready to take it. Her starlit eyes, a few centimeters away, look down into yours and you swear you don’t want to hurt. You have to do everything to make this the best thing for her.

Give Minju a firm kiss on her trembling lips as both you and Sullyoon gently place her entrance on your spear. At first, she is scared, her body tensing up, but with your warmth radiating on her warm folds, she suddenly seems eager. More and more inches disappear into her and you leave her lips to hear her ultimate moan when her virginity disappears.

“Ouh, so big, so much, ahhh!”

“Does it hurt?” you ask her.

“A-a bit, but it’s fine—Sullyoon, what are you doing!? Don’t look at it!”

Sullyoon kneels between your legs. When she breathes out through her nose, your balls feel her hot and horny breath. She completely ignores Minju’s words and stares at how you leave and re-enter Minju’s pussy. “Minju, this… this is the best sight! Trust me, it feels good when he goes faster. Your pussy will feel so good.”

“This is embarrassing,” Minju mewls again, her hips firmly pushed down on your lap, almost the entirety of your cock inside her. You might not feel powerless in this position, not at all in fact, but you want this absolute beauty of a woman to do how she likes it. If she just wants to sit on you and slowly move her lower body in circles, that’s fine, if she wants to ride you with heavy thrusts, that would be to die for—

But Minju unexpectedly picks a third option. Seriously, these girls are full of surprises. She puts her hands on your shoulders while yours instinctively hover down to her hips and then she tightens around your cock again before moving up and down, up and down, up and down with perfect body control, at the same pace.

Minju rides you, fucks you, like she has done it a thousand times. You can hardly believe she never had a toy inside her. Every breath becomes more chaotic, her features disheveled, her tongue numb. It hangs out of her mouth, a perfectly ripe weak spot for you to attack. You suck on it, bully it in your mouth and Minju grabs your throat, accidentally choking you. No, no, she has to keep doing that. She has to suffocate you, with her pussy, with her fingers, with her stunning visuals as she fucks herself silly.

“Sullyoon, fuck,” you both simultaneously curse when the forgotten girl starts to lick all the way from your perineum over to your cock and Minju’s folds to Minju’s butthole, then back down, as if it were the longest, tastiest lollipop. She is not irritated by all the sweat, the lewd juices and Minju’s ass bouncing on your dick—Sullyoon laps it all up and even giggles when she hears both of you struggle with the added pleasure.

Minju gradually loses speed, which is of course not bad, after all, her cunt still tries to suck your Sullyoon-kissed balls dry, but you notice how completely out of breath and overstimulated she seems. With unfocused puppy eyes she tries to apologize for her lack of stamina, but instead of lamenting, you find a quick solution—a solution that sends Minju straight into her first ever crazy orgasm.

Hock your arms underneath her legs, securely hold her and stand up. Sullyoon gasps in surprise, her tongue still in Minju’s ass, which suddenly shakes when you start to fuck. Minju screams in bliss, covers your crotch in girl cum as you lose your grip on reality but never your grip on her hips. Minju can barely hold onto your nape as you pound her and send orgasm after orgasm into her.

“Ahhh, oh my God, it’s, it’s coming again!”

She deserves so many more so you steady your feet and thrust upwards harder, faster, gape her cunt wide open, all for Sullyoon to see. She remembers that you speared her open in a similar way, your cock hard and reckless. She starts to touch herself while sucking on whatever part of your base isn’t currently inside Minju. In the meantime, Minju’s stockings burn themselves in your memory. She always has to wear them, they look so hot, seductive, like they were made to cover her legs.

“So big, too much, too much, I—”

Minju explodes again. This time her ability to speak is replaced by mindless moans, which sound a bit silly through her constantly cracking voice. You look down and admire the ripple of her thighs, the way her small tits bounce up and down. Her hot cunt feels ready for a load, a load it will not directly receive unfortunately.

Unfortunately? No, it’s good! You can’t risk getting Minju pregnant, that would be insane.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you groan.

“Let me help you~” Sullyoon’s lewd voice and even lewder lips push you over the edge as she puts your balls in her mouth and sucks on them loudly. The added pressure makes you unload into the condom, testing its durability. Luckily it passes the test and Minju still gets to have that feeling of hotness inside her.

She smiles weakly, but cannot really react. Her body goes limp in your arms as you slip out of her wide open hole. You carefully drop her onto the bed, a bed that you definitely need too now. Soft sheets to finally rest in after this night of projects and—other projects so to say.

“Fuck that was insane. What’s going to happen now?” you ask no one in particular. Minju is already gone, deep in a dream.

“What do you think?” Sullyoon suddenly says and lays next to you in bed, her fingers pulling away the condom. When she sees the ridiculous amount of cum still covering your dick, she is quick to clean it up with her tongue. It seems that she is just as addicted to your taste as Minju.

“Fuck, Sully—”

“We have to do this every week.”

“Wh-what?”

“Aren’t we your girlfriends now? Don’t you want this—

“To happen again~?”

Yes, they are your girlfriends now—and yes: you have fallen for them.

Who could blame you?

[arahdow]

SKILLED FINGERS

Pairing. Sonic x reader, Shadow x reader, Silver x reader, Knuckles x reader

Content. fem!reader. the way they would unclasp a bra. suggestiveness, nsfw. silver’s the shortest but the freakiest hehe. kinda ooc characters. MDNI

Word count. 1.5 k

A/N. I suddenly had the urge to write about this while talking with a friend abt how there’s men who can unclasp a bra with one hand but there are others who really struggle hehe so yeah!! i had quite the time of my life writing this sjdjs and the playlist filled with sex songs really inspired me, so, here!!

+ I was quite surprised with silver’s!!!! my hands moved on its own ! and the one with shadow, i actually got inspired from a fanart i saw on pinterest 🥵 so yeah, i did my research JDJDJSJ

++ I also wrote this while being REALLY sick so forgive me if there’s something poor written :( not beta read !!

SONIC

He gets really excited, and actually knows how to do it but because he’s impatient he can’t find it in himself to take his time

Both of them came back from a mission on green hill. The truth was that Sonic had actually gone to another place for a week now, this was the first time they saw each other after a week, and spending their first moments fighting wasn’t her cup of tea.

But now they were coming home.

Panting into each other’s mouths, his body guiding her to the edge of their bed. His hands were everywhere at the same time, his heartbeat was quick as he kept kissing her. Without parting, she got on her knees on the bed, Sonic quickly followed her. 

They both were now kissing on their knees, her hands roaming around his back, playing carefully with his quills, then coming up to cup his face, caressing his cheeks. 

The blue hedgehog took the girl from her waist and pulled her close, until she was almost sitting on his lap, both her knees on the sides of his thighs. Taking her top off of her in such a hurried way, she thought he was about to rip the piece of cloth from her body. The man was so excited, impatient. Parting from her lips for a moment, his hand roamed on her back, finding the clasp of her bra quickly. 

Giving her a smirk with hooded eyes, he started moving the clasp around, back and forth, pulling, pushing. Nothing. The girl came back from her dazed state and noticed that Sonic was actually having a hard time taking the undergarment off of her. 

Waiting for a bit, looking at his concentrated eyes, she started to giggle a bit. 

“Need assistance, love?” She asked, her hand going to her own back to end the blue hedgehog’s suffering.

But Sonic had none of that. He slapped her hand away and groaned. “I can do it! I’ve taken it off of you other times, why can’t… I… Now?” He struggled, his voice getting desperate.

She let him keep on trying until she couldn't wait any more. Sliding her own hand towards the clasp, she undid the bra easily. Sonic murmured a low “mhm”, as he continued on kissing her chest, stomach, sliding down. He looked at her with hooded eyes, his face pressed against her thigh as he admired the view.

“Gorgeous.” He winked, brushing his lips on her skin as he started doing hickeys on her thighs. If there was something Sonic quite enjoyed, it was teasing. And it showed.

SHADOW

VERY SKILLED. Doesn’t exactly know why he knows how to do it, but he’s cocky about it, nonetheless.

Shadow had just gotten home from beating the shit out of Sonic. It was a hobby at this point, not even something necessary. He came through the door stretching his arms over his head as he walked into the kitchen. 

His significant other was making dinner, thank chaos because he was actually getting very hungry from the previous activities. Smiling at him, the girl looked up from the stove, as she turned it off.

“My love! How was hunting Sonic?” She asked jokingly, as Shadow got close to her, carrying her to sit on the counter, his gloved hand taking her face using his thumb and index finger to hold her chin.

“I still have lots of energy, mhm.” He replied huskily on her ear, as he kissed her cheek, then her jaw and last her neck. “Are you going to do something about it?” 

After a few more words from him and a couple of kisses down her clavicle, the room got quite hot, and it wasn’t for her cooking. 

“Mhm, Shadow… The food.” The girl tried to complain.

“Shh, I'm having quite the feast here, doll.” He replied simply, his mouth still latched on her skin.

In seconds, Shadow put his hand in front of her. She knew exactly what he wanted. Using her teeth, she chewed the tip of his white glove, taking it off slowly. His breath hitched for a second.

Because that was a rule when being intimate: No clothes between both of them. Including his gloves.

As his hands returned on her body, he touched her naked back. She quickly felt his fingers looking for the clasp of her bra. She was about to offer to take it off herself, when he found it, the thing gave in rather quickly, making her gasp.

Shadow looked at her in the eye, his eyes scanned her flustered expression and smiled cockily. Sliding the straps off her shoulders, slowly, teasingly. She could actually feel his heartbeat as her hands pressed against his chest. The hand that wasn’t sliding the strap was caressing her thigh. His lips pressed as he stared at her chest. 

A glint showed on his red irises. Oh man. 

SILVER

Not very skilled with his fingers BUT he uses psychokinesis ofc

The girl knew she wasn’t playing fair, but she wanted to push as many buttons as she could. Actually buying those pheromones she saw on the internet, and this could go either too good or nothing could happen. She didn’t believe there were any bad consequences for her actions.

Until now.

Well, it wasn’t that bad…

But the way Silver’s face was actually smashed on her neck, licking, biting, kissing and more made her brain turn into a non thinkable goo. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself, grabbing, caressing her skin, like he wanted to combine both their bodies. 

Not only that, but he was rutting against her leg, desperate whining noises coming from his throat. The girl was losing it too, but it was obvious his body was actually on fire. His cheeks blushed a pretty red, and he actually managed to drool all over her sternum.

Her hand threaded on his quills, sliding down until she could feel his chest fur. Doing an experimental tug, the man nearly came on the spot. A breathless moan left his lips as he continued panting over her, his hands positioned on either side of her head. 

The girl kissed him hungrily, getting excited by the whole situation. 

“Love…” She tried speaking but Silver grunted, taking his girlfriend with one arm under her back, making her sit in front of him. His pupils were blown and his breathing was accelerated. He had no time to think about that damn clasp, so he snapped one of his fingers, the cyan aura forming on his hand and then, the girl felt the bra fall off her chest.

Using his psychokinesis to do such a thing turned her on, she wondered what else he could do with such power.

KNUCKLES

He just rips it off

It was common knowledge that Knuckles wasn’t the most patient or delicate guy, especially when it came to having intimate moments like this one. Rouge threw a little party for her birthday, everyone was invited and, being the showy bat she was, it was quite a formal party. So the girl decided she was about to go wild with her dress.

The piece she wore was a deep green, sleeveless dress. The neck of the dress was high, the thing hugging her curves. it looked rather simple until you looked at the back of it, a slit running all down the low back. It was gorgeous, and she felt untouchable with such a piece.

Amy actually helped her choose the dress, and she also recommended using a specific type of bra so it wouldn’t be noticeable. The straps turned and twisted, it was something difficult to put on, but she didn’t mind, as long as she looked good in the dress.

And now it was time for the reveal. Knuckles actually wanted to wear something nice, so he dressed up (she helped him choose his outfit. He also asked to help her with hers but she declined saying she had a surprise for him). 

Walking out of the room, the girl walked confidently towards her boyfriend sitting on the sofa, his legs spread and his elbows were positioned on his thighs, making him lean forwards. Too caught up in his mind, he didn’t notice until the girl was beside him. She cleared her throat and that did the trick.

His eyes flew open as he got up from the sofa, walking towards his partner. 

“My… You look gorgeous.” He said, kissing her cheek, that’s when he positioned a hand on her back noticing the slit. He swallowed, nervously. “Say, doll, what if we arrive a few minutes late?”

He asked, his hands starting to roam, sitting on her butt. The girl smiled, patting his chest. “Rouge will kill us if we arrive late.”

Knuckles hissed, finding a button that undid her whole dress. “I think we’d survive.” Were his last words before he carried the girl to bed.

Kissing and palming all over her, the man took a look at her bra and without a second notice, he ripped it off from her. She let out a surprised gasp. 

“Now how am I going to use the dress, Knux!” She exclaimed, feeling him grin, his breath caressing her chest. 

“Use it without that bra, it would look better, doll.”

[dollfaceksj]

the pink pill | jjk version (m) — “3 days”

➥ banner by: @jkndigo.

➥ PAIRING: jungkook x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: In each of these universes, you find yourself consuming what is known as the pink pill. This pill is essentially a drug that enhances your libido to the max and you’ll quite literally never experience arousal like you do when you’ve taken this pill. Thankfully, in each universe, there’s a man that’s ready to help you explore and reach your peak of sexual euphoria.

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ porn without plot ⋆ best friends

➥ CATEGORY: one-shot [part of the pink pill series]

➥ WARNINGS: unprotected sex (wrap it up!!!!), extremely horny!reader, missionary, cocky!jungkook, doggy style, cum-shot, creampie, crying, overstimulation, kissing, reader asks her bff jk for a favor, they’ve never had sex before(w each other), kissing w tongue, annoying friends, reader is dared into taking the pill, fingerfucking, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, slight choking, bit of spanking, praise, slight guilt for fucking best friend, jungkook’s stamina (deffo inspired by seven), minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 9.1k

a/n: aaaand the first addition to tpp series is out 🥴 this was originally going to be a short drabble for jk but i liked the concept so much that i decided to make it a one-shot + write one for every single member. so see this as my first thought for the fic (not boring imo but the most basic one? if that makes sense) anyways, hope u enjoy!

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

“What even is that?” you ask your friend, Lee, as you reach for the pink package that she just nonchalantly tossed onto your coffee table. You’re seated on your couch as you wrap your fingers around the piece of pink carton, uncrossing your legs once you have it in your hands.

Your eyes scan the white letters around the pink cartoon cat but you still can’t make much sense of it.

“I saw someone tweet about it. Essentially, it’s like viagra for vaginas,” Lee tells you as she leans back into the couch, a cold can of coke in her hand.

You can’t help but snort in mockery as you throw it back onto the table in front of you and say, “There’s no way in hell you actually believe that thing works.”

Your other friend, Yoona, walks out of your kitchen with another can of soda in her hand. She glances at the small pink package on the table as she plops down on your couch next to you, an amused grin on her lips.

Lee shrugs her shoulders as she zaps through the comedy movies catalogue on Netflix with your remote, her eyes absentmindedly shifting to the packaged pill. “I’m not sure. It was like 10 bucks on Amazon.” Her gaze lingers on the pill, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You roll your eyes, annoyance bubbling in your chest at the fact that your friend is dumb enough to get scammed like this. “10 bucks? They just sold you some cinnamon powder in a capsule and called it a day,” you laugh, returning your attention to the TV as you throw your feet up onto the coffee table.

“Oh, yeah? Then why don’t you take it?” Lee challenges you, pushing the pill in the pink package toward you with her foot.

Your eyes shift toward the pill. “You want me to take that pill right now?” Your eyebrow cocks up and you stare at it for a moment as if it were poison before turning your attention to her. It could very well be poison, actually.

A smirk stretches onto Yoona’s lips as she seemingly enjoys the thought of Lee challenging the most stubborn person on planet Earth. Yoona leans forwards after sipping her coke, parting her lips to say, “Yeah, since you don’t think that it works, right?”

You nonchalantly shrug your shoulders, hoping to appear unbothered. You raise your own drink to your lips and glance at your friends over the rim of your can. “I really don’t,” you say before you take a sip of your iced tea. “But Jungkook is coming over later.”

An evil look twinkles in Yoona’s eyes as your words reach her ears. “Ah, so you do think there’s a chance it works.” She’s proud of her little gotcha-moment but you make sure it’s short-lived.

She watches as you swallow too quickly, a low burp escaping your lips as you scramble to defend yourself.

“No, I literally don’t.” Why would you? Viagra is insanely expensive, to think it’s counterpart is available on Amazon for 10 bucks is insane.

“Then take it,” Lee tilts her head to the side, a shit-eating grin on her lips. “Besides… you keep saying there’s nothing going on between you and Jungkook. Why mention he’s coming over if you’re not fucking him and if you don’t think the pill works?” she adds, eyes twinkling with satisfaction as if she’s got you.

You place your can of iced tea back down on the table with a thud. “I’m not fucking Jungkook, you weirdo,” you grumble as you defiantly reach for the pill.

You and Jungkook have been best friends for years, they know that! They know how both you and Jungkook physically cringe and wince whenever someone mistakes the two of you for a couple. Now, they put the image of having sex with him in your brain and it’s weird.

(Read: Well, lately, it has been crossing your mind but it quickly gets ignored.)

You’re not dumb, you know Jungkook’s been popular for being attractive since forever but he was never really your type.

Keyword: was.

It’s not your fault, though! Jungkook has been growing out his hair and has been working out, his arm is covered in tattoos and he seems to be making good money as a freelance video editor.

“Well, if you’re not fucking him, can I? I don’t know what’s in the air but he’s been changing a lot lately. Like his beauty looks like it doesn’t even belong on Earth.” Yoona takes the final sip of her old drink after she says that, crumpling it up and slamming it down onto the table with an obnoxious exhale.

You can tell she’s saying it to get a rise out of you but you quite literally don’t care. Why would you care about who the hell your friend is fucking?

“Fuck him if you want, I literally don’t care,” you say quietly as you gather the empty cans onto the tray you brought them in. You actually can’t bring yourself to care about Jungkook’s sex life, in all honesty.

“See, you’re jealous! I bet you’re fucking.” Lee’s teaseful words and Yoona’s obnoxious giggles are starting to irritate you. Can’t they just accept the fact you’re not fucking your best friend just because he has a penis?

You glare at the both of them with a twitch in your brows, your nostrils flared and your fingers tingling with the urge to throw the empty cans of soda at them.

You make up your mind and say, “Alright, to prove to you that this stupid pink pill doesn’t fucking work and nothing is going on between Jungkook and I…” You pop the pill out of its pocket and place it on your tongue, swiftly swallowing it down with the rest of your iced tea. “Two birds, one stone.”

The room fills with obnoxious laughter and giggles as they watch you, shaking their head at your obstinance. “You’re so stubborn and so petty,” Yoona adds before taking a sip of her new coke after cracking it open.

“You really think the pussy equivalent of viagra would cost 10 bucks? Be serious,” you grumble in annoyance, throwing your feet up onto the table again and slouch further into your couch as you try to pay attention to whatever is playing on the TV.

They share a mischievous look but you can’t bring yourself to comment on it. “Okay, if you say so.” Lee brings her shoulders up in a shrug and drops the topic for now.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

About 45 minutes later as Yoona and Lee get ready to leave, Yoona nudges you with her foot. “Do you feel anything?”

“No. I don’t. I’m telling you, it’s not real,” you tell them in all honesty. You really don’t feel any different. You don’t show your relief, though.

“Bummer. I really wanted you to learn a lesson,” Lee laughs and blows you a kiss when you put up your middle finger.

You say goodbye as they walk out and you just return your attention to your TV, watching the sappy drama that Lee and Yoona are obsessed with for some reason.

After a few moments, your phone buzzes.

