#sure he would pay for it by having to go through whatever she did to them as well to not be suspicious
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maddascanbe-blog · 3 hours ago
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The Department of Unearthly Inhabitation
"Ma'am we understand if you don't want to maintain the property, but if you don't sell it soon, it will be repossessed." Cross told the irritating young lady.
"That castle been in my family for generations!" She insisted. This was false. It was bought by the previous owner's parents as extra storage and was maintained by their son while he attended university.
Looker was fully aware of this fact, as well as the fact that this young irritant had refused to pay the remaining staff. They left, and now no one was handling the property in question.
"You can't just steal my inheritance!" The Lady shouted at them.
Cross sighed. "Ma'am, it's not us who would be repossessed it. You can either make sure someone is living there now, or you'll have a non-living tenant soon enough. Then you'd have to find some Mage to chase whatever it is out!"
With it becoming clear that there was no getting through to this woman, Looker marked 'Would not accept assistance' on the form, and both walked back to their truck.
"I take it things went poorly?" Carrey asked from her position in the drivers seat.
"Shut up." Cross snapped, already at his wits end.
Looker took up the passenger seat, and they started driving.
"Where to?" Carrey asked as they approached a crossroads.
Looker flipped open a leather bound book. "We're meant to investigate the Vastly estate. They think something has moved into the property. Someone went missing 7, so it got bumped up on priority."
As it turns out, things had only worsened.
"We don't understand!" Lord Vastly insisted. "We're very careful, even the farthest reached of the property we keep in top form! There are wards against Fair-folk in the woods and fields to prevent circles from forming. But now two of our staff have vanished without a trace!"
Looker put up a hand, "What path are these people taking? Tell me exactly."
They rode the rest of the way with Cross, bemoaning the incoming heache of paperwork they were sure to meet when they made it back to the office.
At the edge of a forested area, they stopped the truck, and Carrey hopped out.
The second her feet touched the soil, she held up a hand to alert the other two.
"Smell that?" She asked.
"No." Cross said plainly. "You know we can't smell things like you, so fill us in."
Carrey took a deep breath. "Smells like rot."
Cross and Looker exchanged glances.
"Perhaps this day might be interesting after all." Looker suggested.
This wasn't bartering with the Fae to get two wayward souls back.
Carrey grabbed a long iron wire from the back of the truck and made a ring around the truck.
Looker took a few seeds from his pocket and pressed them into the ground. Hypericum bloomed after a moment.
Cross was pulling on his jacket and tossed a bag to his teammates.
"Go, record, call the hunters if need be." He told them sternly as they saundered over to the woods.
"Displaced earth." Carrey announced, pointing past Cross and to the left of the group.
"Smell that, did you?" Cross teased, he adjusted the weight on his back.
True to her word, there was a large mound of dirt piled up on two sides of a hole. As they approached, the other smell she'd mentioned, the rot, became clearer, too.
Looker placed a hand to the earth. "Recent. There's something down there, something that just now was let out."
"I'll get the rope." Carrey turned on her heel and headed back to the van, but Cross was too impatient to wait.
He flicked on his flashlight and jumped down into the pit. "Hello! Department of Unearthly Inhabitation! If there is anyone living or non, please announce your presence!"
They heard silence. Cross's flashlight landed on a decomposing newly dead wearing the employee uniform of the property.
"Looker!" Cross called up, "get down here. We've got a body."
Looker's boots hit the floor as he joined his boss. He pulled on a glove and carefully pried open the corpses mouth. Then, I placed a coin inside.
"That'll keep 'em quiet until we can move them." He assures Cross who was still scanning the cavern.
"Looker-" He said again. Showing another two bodies. One had another uniform, but the other was only bone.
Stepping forward again, Cross's flashlight revealed more and more bodies. All of them were reduced to skeletons and in some places were broken.
"Someone's digging up a Pottersfeild…" Looker realized.
"Yeah." Cross began to move back to the entrance. "Carrey! Pull us up!"
"One second!!" Came the slightly far off reply.
"Cross-" Looker pressed a hand to the floor. "Somethings been moving in here, recently."
His boss did not look happy to hear that. "Carrey! Now!"
"I'm hurrying!" She shouted.
The rustle of bone met Cross' ears as he turned to the darkness around them.
"Cross-" Looker said again.
"I know." The man spat.
"Cross!"
"I Know!"
Bones and earth wre pulling together. Not one body, dozens of bodies, recently unearthed.
An unmarked mass grave that some idiot had decided to dig up!
The rope Carrey had retrieved fell down and Cross shoved Looker to it as the mass opened dozens of shattered jaws and screamed an unholy sound at them.
Cross retrieved a long wide balde from his back. Golden runes came alight along the blade.
The Department of Unearthly Inhabitation could hardly leave their employees unprepared, could they?
Two universal constants of high fantasy living:
If something falls into ruin a necromancer will move in 100% of the time
There is a critical mass of gold that will summon a dragon. If you keep accurate records and stay below it you’ll be fine
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itsa-me-lily · 1 day ago
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I am still tired, but brain is less mush after some lunch. (Can you guess what I had)
Here is other Military Program Spouse (mobile is fighting me to add the link)
It helps to assume here that unless stated otherwise Simon is wearing a medical mask around reader. She’s just like whatever floats your boat my dude
Content warning;
Mention of food, medical devices, scars, cellulite
“Simon whatever your middle name is Riley you better not be looking at my legs.”
Maybe his mum had a point, that women developed eyes in the back of their head. He wasn’t deliberately looking at your legs, but he wasn’t not not looking either. For some reason unbeknownst to him, you had decided that you had to make the biggest batch of soup known to man. Sure the seasons were changing, summer slowly letting go for fall, but it wasn’t as if a chilly wind was rattling at the windows threatening to steal whatever heat existed. It was still relatively balmy, warm enough to have the windows open and enjoy the breeze. Warm enough that having the stove going made the kitchen borderline stuffy, encouraging you to cook in just a loose tank top and shorts that hit mid thigh.
Simon wasn’t a prude, he wasn’t scandalized at seeing the curve of your thighs, or grossed out by the cellulite. Everyone had fucking skin and however you wanted to dress in the comfort of your home you were welcomed to it. But he had eyes and well he was curious. His own body was covered in scars and tattoos that told a myriad of stories. So he looked to see what yours had to say.
Picking at the chicken you had left on the counter he counted the spots that your insulin pods left behind like stars, noticed how you missed a small strip of hair when you were shaving, even the mole that you had on the back of one ankle; they all came together to make up parts of a story about his wife that he was just starting to get.
He was so lost in thought, mechanically putting piece after piece of poached bird into his mouth, barely paying attention to anything besides the action of seeming busy, that he didn’t notice when you turned around, the exasperation in your voice finally catching his attention.
“Seriously? What did I just say?”
Simon wasn’t someone who startled, didn’t jump or hunch his shoulders to his ears. He had spent far to much time sharpening himself as to cut anyone who tried to catch him unaware. He just wasn’t prepared for you to admonish him like that, hands on your hips and looking for him to answer your question.
“What? You said not to look at your legs…I wasn’t lookin’ at them”
Not a lie, but not quite the truth.
“Yeah instead you’re eating your way through them!”
He blinked at you slowly once and then twice, following your gaze down to the plate of chicken leg quarters he was indeed making his way through. At least one looked like it had been pounced on by scavengers.
“You said no lookin’, nothing about no tasting.”
That was most certainly a twitch to your eye. That probably should have been concerning, but honestly Simon was secure enough in his height and size that if you tried to suffocate him he could throw you off. He was a good head taller than you, honestly how much damage could you do? When you pointed your wooden spoon threateningly at his chest it didn’t do much besides remind him of a little old grandma who would wield the same utensil as a weapon.
“You sir, are an asshole. Now go run to a shop and get me one of the pre cooked chickens.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because you’ve eaten half my damn chicken and like hell is my sancocho going to suffer for it.”
“Your what now?”
Yes Simon Riley knew he was being as ass. Yes he also thought that there was a realm of possibility that your upset face and clear murderous intentions were slightly endearing. But only slightly.
“My god damn soup. I swear to god if you fuck this up for me I will find a way to make you suffer the consequences.”
“Alright alright, no need to have a bird over some-heh, bird.”
He didn’t stay to see the double middle fingers you aimed for his back, he didn’t need to. He was pretty sure you were also cursing his name and maker. It wasn’t until the front door shut behind him that your colorful vocabulary was loudly shared with the world. It made him chuckle as he picked up his pace.
Heaven help anyone who got between a woman and her soup.
Edit
I am very passionate about my soup
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princessbellecerise · 3 months ago
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Court Shenanigans
Summary ✩ Missing their father, your children decide it’s a good idea to interrupt him in the middle of court
Warnings ✩ Mentions of pregnancy
Authors Notes ✩ Everyday I cry cause this man isn’t real but at least I have fanfic
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You tried to stop them, you really did.
But being almost nine moons pregnant and having the most swollen feet known to man, it was almost impossible to chase after and keep up with two rowdy tots.
Usually, their nursemaids would have them by now and would be helping to assist you, but Aliza was sick and Joanna was with her family. Both of them would have scolded you for trying to run when you couldn’t even see your feet, but your kids were a mischievous bunch and you had a sinking feeling on where they were headed.
Aemma, the eldest of the two twins, had been complaining all day about not being able to see her father, as Jace had missed out on breakfast and lunch with her in order to hear a few extra petitions.
It seemed as if the Kingdom was more unruly than usual, and Lords had come from all over the realm to plead their cases.
Wanting to be a good King and make sure that he could adhere to all of his subjects, Jace had opted to spend a little extra time on the throne and a less with his family.
This of course didn’t sit well with Aemma, and as her shadow Jaelin followed right on along with her.
Try as you might have, you weren’t fast enough to catch up to them and your protests for them to stop didn’t do much good, either.
Before you could even blink, your twins were flying past the Kingsguard and bursting into the throne room, with little Aemma’s excited shouting making you want to crawl into a hole right there and then.
��Kepa!”
In no time your baby girl ran across the room, interrupting some poor Lord under a pink banner. You thought that he might’ve been from White Harbor, or maybe he was from Maidenpool.
Whatever it was, you didn’t pay much attention as suddenly, all chatter stopped, and you were the center of attention as you wobbled towards Jacaerys and fixed Aemma with a stern glare.
“Aemma! Come back here!” You shouted after her sternly, and thankfully Jaelin was too afraid of your ‘motherly voice’ to get any closer.
He stopped just short of the Iron Throne, choosing to remain by Ser Darklyn’s side rather than follow his sister up the steps. With horror, you realized that Aemma was headed straight to Jacaerys, exclaiming happily as she threw herself in her father’s open arms.
“Kepa!”
She bounced excitedly as Jace pulled her on his lap, looking amused while you struggled to catch your breath.
Running at your size was no joke, and you ached to sit down somewhere and rest. You couldn’t do that though while your two year old twins were causing mayhem.
It was unbefitting of a Queen, you knew that, but desperation had you hiking up your dress, climbing the the steps, and holding your arms out expectantly while Jace chuckled.
“Aemma. It’s time to say goodbye to Kepa and go back to our chambers. Now,” You told her, but that only resulted in the toddler shaking her head and burying herself even deeper into Jacaerys’ arms.
“No! I want to stay with Kepa!” Her defiant little voice shouted, and you winced as a few murmurs echoed through the court.
You were painfully aware that everybody was staring at the scene, which made it even more embarrassing when you reached out again and failed to grab Aemma.
After about the third attempt to pull her away with no avail, your husband seemed to finally take pity on you and sighed.
“It’s alright my love. She can stay,” Jacaerys said, and upon hearing this Aemma beamed. “It’ll be her seat one day after all. Let her gain some experience; even if it is during the middle of a petition.”
You gave him an apologetic look, and you made a mental note to apologize to Lord…well, whoever you were currently interrupting. You had to admit, the sight of Aemma babbling broken phrases to Jace while she tried to grab his crown was adorable.
You sighed reluctantly.
“Alright,” You said, willing to leave Aemma where she was. At the very least you could persuade Jaelin to follow you and take him away, but as you turned to go back down the stairs you suddenly paused.
Had there always been that many, you wondered?
You hadn’t really paid attention that much, but now that your feet were practically screaming at you to sit down, the idea of going down so many steps didn’t seem so appealing.
Of course, you could’ve just asked one of the Kingsguard to help you down, but you didn’t want to be a bother—as silly as it sounded. You also didn’t want to risk your knees giving out and falling, either.
You were in a dilemma, but before you could even decide, Jace did it for you. Your husband, ever attentive, noticed your hesitation and immediately got up.
“Here, my love. Why don’t you rest and I’ll stand for now,” He suggested.
Even more whispers broke out at this. What Jacaerys was proposing was sweet, but it had never happened before and the idea of the Queen sitting on the throne in the presence of the King was…well it was simply unheard of.
You were sure a few people would call the action scandalous, but at the moment though, you didn’t really care what they thought. Your feet were aching and you needed a place to sit down before your knees decided where for you, so you nodded and accepted his offer.
“Thank you, my love.”
You sighed in relief as you sat on the throne. Albeit, it wasn’t the most comfortable of seats with all the swords and points, and you would’ve much rather been in your cushioned chair in your chambers, but it was better than nothing and the pressure on your feet was gone.
Nodding his head, Jacaerys gave you a small kiss on the side of your head and then he stood with Aemma in his arms, and gestured for Lord whoever to keep speaking.
Had you not been out of breath, you would have laughed at his face and the face of many others as they not only witnessed their King give the most powerful seat in the realm to his pregnant wife, but also witnessed him stand up while bouncing his baby daughter in his arms.
It was an unusual sight, but an adorable one that you cherished.
Motioning to Ser Darklyn to bring Jaelin up so that your family would complete, you smiled in content and Jacaerys once again motioned for the man who had been interrupted to continue his petition.
“Lord Mooton. Please, do continue,” He said with a large smile.
You giggled.
Ah, so that was his name.
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zreamy · 11 months ago
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i'll love you forever
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pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader
summary: you were sunghoon's first everything; first friend, first love, and first heartbreak. after years of quietly crushing on you, he was finally ready to confess. so ready to confess, that he told his parents the two of you were already dating! it was an easy enough lie to keep up and he kept it up for months, what could possibly go wrong? he thought. little did he know, you would have a falling out and stop talking for months.. and then, you'd both get invited to spend a week at home with his parents, who still believe you're his girlfriend.
genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, childhood best friends to lovers, fake dating
warnings: minors dni, fake dating is pretty mild (sorry), she kinda doesn’t rate him at the start, these two kind of exist in a vacuum a little bit idk i had a self-enforced word count to stick to and broke it.. (im within the 10% allowance !), sunghoon in a vest, sunghoon arms, sunghoon
word count: 21,858
playlist: click here.. (for my non-spotify babes, the main song is light by wave to earth (which for some reason i put last.. whatever))
author's note: for silly @asahicore. happy birthday pooks i hope it's amazing and that u enjoy reading this when u have the time !!! LOL (lots of love) also im never writing without telling you things again this was so absurd.
to everyone else.. ok happy reading also emma did not beta read this so im sure it's missing its charm .. anyway it's for emma not you 😭 anyway i hope u enjoy regardless and lmk ur thoughts! omg this is the first fic im nervous about posting.......... please enjoy or else.
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In the three years since Park Sunghoon moved away for university, he’d been doing a pretty good job of going home to see his parents. They’d welcome their baby back to the nest with open arms and wide grins. With a rehearsed level of indifference, his younger sister, Yeji, would say, “Oh, I didn’t know you were coming home this weekend.” when she saw him at the dinner table. Sunghoon pretended to only be marginally hurt by this. 
In the last three months, he hasn’t so much as sent a text to his parents. 
Or to you. 
Ignoring texts from his mother is devastating. Between classes, he watches as, “Hi, sweetie, I love you 😍,” turns into, “Missing you, honey, know you must be busy but spare some time for your old mummy, no?” which turns into, “Getting really worried now, are you doing okay? Has something happened with YN? Talk to me, I love you, my baby boy!” 
Ignoring texts from you is easy because texts from you never come. 
Sitting at the end of his bed, Sunghoon rereads a text his mother sent a few minutes ago: Please talk to me, son. Really worried and YN isn’t answering calls either. What’s going on with you two?
When he leaves his room, he finds Jake lying on the couch, and with his keys in hand, Sunghoon says, “I’m going home.” 
And the drive is great! At least, he tells his mum it is. In truth, the drive home without you was nearly impossible. Your ever-expanding home time playlist buzzed through the speakers in his car, but without you there to screech along to the songs, it wasn’t the same. He felt your absence the most when he stopped to get petrol and you weren’t there behind him struggling to carry enough snacks to feed a small family without offering to pay. 
