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rinhaler · 4 months ago

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And if I Change My Mind it's Far Too Late

All you want to do is celebrate your best friends birthday. But you can't even find him. Why are things so weird tonight?

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ best friend!rin itoshi x f!reader

Genre: friends2lovers ++ porn !! Notes: I'm so late for rinnie's birthday I suck lmao !! enjoy tho Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, drug use!(weed), dubcon, slight shotgunning?, friends to lovers ♡, rin is angsty!, weed paranoia, love bites ♡, dacryphilia ♡, pet names (princess, baby, sweetheart) ♡, he licks ur messy panties, makeshift gag on u! (the panties), spit + drool, pussy eating ♡, fingering, slight hair pulling, overstimming ♡, calls ur pussy 'she' ♡, reader is a crybaby ♡, spanks ur pussy once !, oral fixation, praise ♡, use of 'good girl' ♡, slight degradation (slut), pussy job ♡, vaginal sex, mating press, dumbification ♡, creampie ♡. Words: 13.3k

—

He isn’t here.

I don’t know where he is, but he isn’t here.

Sae Itoshi’s words have been rattling around your brain for the last thirty minutes. It’s late, late enough that the night sky above you is nought but a black abyss. The city lights pollute the infinite void above you and scare the stars enough to dim their shine.

Not a single twinkle can be seen as your feet come together and you look up, almost craving an answer from the heaven’s. All you receive in turn is an obsidian silence.

There’s a pang of dread writhing through your body as you continue to roam the desolate streets, weaving through alleyways as you see stores and restaurants that have been abandoned for the evening as the proprietor’s rest and recuperate for the day to follow. When the streets are lit by a blue sky and blazing sun and showcase a slew of potential customers that can be invited in to shop, or sit and gorge themselves on a sickly sweet dessert or a hearty meal.

It's 2am.

Everyone should be safely indoors, whether sleeping soundly or curled up with a hot drink and a cosy book; or even the sound of fictitious characters chattering about nothing in particular as a blue light from a screen fills the room and helps the audience feel a little less alone.

That’s what you should be doing.

Letting a false reality consume you in the safety of your own home instead of walking through the city like this. You have a cake in your hand and a balloon wrapped around your wrist, you’ve never felt lonelier.

A group of men emerge from an alleyway and your heart freezes. You know that you shouldn’t be out at night, alone. But nothing happens. A mere glance in your direction before they continue on their way, and you emit a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.

That stab of fear is the catalyst to convince you to go home, turning on your heel as you start walking in the direction of your apartment. Your strides become brisker as you think about being followed. Your mind intent on terrifying you despite nothing really happening.

It’s the terror of the dark, the unknown of that abyssal sky.

Is this the same view that Rin has, right now? You wonder if he’s cold, blanketed in the bitterness of the Autumn air with the same paranoia wracking through your body and bubbling beneath your skin as you traverse through the city.

He could be anywhere, after all.

He isn’t here.

I don’t know where he is, but he isn’t here.

It hurts as you reflect on all of the text messages you’d sent him leading up to your visit. Sae looked less than pleased to see you at such an unholy hour. In hindsight, you should have just stayed home. But you had the grandiose idea to surprise him and spend the night with him, despite not being invited.

It wouldn’t be a surprise if you were.

You assumed he was asleep when you didn’t receive a reply. But now it seems he’s actively ignoring you. You don’t think you’ve done anything wrong, though you suppose you’ll never know until he decides to get in touch.

Sae’s befuddled expression is cemented in your mind as you recall him drinking in the sight of you despite being irritated that you showed up unannounced. The way you stood with the cake and balloon must have surprised him, but you didn’t let it dissuade you.

“It’s a birthday tradition.”

“You’ve only known him for three months, how can you have a—”

“How do you think traditions get started? There’s always a first.”

He rolled his eyes at you, hard. But despite his desperate attempt of hiding it, there was an obvious smirk on his face as you spoke. It was childish, but charming, hearing you say something so innocent so brazenly. And still, his brief enchantment from your declaration couldn’t alter the facts.

He isn’t here.

I don’t know where he is, but he isn’t here.

It makes you worry that he’s grown tired of you. It isn’t like he wanted to be your friend, anyway. You forced that title upon him, and he just decided not to reject you.

That must count for something at least.

You think so, anyway.

He’s been in your life for a mere three months, and still, you can’t imagine your days without him in it anymore. You started working in the music section of a department store four months ago, and Rin was hired just a month later.

What he lacks in desire to communicate with anyone, he makes up for in his musical knowledge. You can’t fathom why else he was hired. A few of the other applicants might have been better suited, but you think your manager might have believed Rin to be the least trouble. He’s reserved and does his job well.

Immediately, you were instructed to show him the ropes despite only having a month’s extra experience at your disposal. Your boss had trained you, but seemed he was too lazy to offer the same to Rin. Why explain himself twice when he can just make you do it?

You don’t begrudge him, though. It gave you an excuse to talk to him, after all. He slowly but surely began to let you in, not that you gave him much choice. You’d always greet him excitedly as your workday began together, or you’d bring him his favourite coffee if you started a little later.

The possibility of a workplace crush wasn’t lost on you, but that’s all it was. It wasn’t obvious enough for him to comment on, or perhaps he simply didn’t care. After a few weeks of working with him, you thought he must be used to it. He was never short of female attention, despite never feeding into it.

He might find it easy to ignore when he receives it so often. You didn’t outwardly flirt with him. You were just a little nicer to him than your other colleagues. It became clear he wasn’t interested, though. You assumed he simply didn’t find you attractive or maybe he already had a girlfriend.

The latter, now, you know isn’t the case and now you… have a boyfriend… of your own. You’re happy to just be friends with him, you get along well. Even though he’s so blasé, you have fun with him at work.

You smirk when girls enter expecting to do nothing more than browse, and then they wind up listening to him explain facts about different bands they obviously aren’t interested in. He doesn’t even realise they’re fawning over him as they end up losing themselves to the allure of his dulcet tones and the glimmer of his dreamy teal eyes.

He’ll ring them up with a record and hand them a receipt, and you’ve lost count of how many times they give the receipt back with their phone numbers scribbled on. He always pockets them, carelessly, until given the opportunity to discard of them.

“You aren’t gonna call her?” you’d ask.

“I did my job, why would I need to call her?”

His monotone speech always leaves you wondering the truth.

Is he truly oblivious to it, or is he just pretending to be?

Your approach at work, however, is different. While he ignores flirting, you welcome it. Selling records isn’t a difficult task, people browsing often know what they want. And still, older men love talking down to you. It’s a daily occurrence when you’re on the clock, they get off on it. You aren’t sure how Rin feels about it, he seldom interferes.

You’ll flutter your lashes and flaunt your chest as a man whose wife doesn’t appreciate him anymore ogles you and tells you a thing or two, or ten, about his favourite bands that: “You’ve probably never heard of.”

The light in their eye is evident as their cocks stir in their pants while you pout and nod along to whatever they tell you. You throw a few compliments and act clueless as they prattle on and on. And, it’s funny how unique and profound they think they are for liking specific bands they’re certain you know nothing about.

And, sure, maybe the first dozen times you were a little out of your depth. But the more lecherous customers you got, the more you realised, they all listen to the same shit and you could probably recite the things they want to say to you right back at them.

You don’t, though, you remain compliant and interested and so wholly enthralled in them. Because that is how you make sales. Letting a sad old man think a hot young thing half their age is even a little interested in them. It’s easy, and it works. It’s easy to manipulate someone when you pretend they’re the coolest and most intriguing customer you’ve had all day.

Rin has spoilt a few sales for you since he started but it never dampens your mood. He doesn’t do it intentionally, of course, and it always leaves you grinning or snickering at the expense of the poor sap who thought you were putty in his hand.

You know a little about music, your taste has certainly broadened since you began working here. But Rin is almost entirely responsible for that. You know a little, but Rin knows a lot. And while you’re flirting up a storm, if you’re in close proximity to Rin, he’ll join in on the conversation. The older men tend to avoid him because somehow he happens to know the same, if not more, about the music they think they know everything about.

Somehow, Rin possesses more musical prowess than they could ever dream of, despite their age. He’s younger, but he’ll have more passion in him than they ever will.

You admire him, truly.

You like music, but Rin loves it.

When the store is empty, he’ll introduce you to music you’d never heard and smile when he finds something you know you’ll be listening to on your walk home. And in turn you’d play pop songs you assumed he’d hate but he’d actually compliment and enjoy. He isn’t pretentious, he doesn’t think one genre is better than another.

He just loves music.

You think about your shifts together as you continue to head home. Maybe he has more interest in those girls than he lets on. Maybe that’s where he is right now. There’s a chance he isn’t being pulled into the all-consuming dread of the night sky like you. He’s hooking up as a birthday treat. You find your thoughts spiralling, wondering what type of girls he’s into and what it would take to be the girl that Rin Itoshi finds worthy of a chance.

And soon enough, you jolt as you feel your phone buzz against your hip. It’s sitting snuggly in the pocket of your sweatpants. The string from the balloon begins to pull and twang as it bounces from your wrist, you skilfully transfer the cake you’re holding in one hand to the other as you fish it out of your pocket.

Before you can fully digest the push notification of a spam email on your home screen, your screensaver is plunged into darkness. Your eyes widen as you’re met with an accept and decline button from an incoming call. You aren’t sure how to feel when you see Rin Itoshi in bold letters at the top of the screen. Relief flows through you, but so does worry.

And still, you answer.

“Hey.” he says, plainly. He isn’t the type of person you’re used to having phone calls with. You know he’s more of a texter, though his responses are dry. It’s enough to make plans and communicate with him easily.

“Hey…” you say, trailing off. It feels ominous. A call at 2am out of the blue from a guy that’s been ignoring you while you’re walking through the city is bound to leave you a little anxious. The sooner you get home, the better. “… Happy birthday.” you say, even now, there’s a smile on your face. It’s small, but he hears it.

“Thanks.” he says, coolly. You can’t fathom why he’d call you if he doesn’t actually want to talk to you. “You already said it at midnight, though.”

“Yeah… I wanted to say it again. You didn’t reply.” you remind him, gently. A beat of silence goes by before he speaks again.

“I know,” he responds, quietly. “I’m at the skate park.”

“Oh.” you say, not having expected that response. But, thinking about it now, it seems far more obvious than him hooking up with a random girl. You clear your throat, standing outside of your apartment as you find a way to continue the conversation. “… are you having fun?”

“I guess.” he tells you, clearing his throat. “Sae said you came over.”

“Y-Yeah, sorry. I didn’t know you weren’t home. It was… dumb.”

“It’s fine,” he says calmly. You can’t help but wonder if he agrees that it’s dumb or not, though it’s a fruitless thought to have. You know Rin well enough to know he won’t elaborate. You begin to pace back and forth, your heart pounding as you wait for the inevitable end of the conversation. “Come over.”

You stop, again, unsure if you heard him right. The smile on your face begins to widen as you hear him say it in your mind again and again. He wants you there, he wants to spend the early hours of his birthday with you.

The skatepark isn’t far from where you live. A ten minute walk, fifteen at most. Though with the pep in your step as you begin to head over there, you wouldn’t be surprised if you make it there in five.

“Are you sure?” you ask, in spite of it being too late. He’s already extended the invite and you’ll be there in no time flat. You can’t help but feel strange about the entire situation, though. It’s almost eerie how things are panning out. First he was ignoring your texts and now he’s calling you for the first time in a long time and inviting you to hang out.

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to see you.” he informs you. You feel your face begin to warm up, and you bite your lip in appreciation. “It’s dark, I’m by the half pipe.”

“Okay, I’ll see you in a few. Bye.”

He doesn’t say it back, simply ending the call as you venture towards your destination. The orange tint of the city soon becoming a distant memory as you nervously approach the outskirts of town.

—

The sound of wheels rolling against the wooden half pipe is louder than anything you’ve heard before as you approach. You don’t say anything, wondering if he’ll see you despite it being pitch black. You look up at the sky as you get closer, the light pollution has become a fast-fading memory as the stars dazzle a little brighter now.

His actions begin to slow as you approach, the wheels stopping completely as he finally sees you. He looks at you, carefully, shielding his eyes from the outer glow from the distant streetlights surrounding your body. One eye scrunches closed until you stand beside him. He towers above you, intimidating you with little effort. He tries to soften his expression, but his eyes struggle to adjust.

“Happy birthday… again.”

“Thanks, again.” he smiles a little. “You even got cake… Did you bring anything to eat it with?”

“No, because I thought you’d be at home. Why are you even—”

“It’s fine, I can take it home.” he tells you, taking the cake from your grip before you can react.

He sets it down on the ground, gesturing for you to follow him as he walks a little up the curve. You follow him, and he effortlessly raises you by your hips until you’re sitting comfortably on the flat surface. You’re thankful it’s so dark, you hope he’s unable to see how flustered you’ve become. You pout as you attempt to take shallow breaths and sweat begins to bead at your hairline.

You compose yourself as he hands the cake back to you, and he hoists himself up to sit by your side. He watches you as you shuffle your body, facing him head on with your legs crossed, and he immediately follows suit.

“A cake and a balloon, you went all out.” he says nonchalantly. You aren’t sure how to react until you see a slight smile play on his lips.

“I didn’t get you a gift.”

“That’s okay, this is more than you needed to do.” he explains. You move the cake out of your way before sliding closer to him, you untie the balloon from your own wrist and attach it to his. You can tell he wants to object, but you feel slight a slight note of pity emanating from him as you proceed.

He doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.

“How long do I have to keep this on for?” he wonders.

“The entire day, you’ve gotta sleep with this on.” you tease him, he laughs a little in turn before it falls deathly silent again. You shuck the little backpack you’ve been wearing off before opening the front compartment, rummaging through it to find what you’re searching for. “I didn’t bring candles… but maybe this can count for your gift.” you start.

He watches you, smirking happily as you retrieve a blunt and a lighter from your bag. You move the backpack aside and pull the cake closer. He continues to stare as you remove the plastic covering from the entirely chocolate cake, taking it from your hands as you hold the blunt between your lips. You light it, taking a hard drag before gently exhaling. His eyes close softly as you aim directly for his face, backing away slightly out of the line of fire. He opens them again, though, watching as you poke the blunt through the centre of the cake. The orange embers still burning as the wind blows.

“… Oh that’s gonna be gross if any ash gets on it.” you laugh. “It was a cute idea in my head.”

“Yeah, it’ll be disgusting.” he reiterates, quickly pulling the joint out from the middle before perching it between his lips. “This tastes like chocolate now.”

“That was my plan all along.” you grin. He takes a few more drags as you place the plastic packaging back over the cake, setting it aside once more. You reach your hand out as he hands it back to you, the balloon attached to him lagging along with him.

You can’t put a finger on why things seem to be so awkward between you. Maybe there’s a lingering feeling of hurt as you contemplate why he didn’t respond to your texts. It’s taking everything in you to not wish him a happy birthday for the fourth time.

Instead, you fuel the silence by smoking more and more. It’s not the strongest stuff you’ve ever had, but there’s a second one in your bag so you don’t feel guilty about smoking more than you probably should. He doesn’t say anything, and you’ve decided to keep your eyes firmly closed in a bid to ignore how weirdly uncomfortable things seem to be.

“Oh!” you exclaim, eyes shooting open quickly. It almost scares Rin, his body froze for a moment but you hadn’t realised in your excitement. “Did you make a wish?”

“What?” he raises an eyebrow, perplexed. It’s scary how similar he and his brother look. It’s the same expression Sae had offered you when you arrived at his apartment tonight.

“When you smoked… because it’s like your candle. So you should make a wish!” you explain, but you’re met with a continuous stare as he seems to be trying to unfurl the mess that is your train of thought. It makes perfect sense in your mind, but given his expression, you wonder if you just spoke another language. His incredulity fades and is soon replaced by an amused sneer.

“Are you high already?” he laughs.

“Oh… maybe. It has been a while.” you giggle.

Soon enough, you’re both laughing uncontrollably. Tears begin to stream down your face, and it only makes him laugh harder. And the sight of him so utterly entertained makes you laugh harder. It’s so rare to see him smile, let alone laugh. It’s hurting your stomach; you hold your sides as you allow yourself to fall backwards and carry on cackling.

“This— I didn’t think— It wasn’t supposed to be strong!” you struggle to explain, immediately bursting into laughter once again. He tries to keep composed but is soon laughing alongside you. He combs his fingers through his hair before using the sleeves of his hoodie to wipe away his own tears.

“It’s not. You’re just a lightweight.” he notes. He slowly moves, allowing his back to rest against the metal framing before throwing his hood up, tucking his knees into his chest. He’s still smiling, though, your silly outburst still at the forefront of his mind.

You sit upright again, your laughter finally beginning to subside as you look at him. His smile fades as yours does. And now, you’re both nervous. What went wrong? Why are things so weird? And then, you feel it brewing. Regardless of how badly you want to choke it down, you can’t seem to help yourself.

“Happy birthday.” you almost whisper, echoing his body language as you lean against the railing nearest to you. He scoffs lightly, but with a wide, cheesy grin on his face before looking at you again.

“You’ve said it four times now. I think you’re happier about my birthday than I am.”

“I think I am, too.” you giggle, biting your lip again as you look down at your knees. You quickly shake it away, remembering where you are and who you’re with. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know! I love being friends with you, Rin. And I’ve been excited to celebrate today with you. And we get to do it from pretty much the start!”

He goes quiet, scratching the back of his neck as he looks away uncomfortably. You gulp, nervously, almost retreating into your own body as you hug your legs tightly. He can barely bring himself to look at you, though you see his eyes occasionally flicker to the ever shortening blunt in your hand.

That’s when you decide to approach him, crawling towards him on your hands and knees like a demure, weak kitten desperate for approval. You hold it out for him, and he accepts it, slowly. You sit beside him, your legs touching as you look out to the distant city. It’s beautiful, from here. It looks so lively.

“… Why did you come here, tonight?” you wonder, hoping a gentle probe will provide some kind of insight to his mental state.

Your head slowly rotates as you look at him. Even in the darkness, his eyes shimmer brilliantly. Instead of anything of substance, though, his shoulders merely shrug. You decide not to pry any further. He isn’t the type you can force information out of, he’ll only give it willingly.

You know that well, even with only knowing him for three months. And because of that, your heart skips a beat as you hear him take a shallow breath, clearly wrestling with telling you something. Anything that may make things clearer to you.

“I— I suppose I had a feeling,” he pauses, taking another drag before letting his head thud gently backwards against the metal railing. “You were gonna try and do something like this.”

“… I didn’t know you would be so against it. I’m sorry.”

“No it’s fine,” he continues. “It doesn’t matter, we’re here now. Thank you for the balloon, and the cake. And this.” he says as he gestures to the blunt in his hand.

You feel a little at ease, now. Without saying a lot he’s said enough. Knowing the type of guy that Rin Itoshi is, you should have known he wouldn’t want anyone to make a fuss about his birthday. He’s reserved and low key, he’s an introvert, of course he wouldn’t want a fuss for his birthday.

And still, there’s a gnawing unease.

You’re a little forceful with your friendship, and you’re under no illusions that it’s likely annoying for him. But he’s never outright ignored you before. He holds no issue with telling you when you’re bothering him or he wants to be left alone, you’d never push his buttons on purpose.

But tonight…

There’s a tension between you that you can’t seem to place, and he seems intent on ignoring.

“… Rin?” you start. “Why did you ignore my texts?”

He shuffles uncomfortably, you even hear him clear his throat before taking another drag. And after he exhales, it’s followed by a disappointed sigh. Your anxiety spikes. What have you done wrong? It must be something to make him act like this. It’s so out of character to the Rin you know.

But maybe that’s the problem.

You barely know him.

Maybe this is the Rin you don’t know.

“… Do we have to discuss this now?”

—

You’ve almost forgotten where you are.

You’ve almost forgotten who you’re with as the calmness envelops you.

There’s a palpable tension between the two of you that you can’t seem to pinpoint or address. You’re high, stupidly so. And still logical enough to not poke the angsty bear that is Rin Itoshi. You’ve been lying on your back, admiring the starry sky as you contemplate why things are the way they are with your favourite co-worker.

He’s more than that, though.

You think he might be your best friend.

Is there a set amount of time that needs to be spent before addressing him as such? Three months doesn’t feel like a lot, but the time you’ve known him hasn’t just been shifts.