[7:02PM]

Jungkook

Lays or Pringles?

[7:03PM]

You

pringlessssss

[7:03PM]

Jungkook

Bet. Be there in about an hour

[7:04PM]

You

okiii

You mindlessly throw your phone somewhere on the couch beside you and rise to your feet to clean up the mess Lee and Yoona left behind.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Well, fuck.

About another 40 minutes later, you’re starting to actually regret taking that damn pill.

You can’t fucking believe this. Your nipples have been erect for 20 minutes and you’re sure you’re in need of a change of underwear.

What the hell is in that pill?

You walk into the bathroom to examine your appearance in the mirror. The air knocks out of your lungs at the sight in front of you.

Your pupils are dilated, your cheeks and nose are piping hot. Your lips are swollen and a thin layer of sweat is draped over your forehead.

Your heart has also been beating quicker than usual.

You want to hump everything in your sight. Is this what it’s like for an animal in heat? Fucking hell. You’ve never been this aroused.

Your hand slowly travels down your stomach and under the hem of your sweats. Reaching into your underwear, your fingertips are met with a disgusting amount of pure sticky substance.

If you weren’t wearing your sweatpants so low on your hips, you definitely would have soaked through the thick material of your sweats, that’s how fucking drenched you are.

What should you do? Take a quick shower? It’d be useless to shower now since the effects can last for days. You’d just continue to produce your body’s natural lubrication and you don’t have the time to be showering every hour.

Clean up and change your underwear? That sounds like it’d make the most sense but you’d go through a lot of panties in a couple days too. Maybe you should literally just wear a tampon?

Fucking hell. You should’ve never taken that fucking pill. Damn those fucking friends of yours.

Like a gag in a sitcom, just as you reach for your underwear drawer, your front door swinging open rips through your eardrums. Regret immediately seeps into your stomach for giving Jungkook your spare residence key.

“Honey, I’m home,” Jungkook jokes and the sound of him kicking off his shoes as he closes the door rings in your ears like a blaring alarm.

You want to drop onto your knees and scream until you pass the fuck out. Your eyes flicker between the drawer and your bedroom door. What should you do?

He doesn’t give you much of an option when you hear him searching for you. “Y/N? Where are you?” Jungkook’s voice rings even louder in your ears this time and you can hear him approaching your room. You internally cry out and quickly head towards your bedroom door.

You walk into the hall and watch as he stops in his tracks. He’s wearing a black beanie, grey sweatpants and a grey sweater with a plastic bag in his tattooed hand which you assume are the snacks he picked up on his way here.

Grey fucking sweats.

Jungkook has always been handsome but for fuck’s sake. Your core literally pulsates at the sight of him right now.

“Hey,” you breathe out and walk up to him, brushing past him and into the living room in a straight line.

“Hey… You okay?” His eyebrows shoot up in surprise and quickly pinch into a frown as he follows you into the living room.

You quickly nod your head, hand on your head as you try to collect your thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine. You?” you say, trying to appear casual as you head into the kitchen to grab a can of his favorite beer.

The sound of the plastic bag full of snacks hitting your coffee table and his body plopping onto your couch doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “I’m great, work was chill.”

You place your hands on your kitchen counter and lean forwards, taking a moment to catch your breath but your breath is not steadying at all.

Your feet carry you to the living room and you carefully place the cans onto the coffee table, trying your best not to look at him in those damn sweatpants.

Jungkook has ditched the beanie and his long black locks are sprawled on the backrest of the couch as he has comfortably sunk into your sofa, hair messy and screaming to be tugged on. You have to fight every bone in your body to not climb onto his lap right now and grind into him.

Have some fucking decorum, he’s your friend. Not an object.

Your chest deflates as you softly exhale. Make your way to the couch as you carefully sit down. Hope to the Lord that you don’t soak through your clothes. You’d usually sit next to him but today you think it’d be best to sit at the other end of the couch.

He aims his frown at you but you pretend not to notice. He doesn’t comment on it, though. You crack your new can of iced tea open because there’s no way you’re putting alcohol in your system with this amount of arousal pooling inside of you.

“What movie are we watching?” he asks after a moment of silence in hopes of deterring the awkwardness as he turns his head to the TV, his thumb pressing one of the arrows on your remote, going through the catalogue of available movies.

“Uh… I don’t know. You can choose,” you mumble as you take a few more gulps to distract yourself.

He frowns at your words but keeps his eyes glued to the TV. “I chose last time. It’s your turn to choose.”

“Yeah, sorry, I just–” you start, which makes him look at you, “just put that one on.” You wave your hand toward the TV and he turns his head to look at the one he’s landed on before you return your attention to chugging your iced tea.

“We watched that one 3 weeks ago.” He sits up this time. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to keel over,” he says, quietly. He sounds concerned and you sound fucking stupid.

You shake your head as the sparkling beverage burns your throat, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I’m fine, I’m okay,” you mumble under your breath.

“Are you trying to convince me or you?” he asks, “And why are you sitting so far away?” he whines as he scoots closer to you, his hand reaching out to grab your waist but you shoot up out of the couch and onto your feet, avoiding his touch by a hair.

The moment he touches you, you’re going to pounce on him. No doubt in your mind.

“No, don’t,” you squeal, taking a step away from the sofa.

Now Jungkook is really fucking confused.

He quickly stands up as well, a concerned yet confused frown on his face. He probably thinks he did something wrong which makes your chest tighten with guilt. “What’s going on? Why are you acting like you’re about to have a fucking stroke?”

You breathe loudly as you pace around the living room with your hands on your head and say, “I might.”

Jungkook’s breath abruptly hitches in his throat as your concerning words ring in his ears. “Wh– Huh? What? Should I call an ambulance?”

You shake your head. “No, it’s not like that,” you mumble before you finally turn to him, dropping your hands from your head and letting your fingers pick at the loose flesh around your nails.

His eyes drop down to your anxious fidgeting before traveling back up to stare at you. “Then, what is it? You’re scaring the shit out of me right now, Y/N.”

He actually does look terrified right now, staring at you with wide eyes as his teeth absentmindedly play with his lip piercings.

You loudly exhale in exasperation and rub your forehead as you consider just telling him. “I fucked up, Jungkook, and I’m panicking,” you say, rubbing your eyes until there’s colored spots in your vision. “I never should’ve taken that fucking pill.”

You watch as his face becomes that of a cartoon character, eyes wide, brows raised to the stars, mouth twitching. “What? Pill? What pill? Are you high?”

You roll your eyes and grunt in annoyance with yourself for phrasing it like that. “No, I–” you groan loudly before cutting yourself off and heading into the kitchen. You wince as you shove your hand into the trash can, taking the ripped pink piece of carton out of the garbage. You stare at it for a while but already find yourself heading back into the living room before you overthink it and change your mind.

Jungkook is still standing in front of the couch, his big brown eyes still wide with concern and his bottom lip reddened from how much he’s been chewing on it.

You walk up to him and with a flick of your wrist, you toss it onto the table in front of him. He glances at the pink package before glancing back up at you but you’re already looking away with your arms crossed.

He slowly sinks back down and takes the ripped package into his hands to examine it. He reads the words for a few seconds but he still seems confused. “Female sexual enhancement and libido boosting? What the fuck is this?”

You groan as you drop to your knees on the floor across from him, in front of the coffee table.

“It’s like viagra for people with pussies and it’s supposed to make you horny as fuck. My friends dared me to take it because I told them it wasn’t real.”

He looks up at you through his brows, a mix of surprise and confusion still on his face. “Do you think it’s laced with something dangerous?”

“No, nothing like that but whatever the fuck they put in it is working. It’s fucking working,” you whine as you place your elbows on the coffee table in front of you with a loud thud, burying your face in your palms.

There’s a moment of silence between you two.

“So like…” he begins, trying to stifle a laugh, “you’re really horny? Right now?”

“Jungkook,” you groan, eyes shamefully looking up at him and you’re just in time to watch him clutch his arms around his stomach as he just obnoxiously laughs in your face. “Stop laughing!”

He chuckles for a little while longer before calming down. “I’m sorry, I’ve just never heard of this before. How are you feeling?” He places it back onto the table and returns the eye contact, still an annoying grin on his soft lips.

“Like I could fuck the fridge if it had a dick.”

Jungkook bursts out laughing maniacally, throwing himself back onto the couch as he exaggeratedly gasps for air.

“Jungkook! I’m panicking, stop laughing!” you whine, standing back up on your feet as heat rushes to your face, a lump of embarrassment forming in your throat.

“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckles as he wipes a tear at the corner of his eye. “You’re just so fucking stupid.”

You huff in response and glare down at him, his eyes slowly trailing up your body to meet yours and the single act of his black eyes drinking you in makes a curtain of lava drape over your already burning body.

You tap your foot against the floor impatiently. “What should I do?” You chew on your lip as you ask him the impossible question.

He simply shrugs his shoulders and leans back into the couch, hands on his upper thighs right below his hips. He’s not making this any fucking easier. “Masturbate. Or go get fucked.”

You wince, a thousand volts of electricity travelling up your vertebrae at his words. “Tonight’s our movie night, though.”

“Babe, you’re clearly not in the right headspace to be watching a movie with me.”

You internally scream at the pet name he sometimes uses when the both of you are alone. It never makes you feel anything in particular but right now, your stomach clenches at the pet name and you’re painfully reminded that it didn’t help your sticky underwear situation at all.

“Still, I don’t want to ditch you. That’s not cool,” you mutter as you take a seat on the couch, cringing as your panties stick to your core and your slick is undoubtedly smeared all over your sex and inner thighs. No matter how nonchalant he is about the situation, you’re too embarrassed to excuse yourself now to go change your damn underwear.

“So what? You’re just gonna sit next to me and squirm all evening?” he asks you, a genuine look of confusion on his face.

“Mhm.” You shrug your shoulders in hopes of appearing nonchalant and unbothered as you reach for the remote.

But you’re extremely bothered. Hot and fucking bothered.

“You can go masturbate, you know. I’m not going to act weird about it,” he tells you with a carefree air around him as he tears a bag of chips open.

His words make your pussy clench around nothing and you have to actively remind yourself to cross your arms to hide your erect nipples, despite the fact he has probably already noticed.

“I doubt masturbating will do the trick. Besides, it says the effects can last up to 72 hours. I’m not going to masturbate for 3 days.”

He breaks into a fit of giggles again, making you roll your eyes as you swing one of your legs over the other. It appears casual but really, you’re just looking for some friction.

“You’re so dumb for taking that pill.” He reminds you, as if you don’t already know that. He glances at you when a childish huff pushes past your lips.

Neither of you say anything else but the moment of silence is disturbed by the scrunching of the bag of chips in Jungkook’s hands.

You take a moment as you consider what you really want to ask him. Should you just say fuck it and ask him to fuck the shit out of you?

The idea quickly gets obliterated by your rational self and you finally choose a movie to play.

Throughout the movie, you notice Jungkook���s eyes on you every now and then. The constant crossing of your legs and arms doesn’t go unnoticed by him but he never comments on it.

You’re doing great until a sex scene starts playing on the screen. You suck in a breath as you watch intently, your fingers twitching in your lap.

The actress on the screen is crying out in – over the top – pleasure as the man pounds into her, the headboard of the bed banging against the wall exaggeratedly makes the frames that are hung up on the wall crash to the ground with a loud clatter. You know it’s all fake but that doesn’t stop the gushing in your panties.

“Y/N,” Jungkook chuckles as he motions for you to skip the scene but you don’t react to him.

You stare blankly ahead of you at the TV, sitting in silence. You can see Jungkook shaking his head at your stubbornness in the corner of your eye as he stretches his arm over your lap, reaching for the remote that’s next to your thigh. His arm is hovered over your lap, face almost pressed into your chest and his cologne is the final drop that has your head spinning.

The silence that falls around the two of you as you impulsively wrap your hand around his wrist – that’s reaching for the remote – is suffocating.

He instantly freezes, eyes glued to the remote that he had just wrapped his fingers around. He’s in an awkward position, lying on his hip and his arm stretched out over your thighs with his face mere inches away from your breasts.

You finally decide to speak up.

“Will you do me a favor?” you quietly ask him after those few moments of silence as you let go of his wrist, your eyes nervously glued to your fingers as you fidget with the laces of your sweatpants.

This time, Jungkook is quiet.

Jungkook is never quiet.

The tension is palpable and it makes you want to jump off your balcony right now. His silence is already starting to make you regret asking him.

He slowly moves back to his seat but you can’t see much else as you refuse to look away from your lap.

He finally speaks up and you’re conflicted on whether you’re relieved that he does or not. “Are you asking me what I think you’re asking of me?” His voice is lower than usual. It sends a quick shiver down your spine and awakens the goosebumps on the upper layer of your skin.

You don’t even look at him and in response, you just stay quiet, your silence confirming his speculation.

You two sit in unbearable silence for what seems like a damn eternity, the obnoxious moaning coming from the TV is not making this any easier. Jungkook seems to be in deep thought before you see him rise to his feet in your peripheral vision. You swallow thickly as he starts heading towards the entrance hall.

Shit. He’s leaving.

You don’t blame him, though. Who the fuck asks this of their best friend?

You shut your eyes tightly, holding your breath as you patiently wait for the sound of the door clicking close to hit your ears.

But it never comes.

“Are you coming or not?”

His words shoot into your eardrums like a thousand needles and it makes your heart violently jerk against your ribcage.

You crack your eyes open to see him standing in the doorway of the hall, back turned to you but his head turned over his shoulder as he stares you down with an unreadable expression clouding his face. A frown climbs its way onto your brows as you slowly get up. Your feet take you to him on their own, body magnetizing towards him as your stomach bursts with excitement and your veins are set aflame with desire.

You shyly follow him into your bedroom as if you’re the one visiting his home. “Are you sure?” you quietly ask him as you enter your bedroom after him, closing the door with a soft thud.

He slowly turns to you, head cocked to the side as his black gaze drapes over your body and makes you feel incredibly small. “You’re my friend in need of some help. Why would I not be sure?” His face is a bit expressionless and his voice sounds different than what you’re used to.

Your brows pinch together at his disregardance. “Jungkook, this isn’t a usual request. I’m not asking you to drop me off at home after work or to delete an ugly picture of me you posted on your instagram. I’m–”

“You’re asking me to fuck you. I don’t see why it has to mean anything more than what it is. Sex isn’t that big of a deal, Y/N.”

You idly blink at him, listening to his blunt words as he casually tells you he’s down to fuck you. All those years of the two of you swearing you had never crossed any lines, how you don’t see each other that way, how you’re like family and this is what it’s come to?

The doubt glimmering in your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by him, evident by the crossing of his arms over his chest and the cocking of his head to the side. “Are you sure?” he asks you this time, his voice soft and his tone neutral.

You stare at him for a couple seconds but you’ve made up your mind.

You start walking past him, heading for your bed. You tuck your fingers under the hem of your sweats and wiggle them off your hips as you turn around to face him again, stepping out of the sweats pooling at your ankles. You take a seat on the edge of your bed and kick your sweats away, all whilst looking up at him through your pretty lashes.

You notice that his own breath is getting heavier. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he watches you slowly lean back on your hands, bending your legs at the knees and propping your feet up onto the edge of the mattress as you spread your thighs wide apart, allowing him to witness your extreme arousal firsthand.

Jungkook’s eyes drop down to what’s between your legs, the massive wet patch of slick on your panties and your inner thighs lathered in your stickiness make his eyebrows twitch.

“Is that pill giving you a major confidence boost too?” he mumbles as he walks up to you, referring to how you’re usually on the shy and modest side. He tugs his sweatshirt off and throws it somewhere on your floor.

“I don’t give a fuck about what it’s given me, I need you to fuck me like you’ve never fucked anyone before. Right now,” you say with a hiss to your tone as you ditch your t-shirt, leaving you in your sheer tank top and no bra.

Your erect nipples haven’t gone unnoticed by him and your words make him grunt in response. You watch as he starts palming himself through his sweatpants, body now towering over you as he stares down at you.

You’ve seen Jungkook shirtless before, when he’s working out or playing some random sport with his friends that you agreed to cheer him on for from the sidelines. Even when he stays over or you stay over at his. So, his physique shouldn’t be surprising to you and it isn’t, but the sight of his bare torso right now drives you up the fucking wall.

He reaches for the hem of your panties, making you close your thighs as he yanks them down your legs. The massive string of slick still connected to your underwear makes him swear loudly, your panties aggressively tossed to the floor by him.

“I can’t believe how wet it’s made you,” he grunts as he places his hands on your knees and gently spreads your thighs again, eyes glued to your sticky pussy. “I’m pretty confident I’ve satisfied all the people I’ve had sex with but I’ve never seen anything like this. You’re fucking dripping.”

And you are. You can hear the splatter of a droplet hitting your floor and the embarrassment drives you absolutely insane.

You notice his hand tightening around his boner. “Fuck, I want to taste.”

You can tell he wants to touch, lick, taste you but you’ve already made it clear that you need him to fuck you right this instant.

“Jungkook, I’ll literally die if you don’t fuck me right now.” You lean back onto your elbows, eyes still staring up at him as he slowly starts tugging his sweatpants down his legs. Soon he ditches the Calvin Klein boxers too, allowing his erection to spring free.

Your eyes drop down to the dick in his hand, hard as a rock as he spits in his hand and strokes himself whilst eyeing you. His dick is red at the tip but darkens at the shaft, it’s not massive but it’s not small either. It’s just the right size. The sight alone could have you squirting hands-free.

You need to be sedated.

“I don’t have any protection on me,” he begins, “Are you–”

You cut him off. “I’m clean. Are you?”

You know Jungkook is incredibly responsible when it comes to his sex life but you still make it a thing to ask.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. Upper teeth sunken into his bottom lip. Strokes his own dick.

“Good, ‘cause I need to feel everything,” you grunt as you reach for your clit. You drag your fingers up your wet slit and pull your fingers away from your pussy to show him the thick string of your slick that stays connected from your pussy to your fingers. The string doesn’t break even though you’ve stretched it out a few inches.

It’s your way of telling him you don’t need any prep because you are disgustingly drenched.

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He takes a few moments to collect himself before he positions himself at your sex. He rubs the head of his dick up and down your slit, gathering your slick onto his tip with a hiss escaping his mouth. “Birth control?”

Your legs violently jerk at the sensation of the head of his dick rubbing up and down your slit. You could cum right now. “Yeah.” Your reply leaves your lips in a pornographic moan and you can’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed about it.

He positions his dick at your hole with one hand whilst the other supports your leg by the back of your knee. “Ready?”

“For fuck’s sake, just put it in already. I feel like I’ll come undone any second,” you whimper, your chest rising and falling dramatically as you pant.

A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest, looking up into your eyes for the first time since you showed him your wet pussy. He slowly starts pushing into you, his eyes watching your face as your mouth falls open and your eyebrows scrunch together at the intrusion.

A whiny groan leaves his throat as your walls wrap around him. “Holy shit. You’re so fucking tight. So fucking wet,” he mumbles more to himself as he starts pushing further in, the sweet moans spilling from your lips raising goosebumps on his arms as you clench around him, threatening to milk him of everything he’s worth.

He leans forward and hovers over you, wedging himself in between your legs as he keeps pushing into you. His hands are flat against the mattress on each side of your waist, the back of your knees bent at his forearms, around his elbows. You’re spread so wide that the sound of your soaking pussy is, at times, louder than the slapping of his skin against yours.

You cry out at the pleasure, it’s like your sensitivity has been cranked up to a hundred. Your senses are sent into overdrive, the tiniest friction has your head spinning because nothing compares to how you’re feeling right now.

You open your eyes to the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen, Jungkook on top of you with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes closed. He’s gorgeous.