The look of worry on his mum’s face stirs a pit in his stomach. “Why are you so quiet these days? God, you look so tired,” she says, frowning. “Is it school? Or something with YN? It’s not like her not to text back.” Her brows crease as she whispers the word unless. She pulls him into a hug, her chin resting perfectly on his shoulder, and her comforting hand strokes the hair on the back of his head. “Breakups are never easy, honey. I’m so sorry, I know how much you love her.” 
Breakups are never easy. The sentence hangs heavy over his head. 
Whether she knows it or not, she’s handed him a get-out-of-jail-free card, the opportunity to set things straight, to end this mess once and for all. No further questions, and most importantly, no more lies. 
For the first time since he left your flat three months ago, Sunghoon lets himself cry. He’d imagined this moment countless times, his first cry since you ended things. In his mind, it was always intense. Today, as it happens, only a few salty tears leak from his eyes, spilling onto the cuff of his sleeve, darkening the blue cotton in tiny indigo splotches. 
“We didn’t break up,” he says in a small voice—for some reason. “I’m just having a hard time.” Neither statement is technically untrue, but the words taste rotten in his mouth.
The tightening grip of his mum’s arms around his body is what brings on the harsh, shoulder-racking sobs he’d been anticipating. For a while, they stand like this, Sunghoon weeping into his mum’s cardigan until she sends him upstairs to lie down, promising a cup of tea that never comes. 
His childhood bedroom is chilly, so he changes into clothes he left behind and climbs into bed, pulling his duvet up to his chin. He turns his head to look at the walls and the room around him, everything is exactly where he left it in the summer. It should be comforting, but it’s weird to be home without you. 
There are photos of you and him everywhere, growing up and around each other through different stages of life. The two of you together during the summer your family moved in next door, you wore glasses back then and were the first friend he’d made in his life. Sunbathing and sharing earphones at the beach, listening to music together on your iPod classic. Sunghoon in thick glasses with a stiff smile and your arm around him on the first day of high school. Wide grins at the start of this summer, the last time things were okay between you. 
Overwhelmed, he stares up at the ceiling, only realising he’s crying when a hot tear slips from his eyes to tickle his ear. Because Sunghoon likes to upset himself, he screws his eyes shut and thinks about the night before you stopped talking. 
Though he didn’t know it at the time, you’d left Yeonjun’s place to sit with him in a tiny restaurant on campus, the one you’d only visit to toast to each other’s heartbreaks. It had become a ritual — ever since your first year boyfriend dumped you after two weeks — to cry as much as you wanted and drink as much soju as your bodies could handle before stumbling back to your apartments. 
Having spent years suffering from an unrequited crush on his best friend, Sunghoon was always the one to comfort you. But that night was different; you were there to comfort him. It was easy enough to play the part of ‘boy whose crush likes someone else’ because he spent your entire friendship in that role. He’d had no problem accepting his fate, but his composure started to slip when you met Yeonjun. It was the first time you’d dated someone who Sunghoon had reason to be jealous of. In every way, Yeonjun was better than him—taller, funnier, hotter. Sunghoon knew he didn’t stand a chance. He took it personally, you liking Yeonjun instead of him, and let his jealousy consume him from the inside out. 
This jealousy led him to start telling you about Minjeong—lying to you about Minjeong, and his feelings for her. She was a girl from a college out of town that he saw on his Instagram Explore page. He followed her by accident, and by some stroke of luck, she followed back. Sunghoon didn’t really have feelings for her — he didn’t even know her — but she was a girl that you didn’t know, so you wouldn’t be able to meddle. 
It only took a few weeks for Sunghoon to become so upset about your relationship that he couldn’t hide his emotions anymore. So, in a fit of tears, he told you over the phone that things ended badly with Minjeong, and he was in urgent need of a soju ceremony. 
But the night was missing its usual comforts.
It was strange to be the one crying, to see you looking put together and ordering the food. To see you pouring the drinks and raising your glass to propose a toast to ‘Hoonie’s first heartbreak’. You were driving that night, so you only had a tiny sip of soju and let him drink as much as he needed, the way he always did for you, at the same table, in the same restaurant for years. 
Hours later, in your car, you entertained his drunken rambles, though he remembers how your lips were set into a frown that he wanted to kiss away while you gripped the steering wheel like you thought it would run from you. Sunghoon was more drunk than he’d been in a while, drunk enough to let you sling his arm over your shoulders and keep him upright until you reached his flat. 
The voices coming from Yeji’s room disrupt the memory. He’s thankful.
“Your brother’s going through something, so be nice to him this weekend.” His mother’s voice is her version of hushed—a loud whisper. 
Yeji’s response is harder to make out, but he doesn’t miss the way their mum says, “I mean it, missy.” 
A dramatic sigh rumbles through Yeji as she barges into his room without knocking. Sunghoon sits up, feeling an ache in his back and crossing his legs. 
“Mum told me to lay off you today, which is fine, but before I do, I need to tell you something.” 
Yeji pushes the door shut behind her, and the open window makes it slam, both of them flinching from the sudden noise. She pulls her hair out of a silk scrunchie and throws herself on the floor. A pang of irritation forms in his chest, knowing that he could immediately find the empty hanger in his wardrobe where the shirt she’s wearing used to live. 
“I hate you and your perfect golden boy image, Hoon. Would it kill you to fail a class for once? I don’t know how I’m supposed to carry on your legacy.” She’s looking up at him, her chin in her hands and irritation written in the crease between her thick brows. 
It’s impossible to know if it’s because of Yeji’s complete lack of boundaries or the fact that her ‘perfect, golden boy’ big brother is on track to fail three out of three classes and get cut from the hockey team, but Sunghoon immediately bursts into tears. 
“Oh, uh.. I’m sorry?” Yeji offers. “I was kidding if that helps.” 
“I’m alright, it’s okay.” The tears don’t stop stinging his eyes. “Why do you want me to change everything about myself?” 
With a frown, Yeji pours out her frustration and mild resentment. She doesn’t understand how Sunghoon effortlessly conquers every aspect of life while she struggles. Neither do their parents, who had been baffled by her plummeting grades since she moved to boarding school, especially when Sunghoon’s academic performance has only soared since he left for university. The weight of this perceived injustice pulls Sunghoon’s shoulders down with guilt as she talks about the expectations he has inadvertently set for her. 
“But other than that, I’m good.” She shrugs, sitting with her legs out, and leaning back on her palms. “How’s YN?” she asks. It’s clear from the brightness in her voice that she thinks she’s helping. 
Sunghoon cries again. 
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Back on campus, he’s trying to scrape together what’s left of his academic career with the help of two of the smartest guys he knows, and their friend Jay. Though the word ‘friend’ feels a little strong at the moment given the way Jay’s goading him. 
Sunghoon rolls his eyes, sitting back in his seat. “There’s nothing you can do that I can’t,” he says, meaning every word. 
Jay scoffs, shrugging and raising his brow in a way that, over the years, Sunghoon knows to interpret as his ‘about to say something ridiculous’ look. “Pretty sure I could call YN right now, and she’d answer.” 
There’s a pit in Sunghoon’s stomach as Heeseung turns his head in the other direction like he’s been slapped, trembling with stifled laughter. At least Jake doesn’t hide his amusement, throwing his head back in a fit of giggles that draw nasty looks from the other students in the library. Sunghoon doesn’t waste his energy trying to argue because Jay’s right.
Now composed, Heeseung turns back to the table, flipping through some of Sunghoon’s course materials to find whatever his class was doing in class that week. The English Literature class he’s taking — The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway — is the same class he had to send a million emails over the summer to get enrolled in, but it’s the same one Heeseung aced two years ago. Lucky for him none of the boys seem to be in the mood to make fun of him for trying so hard to have a class in common with you, and then practically failing out of it before the term had started properly.
“This class is, like, beyond easy, dude.” Heeseung pauses to sniffle and twist the stud in his ear. “Everyone in my class aced it. How are you doing so badly already?” 
“I only took it because YN thought it’d be fun if we had a class together, but.. I kind of haven’t been going since we stopped talking.” Sunghoon shrugs, pretending to be unaffected. 
As if the mere mention of your name has some sort of summoning power, like saying Biggie Smalls in the mirror three times, you appear in his eye line, rounding the corner with a furious stride. Your demeanour crumbles when Jay waves at you, and you grin, waving back, but as soon as you look Sunghoon in the eye again, the rage comes back, and you smack a hand on the table when you reach it, leaning over to him. 
“Sunghoon, a word?” you ask.
He thinks you’re asking, but it’s hard to tell with the way you set your jaw afterwards, and the way the warmth of your signature vanilla scent hits him hard. Dazed, Sunghoon lifts a hand, pointing at himself. “Me?” 
“Does anyone else at the table answer to Sunghoon?” 
“Okay,” he says, somewhat pathetically, nudging Jay for laughing at him. 
As slowly as possible, Sunghoon pushes his chair from the table and stands up, following you to the corner of the references section where only anthropology students in scratchy thrift store knits, and Jay, come to check out encyclopaedias by volume. You look good, save for the rage written all over your face—which, honestly, Sunghoon thinks he likes.
Sunghoon isn’t sure what to expect, so he says, “Hey.” He’s being cautious, waiting a moment to gauge your reaction. “What’s gooooood?” His cheeks burn as soon as he closes his mouth around the vowel, but you laugh. You laugh, and it’s beautiful and happy, and you’re laughing because of him—or at him, but he’s glad either way. 
Annoyance quickly clears all traces of amusement on your face. “Were you ever going to tell me we’re spending next week at Mum and Dad’s?” you ask. 
Sunghoon gasps dramatically, clicking his fingers. “I knew there was something I’ve been meaning to do.” 
His attempt at lightening the mood falls flat, and you only nudge his shoulder gently, sighing. “Can you be serious? For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me?” You’re frowning, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at your feet. “It’s not fair, Sunghoon. For you to keep saying things—making plans involving me and then acting like I’m the bad guy when I turn you down.” 
“I don’t think you’re the bad guy at all,” Sunghoon admits. “If anyone is in the wrong, it’s me, I guess.”
You scoff, looking at him like you hate him. “You guess? Are you serious?” You look furious, but you sound hurt and Sunghoon hates it. Hates himself. “I can’t have this conversation with you right now. Tell mum I’m sick, and it’s contagious.” You roll your eyes and walk away, leaving Sunghoon alone with his thoughts and judgemental stares from students in crochet scarves so long they graze the floor. 
He sighs, slumping against the wall. How does he keep getting it wrong with you? 
Back at the table, Sunghoon manages to act like he’s not falling apart and makes some serious headway on his missing assignments with Heeseung’s help before they call it a day as the sun starts to set. 
When he gets home, he lies down on his bedroom floor, spending hours poring over the conversation you had. Over the minute changes in your facial expression, the tone of your voice, and the endless list of things he should have done, rather than watch you walk away. 
The moment feels familiar, both identical to and worlds apart from what happened after you left three months ago. When he managed to scrape the last shreds of his dignity from the kitchen table, he dragged his feet to his room and lay down like he is now, face to the rug. That day, he left his door open and lay so still that Jake thought he was dead. Sunghoon remembers wishing he had been. 
For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me? The words run on a loop in his mind, over and over, until he can’t remember the order of the sentence or where you put emphasis. They’re cutting all the same. 
Sunghoon sighs into the itchy fibres of his black rug before rolling onto his back. In the diminishing purple light of the setting sun. he looks at the walls of his room. At the Fleetwood Mac poster, he stole from Jay when they moved out of their first year dorm, that curls away from the wall towards the ceiling—a diagonal strip of shiny tape being the only indication of the otherwise invisible tear through the face of Stevie Nicks. 
He’s glad when his phone rings, cutting through the quiet, though the sight of your name and the anatomical heart emoji next to it only dampens his spirit. Reluctantly, Sunghoon answers the phone, holding it to his ear. 
“I just got off the phone with Dad..” You trail off. Tangible silence follows, so thick it weighs on his chest. “I’ll go home with you.” 
“You will?” 
“Yes. Goodbye.” 
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Sunghoon reaches your flat at five in the evening. You don’t smile when you open the door for him, nor do you invite him in. Instead, you dump your bag at your feet and he cringes, looking from the floor to you. You’re aggressively beautiful and cosy-looking as you pull a jacket over the sweater you wore that night. Sunghoon’s heart aches in his chest and he wonders if you even realise. Suddenly, the memory of the last thing you said the morning after hits him like a truck: Then let’s not be friends at all. 
A familiar weight lands on his shoulder—your hand. Concern lines your eyes as you ask if he’s okay. 
With a lump in his throat, Sunghoon nods. 
In the discomfort of his car, the two of you sit in silence while he starts the drive home. 
“How’s Yeonjun,” he asks, eyes flicking towards you but regretting it immediately when he sees how you clench your jaw. 
“No,” you say simply, shaking your head. “You don’t get to ask me about him.” 
These are the only words you exchange until Sunghoon stops for petrol. He has enough fuel for the rest of the journey, but he feels like dying and thinks the fresh air might quell his thoughts of running his car off the road. Like always, the two of you get out and head into the kiosk, where he follows you wordlessly through the aisles, watching you debate on snack choices before settling on the same things you always get. Sunghoon pays for your snacks and you roll your eyes but don’t protest, mumbling thanks as you take them into your arms, leading the way back outside.
He knows he needs to tell you before you reach the house, but he’s not entirely sure how to say it—so he just does. “My, uh.. my parents think we’re dating.”
You stop so suddenly in front of him that he almost bumps into you. Stepping around you, Sunghoon keeps walking. 
Over the top of his car, he watches your face cycle through all five stages of grief until anger comes back around in the loop as you scoff. “Why do they think that?” Your face is devoid of expression now, the blankness over your features dragging a sharp chill over his spine. 
He stares blankly at you, processing. “Because I told them we’re dating,” he mumbles. 
“Why did you.. do that?” You tilt your head, eyes pressing shut in a long blink. “What are you even talking about? Why did you.. What?” 
A thin layer of sweat coats his palms despite the cold. Why did he do that? “We can stage a breakup during the trip or say we broke up right now,” Sunghoon offers. “Just one night, YN, please.” 
The wind whistles by, ruffling your hair and jacket that you hug tightly to your chest. Behind you, Sunghoon takes note of the group of girls standing by the pumps, all five of them jerking their heads abruptly when they notice him watching, suddenly finding interest in the scattered litter and flickering halogen bulbs in the steel canopy over their heads. 
You’re staring when he looks back at you, nostrils twitching with a sniffle before you sigh. “Or we could say that you’re a liar and end things there,” you say. “Or better yet, you go down there on your own and tell them the truth.”
Sunghoon’s gaze drops, his thoughts racing in his mind. He knows you’re right. At some point, his parents will have to find out, and it’d be better for them to find out now. Sunghoon sighs, nodding. “Alright,” he concedes. “I’ll take you back.”
An angry laugh comes out of you as you shake your head. “No need, I’ll walk.” 
The station you’re at is neatly nestled in the middle of nowhere, on a road so narrow he’s not even sure it has a pavement. You’re halfway through the three-hour drive, so there’s no telling how long the walk would be, never mind the fact that the sun is already setting and it’s deep enough into October for the wind to sting. 
“From here?” he asks, incredulous. 
“Yes, open the boot so I can get my bag.” 
Sunghoon can only bring himself to say your name, a desperate whisper. 
“Open the boot.”
He repeats your name as if it’ll make a difference, he’s pleading with you, begging—though he doesn’t know for what. 
You go to the back of his car where Sunghoon joins you, a pit in his stomach when you step away. With misty eyes, you look up at him and his heart breaks. “Please.”
Sunghoon knows you well enough to know that you’re not actually going to attempt the walk home but also knows that you won’t back down if he keeps challenging you. He nods, opening the boot for you and getting into the driver’s seat—your move. 
You stand there, unmoving, and long enough passes that he thinks you’ll actually leave. The boot closes softly and you join him in the passenger seat. You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “Let’s just get this over with.” 
For the rest of the journey, you sit in silence as Sunghoon briefs you on the relationship, fighting a smile as he thinks about being your boyfriend—even if only for a night. You scoff when he ‘reminds’ you that you’ve been together for four months now and the only reason you haven’t been able to come home recently is that your schedules don’t match up very well anymore—which couldn’t be further from the truth as, before term started, you went out to celebrate the fact that your class schedules couldn’t be more suited for seeing each other. 