The days you’d meet him at work soon turned into times you’d spend commuting there with him. Instead of taking the bus home you’d walk with him. When you’d bring him coffee he’d start to return the favour by buying you your favourite snacks from the bakery.

Instead of walking near your apartment he’d walk you all of the way to the door. And eventually, he’d come in. After the first time he accidentally fell asleep on your couch, he’d spend the night purposefully. You’ve spent countless nights getting high together at your place, and soon enough you’d be doing the same at his apartment.

You didn’t know what a big deal it was that he introduced you to his older brother until he told you how strained their relationship had been in the past. But they live together, now, and they seem fine. Whether Sae likes you is still up for debate, but he’s joined in when you’re getting stoned together in the front room and arguing with his brother about which music you should play. Their tastes are similar, but things vary when getting down to the specifics.

Their parents taste has affected their own, Rin favouring his mother’s whilst Sae prefers his father’s.

Three months ago you could barely pry his name out of him. But now, you’re drowning in the overwhelming sky that looms over you thinking about all of the time you’ve spent together. You’ve known how much you enjoy being with him since that very first day, though you aren’t quite sure if he feels the same way.

“I’m hungry.” you say aloud rather than to yourself like you’d intended. You sit upright when you hear Rin begin to shuffle, too, realising he’d been reflecting in the obsidian mirror above him, too. He stares at you, expressionless. “Are you ma—” you want to ask him if he’s feeling some type of way about you, but you’re interrupted by a loud rumble from his stomach.

“Fuck.” he sighs.

“… Should we eat the cake?” you wonder. You can’t hide the devious grin on your face as you enjoy Rin’s cool exterior being foiled by the all too human need of hunger. You don’t even wait for him to answer, pulling the cake closer for the umpteenth time before removing the packaging. He grimaces as you break off a chunk with your thumb and forefinger, crumbs tumbling off as you lift it into your mouth. And you moan, obscenely, as the sugary sweetness encases your tongue. “Oh my God that’s good. Try some!” you encourage him.

“… fuck it.” he rolls his eyes, dragging himself closer to the cake before copying you. His eyes roll, again, this time into the back of his head as he begins to satiate his hunger.

You both continue to eat, silently, savouring the flavour of the cake you so expertly chose. It’s hard, being like this. Because you know that usually you’d be chattering away about other employees you work with even though Rin doesn’t care about gossip. He’ll listen to you intently while he eats and before you know it his plate is clean while you’re struggling to understand how he eats so fast.

But tonight, you’re silent.

All of your thoughts remain trapped in your mind as you eat. Bite after bite as it crumbles and messes beneath you and tarnishes the hollow wood beneath you.

And it’s funny, you’re the one who’s usually watching Rin as you talk and talk until you’ve run out of steam. But tonight, you can barely look at him. The same can’t be said for him, though. You see him looking at you a few times when you dare to offer a glance his way, but just as quickly, you avert your eyes.

He doesn’t, though.

He eats slowly, admiring you as you eat the cake you’d so kindly purchased for him. He can’t ignore how crestfallen you look, and yet, there’s still a radiance about you. The outer glow of the city lights barely halos around you like you are some kind of angel. The gentle yet biting breeze of the September sky billows through your hair that you’d messily tucked away into a low bun.

His intense turquoise eyes only leave you for fractions of a second when he needs to blink. He isn’t sure why he’s staring, but he’s putting it down to being stoned. It’s almost like an anchor, watching you attentively as you embrace the rich, sugary taste that you can’t seem to get enough of. While he feels like he’s moving in slow motion, his consumption slow and steady.

He chuckles lightly as he sees a small piece of cake fall from your fingers and you desperately try to bite at it. It’s too late, however, and you simply huff as you look at it beside you. He smirks, again, when he sees that you’ve accidentally smudged chocolate on the corner of your lip.

Your head jerks as he whistles quickly, like a dog owner summons the attention of their pet. He closes the distance between you as you leans in close to you, your heart rate heightening as you note how close his face is to yours. His throat bulges as he swallows the cake he’d been eating, and your eyes drop to his lips. You can’t even bring yourself to smile when you note a few gentle streaks of chocolate that have stained between the creases, you only feel your stomach sink when you look back into his eyes and realise he’s been watching you stare.

He leans in closer, and your eyes flutter shut. Though they soon open again when you fail to register the press of his lips on your own. He wipes the smudge from your face and shows the chocolate residue to you.

He’s paralysed you.

As much as you want to smile, to laugh awkwardly at what a fool you’ve made of yourself, you can’t. You’re frozen in place as you watch him. Nothing could have prepared you for the sight of him gently wetting his tongue with a deliberate curl of his tongue. His eyes bore into yours without faltering as his lips pucker around his thumb, making sure there isn’t a single trace of chocolate still there.

He grins, seeing the quick puff of breath you exhale in desperation. Your eyes flicker around, a feeble attempt of looking anywhere but at him. You squeak, quietly, as his sultry tone breaks the overwhelming silence between you.

“I’m not usually a chocolate fan,” he tells you before grabbing another chunk of cake. “But this is really good.”

“… M-Maybe it’s because you’re high?” you respond after wracking your mind for something to say in turn. You can’t wrap your head around what that was. You’ve never seen him like this before.

He’s wordlessly decided he’s blaming everything on being high.

Maybe you can, too.

“… Rin?” you speak, plucking up the courage from somewhere as you dare to whisper his name. He looks at you, briefly, before rolling his eyes. He knows. Of course he already knows what you’re about to ask him. He keeps avoiding the question that you’re yearning for an answer for.

“Don’t.” he tells you.

“But—”

“Just… don’t.” he commands, though his voice loses the assertiveness it had previously. He looks at you, and you swear you feel your heart twist in your chest as you see what you can only deduct as disappointment looming in his eyes. He looks at your backpack, again, and back at you. “… did you bring more weed?”

—

You lie side by side as you take turns passing the blunt between one another. He does all he can to focus on the sky, even when he feels your eyes on him. Your head turns, chin almost resting on your shoulder as you stare. You stare brazenly just as he did before.

And still, he won’t look at you.

He takes a long drag and doesn’t exhale, his lips slightly ajar as he allows a thin trail of smoke to dance from between his lips. And you stare on, longingly, as you wonder what’s going on inside that head of his.

You wish you could crawl inside of him and burrow your way into his brain. There’s nothing more you want right now than to nestle through brain matter until you reach the uncertain core at the centre of everything. The dismal part of his brain that’s so secretive and yet so inviting.

What does he want from you?

He turns his head as he passes the blunt to you, though he stutters backwards a little when he notices you were already looking at him. A soft ‘tch’ leaves him before you take it from him.

“Quit it.” he warns you, though there’s no malice or intent in it. He looks at you softly, and your own harsh gaze becomes gentler. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.” he tells you. Your breath hitches as he speaks, but you can’t bring yourself to respond.

Your eyes close as his fingers begin to tenderly caress your cheeks, and he tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

“You’re so… fragile.” he says. Your eyes shoot open, at that. He laughs a little, though it’s barely noticeable, and it doesn’t deter him from his careful touch. He means it, you can feel it in the way he’s being with you. He’s toying with you as if you were made of glass. And if that’s how he feels, you wonder why he’s doing this at all.

“Rin?”

“Don’t.”

“No… why did you invite me out here?” you ask, hoping to disarm him. His expression that had hardened so quickly is gone in a blink, an earnest smile takes over him instead. He withdraws his hand, and now, you’ve never felt colder.

“I wanted to see you, that’s all.” he explains.

And it’s enough, it should be enough. It’s an answer to your question and yet it gives you so little. You’re starved, though. What he gives you isn’t enough, it’s never enough. You’ve made do for so long with useless scraps that you forgot what it feels like to truly be satiated, you want to eat him alive. You’d devour him whole, tear meat from the bone with ravenous fangs if it meant you could finally be satisfied. But as soon as your lips part, you close them once more.

You no longer have the energy, your body can’t be sustained from pitiful scraps any longer.

“Things are weird.” he mumbles. You nod, agreeing, and he looks at you wistfully. “I don’t want them to be.”

“… I don’t know how to fix it, Rin.” you confess.

He clears his throat, a little surprised by your answer before he looks up at the sky again. You follow suit, wondering what he could be thinking about this time.

“Why didn’t you get me a gift?” he cuts through the sharp, agonising quiet with something you really hadn’t expected him to say. Almost in unison, you’re looking at one another yet again. Your eyes narrow, though his face remains stoic. You aren’t sure why, really. You love giving gifts, but perhaps a small part of you thought he wouldn’t appreciate one from you.

And maybe a smaller part of you thought he might not deserve one.

“I thought you didn’t care?”

“I don’t,” he nods, agreeing with the sentiment. “But you bought a cake, and a balloon. I was wondering why a gift is where you draw the line.”

“It wasn’t about drawing the line.” you tell him, rolling onto your side so you can face him directly. He doesn’t do the same, but he gingerly pulls the joint from your fingers before smoking a little more. “I didn’t know what to get you.” you lie, and he knows it too. He doesn’t shy away from making it clear, either, scoffing at your pitiful excuse.

“I don’t believe that for a second.” he says through an exhale, smoke escaping his lungs and entering the atmosphere as he talks. “You make notes of things you see while you’re shopping you think your other friends might like.”

“You’re not like my other friends.”

“… I guess.”

“You didn’t even want to see me tonight and you only invited me here because you felt bad, right? If I’d gotten you a gift, you would have hated it. I don’t know why… but I know you wouldn’t have been happy no matter what I bought for you.”

He pauses, a chilled breath revealing the true cruelty of the autumnal air shudders by his teeth. You want to shiver, and yet you’re forcing yourself not to. Regardless of how awkward the night has been, you don’t want it to end. You don’t want to give him a reason to send you home so you can part ways, the growing issue between you never becoming resolved.

“You’re probably right,” he smirks, “But I think you would have gotten me something nice. You’re thoughtful.”

And with that, the urgent need to shiver through the cold has subsided. His words seemingly enough to warm you. It’s sweet, and simple, and it makes you realise how easily pleased you are. You worry that there might be something wrong with you. He says one nice thing about you and you’re satisfied.

It’s embarrassing.

“What would you have wanted?” you ask, meekly.

“… I don’t know.” he shrugs. And, really, you shouldn’t have expected anything less than this. He’s aloof, an enigma you’re too simple to explore. You can’t delve into his mind because you don’t understand how someone can come to be so standoffish and reserved. “Maybe something to drink.” he hints.

“There’s flavoured water in my bag.” you smile.

“What flavour?”

“Strawberry,”

“Meh…” he thinks, debating whether he wants to drink it or not. “Ugh… I’ve got cotton mouth. Why did you buy flavoured?”

“Because I like it! And, again, I assumed we’d be doing this at your place.” you smile, teeth chattering unintentionally as you’re reminded what season you’re in. He looks over his shoulder as he hears you, watching as you try to hide how uncomfortable you are. He grabs the water bottle from your bag before sitting upright properly.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“N-No, I’m fine. It’s okay.” you nod. He shakes his head, quickly untying the balloon from his wrist before attaching it to your backpack so that he can pull his hoodie off. Your breathing staggers as his t-shirt rides up along with it, exposing his toned musculature before he hands it to you. “You didn’t have to give me this…” you tell him quietly, hugging it against your body as you enjoy the warmth of his own body heat.

He doesn’t say anything, he just waits patiently for you to put it on. His face scrunches at the taste of the water, but continues to drink it eagerly. There’s no better option, right now, and the dryness of his mouth is almost enough to make him choke.

“Thanks.” you smile after bundling yourself up in his hoodie. He nods curtly, handing the water bottle to you. You open your mouth repeatedly as you try and determine if your mouth is equally as dry before you begin to chug gratefully.

“All I wanted for my birthday this year was to lose my virginity.” he says, bluntly. He starts laughing as you choke on your drink, sputtering wildly and using the sleeve of his hoodie to dab up the droplets on your chin. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what?’ You’re a virgin? No you’re not, you’re fucking lying!” you reply. He laughs again as you sit fully upright and face him so that you can question him more.

“Why am I a liar?”

“B-Because! Oh my God, you have girls hitting on you at work every single day. And you don’t, I don’t know, you don’t have virgin energy.”

“Girls don’t hit on me.”

“Ohhhh I hate you, you suck. They do, are you fucking with me right now? They do!” you bark back angrily. An amused smirk remains fixated on his face as he can see your temper begin to boil over.

“Even if they did hit on me, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna have sex with them.”

“I actually hate you.” you bemoan, “This is fucked up because I can’t prove it either way. But you’re lying, I know you are!”

“Whatever helps you through this, sweetheart.” he grins, snatching the water bottle back from you. He looks at you from the corner of his eye, at how you’ve seized up from a simple little pet name. But you aren’t frozen for long, thawing out quickly from your simmering temper.

Whether this is a harmless little prank to tease you is now irrelevant, because all you can think about is what a head fuck he is. And, as much as you both might prefer, you can’t blame it on weed. Maybe if this animosity had started after you’d been smoking together, but he was ignoring you before.

And that’s when you’re brought back to it.

“Why were you ignoring my fucking texts, Rin?” you ask, harshly. And now, it’s enough for him to choke on the drink. Maybe he’s never heard you be so assertive, before. Maybe it’s because he thought you were having a harmless joke around. Nothing tonight has been harmless, though. It’s all been weird, uncomfortable, palpable.

Whether intentional or not, he’s forcing you to suffer and refusing to tell you why.

“If you don’t wanna be my friend anymore, fine, whatever. But this is fucked up, so just tell me.” you explain, voice trembling as you do. You aren’t cold, anymore, but your throat feels like it’s about to close.

“… You’re so fucking stupid.” he mutters. Twisting the lid on and off your bottle repeatedly before he shoves it aggressively back in your bag. “Do you really not get it?”

“Don’t call me that, asshole.” you snipe back.

“I don’t want to be your fucking friend.” he responds. Your stomach drops and you fight to hold back tears, failing miserably as they silently roll down your cheeks. He watches on, his aggressive expression faltering as he watches you try and wipe them away quickly.

“That’s… shitty.” you sniffle. “That’s all you had to say. You didn’t have to invite me out here and embarrass me.”

“You don’t get it.” he interjects. He shuffles closer to you, and you scramble to evade him. You want to grab your bag and run from here. From him. But as you try and hit him, push him away, he grabs your wrists and stares at you with a desperation you’ve never encountered with him before. “You’re— you’ve got a boyfriend.”

“… Huh? You ignored my texts because I have a boyfriend? What are you—”

“Listen to what I’m saying, you’re not stupid but you’re acting it because you’re riled up.” he tells you, calmly. You struggle in his hold once more, but his grip remains firm. “I didn’t want… you… fussing about my birthday. Because you have a boyfriend.”

You’re stumped. As much as you want to yell and argue what he’s saying, you can’t. He isn’t making sense and you do feel stupid, now. He’s saying words that don’t mean anything, words that are irrelevant to what you’re discussing to deflect from what you’re asking.

Has he always been like this?

You don’t know, really. You don’t know if you’ve been carrying this so-called friendship on your back and filling in the blank awkward silences with chatter about nothing. But you thought you were more than this. You thought he was smarter than this. He’s intellectual and carries himself confidently, and yet, in this moment, you can’t help but think he’s a coward.

“You sound like a fucking idiot right now.” you scowl. “Ignoring me because I wanted to celebrate your birthday because I have a boyfriend? What kind of stupid reason is that?”

His lips tighten to a straight line and porcelain skin turns pink, you can see it even encased in the darkness of the early morning sky. You can see his eyes shake as he looks at you. He wants to say something but he’s fighting against it. You can tell, he’s holding back words he wants to say as he searches for something less confrontational to tell you.

But he can’t.

For once in his life, he can’t.

“Why are you with him?” he asks, bluntly. You’re taken aback, so much so that you laugh. It’s short, and makes his anger burn further in him as he watches your reaction. “Do you even love him? Scratch that, do you even like him?”

“Fuck you, Rin. That’s none of your business!”

“You don’t, do you?” he laughs, only now it’s at your expense. It feels patronising and mean. But he can’t help himself. You hadn’t hesitated to laugh at him, only in your disbelief. But he’s being cruel. He’s doing it on purpose. “You can’t even lie to yourself. Why are you with him?”

“I hate you. I fucking hate you, Rin.” you tell him. You mean it, too. You’re trembling and you remember you’re wrapped up in his hoodie. It feels suffocating to have the warmth of cotton that had been keeping him comfortable now clinging to your skin. “Why are you being like this?”

You say flames lick behind his irises before they’re extinguished, his furious glare being doused by a glossy sheen as tears silently fall from your eyes and roll down your now sodden cheeks.

He pulls you nearer to him by the material of his hoodie, his large hand encasing your face as he tries to force you to look at him. You turn your head roughly, defiant in your pursuit of making a stand.

“Hey.” he says, it’s abrasive and stabs through you. Your soaking eyes stare into his, and he gently wipes your ever falling tears with a gentle rub of his thumbs. He smiles, a little, and you feel dizzy. Your brain is fried as his mood changes once again. “You really don’t get it?”

You blink, shaking your head.

Deep down, you know. You have a niggling feeling that you know why he’s being like this, but you worry you’re overthinking things. There must be something simpler, something likelier than what you’re delusionally imagining.

“H-He dumped me.” you say almost breathlessly. His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t dare interrupt. He’s engaged, and honestly, you don’t think he’s been more eager to listen to anything you’ve said before. “He said…”

“Go on.”

“… ‘You forget who your boyfriend is. You spend more time with Rin than you do with me.’ I— he’s right. I have more fun with you at work than I ever did on dates with him.”

“Why were you with him?” he asks, his face moving closer to your own.

“Because… the guy I like… liked… doesn’t feel the same way.”

“You don’t like him anymore?” he wonders, looking between your eyes and your lips. You shake your head gently, and you see a small slither of saliva slip down his throat. “Why not?”

“I—” you breathe softly, acutely aware of how close he is to you, now. You aren’t imagining things, are you? Is this really happening? He’s been a mess tonight, you can’t trust him and you certainly can’t trust your own judgement. He’s just teasing you.

He’s just teasing you.

“Why are you asking me this, Rin?” you whisper.

“I think you know why.”

“Tell me, please.”

He grunts, there’s a little force behind his hand as he cups the side of your face. You yelp as he closes the distance between you both, slotting his lips against your own as he pours his feelings into your first kiss. You don’t even register as he moves you so that your back is flat against hollow wood, almost towering above you as he cages you below.

You lose yourself to the dizzying feeling of finally experiencing his lips on yours for the very first time. Something you’ve wanted, maybe, since the moment you set eyes on him.

But you never thought it would happen. Not ever, and definitely not like this. He pulls away for a moment, admiring how drunk you look from one little kiss before he realises he can’t bear to part from you. You mewl into another intoxicating kiss and he moans into your mouth.

“I’ve been crazy about you for ages,” he mumbles. You bite your lip as his begin to travel along your cheek and kiss across your jawline. And you moan, unashamedly as he decorates your neck in sloppy open mouthed kisses and sucks his signature into delicate skin. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry I made you cry. I shouldn’t have ignored you…” he murmurs against your pulse point.

“I-It’s okay,” you whimper. “I get it, now!”

“That prick didn’t deserve you. You’re too good for him, knew that the minute he came by the store.” he tells you. He grabs your face roughly and kisses you messily. He stops, and it’s abrupt, as he looks into your eyes yet again. “Couldn’t fucking stand it whenever he came in. And whenever you talked about him. Were you trying to make me jealous?”

You nod, giggling before he kisses you again. “I guess— it worked?”

“Yeah, princess. It worked.” he grins before kissing you again, lips reattaching to your neck as he mindlessly ruts his hips against your clothed core. “Didn’t wanna risk letting you make a big deal about my birthday ‘cause I knew I’d fall too hard for you, fuck, you don’t know what you do to me.”

“W-Wait…” you stutter through a moan. “Were you lying about… the only thing you want for your birthday?”

He smirks, looking around before he looks back at you. His smile is devilish, you cock your head as you look up at him.

“Do you want to find out?”

You look around just as he did, knowing nothing could deter you from this before looking up at him again. And, without hesitating, you nod again. He bares his teeth with a smile, the happiest you’ve ever seen him, before he stands on his knees. You don’t move, watching him in awe as deft fingers curl into the waistline of your joggers, pulling them down along with your racy black panties.