Tears prick in your eyes at the pleasure, the head of his dick rubbing against your walls so good has you seeing stars. You can feel every single ridge, vein, nook and cranny of his dick as he fucks into you. Your walls tighten around him so well, your slick already making a sticky mess against his sex and your bum.

As if he sensed you looking at him, his eyes crack open and stare down at yours. His gaze drops down to your lips and before you know it, he has his lips pressed to yours. You’re surprised at first but your lips quickly work back, a moan escaping your throat which allows him to lick into your mouth.

After several minutes of making out and fucking, Jungkook pulls back to catch his breath. “Sorry about that but you feel– you feel so fucking good,” he grunts as he leans back again, turning you onto your side and lifting your leg as he continues to fuck into you.

You yelp at the switch of position, your fingers tightly wrapping around the sheets under your waist, watching as your leg slightly jerks against his chest but he restrains your thigh as he holds onto it tightly.

The familiar clench in your stomach takes you by surprise. Already?

“I’m gonna fucking cum. I’m gonna–” You have never orgasmed this fast and definitely not from solely penetration before but this pill is working wonders.

Jungkook nods his head in understanding as he kisses your calf that’s up on his shoulder. “Cum on my dick, babe,” he says with a moan before he tilts his head back in bliss.

Fuck him for using that pet name.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, my God. I’m gonna…” you cry out as your orgasm drops onto you like a pile of fucking bricks, a million volts of electricity frying your brains and making your heart beat a thousand miles a minute.

You’re grateful that Jungkook keeps fucking you because your orgasm has never lasted this long before. Your legs are shaking, your hands are bunching up the sheets around you and your throat burns from the cries you’ve let out.

The continuous clenching of your pussy during your orgasm has pushed Jungkook to the edge as well, his brows furrowed in concentration.

His own orgasm approaches him as his thrusts get a little rougher, your breasts bouncing from the momentum of his hips slamming into yours.

Not long after you, he pulls out in one swift motion. It seems like he pulled out right on time because ropes of his warm cum instantly land all over your sex and stomach the moment he pulls out.

He reaches for his dick and pumps himself to milk himself of every drop, bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he watches himself cum all over his best friend.

His hand comes to a halt and he collapses on top of you, face buried in the crook of your neck as he tries to catch his breath.

After a few moments of silence and no movement other than the heavy breathing, you say, “Jungkook…”

He pauses for a moment and then says, “Give me a few minutes, I’ll be ready for round two in a bit.” His voice is quiet and muffled from being buried in the crook of your neck.

“Round two?” you ask him, a scrunch on your brows as you frown at the ceiling.

He slowly lifts his head, his eyes searching yours. “Yeah, you don’t wanna go for round two?” he asks, his voice is neutral as if he’s asking you about the weather. Doesn’t he realize he just fucked you? He’s talking to you with the sweetest look in his eyes as if he didn’t just give you most mind-blowing orgasm of your life.

“Well… Yeah. But I don’t expect you to,” you quietly say, blinking up at him with doe eyes.

“Nonsense,” he grumbles as he finally pushes himself off of you, his softening dick retreating from you. He glances down at your chest and looks back up at you. “Can I take this off?” he asks, gently tugging at your tank top.

Without another word, you reach for the hem of your tank top and pull it over your head. He quietly apologizes as he takes it from you and uses it to wipe your body clean before tossing it aside. He knows you’re too fucked out to scold him for it.

Jungkook’s eyes immediately drop down to your breasts, his big brown eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. His hands reach up but freeze right above your breasts, eyes glancing up to read your expression and see if it’s okay to touch them.

Your eyes flicker with desperation. “Please,” you breathe out, encouraging him to go ahead.

He brings his hand up to his mouth and licks at his thumb, bringing it down to toy with your erect nipple. “Wow,” he whispers, closing in on your other breast with his mouth as he gently licks and sucks on your nipple.

Your moans sound pathetic, hips involuntarily thrusting up into his. It makes him chuckle like the cocky asshole that he is, his hand gently pressing against your stomach to push your hips down. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone this horny,” he states as he rolls off of you and props himself up next to you, leaning on his elbow to support his own weight.

His hand slowly trails from your breast down to your stomach and you’re already spreading your thighs further apart for him which makes him chuckle again. The tips of his middle and ring finger find your clit, the direct contact to the most sensitive area in your body sends a shiver down your legs.

Small circles are being rubbed onto your clit by his soft fingers and after a few moments, his eyes shift down to his fingers as he pulls them away from your pussy. “Look,” he says in a deep exhale.

You glance down at his hand like he’s asking you to. He’s showing you the string of slick that’s connected to his fingers and if you weren’t high off arousal right now, you’d be extremely embarrassed at how wet you are.

His fingers dive back in, sliding in between your folds and massaging all around before he plunges his fingers into you. This makes you thrust your hips straight up into his hand, a pornographic moan spilling from your lips.

“You’re so needy,” he chuckles, pushing you down as he starts furiously fucking his fingers into you, curling them repeatedly to assault your g-spot.

You yelp at the torture on your sweet spot. “Shut the fuck up,” you grunt, your reaction to his teaseful words makes him chuckle.

He presses his soft lips into the side of your neck as he continues his abuse on your pussy, not commenting on the way your legs jolt and jerk with every curl of his fingers but forcefully restraining you from writhing with his own body.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna–”

“Already?” he teases you, twisting his body so half of it is now hovering over you. You turn to look at him as you sob, the squishing sounds your pussy makes are loud enough to finally embarrass you. His face is hovering right over yours as his hands slam into your sex. Your hands reach up to the back of his head, pulling him down to press your lips into his so you can avoid his piercing gaze.

He wastes no time kissing you back, his hand picking up its insanity-inducing pace. White spots cover your eyelids as a strange sensation washes over you. It’s not an orgasm, you don’t recall ever feeling this before. You cry into his mouth and it takes you a second to realize you’re squirting all over your bed.

“Fuuuck,” Jungkook grunts into your mouth, the pace of his hand never faltering as it continues to slam into your sex. Tears stream down your face as your second orgasm quickly approaches you right after your squirt session, your legs continuously jerking and squirming under him.

“Jungkook–!” you sob as your hips involuntarily recoil against the mattress, your orgasm finally hitting you directly after your squirt session. Your hips running away from Jungkook’s hand doesn’t mean anything to him. He just keeps fucking his fingers into you. Lips still pressed to yours as he swallows your pleading cries.

He hums against your mouth, lips wrapping around your tongue as he gently sucks on it. You aggressively squirm under him, your hands weakly pressed up against his shoulders and chest in an attempt to push him off. He finally gets the memo and retreats his fingers.

He can’t help himself as he pulls away from your lips, bringing his sticky fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean, humming in delight at the taste of his best friend.

He pulls his fingers out of his mouth with a pop and sits up, looking down at the mess you created. “Damn. I didn’t know you could do all that,” he mumbles before running his hand back up your disgustingly wet slit, holding you down with his other hand to keep you from squirming.

You can’t even answer, you’re completely fucked out under him, trying to catch your breath.

“You’re not giving up on me, are you?” he quips, using his sticky hand to pump his growing erection.

Your eyes drop down to his hand, swallowing hard as you eye his dick. “Get on all fours, come on,” he says as he slaps your thigh, getting on his knees on your mattress in front of you.

“Give me a second, you freak,” you mumble as you prop yourself up on your elbows. You shake your head in an attempt to gather your thoughts but it doesn’t do much.

You finally turn over and lazily get onto your hands and knees, arms shaking and you try your best to ignore your slick trickling down the back of your thighs.

His hand comes down to knead your asscheek, a low grunt leaving his throat. “If there’s one thing I’ve fantasized about when it comes to you, it’s your ass,” he mutters under his breath, both his hands now kneading the soft skin of your bum.

“You’ve fantasized about me?” you ask him, glancing over your shoulder to look back at him.

His eyes glance into yours before they return to your perky ass in front of him, one hand stopping the kneading of your cheek to pump his dick and position it at your sex.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t,” he starts, “but it was only a handful of times and it was way back when we first met, no worries,” he adds, rubbing the tip of his dick up your slit. “I take our friendship seriously.”

It knocks a moan out of you and your arms already give out, your face colliding with the mattress under you. How seriously did you both take this friendship if you’re rubbing your genitals together right now?

“Have you fantasized about me?” he quietly asks you, a quiet hiss leaving his lips as he continues to rub his tip up and down your wetness.

You sniff, silently thinking about your answer for a moment before sighing and saying, “Maybe once a year.”

A soft chuckle escapes his lips at your response and he shakes his head. He doesn’t reply and instead pushes into you, groaning at the stretch again. “I literally just fucked you, how are you still so–” he groans loudly as he bottoms out. He throws his head back as he starts fucking into you but quickly tilts it back down to watch the skin of your asscheeks recoil against his hips.

Your pathetic wimpers make him reach around your hip, gently rubbing your clit as he starts thrusting into you. You cry out at the overstimulation, stretching your arm out behind you to push into his lower stomach in an attempt to push him off but there’s absolutely no strength behind the push because you don’t want him to stop.

“You sound so fucking pretty like this,” he grunts, fingers continuing to rub circles on your overstimulated clit and he pays absolutely no mind to your hand pressing into his lower abdomen. “Tell me how I’m making you feel.”

With another sob into your pillow, you shake your head at his request. He can’t possibly expect you to form a coherent sentence, right?

That’s until you feel a sharp sting spread through your asscheek, your ass recoiling from the spanking he just gave you. You gasp and lazily turn your face to look over your shoulder at him as you shout, “Jeon Jungkook!”

He leans over, his chest pressed into your back and his lips pressed against your ear. “Tell me,” he whispers as he pushes you forward, watching you fall flat onto your stomach, face pressed into the pillows. You’re now fully lying face down on the mattress.

Just as you turn to look over your shoulder at him, he has entered you again. The fact that you’re lying face down with your legs together makes him curse as he struggles to enter you all the way but he does, the feeling of being wrapped all around him has you seeing stars.

He places his hands on each side of your elbows as you prop yourself up on them, his lips pressed to the shell of your ear and his chest pressed into your back as he starts thrusting into you again.

“Jungkook,” you moan as you turn your face slightly, eyes staring up at him. His face is so close to yours, eyes glued to the mattress underneath you.

“Tell me how it feels, baby.”

Fuck. Why would he call you that?

Your mouth is agape and your eyebrows are furrowed as Jungkook keeps fucking into you from behind, his eyes finally shifting to yours. His proximity and intense eyes make you finally comply as you say, “It– It feels so fucking good.”

His black eyes penetrate yours and you can’t tear your eyes away from his. “You look so fucking pretty like this, Y/N, holy shit. I just wanna–” he grunts as he cuts himself off, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder as he keeps fucking into your tightness.

“You just wanna what?” you say, a soft whimper following your words as you encourage him to finish his sentence.

“Destroy you.”

A cry spills from your lips the moment he says that, the pace in which he’s thrusting picks up and it’s getting rougher with each passing second. At this point you’re almost getting hatefucked and you can’t help but love every second of it.

“I hope that’s a promise,” you manage to reply.

“Oh yeah?” His hand wraps around your throat from the back, making you lift your head up, the back of your head colliding with his shoulder. Your temple is pressed against his jaw as he gently squeezes your throat.

The sinful sounds such as his skin slapping against yours, the squelshing of your wet pussy and the moans spilling from your lips are the only things you can hear and want to hear at this moment.

Jungkook’s lips and nose graze the shell of your ear, quiet moans leaving his mouth and you can only describe it as liquid gold being ladled into your ear by angels.

“Fuck, come ride me.” He doesn’t even wait for a response as he slides right out of you, lets go of your throat and drops his body next to yours before rolling onto his back. His strong arms reach for you and yank you up by your arm and waist, pulling you toward him.

A surprised yelp leaves you as you’re forced to climb onto him, every single time your clit grazes his skin has you biting back a pathetic sob. You guide his dick toward your sex and without hesitation, you sink right down onto his sex.

He grunts at the way you tightly wrap around him, hands reaching for your hips. You start bouncing on him, thighs and ass slapping into his hips which makes him moan your name softly.

You throw your head back in pure bliss and place your hands on his thighs, allowing yourself to lean back on them and support your weight as you fuck yourself on his dick.

“Holy shit,” he mumbles as he watches your every movement, eyes scanning the way your face twists in pleasure, the way your breasts bounce, the way your stomach jiggles, the way pretty moans continuously fall from your lips.

He brings his fingers to your sex and rubs that pattern that you like directly onto your clit. He watches as your body starts jerking and your legs start trembling with a shit-eating grin.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna–”

He cuts you off. “I know, pretty. Cum all over me,” he says as he continues to stimulate your already overstimulated clit.

You want to keep riding, you really, really want to but you can’t. Your body collapses right on top of his torso, breathless and a mess. He jumps right into action as he holds onto your forearms and pins them into your lower back, holding you tightly against his chest as he thrusts up into you.

Your face is buried in the pillow right next to his head, your cries probably deafening him as he fucks you toward your 3rd orgasm of the hour. Your body is moving like jelly at this point and you can’t contain your sobs as your body continues to tremble like a leaf in the wind.

Your 3rd orgasm hits you like a fucking train and you can’t even move, you keep crying in Jungkook’s hold as he mercilessly pounds his hips up into you.

Fireworks explode on the back of your eyelids, electricity fries your brain into a pile of mush and your body is set alight, all your nerve endings bursting with magma.

When you’ve ridden out your orgasm, a surprised whimper rips through your throat when you’re suddenly flipped, thrown onto your back against your mattress and your legs pushed back towards your torso.

He climbs onto you and slides right back in, ignoring your cries of overstimulation as he harshly fucks into you, his hands placed against the mattress right next to your ribs on each side of your body.

You weakly crack your eyes open to glance up at him, your gaze shifting all over his face. The layer of sweat covering his forehead and nose, his bottom lip trapped in between his bunny teeth, his eyes staring deep into your fucking soul.

“Where… Where do you want me to cum?” he breathily asks, his hips aggressively recoiling against yours as his own orgasm approaches him rapidly.

“Fill me up until you pass out, Jungkook.” Your voice is hoarse at this point, cracking at the end of your sentence. He knows it’s nothing more than a figure of speech but it’s got his hips stuttering for a moment.

“Fuck, you’re so…” He can’t even finish his sentence as he’s finally releasing his load, shooting ropes of his cum straight into his best friend.

“Fuck,” he curses continuously as his thrusts get inconsistent. His head drops onto your shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as he moans softly with each sloppy thrust, the disgusting squelching of his cum being fucked into you rings louder than any alarm. After his climax has washed away, he finally collapses on top of you, face nuzzled in the crook of your neck.

You stay like that, staring up at the ceiling as tears roll down the sides of your face from the pleasure, overstimulation and sensitivity still pulsating in your veins.

After a few more moments, Jungkook quietly rolls off of you and tries to catch his breath.

You wipe your cheeks with the back of your hands and exhale deeply before whispering his name.

He opens his eyes and turns his head to you, humming softly in response.

“Thank you,” is all you can say.

He shakes his head and props himself up on his elbows as he glances at you. “Don’t thank me just yet. You said it can last up to 3 days, right?”

Your brows pinch together and your stomach bursts into flames. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’m not done with you yet.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

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[binniesbooks]

okay so here’s my request hehe.. i thought long and hard about this :>

alright so what about beomgyu (shocker) but he’s like your super rich (slightly older heh) boyfriend who loves loves loves to spoil you. so he buys the reader the most expensive and cutest piece of lingerie and has her try it on for him, ultimately leading to them fucking heh :>

soft dom beomgyu soft dom beomgyu soft dom beomgyu I BEG OF YOU 🙏

• LUXURY GIFTS

BG 001 .F23 2024

wc 3.6k

pairings richbf!beomgyu x spoiledgf!reader

warnings a lot of cursing, marking, unprotected sex, creampie. softdom!beomgyu (did i miss anything?)

faye's note this is my first ever fic in Tumblr and here's my 'lil reign with my first ever ask. Won't stop yapping abt her being my inspiration. I gave her the honor and I'm gladly dedicating this one to her with all my heart. I poured out my blood sweat and tears here. I even remember your tip that I must start light, AND FOR FUCK'S SAKE, THIS, IN WHATEVER SENSE, IS NO LIGHT AT ALL. FUCK. Enjoy I guess! ㅇㅅㅇ For so many times, I kept on rereading this, not wanting to disappoint anyone of my grammar. I think I still need to work on my writing style, my grammar and my mind itself. Goodness. I-i'm just gonna give it a shot, hehe-

Totally dedicated to the one and only, @beomiracles *bows down*

Beomgyu was a hard-working boyfriend. He had always been the most hard-working person you know. He was always busy working on something even at the premise of his very own house. You often teased him as a slave at work even though, he, basically owned the company where he was working at. He may be always busy but he always makes time when it comes to you. He never forgets every detail about you, your likes and dislikes, and does not even need to mark his calendar to remind himself about dates because he knows when. Beomgyu is not your average type of boyfriend. However, people mistook him as just a worker and not the owner. The humble aura he carried is what made people mistake him for one.

Being with him wasn’t easy. Because of his friendly and approachable attitude, girls tend to hit on him, and sometimes it gets on your nerves causing an argument between the two of you.

"What the hell was that?" You raise your voice as you harshly step down the stairs to the parking lot from the party you two are at.

"Baby, please, at least stop walking and listen to me, you might trip and hurt yourself". He tries to catch your hand as you swing it away from him.

"There were so many times, I've warned you not to get too close to people who are eye-fucking you", you faced him, brows meeting.

He sighed as he stepped closer and held your hand.

"Princess. I'm being extra careful, promise. I wasn't even expecting that she would do that, but I pushed her hands away, I swear" he genuinely apologized as he caressed your hand.

You close your eyes, about to speak again when he interrupts you. "I promise, that will never gonna happen again". He cupped your face as he looked at your eyes.

"One more time a girl tries to place their hand on whichever part of your body, I'm gonna cut their hands" you fumed as you tried to erase the memory of that girl trying to fix Beomgyu's necktie.

"Her actions were too unnecessary given the fact that you have a girlfriend" you muttered under your breath as he gave you a tight hug and kept on apologizing.

"Not my fault you're younger than me and they mistake you as my sibling instead" he teased.

You shove him as you glare at him saying, "Excuse me, a two-year difference is not that big?! Plus are you enjoying the fact that you are being touched by other girls?"

"Words, miss. We don't want you getting in trouble with you accusing me, yeah?" He holds your face closer to his with a smirk plastered on his face. "I'm not enjoying it. I just wanna tease you, pretty. You don't have a clue how many million times I explained to those people who are around us that we are a thing, not siblings." He sighed and kissed your forehead.

"Why don't we go do some shopping instead? What do you say? It's still early. We can buy everything you want." He smiled as he cupped your face once again coaxing you.

"Just because I am agreeing to this doesn't mean we are all good now", you glared at him. He chuckles at your actions as he opens the door of his car.

"Get in princess, I'm going to buy you lots of gifts," he gestured as you sat down in your seat. You watched him circle the car and enter the driver's seat. You sighed, it is never easy to have a good-looking, humble, and kind type of boyfriend.

He drove to the store where he always buys you gifts and luxuries. This was a normal occurrence between the two of you. Him being the target of every girl, you fuming, and Beomgyu spoiling you to make it up to you. It might sound like he is bribing you but he's not. He just really loves spoiling you. If possible, he won't allow you to spend a single cent. Claiming that he is the man and he must be responsible ever since the two of you started dating. But of course, you also sometimes stand your ground and 25% of the time, he accepts losing to you.

Another normal occurrence was that you would get a flower delivered to your place before you go to work, every single day. And of course, who did it come from other than your boyfriend who loves to spoil you? You even thought of planting a whole garden with how many flowers he kept sending you. If only you had cool hands that could keep the flowers alive after planting. From flowers to accessories, from dresses to footwear. Anything that your eyes laid upon, he buys it, with or without your permission.