Finally, at Sunghoon’s childhood home, the two of you smile and laugh for his parents before going to bed. Your relationship has only made his mother more averse to the idea of you sharing a room under her roof than she had been when you were younger. He’s relieved about this, and in the solitude of his bedroom, he lies on the duvet of his twin bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about the last few hours. 
With his parents, you’d sat up in the living room watching TV. They sat on the couch together, his mum nestled in his dad’s side, while you two sat on the couch opposite, mirroring their position. If your complete stiffness was anything to go by, you were less than comfortable with his arm around you and Sunghoon felt terrible for begging you to go along with this. It was after midnight when you all went upstairs and you let him kiss your forehead before all but slamming the door to the guest room in his face. His heart twirled and his mum beamed at him before saying goodnight again. 
Now, at 3 a.m. he can’t sleep. Flinching at the knock on his door, he furrows his brows and goes to open it. It’s you. Standing there with your hair scraped away from your face in one of his t-shirts. Your eyes are red, brimmed with tears as you step into his room and sit on his bed. 
He closes the door softly, heart aching at the sight of you so upset, and when he sits next to you, his heart tears apart because you move over, putting a distance between you. It falls out of his chest onto the floor when he realises you’re not wearing your necklace. 
Sunghoon suspected you might have stopped wearing it, it only made sense that if you didn’t want him, you wouldn’t want the necklace he bought for you either, but at least earlier, your sweatshirt sat so high he couldn’t see if you had it on or not. 
It was a gift for your sixteenth birthday, after your first heartbreak. He was so upset and angry that you let some loser hurt you that way, upset and angry that someone could be loved by you and fuck it up. Sunghoon was inspired by Jay, who’d gotten a pretty necklace for his girlfriend, and talked about her cute reaction for weeks, how happy she was to have a piece of him with her all the time. It was a locket, with a picture of Jay in one side and a picture of her in the other so the pictures would kiss when she wore it. 
While at the jewellers with Jake, Sunghoon thought something like that might be a bit much for the two of you and eventually picked out an equally pretty piece with his first initial on it. He wrote a corny note to put in the box, something about how ‘boys come and go but Sunghoon is forever’ and gave it to you with trembling hands a few nights later—it was the first time he ever made you cry. Immediately, he thought he’d done something wrong and was ready to snatch the box and run back to the jewellers (even though he trashed the receipt). You hugged him and told him you loved him. Sunghoon’s been riding that high ever since. 
Until tonight at least. 
“Are you okay?” he whispers. 
“I’ll do it, Hoon.” Your eyes lift from the floor to meet his gaze. “For as long as you need me to, I’ll pretend.”
As soon as the words leave your mouth, Sunghoon feels lighter, an unbearable weight slipping from his shoulders. You haven’t called him ‘Hoon’ in ages, and he can’t tell if you’ve said it out of vulnerability, or even noticed that you’ve said it at all, but it warms his heart nonetheless. However, he’s not fully at ease, still curious about your sudden change of heart and why you’re crying. 
“What happened?”
You pull him into a hug, and his eyes bulge out of his head. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, the words muffled by the skin at the base of his neck. 
For as long as he’s known you, you’ve smelled like vanilla, a sweet warmth that grounds him. Yet it’s only after these months apart that he’s able to put a name to the sensation: home. The realisation of how much he’s missed this feeling, missed you, floods him with a rush of emotion so overwhelming he can’t find the words to press the issue. A moment passes before he remembers to hug you back, his arms finally wrapping around you, pulling you close, and you sink into his hold. Months ago, he would have kissed the top of your head and mumbled reassurance into your hair, but tonight, Sunghoon settles for stroking the back of your head and hopes it’s enough. 
“You can talk to me, you know? You can always talk to me.”
A heavy silence follows, sharp as a dagger—scraping his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge and lodging itself between his shoulder blades. Sunghoon’s breath hitches in his throat when you cling onto him even tighter, shifting so close you’ve had to settle in his lap. His heart races in his chest, pounding a rhythm so loud it fills the room. 
Finally, you speak, assuring him that you know and that you’re okay. At this, Sunghoon holds you as tight as he can, and neither of you speaks for the rest of the night. You fall asleep like this, in his arms, so deeply that you don’t even stir when he lies down. 
Rubbing your back, he watches the clock on his nightstand, the piercing green LED digits cycling through two whole hours right before his stinging eyes until you wake up. Sunghoon presses his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep when you kiss his cheek and leave his room. 
For the entire morning, you stay in your room, and although Sunghoon is concerned, he decides not to bother you. In the afternoon, he sits at the dining table with his mum, listening as she talks about work. When she asks him, he gets up to make a cup of tea for her. It’s at that moment when you finally come downstairs, looking so effortlessly pretty. Your hair is still damp from the shower, and you’re bundled up in one of his old sweatshirts. There’s a bright grin on your face that leaves his heart thudding. 
“Baby!” you squeal when you see him, charging towards him and wrapping your arms around him from behind. “Good morning.” Your words are muffled against the back of his t-shirt, and the four-letter word, and the sugar coating it, make his cheeks burn. 
“It’s great to see you too, YN,” his mum says with a smile. “My night was amazing; I slept very well and had no dreams.” 
You let go of Sunghoon and walk over to the table, kissing his mum on the cheek and wishing her a good morning as well. “Sorry, mum, how are you?” 
His mother doesn’t seem to have the heart to correct you either, allowing your 3 p.m. ‘good morning’ to go unnoticed. 
Sunghoon carefully fills both mugs to the brim and, with extra caution, carries them to the table. He places a steaming cup of peppermint tea in front of his mum and a milky coffee in front of you. A warm smile spreads across your face as you mouth a ‘thank you’, and his knees turn to jelly. 
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The next day, after eating an early dinner with his parents at the table, the four of you go out on a walk along the bike path you used to take for school. His parents have gone ahead, not intentionally, but because Sunghoon can’t stop you from dragging your feet. 
As with most things in the town where you grew up, nothing about the trail has changed. The leaves are yellowing in standard form for the season, and crunching under his feet with each step he takes. The only foreign experience is the silence that you’re determined to uphold. Everything Sunghoon says to you is met with either a hum, a nod, or no acknowledgement at all. At this point, he feels like he could drop dead at your side and the most you’d do is step over his body like a fallen branch. 
After letting you go ahead, the weathered slats of the wooden footbridge sag in the middle under his tread. It’s been like this for as long as he can remember and he wonders how nothing has been done about it. The stream rushes under it, loud and unruly, the smell of wet grass both comforting and suffocating as you look over the railing. It’s like something from a postcard, the low-hanging branches sweeping back and forth under the breeze, the grass lush and green around the path, murky water thrashing against the mud and rocks underneath with you in the middle of the frame, peering over the edge.
You keep walking when Sunghoon approaches, leaving him alone on the creaky bridge with nothing but the ache in his chest. He looks up, staring at the grey clouds in the sky through the gaps in the leaves, and sighs. 
Eventually, he catches up with you, grabbing your hand and locking his fingers with yours when his parents slow down. You stiffen, looking up at him with cut eyes and a creased brow. “What are you doing?”
Sunghoon matches your clipped tone. “Holding my girlfriend’s hand.” 
“No one’s looking, boyfriend.”
“You think my parents aren’t going to wonder why we’re lagging behind?” 
A scoff—your fingers remain defiantly stiff. “Do you think your parents are going to care whether or not we’re holding hands?” 
“My mum might after the show you put on yesterday afternoon, baby.” Bitterness covers the word like a blanket, a stark departure from how you said it. 
A long sigh rumbles its way out of you before you fix your lips into a strained grin. “Sorry, sweetheart, this is my first time pretending to be in love.” 
As your words hang in the air, Sunghoon’s emotions brew like a storm within him. Frustration gnaws at his patience. All hopes for a smooth week are dashed, though determination simmers in his chest with a strong resolve to make this work, to fix your relationship. It doesn’t stop the sharp pang of hurt piercing his stomach—he knows you don’t feel the same way, he knows you’re faking, but the word ‘pretending’ hits him like a truck anyway. 
“We held hands all the time when we were friends,” he points out.
Your smile drops immediately, hurt flashing behind your eyes. “Yeah, and now we’re not.” 
If there was a competition for who could hurt Sunghoon’s feelings the most, you’d be a shoo-in for first place. With distinction. 
“Exactly!” he says, feeling the sting of his own words. “Because now we’re dating.”
At the sight of his mum turning around, you switch up in an instant. Lock your fingers with his, wrapping an arm around his bicep, leaning into him, giggling. It’s forced but his parents are far enough away that all that matters is the curve of your lips.
“You two okay back there?” she asks. 
“Perfect! I feel like a kid again!” you call back, beaming up at Sunghoon in a way that makes his stomach flutter even though it doesn’t meet your eyes. 
The two of you don’t talk at all when you get home, with you hugging his parents goodnight and running up the stairs. 
“She’s not feeling too well,” he explains, nodding when his dad tells him to make you some tea. 
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His parents spend the whole day at work, and you spend the whole day following him around like a shadow until the evening when they return. He doesn’t pretend not to like it.
Sunghoon helps you make dinner, turning leftover rice into fried rice with the help of some eggs and vegetables. It’s nice moving around the kitchen with you, watching you scramble eggs in his t-shirt and bump his hip with a playful frown when he eats some of the peppers you’re chopping. 
His parents watch from the table, cooing over the two of you and he does his best to fight the blush forming on his cheeks and neck. Embarrassed, he hugs you from behind, hiding his face in your neck—the scent of your coconut conditioner mixing with your vanilla perfume doesn’t do anything to stop the flush. 
Over a bottle of wine, the four of you eat together at the table, swapping stories about your days. Sunghoon tries to hide his surprise as you lie about the time you spent at the play park by your primary school, competing for height on the swings and spinning on the roundabout until you couldn’t stand up. You grin at him, and it meets your eyes as you hold his hand under the table, and kiss his cheek.
After eating, his parents head upstairs, leaving to clean up together. You hum a song he’s never heard as you load the dishwasher, carefully placing the plates and cutlery in the rack, shaking your head when he hands you the glasses you’d used. 
“Leave ours,” you say. “If you want.” 
Sunghoon nods, putting them back on the table, where you sit in the seat across from the one he was sitting in. He sits too, staying quiet rather than saying the wrong thing. You don’t speak either. It’s reminiscent of the past—the hours you’d spend in the same room, only speaking to share a funny post you’d come across or to ask if you were hungry. 
His eyes track your movements—reaching for the half-empty bottle on the table to pour yourself another glass, filling it to the brim. Before putting it down, you offer him some, filling his glass too when he nods. The three glasses of wine he’s already had must be the reason he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand, run his thumb over the soft skin on the back of it. 
Sunghoon doesn’t know why you’ve been so nice to him all day or why it makes his chest hurt. 
“You know you don’t have to be nice to me when we’re alone, right?” The words come out before he can stop them.
Over the top of your glass, your brows knit together. A sound of confusion, a low hum, comes from your throat as you try to finish your sip. “What?” you ask finally. 
“I only asked you to do this because of my parents, you know? You don’t have to sit or talk with me when they’re not around.” 
Sunghoon’s known you long enough to recognise the look that flashes across your face. The way your eyes narrow and your brows tug together, the little pout that sets on your lips before you speak; you’re hurt.
“Why can’t I just be nice to you because it’s the right thing to do?” 
Because it hurts, is what he wants to say. He wants to cry, to beg you to forget everything he said that day. “Because I don’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than I already have.” Is what he settles for. 
Your face softens. “I don’t feel uncomfortable around you, Hoon. We were best friends for ages, I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable.” You pause to take a gulp of wine. “Why can’t I just want to be nice to you?” 
Sunghoon has to chew on his cheek to distract himself from how much your word choice stings. The implications of were and all of your past tense. “I’m sorry,” he says. 
“What for?” 
“Everything.” 
There’s a sadness in the way you run your fingers on the base of your glass. The way you chew on your lip, how your hair falls when you tilt your head and how it moves when you shake it. “It’s not your fault,” you say. “I don’t know anyone who would choose to have unrequited feelings for their best friend.” 
Wow, he thinks. You’re on a roll. Sunghoon wonders if you’re meticulously choosing your phrasing to upset him. Wonders why you feel the need to remind him that his feelings aren’t reciprocated as if he didn’t live through and spend hours reliving the day he confessed. 
“But I didn’t have to tell you about it. It was unfair of me to spring that on you when I knew about Yeonjun.” 
“Did you.. did you think I was going to leave him for you?” 
“Maybe?” Sunghoon chews on his lip—he has no idea what he thought would happen. “I think I thought I loved you enough for both of us, that you might play the part for fun or out of curiosity, and.. I don’t know, just learn to love me.”
“Hoon,” you whisper, frowning. “How could you even think about settling for something like that?” 
Sunghoon shrugs. “It’s not settling if it’s you.” 
Silence takes a seat at the table after he speaks, interrupted only by the ticking clock on the wall—a glittery mess of scrapbooking paper and washi tape layered over each other that Yeji had decorated at summer camp years ago. You’re picking at your fingernails, letting flecks of black polish fall to the table, stark against the varnished oak. 
“I know it’s not my place to ask,” Sunghoon starts after a while, hesitant and only continuing when you nod. “But what did Yeonjun say when you told him? About.. everything?” 
You take a long sip from your glass and sit quietly for so long that he thinks you’re not going to answer him—he doesn’t blame you. 
“I didn’t.” 
He waits for you to elaborate. You don’t. 
Sunghoon nods slowly, deciding not to ask any follow-up questions. Instead, he takes another drink, scrunching his nose at the bitter taste. “He didn’t ask why we stopped hanging out?” he blurts out.
“I told him we fell out but I didn’t say why.” You shrug, but your posture is stiff. 
“Where did you tell him you were going to be this week?” He knows it’s not his business at all, that he’s pushing your boundaries, but he can’t help his curiosity.
“Nowhere.” 
“You told him you were staying on campus?” 
“I didn’t tell him anything.” Your gaze shifts, avoiding his as you toy with the stem of your glass. You drum your nails against it, letting the dull clink ring out. 
“So you just left?” 
“Does it make a difference to you?” 
Sunghoon nods.
For a while, you tug at the drawstrings on your hoodie, pursing your lips to the side, considering this. “Yeonjun and I aren’t together anymore.” Your admission is so shocking that Sunghoon’s jaw drops. He tries to cover his surprise by coughing, his tongue sticking out like a small child. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to think it was because of you.” 
Sunghoon’s thoughts move at lightspeed, too fast for him to catch onto any of them and process this information. His emotions compete with each other—disbelief, guilt, and a painful glimmer of hope he hadn’t dared to acknowledge until now all at the forefront. 
“Was it?” he asks. “Because of me?” 
You scoff—an incredulous sound that doesn’t match the sad look on your face. “I don’t know, Sunghoon. Do you think my boyfriend used me to make his ex jealous because of you?”
He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but this is.. Complete disbelief eclipses him as his heart sinks in his chest, shock, and guilt bubbling in his stomach. 
“I’m sorry,” he says after too long. “That I wasn’t there. That I haven’t been there.” 
“You didn’t know,” you say, gaze softening as you look up at him. 
“But I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it.” 
You shake your head. “I made me feel like I couldn’t talk to you about it. All you did was change the friendship, I’m the one who ended it.”
“I still should’ve been there.” 
“You’re here now, right?” 
Sunghoon nods, earnestly. “Always.” 
Only one thing comes to mind when you repeat the word ‘always’ before taking a sip from your glass, downing its contents. Sunghoon gets up and crosses the room with wobbly steps to open the fridge, where he pulls out as many bottles of soju as he can hold in his hands and puts them down on the table. He goes back to collect some glasses from the cabinet, puts some of the leftover fried rice from dinner into the microwave, and brings it all over when it’s done, with bowls and utensils. You watch him with a fond smile as he opens a bottle and he hopes you think the flush on his cheeks is from all the drinking you’ve been doing. 
“Is it bad that I’ve missed doing this?” You’re grinning now.
Sunghoon shakes his head, raising his glass. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak.” 
You grin, clinking the rim of your glass against his. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak,” you repeat. 
Both of you down the glasses, and Sunghoon refills them, pouring the soju with an oddly steady hand. As you eat spoonfuls of rice and sip your drinks, silence settles over the room. The soft glow of the kitchen lights forms a warm ambience, a cosy familiarity that brings up simple memories—doing homework together at the table while gossiping about your classmates, the first New Year after you were both eighteen and had your first drink with his parents. 
For at least an hour, the only sounds are the occasional clinks of forks against bowls, glasses hitting the table, the faint hum of the refrigerator and the steady tick of Yeji’s clock. Sunghoon’s eyes meet yours, and he can’t help but notice the slight change in your expression when they do. 