He separates them from the grey material of your sweats, studying them intently. You see thoughts swirling behind his eyes but can’t decipher them. Though your face soon flushes with an unbearable warmth as you witness him studying the gusset of the black lace, his thumb gently prodding the pooling slickness that had gathered there.

“Cute.” he grins.

You squeak and cover your face as his tongue leaves his mouth, slowly licking up the seat of your panties to taste you. He moans, unabashedly as he savours your essence, he hovers over you again and moves your hands away. You’re panting, eyes stuttering as you struggle to decide where you should be looking. He doesn’t let you look anywhere but at him.

“Taste.” he commands, balling up the material before carefully slotting it betwixt your swollen lips. You’re drooling, instantly, not having expected this from him. And already, you’ve decided.

He isn’t a fucking virgin.

“Your slutty little panties taste sweet. I’m sure the real thing is even better.” he muses, sinking his head lower before, pushing up your hoodie and vest to expose your midriff.

He kisses gently down your sternum before slowly, purposefully, oh so delicately kissing your mons. Teal irises stringently stare as he does. Your body is pliant, and you allow him without question to hike your leg over his shoulder. A harsh spit of saliva hits your clit, and you can’t help but moan. Whether it was the feeling, the sound, or watching him do it, you aren’t sure. But he grins, cockily, clearly pleased with himself before he tormentingly strokes the pads of his index and middle finger across your swollen clit.

“Mmpf,” you keen, the black lace still filling your orifice and preventing you from speaking. You’ve never experienced this, before. You’re used to being used as a toy to please men you’re with. Your pleasure always coming second to their own. You can’t remember the last time you’d gotten head. And those guys had experience.

Maybe he is a virgin.

Maybe he thinks he needs to be generous because that’s what he’s been told…

“C’mere,” he mutters before reaching upwards, yanking the saliva drenched panties from between your lips. He moans as you look at him with a heavy-lidded stare and spit slicken lips. Strings of drool trickling from your lips and some still attached to your panties has his cock stirring further. He holds his eyes closed, for a beat longer than necessary, before looking at you again. “I want to hear how good you feel.”

And with that, your eyes are rolling back into your head as he finally latches his lips to your sensitive clit. He suckles and licks across it like he was put on this earth with the sole purpose of making you cum. He worships your throbbing bead like his tongue was designed with your pleasure in mind.

You card your fingers through his dark hair, yanking lightly when he makes you feel just right. He moans, boisterously, humming into your folds as he makes a point of savouring your delicate flesh. And at this point, you don’t know which of you is enjoying this more.

He moves a little, giving himself room to make a show of licking his fingers before slowly sliding them into your tight heat. Your voice echoes as he curls them, his long, dextrous fingers delving to depths you hadn’t realised existed. His arm wraps tightly around your thigh as you struggle to adapt to such blinding pleasure, desperate to wriggle away from him but his hold remains firm.

“Just relax, baby,” he hums before diving into your flesh once more. His tongue darts quickly, keeping pointed as he swipes it across your pulsing bead. You can’t help but squirm, entirely at the mercy of his mouth and fingers and completely unwilling to let you go. “Mmmpf, you’re so sweet, princess. Could do this all day.”

“F—uuuuuck, it’s too much. I c-can’t—”

“Yeah you can, just want you to feel good. So let go.”

You’re breathless as he maintains focus on your folds. You can’t help but whimper and whine as he slurps and suctions around your overstimulated clit, his fingers working in tandem to help aid in achieving your eventual demise.

It’s better than anything you’ve ever felt from a man before. It might even be better than anything you’ve ever done to yourself.

And still, you’re resisting.

Maybe in your weed addled mind you can’t help but swirl in a vortex of paranoia and confusion. It’s odd, the entire night spent with Rin Itoshi has been uncomfortable and strange and you can’t quite believe how things have ended up.

Your so-called best friend has his face buried between your legs, inflicting a heightened pleasure you’ve never felt before after such an intense exchange of words. You’re resisting it, resisting him, because it doesn’t feel real.

Did you get too high?

“Baby,” he muses. “Are you nervous?”

“N-No,” you respond, your entire body jolting and shivering as the freezing air tangles with your risen tension and building arousal. You won’t be able to hang on for much longer, of that, you’re sure. Not with the way his fingers are sunken and toying with your g-spot. Whether you want to or not, you’re soon to unfurl.

“Cum for me, princess, please.” he begs, “I’ve wait so long to be with you, like this. Don’t let me down, now.”

“Oh, f-fuck, Rin.” you gasp, legs spasming as your back arches as you’re forced into an explosive orgasm. Your moaning and whining resounds throughout the skatepark, and any passersby will undoubtedly hear you as you hit your untimely undoing.

He doesn’t let up, though, continuing to pump his fingers and lick your pulsing clit. You’re too delirious to notice the cocky smile on his face as he works you through the best orgasm you’ve ever had in your entire fucking life.

You’re breathless, resting on your elbows as you look down at him. And you all but cry as he uses his thumbs to spread your pussy lips apart, utterly enamoured by the way it pulsates and clenches around nothing after being worked how he knows you’ve always deserved.

“T-That wasn’t— your first time… w-was it?” you ask gingerly, still panting as tears continuously roll down your cheeks.

He lets go, then, crawling up your body to kiss your face and lick up the tears you couldn’t help but shed. He squeezes your cheeks until your lips pucker, sloppily kissing you with an adventurous tongue. It doesn’t last, though, looking over his shoulder and down your body to guide his hand to your feminine warmth once more. You yelp as you feel a light spank, before he rubs you again.

You shake your head, but he nods in response.

“Rin, please…” you breathe.

“Has anyone ever told you how fucking pretty your perfect little pussy is? I think she wants to cum again, you were so noisy the first time, princess. You can handle one more f’me.”

Your eyes cross as his fingers slot inside of your drooling cunt yet again, the heel of his palm massaging your spent clit again as he sets a brutal pace with his fingers.

“So fucking cute, baby. Such a pretty cry-baby f’me, so gorgeous. Does it feel that good?” he asks.

“Y-Yes, God, yes, Rin. S’good!” you tell him.

He kisses you, again, silencing your whining tone and swallowing your precious mewling that he can’t seem to suffocate. Even with his lips on yours, you can’t help but break away. He moans with you, faux sympathy or genuine pleasure, you can’t tell. But the way your precious little voice rushes straight to his cock can’t be denied. It’s taking everything he has to not hump himself against you, knowing he won’t last a single second if he attempts to pleasure himself as well as you.

You’re barely conscious as he continues, your toes curl as you feel him target the spongey spot inside you which lead to your downfall mere moments ago. Your eyes continue to water, tears spilling into your hairline as you can’t seem to process and navigate the absolute bliss he’s forcing upon you. But you accept it, gratefully. The thought of disappointing him on his birthday has left you a pliable little doll for him to do as he pleases.

He’s had you on such a pedestal and you hadn’t even known it. You’ve unintentionally flaunted your relationship in front of him that you didn’t even know he cared about, leaving him in turmoil and dread as he thought about what things he was doing to you when it should have been him instead.

But he wasn’t good enough. He couldn’t win you over because your heart lay elsewhere. Rin Itoshi knew more so than you that a little prick like your ex would never be good enough for you. He couldn’t satisfy, he couldn’t win your heart.

Rin can do both.

Rin has done both.

“How many guys have made you cry from just their fingers?” he asks, whispering in your ear. Subdued whispers of his gravelly tone rush straight to your cunt, an outpour of slick slowly leaking out of your overstimulated slot and coating his greedy fingers. “Messy little pussy, so pretty, princess. If you’re crying from my fingers, imagine how my cock will feel.”

The thought alone has you creaming for him. Even he looks surprised as your body begins to jolt as the pressure begins to abate from what had been your building peak. He watches in awe as you cum gloriously and gift his fingers your sweet, pearlescent sheen. His fingering wanes and slows as you come down, though your body is still wracked with aftershocks.

And he withdraws them, almost bringing them to his own mouth before deciding against it. He spreads your mouth open carefully before massaging your essence onto your own tongue.

“Suck, baby. Good girls clean up their mess,” he nods.

You grab his hand with both of yours to keep it steady, bobbing your head along with length of his digits as you display what you’re capable of with your mouth. You drool copiously, strings dangling from your chin as you keep your eyes firmly fixated on his. The act of demeaning yourself for his enjoyment has your pussy clenching, oozing more slick as you revel in his pleasure.

“You’re such a little slut,” he smiles, and you can’t help but giggle around his fingers.

He offers a slight laugh, though it’s breathy and barely there. You amuse him, but you’ve always amused him. He’s in disbelief that this is happening, just as you are. But being high is giving him a confidence he’d never dream of if he were sober. You can’t quite believe you’re finally doing this with him. But he can’t believe you even contemplated this with him.

He's spent nights alone fantasising about being intimate with you like this. Making you cum from his tongue and helping you ride his cock as you both cum in unison and feel a blinding love and pleasure neither of you have ever felt as you explore each other’s bodies. Nights when that alone would suffice and he’d have to clean up the mess he’d made of himself with an old t-shirt and spare sock.

And that would be followed by mornings you’d greet him with a happy go lucky smile, not a single solitary idea in your head of the depravity he feels when he thinks about you laid bare for him. You’d been utterly clueless about how desperately he longed to feel you wrapped around him, screaming his name while he made you feel what he was certain no other man could.

How could he want to see you for his birthday, spoiling him rotten and behaving like a girlfriend should when you had already dedicated yourself to another man? He couldn’t bear it. He wanted to put his foot down, he was desperate to set a boundary and maybe cut you out of his life for good because his feelings were getting more intense than he thought he could feasibly control.

But, alas, he’s never been able to resist you.

He read your text messages over and over and over again until he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He had to talk to you. He had to hear your voice. If he’d known being aloof with you would have gotten you to this point. Suckling on his fingers like a girl trying to impress and so desperate to please her first ever crush, he would have done it sooner.

He allows you a few more seconds to taste yourself, to suck his digits like a cock you’ve longed to worship since the dawn of time, before he withdraws them. You pout, but watch as he stands on his knees and pulls down his pants enough to free his aching length. His thick member springing from their confines and slapping against his t-shirt, a messy stain soon to be born there and visible for all to see.

He doesn’t care, though.

He moans as the relief from the release surges through him and glances down at you triumphantly. You can’t even look at him, your eyes glued to his thick length as it flexes and dribbles desperately. He’s cut, and he’s beautiful. You wouldn’t hesitate to choke on his length if he forced it down your throat.

“Do you want it?” he asks, grabbing and squeezing at the base before he tugs himself slowly. “Spread your pretty legs open f’me.”

You nod, doing as you’re told as you bare your cunt on full display. He doesn’t enter you, though, sandwiching his cock between your sticky folds.

It’s euphoric, for him, feeling your lewd folds kiss him repeatedly as he rocks his hips slowly. His perfect, pretty tip nudging against your swollen pearl again and again. He knows it’s enough to get him off, so he makes sure to go slow. Though, your hopeless expression and pathetic mewling could mutually be the end of him.

“P-Put it in.” you tell him, only to be met with a string of disappointed tuts.

“Is it my birthday or yours?” he asks rhetorically, “You didn’t even ask nicely. Knew you were a little brat, but thought you’d have some manners when you wanna make my birthday so special.”

“Fuck, Rinnie, ‘m sorry,” you apologise, biting your lips as he looks down at you with a bemused glare. “J-Just, unf. You’re so big. W-Wanna feel you inside. Just wanna make you feel good.” you tell him, a feeble attempt of explaining yourself. Your wanton desire is too much to handle, you think you might pass out if you don’t feel him inside of you.

He bends down, kissing your cheek carefully before he guides his cock to your clenching entrance.

You yelp as he dips in the tip before taking it out just as quickly. He repeats it, again and again. And then slides in deeper. He withdraws, and then deeper. He repeats, until he’s deeper. And without warning, he stabs his length into you, entirely, filling your throat and lungs with nothing but him.

He chuckles as you become accommodated to his thickness, lip wobbling as you realise you’ve truly never felt something so overpowering inside of you before. Other lovers, toys, nothing has ever compared to him.

“I love you,” you whimper pathetically before your eyes shoot open in realisation. You screw your eyes shut, hoping he hadn’t heard you. But of course, your voice is crystalline, and he hangs on each and every word you say.

“I just put it in, princess, is it making you a little dumb already? Fuck, you’re so fucking cute.” he kisses you fervently, his readiness to tease you eclipsed by the feeling, the realisation, that you’re wrapped around him just as he’d dreamed about. “You’re so tight, fuck, feels like you’re gonna break me.”

“Fuck, Rin…”

“I love you,” he blushes, pushing your legs into a mating press as he begins to fuck down and hard into you. You’re can barely form a coherent word, let alone a thought. But, you don’t care. You’re happy to turn your brain off after hearing that. He loves you, he really loves you.

Your tongues tangle as he pounds into you, so rough and deep you fear you might suffocate. But you’re brought to life, revitalised again and again and again as he whispers pathetically against your lips.

“I love you, l love you, IloveyouIloveyou—” every fibre of his being wills him to stop, telling him that he’s embarrassing himself. But how can that be true when each utterance of his adoration has your pliant body and addled mind squeezing his cock for all it’s worth?

Your cute little cunt so enamoured by three simple words that she’s trying to milk his cock of everything. It’s yours, it’s what you deserve, it’s what you’ve earnt for unknowingly being his girl for so many months. Each battering of his cock in your unprotected cunt leaves a bruising ache on the back of your weary legs.

He hopes he isn’t hurting you, you’re barely cognizant enough to verbalise a single syllable. And yet, somehow, you repeat his words back to him like a doting, braindead toy.

“L-Love, I love— you— Rinnie!” you manage. It’s all he needs. It’s all either of you need as his cockhead continues to knock against your g-spot and your tightness swallows him and cuddles him like he never knew he needed.

But he did know.

He’s known for so long that being in your embrace and fucking every thought out of your pretty little head would make him feel like a man reborn. Because, at the end of the day, he’s got you. He’ll always have you to find comfort in. Whether it be the warmth of your gentle hold while his head rests in your chest, ear angled to hear how your heart beats for him. Or like this. Using your perfect little walls to make you keen for him, his pretty little plaything he can empty himself inside of until you’re both spouting nothing but sweet nothings to each other.

It's for your benefit, as well as his.

You need the release just as he does.

You’ve been pent up for so long and hadn’t even realised it. But you will, now. You now know how it feels to have your body fucked into bliss and incoherent, you know how it feels to make love rather than be a flesh toy for whatever man you choose to fill the emptiness inside of you.

No more.

That will no longer suffice.

Nothing will compare to how it feels to be with Rin Itoshi. You know it as well as he does. His forehead rests against your own as he chases his release, his heart racing as even in his intoxicated mind, he’s acutely aware of what is about to happen.

Of what you are going to let him do.

He’s going to cum inside his best friend.

“C-Can I? Please, baby, let me fill you up.” he begs.

“No… not yet. Feels so good, Rin, I don’t want it to stop.” you explain. And it’s a little selfish, you can’t deny that. You’re angling for your third orgasm of this tryst. You can’t help but think of daybreak approaching and how you both might come to your senses as you’re bathed in the glow of daylight.

You’ve said I love you to each other but what does that really mean? It means you’re turned on and despite it being true, things are different when you’re sober and you sleep on mistakes you may or may not have made. A post coital world may be one in which you can’t make eye contact anymore because… how can best friends do that?

How can you explore each other so intimately and still maintain a friendship that isn’t uncomfortable, each silence that passes by may rot your consciousness of how his nose crinkles when he moans or how you sucked on his fingers like a bonafide whore just because you were lost in the moment? Things can’t be normal after that. You hold back tears as you think solemnly that this might be the last nice memory you have of each other.

And you wrap your arms around his neck, determined not to let him go and keep this nice moment as a memory you can cherish forever. One where he made you feel pleasure you didn’t know a best friend could, you didn’t know anyone could. He’s been waiting to do this with you, and you were blind to it.

You can’t help but wish things weren’t so complicated, but he can’t hold on for much longer. Even slowing his thrusts, even stopping completely, he knows he can’t hold off for much longer.

“Please, princess, I’m aching here…” he mumbles, his lips slotting against yours so perfectly, so deliciously, you can deny him no more. You nod, slowly, tears spilling over as you approach the beginning of the end. A coil tightening in your stomach as he really lets go. He uses his build to his advantage as he strives to help you attain a vision of heaven for the third and final time, his own paradisical freefall waiting in the wings.

“Mmmmmpf… fuu-uuu-uuuck, Rin! R-Rin!”

“Just like that baby, just like that. Hah~ fuck, such a good girl. So fucking pretty. You cum like an angel, fuck. Can I cum inside? Baby, please, I can’t pull out. You’re too fucking tight. Need to do it here. N-Need to give you it like this—”

He cuts himself off, unable to wait for permission as the dam blocking him bursts. He cums messily, loudly, as he spurts a thick, backed up load into you. Even with your hips angled, there’s too much to keep contained. Excess sperm leaks out of your spent hole as it twitches and oozes, and he continues to thrust into you. Even with his cock softening, he can’t seem to help himself. He keeps going, hissing and whining from a depraved, masochistic pleasure.

Even in darkness, you see how red his face has become. You put it down to overexertion, and it’s partly true. But as he unsheathes his cock, he can’t help but feel a concoction of pride and unadulterated joy as he sees your combined coupling completely soak his length.

He pants as he rolls off you, moving his head to the side as he cups your face again to make out with you. And you reciprocate, half-heartedly, as you feel the end is nigh. He quickly tucks himself into his sweats, while you dress yourself in your panties and sweats.

You feel dirty.

Lewd fluids trickle out of you and ruin your clothes, and you can’t help but feel how you always do after a hook up.

Used.

Only this time, it’s worse. You got carried away, and you’re about to lose your best friend because of it. Any thought of salvaging things dies a swift death in your mind as you think about things logically. Things can’t go back to the way they are, now. Not with burden adding tension to what was meant to be a stress-free friendship.

And still, you want to try.

You want to try and save what’s left of your friendship.

“… S-So… you definitely weren’t a virgin.” you try to joke lightly, your rigid body easing slightly when you hear him laugh.

“No, sorry. I was fucking with you, it was dumb.” he smirks. “Are you okay? Was it… okay? It sounded like you liked it.”

“Yeah… yeah. It was really… f-fun.” your lip wobbles before you start to cry, prompting him to sit up abruptly with a look of unbridled concern as he watches you sob.

“Shit, was it bad? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got carried away, I guess? Please don’t cry.”

“N-No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you sob. “It’s just— w-well— what am I meant to do now?! T-Taking your virginity was meant to be your birthday gift and you lied!” you force yourself to laugh through your tears, hoping your excuse will be enough to hide your true feelings for now.

“Oh,” he exhales a sigh of relief, scratching the back of his neck. “You scared me.” he almost scowls, but a soft smile still plays on his features.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine, there’s something else I want if you’re so worried about a gift for me.” he looks at you calmly as your entire face relaxes. You cock your head, curious about what he’s got in mind. He scoffs, lightly, almost in disbelief that you can’t figure it out. “I want my… best friend… to be my girlfriend.”

“… what?!” you practically scream, tears flowing harder as you wonder if you heard him right. He laughs, again, pulling you into his arms and holding you close as you continue to cry.

“Maybe you are dumber than I gave you credit for. I’ve been crazy about you for months, we just had sex and I told you I love you. You’re really surprised that I want to do that again and make you mine, officially?”

You dab at your tears with the sleeves of his hoodie, starting to laugh a little as he smiles at you. You sigh, exasperated. Your whole body is spent and you’re emotionally drained.

“I thought you were gonna think this was a mistake, G-God, I wasn’t expecting this at all.” you explain.

“Clearly,” he grins. “Well? Are you gonna be my girlfriend?”

“Oh! Y-Yeah! Of course!” you smile. His arms wrap around you, and you’ve never felt safer. You burst into a fit of laughter as he repeatedly kisses your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, everywhere.

You lie comfortably in his arms as the two of you look up at the sky together, for the final time that night. If it weren't for the cold, you’re sure you could fall asleep like this. And it’s at that moment, you realise, just how much time has passed. The obsidian sky is no longer suffocating you, the secrets and desires you’ve held only brave enough to be exposed whilst shrouded by the shadows along with your shame for daring to hold them.