One Saturday morning, you woke up with a ringing phone. You grabbed it and answered without checking the caller's ID.

"Hello? Who is this? The sun is barely up..." You talked with eyes still closed, voice becoming faint. You heard a chuckle on the other side of the line. The voice registered to your brain, it was Choi Beomgyu, your boyfriend.

"Good morning sleepy head, happy anniversary." He greeted with such joy in his voice. Your once sleepy mind and body were fully awake now as you scrambled to sit up face palming your face. Remember how you set your alarm the night before to wake up early and be the one to greet him first but you ended up switching your phone off every time the alarm rang.

"I'm sorry, love, I wanted to be the one who greeted you first-- my goodness." You exclaimed as you mentally punched your head.

He chuckles once again as he tried to cheer you up, "It's fine baby, I know you are tired from work, it's too early to be upset"

"Happy anniversary, Beomie, I love you." You smiled and tried to sound more positive.

"I love you, princess. Oh, by the way, can you come alone here later? I might not be able to pick you up, I still have a lot more to prepare. Plus I'm planning to cook."

"Mmm, will do, baby. Don't worry." You answered as you stood up from your bed and placed your phone between your shoulder and cheek to make your bed.

"Are you sure though? I can still pick you up, you know, plus it's still early. We're gonna meet at 6 in the evening. I can make time." He asked.

"Beomie, you don't have to worry, really. I'm gonna finish my chores first, might run to a store and buy something before going straight to your place". You assured back.

"Okay then. I'll see you this evening, love. I'll be at work. I love you, take care of yourself." You answered with a sweet hum and a smile as if he could see you before he dropped the call. Beomgyu has been calling you different pet names, which did not even bother you a single bit. His sweetness shows through the way he calls you. You were so used to it that whenever he did not call you any, you knew that he was angry.

After finishing all your tasks and chores, you had to clean yourself up. Standing in the middle of your dresser, deciding on what you will wear.

You've been pondering already for half an hour. Digging every corner of your cabinet to look for something special to wear. You can't disappoint Beomgyu, especially today. He loves to spoil you and you love to show it off especially when you are with him. Well, he tells you to dress pretty all the time. If you were his wife already, he would have considered you a trophy wife.

Within a few minutes, you decided to wear the silk red designer dress he had recently bought you. It hugged every corner of your curves the right way. Although he did spoil you with so many accessories and wardrobes, he was not a fan of heavy makeup. He likes it simple. After dabbing some face powder and a gloss on your lips, you were good to go.

You immediately get up, and grab your phone, the gift you ordered a few days ago, your purse, and your car key. You were still planning to drop by a store nearby to buy some wine for the special night.

It was 10 minutes before 6 when you arrived at his place. "Hi love, how are you?" You greeted him as you placed the wine on the table that you brought from the store before you rushed to his side.

"I'm good princess. Maybe a bit exhausted. I doubled my work for my pretty girl", he smiled as he removed the apron wrapped around his waist. Repositioning the folded sleeves of his dress shirt.

"I'm almost done here, why not take a seat?" He approached you and kissed you while giving you a tight hug. "You look pretty..." His fingers brushed along your cheeks when he pulled away to look at you. "Happy anniversary" he muttered once again. You smiled at him as you tiptoed and gave him a quick kiss. "Happy anniversary Beomie" you giggled.

He pulled the chair for you and made you sit down, "could you wait for a couple minutes more? I'm almost done. " You nod at him.

You shared the evening with sweet talks and love lingering between the two of you. Sharing the food he cooked and the wine you bought.

"I have a gift for you." You said joyfully as you placed the glass of wine carefully on the table. "It might not be much, since you have everything." You playfully roll your eyes as you push the small box in front of him.

"You can open it now." You said as you clasped your hands near your cheeks. Excitement can be easily heard from your voice.

He carefully unwrapped the gift as if almost scared to destroy it. His eyes widened at the gift you gave him.

"Love, you didn't have to." His eyes softened when he looked at you. It was a wristwatch. It was nothing compared to everything he bought you. But this particular one was hard to find. He couldn't find it in the stores you both often go to. He dislikes online shopping, saying it's too much of a hassle. So, you, as a loving girlfriend, patiently search every single online shop you know, just to find this watch.

"It's nothing compared to everything you have given me, Beom." You held his hand and looked at him lovingly. He smiled sweetly at you as he sighed in defeat.

Beomgyu has always been a big fan of extravagance and elegance, and tonight, he was eager to show it off again to you. He asked you to close your eyes as he stood up to grab the gift he bought. When you opened your eyes, a beautifully wrapped box sat invitingly on the table.

“Open it,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. You excitedly open the box. Inside, you found the most exquisite lingerie—a lingerie that shimmered softly, and you bet it wouldn't cover you fully.

Your eyes are wide as you stutter to talk to him.

"L-love, what...what is this?" This is the lingerie your eyes always laid upon whenever you go to that one place with Beomgyu. You just always smile at yourself every time you see this, shaking off the naughty ideas building in your mind. But to hold it with your own hands, to be gifted it to you as your own, it makes you so shy.

“Try it on for me,” he urged, his excitement palpable. He crossed his arms on his chest as he stared at you, a smirk, once again, plastered on his face. You felt a rush of anticipation as you headed to his bedroom, slipping into the lingerie. Staring at your reflection in the mirror. Unsure if you want to go out and face him. Your cheeks show a visible bright hue of pink, and your ears red.

Beomgyu was the one to follow you when you did not show. Beomgyu’s expression was one of pure admiration. “Wow,” he breathed, stepping closer. “You look breathtaking.” The red lingerie is barely covering your chest, you are thankful that there was a free mini skirt cut of the lingerie that can cover you below.

He circled you slowly, taking in every detail, before leaning in to whisper, “Fuck, it fits you perfectly." He tucks your hair on the back of your ear. Your ears burn hot with embarrassment and with the sensation. Yes, you've been with Beomgyu for a while but you haven't taken it to the next level, aside from heavy make-outs of course, that's why you feel so small and embarrassed in front of him.

He made you face the big mirror again, as he stood at your back. He gently placed his arms on your neck. You couldn't help but whimper at how you looked. You shut your eyes as you felt a shiver down your spine.

"Fuck." He cursed once more, almost unheard. "Don't make a sound like that, sweetheart. I might not be able to control myself." He places his other hand on your waist, taking a dip where your neck and shoulder blades meet as he inhales your scent. "You smell so sweet."

"Beomgyu, please..." You can feel yourself trembling in his hands. He pulls away, making you frown a little bit. He walked towards the bed as he sat down on the edge.

"C'mere." He taps on his lap as you walk towards him. You swear you heard him mutter 'fuck's' and 'shit's' under his breath. You sat on his lap as he held your waist, letting his lips crash on yours. You clawed on his chest for the sensation you are feeling. The kiss he's giving you is careful but needy, gentle but hot. You both pull away, lips swollen, and steam can be felt between the two of you.

"Please tell me to stop now. I can't afford to hurt you." He closed his eyes as he tried to ground himself. With mustered-up courage, you slowly got off of him and started to get down instead.

"Sweetheart, I'm warning you." He tried to warn you as he held your wrist. You shook your head. "I've been dying to do this to you, Beomie". You stared up at him as you slowly unbuckled his belt.

"Fuck, please..." He bit his lips. Still trying to control himself. You raise his dress shirt a bit, enough for his abdomen to show.

You slowly stroke him when he finally lets go of your wrist.

"Ah! Shit- love, fuck." You can see how his abdomen clenches at the sensation. You lowered your head, giving him kitten licks, testing the waters, tasting his pre-cum. He held your hair, not enough to hurt you but enough to take control. He tried to lower your head more, making his tip be fully shoved into your mouth.

"Fucking hell. You look so pretty." He loosens his grip on your hair and carefully caresses your face, as you lean on his hand. He voluntarily removed the buttons of his shirt discarding it at the bedside.

His hands moved back to your head once again as he pushed you down a bit more making you whimper. He cursed once again as he felt the vibrating sensation from your mouth. "Are you okay?" He checks you. Only for him to moan again as you hum on his cock in your mouth. Once he knows you got used to him, he controls the moment of your head, making you clench on nothing. You are guessing he is almost coming undone when his voice gets a bit higher in pitch.

"Fuck, stop right there." He commanded, making you stop your movement. He pulled you up to kiss you once again, this time a bit more aggressive than the first one. He pulled away, only to press his thumb on your lips. "Hot.." you muttered, before sucking on his thumb. The action got Beomgyu reeling as his remaining self-control slipped out.

He made you stand up and lay down on the bed as he discarded his pants. You were not expecting him to go down on you but he is Beomgyu. The guy who always puts you first. The guy who always took care of you first instead of himself. His fingers swiftly removed the newly bought lingerie,

You trembled when you felt his tongue lap onto your cunt. He gripped your waist to stop you from squirming away from him.

"Beomgyu! Ah fuck! Fuck it feels so good!" The voice came out strained. He hums and looks up at you as he rubs a circular motion on your sensitive nub.

"Please, please Beomgyu! I-i'm gonna cum!" Your eyes well up with tears. As you beg him, unsure of what, you chant him as many please as your mouth can say.

He tasted a salty-sweet taste on his tongue as you come undone, fucking his tongue in and out of you as you ride your high.

"Give me one more, love, I know you can." He said as he once more made you cum on his tongue.

"You tasted so sweet. I might be addicted to your taste, damn."He mutters as he hovers over you, littering your neck with dark red and purplish marks. You tried to grind on him which he immediately felt and smiled.

"Never thought you'd be this eager. I should've bought that lingerie a long time ago if I only knew." He chuckled as he pressed a deep kiss on your still-swollen lips.

He supported his body up with his arms. Your eyes watched how his muscles flexed on both of his arms. You can't help but hold on to it knowing what is happening next.

"Should we stop, love? I have no condoms prepared. I really didn't know we were taking it up to-"

"Please take me raw." Your eyes pleading. You held his arms tighter. He stared at your love bites- littered body as he bit his lips.

"If you ask me like that, how can I even say no?". He held your cheeks for a while before totally discarding his boxers. "Tell me if it's too much and we'll stop. I want to ruin you but I don't wanna hurt you, darling." He sincerely said as he lined himself up at your entrance.

You never felt a sensation this good before. His raw flesh drags inside you slowly. "More. I can take it" you assured, shaking off the stretching pain you are feeling.

"Please tell me the truth. I think I'm hurting you, baby." He worries. You hug him closer as you ask him to fully push in. "Please push it in more, Beom. I need more.." you muttered, cock drunk, fucked out.

He can't help but to bit his lip and bottom out in you as he stared at your fucked out expression. "Fuckin' tight. You feel so good, wrapping around my cock, baby." He smirked at you. You avoided his gaze out of embarrassment as

"I'll start moving." He announced still staring at you as he slowly moved in and out. You are now a whimpering and a moaning mess in front of him. The pretty girl who once was pretty in his eyes when angry is now all fucked out. Unable to form coherent words as whimpers, whines, and moans are the only thing that comes out of your mouth.

"Ahh! Shit love, please stop clenching on me or I might cum inside you!" With a warning tone, he tries to stop you. But every time you hear him curse, you heard him moan as if on cue, as you were clenching on his cock. You can't help yourself but clench on him some more.

"I'm.. fuck.. fuck! Fuck Beomgyu! Oh god!" You were squirming under him, feeling every bit of his cock drag in your insides. It's giving you too much sensation you couldn't handle.

"Come on my cock then. Show me how much you love me, baby. Show me how much you can do for me." He himself can't help but move faster inside you with his high nearing.

You clawed on his arms making him wince as you come undone on his cock, body shaking, he held you closer as he fucks you more into your high, his white thick cum painting your walls. "Shit!" He exclaimed as his ears rang when he pushed more inside, making your lips quiver and your eyes shut close.

A few more seconds when he calmed down from his high he pulled out of you. Almost ran to the bathroom to grab a wet towel. In everything, he puts you first, cleaning you more than himself. He grabbed a shirt from his closet and made you slip it on to make you feel comfortable. He picked up his pants to wear them again as he laid beside you.

You mouthed 'Happy anniversary, love' before you buried your face in the crook of his neck. He chuckled as he pulled you closer and hugged you as he tucked you both under the blanket. Allowing you and himself to dive deep in sleep.

'This was a better gift than the watch, I guess', he thinks to himself.

@binniesbooks 2024

[tkwrites]

Five Days of Joy

Gif from neekshq

Title: Five Days of Joy

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Summary: Sarah joins Quinn at his family reunion. There’s laughter and tears and some spicy time as they sneak time alone. Sarah bonds with Jim over the loss of their mothers and explains why her dad loved Costco so much. She and Ellen bond over their partners being gone for stretches of time. A black bikini has Quinn practically drooling. The whole family goes on a beach adventure with Sarah in the lead. More than anything else, Quinn and Sarah fall more and more in love. 

Warnings: Smut (18+ Only!) There are 3.5 sex scenes spread throughout this piece: Unprotected sex - p in v (wrap it up unless you’re in a consenting relationship!), Oral & Fingering (m & f receiving), car sex, semi public sex if you squint, Angst and Fluff. Really, we’re going through the whole gamut here. 

Word Count: 16,400

Comments: This took an incredibly long time to write. Mostly because it's incredibly long. The longest fic I've written to date. I had so many days to encompass into this piece. There were several times when I thought a day was going to be quite simple, but the story demanded more.

I love the way it turned out and hope you enjoy it!

If you did, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

Anonymous asked: i cant wait to see sarah come to the family reunion

Anonymous asked: omg the famiyl reunion and all the little cousins immediately loving sarah and her siting on the floor with them just playing and quinn watching with a love sick look

Anonymous asked: sarah coming to the lake house for the first time and being so exicted to see the water life there and all different living things and quinn is just sitting and walking with her as she looks at everything! did that make sense? idkkk

Anonymous asked: I've thought about Sarah taking some of Quinns cousins on a little adventure on the coast wading through tidepools during the family reunion. I think this would fit what you're thinking of a little more. 💜 AWWWW! yes this is even better!

nicenamebutitsalreadytaken asked: Some fic ideas…. #2: more Ellen and Sarah girl time! I loved their talks while they got pedis! #3: Jim and Sarah bonding over the loss of parents. Jim filling some sort of fatherly void in Sarah’s life. I know she’s too old for a father-daughter dance, but something of that vibe.

I feel like there were more asks that are being answered in this, but in looking through them, I couldn't find more.

Five Days of Joy

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Day 1 (The Arrival):

Quinn reached over to squeeze her knee as they pulled up to the cabin. Okay, so it was more of a house, but for all intents and purposes, to his family, it was a cabin.

“Ready?” he asked. 

She pulled a deep breath into her lungs and nodded. 

At the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway, his cousins came running from the backyard, all lined up and clamoring for a front row view of Sarah’s arrival.  

“I’m sorry about this,” he said, glancing over at them. 

“About what?” 

“My cousins. They’re all really excited to meet you.”

“That’s sweet,” she said, glancing over at them. 

“They can just be a little much.”

She shrugged, “they can’t be any worse than my nieces were to you.” 

Ellen watched from the porch as Quinn laughed in the driver's seat of the car. It wasn’t that he was depressed without Sarah here, but he seemed a little looser with her beside him — quicker with a smile and a laugh. She hoped he would be a little more forgiving now that Sarah had finally arrived. Quinn always had a bit of a temper, but it seemed like she soothed some of it down. 

They got out of the car and Andrew’s kids jostled to the front of the crowd, bouncing off of and hitting each other in a way that was so reminiscent of her own boys, it made Ellen choke up a little. 

Walking around the front of the SUV, as Quinn pulled her bag from the back, Sarah waved. Even after a day of travel across the country by plane and then a two hour drive, her smile was still genuine. 

The smallest of the cousins, Nova, ran to Sarah right away. She didn’t miss a beat, squatting down to gather the five year old into her arms. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Nova! What’s yours?” 

“My name is Sarah. I like your dress.” 

“Thanks,” she said, swinging her hips as she pulled on the skirt of her striped dress printed with balooga whales. 

She ran back to her sisters, telling them in a whisper that could be heard from the next township, “she’s really pretty.” 

Laughing, Ellen stepped off the porch and gathered Sarah into a hug “I’m so glad you could come.”

“Thank you for inviting me. It’s so beautiful here,” she said as Quinn walked up and took her hand. “I’ve never been to New Hampshire.”

Introductions were made, at least 50 of them. The hardest thing for Sarah to keep track of was how everyone was related. Both Jim and Ellen’s siblings were there, as well as some friends that seemed like they were basically family. All of them were staying in houses rented nearby. On the drive, Quinn told her this was the first year they were bringing both families together. It just so happened that both were planning reunions over the 4th, so when Quinn’s parents suggested they all come together, everyone had agreed. 

“I hope it’s not too overwhelming,” one of his aunts said. 

“My mom is one of nine, so it can’t be any more confusing than my family,” Sarah assured.

“Well,” Ellen said, picking up one of her bags, “lets get you settled in.” 

Once everyone got over the novelty of her, Sarah excused herself to shower, saying she needed to “wash off the plane smell.” 

“You ready?” Ellen asked, finding Quinn in the front room, reading. 

“For what?” he asked at the same time she wondered, “where’s Sarah?” 

“The store,” she reminded. “We’re all going to make sure everyone gets what they want?”

“Oh, shit I’m sorry, mom,” Quinn said, “I completely forgot. Sarah’s in the shower.” 

Glancing at her watch, Ellen wondered if they could wait. 

“Just go. We’ll go later if we need to. I don’t want to leave her here alone.” 

His mom gave him a knowing glance and asked, “is there anything she really likes?” 

“Peppered turkey if you’re getting lunch meat,” he said, “and hot Cheetos if you’re getting chips.” 

Noting them on the shopping list, Ellen asked, “Cereal?” 

“She really likes raisin bran.” 

“Seriously?” 

He shrugged, “she has it all the time.” 

“Okay. Don’t have too much fun while we’re gone.” 

Rolling his eyes, Quinn mumbled that they wouldn’t and watched them pile into the cars and drive away.

By the time he’d waited to make sure no one was turning back, Sarah appeared in the doorway. “Where is everyone?” 

“The store. Mom wanted us all to go together, but I forgot.” If he weren’t so excited to be alone in the house with Sarah, he would call his mom to come pick them up. They couldn’t be far down the road. 

“Oh.” Guilt twisted at her stomach.

“It’s fine,” he assured, “we can go tomorrow if we need to.” 

 “That’s not really the same thing,” she said as she walked to the couch.

“It’s okay,” he assured. “My mom still loves you.”

She flopped onto the couch next to him and took his hand. She missed these simple things - the ease of touching him and the comfort of having him near. 

“I missed you,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder. 

“I missed you too,” he agreed, turning to press a kiss into her hair. 

It was so nice to just be close to her. This summer had to be this way, but it didn’t make missing her any easier. 

The longer they stayed pressed close to each other, the warmer she got. Not only from his furnace-like body heat, but also his smell and the feel of his solid, muscular chest under her shoulder. An insistent want to really feel him was growling deep in her. 

“What are you doing?” Quinn asked as Sarah climbed into his lap. 

Knees bracketing his hips, she settled on his thighs. “I thought that was obvious,” she said, tossing her hair over one shoulder and leaning in to kiss him. 

“Should we go upstairs?” 

“Want it now,” she whispered against his mouth.

“What if they come home?” he mumbled before their kiss could ignite. A trip to the grocery store wasn’t a short thing with their family, but with all of them together, he imagined they’d try to get out as soon as possible.  

“Just wanna make out for a while,” she said, lips feather light over his mouth. “We can have sex tonight.”