You clear your throat, running a hand through your hair. “This is my sixteenth, actually.” 
“What?” 
You take a small sip of soju, staring down at the table. “My fifteenth heartbreak was losing you. Yeonjun is my sixteenth.”
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In the two days since your soju ceremony, Sunghoon finds himself sinking into the role of your boyfriend like a hot bath. But there’s no use pretending it doesn’t hurt. Pretending it doesn’t hurt when you kiss his cheek before bed, or when you reach out to push the hair out of his face or snuggle into his side on the couch; because it does hurt—a lot. It hurts to think that in three days when you put your bags in the boot of his car, you’ll sit in silence all the way home. When he drops you off at your flat, you’ll close the door in his face and stop talking to him again. These realisations are harder to confront when he’s alone in his room, like now. 
About an hour ago, you asked if you could borrow his car, saying there was something you needed to do on your own. It seemed important, so he handed over his keys with no question. Sighing, Sunghoon gets up from his bed and heads to the shower, where he jerks off to clear his mind. On his way back to his room, he notices the light leaking from the open kitchen door that illuminates the landing. 
He hears the lock on the front door clicking, and stands at the top of the stairs, dripping water onto the carpet while listening attentively. His ears perk up when he hears a gasp—his mother. 
“What’s this for?” she asks. 
“I just..” You trail off. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to thank you both for always looking after me.” You pause, and Sunghoon holds his breath, waiting. Your voice trembles as you continue. “It’s been hard since my parents went back home, and I guess it was still hard when they were here, but you both supported me. I don’t think I could’ve managed without you guys. I want to make you guys proud, you know? And I’m trying, really, so this is me saying thank you. I’m sorry it took me so long.” 
He grips the railing by the landing, digging his nails into the wood until they start hurting—an ache in his fingertips that makes him wince. 
An odd feeling settles in his stomach, a bittersweetness tinged in his fondness for you, and the gentle shock of realising how much his parents have done for you. Growing up, you became an honorary member of Sunghoon’s family. His parents showered you with gifts during holidays and birthdays, which you often celebrated with them rather than your own family. 
The memory of your parents’ sudden decision to move across the country still lingers, and Sunghoon vividly recalls the tearful conversation he overheard at the top of the stairs. Your parents understood the enormity of their request but had earnestly asked if Sunghoon’s parents could continue looking after you. 
His chest tightens when you start crying. 
“You don’t have to thank us for anything, sweetie. Just you being here and taking care of our boy is more than enough thanks. You never forget our birthdays, and you always come and visit when you can. You’re doing a great job, and you should give yourself some credit,” his dad says, a little choked up. “We’ve always been proud of you.” 
Sunghoon’s eyes sting with tears and his skin gets dry in the spots where the water from the shower is evaporating. He presses his fingers to his closed eyes, forcing a few tears to fall and walks the rest of the way to his room with his eyes shut. He can’t hear anything through his closed bedroom door, which he decides is a good thing as he coats himself in moisturiser and swipes deodorant under his arms with intention to spend the whole night alone. Once he’s dressed, he gets into bed and pretends not to be bothered by the way his wet hair dampens his pillow. Under the duvet, he tosses and turns before sighing and heading to Yeji’s room.
In her absence, the room’s subtle transformation is stark. The sage green-painted walls, once a backdrop to the A3 faces of Wave to Earth and Beabadoobee, now bear the faint imprints of those missing posters. Tiny, shadowy rectangles are the only remnants of the 6x4-sized pictures of her and her friends, of her and Sunghoon, that she took away with her to school.
Her hairdryer is still on her desk where she’d left it for him to use and he sits in her stiff wooden chair, plugging it in. The airflow starts immediately, hot and loud, humming throughout the space as he runs his fingers through his wet hair, feeling cosy under the heat. His shampoo is fresh and soapy scented under his nose, and his reflection watches him in Yeji’s mirror, eyes red and concerned while his hair blows around his head. Sunghoon closes his eyes and finishes his hair, sighing as he lets his worries slip under the whir of the fan. 
Finished, he shuts off the dryer and opens his eyes, flinching at your reflection in the doorway behind him with a soft smile on your face. “Mum and Dad are going to open a bottle of wine if you want to join,” you say, meeting his eyes in the mirror. 
Sunghoon can’t find it in himself to speak, only nodding in response. You smile wider but don’t move. He unplugs the hairdryer and leaves it on the desk where he found it before crossing the room. Without giving himself a chance to think about it, he pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head, smiling into your hair when you wrap your arms around his waist, holding him closer. 
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You’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub, mumbling sleepily that you’re never going to drink again, and Sunghoon leans over the sink brushing his teeth, he’s glad you have the decency to cover your mouth as you speak. 
“Brush your teeth and go back to sleep then,” he mumbles around his toothbrush. 
You don’t respond. 
Sunghoon sighs through his nose, spitting foamy toothpaste into the sink, leaving bubbly, blue splatters on the porcelain. “And quit staring at me, I can feel your beady little eyes on the back of my neck and it’s freaking me out.” 
“But you’re so pretty,” you coo. 
There’s a flutter in his stomach and he rinses off the sink and his mouth, buying himself some time. With a hand on the Listerine, he lifts his gaze to meet yours in the mirror and stops short. You’re still staring at him, features soft and glowing under the afternoon light. You look like an angel; a gentle smile spreading over your lips, and a sleepy glint sparkling in your eyes, wide and gorgeous as you watch him. Sunghoon gulps, mumbling his thanks and looking back at himself. He hopes you can’t see the flush on his cheeks. 
“Go back to sleep,” he says. 
“Will you come and lie down with me if I do?” Your voice is a sleepy drawl, coming out in a slow, high-pitched slur, and your eyes are closing on themselves. 
Lying down doesn’t sound like a terrible idea, especially not if it’s with you, so he nods. “If you brush your teeth, then yeah, baby, I’ll lie down with you.” 
You chuckle softly at Sunghoon’s agreement, the sound carrying a mix of exhaustion and genuine amusement, showing no repulsion to him calling you the B-word. He didn’t mean to, it’s been a confusing few days. You nod, saluting to him and getting up to join him by the sink, using your hip to bump him out of the way, but he feels like he’s glued to the spot. 
“Move, baby,” you mumble sleepily, reaching for your toothbrush. “We can cuddle in my bed,” you suggest, to which Sunghoon only nods, taking your words as a cue to unstick his feet from the floor and go to your room, playing the word ‘baby’ on a loop in his head. 
He stands in the doorway staring at your bed, the duvet is all crumpled in the middle, and the pillows are in an L shape at the top corner. He sighs, he can’t go on like this, can’t stand around hoping even a tiny part of you called him ‘baby’ and it meant something for you as it did for him. It’s not fair for him to project his feelings on you like this, but he can’t help it. You’re already pretending for his parents, so would it be so bad to pretend for his sake as well? Even if only until the day after tomorrow when you leave? 
The sound of the bathroom door shutting behind you snaps him out of his thoughts, your bright smile making his heart race when you tug him by the sleeve to your bed where the mattress dips underneath you as you curl into his form, resting your head on his chest and falling asleep. You’ve shared the bed before, countless times, but he knows you’ve only asked him because you’re tired. Because your brain is foggy with drowsiness that clouds your judgement, not because you want him there, not because you miss him when he’s two doors down the hall, tossing and turning at night thinking about you. He wonders absently if you can feel his aching heart beating through his chest, a painful, yet all too familiar rhythm that pulls his own eyes shut, plunging him into a deep sleep too.
It’s dark in the room when he wakes up, the sun already down behind the curtains and the soft yellow of the bedside lamp casting a glow around the space. You’re staring up at him, smiling and you don’t look away when he catches you. “What is it?” he asks, voice thick with sleep. 
“Nothing,” you mumble. “I just missed you.” Sunghoon has no time to respond or even register what you said before you clear your throat, speaking again.  “Come on, dad’s cooking tonight, he’ll need help.” 
Helping Sunghoon’s dad with dinner always looks an awful lot like Sunghoon eating snacks on the kitchen counter and staring at you as you help his dad cook. Tonight is no exception, he’s sitting on the island, and his snack of choice is a family pack of Chilli Heatwave Doritos his mum bought for Yeji. He’ll have to remember to replace them before leaving seeing as he’s reaching the halfway point. 
You go back and forth with his dad about measurements, with you rummaging through the drawers for measuring cups while his dad says it’s best to trust your gut. Reluctantly, you nod, chewing the inside of your cheek as you watch him eyeball the seasoning. 
The gas stove turns the kitchen into an oven, and you complain about it while opening a window, pulling your hoodie over your head and leaving it in Sunghoon’s lap. Time stops when you grin at him, the light from the stove hood illuminating the necklace you’re wearing, his initial resting on your chest and glowing under the light. He chokes around a crisp when he sees it, catching your attention with his coughing. 
“You’ll spoil your dinner, snacking like that, baby,” you scold, using a hand to push his knee. “We’re almost done, I swear.” 
All he can do is nod, cheeks burning as he folds the crisp packet over before putting it back in the bread bin where he found it. 
“Wow,” his dad says, resting his hands on his hips and shaking his head in amusement. “Being in love looks good on him, he’d never have listened if I said that.” 
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It’s already your last day when Sunghoon picks up Yeji from school. She grumbles for the entire half-hour drive and all the way to the front door about why the two of you couldn’t have started the trip today instead of ending it, but all of her irritation dissolves when she sees you in the hallway, leaving the front door wide open to fling her arms around you. You and Yeji exchange compliments for a while — You look so pretty. No, you look so pretty. I love your hair. I love your hair. — as Sunghoon locks the door and watches with a smile.
“God.” Yeji sighs, holding you by the waist and craning her neck up to look at you, as you push some of her hair from her face, pinning back her wispy bangs with the palm of your hand. Yeji giggles. “I’m so happy you two are together, even though I have no idea what a girl like you sees in my loser brother.” 
Sunghoon rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wall. Despite his mild irritation at Yeji’s words, he finds the sight of you with her so adorable his stomach flutters. Over the top of Yeji’s head, you look at him with a fond smile. “He’s not so bad.” 
It doesn’t sound like a compliment, but Sunghoon takes it to heart. 
Like always, Yeji manages to capture your undivided attention and the two of you giggle and whisper with each other all afternoon while Sunghoon watches, too enamoured by the sight to care about being left out. An hour or so passes like this, until his parents get home from work, excited to see Yeji after a few weeks, and you leave her side, coming to cuddle with Sunghoon instead. 
It’s nice being home with everyone, laughing and sharing a meal before his family walks the two of you to his car with at least a month’s worth of cooked food for you to share at university. Yeji makes you pinky promise that she can visit you and waves with a pout on her face until the car is out of view.
Contrary to what he’d been expecting, the drive back is nice. Your playlist is on, and you’re telling him about all the new songs you added, catching him up on things with Chaewon and Yunjin, and all the things you got up to in the time you spent apart. You tell him about a new café that opened up near your place and how you’ll have to go together when he has the time, and Sunghoon bites his tongue before telling you that he always has time for you. The first half of the trip goes on like this but you start dozing off around the halfway mark, your sentences becoming few and far between, eventually turning into half-mumbled thoughts that end prematurely. 
You’re still asleep when he reaches your flat, head propped up against the window with your soft lips parted, looking too pretty and cosy to wake up. Instead, he drives in circles around your block, deciding to wait for you to wake up on your own. It only takes a half-hour but you blink your eyes open, stretching your neck before looking around and out the car window, recognising the street. You don’t say anything, only smiling when you look at him, a small curve of your lips that makes his heart race.
He gets out of the car with you, opening the boot to get your bag before pulling you into his chest for a hug, liking the way your arms settle around his waist. “Thank you,” he mumbles into your hair. 
Sunghoon doesn’t follow you when you take your bag from him, only watching from the back of his car. You don’t notice until you reach the main door, looking over your shoulder and frowning at him. “Aren’t you going to walk me up?” 
The two of you walk in silence up four flights of stairs as the lift in your building is out of order. Your bag feels much heavier in his hand now than it did outside. At your door, he watches you dig around for your keys, sighing with relief when you find them. 
“Do you want to come in?” you ask from your open doorway.
“I—uh—I have training in the morning and I’m already pretty tired, so..” He trails off.
Unfazed, you nod. “Right, of course. I had fun this week.” 
“Yeah, me too.” 
You smile at him, sweet and sincere. “Text me when you get home, yeah?” 
Sunghoon nods, saying goodbye. Out of habit, he doesn’t leave your doorstep until he hears the lock click shut, and walks back to his car with his head down. 
True to his word, he sends you a text to let you know he got back to his place safely and you read it immediately but don’t reply. It’s empty in the apartment, Jake is out with his football team and the space is larger than usual in his absence. Far too tired to even consider going out and joining him, Sunghoon goes through his night routine, putting his phone on the charger and stepping into the shower where he spends entirely too long wishing he could live in this week forever as he scrubs his body. With brushed teeth and damp hair, he goes back into his room where his phone lights up with a notification; a text, from you.
YN🫀: i’m glad you got home okay, i just got into bed :) i don’t want to make you uncomfortable or overstep or anything and you can say no (obviously).. i’ve been missing you so much and didn’t know how to reach out or if you wanted me to but i had soooo much fun this week and spending time with you again made me happy, so i’d like it if we could keep hanging out, like before yk? ik it’s a long shot ahahaha but just say you’ll think about it? 
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hoonie: You’re not overstepping at all, I’ve missed you too, so bad. I had soooo much fun this week as well and I’d like it a lot if we kept hanging out, thank you for agreeing and coming along 😚 If you’re free after Lit tmrw you could come over? Or we could go out and do something, whatever you prefer
hoonie: I missed you so much.. 
hoonie: 🤍
The texts greet you as the first rays of Monday morning light filter into your room, instantly lifting your mood. Your bright smile doesn’t escape Chaewon’s notice as you find her in the kitchen, bathed in the soft light seeping through the sheer curtains. The kettle is boiling with a loud rumble that fills the whole room and leaves her yelling as she speaks to you. 
“Good trip?” she asks, coming over and hugging you. “Never leave me for that long again,” she mumbles into your shirt. 
“It was a week, Wonie,” you say, rolling your eyes even though you missed her too. 
She leans away, looking at you with knitted brows. “It was nine days.” 
“The longest of my life.” 
Chaewon pulls air through her teeth, tilting her head and releasing you. “That bad, huh?” she asks, walking back to her seat at your tiny square table and shooting you a look that tells you to join her. 
During your trip, you gave her nightly updates over text, so you know she knows how much you enjoyed yourself, but you elaborate anyway, sitting across from her. 
“No, not at all,” you say, shaking your head and trying to fight a smile. “I had fun.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the grin curving them; it doesn’t work. 
Chaewon raises a suggestive brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “How much fun?” 
“You’re disgusting.” 
“I didn’t even say anything!” she defends, holding her hands up. “I made an implication. It was only a matter of time, you two have that whole.. lifelong best friends to lifelong lovers thing going on, and it’s hot.” 
“Shut up.” 
“You’re telling me, you spent nine days playing lovers with Sunghoon and you still don’t want him? You’re a lost cause, people would kill for that chance,” she says, tilting her head. “I think I would kill for that chance.” 
“Don’t touch him.”
“Oh?” 
“Jesus, Chaewon, it’s not like that. Hoon’s too sensitive for your roster.” 
“I never said it was like anything, you’re the one who’s dangling me over the ledge for saying I want to fuck your hot best friend.” 
“Sunghoon isn’t hot; he’s..” You find yourself at a loss for words, unsure how to continue your lie. Of course, Sunghoon is hot, you’ve known since you were seventeen and spent the summer at your grandparents’ house, only to come back to find your previously scrawny best friend having ditched his LEGOs for dumbbells. You sigh. “Just leave him alone.”
Chaewon grins, eyes sparkling as she leaves the table. “Okay,” she says in a singsong voice, leaving you and the irritation in your stomach alone in the kitchen.
You sigh, pressing your eyes shut and trying to will away your discomfort. It’s not like Chaewon would actually try anything with Sunghoon. Right? Even if she did, it wouldn’t bother you, nor would it be any of your business. They’re grownups and reserve the right to explore their options. Still, there’s a nagging feeling you can’t shake, an uninvited guest in the back of your mind. 
When you check your phone, you realise you have half an hour before you need to head to campus, so you leave to get ready and text Sunghoon back on the way to your room.
you: sounds good, see u later 🤍
After showering, you stand in front of your wardrobe, towel hanging from your body as you pick an outfit. For some reason, you feel under pressure, picking a pair of jeans that do the most for your ass and a low-cut top that Sunghoon once — drunkenly — said he loved on you.