The earliest inklings of the true morning sky are breaking through the darkness. The world is about to resume as it does each day, people waking up and going about their lives. You need to sleep, but not now, not like this. You’ll go home, with Rin, as you have so many times before.

And through confessions you believed shouldn’t dared be uttered, things have changed. Things have changed in a way you hadn’t expected.

You lie comfortably in Rin’s arms, your head on his chest as he breathes gently and peacefully. His eyes closed as he savours in the euphoria he feels for all that has transpired.

Things have changed, and everything is better now.

—

632 notes · View notes

prael · 4 months ago

Text

Oranges And Flowers

Kinktember Day 18: Romance

IU (Lee Jieun) x male reader smut

words: 10,517 Kinktember Masterlist

"Can I be honest with you all?" A question for a question, and they all turn their heads, and finally you offer them a real answer. "I didn't really know what I was getting myself into—when I applied to stay here, that is—I just needed a place to stay for the week."

The evening air is humid and still, the sky a flat obsidian black with shining constellations, and underneath it, surrounding a fire, is a circle of maybe the most mismatched group of people ever assembled. There are the stars of course, Hyori and Sangsoon, owners of the house and the famous couple hosting you all—then, Lee Jieun; you know the one, probably the single most famous person in the country, just casually sitting there in her summer dress as if she was nothing special at all. And then there's the guests, an assortment of people you still don't really know. The old couple, the young couple, and the sisters.

And, finally: you.

"So you applied to the TV show, just for somewhere to stay?" Hyori's laughter carries and is as contagious as it is clear and pleasant.

"Honestly," you look around the circle. "I didn't read a lot of the info, and even now I'm not too sure what's actually going on in the show."

This earns a laugh from the group, they're all looking at you, and not in that 'you-fucking-moron' sort of way, no, their faces are full of smiles. Though, one stands out above the rest.

"And you?" Hyori turns her attention to the next person in the circle, one of the sisters who is sitting on your left. All the stares move along with the questions, switching focus to the girl—all except one. Jieun sits directly across from you and her gaze rests stoically upon your face, an unreadable smile painting her delicate lips a plush and radiant pink. Between you, the fire burns. It sends spiralling embers shooting into the night and, behind it, the orange light dances over her skin. It would be so easy to get the wrong idea here. This place is just so beautiful, everything is picture-perfect, and all these postcard-worthy scenes feel even better when Lee Jieun is a part of the composition.

Laughter breaks out in the group again for some joke you never paid attention to. It steals the attention of you both, however, turning to the girl and joining in the laughter with a meek half-hearted chuckle, looking around at them all awkwardly before returning your eyes to Lee Jieun. She returns the look and lifts her drink, taking a long sip through a straw.

You weren't too sure about all this the first day you arrived. On paper it seems like such an obvious idea, you didn't have to pay a penny and the producers even picked you up from the airport, all in exchange for being a bit-part background character that no one who watches will ever really remember or care about. In reality, it has changed the whole holiday. The requirements for guests were rather simple. You just need to be around for a few set activities by the producer, all worked around your schedule, and then you're free to enjoy your time however you like.

That first morning, you were greeted at the house by Hyori and Sangsoon. Introductions were made and then a short tour began, all under the camera's watchful eye.

It was okay, you could handle it, right up until you were taken into the kitchen and standing there was Lee fucking Jieun. Apparently, you skipped over the part that said IU was going to be here. It was like staring into the sun. Of course, Hyori was quick to joke as you stood there stunned and silent with an open mouth that could catch a mosquito or two.

"Why am I being outshone in my own house? Jieun, you need to leave." Hyori playfully poked her friend in the arm, and Jieun just giggled along. And like the world's biggest idiot, you couldn't even muster a simple 'Hello'. Great first impression there.

From then on you were shown where you would sleep and you bumped into some of the other guests. They seemed normal enough. One was nice, one seemed grumpy, and the others—well, you really didn't know yet. When you settled into your room, you yearned to just do something normal, to not get overwhelmed. Making some tea seemed like the perfect grounding activity.

When you got there, the kitchen was empty. The teapot was already out, but everything else was decidedly harder to find. Then came that soft and gentle voice from behind you. "You won't find anything to steal in there; it's all baking supplies." It made you jump, and you snapped around to see Jieun leaning against a fridge door, smiling over a glass of something clear and carbonated.

You pointed at your chest like an idiot. "I'm... not looking to steal."

"Too bad." She took a long and dramatic sip. "It would have made for good television. Plus, you look like a kleptomaniac to me. Brooding and mysterious, travelling alone, all that sort of thing."

"I'm actually just trying to make some tea."

"Oh perfect, let me. Here," She took the cup from the kitchen counter, placed it in front of you, and then moved beside you to open the correct cupboard to pull out some tea leaves. It was funny the kind of thing that can go into making a good impression and the pressure you put on yourself to do so. How many would kill for this chance, to stand close to Jieun in an otherwise empty room? Yet, your mind was swimming, you were trying desperately to not think about the very famous, attractive, woman who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with you—trying desperately and failing horribly as the thoughts of something funny to say slipped out of reach entirely.

She leant in towards you—well, towards your cup—and you jumped back, trying to play it off as a simple 'making way' manoeuvre, but her little side-eye glance and smile told you how stupid you looked.

"This is one of the few things I know what to do. Tea. I can make tea," she was saying as she filled up the teapot. "They asked me to try and bake some bread this morning, but..."

"Where is it now?"

"It's in here," she pointed at the rubbish bin with a free hand.

"I think it bakes better in the oven. Can't tell you much more than that though." Boy did this woman laugh. Like, a lot. As if it was the funniest thing she had heard all week. Her shoulders shook and her whole body swayed, and when the teapot whistled it made her jump, which sent her spiralling back into another fit.

And suddenly, she looked so... normal.

You know it's unfair to say celebrities are anything other than just normal people, because of course they are normal people, it's not like fame and money change them on a fundamental level. That being said, they can't help but not be normal in the eyes of many. Celebrities are celebrities, like how someone with blue hair is always blue-haired. But, at the end of the day, Jieun, whether she is IU the singer and TV star or Jieun the disaster of a breadmaker, is just a regular, normal, though very gorgeous, woman.

And she looks that way now, too, across the campfire. Sure, the cameras are rolling and she puts a little extra emphasis and playfulness on her expressions and movements—who wouldn't for the sake of good television—but in this moment, right here, right now, she's a completely normal and likeable human being, one you think you might enjoy being around. Hyori continues to lead the discussion around the fire pit, asking a few probing questions about the guest's hobbies and home lives, then posing riddles to the group and comparing their answers with her husband Sangsoon's.

For you, her questions are answered quickly, giving them a quick thought and little else before letting them fall from your lips.

When Hyori moves her focus along, she doesn't fail to pick up on the way you and Jieun spend the remaining half hour or so, looking at each other, smiling every so often, then quickly pulling your gaze away as if caught red-handed doing something sinful.

~~~

"We're going to pick oranges this morning." Hyori is explaining over breakfast. "I know, it's not the most exciting but it's the Jeju staple activity, so we have to do it. All guests are welcome to join us."

The young couple sat to your right immediately volunteered their services, followed soon after by the older man and his wife. Once their attendance was secure, the rest seemed significantly less interested and all excused themselves for other tasks. As the only person yet to respond, Jieun turned the spotlight on you, "How about you? Are you going to join us?"

You shrugged. "Uh, I was going to meet a friend, actually."

Hyori is quick to follow up, "You could see them in the afternoon right? Come with us, it will be fun." There are a few puzzled looks around the table. See, Hyori didn't push anyone else to go, no, only you. "Your friend won't mind right?"

In all honesty, your friend might very well be livid, though he might very well lighten up if you told him who you were spending your morning with instead. You run a hand through your hair and admit defeat, looking towards her. "Okay, I'll come along."

An answer that produces an immediate, but brief shared glance between Hyori and Jieun.

~~~

The journey there was lacklustre, a short ride, with the other guest, separated from the stars who rode ahead. The staff member with you gave you a basic run down, they are only planning to use the guests in some overhead shots and some background shots, everything else would be focused on the three of them.

But, after climbing the stone steps and passing through the orchard gate, Hyori takes charge of the situation. "We'll split up into pairs. Our two older lovebirds can go together, and our younger couple too. Sangsoon is with me and..." She stops. Hyori gives you a devious grin, one that speaks louder than words. "That leaves you two." She gives a final affirming nod before striding over to join Sangsoon.

And just like that, you find yourself walking through the grove alongside a girl you've only ever seen on TV before. This morning she wore a cute ensemble that accentuated her long legs. Another flowing sundress with a belt tied tight at the waist to show off that lithe, feminine shape. It's a silent first few steps, walking off down between two rows of trees, both waiting for the other to initiate the conversation.

Jieun speaks first, breaking through the tension. "So, you said you know someone on the island?"

"Uh," you brush a loose strand of hair from your eye. "A couple of them actually, old friends. One lives in Jeju and another's been here for work and he said I should visit when I'm in the area."

"What are they like?" Jieun stops, so do you, and then she steps across you, before crouching down to take an orange from the low-hanging fruit. "The friends."

"Uhm..." What are they like? Good friends, obviously, otherwise you wouldn't be making this trip. Where's the drama, where are the fun anecdotes, or the moments of soul searching. Nothing comes to mind. "They're fine?"

It earns a chuckle from Jieun. "Fine?" She stands facing you, dropping the fruit into the basket you're carrying. "Is that all?" She flashes you the sweetest smile, an endearing smile, one that begs you to open up a little more.

"I met them recently, actually, it's been mostly online, to tell the truth." Jieun ducks down to get the next fruit, you bend down too and pluck at another on the opposite side, rotating to turn to her and handing her the basket, standing back up and following beside her once more. "They're funny, one of them is a big foodie. Always posts pictures of stuff like the best bibimbap in Busan or whatever. Has a whole food blog that's fairly popular."

Jieun nods, pondering and popping a new piece of fruit into the basket. "Do you like food?"

"Can't live without it," you joke.

Jieun chuckles, and you laugh with her. It is hard not to, her laughter is so cute. "So can you cook?" she follows.

"Instant noodles is about all I know."

"Somehow I even manage to ruin those," she admits with a fake frown and a laugh. "I think that's part of the reason I'm on this show."

"What's that?" you ask as Jieun reaches for another ripe fruit, she pulls it from the branch and then somehow manages to drop it on the floor, a gesture you couldn't help but find positively adorable. She runs a few steps after it as it begins to roll on the hard dirt ground, and bends over to scoop it up, presenting it to you victoriously with her smile.

"What's what?"

"You said it's why you're on the show."

"Oh, because I'm kind of, useless? Clumsy, not very domesticated, really."

"Those things don't make you useless, you're anything but useless." Is that flirting? A line you spout before the weight of the words and the loaded tone settle in your own mind. Jieun turns to you, eyes sparkling, cheeks rising as she smiles wider than you had seen before.

"And why is that?" There's no escaping her questioning, and maybe she enjoys it a little.

"Well." A fruit, any fruit, grab another fruit. Look away and look at the tree. Breathe. Turn to her again. You can do it. "You just put all your talents into singing and performing and acting and whatever else you do right? You put all your skill points into one tree so to speak, instead of scattering them to fill multiple."

She stops. Frowns. "What?" Her face twists in a confused mess. "Skill points?"

"Oh. It's like, in games, when you earn skill points to improve something and choose what you want to..." You realise how utterly ridiculous you sound. "Never mind."

Her face is one of wonder, there's this mixture of confusion, curiosity, and her clearly fighting back laughter. "No," she laughs. "Continue, please, you were doing a whole thing there."

"I embarrassed myself enough for one day. Thank you."

"Are you a bit of a nerd?" She asks with this teasing smirk before spinning away, her floral dress flowing in the wind, and walking further ahead.

"Hey! No! Not a nerd!" you call after her, following in her wake.

"Look like a nerd to me" She twirls around just before the turn in the row, leaning on the trunk of one of the few taller trees, smirking and playfully twirling a few strands of her dark hair around her delicate fingers.

From then on, the conversation flows far easier and quicker than it probably should. A playful back and forth as she questions your hobbies and quirks, you fire back asking for her own. Things range from the kinds of books she likes to her telling you how she always sings into her toothbrush every morning when she is brushing her teeth. You promised not to tell a soul, as her secret was safely in your hands. She has a quick wit and a slightly goofy sense of humour, the kind of things a magazine spread or a soju advertisement could never communicate or capture.

Despite her charm and charisma though, the thing that shines through the most is the way she listens to you. With genuine care and fascination, and not just for the cameras, no, it felt genuine. Honest. True.

"No. You can not be serious!"

"One hundred percent true." You pull out your phone and show her the photos on the screen. A blurry mess at first before you flip to another.

"That's you? And that's... is that..." She doesn't need to finish, she takes hold of the phone and holds it directly up against her face. "Why did you think that was a good idea?"

"I never thought it was a good idea, I lost a bet, and we had been drinking. Bad decisions were inevitable."

"This might well be the single worst tattoo I have ever seen." She doesn't stop squinting at the photo. "Why is it upside down?"

"I don't think the orientation would make it any better."

"Wait," Jieun says, looking away from your phone and into your eyes. "You have to show me it, I want to see it with my own eyes."

"Absolutely not."

Jieun slaps at your arm, pretending to be upset. "Come on!"

"Jieun, even if I wanted to show you my ass, there would be no point, I had it lasered off like 2 months later."

Jieun's laughter could ring for a day. It's infectious, it's a laughter that communicates how light, happy and free-spirited she feels—and it makes you feel exactly the same. You talk a bit about travelling, too. Places you've been, places you would still like to go. For Jieun, it became a bit of a flex. A concert here and a concert there, movie filming there and a photoshoot here.

"You've seen the world, and met everyone, but here you are picking oranges with me."

"Here I am." Jieun stepped aside as you passed, looking around at the beautiful weather and the swaying tree branches. "I like this more, I think." She stops. You turn, seeing her suddenly shift a bit shy. "It's nice, this..."

"Oranges are nice and all..."

Jieun giggles. "No, silly," Jieun purses her lips. "This. Me and—"

"Hey, you two! Having a nice time!?" Sangsoon calls out to the pair of you from a few rows down. In unison, the two of you turn to him, to his big, smiling face, and then watch as Hyori hits him on the shoulder and admonishes him for interrupting. For a second it looks as though Jieun is blushing as she looks away from his gaze and towards the ground, scratching her brow, hand almost acting as a shield.

"We should get back."

"Yeah, I'm all orange'd out," you say, holding up the full basket.

~~~

You had spent the afternoon away from the house, which was probably for the best, spending some time in reality instead of this strange new world where you're suddenly hanging out with IU. The friend, your old university colleague and Jeju local was eager to catch up. Despite a minor disagreement—or two, or ten—he took it in good sport. Before nightfall though, you had returned and had just taken a shower.

There's a knock at the door, so you quickly pull on a shirt and open it to find Hyori on the other side. "Hey stranger," she follows your gesture and walks into the room before perching on your bed. "How was your time today?"

You close the door behind you. "Fun. I spent some time catching up with some friends."

"And making a new friend?"

A small nod. "I enjoyed myself today, it was all quite... different than what I had been doing. It was..." You weren't really sure how to follow up.

"I get it." Hyori leaned back on her hands. "But Jieun really seemed to have a lot of fun today."

You're stuck in this awkward silence, not wanting to say anything stupid but also refusing the play it down.

Hyori takes mercy on you. "Anyway," she pushes herself to her feet. "We're eating outside again, barbecue, come join us."

A smile appears, an acceptance of the invitation. She watches it come out and nods at it, as if pleased with your decision. And with a brief smile, she leaves the room and you're left alone. You leave the room.

You arrive on the back porch and watch the scene from a distance. Jieun sits by the fire in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, looking so naturally good it could take the breath of anyone who stared long enough. Her legs look spectacular in shorts, her chest looks perfect through a white t-shirt, and she looks breathtaking right now—in this light and under these circumstances. The fire-pit burns again and as it does, Hyori and Sangsoon stand near the grill, their backs turned and talking among themselves. By Jieun's feet rests one of Hyori's dogs, sound asleep.

As soon as your foot hits the grass to start walking over, Jieun turns to see you approaching and a radiant smile cuts right through your defences, punching into your heart and embedding a spear made entirely out of a whole array of butterflies. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't join us," she teased with a flick of her hand.

"Good to know I'm missed when not around."

Jieun is about to say something but appears to bite her tongue and look back at the fire. There's a space next to her on the little log chair she sits on, though you think it too presumptuous to sit right by her so soon, and take the little wooden armchair opposite instead, crossing your legs and stretching, pulling your phone from your pocket, to check for notifications. None. You stare at it anyway.

There's a solemn silence for a while, the cooking of meat and the playful bickering of the couple by the grill and the occasional chatter amongst the other guests. This leaves you and Jieun, slowly drinking from your glasses, separated by the fire.

After some time, the food begins to come in batches, and you eat with everyone else. The group shares the tale of their expedition to the oranges this morning, like how Hyori claims she found the largest orange of the day only for the young couple to later find and present a larger specimen. Some of the others share how they went into town and saw some old houses, or an old shrine, visited the beach and splashed around in the water and a few others sit and listen quietly, nursing their drinks.

Eventually, you begin to grow drowsy and stifled by the warm heat of the fire, a blanket that draws everyone closer, too close.

You stand, pat yourself off and let your gaze rest on the fire, then speak to no one in particular. "I'm going for a walk, thank you for the food," you say as you bow your head to your hosts.

"So late at night?" Jieun asks from her perch.

"Got a bit too warm is all, fresh air would be nice."

Jieun glanced down at the fire and her eyes shot up at you. "Let me join you, keep you company."

Hyori and Sangsoon share an understanding glance, before Hyori says, "Be careful you two."

Jieun stands up. "Soonshim can come with us, can't you Soonshim? You'll keep us safe." She bends down to stroke her behind the ears, and she lazily raises her head and grumbles in that cute way that animals do. She happily climbs to his feet and yawns.

Off you went, walking the stone path. Up a gentle incline before cutting left towards a quiet path cutting through some trees. For a while, the night is filled with the sound of rustling trees and the snapping of fallen sticks underfoot. That's all until Soonshim leads your party off onto an even more remote dirt track.

"Now where are you going?" Jieun coos playfully, not expecting much of a response.

"She probably knows this area better than we do," you suggest with a smile and Jieun returns it. You seem to bring a lot of smiles out in each other. Soonshim appears to have a destination in mind, the dog bounds along the track and you follow, the path becomes more and more unstable, and the darkness of the evening isn't doing either of you any favours.

Jieun steps up onto a stone in the path and she slips, wobbling from the momentum of the step with a small yelp and you catch her immediately in your arms.

"Careful," you chuckle nervously. She doesn't move, but relaxes into your chest, closing her eyes. You have her. You keep her steady, her breathing is fast and short. It slows and slows, her fingers lightly clasping at your arms. She relaxes and her voice comes at near a whisper.

"Thank you."

And then, slowly, she lifts herself away without looking you in the eye and lets out a small cough. She starts to walk again, this time holding onto your hand—for safety. You smile at the touch and gently squeeze back, taking care as you descend and traverse the difficult ground. Soonshim still leads onward, barking and jumping in her bounding little way and occasionally waiting for the slow, careless, humans to catch up as she heads uphill.

Before long you come to a clearing at the top which blesses you with a view of the rolling countryside, bathed in moonlight, and a peaceful soundscape, far removed from anything but the sounds of nature. Back down the hill, over the trees, you can see the roof of the house, and the glowing of the fire out front.

Soonshim finds a nice place for a rest, and the Jieun leans her head into your shoulder and says quietly, "Tell me something that no one knows."

Soonshim rests. Jieun looks expectant, and suddenly, you're struggling. There must be something interesting. No. Something cute or funny? No, nothing seems quite right. And yet her eyes are searching for answers. The seconds pass and you rack your brain trying to remember, going into the darkest of dungeons in your memories, hoping something would come.

"Something that no one knows," you mutter to yourself. Jieun leans closer. Something that no one knows. Soonshim yawns, laying her chin on her paws as her tail softly hits the grass beside her. "I had this girlfriend, a few years ago. She was kind and sweet and loving."

"What's not to love about that?"

"Ah well." You snickered, a chuckle under your breath. "When she's doing the same thing with another guy it kind of takes the shine off a little."

"Ah... I'm sorry," Jieun reaches out, resting a consoling hand on your forearm. Her grasp is delicate. "It must have been tough. How did you find out?"

"They were bad at hiding it. When I did confront her, she didn't deny it."

Jieun lets out a small breath, something between a gasp of surprise and a grunt of disbelief. "Wow. So did it end, like, there and then?"

"Yep. Walked out and have been free ever since. Never looked back." You smile, looking out across the plains below.

"Do you prefer to be free? Not tied down and always going after adventure?"

"If I wasn't free, I wouldn't be here. If I was tied down I would never make this trip."

"Doesn't answer my question," Jieun jokes then pokes you in the ribs.

"No. Not really." A period of silence follows as you take in the fresh air and the scenery before you. The sound of crickets rings out and the breeze swirls its way through the brush. Jieun seems to ponder on what you had just told her. Maybe it doesn't make much sense, or maybe you just came off a little weird. You can't be sure what she is thinking.

But speaking so plainly is a freeing feeling, and telling her feels right. As though the idea that she may judge you is, not unthinkable, but far more remote of a possibility.

"I broke up with someone too. Not long ago,. It wasn't anything as tragic as yours, but, we just didn't have the time to be together." She brushed at a stray hair, caught by the wind.

"I'm sorry." You turn to face her and she meets your eyes for only a moment before she turns to Soonshim who lifts her head and tilts it with the look that only a dog's can express. "She's beautiful," Jieun mutters softly, nodding her head to the sleeping canine, which wagged its tail at the acknowledgement.

"Yeah. She is beautiful." You say, not taking your eyes off of Jieun.

She draws back her gaze, and looks up, with a little confusion, eyes glimmering like gemstones, searching your own as she draws nearer and nearer to you. "Are you talking about Soonshim, or—"

"You."

Lee Jieun steps into the kiss, onto her tiptoes and lifts herself as high as she can to press her soft lips on yours. Your heart seemed to miss a beat, or five, as you leant into it, capturing her lips with your own. You pull your arms around her, in a tight embrace and her heartbeat thunders against you.

And when Jieun pulls her lips away from yours, you lean in again, capturing her lips once more. You cradle the back of her head and guide the kiss, ever so slightly. Just to be closer to her, only a little closer. But enough. When the kiss ends this time, you sigh.

"We shouldn't," Jieun's whisper sounds so vulnerable, her mouth, too lonely for the words. "We should—" kiss again? "go back."

"I'm sorry, I—" Jieun cuts you off with a small kiss, a peck.

"Don't be." She keeps hold of your hand, leading you towards the path and pulling you gently downhill. "We should just get back."