Quinn groaned, sinking fully into the kiss in a way he hadn’t yet allowed. It was difficult for him to convince himself to come up for air when they kissed like this, and letting that loose while his whole extended family was in the house wasn’t the best idea. 

“We have to keep this PG,” she said, moving his hands from where they were pushing her shirt up. 

“Why?” he whined. 

“Because your family is coming home. And who knows when they'll be back. I, for one, don't want to face your grandpa with my chest out because you couldn't wait."

“Which is why we should go upstairs,” he argued. 

“Just kiss me, Quinn.”

He obeyed, and as he pulled her hips flush to his own, decided he could wait until that night.   

“Jack, can you go in first and make sure Q isn’t doing something indecent?” 

Jack wrinkled his nose, “ew! Mom, no!” 

“Go,” she hissed, “they haven’t seen each other in three weeks. I don’t want one of the kids to walk in on them accidentally if they got carried away.”

“If they’re having sex in the front room, they deserve to be caught.”

“Jack, just go,” she said, leveling him with an exasperated stare. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Upon entering the house, he found Sarah on top of his brother on the front room couch. They were, thankfully, fully clothed, but Quinn had a handful of her hair and a handful of her ass as they kissed. Sarah took a deep kissing breath. He could see her tongue, see the blissed set of Quinns features. He found himself smiling, glad that Quinn had finally found a girl to put up with him.

It was probably messed up, but this was the first time he’d found Sarah at all attractive. He felt pretty indifferent about her generally, but appreciated that she made Quinn happy and was willing to try with their crazy, extended family. Now, seeing Quinn hold her brought up torturous memories of Madeline - of feeling her curves and the solid weight on top of him.

One of his cousins came running up the front walk, and the sound of her sandals slapping against the concrete brought Jack back to the task at hand.

“Family’s home!” he yelled before Ellie got inside. 

Shocked, they sprang apart as if caught naked or robbing a bank. Sarah backed away so quickly that her calves hit the coffee table, and she plopped down on it to save herself from falling over. She wiped her mouth, and Quinn pulled a pillow onto his lap. They were looking everywhere but at each other. 

“Sarah,” Ellie asked, running into the room, “Sarah, did you put on lipstick?” 

Her hand went to her mouth, eyes wide as she finally looked at Quinn, who blushed. 

Jack laughed some more. “Nah,” he said, ruffling her hair, “that’s just what happens when the whole family has to go to the store to give you time to get it on.”

Sarah rolled her eyes and finally stood, adjusting her shirt. “We were not getting it on.” 

“Looked like it to me,” Jack said with a shrug. 

"Then you are watching the wrong kind of videos, my friend.” 

Quinn barked out a laugh, and Jack felt his cheeks flame at being razzed by her. He didn't know she had it in her.

After a long dinner filled with grilled steak and chicken and an enormous amount of laughter, Quinn felt even more sure of Sarah. He melted a little each time she caught on to his family's humor, and it seemed everyone loved her. At one point, his grandpa had even elbowed him in the ribs with a conspiratorial quirk of his eyebrows when they were at the food table together.

Later on, he found himself playing games with Sarah and some of his cousins' kids. The kids had begged her to join them, and she went happily. Unwilling to leave her side now that she was here, he joined in, too.  

“Can you show me all the fish?” Nova asked. 

“Of course,” Sarah said, “The next time you come to Vancouver, I’ll give you a tour. I can probably even get you backstage to meet Walter.”

“You’ve never offered to take me backstage,” Quinn said, his tone teasingly hurt. 

“I didn’t know you were interested,” she teased, “Nova obviously wants to see the fish.”

“Yeah, Q,” Nova said, sticking her tongue out at him, “I care about the fish.” 

Quinn laughed but wondered why Sarah felt like he wasn’t interested in what she did. Was he giving off the wrong impression?

“Do you think Walter will like me?” Nova asked. 

“I don’t know. He can be pretty picky about people. When you meet him, he’ll touch your hand with his tentacles,” she slowly wrapped her fingers around Nova’s arm to demonstrate. “Octopus use their suckers to suss out who’s good and bad.” 

Mia looked fascinated but horrified, “what?” 

“Yeah, they use them to taste and feel, and they can usually tell if they don’t like someone just by touching their skin.” 

“Did Walter like you right away?” Quinn asked. He’d never thought of it before. He had to like Sarah. She worked with him so much, they had to get along. 

“He was a little shy, but I kept coming back to do research, and eventually, he started to warm up to me.” 

“Can we see fish here?” Mia asked. 

Sarah glanced at Quinn, “we’re going to the beach, right?” 

He nodded, “on Friday, I think.” 

“I don’t know that we’d be able to see much in terms of snorkeling. It's mostly boring stuff out here - lobsters and fish for eating. It’s too cold for most of the fun stuff.” Mia looked instantly crestfallen, and Sarah continued, “but there’s always interesting stuff in tide pools. I’ll see if I can find us some to explore.” 

Mia beamed for the first time since they’d arrived. Since she’d turned 12, she’d been a bit moody and sulky in that teen way, wanting to hang out with her friends rather than spend the week with her family. Sarah taking her interests seriously obviously meant a lot to her.

“Quinn, there's no lock on this door,” Sarah said that evening as she closed it behind her before crawling into bed.

“So?”

“So anyone — your mom, your grandpa, one of your cousins — could just walk in.”

“They won't without knocking.”

As if on cue, the door flew open. “Is Mason in here?” It was one of Quinn's aunts. Or a friend who was basically an aunt? It was hard to keep track of who was actually related. 

“Nope,” Sarah said. 

“Oh, I’m sorry you two,” she said. “I hope I didn't interrupt anything.” 

Quinn gave her a tight smile, and she got the hint, closing the door softly behind her. 

Sarah arched an eyebrow in Quinn's direction as if to say, see? What did I tell you? 

“What does it matter if there’s no lock,” he asked, rolling on top of her, “we have to be quiet anyway.”

“We can’t have sex in here, Quinn,” she said. 

“Why not?” 

“As much as I want you to fuck me into tomorrow —” 

Burying his face in her neck, he groaned loudly as if the very prospect was painful to him.

“We can’t. Not when someone might walk in. What if one of the kids came in? We’d scar them for life.” 

He lifted his head and pouted, giving her his best begging eyes. “This is why I wanted to go upstairs before,” he said, trying to keep the whine out of his voice. 

“How was I supposed to know a bunch of kids would be sleeping in the family room across the hall?” she hissed, “or that there’s no lock on your door.” 

He knew she was right, but god, he couldn’t believe they were finally together and they couldn’t even have sex. 

“I think we could…” her voice trailed off at the same time her hand slipped between them to cup him over his pajama pants. 

“Don’t tease,” he said, jaw clenched. 

“I’m not teasing,” she said coyly. 

“Touching my dick when you won’t have sex feels like you’re being a pretty big fuckin’ tease to me.” 

“Just because we can’t have sex doesn’t mean I can’t get you off.” Her voice was a seductive whisper in his ear. 

He let out a kind of groaned whimper, tucking his face into her neck again. Fuck this room and it’s stupid fucking door without a stupid fucking lock. 

Her other hand guided his mouth back to hers. He was immediately swept up. He wanted to kiss every inch of her. 

Shivers coursed through her as Quinn’s lips trailed up to her ear. 

“I can’t stop thinking about the way you taste,” he whispered,  banking on the idea that she might loosen up a little if he got his mouth on her. Emphasizing his point, he lowered his lips to her neck, kissing and licking. 

As heat engulfed her, his name came out in a desperate whine. “That’s not fair.” 

When they were apart, it was fairly easy to pretend her own fingers were his, or her vibrator was his cock — they weren’t really the same, but her imagination could make up the difference — but nothing could simulate the feel of his mouth on her. She’d told him this just the week before when they were having phone sex while her roommates were both gone for the evening.

“Who said anything about playing fair?” Quinn asked, quirking his eyebrows. 

Her eyes darted to the door, listening as footsteps grew louder, then faded in the other direction. When she looked back at him, he was sliding down her body, his hands slipping up her thighs under her sleep shirt. 

“Quinn,” she admonished. 

“I can stay under the covers,” he said, winking as he lifted the blanket over his head. 

God, she wanted it so bad. 

“What if Nova came in?” she asked, trying to reason.

“Nova’s staying in a different house,” he reminded. They’d left at 10, her dad, Quinn’s cousin Andrew, carrying the little girl who’d fallen asleep right at the card table. 

Sarah made a frustrated noise and lifted the covers to look at him, “Quinn you know what I mean. Stop playing dirty.” 

A wicked grin took over his face, “this,” he traced a finger over her underwear that she knew were already damp, “would suggest you like when I play dirty.” 

She threw an arm over her eyes, “if someone walks in, you get to be the one giving an explanation, then.”

“I think my mouth is going to be otherwise occupied.” 

A keening, needy noise left her lips.

When he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her underwear, he paused, waiting for permission. As much as he wanted to do this, he wasn’t going to force her into anything. If she wanted to wait, he would. Begrudgingly, but he would. 

Sarah took a deep breath, her mind whirring and warring. Eventually, the side of her that wanted to make a good impression on his family won out. “I really, really want to, Q,” she said, “but —”

The resigned tone of her voice told him exactly how this was going to end. Sighing, he rested his forehead on her stomach. 

“I just… your whole family is in the house. It feels too…” 

If he thought with his brain and not his dick, he understood what she was getting at. It would be extremely awkward if anyone walked in on them. He wouldn’t put Sarah through that. 

“Yeah,” he said, flopping into the bed next to her. 

“But like I said, just because we can’t have sex doesn’t mean I can’t get you off,” she said, running a hand slowly up his thigh. 

Quinn wasn’t entirely sure how getting a handjob from her was all that different than just having sex. The bed would probably squeak less, he supposed, but it would still be awkward if someone walked in. They’d go for a drive the next night, he decided, if they didn’t get the chance to be alone before then. 

Her other hand slipped into his hair, nudging his mouth to hers. 

Even though it wasn’t exactly what he wanted, feeling her fall apart around his fingers while she stroked him and panted into his mouth was still heavenly. 

Day 2 (The Black Bikini):

The next morning, Quinn was talking with Luke when Sarah came out of the house, holding a jug of orange juice as she talked and laughed with his aunt. 

“I think it’s a…” he trailed off, the thought he’d been explaining evaporating completely the moment he saw her bikini. 

It made her look unbelievable - curvy and supple. The black cut beautiful shapes against her skin, and a shiny silver U linked the two halves together between her breasts. The high waistband of the bottoms peeking over the top of her undone denim shorts finished driving him out of his fucking mind.  She even had her hair in a braided ponytail, just like he liked. God, he wanted to put his mouth all over her.

Luke turned to follow his gaze and said, "Whoa."

"Yeah," he breathed before realizing and smacking his brother upside the head. "That's my girlfriend, dick." It felt so good at that moment to call her his. 

Luke held up his hands in surrender, "I'm not even interested in her, man. But if Ky wore a suit like that…" he trailed off, knowing better than to voice whatever he was thinking. 

She walked up the steps to the sundeck then, and he felt breathless with wanting. The metal U winked at him with every step she took. Somehow, she looked even better up close. 

Luke got up, mumbling something about needing to find someone. Sarah didn't catch who. 

She stopped next to Quinn's sun lounger and looked down, shielding her eyes from the bright morning sun. “Do I not get a good morning kiss?” 

He'd left to run around the lake with Jack, Luke, and Brendan before she'd gotten up that morning. She so rarely got to sleep in, he didn't wake her, despite the possibility of getting a few minutes alone before he had to leave.

He shook his head, “can't stand.” 

“What? Why? Did you hurt yourself?” 

He shook his head and glanced down, hoping she'd catch on. 

She followed his gaze, her mouth falling into an O as her cheeks went pink, which made it so much worse. God, why did she have to be so cute, too? 

She sat on the edge of his lounger, and he reached for her, gathering her against him, her back to his front. He wanted to hold her and also needed to cover exactly how excited this swimsuit made him.

She’d expected to lean back and feel his semi against her. Instead, he was hard and hot, fully turned on in a way he didn’t often get just from looking at her. Glancing over her shoulder, one of her eyebrows quirked.

“You come out here in this bikini when I haven't had you properly in nineteen days and expect me to just be normal about it?”

“Nineteen days?” she repeated. She knew it had been over two weeks, but she wasn't keeping a tally.

“I'm serious, Sarah,” he said, voice pained. “Do you have any idea how hot you look? How much you're driving me crazy?”

“I think I might,” she said, tracing a finger over his thigh, following the hem of his running briefs, exposed where his exercise shorts rucked up. 

He was acutely aware of her touch, of everyone around them, of her body heat seeping through his shirt and of just how much of her skin was exposed. His muscles twitched. 

“You're a tease, you know that?” 

“I'm a tease? You're the one out here all sweaty in these little shorts,” she countered as the tip of her finger traced under the elastic, “Your thighs out for everyone to see.”

That knocked him a little breathless. He knew she found him attractive. She often told him how handsome he was, but this kind of lusty wanting felt new. He sputtered.

“We could always go inside and lock ourselves in the bathroom,” she offered, her voice light and conversational, as her not-so-innocent touch trailed to his inner thigh. 

He made a noise in his throat as his body went to war with his brain. “You wouldn’t have sex in bed last night, but you’re fine with the bathroom today?” he asked, more confused than incredulous. 

“The bathroom has a lock. I guess it might be a little weird if someone saw us come out, though.” 

Quinn was struck with a vision of one of his cousins knocking on the door and how embarrassing it would be to have to walk out together, caught red-handed. Surely, his family knew how much he missed her, but there was only so far that understanding could go.

“Yeah.” Taking a deep breath, he mentally prepared himself for another day of wanting. If they couldn’t steal some time alone that day, he’d take a car and make a place for them to be alone. 

“I should go shower before breakfast,” he said, pressing a few quick kisses to her neck before darting into the house, hoping no one was paying too much attention.

All day, Quinn felt possessive of her in a way he usually didn’t.

More than once, he’d pulled her into his lap as she walked by. It wasn’t that he thought his cousins were going to do anything. He knew they wouldn’t, and he knew Sarah would never, but he had this basic, neanderthal-ish need to let everyone know that she’d chosen him. 

Every time he thought he was cool and didn’t need to remind everyone of their relationship, he’d catch someone checking her out, and it would rear up again, demanding to get his hands on her. She lets me touch her like this, the caveman inside him roared each time he did it. She likes me enough to let me do this.

Each time it happened, and Sarah suddenly ended up in Quinn’s lap, she laughed, chocking it up to finally being together after being apart for so long. To be fair, she didn’t want to go very long without touching him, either. 

“Let the girl breathe, Quinn,” his dad teased when it happened for the sixth time, “Jesus.” 

“I think it’s sweet,” his sister admonished. “Don’t you remember being that in love? I remember when Ellen had you that smitten.” 

“I do remember that, but I wasn’t ever as clingy as this guy, was I?” he asked, pointing at Quinn, who was busying himself threading his fingers through Sarah’s belt loops. 

“Oh, you were. You don’t remember mom telling you she’d never marry you if you didn’t give her some space to think?” 

Jim laughed, his face splitting into a broad grin, even as heat flooded into his cheeks. “I’d forgotten about that. That was some good advice. Ellen told me later she was thinking about breaking up with me because I was getting too clingy.”

He glanced at Sarah, only for her to give him a weak smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

Times like this, it always hurt to remember her mom wasn’t around to give sage advice and tease her about her new beau. She often wondered, even after her siblings and uncle had met him, how her parents would react to Quinn and to their relationship. The fact that she would never really know strangled her insides. 

Reaching over, Jim squeezed her hand, a sad, knowing look on his face. He knew what a smile like that meant. “It was pretty terrible when mom couldn’t be there for Luke’s birth,” he said. “I know it’s not the same, but we’ve been there too.”

She gave him that same, sad smile, “thanks.” 

Jim’s sister glanced between them, then seemed to remember. “Oh, sweetie,” she stood up and came to Sarah, giving her a hug. 

Even though it was awkward with her sitting down and Quinn still holding her waist, the intended comfort still came through. “Thank you,” she said, wiping a few rogue tears from her eyes. 

Quinn wound his arms around her waist to pull her flush against him so he could be the one she could lean on. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and brushed a kiss to her jaw. 

“I know when our mom died, I just wanted someone to give me a hug all the time. My husband started calling me a koala,” she said, laughing lightly. “Anyway,” she waved a hand in front of her face, “I just mean to say that if you need a hug, I’m always here.” 

It was incredibly kind. Though Sarah knew she would go to Quinn or Ellen or even Jim first, just because she knew them more, it was still wonderfully thoughtful. 

“I can’t imagine your parent’s wouldn’t be anything but thrilled to see how in love you two are,” she said. 

In a way, it was kind of a throw-away thing to say. She’d never met Sarah’s parents, but, Sarah supposed, she was a parent herself and knew something of raising children. 

“I know we sure are,” Jim said, squeezing her knee. 

“Thanks. I just really miss her, you know?” More emotion than she’d been expecting choked her voice. She leaned into Quinn, glad for his solid embrace.

Jim nodded, “of course.”

“But more than that, I miss the potential. Like, I don't get to know what she or my dad thinks of Quinn or how they feel about my degree.”

“Well, I think I can say that they’d be incredibly proud of you for your degree,” Jim said, “I'm proud of you, and you're not even my daughter.”

Quinn hoped that one day she might be something close.  

“And you know, Quinn won't get to know them,” Sarah continued, the thoughts bubbling up now that the cap had been blown off. “He won’t get to hear my mom laugh or go on a wild trip to Costco with us.”

“Costco?” Quinn repeated. 

“My dad loved Costco,” she said, her voice taking on a dreamy, nostalgic tone. “It was a whole family affair. Every second Saturday. You better keep the evening free, cause we all had to go together. Even after my brother got married, he and Lucy still came with us.”

“Why Costco?”

“Part of it’s because both of my parents grew up in such big families. My dad’s one of 6 and mom’s one of 9. But I think he just liked that you can get such a huge variety of stuff there. He always liked to find the new things, and he felt very passionately about Costco hot dogs.”

Quinn snorted. 

“Almost every gift he ever gave came from Costco.” 

“Like what?” Quinn asked, trying to keep her talking. He loved seeing these snapshots of her family. If he wouldn’t get the chance to meet them, at least he could understand a little more through her memories. 

“One time,” she adjusted to sit sideways in his lap so she could see his face, “he bought me an enormous bag of hot Cheetos for my birthday.” 

He snorted. 

“Don’t make fun. It was a very practical gift. He even printed this big label and stuck it on it that said,” she had to pause to control her giggles, “Sar-Bear’s mouth-killer birthday chips. Touch or die.” 

A laugh sputtered out of his mouth. 

“He got me my first golf clubs at Costco. And,” she emphasized the point by poking him in the shoulder, “he once built a rocket made entirely of stuff he bought at Costco.” 

“A rocket?” Jim repeated, surprised.

“Yeah, he designed rockets for a living and wanted to do it to prove that he could. He uploaded this ridiculous video to Facebook and tagged Costco in it. They gave him a free membership for a year. He said it was the fifth best day of his life.”

“Fifth?” Jim’s sister asked. 

“After his wedding and the birth of his kids.” 

“Can we see the video?” Quinn asked. 

She had family photos on a pinboard above her desk, and he’d seen a ton more when they visited her siblings. He knew she had her dads smile and her mothers eyes. But it was different seeing someone in motion. 

Digging her phone out of her pocket, Sarah said, “I’m not sure his profile is still active… I think he might have tagged me in it.” 

Glancing at his dad, Quinn found the older man looking at him with this proud, approving look on his face. It was a rare thing to get from Jim, and he was most often on the receiving end of it at the ice rink. It was nice to get it away from hockey. 