You have the residual sting of mouthwash on your tongue, and one foot out the door when your phone vibrates in your hand. 
hoonie: Do you want to head to class together? 
you: sure! i’m omw out, where should i get you? 
hoonie: .. I’m outside your building :D 
Breathing a laugh through your nose, you don’t fight the giddy smile on your face as you make your way downstairs to meet Sunghoon. Through the glass in the main door, he’s standing at the edge of the pavement and kicking a stone between his feet. The top of his puffer jacket covers the bottom half of his face, and the draught nips your skin when the door opens. Two girls you vaguely recognise stumble in with smudged makeup and heels in their hands, smiling at you while holding the door to let you out.
“Hey!” you call out, jogging over to him. 
Sunghoon turns around, his head poking out of his jacket to grin at you, holding a travel cup and an abundance of tinfoil in your direction. 
“I wasn’t sure if you’d have eaten anything yet, you don’t normally in the morning,” he says, a sheepish smile spreading over his lips when you take it. “Matcha. Ham and cheese toastie.” 
“Did you make these?” you ask, inspecting the familiar cup and appreciating the warmth it provides. 
He hums, nodding his head.
You ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks and thank him with a hug, grinning when he offers to hold your drink while you eat on the walk. The toastie is still hot, the cheese coming close to burning your tongue as you chew, but you appreciate it wholeheartedly, humming contently with each bite. When you’re done, you shove the foil into your pocket, taking your drink from him and smiling around the sweet taste of a matcha latte as he tells you about his schedule for the day. 
“I’m meeting with Coach after class to talk about my grades, but I’m all yours after that.” 
“Talk about your grades? What’s wrong with your grades?” 
Sunghoon groans, head falling back and highlighting the bump of his Adam’s apple. “My grades are.. I failed my coursework this month, so I have resubmissions during finals, and I think he’ll bench me if I fail again.” 
He sounds like he’s being serious, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he is. The news creases your brows because for as long as you remember, Sunghoon’s grades were your parents’ favourite point of comparison.
“Really?” you ask. He nods. “What’s up? Is something the matter?” 
A humourless laugh slips out of him before he pulls air through his teeth. “Yeah, my best friend didn’t talk to me for three months.” 
“Oh..” Guilt stirs your stomach as you look up at him. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not blaming you, it’s not like I was trying to talk and you ignored me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow, giving you a warm smile. “But if you feel as guilty about it as you look, you can tutor me for Lit.” 
“Deal.” 
Sunghoon grins, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and holding you close; the action itself isn’t unusual, but the increased heart rate it brings about is. “You’re too good to me,” he says, holding onto you for the rest of the walk to class.
At his request, you sit with Sunghoon in the back row, watching as the lecture hall gradually fills up in front of you. He seems well-prepared, with his laptop and a small notepad and pen neatly arranged on the desk in front of him.
Throughout the class, your eyes inadvertently track his every move. He diligently types up colour-coded notes, occasionally pausing to write things in his notepad before continuing to type or stopping entirely to listen. There’s something melodic about his actions and the way his fingers run over the keyboard. 
During a five-minute break, you glance at his screen. What you find is more than just lecture content; it’s a document adorned with Sunghoon’s own musings about Hemingway’s style and carefully analysed quotations that go beyond the class discussion.
“How are your notes so good?” 
“I picked up the book over the summer when you mentioned it,” Sunghoon replies with a shrug, a shy smile playing on his lips as he leans back in his seat. “I liked it.” 
A slow nod is your response, though your thoughts swirl like autumn leaves in a breeze. The last time Sunghoon read for leisure, you were in primary school, buddy reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid. But this—this is different. You can’t help but stare at him, awestruck as you take him in. His eyes are wide, shining amber in the sunlight as he pushes some of his hair from his face, frowning when it falls back where it was. 
“Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbles. 
Sunghoon takes a new line in his document and points at the screen where you watch the cursor move through the words he’s typing: I would’ve read and annotated the Bible if you wanted me to..
There’s no time to digest what he wrote or the funny feeling in your chest as you reread it before he deletes the whole sentence, pressing his lips together and looking out the window. Speechless, you stare at his side profile, willing your heart rate to slip back to normal. Steep-sloping nose, plump lips flattened into a line, two points of the triangular mole constellation on his face. Analysis worsens your condition, breath hitching in your throat before stopping entirely. Warmth and trepidation blend within you, fuzzy enough at the edges to seem like one thing—a single force that makes your palm itch with desire, desperation, to reach out and run a finger over his features, feel the bump of the mole on his nose — the most prominent — against your skin. 
You remain this way — silent, watching — even when your lecturer resumes the lesson, and Sunghoon starts typing, writing, and listening again. Polite enough to pretend he doesn’t notice your gaze searing into his face.
After class, and his meeting with Coach, you let Sunghoon lead the conversation and the way to your flat, where you find Chaewon and Yunjin sitting on the couch, whispering to themselves while the two of you study at the coffee table. It’s uncomfortable, an awkward height, too high for the way you’re sitting but you feel calm under the supervision of Chaewon and Yunjin—you won’t do anything to merit teasing in front of them, no matter how badly you want to feel Sunghoon’s face in your hands or stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs. 
To the best of your ability, you answer the questions he has for you—he’d written a ton in his tiny notepad during class, his own concerns clear with each neatly-penned iteration of: How to see actions/dialogue for what they are and not what I want them to be? written in the margins and you try not to feel heartbroken for him.
Three hours have passed by when you walk him to the door, the two of you wrapped up in a bubble so secure you’re surprised to find Chaewon and Yunjin still sitting on the couch. They don’t say anything about Sunghoon in his absence, or the fact he’d given you his sweater when he noticed you were cold. You’re not sure why their silence disappoints you.
Instead, Yunjin asks you about trivial things like dinner while Chaewon sits in silence. 
“What flavour for ice cream?” Yunjin asks, rolling her eyes when you tug on the blanket but not complaining. “And don’t say something ridiculous like mint chocolate, YN.” 
“That happened once! And it was three years ago.. How was I supposed to know you hate fun?” 
Chaewon leans into you, letting you curl your limbs around her from behind as you rest your chin on her shoulder, liking the way her clean scent tickles your nose. 
“Mint-cho isn’t that bad,” she starts. “It’s a little jarring, sure, but it’s kind of sweet. Like watching people come to terms with their feelings for each other.” 
You nod your head, humming in understanding and furrowing your brows when Yunjin scoffs, staring straight at you. Her tone is equal parts cutting and loving, so you know she’s not trying to insult you, but don’t know what she means when she says, “It must be so nice to be as oblivious as you.” 
Yunjin never elaborates, and you never ask, actually feeling the statement’s journey in through one of your ears and out the other when dinner arrives. The three of you share pizza, ice cream, and secrets — the three pillars of 20-something-teenage-girlhood — at the kitchen table, with Chaewon sitting in your lap and picking pepperoni from your slices. 
It’s only hours after Yunijn’s gone home, that her words circle back to you, the statement and all of its weight perching on your chest with all the debilitation and persistence of a sleep paralysis demon.
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“I think I’m getting sick,” you say as soon as she opens her door. “It’s been coming on for a while now, at least a week, maybe more.” 
Unimpressed and exhausted, Yunjin looks down at you through half-closed eyes. “Do you..” She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. “Do you have any idea what time it is right now?” 
“Yes. It’s three a.m.” 
“Exactly. See a doctor if you’re sick, I’m going back to sleep.”
“This is an emergen—” Yunjin cuts you off by pinching your lips together. “It’s three in the morning,” she reminds you. “You can’t yell like that in my hallway, come in.” 
You nod, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes next to hers. “Sorry,” you whisper when the door is closed. 
Using her hand, Yunjin lifts your chin, squinting as her eyes adjust to the light when she flips the switch to inspect your face. “You don’t look or sound sick,” she mutters, flicking the light back off and going to her room. “What are your symptoms? And why did you come here?” 
You don’t have an answer for her last question so you ignore it, following her and tripping over a pair of her shoes in the process. “My cheeks start burning like crazy and my heart races, sometimes it gets hard to breathe.”
“You seem fine to me.” 
A shoulder-slumping sigh slips from your lips. “That’s the thing. I’ll be fine and then Sunghoon shows up with his pretty smile and perfect hair and I feel like I’ve run a marathon.” You know how it sounds, choosing your wording meticulously to let Yunjin be the one to say the words out loud instead of you—it’ll be easier to confront that way. 
From the doorway, you watch as she arches a brow, her interest piqued. “Oh?” 
“I know.” You nod, head bobbing rapidly in furious agreement. “It’s only a matter of time before I cough up a lung and die in his bedroom.”
At your words, Yunjin doesn't reply, only lifting her duvet and getting cosy underneath. You feel like you’re glued to the spot, waiting for her to say something, anything, but nothing comes. All she does is pat the empty spot in her bed. 
“What are you smirking for?” you ask, entering the room properly and closing the door. 
Her response only comes after you’ve taken your jacket and hoodie off, sitting next to her under the covers. “It’s nothing,” she says, laughing. 
“Tell me.” 
Yunjin sighs, resting a hand gently on your shoulder. You think it’s meant to be comforting but it’s the opposite. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Lovesickness isn’t deadly.” 
Feeling the weight of her reassurance, you settle down properly and sigh when your head hits the pillow. Lovesickness. Hmm. 
Closing your eyes, you try to sleep but can’t help tossing and turning as Yunjin snores behind you. You pat blindly around the end table for your phone, grabbing it and wincing at the brightness of your screen. Chewing on your lip, you open Google, looking up ‘lovesickness’ and frowning immediately at the results. Endless negativity fills the screen, terrifying words like ‘unrequited love’ forming a pit in your stomach. There’s nothing negative about what you feel for Sunghoon, nothing unrequited—you think. 
It was obvious during the trip, painfully so. In the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear when his parents weren’t there to see, or how he slipped up and called you ‘baby’ in the bathroom, blushing when you said it back. You can’t fake something like that.. Can you?
Yeonjun did.
Shaking your head, you open Instagram to distract yourself. Jake’s story comes up first; he’s at a party where Jay is losing a game of beer pong, and at the other end of the table is Sunghoon grinning with a bright red lipstick kiss on his cheek. You lock your phone, using your hands to press on your belly to stop the stirring. 
Oh, you think. Lovesickness. 
When you wake up, the first thing you do is check Jake’s story again. The video is still there and that terrible stir in your stomach churns on, burrowing deeply into a pit of canyon-like proportion—so vast there’s a safety railing lining its edges. 
You eat breakfast in silence with Yunjin, zoning out mid-chew to figure out the origin of these feelings and how to handle them. Suddenly, the moment hits you clear as day, vivid like you’re watching it on a screen—it was your third night at his parents’ house, after your walk. 
You felt bad about how you acted, and what you said, so went straight up to your room. With nothing but the bedside lamp turned on, it was dimly lit, shadows cast on the walls as you sulked, replaying everything in your head. Guilt wrapped its long arms around your body, making you feel sick as you thought about it all. About the hurt etched over his face with every word you said, and the frown that stuck around for the rest of the walk as his hand clung limply to yours. 
There was a knock at the door, so gentle you almost missed it, and Sunghoon was standing there when you pulled it open, chewing on his lip with a mug in his hand. Steam skated over the opening, a rich chocolatey smell hitting your nose but the real kicker was the mug itself. In its place on Jake and Sunghoon’s mug tree, it was unassuming, a regular white mug, but upon meeting hot water, the face of young Sunghoon appeared, grinning with his tiny glasses on. It was a gift from one of his old coaches and though he never used it, it was your absolute favourite cup in the world. 
You felt soft around the edges when you looked up at him, his eyes wide and unsure as you met his gaze—he brought that mug three hours across the country so you could use it again. The thought shifted your heart into a comfortable position, settling in your chest with overwhelming warmth and an increased rate. 
“Hi,” you said, clearing your throat. 
“Hi,” he repeated, holding the mug out for you to take. “It’s still hot so be careful.” 
Nodding, you covered your hands with your sleeves, taking the cup from him and asking if he wanted to come in. Sunghoon nodded, shutting the door behind him and standing by the bed, watching you set the hot chocolate on the bedside table as you sat down. The two of you stayed like that for a while, with him only moving when you patted the spot next to you on the duvet. Your train of thought escaped you as soon as he sat down, the warmth of his familiar fresh, citrusy scent taking over and becoming the only thing you could register. The smell of summers with him, long days at the beach and short nights spent on the couch at random parties, cuddled into his side with his arm over your shoulders. The smell you’d come to associate with comfort and home—with Sunghoon. 
“It’s not fair for me to treat you like shit just because I’m annoyed, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that earlier. I’m sorry.” 
A crease ran over Sunghoon’s thick brows as they tugged together, he shook his head. “You don’t have to apologise. I roped you into this whole thing and didn’t even try to think about how you would feel. I’m sorry.” His eyes carried a mix of regret and sincerity, mirroring the weight of his words.
“Anyway, I only came to bring you that,” he said, pointing at the cup. “And to check up on you, I’ll get out of your hair for tonight.” Sunghoon wiped his palms on his pants before standing up, reaching behind him to pick up the cloth he brought. For a moment, he stood there, staring down at it in his hand while you thought about telling him to stay, telling him that you wanted him in your hair—whatever that meant. But he spoke before you had the chance. “You left this, at mine, after.. well, you know. I’m sure you left it intentionally, I mean it was folded up perfectly on the end of my bed, so I know you did, but it didn’t feel right keeping it, you always wore it more than me.” 
Sunghoon extended his hand, holding it out to you and you knew exactly what it was as soon as the fabric touched your skin after so long. It was the shirt Jay bought him for Christmas in first year—they were roommates still trying to get a feel for each other. For a few weeks, Sunghoon had been pestering you about what he should get for Jay, saying it didn’t feel right not to get him anything, and you suggested a targeted t-shirt, one you’d been laughing at all day after seeing an ad for it on your timeline. Sunghoon was sceptical, but bought the red shirt anyway, hoping Jay would find BEING DAD IS AN HONOUR, BEING PAPA IS PRICELESS funny. He did. And Jay bought Sunghoon a targeted shirt too, your favourite. It was black and two sizes too big, with I NEVER DREAMED I’D BE A SEXY FIGURE SKATER BUT HERE I AM KILLING IT written over the chest. 
“Goodnight, YN,” Sunghoon said, crossing the room to leave but hesitating before closing the door. He poked his head through the opening and sighed. “I really am sorry.”
That night, you fell asleep in the shirt, the thinning, yet cosy, fabric wrapped around you like a hug as your heart started to beat a new rhythm, one that eerily echoed the five-foot-eleven figure skater who you let break it. 
This morning, Yunjin claps her hands in your face, seeming irritated when you look over at her. “You have class in an hour, what are you doing?” Before you have the chance to speak, realisation covers her face. “Oh, the feelings.” 
You nod solemnly, too caught up in the butterflies raiding your stomach to come up with something to say. 
At lightspeed, you scarf down the rest of your food, apologising for showing up so late as you head out the door. When you get home, you take the fastest shower of your life and feel grateful Chaewon isn’t around to tease you about the smile you can’t wipe from your face thinking about Sunghoon—you’ll text her later.
You run to campus, feeling the brisk autumn wind beating against your face while the rest of your body overheats under your jacket, hoodie and long sleeve. Despite the discomfort and ache in your lungs, you don’t stop until you reach the door of your lecture hall, huffing and puffing into the faces of classmates who don’t take any notice. Of course, in a stroke of pure luck, your lecturer is late, and you realise bitterly, that all of your huffing and puffing was in vain—you would have gotten to class with time to spare even if you walked.
It’s not a total waste though; you use the time to update Chaewon. 
you: i have news wonie..  i like sunghoon
wonie: …………….. fork in the kitchen yn what’s the news? 
wonie: OHHHH news to YOU.. can i call? 
She calls you immediately. You answer without thinking because your lecturer still hasn’t arrived, and there’s no one sitting close enough to hear or notice you taking a call. 
“Are you going to tell him?!” Chaewon’s voice is so loud you wince, pulling the phone away from your ear. 
“I don’t know.” You shrug even though she can’t see you, still holding the device at a distance just in case. “I don’t have any confirmation that he still.. likes me. It’s been a while, and I was pretty mean that day. 
Chaewon groans and you can picture her throwing herself onto her bed, exasperated. The rustling that comes through the receiver only frames the image, hanging it up. “Did you have to tell him to get a grip?” 
“You know..” You trail off, chewing on your bottom lip. “In hindsight, probably not.” 
A beat passes, she’s thinking. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll help you.” 