~~~

It's on the porch of the house, where you stood just a couple of hours ago, staring at her, that she says, "Good night." And there's this look in her eye that screams the words 'I want to kiss you again'. Though you both know that this isn't the time or the place.

"Good night," you give her a smile. "Sleep well."

"You too." And then she's gone, Jieun and Soonshim slip in through the back door and you head to the front to get into your room. The emptiness of the room is a strange departure from the warmth of company you've felt all evening. And as you drop onto the bed, sleep does not come quick—it refuses.

Instead, as you toss and turn in the cool, crisp linen, you imagine Jieun's lips meeting your own again, and again. Soft and pliable, sweet and willing, as inviting as can be. Then you argue with yourself that it was an accident, just a product of the moment rather than anything deeper, but... not really. Not when it happens like this, not with her so eager, as eager as you were, in equal measure. And that has a price. The whole night, turning endlessly.

You wonder if she struggles just the same.

The morning rolls around and so does the bad news. There's someone completely unrecognisable helping prepare breakfast, a change that goes unaddressed by your hosts for what seems like the longest time. It's only when they join you at the table that they make the announcement, "Jieun has a concert, back in Seoul, she'll be returning tomorrow evening." Hyori pulls a chair and sits down at the table, pulling a full plate closer to her.

Sangsoon helps himself and settles next to Hyori, asking casually, "Did you and Jieun go for a walk yesterday?"

You pause, trying not to sound like a blushing teenager. "Uh, yes. Yes we did, it's very pretty out there, with some really nice views. Soonshim led us up a hill."

"Didn't see much of you afterwards," Hyori teases, "did we?"

"I was tired after we got back so I just crashed. Tough work walking those hills."

The two hosts glance at each other and chuckle. "Well, Soonshim will be happy, she loves walks. Thanks for looking after her."

You give a small, simple nod. "Of course."

For the next ten minutes, you pick at some of your food but feel so restless the entire time. By the time you stand up from the table, Sangsoon looks a bit surprised. "Somewhere to be?"

"Just want to use the bathroom," you say, with a hasty smile.

There, you stare in the mirror. And it hits you. Hard, right in the stomach, like a heavyweight boxer throwing a right hook, or a hammer kick from a martial artist. A surge of feeling that cuts through you and shatters any façade of composure. Of control. You're flustered. Nervous, even. Like an anxious teen in a school hall during prom.

It's an alien, almost nauseating, feeling, something like vertigo.

~~~

"Can I get you anything else?"

"No, that's everything." Jieun answers, before pulling closed the divider of her first-class pod, shielding herself from the prying eyes of those seated nearby. She places her headphones on and peels into her orange, holding a large section up to the light, before gently placing it in her mouth.

The flight is short to Seoul, but it's a lonely one—without him. She can still feel him though, the kiss that happened at the hilltop. And all the dread that comes with it. Jieun knows full well just how wrong it was, and yet she also knows just how right it felt. Normally, by now, all of her thoughts are on the performance ahead. All her little anxieties arise from the finer details and how she strives to perfect them. Now, though, is the exception.

The ride from the airport to Yonsei is a little different. Though she had to put on her best actress face in the airport, for all the fans and the cameras, but here, alone and safe, she's given the time and the space she needs, but it doesn't bring the relief she expected. Now her thoughts are just swirling, again. Swirling and storming and churning.

Her manager is talking, about this and that, all probably important—but she'll never know.

'It's just going to go down the same road again, another relationship that takes a backseat to my career.'

Jieun groans internally. 'He's such a nice person though.'

"Jieun?"

It catches her off guard. Her heart pounds in her chest, startled, not so much because she was called upon, but the direction it was in. "Huh?"

"So, what do you think?" the manager asks. "Are you even listening? This is what you wanted right?"

Jieun closes her eyes, bringing her index finger up and pinching the bridge of her nose, running her hands down the contours of her face, then forcing a small, tired grin on her lips, she mutters, "Yeah, sorry, I'm listening."

~~~

It's been a strange couple of days. You spent as much of it as you could away from the house. Out in Jeju doing the most random of things to take your mind away from her. Though that's pretty tough when you're walking the street and she's on poster after poster and then you dip into a convenience store only for it to be playing her music.

Coming back for lunch wasn't any better, with Sangsoon and Hyori often teasing or giving the odd hint here and there. You sat down, not able to enjoy the food properly and excused yourself when your appetite gave out on you.

That afternoon, Hyori sat on the porch and invited you to join her—quiet and away from everyone else.

"You must know it's not easy for someone in Jieun's position to do, to go around kissing anyone like that," she starts and she reaches for the drink, pouring it and handing the glass out to you, and you reach for it, staring down at the liquid and watching the ice cubes swim and then sink.

"She told you?"

"In a sense," Hyori laughs softly and pours the other glass, putting the jug aside and taking up her glass. She leans back on one hand against the wooden board and says, "So, what now, what do you intend to do?"

"Uh, about what?"

Hyori offers a smirk and says, "About her."

"I..." What can you really say here, apart from that you just want her, like probably a hundred thousand other men and women have wanted her since they've first laid their eyes on her. Instead, you sip at your glass.

"Nothing wrong with liking her," Hyori says casually, as if the statement itself isn't fraught with consequence.

"Doesn't matter," is what you offer. "I shouldn't, we're from different worlds."

"Mmmm, yes and no," Hyori sips on her drink. "Listen. People like Jieun, like me, the reality we live in isn't the reality we want. Well, it is, but it also isn't. Because we get what we want but never quite get all we want."

You narrow your gaze in confusion. "Sounds like a riddle."

"Think of it like this. When we're on TV or we're on a stage or at a photoshoot or whatever, it's like we're living in the clouds, are you with me?"

"I think so."

"Well being up in the clouds is amazing, you get to do great stuff, fun stuff. But there's always a danger of floating away. So there's the other half of our life, on the ground. It's what keeps us sane. Balanced."

"So you have this double life," you offer as an interpretation.

"It's not that drastic but, yes." Hyori swirls the contents of her glass, taking a quick sip to wet her mouth. "Don't mistake it though, the ground is the more important half, because, in that part, we meet the people who mean the most to us. But, listen to me, when you date someone like Jieun, you're dating that half of her life. The ground. The clouds are for her alone."

"So you have to let her live up in those clouds without you?"

"Did she tell you about her ex?"

"She said they didn't have the time to be together."

Hyori nods. "If she told you that, then you've confirmed it for me. She likes you. But, now you have to think, this past twenty-four hours, there's going to be a lot more of this. Sitting at home while she's performing in front of thousands, living in the clouds. You have to ask yourself, can you handle it? Are you willing to accept it? All the pros and cons."

There's nothing for a few moments, the pair of you sit there silently, before you mutter, "That's kind of hard," and Hyori laughs under her breath as she tilts her head and agrees.

"Yeah. That's why not every relationship survives. Not in this business. But I'm doing you the favour of warning you in advance."

"Thank you."

"Speak of the devil." The sound of a car draws closer until it stops. Some commotion arises and then slowly, she appears. In all her beauty and grace. Hair blowing softly in the breeze, her yellow jumper and skinny jeans hugging her hips perfectly, her beauty as sharp and clear and as immediate as ever. There's no way to take it all in with just one look, especially with the sun low on the horizon behind her. You're mesmerised, to say the least, and even more so as her shy smile reveals itself.

"Evening," Hyori stands, opening her arms for Jieun and wrapping her in a hug, kissing her on the cheek. They exchange some words you can't hear but you watch the movement of the mouths, the way the body moves. Then you turn back to your drink, pretending to watch the dregs swim at the bottom of the glass. You can feel her now, or at least smell the light fragrance, you don't need to turn, as a shadow descends on the side of your head.

"Hi."

"Hey," you say as you draw your eyes slowly up her body. "How was the concert?"

"Good, thank you." Her smile widens.

"You must be tired after all that," you follow, and she nods in agreement and glances to the far end of the veranda.

"And hungry. Will you come inside for dinner with me?" She's smiling now, an infectious, radiant smile, that grows.

"Of course."

You move indoors, you and her at the table. You use the conversation over dinner to ask her about the concert, and her life as a celebrity. From asking her how it feels to be up there singing to hearing stories about some of the craziest fans, the sorts of weird things they do and the lengths they'll go to.

"Some even claim to know me," she laughed, "and try and ask me questions or say certain things and act as though we've known each other for years."

"It sounds surreal," you say and Jieun leans in with a curious look.

"It's been days and you haven't asked about this before now, not at all, so what's got you so interested?" she teases.

"Well, I guess I just wondered what life is like up in the clouds."

Jieun narrows her eyes at you for a moment before chuckling a bit, and leaning in further and muttering, "Hyori. She spoke to you about this didn't she?"

"Just a little, yes. While you were gone."

"I knew it, she likes this little analogy." Jieun folds her arms, rests them on the table and stares right into your eyes, asking "What else did she say...?"

"Not a lot."

"Oh god." Jieun throws herself back against her chair, she brings her hands up to her mouth, with the sleeves of her jumper over her hands and looking like she wants to bury herself into the palms of her hands. "Ugh, that girl. What else did she say?"

"Really, not much else," you answer.

"Right." She sits forward again, not raising her eyes. "Listen, while I was away, I was thinking about what happened."

"And..."

"And," Jieun lets out a huge exhale, the stresses and fears seem to leave along with that breath. "She told you, and you haven't run away. Or at least, not yet. You're still here, we're here. Now. Just sitting, having a chat and eating some noodles."

"The noodles are really nice," you say and Jieun laughs.

"See, you make me laugh, and it makes me all confused, in the best way possible. And I know this isn't the time or place, but—"

"Yes, Jieun."

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I'd really love to see where this takes us," you say as you rise from your seat, rounding the table without breaking eye contact. You gently take her hand.

Jieun looks a bit hesitant, stares at the ground and mutters under her breath, "Where does that road end, you know? Look at everything I'm asking, of you, I don't want you to get hurt because I may not be able to give enough."

"I get it Jieun, the ground and the clouds," you whisper as you guide her up from her seat to stand in front of you. "I'll be on the ground. Sometimes you'll be in the clouds."

Jieun collapses her cheek against your shoulder and releases a deep sigh. "Why are you so nice to me?" Jieun sniffles.

"Because you deserve it Jieun."

Her heart thumped so hard, so rapidly, and tears flooded her eyes, making the world wavy and foggy. She fights the tears. And she finds the warmth of you, she pushes her face hard into your chest, inhaling deeply, and feeling an inexhaustible source of strength flow through her, bolstering her. She presses her body into yours.

She reaches her head up and kisses you deeply. Your hands cup her cheeks and your tongues meet for the first time. She leans in, slipping her hands to your neck, and curling her fingers tightly. Her lips are so warm and soft, her whole body melts, and the two of you press against one another. A fire burns and every nerve thrills in anticipation. Her breathing increases as a raging fire churns within.

When the kiss breaks, you murmur against her lips, "Should we, go somewhere that isn't the kitchen?"

Jieun nods, her hands still firmly clutching the collar of your shirt. "The food can wait."

As the door to your room closes, you begin unbuttoning your shirt, the last of them dropping open as she leaps at you, her lips attacking your neck with soft, wet, urgent kisses as she clutches you like her life depends on it. And you have her back, reaching around and holding her, carrying her, stumbling through the dark and onto the bed. You hit the mattress, and your grip relaxes as she leans back and grabs the hem of her sweatshirt. Jieun lifts it, dragging it up her body until the garment is sent to the floor and there it lay, forgotten.

For a moment she seems hesitant, sitting above you. It's a strange mix of tension and passion, the way her fingers trace lines on your chest, and you sit in awe of this beauty above you. The urge to reach for her, to take her, becomes overwhelming, as your gaze trails up her tight, toned stomach, and lingering over her small chest, clothed in black and wrapped snug. You stare and she shivers at the intensity of that look and bites at the corner of her lip.

"This is okay?" Jieun asks softly.

"I'm here for it if you are," you tell her, reaching and cupping her breast in your hand, as though it belonged there. That sends a new chill through her.

"Okay." Jieun nods her head a little. The word shakes a little with a quiver of breath and she lowers her head to meet her lips on yours, softly brushing at first but gradually more insistent. Her tongue prods and finds yours, and she pushes you down by the shoulders, forcing herself to lie on top of you and hold you there. And the kiss seems endless.

You run a hand up the soft skin of her back, up the divot of her spine until your fingers come to her bra strap, and with a small break in the kiss, you murmur against her lips. "Can I?"

She kisses you while she nods. Your fingers search a little, finding the clasp, you tug, letting the bra slip. And, with one small gentle tug on her shoulders, the strap of the bra slips off and it's only her hand rushing up to cover her modesty that keeps it in place.

You wrap your arm around her and roll her over onto her back, and as she lay against the covers, you're over her, looking down at how she still holds her arm over her tits. "I want you to see all of me," she whispers.

"I want to see all of you."

And with that admission, her arm, drops slowly away, pulling the black bra with it and exposing those two perfect, beautifully formed tits. With the lightest, most delicate touch, you brush your thumb across one and feel it spring a little at your touch. The nipples are erect, Jieun leans and looks to the side as you bend down, taking one nipple into your mouth. You flit your tongue across the little pink pebble of flesh and watch Jieun's face.

The muscles around her eyes tighten, and she lets out the sexiest little whimper. The reaction makes you want her more and you begin swirling and caressing her tit with the soft, flat of your tongue, and sucking her nipple into the warm recesses of your mouth.

She cries out and gasps. "God that feels good..." her hands clawing through your hair and her fingernails scraping through. Her moan spurs you onwards as you plant a trail of kisses, switching between which sensitive nub you suck, tug and tease. "Don't stop," she pleads.

"Not when you taste so good."

"I can't believe we're... that you're here, with me."

Your hand finds hers, lacing the fingers into hers you smile, push her hand into the bedsheets and stare up into her glimmering eyes as you run your tongue once more around her nipple. "You're perfect Jieun, I can't believe I'm so lucky."

Jieun arches her back a little, closing her eyes and exhaling a breath. "Stop it, that's not true," she giggles in between whimpers, "stop it, you know it's not— oh g-god..."

You're moving your kisses up over her collarbone and to her neck, and settling your body down between her legs, resting between her thighs. Jieun clamps her legs tightly around you as you keep sucking and biting at her neck, nibbling ever so lightly on her ear. "And now," you whisper huskily, into her ear, "I have you pinned beneath me..."

"Oh, fuck, yes," Jieun squirms. She desperately pushes your shirt off your shoulders and then runs her hands over your body. "I like this feeling." She's pushing her hands between your stomachs, pulling open your jeans and pushing them down off your ass.

You return the favour, bringing her into a kiss and reaching to pull her tight jeans open. She lifts her hips to aid you, allowing you to slip them off her hips. You don't have a chance to pull them all the way off, too heavy in your kiss and grinding yourself between her legs.

You reach and pull at her and she breaks the kiss with a soft moan as she grabs your shoulder and shifts her hips. The movements press you into her a little more, and her head goes to the pillows behind her head, tilting back. The angle reveals the beautiful soft and slender curve of her neck and you go at it again, kissing and biting, nibbling and licking, running the tip of your tongue over the hot, smooth expanse and smiling as she wraps her arms and legs around you as tightly as her lips when you kissed her.

"I want you," she gasps. "I want you. Now."

You put an arm under her and pull her up until you're on your knees and she's straddling you. She reaches down, hands into your pants and takes your thick cock in her fist. That first touch. Her soft fingers are on your hardness. It's a rush that hits both of you and suddenly you're kissing again as Jieun awkwardly strokes your length, trying to tease you out.

You decide to make it easier and sit her on the bed, still kissing her intermittently as you stand and push your clothes to your ankles. Standing before Jieun, the most desirable woman you've ever been fortunate enough to touch, you suddenly feel a primal sense of arousal hit.

You lay her back again, and peel those jeans off her slender legs. Slowly down her thighs as they spill out of the denim, then all the way off, until she's in nothing but a pair of black panties, and you're stood over her, naked to the air. Jieun sits up to you and brushes your chest, feeling the shape of the muscles and kneeling back on her haunches, you take her mouth again, sliding your hands up her hips and feeling those supple breasts once more. "Jieun, you're so hot."

Jieun bites your lip, and throws her leg around you, drawing you down and gasps sharply as you find your cock grazing across the smooth expanse of her panties and press at her entrance, almost bursting with desire. Jieun pulls at your hips, urging you between them. She grunts with effort, biting at your neck. "You're everything I have ever wanted."

There's a pause that's filled only by your shared, short panting. This is where it happens. It's more than want and need. The quiet acknowledgement, the long silence, you stare into Jieun's eyes, and both of you nod your heads a fraction, agreeing without speaking a word. You push her panties to the side. Then the contact, the softness and the wetness of her opening as the tip of your cock pushes her apart.

"Oh, shit!" Jieun lets out the involuntary profanity as she claws at your back and moans into the crook of your neck.

It's amazing. Unbelievably, spectacularly, amazing. Her tightness stretches with only minimal effort, and you let out a strained breath.

"Oh my god," Jieun has her fingers clasping tightly to your shoulder and mouth open with pleasure. Her chest rises and falls rapidly as she writhes under you. "You feel amazing... holy shit," she curses.

"Jesus Jieun," you grunt as you sink down just that extra inch, enveloping your full length inside her. "You feel perfect, I could stay here forever."

Jieun does the best she can with that compliment, grinning through clenched teeth. "Thank you. I'm—" She cuts her own sentence short by gasping and reaching higher and taking a handful of your hair in her palm, her nails digging into your skull. "Do it." She orders you and the tone is coated in lust. "Please."

And so you do. Pull out to the sound of her sharp expectant inhale, and back in as she moans her lungs empty, the noises making it impossible to remain idle. Soon enough you have a rhythm of slow, measured thrusts, and are gasping in tune to her beautiful mews.

"God, you feel so damn good," Jieun manages, and she follows by adding, "A little harder, I love it."