“Here,” she said, handing Quinn her phone. The screen was cracked in the corner.

His dad and aunt moved to huddle around his chair, and he played the video. 

Her dad, Michael, who was tall and reedy and wore wire rimmed glasses, introduced himself and went through an overenthusiastic explanation of where every part of the rocket came from in the store, and why he chose it, making sure to highlight what was on a special deal that month. He then assembled it with a younger Sarah’s help. Her hair was shorter, cut into a bob that hit around the middle of her neck, and she had braces. 

Quinn paused the video, “how old are you here?”

She took the phone back from him so she could look at the date. “I’d just turned twenty-one.” 

“You still had braces at 21?” 

“I had them twice,” she explained with a self-deprecating eye roll. “I didn’t wear my retainer the first time, so I had to get them again when I went to college.” 

“I think you look cute,” he said. 

“Yeah, because nothing says, ‘hey, I’m old enough to drink’ like having braces.”

They all laughed, and his dad reached forward to start the video again. 

The rocket was finished and shot off. It flew much higher than Quinn expected. “Woah.”

“And that,” her dad said, hands on his hips as he turned back to the camera, “is how you launch into a new month of Costco savings.”

“Oh my god,” Sarah exclaimed off camera. “You’re such a dad!” 

“Good thing I am one, then,” he said, pointing at her with finger guns and a wink. 

Ellen came over at their laughter, “what’s going on here?” 

“We were just watching a video of Sarah’s dad.” 

“Oh,” she tucked herself between her husband and sister-in-law, “I’d like to see that.” 

The fact that they all were interested in getting to know her parents in this way eased a bit of the grief from its strangling hold around Sarah’s heart. As Quinn restarted the video, his free hand moved to her leg and squeezed her knee. 

She glanced down at him, a thankful smile on her face. 

After an afternoon on the docks and another raucous dinner on the lawn, Quinn grabbed a set of keys from one of the hooks in the kitchen. 

“We're going for a drive,” he announced, pulling Sarah toward the front door with their clasped hands. 

His parents and aunts and uncles shared some knowing glances from their place around the dining table, and a smile he knew wasn't going to end well took over his mom's face. 

“Have fun!” she called out. “Use protection!”

“Lay down a towel!” someone else chimed in. 

“Sarah, don't be afraid to put him in his place!”

He felt his ears get hot. It didn't matter how casual he tried to be, they knew exactly what they were up to. 

Sarah pulled him off his determined course to go into the garage. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Getting a towel. That's a smart idea. I don't want to ruin whoever’s car this is.”

He laughed, “it's my parents' car.”

“All the more reason then,” she said, tucking a few towels from the clean bin under her arm and taking his hand. 

The drive took thirty minutes, and they ended up at a lovers lane of sorts - nothing more than a dirt road at the edge of a tree lined pond. They were the only ones there. Sarah tried not to think about how he knew about it. 

“I know this is really fucking cheesy, but can we get in the back seat?” he asked. 

She nodded, glad they didn't go through the whole rigmarole of squirreling over the center console. Car sex was uncomfortable enough. No point in making it more so. 

They both went to their perspective back doors, and she didn’t waist any time, crawling into his lap and kissing him. 

“Sarah,” Quinn moaned when she moved on to his neck. He was so torqued up, his desire ratcheted so high he didn't think he'd ever had bluer balls in his life. He hadn't touched her in two and a half weeks, then they had finally shared a bed, but he'd only been able to get her off with his hands and vice versa because of the bedroom lock situation. Then she'd walked out that morning in that goddamn fucking bikini and he about lost his goddamn fucking mind. THEN it took ten hours before they were able to get away on their own. 

He'd been riding the edge so long that she didn't even need to get him worked up. He felt crazy with wanting. 

“Sarah, please,” his hands, clumsy, pulled at her shirt. She let him strip it off. He reached for her shorts, and she pushed him away. He whined in earnest, in too deep to be embarrassed. 

“I want to blow you first,” she said, voice husky. 

His eyes practically rolled to the back of his head. “Fuck, Sarah. Really?”

“Really.” She gave him a coy smile and maneuvered so she was on her knees in front of him. 

“You can get me off while you recover,” she said. 

“Yeah.”

He would have agreed with practically anything at that moment. She needed a new car? Done. Tuition? She wanted to skinny dip in this pond? She wanted to marry him? Done, done, and done. He'd do it all. 

She made quick work of his pants, shoving them down until he could kick them off onto the floor. 

And then her blissful mouth was on him. She felt so good - warm and wet, and the way her tongue moved made his breathing hitch. Part of him felt 12, ready to shoot off at any moment; the other part of him wanted to savor this. 

Her hand slid up his thigh. He was so certain she was about to wrap her fingers around the base of his shaft that when she bypassed and cradled his balls instead, his hips bucked of their own volition. 

He hit the back of her throat, and she pulled off coughing through the gagging sensation.

Shit. 

Fuck. 

No, no, no, no, no. 

“I'm sorry,” he said. His voice was practically begging. “I'm sorry.”

Seeing the tears she was blinking out of her eyes as she sat up slammed him back into reality. 

He cupped her cheek, “I'm sorry, Sarah. I didn't expect that, and I just…I lost control. Are you okay?” 

She blinked a few more times to get rid of the tears and swallowed. “Yeah, I’m okay.” 

Breathing a sigh of relief, he leaned against the car door. Having sex in a backseat was really never a good idea. They were too confined to get into any of their favorite positions. 

Having sex in the backseat when he was this needy was a terrible idea — compounding all the issues with his impatience. That said, if it was the only way they would be together, he’d have sex in this goddamn car every night. 

His eyes shot open at the feel of her lips wrapping around him again. He wouldn’t lie. The way she was sucking him off, on her knees, ass in the air, was one of the most attractive things he’d ever seen her do. 

“Can I take a picture?”

She pulled back, looking up at him, “what?” 

“Can I take a picture?” he repeated, fishing for his jeans and pulling the phone out of his pocket. “You look so fucking hot like this. I just want to remember.”

“As long as it’s not shared anywhere, yeah,” she said, leaning down to take him again.

Part of him hadn’t really expected her to say yes. His mouth had run away with his thoughts before he could vet them. Fumbling, he finally got his phone to unlock and adjusted the camera settings for the dark.

The app only clicked once before she pulled off. He whined. 

“Hold on,” she said, undoing the button on her shorts and shoving them around her knees. “This'll make a better picture.” If she was going to allow it, might as well go all out. 

As she took him in her mouth again, she perked her ass in the air, showing off. 

“Holy shit,” he breathed. It took him a second to remember his phone in his hand and take another picture. In the dim light, it just barely captured the shadow of the lace. 

“You're so fucking incredible,” he moaned. 

Feeling her smile around him was something he’d never get over. 

Using every technique she knew he liked, Sarah continued on until he was panting and moaning above her. 

Gripping the seats, Quinn willed his hips to stay still. “I‘m gonna come,” he warned. 

Hollowing her cheeks, she sucked a little harder, gratified when he let out the stuttered moan she’d been aiming for. She wanted to milk him dry. 

When he came with a shout, she did just that. 

Spent, Quinn collapsed against the door, breathing heavily. 

There was no rustling or opening doors, so she could spit. As his eyes fluttered open, he asked, “did you swallow?”

“There wasn’t anywhere else to put it.” 

“Damn,” he said, disappointment in his voice.

“What?”

“I didn’t see it.”

“It looks the same as when I swallow anything else,” she assured. 

“It does not,” he argued. “You never swallow.” 

She gave him a look that had him backtracking, “I mean, not that I mind that you don’t, but I just…would have liked to see it, thats all….” he trailed off.  

“I’m sorry,” she said, coming forward to settle in his lap again. “Next time, I’ll wait until you open your eyes to swallow.” 

“Next time?” he asked, quirking his eyebrows. 

“Yes, next time. You know, as well as I do, that that won’t be the last blowjob I give you.” 

“For all I know, it could be,” he said, though his voice was teasing. 

“As long as you reciprocate, it won’t.” 

“I better start reciprocating, then,” he said with a wink, sneaking his hands into the band of her underwear to push it down. He had been dreaming about her taste for weeks, and cleaning her release from his fingers the night before only made the craving worse. 

“I don’t know if in the car…” she wanted his mouth almost as much as she wanted his cock buried deep inside her but she worried it wouldn’t work in the car, at least not the way she liked. She preferred to be laid out on her back so she could totally relax and he could have full access.

Pouting, Quinn stuck his bottom lip out and met her eyes in an attempt to get her on his side. “I don’t want to use my hands again.” It came out a bit of a whine. 

“I love your hands,” she said, covering his with her own, pulling them up her body and to the clasp of her bra. He made quick work of the hooks and pulled it off, tossing it to the floor with his jeans. 

“Plus, once you’re hard again,” she reached down and cupped his sensitive dick, “I want this inside me.”

“Yeah?” 

“Fuck yes. I’ve been thinking about you filling me up for weeks.” 

Moaning, he twitched against her palm. Not bothering to remove them, his hand slipped to the apex of her thighs, rubbing over her underwear. 

Head thrown back, she moaned as her hips ground into his hand. 

It didn’t take long for her juices to soak through the flimsy lace. The fact that he was doing this to her made his whole body feel like it was on fire. 

“Quinn,” she breathed, “I want your fingers inside me.”

“Later,” he said, too intoxicated with the idea of her coming with this lace barrier between them. “I want to feel you come like this.” 

A whine escaped her, but she continued dutifully rocking against him.

He stroked her pearl, then moved down, teasing her entrance with the tips of his fingers. 

She huffed out a frustrated breath. “If you’re not going to put them inside me, stop teasing.” 

“But teasing you is so much fun,” he said, pushing in, just slightly. 

Both hands gripped his shoulders, and she moved her hips down, trying to force his digits inside her. The lace prevented him from dipping to the depth she wanted him, and she whined his name. 

“Naughty,” he admonished, slipping his fingers back to her sensitive bundle, stroking it so slowly that it was more torture than treat.

Her beautiful mouth was open and panting. “Quinn, please.” 

He usually envisioned that word coming from his lips, not the other way around.

Her hips ground down hard against his hand. He pushed back with equal force, and she winced, shrinking from his touch.

“Sorry,” he said, lightening his pressure. He’d been so caught in the moment, he forgot how sensitive she was, “sorry.”

Too intent on her orgasm, Sarah shook her head. Her hand shot to his wrist of it’s own accord,  guiding him back to her. Finding his fingers again, she started grinding herself against them. The sensation of the lace between her clit and his touch was incredible. The fabric was so soaked now that the texture of it was no longer painful. It only added another layer of stimulation.  

Quinn let her control the pace, content to watch bliss take over her body. Her head tipped back, and he leaned forward to lick one of her nipples into his mouth, hoping to give her that final push. 

She moaned his name as one of her hands came up to cradle the back of his head. He felt the other grasp onto his shoulder.

He knew she was almost there from the pace of her breathing, the racing of her heart and the way her hips stuttered. He was still glad when she clarified anyway. “I’m so close.” 

Switching to using his middle two fingers, he used the index to work under the lace. At the first sign of her orgasm, he swept the fabric aside and plunged his middle and ring fingers inside her. 

Sarah screamed. 

Feeling his fingers finally penetrate her as her orgasm began to pulse catapulted her pleasure into another dimension. 

The grip she had on his shoulder tightened, and she chanted, “Quinn…Quinn…Oh my god, Quinn…Fuck!” The last word came out a shout as he brought his thumb to her clit, drawing tight circles around the sensitive bundle still swathed in lace. Her high, which had been easing off, exploded to life again. 

He’d never heard her be so loud before. At least they were several miles from the nearest town and nowhere near his family.

Easing off when a soft whine escaped her throat, Quinn brought his hand to his mouth, eager to taste her release. 

Watching him clean his fingers through hooded eyes, she said, “I want you inside me.” 

“There’s a condom in my jeans,” he said, reaching for the material.

Pulling his hand back, she placed it over her breast. “Don’t care. Need to feel you.” 

“You’re sure?” He knew having unprotected sex without a bathroom close would mean she would be dealing with the aftermath the whole way home on top of having soaked underwear. 

Nodding, she hurriedly pulled her underwear out of the way. Taking it off would take too much time — time she wasn’t willing to give up, not when she was so close to finally feeling him again. 

The way she moaned when she sunk onto him was going to haunt his dreams for months.

Relishing the feeling of having his hard cock inside her again, Sarah paused. Head tipped back, she panted.

She moaned as he adjusted, sending him further inside her. 

“You feel unbelievable,” he said full of breathless wonder. 

“Uh hu,” she agreed, starting to move, easing up and down. 

Feeling her this way reminded him of that day in April she’d showed up at his house to congratulate him on making the playoffs. Remembering the way they’d made love that day, he spread his hands wide, ready to support her. 

Instead of leaning back, she came forward to kiss him. “Want you on top,” she said against his mouth. 

“Okay.”

As much as it pained her to, she pushed off of him so they could rearrange. He guided her onto her back, pulling the towel back in place as he did. She shimmied out of her panties.

Once his hips settled against hers as he slipped back inside her, she wrapped her legs tightly around him. It forced him into a more sensual rocking rather than fucking her hard and fast. 

Tucking his face into her neck, kissing and licking all the skin he could find, Quinn marveled at how good it felt, even squashed into the back seat of a car, she still felt amazing. 

Her hands slid up his back and buried themselves in his hair. Sarah tipped her hips so Quinn was brushing her clit each time he moved. 

She gasped his name. 

He grunted, too taken with her to form a more coherent response. 

“You feel so good.”

The praise shot a mixture of pleasure and panic up his spine and into his mouth, “can’t do that.”

“Do what?” 

“Can’t say things like that.”

“Like what? That you make me feel good?”

He whined, nodding his head. 

“Why not?”

“Gonna make me come.”

Sliding her hands to his ears, she pulled his face from her neck, so he was looking down at her. “Guess you better shut me up, then.”

Eyes widening in surprise, Quinn felt his breath shutter in his lungs. It didn’t take long for him to take the bait, crashing their lips together in a kiss that mimicked the way their bodies moved in and around each other.

His continuous, sensual rocking made Sarah’s whole body quake. Pleasure sparked in her core and rippled outward. God, everything about him felt incredible. His tongue, the hot length of his cock, the way his hips rocked into hers. She moaned into his mouth and he moaned back as if in agreement. 

“Quinn,” she panted. “Oh,” her moan cut off as he thrust a little harder. 

Unable to hold it any longer, she tipped her head back, crying out as her orgasm exploded into her veins.  

Fastening his mouth on any skin he could find, he focused on the taste of her sweat and chased her racing pulse, working her through her high. As it edged off, Quinn slowed his thrusts to match the pulse of her core around him. 

Collapsing against the seat, Sarah breathed, “holy shit,” as a sense of heady euphoria crashed over her. 

Beaming down at her, he settled his hips against hers. Torsos pressing together with every breath, Quinn shook his head, “you’re fucking amazing, you know that? First the blow job,” his cock twitched inside her just remembering it. “Now this?”

She flushed. 

“What?” he asked, laughing. 

“I needed to get you off, so you'd last for this. Don't get me wrong, I love giving you pleasure, but I'll admit, the blow job was mostly for me.”

“Minx,” he teased, but there was no heat in it. He understood her reasoning, and it was smart, really. Plus it’s not like he’d minded.

She laughed, and he bit his lip as her core flexed.

Her legs loosened around him, and she reached up to brush his hair from his face. 

“What do you want?” 

He gulped. “Wanna come inside.”

“Of course,” she said as if that wasn’t even a question. “How do you want it?” 

His brain ran away with his mouth, “wanna fuck you.” 

She nodded. 

It was the only permission he needed. Bracing himself above her, he immediately set a pace that made both them and the car shake. 

“Want to feel it,” she said, pushing her hips up to meet his every thrust. 

Had anyone else but Sarah heard the pathetic little whine that came out of his mouth, he would have been mortified.

“Come for me, Quinn.” 

Each thrust ended with her name on his tongue. When his orgasm finally shattered, he flooded her with a shout. Burring himself to the hilt again and again, he kept going until his limbs gave out, and he collapsed on top of her. 

Day 3 (The 4th of July):

The morning of the 4th was spent puttering around the bay in a two-person kayak before stopping on a far shore to eat the picnic she’d packed for brunch. 

Then they had to get back to the house so Sarah could make her dads favorite chocolate tart. Jim had suggested and requested she make it, so she and Quinn had stopped at the store on their way back from their lovers’ lane rendezvous the night before. She’d never been so thankful she’d remembered a hairbrush. 

In the middle of the afternoon, as the crust was baking, they found themselves in the house alone. 

Glancing out the window, Sarah saw the family gathered at the bay shore behind the neighboring house and locked what looked like an intense volleyball tournament. 

“Looks like the house is empty,” she said casually. 

Quinn perked up. 

She picked up the timer, “we’ve got a bit of time before I need to pull this out of the oven if you want to —” She broke off, laughing as Quinn sprinted around the island, took her by the waist and pulled her against him. 

“Yes,” he said breathlessly, “I want to.” 

She laughed again and pulled him down the hall to his room. Once there, she pulled the blinds closed before turning back to him. He was shutting the door, looking at her like he was ready to pounce. 

Glancing at the timer, she said, “we’ve got thirty minutes,” before stripping her tank top off, revealing her blue bikini top. 

He was going to spend every one of them with his face between her legs. God, he missed the way she tasted, the noises she made when he went down on her. There was nothing like it. 

“Thirty minutes,” he repeated, “just enough time to get you off a few times.” 

He tackled her into the bed, immediately wrestling with her shorts and the bikini bottoms she had on underneath them. 

“And you,” she said, reaching for his swim trunks, “I want to feel you, too.” Before she could get a good grip to pull his board shorts down, he was kissing along her stomach, intention clear. 

“Quinn,” she breathed, “you don’t have to —” 

“Want to,” he mumbled into her skin as he spread her thighs to lay between them. 

A whimper escaped her chest.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he moaned when he finally got his eyes on her. She was already glistening for him. 

“Really?” she knew he didn’t mind giving head, but to miss it? She missed getting him off, sure, but she’d be lying if she said she missed giving him a blowjob more than anything else. 

“Fuck yes.” 

She let out a small moaned whine as her hips tipped toward his mouth.

He didn't need any more invitation than that. Stuffing his face into her center, he moaned, feeling his eyes roll back. She smelled and tasted like heaven.

When he got over the initial jolt of pleasure at finally having his mouth on her again, he looked up to find she'd pulled her bikini top to the side and was toying with her nipple. The other hand was over her mouth, muffling the noises he loved so much. 

“Want to hear you.” 

Was that his voice? He sounded drunk. In a way, he supposed he was. 

“I don’t want to…” she broke off, panting. “Don’t want to draw attention,” she managed. “What if someone comes in the house?” 

Not bothering to respond, he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked. 

Her hips tipped into him, and she moaned. 

“That’s it,” he groaned into her, “just like that.”

“Oh my god,” she breathed as the hand that was over her mouth fumbled into his hair. The other stayed at her chest, pushing her bikini off of her other breast so she could tweak and twirl that nipple, too.

Fuck, she was so sexy.

Two orgasms later, Quinn showed no signs of stopping, despite rutting his hips into the mattress every time her body and breath shook with pleasure.

“I want you.”

He didn’t make any moves to break away from her center. He was practically drinking her release, but his thirst wasn’t yet quenched.

“Quinn, I want you inside me.”

When he didn’t follow her request, she wrapped her fingers into his hair and tugged. 

He grunted and let out a pathetic little whine, but let her pull him up to her. 

Kneeling, he shoved his shorts down before hooking her right leg over his arm. 

“Quinn,” she moaned when he hovered over her. It stretched her farther than she could on her own, but it wasn’t unpleasant. 