“I.. have never been so worried in my life.” You sigh, picking at your freshly painted nails. “But I know you’ll do something no matter what I say, so do what you want, Wonie, but please be subtle about it.” 
Chaewon squeals down the phone. “I love youuuuu!” And it’s the last thing she says before kissing the mic a few times and hanging up. 
Slumping in your seat, you don’t have any time to stress about Chaewon’s plans because your lecturer walks in, with a travel cup in her hand and a paperback tucked under her arm. 
She apologises for being late, running a hand through her hair as she announces that you’ll be watching a film, an adaptation of a book you read at the start of term—Ian McEwan’s Atonement. You spend the first hour of the movie falling in and out of sleep until a text comes through from Sunghoon, and sheer excitement keeps you up.
hoonie: Wanna study together after class? 
you: of course!!!!!! 
hoonie: 🤍
The rest of the movie goes by in a drag, and you come away from it with a mild irritation towards Saoirse Ronan.
you: class just finished, heading to lib rn 
hoonie: Shit, still in the locker room, sorry !!! Omw, can you get a table? 
you: i’ll try..
It takes a while but you find an empty booth on the second floor, and set your bag on the plush green seat to take pictures of your surroundings to send to Sunghoon. You sit on the side facing the stairs so he can see you when he arrives. The thought of seeing him makes your heart race and you try out a few natural-seeming poses for when he’s here, cycling between resting your palm under your chin and sitting with your arms crossed a few times until the top of his head comes into view. 
Seeing him knocks the wind out of you as he approaches the staircase, taking them two at a time with his damp hair clinging to his forehead and neck. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing a tight black vest, and his sweats are hanging low on his hips. A breath you didn’t realise you were holding slips out when he lifts his head, spotting you immediately as a grin spreads over his lips and he raises his arm to wave, the veins in his forearm peeking out to say hi too. You can’t tell if it’s his lack of winter wardrobe or your newfound appreciation for him that’s making his biceps look so huge but it’s hard to look away, even when he reaches the table. 
“Are you hot?” you blurt out. 
Sunghoon laughs, raising a brow and something about the way he’s looking down at you makes your cheeks burn. “Depends who’s asking.” He takes his backpack off, leaving it on the table as he sits down, dumping his jacket and hoodie in a pile beside him.
“I’m asking,” you mumble. 
“Then, yeah, I���d hope so.” 
Is he flirting? It sounds like he’s flirting. Flirt back! “Nice arms.” 
He looks down at his biceps for a beat before looking at you warily. “Are you flirting with me?” He can’t fight the smile twitching at the corners of his lips but he tries his best, pressing them into a straight line.
“A little. They are nice though,” you admit.
Sunghoon grins. “Thanks, I’ve had them for a while now.”
You can’t come up with anything to say, too distracted by the way his smile reaches his eyes, lighting up his whole face and forcing a flustered heat to spread over your cheeks and neck. It’s only when you look away from him that you remember what you’re here for. It’s a study date, not a study date—there’s a difference. 
You hand Sunghoon the material you’d printed for him over the weekend, excerpts from texts you’d studied in class, so he can practise close reading and proper citation. As he makes his way through them, you can’t help stealing glances, smiling at the way his tongue sticks out a little while he focuses, or how he twirls his pen in his fingers while he’s thinking. You aren’t making the best use of your time together, copying out the slides from class yesterday, but you can’t help noticing the way he watches you when he thinks you can’t see. The small smile on his face while he does so only flusters you, an odd weakness settling in your knees as your cheeks heat up. 
After a while, Sunghoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Could you stop watching me?”
“If you noticed me watching, that means you’re watching me.” 
He shrugs, chewing on his lip. “Well, yeah. I’m always watching you,” he says like it’s a given. “But you don’t normally watch back, it’s distracting.” 
“You’re distracting.”
A playful smile curves his lips as he arches a brow, smugness painting his face. “Am I?” 
Too scared to verbalise your response, you nod slowly, hoping you don’t look as wound up as you feel. 
Sunghoon’s eyes flick over your face, flashing with something you don’t recognise. At least not from him. He sits back in his seat, assessing you and eventually shaking his head. 
“You know,” he says, eyes glowing with something you do recognise: cockiness. “If my sexy arms are getting to you that much, I can always put my hoodie back on. Wouldn’t want my little tutor getting distracted, would I?” 
Oh. 
Your stomach turns with want, mind reeling from his tone and the way his gaze lands on your lips. Sighing, you roll your eyes and try to seem unaffected. “Sunghoon, I never said your arms were sexy.” 
His phone starts to go off, buzzing against the table and he turns it over immediately, screen down on the surface as he shifts his focus back to his work. He chews on his lip while he does, eyes flicking back and forth between his phone and the words on the page. Curious, you lean over the table, elbows propped up as you rest your chin in your hands. He doesn’t spare you or his phone, which vibrates another four times, a glance.
“Are you going to get that?” 
Sunghoon shakes his head. “It’s nothing.” 
You hum, letting just enough curiosity seep into the sound that he’ll elaborate without being asked to. It doesn’t take long for him to deliver.
“It’s just Chaewon,” he says, running his hand through his hair and lifting his head. Sunghoon smiles. “We’ve been texting a lot these days.” 
“Cool.” You nod a few times, aiming for nonchalance but hitting bobblehead as you wait for him to continue. He doesn’t, only humming in response, nodding too. 
After a beat, he picks up his phone, angling it just high enough that you can’t see the screen. He reads the messages, an exhaled laugh coming from his nose as the tips of his ears redden—Fuck. This is worse than you thought. 
Chaewon’s commitment to girl code runs deep—she’s been rebuffing Jake since first year when she overheard a girl she’d never seen before telling her friends she thought he was cute. So you know without having to read the texts that nothing she’s saying is even remotely flirty, you can smell the auto-caps and use of the word ‘buddy’ from across the table. 
What you hadn’t counted on, however, was the potential for Sunghoon’s feelings to shift. If they really have been texting more, can you rule out the possibility that he might like.. her? Chaewon is a catch, beyond a catch, and you’d already turned Sunghoon down. Brutally. Of course, he’d move on, he has moved on. 
The rest of the study session is spent manifesting, writing Park Sunghoon over and over in the back of your notebook. You fill three pages while brainstorming ways to snatch a lock of his hair until he suggests that the two of you call it a day. He walks you home, telling you about how Jake’s been bribing him with food to get a ride to the LEGO store across town for the new Marvel set. 
“With or without the meals, I would’ve taken him, but his ramen is my favourite, so..” Sunghoon says, climbing the last step of your building and holding the door open for you. “He even brought a slice of tiramisu to the rink for me after practice.” 
“You’re terrible,” you say, frowning up at him as you search for your keys. “Do you want to come in?” 
Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. “I have a meeting with one of my lecturers soon, I’d have to leave in—” He pauses, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time. “—eight minutes.” 
“I’m cool with that if you are,” you mumble, suddenly shy. 
A bright smile spreads over his lips and he nods, following you in. 
Chilled by the harsh wind, the only thing on your mind is a hot drink as you lead Sunghoon to the kitchen. He shakes his head when you offer him one, sitting on the countertop and exhaling into his palms before rubbing them together. You can’t help but frown at the sight, feeling guilty that you can’t change the weather to suit him. At your thought process, your brows raise. Wow, you think. Is this who you are? 
You busy yourself with the selection of hot drinks you and Chaewon have accumulated, eyeing each container from top to bottom. A purple tub of Cadbury’s hot chocolate that you’re sure is on the brink of expiration, coffee—sachets of the instant stuff you’ve grown to like since leaving home, Earl grey from one of many brands, or the fancy silk tea bags Chaewon’s mum brought home from a trip—rooibos or plum-apple-cinnamon. 
Craving something sweet, you settle for hot chocolate, pulling the heavy container from the cupboard next to Sunghoon’s head and setting it beside your cup. He’s on his phone, scrolling too fast to take in anything he’s seeing and he shakes his head when you ask if he wants something to drink. 
On the dish rack, Chaewon’s mug catches your eye, so you pick it up to dry it off and put it down next to yours. “I’m going to check if Wonie wants any,” you say, wiping imaginary crumbs from the counter onto the floor. 
Sunghoon only clears his throat, shaking his head. “She’s not home, one of her acrylics popped off so she’s at the shop waiting for a cancellation.” 
The information itself isn’t jarring but hearing it from Sunghoon is. You put on what you hope is a neutral smile and nod, taking milk from the fridge and assembling your drink on autopilot while thinking of ways to redirect the conversation. 
“If you knew you’d have to go back to campus so soon, why’d you walk me home?” you ask, watching your cup spin in the microwave. “I could’ve walked on my own.” 
Sunghoon is already looking at you when you turn your head, his cheeks puffed out with air as he blinks slowly. Because I love you, is what you hope he’ll say. You think you need him to say it. 
“Because you don’t have to do anything on your own when you have me,” he says instead, and it’s infinitely better. 
The words seep through your every fibre, his intonation and lucid affection making a home for themselves in your heart, spreading warmth from head to toe. Your smile becomes a radiant grin, only brightening when he shakes his head, smiling down at his feet. 
Sunghoon hugs you in the kitchen when it’s time for him to leave, his arms holding you tight to his chest as he rocks you back and forth. You inhale his scent, all warm citrus under freshly washed cotton and something exclusive to him.
Wiping the smile from your face feels impossible. You don’t let go when he does, and a sweet laugh — a giggle, you think — tumbles out of him as he mumbles that he really has to go. Still, you cling onto him, taking clumsy steps backwards, with your arms locked around his waist, to your front door, smiling as you watch him put his shoes on. 
“You don’t have to walk me downstairs, honestly,” he says, looking down at you in the doorway.
“I want to.” 
His lips quirk up at the corners, a full smile breaking through and causing your stomach to flutter with so much force you’re sure it’s visible through your shirt. His eyes fall to your lips, lingering, before he clears his throat, looking away. 
“I’ll text you when I get to the door, promise.” 
You lock your pinky with his. “Send a selfie, just so I know it’s you and not someone else using your phone.” 
Sunghoon’s head falls back in a laugh. “Should I just call you? That way you can make sure I get back to uni in one piece.” 
You nod.
“That wasn’t anything with Chaewon earlier, I just needed advice on some girl stuff..” He trails off, searching your eyes. It’s obvious that he’s telling the truth, that he wants you to believe him. You do. “I wasn’t sure if that was something I could talk about with you.” 
Girl stuff. Hmm. You try not to read too much into it and look at the bigger picture instead—your best friend is going through something and doesn’t feel like he can come to you about it.. You squeeze his pinky reassuringly, a flutter in your stomach when he smiles. 
“You can talk to me about anything,” you say, meaning it. 
Sunghoon presses his lips together, humming and unlinking your fingers. “Next time,” he says after a beat, waving at you. 
You shut the door, locking it while watching through the peephole, he leaves as soon as the lock clicks shut. In the kitchen, your hot chocolate is cooling down, and your phone rings in your back pocket. Sunghoon’s calling. 
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Hanging out with Sunghoon. Making sure he sticks to the time-blocked schedule you made for him. Quizzing him on biology terms until he gets restless. If the last two weeks were an episode of Family Feud, those would be the top three answers to the question: Name something YN is doing right now.
Thankfully tonight, it’s the first one. 
You’ve been sitting on the couch for so long, Jake has both left for football practice and arrived from football practice. Conversation ebbs and flows—an hour or so of nonstop talking, followed by another hour or so of comfortable near silence. 
It’s during a quiet hour that Sunghoon sits up straight, clearing his throat before saying, “Let me ask you something. He retreats to the other side of the couch, turning to face you with his whole body. “I don’t want things to be weird after I ask, so no matter what your answer is, I won’t bring it up or ask again.”
Arching a curious brow, you nod. “You can ask me anything,” you say, meaning it.
Sunghoon’s face is impressively blank—minus the motion of sharp teeth worrying plush lip, there’s absolutely nothing behind his eyes that seem to stare right through you. 
Eventually, he asks, “Can I kiss you?” He says more. Big, scary words like for closure and moving on, but they don’t register. They don’t matter. 
Your heart pounds at the base of your throat as you find interest in your hands that sit in your lap. Even without looking at him, you can’t get over the slight crease he had in his brow and the slight tremor in his hands. 
“For closure,” you repeat, though your voice doesn’t sound like it’s coming from you, muffled under the thump of your heart. 
Sunghoon nods. “For closure.” 
A humourless laugh sneaks past your throat as you look at him. You shouldn’t have. In the lamplight, Sunghoon is golden and glorious. Warm light casts one side of his face, diffusing gently over the steep slope of his nose, highlighting his moles and the look in his eyes, gentle and curious all at once. Unwillingly, your gaze falls to his lips, parted, tempting. 
One firm nod of your head brings Sunghoon’s hand to your face, his palm cupping your cheek with soft skin as his thumb traces your cheekbone. You grow anxious under his stare, under the drag of his eyes over your features, taking them one at a time like he’s committing them to memory.
Leaning in, your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet his and he freezes, mouth completely still on yours. Delicately, your tongue traces the seam of his lips, soft and plump, until they part for you, moving with yours. Sunghoon’s kiss is unpolished when it reaches you. It’s hesitant but tender, clumsy but sweet, he’s trying and he’s perfect; your favourite. 
The kiss is.. it’s everything. It’s the racing of your heart, the thudding, the vibrant buzz you can hear, feel humming against your ears. It’s a rush of blood to the head, a lightness all over that pulls you out of your body. It’s Sunghoon’s soft lips curving into a smile against yours, his gentle hold on your face never letting up as he holds you as close as he can manage, and it’s every bit as lovely as the rest of him.
Palpable is the heartbeat of your friendship, beating to a lull under the surface of the kiss, fizzling out into nothing, a steady silence, flatlining to give way to something more, something bigger. 
Every brush of your lips against his is a revelation, a confession. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, you tell him with your kiss. You’re everything I need. His free hand finds yours, locking your fingers and squeezing, the action timed well enough to make you think he hears you, to make you think he’s saying, we’ll be okay, I still love you. 
With that, he pulls away, a delicate tension piercing the air. Blown eyes and laboured breathing—he’s beautiful, fuzzy around the edges with warm orange and all of the love in your heart. Breathless, you chew on your lip, cognisant of Sunghoon’s hand in yours and the sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you. 
Belatedly, you squeeze his hand back, smiling. “Was it everything you ever dreamed of?” you whisper, part teasing, all curious.
Abruptly, Sunghoon stands up, letting go of you in the process. “I have to go.” 
You want to stop him, you think you’re supposed to. To grab him by the arm and kiss him again, to yell in his face that you love him until he understands. But you don’t. Instead, you stay seated, staring at Sunghoon’s back and following him with your eyes out of the room and down the hall until he’s out of sight. 
It’s your first time being so upset after a kiss, and you can’t tell if it’s his leaving or the mention of him moving on that’s tripping you up so much. That’s causing melancholy to crawl from the shadows, sinking its jagged nails into your skin to pull you under. 
You love him. He’s gone. 
Eyes stuck on the doorway, time stretches over the room around you, thick and malleable, wet and cloying—clay stuck under your nails for days as the fire in the kiln rages on. 
Sighing, you get up and wait at his door. You ball your hand into a limp fist, knocking weakly. Sunghoon doesn’t reply. You try again, harder. Still nothing. 
Barging into the room, you find him sitting on the end of his bed with his face in his hands. 
“Don’t move on.” The words come out before you realise and Sunghoon lifts his head, squinting at you. 
“Huh?” He tilts his head, watching closely as you approach him, tipping it back enough to meet your eyes when you stand over him. 
You take a breath, holding it until your head starts to spin. “I don’t want you to love someone else, Sunghoon. Please don’t move on.” 
The stillness that follows is disconcerting, a long quiet you can feel on your skin, amplifying the blank stare on his face as he looks up at you. His eyes flash, a spark of hope behind them so bright it stings to look at.
“Do you..” He trails off, his lips moving to form the next word though stopping short.
“I do,” you whisper, nodding. “I’m sorry for taking so long.”
An exhaled laugh comes from his nose as he grins, shaking his head. “You like me?” he asks, excitement and disbelief fighting for authority over his voice, his hands holding your waist and pulling you down into his lap.
“I love you,” you admit, settling on his thighs. 
“You do?” His eyes are wide and gleaming, searching every feature on your face before settling on your own.
You nod. “So much.” 
Sunghoon’s chin tips up, his lips pressing against yours, excited pecks that can’t turn into much more for the smiles on your faces. You rest your arms on his shoulders, hands clasping behind his head, nervous fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 
“So.. will you be my boyfriend? For real?” 