It's like that for a few minutes. Jieun's pleasure is palpable with every movement of the bed springs and groans. Though it can't be any louder than the voice in your mind. This is actually happening. Fucking IU, of all people, is on her back beneath you, her beautiful body reacting to your every movement. She reaches for her breasts, rubbing them and pinching at the hardened points and begging, "More, please more," and you give.

Jieun brings her leg higher, arching her back and urging you further into her pussy, driving herself into you with equal force. This time her cry is louder, less controlled and broken by the beat of your bodies against each other, the sound of sex becoming a background harmony. Her feet stretch out behind you, her heels dig at the small of your back and her head falls back on the bed.

"I don't know how... how long I can..." Jieun breathes out. Her leg suddenly jerks and her entire body tenses. "Oh, shit."

You know what's coming, that doesn't make the feeling of her tightening around you any less shocking. She's shivering, gasping for breath and squeezing her eyes tightly, her body growing taut like a string pulled between fists.

"Fuck, Jieun, are you gonna—"

"Yes. Yes." Her entire body convulses. Her fingernails ripping lines up your back, Jieun arches from the bed, a sharp keening whimper from between her lips, followed by a series of high-pitched, short cries.

You're falling into the sheets beside her and pulling her on top of you. Seamlessly you move together, and she's riding you now, throwing her head back. You're lying there and she's a sight to behold. Her petite frame rolls and her toned, lithe muscles shift beneath her smooth skin. Every motion carries her hips as she fucks you.

Her breasts rise and fall, her hands flatten themselves on your chest as she holds herself up, bouncing herself on your cock with insistent determination. Jieun slides her palms upward, bringing them to your shoulders and lowering her chest, you reach to cup her tits, squeezing firmly and a sparkle glimmers in her eyes.

"You're so hard," Jieun purrs.

"You look so good on me, feel it too."

A smile flashes across her lips and the muscles clench,. You drag your hands across the perfect curves, feeling her sides, her ass, sliding back to take two, firm handfuls, pulling her into every movement. Your arms and legs beginning to tingle with your release, and you're losing all feeling other than her silken embrace.

Then you see her grimace and twist her body, breaking again for you. She falls against you and grinds out her orgasm. She quivers over you like a leaf in the wind. You hold her hips steady and stroke her skin as she returns from her high.

"Sorry," she moans a drawn-out apology. "Wanted you to cum, but, I can't..."

You hold her, rising from the bed, "Don't worry, Jieun, I've got this." You lift her and place her onto her side, thighs together, knees together, you push them up to meet her chest. Her perfect ass and thighs are on show, begging for you to slip back inside. She twists her body to watch you lean over her and push her knees into the bed.

You thrust into her, slipping under that one ass cheek, past those moist panties and into her pussy again. Jieun moans aloud again, and the sight of your cock slipping into her, the feel, is mesmerising. Jieun squeals a note.

The feeling, after only a few short thrusts, builds rapidly. And while a part of you wishes to hold back for her, make her cum over and over, she's far too sexy to deny yourself your sole need. Jieun moans and clenches again then cries out, "Please!" Her eyes watching you drive in deeper. And you lose it. The pressure breaks within, you bask in the sights, sounds, and feelings, and let it overwhelm you. "Inside, it's safe."

You spasm and with a deep thrust into her, your cum pours. Thick. Heavy, plentiful spurts as you cling to her trembling body. A final, ragged cry slips past your lips. Energy drained from you, into her, and you near-collapse against her sweat-kissed body.

You slip out of her, collapsing behind her and spooning her trembling body close, you drop kisses across the soft surface of her bare shoulder and take a tight grip on her small, perky tits. She whispers, "That was amazing."

"Tell me about it. The best."

She rolls her head and glances at you. "No, I mean, really, thank you. You were..." she sighs dreamily. "I didn't think it was possible to feel like that."

"We fit well, Jieun," you tell her softly. "There's no need to ever thank me. You really are special."

"Saying things like that," she sobs lightly. "You better be careful or you're going to mean a lot to me."

Your breathing seems loud in the sudden quiet, and you say, "I'd like that Jieun, to matter to you. Being important to you. It'd make me happy."

She is silent for a long moment, staring straight ahead. A single, happy tear rolls from her eye, onto the bed, and then sleep takes over. It is like a force sweeping you into the deepest darkness. It seems to happen between one breath and the next. One moment you're lying next to the most beautiful woman in the world, in the most euphoric, blissful post-coital state. In the next, your eyes blink open, and you're sprawled on your back, alone in the bed.

Her perfume hangs faintly in the air. Like a half-forgotten dream. An unintelligible whisper in the corner of your ear. "Goodnight," she had murmured at some point, in that instant between slumber and consciousness. But as your eyes scan around, her absence, her presence, seems like a dream. Like a mirage. As if she's always been this transient figure in your life. You fall into the pillow.

Then, just as sleep begins its second embrace, there's a knock at the door. There's a pause before a quiet voice speaks, "You awake?"

You sit up in a rush. "Come in," you reply, and Hyori enters.

She cuts right to the chase, as seems to be her way. "Last night, did you two? Wait, don't answer. I can feel it. You did."

"We did."

She walks closes the door firmly behind her, ensuring privacy. "I knew it as soon as she started acting shy this morning. I swear sex is the only thing that makes her shy. Funny little mannerism." Hyori takes a deep breath. "But listen, and listen close, okay?"

You nod for her to go ahead, but instead of going on, she sits down, gathering her thoughts.

She looks at you for a long time and says, "If this, whatever this is, is going to continue, you need to be prepared. It's going to be a mess. You need to hide it, and I mean really hide it, from everyone. Think how nuts the press will go."

You open your mouth to talk but she raises a finger.

"Hear me out. You have to remember that. This can't be normal, it will probably never be normal. That girl is special and this whole country knows it. There will always be cameras. And there will be times when you miss her because she's away. Sometimes for days or weeks and it's not the end of the world, because she has her job, and her fans depend on it. And as I'm sure you saw at dinner the other night, she does too, she loves her career."

Hyori sighs and rubs her forehead. "I know this seems a lot. You have known each other barely a week and I'm piling this onto you, but you need to know what you're getting into."

You smile. "I get it."

"You don't. Trust me. Not until you've lived it. Look, Jieun's an amazing girl. I like you, she likes you, a lot. I think you can make this work." She takes a big breath and says, "Welcome to this weird fucking world."

You chuckle quietly and nod in thanks.

"Now, if you're wondering where she has gone, she's out picking some flowers for the side dishes for later. They're recording something for the show right now but you can go out and join her in ten minutes, if you like?"

"That'd be great."

Hyori leaves and true to her word, when you venture downstairs and out onto the garden. Jieun's knelt along the rows. Her hair blows in a gentle breeze, and with the flowerbeds just in front, she is a blessed sight for tired eyes.

You go to her and ask, "Working hard?"

"Hey, you woke up," she beams at you.

"Had a chat with Hyori, too."

"Was it alright?" Jieun's face turns pale and worried, and her voice drops to a whisper. "She didn't try to get in your head, right?"

"It was fine, Jieun, she did give me the talk, though. A warning and a blessing, I think."

"Any regrets?" Jieun asks, timidly.

"What? No. God no. None at all. Actually, the only thought I had was if you would like to eat alone tonight? Just you and me, and then maybe we can go on another walk together, I enjoyed that."

"I'd love that," she says, her voice shaky, before a warm smile grows on her face.

"So, can I help you with the flowers?"

#kinktember #kpop smut #IU smut #Lee Jieun smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #m reader #smut #IU x reader #mirror

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roosterforme · 6 months ago

Text

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 13 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: One night with Bradley leaves you wanting more of him in every way, and he's more than willing to make sure you're satisfied. But there shouldn't have been any other interruptions. Especially not when your newly established boyfriend was so willing to talk about the future.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, language, unprotected sex, oral sex, smut, Bradley in love, 18+

Length: 3300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

You fell asleep with Bradley's big arm wrapped around you and the front of his naked body pressed to the back of yours. He stroked your skin and whispered the sweetest things next to your ear. Like how he was going to cook breakfast for you in the morning, and how he never wanted this weekend to end. Like how he had been falling for you for months.

You were worn out from sex in his bed and sex in the shower, and you yawned as you said, "I can't believe I just met my boyfriend a week ago."

He snorted softly and kissed the shell of your ear. "We've covered a lot of ground during that week. And we met way before that, Gorgeous. I knew you were perfect well before last Friday."

Bradley was too much, and all you could do was succumb to the warmth of his body all over yours as you dozed. You never slept this well, but especially not over the past few months. You'd found yourself always a little bit worried about Bradley's deployment when he was gone, and you were constantly wondering when you'd hear from him again. But right now, your body seemed to realize you were allowed to relax completely since he was with you. When you woke, it was to find the early morning sun shining through the curtains into the bedroom you already felt comfortable in after just a short time.

"Bradley," you murmured, his arm heavy against you. Then it tightened as he pulled you closer, and you smiled when your back met his chest. But you gasped softly when you felt his erection press against your thigh.

"Morning, Baby," he whispered in a deep rasp that left you seeing stars. His fingers were tracing the valley between your bare breasts, and his lips found your shoulder. "How'd you sleep?"

You needed to contain yourself. You'd already had him twice last night. You shouldn't be feeling like you needed him every waking minute all day long. But you did. "So good," you replied, and it came out as a soft moan that left his fingers trailing down your belly as you squeezed your thighs together in anticipation of his exploratory touch everywhere.

When you rubbed your leg back against his cock, you were rewarded with a grunt. When you did it again, he asked, "Will you let me taste you?"

The haze of sleep was still clouding your mind as he skimmed his fingers lower and lower. He'd already had his tongue in your mouth and all over your skin. He tasted you last night. But when he tucked his big hand between your thighs and cupped your pussy, tracing little shapes as he awaited an answer, you realized what he meant. And you realized how badly you wanted his mouth where his fingers were.

You turned your head back until you met his brown eyes. His cheeks were pink, his hair was a mess, and his lips were parted as he raised his eyebrow. "Yes," you whispered, and he was in motion. You rolled onto your back with a giggle and let your legs part, but he pushed them open wider with his hips as he settled on top of you.

"I'll bet you taste as sweet as you kiss," he murmured before letting his lips skim along yours. "Like fucking sugar."

Just when you tried to deepen the kiss, he pulled away, an excited expression on his face as he started to move down your body. A chill ran through you as your warm skin was exposed to the air, and Bradley took the time to nip at your breasts and belly before he was gently sucking on your inner thigh. Your pussy was spread for him as he eased your legs even further apart, and you let your fingers tangle in his hair as he said, "I have an idea. Something I've wanted to do for weeks."

"Yes," you whined as he kissed your clit softly.

"I didn't even tell you what I'm going to do," he replied, nuzzling his nose against you as he stroked your thighs with his fingers.

"I don't care," you said, back already arching slightly as you tugged on his hair. "I want you to do it."

He licked one long stripe through your pussy, moaning as he tasted you. "Holy hell. So fucking sweet." His mouth found your clit, and you squealed as he sucked until your nipples were furled and your heels were digging into his bed. When he released you, he looked up your body, met your eyes and said, "I want to make sure my pretty teacher knows her ABCs."

"What?" you gasped, head already spinning, but then he grinned a bit devilishly as he rubbed his stubbled cheek against your inner thigh. "I know my ABCs," you promised.

"We'll see," he replied. "There will be a quiz."

Bradley's big hands gripped your thighs, and his tongue swiped the letter A up and down and across your pussy. "Bradley!" you cried out as he kissed your clit softly and almost soothingly after making your hips buck.

"Next is B, for Bradley's," he rasped, and your belly clenched with desire as he drew the letter B with the tip of his tongue. Once again, he punctuated the letter with a soft kiss, and you had to grasp at his bedding to keep yourself as still as possible. His shoulders were broad and digging into your thighs, and he was smiling as you whimpered when he drew a smooth letter C.

"Oh fuck me," you whined, convinced you were dripping all over his sheets with need as he drew a D and an E.

"We can fuck in a minute," he replied, clearly unhurried as he drew a perfect F, G, H. When you started bucking, he took a break to kiss along your thighs and let his hands trail to your knees.

The fact that you weren't even slightly self conscious as you demanded, "More," made you feel incredible, and you dug your fingers into his hair again. I, J, K, L and M were written with his tongue in such rapid succession, you were panting. "More." N, O, P, Q and R made you clench around nothing as your back arched and you stared at his headboard. You were trying to stay in control, but your orgasm was building with S, T and U.

Your thighs were starting to tighten around his head, and he had to coax them further apart, giving you a little break as his nose grazed your clit. As soon as you relaxed your legs, you heard him murmur, "Good girl," before he flicked the letter V down to your opening and back up. The W had his tongue back on your clit, and his X and Y gave you a small reprieve before he traced the letter Z all through your pussy until you were shaking with need.

"Fuck." You were pleading with him as he brought his big body back above yours, bracing himself with his biceps as his heavy cock rested against your soaking, needy pussy.

He kissed your neck and your ear lazily as he whispered, "Quiz time. What was the letter B for?"

You sighed as he started to push his tip inside you. "Bradley's," you managed before he took your breath away with a deep thrust and a thumb to your clit. You came almost immediately from the fullness and the direct stimulation, and he devoured your mouth as your shaking hands found his shoulders. His thrusting was fluid and delicious just like his mouth had been, but now his tongue was tangled with yours. You just held on as tight as you could as you whined his name shamelessly.

"I want to cum inside you again," he grunted. "Please."

"Yes," you immediately agreed, clenching around his cock as you thought about the mess he'd made last night.

As the rush of your pleasure started to recede, you watched his handsome features while he got closer and closer to his own orgasm, his eyes fixed on your face. When you brought your hand up to cup his cheek and touch his scars, he growled your name and made a mess of you all over again.

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

Bradley just had arguably the best night in recent memory. Or maybe ever. Now he had you in his kitchen at 9:00, and you were wearing nothing but his sweatshirt and his cum while you looked in the refrigerator for breakfast options. He stepped up behind you and wrapped one arm around your waist and let his chin rest on your shoulder. As you poked around at the gallon of milk and the carton of eggs, he murmured, "Want me to make you French toast and coffee, Gorgeous?"

"Absolutely," you practically moaned, pulling both items out and setting them on the counter. He worked around you, reaching down a baking dish and cinnamon while he stood behind you, occasionally kissing your ear while you dipped slices of raisin bread into the concoction he whipped up.

He was about to turn on the stove when you spun to face him and wrapped your arms around his neck. His sweatshirt rode up your body, and he let his hands rest on your bare ass as he grinned. "So do you want to hang out here again next weekend or up at your place?" he asked.

You made him feel confident, and he squeezed his fingers into your warm flesh as you laughed and buried your face against his neck. Your soft groan was followed by, "I already want so much more."

He was about to tell you that you already had him wrapped around your fingers when you went stiff in his arms. Bradley heard a key in his front door as you pulled away from him, and his head tipped back in frustration at the surprised look on your face. You were tugging his shirt lower on your thighs and clearly panicking as you looked toward the living room, and then your face went stony.

"It's not what you think, Baby," he promised when he caught sight of the intruder who was standing just inside his house in her matching hot pink spandex shorts and sports bra, spinning her copy of his house key around on her finger.

"How many fucking ex-girlfriends do you have, Bradley?" you asked, voice shaking as you stared at Natasha Trace. He could practically hear the tears in your words even though your sentence made him want to laugh.

"I am most certainly not his ex-girlfriend," Natasha replied, clearly as appalled as he was by the mere suggestion.

"Who is she?" you asked quietly as soon as you were focused on him, your back to the front door. "Don't lie to me."

"I wouldn't," he insisted, and you let him pull you closer as he said, "That's my best friend, Natasha. We usually go for early runs together before it gets too hot out when neither of us are deployed."

"Oh," you gasped softly. "She's the friend you had steaks and beers with last Sunday?"

"Yes. I've been friends with her for thirteen years. There's nothing going on." Bradley could appreciate that Nat was objectively very pretty, but he'd rather starve for a week than have to see her with less clothing than she had on right now. He kissed your forehead before he looked at his friend and said, "Nat, this is my girlfriend. She's going to be around here a lot. So maybe text before you use your key?"

But now you and she were looking at each other curiously as your hand drifted down his bare arm where he was standing in his favorite pair of gym shorts. You laced your fingers with his as Nat said, "I knew she looked familiar when you showed me her picture!"

"You're so familiar, too," you replied before looking up at him. "You showed your best friend my picture?"

Nat snorted with laughter. "He had to swipe through an entire folder to find one that wasn't personal." You buried your face in your free hand even as you laughed, and then Nat said, "But he could have just showed me the one that I took of you on the beach!"

When you looked at her again, your lips parted in surprise. "It's you! Oh my goodness, Bradley! Natasha took my sunset photo for me! The one I sent to you when you were deployed."

He knew that photo well, and something about this just felt right. "Prettiest thing I'd ever seen before I saw you in person."

"I guess it worked," Nat said with a smile, still twirling the key. "When I took it, you did say it was for the hot guy you hoped was going to ask you out for dinner."

"He asked me out for dinner and then some," you said, dropping his hand and taking a step closer to her. "I'm really sorry if I came across as rude, but his horrible ex, Vanessa, knocked on his door after I got here yesterday. I just thought I was going to have to fight someone for a second here."

Nat waved her hand letting you know all was forgiven, but her voice was snippy as she looked at Bradley and asked, "What the hell did Vanessa want? I sent her and her goddamn cup packing months ago."

He was about to respond when you said, "She was awful. She was so mean to him, and then she acted like she wanted to sleep with him, and then she was mean to him again!"

Nat's eyes narrowed. "I'm sure she took one look at you and got so jealous. You're lovely, and from what Bradley has told me, he's falling in love with you."

He choked on the air he was inhaling as he reached for you. Now you had a dreamy look on your face as Nat smirked at him. "Are you sufficiently convinced I'm not being catfished? Can you leave now?" he hissed. He wanted to tell you those words himself. He was thinking about doing it over French toast and coffee before Nat showed up.

She basically ignored him as she asked you, "Are you sleeping over again? I won't bother stopping to get him for a run tomorrow morning if you are."

You glanced up at him and bit your lip. "I mean, I was certainly hoping to sleep over again."

"She's sleeping over again," Bradley confirmed, kissing your forehead.

"Okay, I'm sleeping over again. But," you added, turning back toward his friend and tugging his sweatshirt lower on your thighs, "You should definitely come by again tomorrow. I'll have him ready for a run at 9:00. I don't mind sparing him for a bit while I lounge in bed."

Nat smiled and started to back towards the door. "Sounds good. I'll be back tomorrow, and I'll even take a nice picture of him for you when he's all sweaty and looks like a mess. Also, we should get coffee sometime. Get my number from Rooster?"

"Will do," you said, waving to her as she vanished back outside, shutting the door behind her. You jumped into his arms and buried your face in his chest. "I'm so embarrassed that I met your best friend without pants on."

Bradley burst into laughter as he started to lead you back into the kitchen. "I'm sure that didn't faze her one bit. And I swear I don't have any other recent ex-girlfriends or any other best friends or anyone else who should interrupt us while I make you French toast."

"And coffee."

"And coffee. And anything you want."

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

Once you had a belly full of Bradley's homemade breakfast and coffee that he tried his best to replicate from your favorite Starbucks drink, you ended up on his couch. But this time you were on your back, and you couldn't stop laughing as he tried to join you comfortably. "I'll buy a bigger couch," he grumbled, wedging his knee between the cushions and bracing himself with his hands so he didn't squish you.

"No. You can't. This is my favorite thing ever." The sweatshirt was pushed up above your belly button now, and the fabric of his gym shorts was soft against your slick core as you moved your leg to make more room for him.

"I can't say I'm not loving it too," he murmured, kissing you. "I still can't believe you're here. I can't believe I blindly got mail from the woman of my dreams."

You were down bad. You were down horrendous. You were never going to be able to get back up after Bradley Bradshaw. His skin was warm and smelled so good as he kissed you everywhere and told you how much he liked every inch of you inside and out. His fingers were laced with yours, and he nearly fell on the floor as you nudged his ribs with your knee. You laughed at the look of surprise on his face as he caught himself. "Let's go back to your bed," you whispered. "I'm going to need a little more room to do what I want right now, but we can come back out here later to snuggle."

"Shit." He got to his feet and helped you up. "Let's do it."