“You want it?” he asked, nestling just the tip against her entrance. 

“Yes,” she moaned, head thrown back. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Yes, Quinn. I need your cock inside me.” 

There was only so far a man's resistance could take him, and Quinn had just run out of rope. Leaning down, he caught her mouth to capture her moans as his hips drove forward, sheathing himself in one hard thrust. 

Their shouts crashed together, their lips muffling the sound. 

After only a few harsh thrusts, she was pulling away, head tipped back against the pillows as she panted.

Guiding her hand between their bodies, he instructed, “touch yourself for me.”

He’d usually build her up slowly, but there was no time for that kind of slow seduction. 

“Fuck,” she whispered, body on fire. 

He felt her walls spasm around him and knew she'd made contact with her swollen bundle of nerves. 

“Feels good?” he asked, voice strained to a whisper in her ear. 

“So good,” she babbled, “you feel so, so good.” 

He growled something deep in his throat. 

“Yes,” she panted, not knowing or caring what she was agreeing to. 

He chuckled. 

“I’m almost there,” she said. Pressing a fraction harder, she skated that delicate line of getting off faster without causing pain. 

“Come for me, Sarah,” he commanded. 

She gasped. He never talked like this at home. Something about the possibility of getting caught brought it out of him, she was sure.

Mouth next to her ear, he growled, “come all over my cock.”

She had no choice but to obey. His filthy mouth, combined with a few more punishing thrusts, had her careening into orgasmic bliss. 

He swallowed her moans and trusted her to catch his cry of pleasure when he came hard inside her. 

After riding out their highs, he flopped beside her, and her leg fell off the side of the bed.

“Holy shit,” she whispered. 

He huffed in response.

After a few moments of panting breaths, she asked, “could you go get a washcloth?”

“I don't think I can move,” he confessed.

She giggled, “that good, hu?” 

“Fuck,” he moaned. “It was unreal.” 

“It was, or I was?” she asked, quirking her brows teasingly.

“You always are,” he said earnestly as he rolled over to throw a heavy arm over her stomach as his mouth connected with her shoulder.

The timer beeped once.

“That's the one minute warning,” she said quietly, tucking her breasts back into her top. “I need a towel or something to wipe off so I can get dressed to pull the crust out.”

Fuck this room with its stupid fucking walk in closet that should have been a en suite bathroom. 

Quinn convinced himself up with a groan and found a clean t shirt she could use, “I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly, handing it to her. 

The timer went off just as she was finishing wiping up. She threw on her bathing suit and rushed into the kitchen. 

The back door opened as she was pulling the crust out of the oven. She kept her eyes down, knowing she must look ridiculous pulling a pie out of the oven in her bikini. She hadn't even looked in a mirror yet. Her hair was likely wild, and she was probably flushed and looked over kissed. She may as well have been wearing a sign that said freshly fucked. 

“God fucking dammit,” she recognized Jack's voice, “have Quinn text me when we can come back in the house,” he said, voice too loud and dripping with annoyance, before the door snapped shut. 

She giggled and, upon coming back to the room, found Quinn freshly showered. 

“How did you do that so fast?”

“Do what?”

“Shower. I was gone for like three minutes.”

He shrugged and whipped the towel from around his waist to drag over his hair. 

She didn't try to hide her stare, admiring his hip lines, which were more defined than they'd been at the start of the summer. 

“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.”

Heat flooded her cheeks, but she pulled her eyes to his. “Jack wants you to text him when it's safe to come inside.”

He laughed. “Does that mean we can go another few rounds before I tell him anything?” he asked, slinging an arm around her and bringing her close against him. 

“I’ve got to shower and finish the tart,” she said, patting his chest lightly. “Plus, I think we’ve pushed our luck enough for one day.”

Begrudgingly, he agreed and dressed as she went to take a shower. 

When Sarah wandered back to the kitchen, hair wet, but pulled back in a french braid, she found Quinn at the sink, watching his brothers play volleyball paired up with some of their cousins. 

“You should go join,” Sarah encouraged.

“But you’re not —”

“I can finish this on my own. It’s not a big deal. Go have fun.” 

“You're sure?” 

“Yeah. I actually wouldn't mind having some time to myself for a minute.” 

“You’ll let me know if you want me to come back in?” he confirmed. 

She nodded, and he pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth before heading outside. 

After Quinn went out to join in the tournament, absorbed onto the same team as his brothers, people cycled through the kitchen as they came in to use the bathroom or grab something to drink. Each one of them offered to help, and Sarah always responded with a bright smile and an, “I'm alright. Thank you, though.” 

It wasn't until Ellen came in that the answer changed. 

She was the first one who broached the barrier of the island, coming around to lay a hand on Sarah's upper back. “Are you okay in here, sweetheart?”

It was such a motherly thing to do that it made emotion swell in her chest.  

“Yeah,” Sarah said with a sigh, “I'm fine. Just a little overwhelmed.” 

“Ah,” she nodded knowingly, “it's a lot to take in.” 

“Yeah. I'm kind of glad to have some time to myself.” 

“Do you want me to leave?” 

“No, you can stay if you want.”

“How can I help?” 

Sarah set her to washing the raspberries while she watched the caramel over the stove. 

“Things are going okay, though?” 

“Yeah. It's a little less huge every day. I feel like I’m finally remembering people’s names.” 

“And they're okay with Quinn? I know he's really missed you when you're apart.” 

“Yeah, I've missed him a lot, too,” she said. “It's been kind of a rough go.” 

“Well, it seems like a good sign to me that you miss each other so much.” 

“Yeah. It's kind of weird. I feel like I miss him a lot physically, but I didn't realize how much I missed the little interactions until they were gone.” 

“What do you mean?” 

It felt a little strange to be talking about this with Quinn’s mom, but she was asking. “Like, I miss running into each other as we’re going through his apartment. Like, if I’m studying, he gives me a kiss as he passes by. That kind of thing.”

Ellen felt a knowing, happy smile spread over her face. Jimmy often did things like that to her, and knowing that Quinn had picked up on one of his dads sweetest habits made her heart swell with pride.

“He told us he invited you to move in when he gets back.” 

Smiling down at the caramel, which was starting to turn golden, Sarah nodded. 

“Are you going to?” 

“I think so. I mean, I will unless something changes.” 

“Quinn’ll be so relieved. I’m pretty relieved, too.”

Sarah glanced up at her. 

“He’s been all alone in Vancouver for so long,” Ellen explained, shaking the water off the berries, “I know he’s got hockey and his teammates, but I realize now how different it’s been for Jack and Luke to have each other. I’m just glad he has someone he can rely on.”

Intense pride and acceptance filled Sarah’s chest. She knew Ellen liked her, but for her to be relieved she was in Quinns life was something totally different. It dispelled some of her lingering anxiety. 

“It’s really, really nice for me to have someone to rely on, too.” Before she could stop them, words continued bubbling out of her mouth, “I’m a little worried about living there while he’s on the road, though.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I just…I’ve never lived on my own, and — I don’t know if Quinn’s told you about what happened after my mom died?”

“He mentioned you went through some hard things,” Ellen said, trying to be tactful. Quinn had told her about Sarah moving in with her sister and then her uncle because she was worried about her mental health. 

“I know it’ll only be for short stints, but I’ve never done that before.”

The older woman nodded in understanding. “I think I went through something similar when Jimmy started traveling with his coaching. I had the boys at home, and we were really busy, and at times, I just wanted to rip my hair out.”

“How did you get through it?” 

“I had friends, and I took time for myself when Jim got home. It’ll be a transition for sure, but I think you’ll settle into it just fine. And you know I’m always just a phone call away.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” she said, wrapping her arm around Sarah, who leaned her head on Ellen’s shoulder. “Sometimes, it’s nice to have some time away from each other, too. It cuts out the mundane.”

A laugh chuffed out of Sarah’s mouth, and she pulled the caramel off the stove to pour into the pie crust. 

“How’s your research going this summer?” Ellen asked. 

“Since I’m not in school, and the aquarium is so much busier in the summer, I do more work than research, so I’ve been doing a lot of education tours. I had to re-up my scuba certification this year, so I did that last week.” 

“Why?” 

“Sometimes we have to dive into the tanks,” she said. “It’s pretty rare, but they like all of the zoologists to have it.” 

Ellen nodded. 

“But my research is going well. It’s right on track. I’ve started writing my thesis, and as long as I can get it done, I should be able to graduate at the end of the year.”

“Oh, that’s so exciting.”

“It’s kind of daunting,” Sarah admitted. “I’ve been in school for so long, I don’t really know what I’ll do with myself when I’m done.”

“I remember feeling that way when I was in grad school. It’s just new. You’ll figure it out as it comes,” Ellen assured. “Do you have to defend your thesis?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I hope you’ll let us know when you do. We’d love to be there to support you.”

Sarah beamed. “I’d like that.” 

They finished the tart together right before Jims sisters came in to take over the kitchen. As Quinn’s families house was bigger and more recently renovated, almost all of the cooking took place there. It also didn’t hurt that it had the largest lawn for outdoor dinners to be set up. 

Sarah joined in the last game of volleyball, a battle of the sexes. The girls won, but that was mostly due to the fact that three of Quinn’s cousins played college volleyball and coached everyone else in what to do. It didn’t stop Sarah from gloating to Quinn when they embraced after the game was done. He took it all in stride, teasing her about her missed sets. 

After a cookout dinner of burgers, dogs, and all the fixings, dessert was set out, and Sarah’s tart, despite being sliced into tiny servings, was gone before everyone was done eating dinner. 

Once the sun set, they moved down to the beach to watch the fireworks, which were shot off across the bay. 

Sarah and Quinn shared a blanket. He invited her to sit between his legs so she could lean on his chest, but she opted to sit beside him. She’d always wanted to kiss under fireworks, and sitting side by side made that more of a possibility. 

Halfway through the show, she glanced over at him to find him watching her. 

Their mouths tipped together, and it was even more romantic than Sarah had imagined. Finally, the world outside matched how she felt kissing him. 

“He’s never done that before, you know,” Luke said, catching up with her as they meandered back to the house to light sparklers with the little ones before they had to get to bed. 

“What?” 

“Quinn. He’s never made out with someone in public like that.” 

“Really?” It’s not like they made a habit of kissing in front of people, but they’d kissed in front of both of their families after he won the Norris, and their first kiss hadn’t been very private at all. 

“Yeah. He’s usually more reserved.” 

“It’s probably just because we’re with family.”

Luke shook his head, “No. He’s brought other girls to the 4th before, and he never kissed any of them like that.”

Sarah felt her eyebrows raise. 

“It’s just nice to see him so comfortable with someone,” he said, knocking his shoulder into hers.  

A smile beamed over her face. “You an Kylee looked pretty cozy, too.” They’d started kissing even before the fireworks started, and from what Sarah saw, they never broke apart. Though they must have if he’d noticed her and Quinn. 

His face flushed as he gave her a chagrined smile. “Our first kiss was on the 4th of July. It’s kind of an anniversary,” he said, watching Kylee dance around with some of his cousins. 

“Yeah? Ellen made it seem like you guys didn’t start dating until you started your senior year.” 

“We didn’t. I was trying, and we kind of got somewhere over the 4th, but she didn’t think I was serious.”

“Why not?” 

Kylee came up to them then, hooking her arm around Luke’s waist. “Luke’s so shy at first, I couldn’t really tell if he was into me. And Jack talked to me all the time,” she explained. “He always brought Luke up, but never, like, facilitated a conversation between us.”

“Why didn’t he just let you figure it out?” Sarah asked, tearing her eyes away from where Quinn had Nova perched on his shoulders so she could waive her sparkler higher than everyone else. 

Luke rolled his eyes, “I think he was trying to wing-man, but it backfired constantly. We only kissed on the 4th because Jack was gone.”

Kylee giggled, “I felt like I had it figured out, and then in comes Jack chatting me up again.” 

Upon hearing his name, Jack looked over, “what about me?”

“We’re just talking about what an awful wingman you are,” Luke called back. 

“The worst!” someone else chimed in.

Jack’s cheeks, which were already pink from having one too many beers, flushed darker. 

 “Now that I know him better, I know he really was trying to talk Luke up, but I was just so confused,” Kylee explained with a laugh. “He’s so chatty, it comes off as flirting sometimes.”

“It wasn’t until he moved to New Jersey that she started taking me seriously,” Luke said, casting a fond glance at his girlfriend. 

“I was trying,” Jack called out across the lawn. 

“I know!” Kylee yelled back. 

Sarah wondered how her relationship with Quinn would have been different if Jack had behaved this way. She supposed they were already in love by the time she met Jack. Instead of the overly friendly, flirty Jack, she got the sullen, don’t take my brother Jack. At least he seemed to be getting over that particular fear. He didn’t treat her like a sibling like he did Kylee, but at least he wasn’t as standoffish as he had been and was beginning to joke with her. 

After the kids were finally in bed, some of the adults sat around the living room, planning the beach trip for the following day. Sarah was on the floor, leaning against the couch between Quinn’s splayed legs. His hands were resting comfortably on her shoulders. In an attempt to stop herself from kissing the inside of his leg, she leaned her head on his knee. 

“Mia mentioned wanting to go through the tide pools,” she said. “I looked it up, and it looks like the best beach for tide pools is Great Island Common. I don’t know how close we’re going to be to there, but it could be fun to go.”

“Its not too far from the beach we're going to.”

“Awesome. Low tide is at 5 pm, so it would be best to do tide pooling between 2 and 5 when the tide is receding.” 

Everyone glanced at each other quietly. 

“What?” 

“You looked all that up?” 

“Yeah. Mia said she wanted to go,” Sarah repeated. 

“I just,” Jenny began, “I’m surprised you looked up the best times to go tide pooling for a twelve year old.”

“It was just a few quick google searches. I’d bet the other kids would like it, too. All my nieces and nephews really love it. We might as well go at the best time if we can swing it.” 

When they fell into bed that night, Quinn pulled Sarah on top of him, just to feel her weight pressing him down. “I love you,” he said, mouth sleepily brushing her jaw. 

“I love you, too.”

They fell asleep mouth to mouth. 

Day 4 (The Beach):

“Look over here!” 

Quinn watched the kids run to gather around Sarah, a smile on his face. They’d all been tired, sun drenched and ready to go home when they got to Great Island Common, but Sarah’s love for the ocean and her knack for finding interesting creatures soon had them all invested in the hunt through the rocky tide pools. 

“Mia found a small octopus in this pool,” she said, pointing to a craggy divot in the rock. “Can you see it?”

Sam reached forward, and Sarah gently caught his hand, “we can’t touch, remember? We’re in his house. He’s not in ours.” 

Sam nodded, a shy blush spreading over his cheeks. 

Even the adults were gathered around now, along with some people they didn’t know. 

“I don’t see it,” his uncle said. 

“Octopus camouflage really well, so they’re hard to see, but if you look really closely,” she traced the outline of it with her finger above the water, “you can see where it looks just a little different from the rock, and then you can find the legs and suction cups.” 

After a moment, Quinn could see the creature, legs curlicued underneath itself, rows and rows of tiny suction cups just lighter than the body. 

“And you can see the urchin there,” she pointed to the purple creature on the other side of the pool. “Those are poisonous if the spines go through your skin, so make sure you don’t step on any of them, okay?”

The little kids nodded seriously.

“Sarah! There’s a crab!” 

“Where?” she asked as if she’d never seen one before. 

Sam proudly pointed to the crab crawling along the bottom of an adjacent pool. 

“Good job, Sam. What else can you see?” 

They fanned out and reported their findings. 

“What’s this?” Jason asked. 

Sarah walked over and laughed. “That,” she reached into the pool and plucked something out, “is a plastic bag.” 

“Oh,” he said with a laugh, “I thought it might be a jellyfish.”

“No. Jellyfish don’t like the shallow water, so they usually don’t end up in tide pools unless they get caught, and they look more like a pile of Jello if they do. Most things in tide pools like to be there because each new tide brings fresh water and fresh food. It’s sort of an all you can eat buffet without having to go very far.” 

“Sarah!” Nova screeched. 

She immediately turned around, nearly toppling over in her haste. 

Quinn caught her arm and held her steady. 

“Thanks,” she said with a grateful smile before searching for Nova. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” she asked when she spotted the small girl, squatting over a pool. 

“There’s a star in here!” 

Sharing a conspiratorial smile with Quinn, she made her way over. 

“You’re right. That is a sea star,” she said. “Oh, and look, it’s lost an arm.”

“Oh no,” Nova said, hands coming up to her pudgy cheeks. 

“Its okay. That happens to sea stars sometimes, but guess what?”

“What?” 

“They grow right back. If we come back in two months, she’d have a brand new arm.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

Watching her go from pool to pool to talk to the kids about what they’d found, he understood why the aquarium liked her to do the octopus talks. She was patient and excited and willing to talk about even the most boring of topics. 

He already knew she was smart and patient and kind, but seeing all of those things directed at people he loved made his heart feel fit to burst. 

Her sister leaned over, and Ellen leaned in to hear her conspiratorial whisper, “I’ve never seen Quinn look so lovestruck before.”

“I know,” Ellen agreed, smiling.

“It’s a good look on him. She’s a great girl.”

As they walked back to the cars, ready to get dinner and head home for the day, Jack caught up with Sarah. “Can we do that in Hawaii?” he asked quietly so no one would overhear.

She smiled over at him, “sure. Or we could go snorkeling. There are a lot of really good snorkeling coves around the island. We could find some really interesting fish. Probably even some sharks or turtles.”

His face lit up in a beaming smile, “yeah, that would be cool.” 

Day 5 (Goodbye is the hardest word): 

Quinn let himself sleep in the next morning. Savoring the last few hours he had with Sarah. 

They cuddled in bed, falling in and out of slumber until someone knocked on the door. 

“Yeah?” Quinns voice rasped, and he cleared his throat. 

“Is it safe?” Luke asked. 

“What do you want?” 

Figuring he wouldn’t have responded if they were engaged in other activities, Kylee stuck her head in, breathing a sigh of relief to find them cuddled together but fully clothed. 

“Sorry,” she said. “Ellen wanted me to remind you breakfast’s almost over, so if you want food, you need to come out now.”

When they stumbled onto the lawn, still in their pajamas, someone wolf whistled. Quinn flipped them off. 

After eating, they ended up back in bed, content to hold each other for a little while longer. 

“I’m gonna miss you so bad,” Quinn whispered. 

Sarah agreed.

“Twenty-nine days,” he breathed. 

“What?” 

“That’s when I can see you again.”

Sarah opened her mouth to dispute but remembered Jack’s plan and snapped it shut. “Maybe it won’t be so bad,” she said instead.

“No?” he asked. “Because it sounds pretty fucking awful to me.” There was a harshness in his tone she didn’t recognize. 

Easing away from him, she propped herself up so she could look into his face, “why are you mad?”

“I’m not mad.”

“Bullshit. I can hear it in your voice. Why are you mad?”

Feeling caught and cornered, Quinn blew a breath through his nose. “I just…we’re not going to see each other for 29 days - probably longer than that, and you’re telling me it’s not going to be so bad? Do you not even miss me?”

Shocked, she sat up, moving further away from him.  “What the fuck, Quinn? Of course I miss you.” 

“But not as much,” he crossed his arms over his chest as he sat up, too. 

“I miss you an enormous amount. I miss you every day we’re not together.”

“But it’s going to be fine when we’re apart?”

Sarah felt her defenses go up. “That’s not what I said.” 

“But it’s what you meant.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Quinn,” her voice went hard. 

He glared at her, and it shocked into her stomach. 

 Fighting against the urge to put more space between them, she said, “I don’t understand where this is coming from.” 

“I’m saying that I’m going to miss you,” his voice tipped into a borderline mocking tone as if he was trying to explain something to an unruly child, “and you’re telling me to buck up because it won’t be that bad.”