Tilting his head, he tries and fails to fight a smile. “I will. I’m a little bummed though.” 
“Why?” You raise a brow, and the word tips up at the end with it. 
“I wanted to be the one to ask you.” Sunghoon’s honesty warms the room, endearing you completely. 
You grin, loving the heat spreading over your cheeks. “Ask me anyway.” 
“Please can I be your boyfriend?” 
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In the weeks that followed, it became immediately clear that boyfriend Sunghoon operated on a pendulum swinging between sexual ferality and terror. He’d get distracted during study sessions at home, finding more interest in biting at your neck than stream-of-consciousness prose, but closed his eyes if a sex scene came on TV. He’d buck his hips against yours while making out but flinch at the sight of condoms in the store.
He wasn’t ready to have sex and didn’t know how to tell you, so you took matters into your own hands, asking if you could wait until after his results for resubmission came in, saying you didn’t want the distraction for either of you. Sunghoon agreed, pecking your cheek and holding you tight to his chest. 
The only thing was that your lecturer hadn’t given him an exact date, so every morning, you held your phone in a vice grip waiting for Sunghoon to update you, and every morning, you got the same text: Nothing today, baby ☹️ 
This morning, you’re brushing your teeth when he texts you, in all caps: NO FUCKING WAY I GOT A 98 !!! LOOK !!!
When the picture comes through, it’s of him in the mirror and you choke on mouthwash at the sight. He’s smiling, bright and beautiful, in a black vest that he’s holding up a little to show his stomach, though his palm is in the way of his toned abs, and it cuts off right at the top of his grey sweatpants. 
Your mouth goes dry as you click on it, fixating on every little detail you can find: the thickness of his fingers against his phone, the dip in his collarbones, the breadth of his shoulders and the cinch of his waist. In a fit of desperation, you try swiping at the bottom of your screen, willing the picture to magically extend. It doesn’t. 
hoonie: Finger slipped.. You like?
you: mm.. 
you: 98??? HOLY SHIT, LOOK AT YOU!!!
hoonie: All you.. do you like the picture?
you: i love it………….
hoonie: My girl 🤍
Another picture comes in, and sure enough, through the glare of his laptop screen, you see: Course name: The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway. Marks Awarded: 98.0.
you: well done baby !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
hoonie: Thx 😁
hoonie: Can I have my prize now ha ha .. haha 😈
you: just for that emoji, no you absolutely cannot.
Your resolve isn’t strong enough when it comes to Sunghoon, because purple devil emoji and all, you show up at his door with condoms in your bag and a bouquet of lilies behind your back. 
The door creaks open and Sunghoon greets you with a grin. “Hey, gorgeous. You proud of me?” 
You beam at him, holding out the flowers. “I’m very proud, Hoon, well done.” 
“I don’t want to ruin the moment,” he starts, taking the bouquet from your hands and sniffing the flowers with an approving smile. “But hearing you say you’re proud of me is awakening something I didn’t know existed.”
“A good something?” 
“Mm,” he hums, arms finding your waist before he pecks your lips. “A very good something.” 
Sunghoon’s words hit your lips and your core, a desperate heat flooding your stomach as he kisses you deeply, his body pressed tightly against yours while he pulls you into his apartment. He kicks the door shut with his foot, slipping his hand under your jacket to settle in your back pocket, not quite squeezing but holding your ass as gently as he can manage. 
He breaks away from you, love in his eyes as he stares down into yours, catching his breath. “I don’t think we own a vase.” 
In his kitchen, you rifle through cupboards to find something to hold the flowers, eventually finding a whiskey decanter in the cupboard under the sink, and holding it up for Sunghoon to see.
“Oh, yeah,” he says. “It’s Jay’s. It’ll work right?” 
You nod, taking it to the sink to rinse it. Sunghoon wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder watching you fill the decanter with water and flower food before grabbing the bouquet. He presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and you struggle to stay focused as you cut down the stems on the flowers, arranging them neatly. 
“Can I take a photo?” he asks when you’re done. 
He’s smiling when you turn around to look at him, a soft curve of his lips that makes your heart race, a deep tenderness in his eyes when you meet them. You smile too. 
“They’re yours, baby, do whatever you want.” 
“A photo of you with the flowers,” he clarifies. 
Warmth settles in your chest, a grin spreading over your lips from ear to ear. You nod, taking the decanter in your hands when he lets go of you, holding the flowers up beside your face and smiling for his camera. As his phone shutter clicks away, you steal glances at his face behind it. He’s watching the screen with a smile, telling you how beautiful you are.
“I want pictures of you too,” you say, handing the flowers over. 
“I’m yours, baby, do whatever you want.” 
Sunghoon poses for your photos, smiling sweetly in some and sniffing the bouquet appreciatively with closed eyes for others. He’s glowing and he’s beautiful and your heart triples in size while taking picture after picture until your phone tells you it has ten percent. 
“Thank you, YN,” he says. “I’ve never gotten flowers before, I love them.” His arms settle around your waist, lips pressing against yours before you have the chance to respond. 
You try anyway, mumbling against his lips that you love him. In response, Sunghoon grins, but the feeling of his cock growing hard against you is distracting, a lust-coated thorn in the side of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. With locked lips and uncertain steps, the two of you bump into corners and trip over your own feet, stumbling to his room and parting only to tear his hoodie over his head.
Breathless, you pull away, eyes trailing over him and picking up on everything, from the tremble in his hands to the lust-addled worry in his eyes. He’s nervous, you think—though it escapes you, the last word coming out like a question.
Sunghoon scoffs, his hands resting on your waist under your shirt, skin clammy against yours. “Of course, I’m nervous.” 
“You don’t have to be.”
“I just want to be good for you.” 
“Don’t worry about that, let me take care of you, Hoon.” Your palms drag up his torso — firm abs through soft cotton, defined chest over racing heart — to rest on his shoulders. “Sit,” you say when he nods. 
He gulps, taking a seat on the end of his bed under your gentle push, eyes widening when you sink to your knees between his legs and reach for his drawstring, pulling the ends to untie the knot. 
“Wait,” Sunghoon says, breathless, scrunching up his face and dropping his head. “Let me calm down, baby. At this rate, I’ll come just seeing your hand on it.” 
You giggle, resting your head on his thigh and wrapping the drawstring around your finger.
“I’m serious, YN,” he mumbles, laughing as he takes his vest off. “I need a minute.” 
Sunghoon’s eyes are pressed shut as he tries to collect himself, lips pouty and kiss-bitten, slightly parted with ragged breaths slipping out. You wait patiently for him. He’s so pretty like this, with the crease in his brow and the pretty pink flush dusting his cheeks as his chest rises and falls. You can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch when his hand rests on top of your head, his blunt nails grazing your scalp. After a while, he seems more at ease, his eyes finding yours and he smiles shyly, telling you he’s ready now and lifting his hips from the bed to let you pull his sweats and underwear down. 
Free from the constraints of fabric, his cock slaps his stomach with a wet sound as the tip meets his skin, leaving a pearlescent streak over his abs. The sight makes your mouth water and you can’t look away. “Pretty,” you whisper.
Wrapping a hand under his tip, you swipe it with your thumb, taking time to memorise the flutter of his eyelids, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, and the soft sigh he lets out. You stroke him slowly, liking the way his breath picks up as his brows knit together before you take him in your mouth. It’s a tight fit but you do your best, spurred on by the way he tugs at your hair and stutters through a holy fuck as you take as much of him as you can. 
Sunghoon goes silent, only squirming when you use your hand to stroke him near his base. Self-conscious about his lack of vocal affirmation, you look up at him through your lashes, and the pure bliss on his face is unbearably attractive. His eyes are rolled back under furrowed brows, his mouth hanging open as he throws his head back.
“Am I doing okay?” you ask, using the moment to catch your breath.
He nods, inhaling shakily and screwing his eyes shut while his hips buck up into your fist. “I’m.. You’re doing such a good job, baby, so good.”
Satisfaction courses through you from the praise, a high that dulls the ache in your jaw. Still watching him, you massage his balls in your palm, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his tip when he whines. You tongue at his slit until he thrusts back into your mouth, tip hitting your throat, and he gasps when you gag, his arm coming up to cover his eyes. A belated apology slips from his lips, mumbled as he strokes your hair with a shaking hand and goes quiet again. When you speed up, his breath stutters, the muscles in his thighs contracting around your head as you suck and lick and drool on his cock. 
A moan of your name, and his hand holding your hand down, are the only warnings you get before Sunghoon comes, spilling his load right down your throat. Whining, his hips buck up against your face, pushing further and further until he falls back onto the mattress.
Your throat is hoarse and aches while you use the back of your hand to wipe at your lips, enjoying what’s left of his taste on your tongue. Deep red tints his neck and chest, a pretty flush gleaming under the sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s mesmerising, as he tries for air through swollen lips and looks up at you through squinted eyes. He reaches for you, cute grabby hands tugging your shirt and pulling you down so you’re lying next to him with your head on his chest. 
“You’re amazing, baby, so good for me,” Sunghoon whispers, eyes fluttering shut as you drag your nails over his torso, feeling the subtle heave of the slick, sculpted muscle over his stomach and chest. 
Pride heats your chest, satisfaction rolling over you like a wave. “Really?”
He hums in affirmation, nodding his head. 
“You were so quiet, I couldn’t really tell,” you add, hungry for more praise. 
“The walls are so thin in here, I just got used to being quiet,” Sunghoon says, frowning. Hand meeting your chin, he tips your head up towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and mumbling, “I’m sorry. You were perfect, I swear.” 
It’s a sweet kiss. Until lips move harder and hands get lower, desperate as he thumbs the top of your leggings, palm unmoving but a dangerous heat blooms in your stomach anyway.
“Can I..” Sunghoon pinches you softly through the material, unsure eyes boring deep into yours. 
You nod. “You can.” 
Slipping under your waistband, his fingers skate across your skin dipping between your thighs. He grazes your slit, satisfaction clear in the groan he lets out as he feels the wetness there, pulling it over the length of your slit to cover your clit. Your breath hitches, a strangled gasp, pleasure and surprise meeting in your throat under the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the gentle sting of his finger pushing into you. 
What Sunghoon lacks in experience, he makes up for with the sheer length and thickness of his fingers. It’s almost jarring, it’s enough to force your eyes closed and bring a sigh rumbling out of you, ache and relief settling between your legs, where he curls a finger against your walls and drags slow circles over your clit. 
“Can you take these off, baby?” he asks, hand away to touch your leggings. 
You don’t waste a second, sitting up to pull them off, throwing them and your underwear across the room. Sunghoon licks his lips, tugging at the hem of your shirt. 
“And this? If you want..” 
You nod, pulling it off immediately to let it join the rest of your clothes in a heap on the floor. The way he gulps is a confidence boost, his dilated pupils taking in every inch of your body, though his gaze always pulls back to your bra—white and lacy, thin enough for your nipples to push through the fabric and Sunghoon can’t seem to get enough, though he waits until you’re lying down again to touch you. 
Sunghoon props himself up on his elbow, leaning over you. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, dragging a finger over the lace at the top of your bra, toying with the material and the little bow sitting between your breasts. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “So beautiful,” he repeats. 
Hiding your face in his chest, you mumble, “Thank you,” into his skin while trying to ignore the heat spreading over your body wherever he touches you. His hand trails from your arm to your waist, resting on your hips to slip over your ass for a beat, where he grabs and squeezes the flesh there before coming back around to slot between your legs—you lift one of them, resting it over his body, and he’s smiling sweetly when you look up at him.
Sunghoon’s movements are unchanging, though the sensation is heightened by the unbridled desire in his lidded eyes that urges white heat to lick over every inch of your skin—this time he pushes two fingers into you.
It doesn’t get better than this, you think. But it does, quickly. 
Leaning over you, his eyes flick across your face, one feature at a time as he chews on his lip. Reaching up, you push some of his hair from his face, holding it back and saying, “Relax, baby.” 
“Don’t want to hurt you.”
Moving your hand, you blink when his hair flops back over his forehead, tickling your eyelashes. His eyes are focused now, staring straight down into yours, want and worry flashing behind them. 
“You won’t, I promise,” you say, locking your pinky with his, feeling relieved when he smiles.
Sunghoon pushes in slowly, his name slipping from your lips when he exhales shakily, head falling forward. The sting, the pleasure, make it hard to breathe, molten desire taking hold of your lungs as he carves out a place for himself as far as you’ll take him, all the way to the hilt as slow as he can manage. 
A moan tears out of him, lewd and whiny as his hair tickles your collarbone, head falling into the crook of your neck. His skin is hot and damp against yours, his breath burning your shoulder as he tries to calm down. It’s difficult to register much else, tethered only by the sound of his voice when he asks, “Am I hurting you?” 
“Hoon,” you whisper. 
“Can you look at me, baby?” He lifts his head, resting a hand on your cheek. You blink your eyes open, gaze locking with his, where concern pushes through his desire. “Am I hurting you?” he asks again. “Are you okay?” 
You nod. “I’m okay, just..” You sigh. “Full. Need a minute.” 
Sunghoon kisses you, lips moving gently with yours, passing breathy whines between your mouths until you feel yourself relaxing. Pulling his plush bottom lip between yours, you suck on it, nodding. “Want you to move, baby,” you mumble. 
He scans your face, eyes meeting yours as he pulls his hips back. He’s slow, so slow with his thrusts that your belly turns with want, your fingernails sink into the taut skin of his back, and jagged sobs fall out of you with each drag of his cock along your walls. 
Everywhere his skin touches yours is set ablaze with scorching heat, goosebumps pushing past the surface as his breath fans your neck and his sharp teeth graze your skin. He bites hard enough to sting, and you wince as his tongue flicks over your bitten flesh to soothe you.
You were so worked up earlier, writhing against the sheets and coming undone in his palm, so bliss quickly pushes through the ache between your legs. “Good, Hoon, feels so good,” you manage, struggling to convey how perfect it is.
“Just want to make you feel good.” His words melt into each other, vowels soft and elongated as they curl around each other. He’s working up a steady rhythm, his tip consistently nudging you where you need it—the spot that makes the room blur around you. “That’s all I want.” 
Before long, the knot in your stomach pulls you up from the mattress, arching your back towards the ceiling. Mouth to mouth, chest to chest—it’s the closest you’ve ever felt to someone else, the closest you’ve ever been. The thought alone knocks the wind out of you, and his persistent whining does nothing to help.
Your want and adoration for Sunghoon run bone-deep, inching up your spine and creeping over your shoulders, intertwined with an all-consuming pleasure that turns the heat in your stomach molten as a shudder zips through you. Even though you can’t find the words to let him know, he lifts your hips from the bed to fuck you deeper, harder, into the mattress until shaky orgasms pull both of you under. 
You let him fall into you, fingers curling around his hair, whispering I love you into the skin of his neck as he comes, most of his weight on top of you while you catch your breath, relishing in the fullness you feel as the last waves of your high pull back. You stay like this for as long as he needs, his head coming up from the crook of your neck to smile at you before pressing his lips to yours. A sleepy haze fills the room around you, tongue swiping tongue as you giggle happily into his mouth. 
After a while, he gets up, tying the condom to throw it away and comes back with his shirt. He uses it to clean up—gentle between your legs, pressing kisses to your calves while he does. Sunghoon’s tenderness wraps around your heart, and love clouds your vision, forming a blurry trail that follows all of his movements, glowing like something from a dream, ethereal, an apparition. 
The bed dips beside you, his arms around you, pulling you in so his chin rests on your head. You push your cheek into his chest, hoping the two of you will meld into one—the thought makes you warm all over, a fuzziness that reaches every part of your body while he presses kisses into your hair, rubbing your back. 
“I love you,” he says, voice as soft as the rest of him. “I’m glad I exist.”
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mama park: Hi lovely 😍 missing you lots, wondering when you’ll be home for Xmas………..love ma
Sunghoon stirs, nose scrunching as he snores softly into the quiet of a winter morning. His chest rises and falls steadily under your head and he doesn’t move when you sit up. The lamp on his desk is still on — neither of you could be bothered getting up to turn it off last night — and under its dim glow, you admire him. Perfect lips gently curved—long lashes kissing the skin under his eyes. 