The two of you spent the day between his bed, his couch, and the little patio table out back. You never really stopped touching him, and you and he never really stopped talking. "I'll come back here next weekend," you promised him as you sat on his lap outside and watched the sunset.

"But maybe I can spend a night at your place during the week," he mused.

"Sure, but your house is so much nicer than my apartment."

"I'm glad you think so, Gorgeous. There's plenty of room for you here."

It was too easy to imagine, so you tried not to, but living here would be incredible. You'd be with Bradley all the time, and then when he was deployed, you could take care of everything so he didn't have to worry about it. This would be the easiest fantasy to get lost in if you let yourself, and the implications left your skin tingling as you kissed him. The sky grew darker around you as his big hand found your thigh like it belonged there.

"You should really start thinking about what you want for breakfast tomorrow," he muttered, inching his hand up as your forehead rested against his. "And let me know which day I can visit your classroom again, because I think I'd like to stay over at your place afterwards. It would make the most sense."

"God, you're too much, Bradley." You were going to melt if he kept this up. "Any day is good except for Thursday, because my kids have gym and library."

"I can work with that." His hand went higher, making you even crazier for him in the cool dusk air. "You think you need another ABC refresher? I could use a snack."

Your cheeks heated with need even as you agreed and led him inside to his bedroom. "You're always hungry, aren't you?"

"For you," he insisted.

Later, when the two of you were a pile of tangled up limbs, and your skin was slick with sweat, Bradley collected you against him. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat started lulling you to sleep as your exhausted body relaxed completely against his. Your eyes were closed, and you were just starting to doze when Bradley's arm tightened gently around you. His voice was deep and sure, right next to your ear, and you smiled as he said, "I love you, my Gorgeous pen pal."

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

Well, he said it. He said it, and now I'm melting even more for him. A mid-week sleep over already? I don't think I can help myself, but that morning commute might be brutal. Only one way to find out. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls and @daggerspare-standingby (for the ABCs!)

PART 14

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qingxin-dream · 1 year ago

Text

“Moonlight Showing”

summary | lyney whisks you away after his performance, wanting to make the most of his last night with his secret lover for awhile. (art credits: @/kiyonvmi on twitter).

warnings | profanity, smut [18+, MDNI], female-bodied reader, exhibitionism/public sex (creampie), a sprinkle of dominance, breeding, honestly fairly vanilla otherwise bc lyney is such a sweetheart, lyney speaks a little french

genre | smut

word count | 1.6k

pairing | lyney x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Long after the crowd had dispersed from the picturesque Opera Epiclese at the close of Lyney and Lynette’s show, the beautiful gardens lie vacant under the moon’s silvery gaze. All the guests and staff had long taken the aqua-bus back to the Court of Fontaine to return home. There was not a soul in sight at this late hour.

However, even as the city sleeps, Coppelius and Coppelia—a mechanical wonder gifted to the Opera by the Fontaine Research Institute—continue their romantic dance in the courtyard. They never failed to captivate any audience as the reflective metal of the star-crossed lovers glimmered under sun or moon, rain or shine.

Atop the many steps leading down to the outdoor stage is a hand-carved throne of stone hidden behind the cypress trees encircling the scene. From afar perhaps it appears that there are indeed still two people lingering from the night’s magical performance, sitting together to admire the lovely dance.

To any innocent passersby, the sight was undoubtedly endearing and romantic. There’s nothing quite like the rush of young love. It was a good thing no one was here to bear witness; and even better that your lover was so cunning and clever, choosing such a secluded spot to have you in his lap.

Lyney’s gloved hands gripped the curve of your waist firmly, the pads of his fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he sinks your hips back down onto his hardened cock with a soft grunt of pleasure. You were forced to hold onto the cool armrests of the throne to keep yourself steady, the unexpectedly cold surface causing your walls to spasm and flutter around him. Groaning lewdly in your ear, Lyney was practically hypnotized by the way the white ring of your essence coated the base of his cock.

Your poor little legs were shaking. You couldn’t count how many times Lyney had made you cum, and yet he was utterly insatiable tonight. The erotic mixture of your fluids lubricated every inch of cock nicely. His smug, seductive laughter was a beautiful soft melody in your ears as the magician teased the tip of his length at your entrance, watching the nuances of your orgasmic expression once more.

With the ends of your sexy little red dress lifted up in his right fist, his other hand smacked your ass loudly. “You wore this on purpose, didn’t you, mon amour?”

A bratty whine rumbled in your throat as he forced you to continue fucking yourself on his throbbing length. You couldn’t possibly muster up a coherent response in your cockdrunk state. Cute little pants adorned the sound of your sex slapping onto his pelvis lightly smeared with your juices.

Lyney yanked you back by the hip to bury his needy cock into you, abruptly pulling the front of your dress down so your breasts spilled out into the open air. He loved feeling the enticing, malleable flesh between his fingers, occasionally pinching your adorable nipples to earn a sweet little moan out of you.

“Oh, fuck,” he murmured from behind, taking his thumb under the string of your lacy thong to get an unobstructed view of how your slutty hole gripped and swallowed his cock over and over. Lyney’s voice was deep and honeyed, enough to have you whimpering under your breath in anticipation. “Don’t you cream on my tights now. You’ve been such a good girl for me tonight, (Y/N).”

“Mm, mhmm,” you nod obediently, focusing intensely on the sensation of his cock continuously stretching your walls in the most delicious rhythm. You swear he must have memorized the exact spot that drove you wild. “Y-you fuck me… so good…”

“Mon amour, please, you’re doing all the work,” Lyney’s voice resounds lowly into the shell of your ear, smug and soft as velvet. He leans into your neck, nibbling at your sensitive skin. A seductive giggle warms your shoulder and sends shivers prickling down your spine. “Why don’t you let me work my magic, hm?”

You settle yourself completely onto his pretty cock, resting your back gently against his chest. Lyney continues to encourage you with sweet nothings, distracting you with his words of praise while gloved fingers cup underneath your plush thighs and spread your legs. He gently guides your legs apart to set your calves onto the cool armrests on either side of you.

You hear him draw in a sharp breath as your spongy walls suddenly tighten again. “Are you trying to milk me dry, mon cœur?”

“I’m sorry. C-can’t help it,” you mumble, practically a whimper as this position has your cunt clenching down and damn near feeling every curve and contour as Lyney’s cock angles into you from underneath.

He smirked, presenting the pink petals of your wet flower long decorated in cum to the empty gardens of the Opera Epiclese. Though it was just the two of you and the mechanical dancers below, the mere thought of anyone catching a glimpse of how his thick cock split you open was beyond thrilling to Lyney. Call it a showman’s pride in his performance.

And for Archon’s sake, every little bit of movement had you rolling your head back with a litany of soft-spoken profanities and prayers leaving your lips. Yet you found yourself curious, leaning forward slightly, mesmerized by the way he stuffed you nice and tight.

Lyney chuckled, always one to study and revel in his audience’s wonder, and even more so with his secret lover. He drank you in like fine wine, pupils dilating and swirling with endless pool of desire as you struggled to take him like this.

“Give me your fingers, ma chérie,” he asks, though his tone is surprisingly firm. It wasn’t really a question. You reached around your shoulder to offer him a shaky hand, your breath catching as something hot and wet envelopes your index and middle finger. “Touch yourself.”

Heat flushed your cheeks as Lyney’s warm saliva drips from your digits. Parting your folds, you liberally massaged in circles around your clit, already a bit swollen and puffy from your previous lovemaking sessions on the throne. You curse under your breath between moans, reaching further down to trace your fingers at the bottom of his cock and marvel at the way he disappears inside of you.

The magician groans faintly, the brush of your fingers leaving him extra sensitive as you grind your hips into him. His words come out as a desperate whisper in the night air, a plea only your delicate ears are privy to. “H-hah, fuck, it’s so perfect… ‘n’ made for me.”

Lyney’s hands trail down your sides lovingly, making sure you’re well adjusted to his length in this unique position. In the wake of his fleeting touch, he plants featherlight kisses wherever possible on your spine. He presses a final chaste kiss on your shoulder blade before leaning back, cupping the bottom of your thighs to support you.

“Call my name, mon cœur, that’s all I ask,” he groans, thrusting his cock fully into your dripping hole. You cry out, gasping as his tip reaches the deepest part of you and rubs against every lovely ridge of your walls. Lyney hushes your loud moan, not to deter you but rather to comfort you.

Caressing the innermost parts of your thigh, the magician effortlessly holds you from underneath to help you relax around his cock. He can see your back muscles loosen up, and he whispers to you, “Look up—look at the moon—she’s our spotlight, yeah?”

“Keep your pretty eyes on the heavens. I promise I’ll take you there,” Lyney coos, the timbre of his voice laced with longing. You were hopelessly ensnared in his web of passion and temptation, more than willing to submit to his saccharine words and whims. He smiled, praising you as your eyes drifted up to the full moon. “Je t'aime.”

Just as your reply was on the tip of your tongue, the magician squeezed the bottom of your thighs and finally bucked his hips up ruthlessly into your cunt. Despite how much Lyney prepared you for this position, he still stole your breath away. It was all you could do to meet the intensity of his thrusts. “L-Lyney…! Oh my god, fuck… keep going, p-please…”

Your orgasm was already stirring in the depths of your pelvis with Lyney pounding against your G-spot repeatedly without fail. His grip on the flesh of your hips became possessive, a low growl following his rapid thrusts. “Did I say to stop touching yourself? I want you a fucking mess on my cock.”

Apologies weren’t what he wanted. This was the final act of the night before you were to be separated for Archons knows how long. Lyney wasn’t about to waste this precious time without giving you the moon, the stars, and the whole damn universe—rocketing you to your climax after you fingers messily flitted across your clit.

“Lyney! I’m cumming, a-ah!” you nearly screamed in pure ecstasy and amazement, your legs quaking and threatening to collapse onto him. Waves upon waves of pleasure wash over you. You couldn’t believe how he relentlessly fucked your release into your sopping pussy, utterly blissed out and wishing for his seed like a whore.

Coaching you through your strongest orgasm yet, he exhales heavily and clutches you tightly, “That’s it, that’s it. Yeah… Sing for me, mon amour. You feel so, so good.”

Just as your climax reached its crescendo, Lyney’s cock twitched inside you and dribbled cum out of your abused hole when he pulled out. His fingers were buried into your skin, certainly enough to leave a bruise on your hips in the morning. Even though the magician was exhausted after the night’s worth of lovemaking, he spun you around and captured your lips softly—wanting to taste your post-orgasmic pants for air.

“It’s a shame,” Lyney chuckled warmly into your mouth, seemingly unable to detach himself from your decadent lips. “I really liked this dress on you.”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated. my masterlist.

#not me literally taking pics of lyney at this spot and being like ‘hmm this would be a good spot to fuck’ lmao #[opulent dreams].✿#[dreams of delusion].✿#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin lyney #lyney x reader #lyney smut

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zenokei · 8 months ago

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— the sun has set ; michael kaiser.

starring :: michael kaiser x reader

wc :: 800

tags :: hurt/comfort, reverse comfort, nightmares, implied self harm and abuse, kaisers backstory (brief)

synopsis :: michael kaiser often times has nightmares about his past, and you’re the only one who seems to not mind his outbursts.

when michael kaiser has days where the weight of his life seems to overcome his resolve, there will be no doubt that on that night, scenes of his past come and haunt him. agonizing nightmares keeping him pinned onto nothing but illusion as he chokes on awaiting tears in his sleep. it’s unbearable, really: constant tossing and turning without his consciousness, harsh clutching of his blanket, and the straining furrow of his eyebrows—and it hasn’t changed ever since.

well, perhaps it’s been bearable from the moment you’ve been by his side when he sleeps.

“mihya,” you call softly, “come on, wake up.”

drenched in sweat, kaiser gasps as his eyes open to darkness. he reaches out for what’s closest to him, and to his advantage, it’s you. “you’re with me.” you mumble, fingers combing through his hair—not stopping until you feel his body’s tension loosen up, even for a little bit. “i’m with you.” from his head that’s buried on your abdomen, he looks up; breath still undeniably trembling with frustration and anxiety.

“you- what time is it?” it’s too quiet around you both, the busy streets outside sounding empty–only the sound of light rain echoing is out. “it doesn’t matter, rest up again. i’m right here.” when kaiser realizes he’s overslept from the initial nap he took many, many hours ago, he feels around for his phone.

12:39am.

“liebling, sorry- you should be the one asleep. i’ve had plenty already.” suddenly, kaiser rushes off the bed, slightly stumbling as he does so. the abrupt loss of his presence creates a frown on your face. knowing his usual ways when facing a nightmare of such level, kaiser isolates himself.

“mihya,” you call out, voice still kind as ever, yet he doesn’t look back.

“mihya,” you call once more, and you’re standing up from the bed, going after him.

“michael!” now, he looks at you: eyes in disbelief when you tug on his arm with force. “let me go. i’m going for a walk.” he pulls back, but you don’t let him. “not tonight, stay inside.” although you knew what to be expecting, the sheer anger and pain in his voice has you wincing. “it’s too fucking suffocating here right now- damn it, don’t touch me!” as kaiser hears his own words when you reluctantly let go of his arm, his body slumps down to the floor.

his back is against the doorframe, legs tucked onto his chest like a pitiful child as his head is hung low. looking down at him, your breath shudders for a moment. you assume–rather you’re fairly certain that kaiser’s nightmare still lingers in his eyes. him mistaking you for someone that would hurt him is most likely.

so you take his pace, sitting down in front of him on the cold ground even if he doesn’t dare look at you. “out of all people, why you?” kaiser tiredly whispers, arms muffling his voice. “me?” you whisper back, copying the way he’s sitting, although it only differs as your eyes are locked on him. “why did i think you were him? you’re not him.” kaiser’s voice is small, hands tentatively tapping on his skin as he trembles. “mn. i’m not. it was just a nightmare, mihya.” once more, his breath is uneven, and it’s bothering you more.

“it’s not about that! why am i always thinking about that bastard, even though there’s no reason? even in my fucking sleep, i see him! what the fuck is up with that?” you only hum, feeling sorrow come undone from kaiser’s body. “am i not free? despite everything i’ve done to leave that shitty place?” when you see kaiser’s hand itch to grasp at his neck, you quickly intervene. concern washes over you when you notice just how glossy kaiser’s cheeks are, its faint shine is reflecting under the dim light.

“mihya, you’re with me. are you not? that should answer everything.”

you gently lean your body towards his, and kaiser’s head rests itself on the warmth of your neck. “but-” his frustrated sobs are getting covered up by you. “no. nothing more, nothing less, mihya. i’m with you, and you’re with me.” his arms heavily grip on your shirt, fingers trembling as he tightly embraces you. “it was only a bad day,” you whisper in his hair, lovingly hushing him to only listen to your lone voice. “mihya, it’s okay.” kaiser’s body is still shivering under your hold, tears dampening your collarbone as it seems to not give in anytime soon. but that’s fine.

“we can stay here like this, or maybe go back to sleep if you’d like that instead.” the palms of your hand gently pry his face from your shoulder, and it continues to caress it as kaiser sniffles. “what do you think?” the burden in kaiser’s mind dissipates to your palm, its weight getting heavier as he pushes his head onto it.

“stay,” and you will. with a tender thumb that wipes away his tears, it consoles him, making kaiser feel the most humane as he’s ever felt.

“okay.” you smile at him, before pulling him back into an embrace that kaiser will never take for granted.

#blue lock #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser michael x reader #bllk #blue lock x reader #kaiser x reader #bllk x reader #michael kaiser #kaiser michael #blue lock imagines #michael kaiser x you #zenokei | works #fanfiction

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persphonesorchid · 2 months ago

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Echoes Of Nebula - MYG

Summary: Some people say that soulmates are made of the same star, a part of each other, one and the same. Stars don’t live forever, Yoongi found, but they do burn forever.

Genre: Exes to lovers, angst, fluff

Word Count: 5.5k

Warning(s): I don't think there's any, but let me know if I've missed! Any mistakes are my own, I proofread this one (1) time 😭

Masterlist

Notes: Eep, hello! Here's this lil thing I've been working on! Also, Yoongi and Mc didn't end on bad terms, their separation was somewhat mutual and they're all good :)). Feedback is always appreciated and encouraged! Enjoy!

“Make sure to eat, okay?”

Snow swirls along the train tracks, following a gust as a train pulls into the station. There’s the bustle of people getting on and some getting off, bundled up warmly against the winter air. Some are going to see their families, some are taking a break from theirs. Some of them are stepping onto the train to never step foot in this town again. Some of them are just starting the first day of their adult lives.

Min Yoongi? He’s moving to Seoul.

Your hands tuck the ends of his scarf securely into his sweater, staring at him like you’re trying to memorize his face. Your tears make tracks against your cheeks and dry quickly in the cold.

Min Yoongi is breaking up with his girlfriend.

“Eat on time. And I don’t mean ramyeon because you’re too lazy to cook.” You sniffle, and Yoongi wipes under your eyes with his thumbs. His glove has a hole in it. Not that it matters much right now, he’s trying to get you to stop crying. “Sleep on time, not when the sun’s coming up.”

Min Yoongi is trying not to cry.

“Okay.” He holds you still because he’s trying to memorize your face. He’s got pictures, even the silly ones that he took and promised to delete, but they won’t compare. “I’m sorry.”

He must’ve apologised for the millionth time. He doesn’t know what else to say.

You nod, smile — sadly, tears on your waterline — and, “I understand.” for the millionth time.

He’s moving to Seoul, a long way away from Daegu.

A mixtape he made for shits and giggles took off and pulled him with it, and he has no choice but to follow. Your life is in this little town like a ship in a bottle and like a captain you’ll go down with it. You can’t follow.

You both talked about it for days, compromising, bargaining, but in the end, your lives are going separate ways.

Stars either explode or implode when they die, and Yoongi feel like the star you’re both made of has finally reached its end. It’s imploding, folding in on itself and pulling everything with it.

He has five minutes left to take you in, how the tears shine in your eyes despite his efforts, the string of the necklace he won you at a fair peeking from behind your scarf. The way you smile and your eyes squint, the way he could feel the chill of your hands through his gloves.

He wants to stay right here in this moment and never leave if it meant he could take you in for five minutes till eternity.

“Remember to...” His throat feels raw, but it’s because of the cold and definitely not because he’s crying. The lump in his throat makes it hard to swallow. He looks somewhere above your head to give himself a second, things like these are always hard for him. “Remember to dress for the weather.”

He squeezes your hands, takes a breath that he almost chokes on, and looks back at you. “Don’t skip meals. Get warm when you feel cold. Always carry an umbrella in July.”

Sometime later, Yoongi will wonder if the things he reminded you to do made much sense, if they mattered at all. Wonders if you’d actually remember. The umbrella one is really important; you always forget.

He sat where he could see you when his five minutes were up and eternity never came. Waving from behind a glass and missing the warmth of you and the sound of your voice. He watches you wipe your tears and smile big and you walk alongside the train when it pulls off and then you run, and then, Yoongi could no longer see you.

Min Yoongi broke up with his girlfriend and left her in the middle of winter chasing a train.

July is always rainy.

And every time it rains, Min Yoongi remembers the love he left in winter. He wonders if you remember to carry an umbrella. It’s been five years; he wonders if you remember him at all.

He watches the rain splash into puddles and listens to the patter against his umbrella. Seoul bustles on, indifferent to the weather, its crowds meandering through the mid-summer downpour. Despite the season’s warmth, a stray breeze slips past his collar and reminds him of colder days. He’s grateful his gloves no longer have holes.

He walks along the sidewalk, carried by the crowd’s flow without much thought.

There’s not much that he wishes for anymore, not much he can wish for when he’s got everything. He lives in a high rise, works at the top music production company. Sometimes it’s a bit hard being the most sought-after producer in Seoul. Life has been good; he can’t complain. That mixtape opened doors he thought he’d be knocking on forever, and he’s worked hard to keep them open.

Min Yoongi doesn’t need much of anything else.

But on days like this, when the wind is just a little chilly and the sky’s opened up and crying, he misses you.

Sometimes he looks back on that day and feel guilt. He knows it was just as hard for you as it was for him, the pain in your eyes that you smiled through.

For a while, he’d call you every night and update you, made sure that you were doing well. For a while, he’d keep up with you and made sure that you’re doing well. For a while, he’d call you every now and then, see if you’re doing well.

For a while, it had been a while and life, and then five years slinked on by.