Damn Jack and his surprise. It would make everything so much easier if she didn’t have to keep this a secret. 

“I didn’t say that,” she said. Anger at being mocked and told what she was thinking simmered inside her, making her heartbeat race. 

He dropped his gaze to his hands. 

Pressing her palms into the mattress, she tried to ground herself as she thought. Ever since they’d talked about the summer and he’d asked why she always ran away, she’d been working with her therapist on sitting in these tense, uncomfortable emotions. Taking a deep breath, she tried to sort through her thoughts. What did she actually want to say? 

“Quinn, I love you.” 

He didn’t look at her, but she saw his mouth twitch. 

“This summer fucking sucks. I wish all of it was like this,” she ventured to put a hand on his knee. When he didn’t shrink away from her touch, she continued, “I miss you all the time when we’re not together.” 

He sighed, focusing on the warmth from her palm on his leg. 

“All I meant was that we made it through this 17 day stint —”

“19,” he corrected. 

“19,” she repeated. “I know 29 days isn’t the same as 19 by a long shot,” also they would see each other in 22 days, but he didn’t know that yet, “but we made it this time. I’m not saying it won’t be hard, but we’ll figure it out, just like we’ve figured out everything else.”

He lifted his head, and to her surprise, the sunlight streaming through the window was shimmering off of tears pooled in his eyes. 

“Oh, Quinn,” she said,  scooting closer to him so she could gather him into an embrace. 

He tucked his face into her neck and took some deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. Her fingers slid into his hair, rubbing soothing circles on his scalp. 

“I’m sorry,” he said into her skin. “I was just thinking about how much it’s going to suck driving back from the airport without you.”

She hummed in agreement. She’d been thinking about the long flight home without him, too. The anticipation of seeing him wouldn’t be there to soothe the ache down this time. 

“I know we made it, but now that I know how hard it is to be without you for nineteen days, it just feels like,” he lifted his head to look into her face, “it feels like now I know exactly how hard it’s going to be to wait twenty-nine.” 

The pain in his eyes ripped her heart in half. If Jack hadn’t made her promise to keep it a secret, she’d tell him right now.  

Instead, she slipped her hands to cradle his jaw and said, “it’ll be hard, but we’ll get through it together. We’ll talk every day.”

“Maybe I’ll come out for a weekend,” he suggested. 

“Sure.”

Leaning forward, he tipped his mouth to hers.

They stayed there for a long time, kissing in that slow, loving way, as if they had all the time in the world. 

When his hands snuck under her top, she let him strip it off. 

It was only when his mouth went to her neck that she remembered, “Quinn, the blinds.” 

He made a dismissive sound. 

“What if someone sees?” 

Even as he thought, then let them see, he knew Sarah wouldn’t be comfortable with it. She didn’t say anything about the door, hopefully because she’d also noticed no one had opened it without knocking since that first night. 

Convincing himself to pull away only with the promise that he'd be back in bed momentarily, he got up to close the blinds. The window looked out into the forest behind the house. He supposed someone could stumble upon it - it was on the ground floor - but he hadn’t ever noticed anyone walking by. Still, if it made Sarah more comfortable, he would do it. 

He closed the shutter doors and slid the blinds up, making sure the magnets caught so they wouldn’t fall open. 

Sunlight crept in through the cracks so that when he turned back to the bed, he found her bathed in a dim, bluish light. 

As Sarah reached for him, she murmured, “lets make the most of the time we have.” 

He didn’t waste any covering her body with his own, welcoming the electricity that sparked between their bare chests. 

They kissed and touched, exploring with a kind of rushed reverence. They had some time, but there was only so long before someone would come looking for them. 

Quinn gently rocked his hips into hers, and she responded in kind.

“I love you,” she whispered, tangling her fingers in his hair as he licked and kissed the sensitive spot that drove her mad. When she’d arrived, his facial hair was just over the cusp of stubble. Now, it was a pleasant scratch against her tender skin. 

“I love you,” he responded, so quietly she felt his lips under her ear more than she heard the words. 

“Quinn,” she breathed.

“I love the way you say my name.” His voice was dim. 

It wasn’t so much that they were trying to be quiet, as it was that this moment was just for them, and neither felt the need to speak any louder than necessary. 

 “How do you want me?” she asked before he could. He asked all the time, and he deserved to get what he wanted just as much as she did. Plus, the least she could do while keeping this secret from him was give him what he wanted. 

He moaned something into her skin. She’d asked him this before, but it still made him lightheaded. “How do you want me?” Not just how do you want sex, but how did he want her — her body and mind and soul. 

“Want you on top,” he whispered. He wanted the vision of her riding him to be the last thing he remembered from her visit. 

She let out a pleasured hum, helping him roll them over. 

They made quick work of shedding the rest of their clothing, and she slowly sunk onto him. 

A quiet whine escaped his throat as he said, “you’re so perfect.”

She leaned forward slightly so her clit brushed against his pelvis with every roll of her hips. Her eyes fluttered closed. “You’re so perfect for me, Quinn.” 

A beam of light caught his eye, and he glanced over. The closet door was open at just the right angle, so the full-length mirror mounted on it reflected her, showing him a side of her he'd never seen before. 

He was mesmerized. Watching Sarah — the sway of her back rising from the white sheet pooled around her hips  — he didn't think he'd ever seen anything so lovely.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” 

She ground against him a bit harder, and he moaned, eyes snapping back to her face just as hers flittered back open. 

The memory of their first - well second - time having sex crashed over Sarah as they held eye contact. 

Moving her hips back to sink him deeper inside her before rocking forward again, she moaned his name. She was sure their emotional connection was a big reason behind it, but no one had ever felt as good as Quinn. The love and acceptance she'd always found in his eyes gave her permission to go after what she wanted. 

In this blue-gray light, she was rendered a painting — a vision — a dream he wanted to relive every night when he closed his eyes.

His hands made a slow exploratory study of her body. Over her luscious thighs to squeeze the flesh of her hips before gliding up the curve of her waist to her lovely breasts. 

The sound she made as she arched into his touch etched itself into his brain. 

Bracing her hands on his chest, she rocked with a little more intent, chasing the spark, now glowing brighter inside her. It tightened her belly and hitched her breathing. 

“Quinn,” she whispered. 

His hand slipped up to push some of her hair out of her face. “Let go.”

“I —” The fire caught, and her whole body tightened as it licked through her veins. 

She constricted around him, and her name rushed out of him as she stole his breath, “Sarah.”  

Her hips rocked and weaved through her high, siphoning his release from him with soft insistence. 

Tenderly lowering herself, Sarah tucked her face into his neck as their skin pressed together with every jagged breath. 

His arms slid around her, keeping her close as his heartbeat slowed. 

“I love you so much.” 

She pushed herself up, keeping him seated inside her. “I love you, Quinn,” she whispered, running her fingers through his hair. “I miss you so much when we're not together.”

“I know.” Tears sheened into his vision again, “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, sending a few pieces of hair slipping out of her bun. “You don’t need to…”

“I just hate being without you.” 

Slowly, she lowered herself to lay over him again, taking care to not move too fast. She didn’t want to let go of the feeling of him inside her just yet. “I hate being without you, too,” she murmured against his lips. 

They stayed in their little cocoon as long as they could, but Quinn was right. Eventually, someone did come looking for them. The knock on the door startled his mouth away from hers. She licked and pursed her lips. 

“Quinn?” it was his dad. 

Breath hitching, she scrambled off of him, taking the sheet to cover herself along the way. 

“Yeah?” 

The door handle didn’t move, and Sarah practically collapsed beside him. 

“Just letting you know lunch is ready, and you’re going to have to leave soon to get Sarah to her flight on time. The airport security looks really busy.”

The fact that Jim was checking up on the security lines at the airport was so tender to Sarah. It was such a fatherly, responsible thing to do. 

“Okay,” Quinn responded, “we’ll be out in a minute.”

He waited for his dads footsteps to recede before throwing on a pair of boxers and racing to the bathroom to get a washcloth for her. When he got back to the room, he found her, still wrapped in the sheet, adding the last of her things to her suitcase. That ache reopened in his chest. They would get through it, but he would miss her every second. 

“I was thinking,” Sarah began as Quinn handed her the washcloth. 

“Hm?” he asked, watching her clean up. 

“Why don’t you have Jack or someone ride along to the airport? Then at least you won’t be alone for the drive back.”

“And what if I wanted to have a quicky on the road?” he asked playfully. 

She couldn’t stop the snort. “You don’t have to, I just thought it might help with some of that loneliness.”

Her care for him stopped taking him by surprise a long time ago, but he was still bowled over by it sometimes. “You wouldn’t mind?” he asked. 

“Mind what?” 

“Two hours in the car with Jack?”

 “I think I can manage,” she said with a smile, “especially if it means you won’t be so lonely going home.” 

Though she was halfway through dressing, he didn’t hesitate to wrap her in an embrace. 

The tender moment shattered when Quinn slid his hands into her underwear to grope her butt. She laughed, but jerked away from him. “If we start that again, I’ll definitely miss my flight.”

Hands on her hips, he pulled her back, “maybe that’s the idea,” he said, quirking his eyebrows. 

Laughing, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, deep and slow, until guilt gnawed at the back of her mind. She pulled back, looking into his eyes. “You know I don’t want to leave, right?” 

He nodded, one of his hands still cradling her rump. 

“I wish it didn’t have to be like this.” 

 He was spoiled having her this way for four whole days, and now that he’d experienced it, he didn’t want to let it go. He wasn’t rushing to practice, and she wasn’t running to school. They weren’t racing to activities or commitments. They got to just be together.

When she finished packing, Quinn reluctantly took her suitcase to the car as she went out to the lawn for lunch and to say her goodbyes.  

To Sarah, goodbyes were always the hardest part of vacations like this. She still wasn’t exactly sure how everyone was or wasn’t related, but she knew most peoples names at least. 

She hugged everyone she could, stopping to squeeze Nova and Mia extra tight. “You’ll come to Vancouver over break, yeah?” she asked. They’d discovered their fall break fell over a home game stint. 

Mia nodded, flashing a metal filled smile that had come out more and more as the days went on. “I talked to dad. He said he thinks he can get work off.” 

“Great. You have my number, so call me when you’re ready to talk.” Part of the way through their beach day, Mia had asked if she could interview Sarah for her science class. She was supposed to ask a scientist about their use of the scientific method. 

Sarah had laughed and pointed out the sticker on her water bottle. “You can’t use this in school. But this is basically the theory.” The sticker had the steps of the scientific method in a circle with the words ‘fuck around and find out’ around the outside. “I’ll give you some more eloquent answers, though,” she’d promised, knocking her shoulder into Mias as they laughed.

As he watched Sarah interact with his family, Quinn asked Jack if he wanted to drive with them. He agreed if they could stop for dinner in the city on the way back. 

On the drive, Sarah made Quinn explain how everyone was related again. Jack jumped in to help when he forgot something, or he had a different way of remembering who belonged to what family. 

Watching Sarah recite their family tree from the passenger seat, a sense of deja vu passed through Jack. Like seeing how she reacted after the loss, seeing her dedication to knowing how everyone their family loved fit together, he understood how his brother had fallen so hard and so fast. 

When they arrived at the airport, Jack took care of getting Sarah’s bags out of the car so she and Quinn could have a few moments alone. Stepping onto the curb, he noticed several girls with their cell phones out, twittering and gossiping. All of their cameras were pointed at Sarah and Quinn, who were sharing a sweet goodbye. It could be a coincidence, but Jack put himself between the girls and his brother anyway. 

When they finally parted, Sarah turned to Jack and wrapped him in a tight hug. He responded in kind, briefly lifting her off her feet. “See you soon?” 

“Yeah.” 

Turning back to Quinn, she threw her arms around him again. “I love you,” she whispered against his ear. 

“I love you, too.” 

Pulling back to look into his face, her hands moved to his jaw. “Only three weeks.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, keeping his voice quiet enough that Jack wouldn’t hear the emotion choking it. 

“I’ll call when I get home.”

“And on your layover.” 

“And on my layover,” she agreed before leaning up to press another soft kiss to his lips. 

Watching her disappear into the crowd was the worst part. He sniffed. 

Jack’s hand slipped onto his shoulder, and Quinn felt a comforting squeeze. 

They got back into the car to head back to the cabin.  

As Quinn pulled onto the freeway, Jack said, “I like her. She’s good for you.”  

Though he knew Jack wasn’t feeling quite so defensive anymore, it was the first time he’d openly said he liked them together. 

Quinn beamed, holding out a fist for Jack to bump.

“So can she come to Hawaii?” Quinn asked as they pulled off to go to the Chipotle. 

Jack choked on the water he was drinking. “I don’t —” his mind scrambled for the reasons he gave before. “I mean, Sarah’s gonna be on every other family vacation until the end of time, right?” 

Smiling, Quinn nodded, glad that Jack was picking up the vision. 

“Can we have this this one just us? For the last time?” 

He understood Jack’s reasoning, even if it did mean he wouldn’t see Sarah for another two weeks. Sighing, Quinn nodded. 

Jack smiled to himself, knowing this surprise was going to be epic. 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[thedemoninme141]

Operation Oreo

Wrote this cause @ortegalvr and @cobaltperun inspired me a little. Never thought I would write fluff.

Summary: A jealous Wednesday buys you Oreos...

It had taken an hour of pleading, sweet-talking, and even a few light-hearted bribes, but you’d finally managed to get Wednesday to agree to go with you to the carnival. She was by your side now, looking as out of place as ever in her all-black attire, her expression one of deep displeasure.

Wednesday scanned the surroundings with a sharp gaze, her mind undoubtedly filled with thoughts of a million better things she could be doing. The only reason she hadn't slipped away into the shadows was because of you. Her loyalty, or perhaps something more, kept her grounded. Still, she was just about ready to tell you that she was leaving when a lanky boy from Ajax’s group approached.

"Hey, I got these for you," the boy said, holding out a open packet of Oreos. "I remember you mentioned these were your favorite."

You blinked in pleasant surprise, smiling as you accepted one from the packet. "Thank you! That's really thoughtful."

You laughed at something he said, and Wednesday's eyes narrowed. She wasn’t entirely sure if Oreos were your favorite, though she was mildly annoyed at herself for not knowing. But any regret she felt was quickly overshadowed by a surge of jealousy as she watched the boy inch closer to you, clearly enjoying your attention a bit too much for her liking.

Without a word, Wednesday turned on her heel and strode through the crowd, her eyes locking onto Enid, who was in line for food. The werewolf was balancing a tray of snacks when Wednesday grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the line.

“Wednesday! What gives? I’m going to lose my spot!” Enid complained, nearly dropping everything as she was dragged along.

“Where can I find a carton of Oreos?” Wednesday asked, her tone flat but her eyes flashing with an emotion Enid struggled to decipher.

Enid’s confusion only lasted a moment before she spotted the boy sharing his Oreos with you and your smile. A grin spread across her face as she pieced it together. “Ohhh, I see what this is about. Wednesday Addams, jealous? I never thought I’d see the day!”

“Enid.” Wednesday’s voice was a warning, cold enough to shut Enid up, but not before she couldn’t resist teasing her one last time.

"Don't worry, Ajax and I will help you with Operation Oreo."

The next thing you knew, you and Wednesday were sitting in the backseat of Ajax’s car as he drove, Enid beside him literally choking because it was too hard to hold the laughter inside.

Enid had practically shoved you inside. The car was crammed with packs of Oreos, a ridiculous amount, so many that there was barely any room for the two of you to sit. The sight was so absurd that it took everything you had not to burst out laughing.

Wednesday, on the other hand, was staring intently out the window, refusing to meet your gaze. Her shoulders were tense, and you could see the faintest hint of pink on her pale cheeks.

You knew this gesture, this utterly nonsensical yet endearing over-the-top display, had been her way of staking a claim, of showing that she cared in her own peculiar way.

You reached over and gently touched her hand. “Wednesday…”

She turned to you, her eyes softening just a fraction. “He shouldn’t have given you those Oreos. It should've been me. I should have known they were your favorite.”

You finally let the giggle escape, your heart swelling with affection. “It’s okay. You know now, and you didn’t have to do all this.”

Wednesday frowned, glancing around at the mountains of cookies surrounding you both. “Perhaps it was… excessive.”

“Maybe a little,” you teased lightly. “But it’s the thought that counts. I love that you’d do something like this for me, Wednesday. It means a lot.”

“Let’s never speak of this again,” she said, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward.

You nodded, still holding back your laughter. “Agreed.”

Some Oreos between you two crumbled in their packets as you moved closer to her to put your head on her shoulder, who cares about broken Oreos? You like KitKats more anyway.

[ Author's note: Its been exactly one year since Celine left. Its been a rough year old friend, I miss exploring the lands between with you.]

Our other works are here.

[loudclan-clangen]

The song “Beautiful Little Fool” for Fiercestripe? Because I am not getting over her death. Listened to it and she was the first character to pop into my head.

You’re so right!

YES! Please do, I would love to see it!

The boring answer is that I've been drawing cats for a VERY long time. I think since I was 8 they have been the majority of what I drew. The less boring answer is you know the movie Spirit? It changed my life. It had a bonus video where one of the artists taught you how to draw Spirit himself and it was the singular thing that inspired me to start drawing (more likely possessed me). I think I must have been about two the first time I saw it because I cannot remember a time before I had that video memorized. I would spend hours sitting in front of that video (which was only like 10-15 minutes long) with a stack of papers just fully focused on perfectly following his instructions. I still think about that video to this day. Every time I draw legs the voice of James Baxter echoes through my mind. I don't know if that translates to why my cats are so beefy, I own a cat who is quite chonky, so that might contruibute to it, but now you have a fun fact about me regardless!

All of the heirs are chosen based on birth order! Whoever is born first gets to be heir. I personally find that making strict rules about stuff makes playing the game a lot easier for me, I find it stressful to try to pick a "good heir" when I don't know what's going to happen later in the game so to limit that I just let it be completely out of my hands. 2. The game rolled for Songpaw to become a medicine cat! I would have changed it if he was an only kit or probably if I had known that Dashpaw was gonna die, cause I was really stressed about losing my run at that point, but I do my best to write a story that makes the game make sense rather than change what the game gives me when possible. I think it helps me to not have much of a story in mind while I play, just noting down events and thoughts and then going back and piecing it all together afterwards. That way nothing can "go wrong". 3. "Heir-hood" only applies to the leaders. There is no expectation that Cavepaw will become a healer. When Weed dies that position will be open until someone wishes to volunteer for it. 4. Honestly I don't really know. This might spoil a little bit, of tension, but I truly never had that happen. I was SUPER worried about it and did a lot to make sure it wouldn't, but after a couple of generations you get to a point where almost everyone is descended from a leader at somepoint. (And also everyone is second cousins with each other but you know what there are some problems that you just have to live with.) I image the clan would look for an omen and just pick a new leader based off of that and start the process all over again. In my experience worst comes to worst just make sure you have a very accurate family tree and trace it back a couple of generations.

Thank you so much! I don't play with any mods for Loudclan, I'm too scared to lose saves to less than stable code. My favorite mod currently is Kori's Awoogen though! I just like to look at the beautiful art mostly. I use mass extinction as population control, so I turn it on and off based on how many cats I have. Two full pages is the upper limit of what I'm willing to deal with, so once a third page opens I turn mass extinction on and after an extinction happens I turn it back off. (also if I dip below 1 full page I turn unknown parents on until I'm back to two pages again). I've found after a couple of generations you can mostly stop worrying about it because the bloodlines have spread so far there's always someone who's a 6th great great cousin or something.

The game generated him Dashpelt! I probably would have picked Dashfoot to stick with the generated them of a boring suffix but to make more sense overall.