Yoongi sighs, and there’s guilt in it. He got busy, as one gets being a producer in Seoul with a shit ton of expectations. He’s changed phones over the years, lost your contact, and he got busy.

Of course, he’s dated — mostly blind dates his friends set him up on — and he’s tried his best to push forward. There’s no point living in the past, he’s sure you’ve moved on and on by now. Sometimes he’s fine, and sometimes he’s back on that train station platform, wishing he’d begged you to come with him.

It would’ve been the selfish thing. It wouldn’t have been fair to you had he done that. When he got to Seoul, he’d buried himself so deep into his work he barely found himself. He would’ve dragged you out here, made you give up everything just to sit on the side-lines.

He misses you sometimes, anyways. He’s forgotten the sound of your laugh, but he still remembers the way your nose scrunches when you do. He’s forgotten the scent of your favourite perfume, but he remembers the way you lit up when he saved up and bought you a bottle forever ago.

Min Yoongi wonders if you remember him at all.

As Yoongi turns the corner, his umbrella catches a gust of wind and flips inside out. He fights with it for a moment before giving up, letting the rain soak his hair and the front of his jacket and jeans. He can’t help but laugh at the irony, standing there drenched, remembering the countless times he reminded you to carry an umbrella.

In the distance, he spots a small café and decides to seek shelter. The bell above the door jingles as he enters, and the warm, cozy atmosphere wraps around him like a comforting hug. He shakes off his umbrella – finally pulling it back down – and steps up to the counter, ordering a hot coffee to chase away the chill.

As he waits, his eyes wander around the café, taking in the rustic décor and the soft hum of conversation. A bulletin board on the wall catches his attention, filled with flyers and photos. His gaze lands on a familiar face, and his heart skips a beat.

It’s you. Your photo, smiling brightly, pinned among various advertisements and announcements. You’re standing next to a large canvas, looking proud. He steps closer, reading the caption beneath your picture: “Local Artist Exhibition - Featuring Works by ________.”

Yoongi’s mind races as he takes in the information. You’re here in Seoul, and you’ve been showcasing your art. A mix of emotions floods through him—relief, excitement, and a twinge of nervousness. He jots down the address of the gallery from the flyer without much thought and leaves without his coffee.

As Yoongi steps out into the rain, a million thoughts swirl through his mind, each one more turbulent than the last. He wonders why you never sought him out. Seoul is vast, but you’d known he was here, making waves in the music scene. Did you ever think about him? Did you ever miss him?

The realization hits him hard: he never knew you were doing art before he left. In all your conversations, all your late-night talks and shared dreams, you never mentioned a passion for painting. He feels a pang of guilt. Had he been so wrapped up in his own ambitions that he failed to notice yours? The thought stings, and he can't shake the feeling that he should have been there for your journey, supporting you the way you always supported him.

The gallery isn’t far, and soon he’s standing in front of it, his heart pounding in his chest. He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open, the sound of soft music and hushed voices greeting him. There’s quite a bit of people mingling about in quiet discussion, taking photos of the art mounted on the walls under ambient lighting.

Inside the gallery, he feels out of place. The walls, adorned with your art, are a testament to a part of your life he knows nothing about. Each piece is beautiful, but they also serve as a painful reminder of how much he’s missed. He wonders how many late nights you spent creating these, how many times you might have needed someone to share your successes and frustrations with.

Yoongi wanders through the gallery, the sound of soft music and hushed voices creating a backdrop to his thoughts. The rain outside has left him feeling introspective, and as he takes in the various pieces of art, he feels a strange mix of pride and sadness seeing how far you’ve come.

Each painting tells a story, each one a glimpse into your life over the past five years, a life he wasn’t a part of.

His gaze is drawn to a large canvas on the far wall. The colours are bold and dramatic, the brushstrokes chaotic and full of emotion. As he steps closer, he realizes with a jolt that the scene depicted is achingly familiar: a train station, snow swirling in the air, and two figures standing close together, wrapped in scarves and winter coats.

His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the details. The style is unmistakably expressionist, the exaggerated forms and vibrant colours capturing the raw emotion of that day. The figures are abstract, but he knows them instantly: one is you, and the other is him.

He remembers the way you tucked his scarf into his sweater, the tears that made tracks down your cheeks, and the way you both tried to memorize each other in those final moments. The painting captures all of it, the pain and the love, the sorrow and the hope.

Yoongi feels a lump in his throat as he stares at the piece. It’s a testament to your skill as an artist. He wonders how long you carried the weight of that moment, how many times you revisited it in your mind to create this masterpiece. He’s overwhelmed by a wave of emotions: regret, longing, and a deep, unspoken connection.

The title of the painting, written on a small plaque beside it, reads “Departure.” It’s fitting, he thinks, for the moment it captures, but also for the way it marks the beginning of your separate journeys.

As he stands there, lost in thought, he hears your voice nearby, and for a moment, he simply stands there. Your words meld together and he isn’t hearing much of what you’re saying, just the sound. His heart pounds against his ribs as your laugh — it sparks a memory and adds sound to the ones that were muted — bounces off the walls and around in his head.

He turns and sees you, in a corner, your back to him talking to a taller man, discussing a point of space where you’re standing. The sight of you, so vibrant and alive, sends a mixture of relief and nervousness fluttering around in Yoongi’s tummy.

Gathering his courage, he takes a step forward, then another, until he’s standing just a few feet away. You turn and startle, staring at him like he’s a ghost. There’s a brief moment of surprise — he gets it — and then you blink.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, and turning to the man next to you, you smile gently. “Taehyung...Can you give us a moment?”

The guy looks between you both for a second with a raised brow before he’s gone, walking off to some other part of the gallery. Yoongi’s mind is too occupied taking in the sight of you to wonder what that man’s presence may mean.

“Hi,” he replies, his voice soft and filled with all the words he’s wanted to say for years. Despite this, he doesn’t actually know what to say, he didn’t actually think this far ahead. He glances back at the painting of the train station platform, then back at you. “I saw your painting.”

You follow his gaze and nod, your smile tinged with a hint of sadness. “It was a significant moment for me. For both of us, I think.”

It’s a lot awkward, with him just standing there, not sure what to do with himself. You look the same, though now your hair is styled professionally and not the frizzy, wind swept mess it was when he last saw you.

There’s so much he wants to say but he feel like he doesn’t have enough words, or the right ones, so he takes it easy. “I saw a flyer...in a café. Um... It’s amazing...your work.”

“Thank you,” you say, your eyes reflecting a mixture of pride, nostalgia and a certain sadness. “I didn’t know you’d be here. It’s... good to see you.”

The conversation goes slowly, awkwardly. There are long pauses and nervous laughter, each of you trying to bridge the gap of five years with small talk about your art and his music.

“You’ve done well,” he says, gesturing to the paintings around you both. “I didn’t even know you were into art.”

You smile, the same just barely there sad smile from earlier. “It was something I started after you left. It helped me cope.”

“Oh...” His heart aches at the thought of you turning to art just to fill the void he left behind. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You shake your head and shrug. “We both had our paths to follow. It’s just... life.”

He nods, but the guilt lingers. Life had taken you both in different directions, but he can’t help but wonder what might have been different if he had stayed, or if he had at least tried to stay in touch better.

Min Yoongi is an idiot and he’s always told himself so. He’s an idiot and he sucks at this sort of thing.

As the gallery starts to empty out, Yoongi looks at you, the rain pattering gently against the windows. There’s a part of him that wants to apologize, to make up for all the lost time, but he knows it’s not that simple.

“Do you have time for a coffee?” he asks, hope and uncertainty mingling in his eyes.

Your smile is a little hesitant, but you nod, “Sure.”

You excuse yourself to grab your jacket and an umbrella — you remembered, he smiles privately —, and then you talk to the man from earlier for a minute before Yoongi follows you out of the gallery and onto the wet street.

The walk is quiet, filled with the awkwardness of five years’ worth of missed everything’s, and Yoongi holds tight to the handle of his umbrella. There’s a confidence to your step as you weave your way through the crowd, head straight forward and not looking down at your feet like he remembers.

You’re not the girl he left on that platform five years ago just as he’s not the guy that left you there.

You walk back to the cafe he’d come from, and he realises that you’re probably a regular here. The barista behind the counter greets you with a smile and asks if you’re having your usual. You order a coffee and Yoongi asks the girl behind the counter to reheat the one he bought earlier, and the barista’s eyes dart between you both.

You lead him to a cozy corner table after the order was called, and as you settle in, the conversation starts up slowly again.

“How long have you been in Seoul?” Yoongi asks first, his voice a little hesitant, not sure if he’s allowed to ask.

“Almost three years now,” you reply, looking down at your coffee cup, the tiniest furrow between your brows. “It took a while, but I got settled.”

Yoongi takes a moment to observe you, trying to reconcile the person in front of him with the memories he’s held onto for the past five years. You don’t look much different, your hair’s in an up-do, your cheeks are a little fuller, but that’s as much as he notices.

The silence that rings between you both is louder than the other customers in the cafe. Yoongi can only imagine what this scene looks like to others; two people who are barely looking at each other, like awkward strangers forced to share a space.

His coffee is still hot, and it burns his tongue when he sips at it, but at least it’s given him a distraction. He steals glances at you, watching the way your eyes comb the cafe and avoid his gaze.

Unfortunately, Yoongi is naught but a man, and there’s a nagging sound at the back of his brain. It grows louder until he fidgets, the nerves of his free hand feel like they’re dancing and he takes a breath. He looks down at his coffee cup, glances at you and then back to the cup. Then, he asks a question that made him want to crawl out of his skin.

“So...that guy back at your gallery seemed nice...”

He knows it’s been five years, and a lot can change in that time. As toxic as it may sound, the thought of you moving on with someone else stirs a mix of emotions in him.

He knows he has no right to be upset if you’ve found happiness with someone else. It’s not his business anymore, not after all this time.

Still, the fear is there. He doesn’t want to admit how much it hurts to think of you with someone else. He can’t deny the pang of jealousy at the thought, but he tries his best to ignore it. He has no claim over you. You deserve to be happy, and if you’ve found that with someone, then he’s happy.

He sighs inwardly, pushing the thoughts aside. He wants to focus on the present, on the fact that you’re sitting in front of him right now. Whatever happens, he’s happy to be here, he hopes he can be a part of your life again of you let him, even if it’s only as a friend. He doesn’t want to ruin this, whatever it turns out to be.

You stare at him for a moment and Yoongi can’t tell what you’re thinking, “He is...he’s got an eye for art.”

Yoongi nods slowly, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup. He hums softly, and now it’s his turn to pretend you’re not looking; he finds interest in the light fixtures above.

His next question sits on his tongue trying to pry past his teeth. He feels like a kid trying to find the right moment to ask his parents if he could go play outside. There’s a nervous churning in his tummy that isn’t at all pleasant. How does one ask their ex of five years if they’re seeing someone?

Yoongi imagines they’d just ask, out of curiosity, and get it out of the way. He could play it well. Maybe lean back into his seat and appear more casual before he says the stupid words. Maybe he could stop staring at the lights like a damn moth, and act like a being with a fully developed frontal lobe.

“Are you two...close? Or...you know...” He waves a hand and then lays it on the table. The sound of his ring knocking against it is kind of jarring, but it gives Yoongi an opportunity to look away again.

You make a quiet sound, and Yoongi finally meets your gaze. There’s amusement in your eyes, it’s obvious you’ve figured him out already — he wasn’t exactly being subtle. Which is unfortunate, because now Yoongi could feel embarrassment tapping on his shoulder.

You say nothing of it, even though he knows you want to. He could feel it.

“As close as business partners can be, I suppose.” You say, and Yoongi can see the beginning of a smile as you lift your coffee to hide it.

“Right...Sorry.” Yoongi says sheepishly, though, a weight lifts off his chest. As he looks at you, he notices something that makes his heart skip a beat.

You’re still wearing the necklace he got you all those years ago, the one he won for you at the fair. The twine that the little pendant hangs on looks worn, fraying a bit at some points, but you’re wearing it.

You kept it.

He clears his throat, the words he’s been holding back spilling out. “I’m sorry I lost touch. I got so busy, and then it felt like too much time had passed to reconnect. I lost your contact, and… I didn’t know how to find you again.”

You nod, your fingers brushing over the necklace like you sensed his gaze on it. “It’s okay. Life happened, for both of us.”

“But why didn’t you seek me out when you got to Seoul?” Yoongi asks, his voice soft, devoid of accusation; genuinely curious.

“I thought it would be for the best,” you say, equally as soft, staring into your coffee as though it would give you the words you’re looking for. “So much time had passed, and I didn’t want to disrupt your life. You were doing well.”

You look so sad when you say it that it almost breaks Yoongi’s heart.

“You know I wouldn’t have...” He wouldn’t have turned you away.

“I know, I just...” You sigh, your eyes dart somewhere to his left, and then back at him, “...I really missed you.”

Yoongi wants to reach out and take your hand so he does. Your fingers are warm from the coffee, squeezing his own, and tears beads at your waterline.

“I missed you too.” His gaze is soft and he knows it, but he doesn’t care because its you. You’re still you and he’s still him, and he misses you and the girl he left on that platform.

You’re both still made of the same star. It’s imploded but still glowing, and your necklace pendant catches the above head light.

His finger brushes over your knuckles, he stares at them, the shape and colour and all the little things about them that makes them a part of you. All that with his heart in his throat because he wants to ask something.

“Do you think…” His voice is barely a whisper, as if he’s afraid the wrong volume might shatter whatever delicate thread holds this moment together. “Do you think there’s a chance… that we could try again?”

You stare at him, your eyes wide, and he feels the subtle pressure of your fingers in his. He knows it’s a lot to ask, but the longing, the sense that maybe something beautiful can still be salvaged from the pieces, presses him to keep going.

Hope catches on the glint of your necklace pendant, and he clings to it.

“I don’t expect anything to happen right away. I just… I want to be in your life again, even if we start slow. No pressure, just… what feels right.”

You’re quiet for a moment, and then a soft smile curves your lips, almost as if you’ve been waiting for him to say something like this.

“We could try,” you murmur, the words tentative but filled with the same cautious hope Yoongi feels.

And from there, the pace is unhurried. You both ease into each other’s lives like rivers that find their way back to the same stream.

Some days Yoongi feels like he’s been whacked on the head with a giant stick. Anyone could tell by looking at him, when he’s got that stupid look on his face. Like he’s seen a goddess and she spared him a glance. He feels like he’s dreaming, and the last five years without you seem to blur.

He starts small, a text here and there; good morning and good night. Even if he’s busy he’d keep up with you, except when his work demands his focus. There are some days when you’d disappear, and Yoongi understands when you explain you’ve been in your studio for hours.

Your gallery isn’t far from his work, and as much as he could he’d go see you. He finds himself drawn to small gestures—bringing you lunch or a cup of coffee, or sometimes a sweet he thinks you might like. Each time he steps into the gallery with something for you, he feels a warmth settle in his chest.

It’s an excuse, he knows, to see you smile, to watch you light up at the thoughtfulness of it. And each time you look at him with that gentle, appreciative gaze, he feels his hope grow a little stronger.

You’d tell him all about your creative process, how you’d spin and weave what’s in your head onto a canvas. He’d listen attentively because he’s interested and he owes it to you. All those nights spent burning the midnight oil, steeping in his frustrations; you were there. You’d listen to him rant and cry when things weren’t working out the way he wanted.

He owed you much more than that.

He feels like he has to learn you all over again, which, in a sense, he does. Even if the bases of you are the same, there’s new facets. Little shards that fit into the mirror that reflects you, some pieces are a little dusty and worn with time and others are new and shiny. Yoongi has to take his time cleaning the old ones to see them again, and get used to the new ones that twinkle his eyes.

He invites you to his place for dinner, something simple and easy, and the conversation flows a lot better than it had a month before.

There’s no awkward sentences that cut off somewhere in the middle. Yoongi knows what to do with his hands and he has a better time looking you in the eye now. He feels a lot like he did back then, like a school boy taking his crush to meet his parents. His hands are a little sweaty, but the food is good and your eyes sparkle like they did back then, too.

You seem so sure, like you’re not worried one bit. Like you knew you’d meet him again and you’d be here in this moment; sipping on white wine – something new he’s learned – and chucking over stories set in the past.

The day he let a pet name slip was the day Yoongi wished a chasm would open up and swallow him. He had his excuse ready; the clock’s pushing one in the morning; he’s tired. The truth? It’s so easy to slip back into old ways, like nothing changed at all.

Like a smouldering fire in a hearth. It’s not quite out yet, and if you throw some sticks in there, they’ll catch.

After a while, on some sunny evening, Yoongi invited you to his studio.

“This is where I spend most of my time.” And he means that, letting you into his studio. There’s a blanket tossed haphazardly on the black couch that lines the wall near the door.

There’s day old take away coffee cups that never made it to the bin, cluttered in a designated spot. The bin he meant to empty is overflowing with scraps of paper and crushed takeout containers. That’s as far as the clutter goes. Though, Yoongi’s embarrassed now – he prides himself on keeping tidy. He wasn’t thinking when he asked you over, didn’t expect you to agree either.

So now he’s clearing up his desk and tying a knot on the waste bag. You make yourself comfortable on his couch like you’ve been there before, throwing the blanket over your lap as your eyes dart about to take everything in.

You’re impressed, he could tell by the gleam in your eyes and your little down turned smile. He’s come a long way from his old computer and MIDI.

“Its nice, cosy. Beats camping out in your bedroom.” You smile and Yoongi chuckles, nodding.

“Damn right.” He agrees, but he wouldn’t trade in those days for anything. Truthfully, he’s been here for three days, only going home to shower. Inspiration on an all time high and he’s just been riding the wave, you’ve been his muse for the past month. It isn’t the first time, at moments over the years gone you’d float into his mind like a mirage, and he’d get stuck on you.

He’s grateful for the break, though, there’s nothing much to do and he doesn’t want to bore you with rambling about what he’s working on. So he orders something, and lets a movie play on his laptop.

The clock ticks softly in the corner, its sound nearly drowned out by the hum of the desk lamp — he should really get that replaced. You’re still curled up on his couch despite the hour, the blanket pooled around your legs, your eyes scanning a painting on the wall he doesn’t remember hanging.

“It’s peaceful here,” you say, your voice quiet but steady, like you’re speaking directly to the heart of the room—and to him.

Yoongi glances up from the cluttered desk he’d been half-heartedly straightening; resorting his things because he can’t sit still. He watches the way you seem to belong in his space, your presence settling into the corners he never realized were empty. The faintest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“You think so?” he asks, moving to lean against the edge of the desk. He crosses his arms, the soft light from the lamp catching on the fine lines of his face. “I always thought it was too chaotic.”

You turn your head, your gaze locking onto his. “Chaos can be beautiful. It just takes the right eyes to see it.”

The words settle between you, their weight both gentle and profound. Yoongi feels something inside him shift—a small piece of armour finally cracking and falling away.

He takes a step toward you, his hands slipping into his pockets, his expression tentative. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

You sit up a little straighter, tilting your head. “What is it?”

“Would you…” He hesitates, his fingers brushing against the edge of a USB drive in his pocket—the same drive that holds the tracks he’s been working on for weeks. “Would you let me write something for you? About you?”

Your surprise shows in the slight widening of your eyes, followed quickly by a soft, warm smile. “You already do that, don’t you?”

Yoongi chuckles under his breath, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. “Maybe,” he admits, with a small smile that meant more than he could say. “But this time, I want you to know it’s for you. No hiding it in metaphors or beats no one else understands. Just…you.”

You rise from the couch, the blanket slipping to the side as you close the small distance between you. Standing so close, Yoongi count all the things that make you you.

“Okay,” you say softly, your fingers brushing against his. “But only if you let me paint something for you, too.”

Yoongi takes your hand because he wants to, and his fingers make home in the spaces between yours. It feels like déjà vu and an epiphany all at once: five years ago you were this close and he was saying goodbye. His gloves had holes. Today...he’s saying hello again, and it feels like no time had gone by. And he kisses you now because he didn’t kiss you then, and you sigh into it like you’ve been waiting a lifetime.

Some people say that soulmates are made of the same star, apart of each other, one in the same. Stars don’t live forever, Yoongi found, but they do burn forever.

Tagging: @hoseoksluna @xpeachesncream @amon-rei @allhobbitstoisengard @euphoricfilter @madbutgloriouspond

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