Love hits you from all angles, warmth all over from head to toe despite the chill in Sunghoon’s room. You can’t help but grin, leaning up to nose along the underside of his chin, his natural scent so soft yet dizzying as you nuzzle into him. He stirs again, turning his head this way and that before resting, you feel a bit bad, deciding to leave him be and text his mum back. 
you: hi mum !!! missing you sooooooo much :((( will be home asap
mama park: BTW Sunghoon told me everything. I raised such good actors LOL make sure he looks after you and keeps you happy!
you: i’m so sorry we lied to you..
you: but i’m really happy with him and he loves me a lot
you: i love him so much .. never been so sure of anyone in my life
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© zreamy (2023), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let my know your thoughts !
permanent taglist: @asahicore
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laligraves · 3 months ago
Text
chp.2 - poolside
morning run series
joel miller x fem!reader
[18+] | wc: ~2.7k summary: Your nap is interrupted by Joel. masterlist | AO3
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warnings: HBO Joel, TLOU AU, dubious consent (i'm so serious, don't read if it makes you uncomfortable), NSFW, pre/no outbreak, some proofreading (not enough so sorry for mistakes), Joel is a tall and very strong man, older man/college-aged reader, no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, alcohol consumption, pet names, some degradation, breeding kink (yeah), fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie
a/n: i'm still here <3! just busy with real life :( i don't have a huge plan for this series except to make little one shots here and there since i have a lot of fun with these two characters lol. other stuff on the way i promise <3
You left two days after that encounter with Joel Miller. Your head was still spinning and your pussy still sore, but the semester started and you needed to be back on campus. 
The first night back in your dorm, you debated throwing out the roses that now sat on your desk. You lasted 10 minutes just looking at them before you were touching yourself to the memory of him. You could still feel the scratch of his beard on your neck and remember the smell of his cologne. 
He’d put his phone number in your contact list and you debated calling him. But what would you even say? 
You should be mad at Joel for what he did. Yet somehow, he managed to reach into the deepest corners of your mind and fulfill one of your darkest fantasies. 
Now, back in town, you can’t help but feel a little excited to see him again. Even if the more sane part of your brain is trying to convince you to slap him across the face if he comes near.  
“Hey, lazy girl,” your sister calls out. 
“Hey,” you respond softly, not moving from your spot on the lounge chair. 
“I’m leaving. Are you sure you’ll be okay?” 
“Yeah,” you reply, knowing you’ll probably spend the entire week swimming and sunbathing by the pool. 
“I left money on the counter and the keys to my car in case you need it.” 
“Okay, mom,” you say sarcastically. 
She throws a pool noodle at you and leaves with her friend after that, promising to text you when she reaches her destination. Any other time you’d be disappointed that your sister was leaving for a full week just as you arrived for summer vacation, but she’s been working so much that she deserves a trip. 
The stress from the semester leaves your body with each lap around the crisp pool and the warm sun. You go back into the house to make yourself a tequila soda and make your way back out to the chairs underneath the canopy. 
A sudden thought pops into your head as you look around the empty backyard. The fences are tall enough and the gate leading to the backyard is locked. Your sister doesn’t have cameras that face this side of the house yet, so there’s really no reason for you to be so nervous. 
You’ve never sunbathed in the nude, there’s just never been an opportunity for it. But now, with the house empty and the tequila coursing through your veins, it would be the perfect time to do so. 
Before the courage leaves you, you slip off the strings of the bikini and spread out on the lounge chair.
“Absolutely nothing to worry about,” you whisper. 
You eventually doze off, moving around until you’re once again face down. A text message from your sister lights up your screen, but at this point you’ve fallen asleep and don’t pay any mind to it. 
I forgot to tell you that Joel Miller from down the block is stopping by. He’s going to plant the roses Susan wants, but needs to take a look first. Help him with whatever he needs. Tell him thank you! 
You start to dream of Joel massaging sunscreen on your back, trailing his hands over your sides until they land on the soft, plump flesh of your ass. 
His hands massage and spread your cheeks open, presenting your asshole and pussy for his eyes. Joel lands a glob of spit right on your little winking star and you flinch slightly. 
“It’s okay, babydoll,” he coos. 
The tip of his finger circles your asshole just a bit, enough for you to shiver from the sensation. 
His fingers trail down to your pussy where he slowly teases a finger up and down your slit, gathering the wetness. 
“Joel,” you whimper. 
You push back on his hand, overcome with need.
Joel laughs at your desperate attempts to fuck yourself on his hand and moves your thigh to the side, giving him the perfect view of your cunt. 
Before you have a chance to complain, he spreads you open and runs his tongue through your folds. Your hands grip the towel and you almost scream in surprise. 
At the scrape of his teeth on your inner thigh and the scratch of his beard on your skin, you begin to wake. This isn’t a dream.  
“What–” 
“‘bout time you woke up,” Joel growls. “Dreamin’ about me, babydoll?” 
You lift your head, slightly delirious, still grinding back on his face. 
“Joel, whatthefuck–” you whisper, words slurred from sleep. 
He tongues your entrance and swipes a finger over your clit, a movement that has you almost seeing stars. Joel ignores your pleas for him to wait, choosing instead to push two large fingers into your pussy. You choke down on your words at the stretch, still confused. 
“Can barely fit my fingers in this sweet cunt,” Joel says.  
“Wait–” you whimper, “fuck, wait.” 
With his fingers still in your pussy, he moves up to lie partially on top of you. He bites your shoulder, neck, runs the tip of his tongue over the shell of your ear. 
“No waiting, babydoll. Gotta stretch this tiny hole,”  
Vulgar. He’s so nasty with his words, still, your pussy beats with its own heartbeat. 
“Joel–” 
“All this time waitin’ for you to call me,” Joel hums into your ear, “just used me for my cock, didn’t you? Little slut.” 
“No, I didn’t. I–” 
“I knock you up?” 
You give a tiny, jerky shake of your head, no, unable to form words. 
“Guess we’ll have to try again, yeah?” he murmurs in your ear. “Gonna’ fill up this pussy.”
“No—“
You mean to say it with conviction. But your voice wavers, and you cum right into the palm of his hand, soaking him.
You grind down on his hand and bite into the towel to muffle your screams. 
“Good girl,” Joel groans, “just love makin’ a mess, don’t cha’?”   
Your hands slowly let go of the towel and your body becomes limp. Joel stands from the chair and you hear the clatter of his belt and the soft rustle of his clothes landing on the ground. 
Your nap being interrupted by Joel is not something you were expecting. In fact, what is he doing here?
“Joel, what are you–” 
His hands reach for your hips and he’s flipping you over on your back, making room for himself between your thighs.
“Needa look at your pretty face and pretty tits while I fuck ‘ya.” 
“We can’t–” 
Joel’s calloused fingers pinch your hard-tipped nipples and as if your body is already conditioned for him, you push up right into his hands.
“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Joel groans. 
Before you know what’s happening, Joel leans down to drag his tongue over each peak. He bites, leaving only a hint of pain and shushing your needy whines. 
He grinds down between your open thighs, covering his cock in your slick. You moan and writhe on the lounge chair, twisting your hips with each bump of his mushroom head right on your swollen button. 
 “Joel, please,” you beg. 
But you’re not quite sure what you’re begging for. The sane part of your brain tells you to put an end to this, to send Joel far away from you. But then he sucks your nipple into his mouth and your mind goes blank.
Joel keeps biting, sucking, lapping at your tits until you feel the familiar sensation in your lower belly. As if sensing another orgasm, either from your moans or the way you're grinding up on his cock, Joel stops, placing a soft kiss on each nipple before leaning back. 
“I needed to taste those tits before I fuck ya’,” Joel rasps. 
You tremble beneath him, laying there in a sweaty heap. Joel’s face is slightly flushed and his chest rises with each ragged breath he takes. 
Fuck, he’s handsome. Salt and pepper hair, creases around his eyes, a hooked nose and a huge cock make him the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. 
The second he releases your hands, you drag your fingers down his hairy chest and over his soft belly. He’s hard and soft, muscular from working outside but with a belly that you want to lay your head on. 
He moves your hand away, linking his fingers through one of yours and uses his other hand to bump the tip of his length at your entrance. You try, in a small voice that’s just about surrendered to the lust swirling in your head, to stop Joel, suddenly remembering that this is not your house, but your sister’s. 
“Joel, my sister is inside–” 
He tsks in disappointment. “She’s gone for the week,” he interrupts, swirling the tip of his cock on your clit, “don’t lie to me, babydoll.”
Your mouth opens to ask how exactly he knows that, but Joel takes that moment to slide right in. A high-pitched squeal claws its way out of your mouth at the stretch of his cock. 
Joel groans, sounding almost pained. His eyes shut and his mouth drops open while you fight to push him off of you. You forgot just how large he was, and even if your cunt is slick and this isn’t the first time, it’s still a little painful. 
Joel places your hand above your head, still keeping his fingers linked, and uses his other hand to push up your thigh. His nose brushes yours and he gives you a soft kiss.  
He rocks his hips slowly, pushing his tongue into your mouth and matching the pace. You don’t kiss him back, too preoccupied with the cock spearing inside of you and the loss of air in your lungs. 
“Too much–”, you mumble, “too much!” 
Joel moves his lips down your chin, the tip of his tongue dragging a hot path down your neck. Goosebumps erupt on your skin as you try to catch your breath. Each thrust of his hips make you lightheaded. 
“No,” Joel murmurs into your neck, “you can take it, babydoll. Take it like a good girl.”  
With your free hand you try to push at his hips, for him to just give you a moment to breathe. Joel quickly takes your other hand and places it above your head, locking both of your wrists in his grasp. 
Your tits are in Joel’s face, pushed up by the arch of your back. Joel takes full advantage and runs his tongue over your swollen nipples. 
You’re not speaking coherently anymore. Between your pleas for him to slow down, please you whine with each hard thrust into your pussy. 
“Fuckin’ greedy,” Joel groans, “pussy keeps suckin’ me right back in.” 
“You’re so fucking nasty,” you mumble in half-hearted anger. 
But he’s right. Your pussy flutters with each slide of his cock and your thighs bracket his hips, keeping him as close as possible.
The thick head of his cock bumps your womb and you’re almost certain he’s growing bigger inside of you. You can smell him, his cologne and sweat, the scent of a man who spends his time working outside with his hands. 
If Joel were any other man, you’d hate the smell. But with him, it’s intoxicating. 
The first time together was quick, in his front yard where you were forced to stay quiet and take whatever he gave you. Now, your whimpers are loud and he’s in no rush to finish quickly. 
“Gonna breed this little cunt,” Joel slurs, “gonna make you a mommy.”
His hips move faster and tears begin to fall from the corner of your eyes. Joel invades your space and kisses every inch of skin he can reach. Imprints of his teeth and his saliva are left on your neck, tits, and mouth. 
“You want that babydoll? Wanna make me a daddy?” 
Any other man, especially one who is practically a stranger would make you cringe. But Joel’s breeding kink doesn’t phase you. You fall into the fantasy of him cumming inside of you and giving you a baby. 
He pushes his tongue almost down your throat while he fucks you. You kiss him back and suck his tongue on instinct. He whimpers, a sound that makes your pussy tighten in response.  
“Jesus–,” Joel groans. 
“Joel, please,” you whimper, “m–more, please!” 
The chair shakes with each of his thrusts, just about able to hold your combined weight. Joel lets go of your hands and leans back to watch his cock slide into you, seemingly mesmerized at the sight. 
Your hands reach for his sweaty chest, arms, caressing his heated skin. Joel pushes your thighs open and you hear every sticky, wet slide of his cock.
He’s suddenly sliding a hand underneath your neck. 
“Look, babydoll,” Joel gasps. 
You don’t pay him much attention, your eyes barely able to focus on his face.   
“C’mon–fuck.” 
You lean up on your elbows with the little energy you have left and watch his length, veiny and large, covered in your slick, piston in and out of you. 
If it didn’t feel so good, it would be almost scary to look at. Joel, so much larger and stronger than you, somehow able to fit so perfectly inside of you. 
You fall back on the lounge chair and Joel places your ankle on his shoulder. He turns his head to nip your soft skin, leaving another imprint of his teeth on your body. 
He pushes his thumb inside of your mouth and doesn’t even flinch as you bite down. 
“I almost drove down to that college of yours,” he moans, “wanted to drag you outta the dorm and fuck you in the hallway.” 
You moan around his thumb, lost in the fantasy of big, broad Joel dragging you by the hair and fucking you out in the open, in front of everyone to see. 
His words are slurred at this point. But he's so drunk on pure lust that he can’t help himself but keep talking. 
“Wanted to show everyone who owns this slut pussy.”  
The way he speaks to you should make you angry, but you pussy only flutters and squeezes as he calls you his little slut.
He removes his thumb from your mouth and gently slaps your cheek before swiping his spit-covered thumb over your clit. 
He swipes over your swollen bud, once, twice, using your spit and slick that now covers both of your lower bodies.
Your orgasm tears through you, washing over you in warm waves of bliss. 
Joel keeps fucking you, moving faster until his hips piston and you're being used as a toy while your orgasm courses through your body. 
He lays on top of you, keeping your thrashing and whimpering body bracketed onto the chair. Joel’s moans grow loud in your ear and you know he’s close. 
“Not inside–” you whimper, “don’t cum–” your words not having any real meaning behind them except to add to your fantasy. 
“Fuckin’ mine, my little cunt,” Joel snaps, “gonna cum in my babydoll–” 
He swells impossibly larger inside of you and then you feel it, the hot splash of cum. Ropes and ropes fill your cunt and he grinds his cock into you, buries his head in your neck and groans your name over and over again. 
Your body, still recovering from your orgasm from only a few moments ago, trembles once more. The warmth of his cum painting your womb shakes another one out of you. 
You’re not sure how long it lasts. Joel continues to whisper in your ear about how fuckin’ sweet you are and how you have the tiniest cunt ever, babydoll while his cock fills you with cum. 
Joel continues to lay on top of you and while he’s larger in every sense of the way, his weight is comforting. The setting sun is blocked by the canopy which you're grateful for because you don’t want him to move. 
“How are ya’ feeling?” Joel asks. 
You’ve almost fallen asleep at this point. 
“Full… and sore,” you whisper. 
“Maybe this time I’ll actually knock you up,” Joel whispers, placing a kiss on your forehead. 
You roll your eyes and push him off of you. 
“Not going to happen, old man. I’m on birth control. And we just met!"
“Shame,” he sighs dramatically. “How about I grill us some steaks?” 
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flamingpudding · 5 months ago
Text
Bat dad meet Ghost dad
Several years earlier....
"JAAAAAAZZZZZZZZ!" Danny flew excited through the Ghost Zone with a little kid in his arms rushing past some of his former rogues as he made a B-Line for his sister that happened to be in the Zone too, currently in a deep conversation with Frostbite about something Danny hadn't cared to pay attention to long enough. But right now he had exciting news he really wanted to share with his sister. Even now as adults Danny tented to live out his childishness whenever he could especially when he and his family went into the Ghost Zone.
The Halfa came to a screeching halt as he grined brightly at his sister who looked back at him with a raised eyebrow, slightly amused at her younger brothers giddiness. "What is it Danny?"
"I got a son now!" Danny declared happily holding up a young ghost teen by the armpits into his sisters face.
The 'son' in Danny's hands stared at Jazz blinking owlishly as if the teen boy still needed a moment to catch up with what was going on and Jazz blinked back at the ghost and then at Danny. That was not a child but a teen ghost. Going by the size the kid was probably around 14 or 15 and he looked very much traumatised and Jazz could not tell if that was because of Danny or because of how the teen possible died.
"Danny what did you-" Her brother did not let her finish her question as he started rambling excitedly.
"He is a baby ghost Jazz! Look how young he is! I found him floating around aimlessly, his hunt hasn't even fully formed yet and when i picked him up there was that instant connection! You know the same-"
"Danny."
"I have with Clockwork and Pandora! I instantly knew he was mine! Mine to protect! Mine to guide! When I saw him I swear I just knew, I ghost adopted him the moment I made contact! He is family Jazz-"
"Danny."
"I just know he belongs with us! Look at him and tell me he doesn't have Fenton charms! I am sure Dan and Dani will love him too! He is such a cute little ghost! There is so much I can teach him! I will be the best dad ever to this wonderful little baby ghost! And-"
"Daniel William James Fenton!"
Danny bite his tongue instantly silenced when Jazz pulled out the full name call. Both him and the teen in his arms stared at her a bit shell shocked and in that moment Jazz couldn't help but hide a small amused smile at how similar Danny and the teen in his arms looked when they stared at her.
"Did you explain any of this to him?" She indicated to the teen, who's name she by the way still didn't know. Danny at least had the curtesy to look a little ashamed as Jazz pointed that out and let go of the teen so they could float on their own. She sighed with a fond smile before looking at the teen that looked a bit unsure between her and Danny now.
"What's your name?" She asked them with a friendly and encouraging smile.
"Jason...."
Current time...
Jason was in a little bit of a predicament. Originally he really thought he never would end up in this kind of situation espacially since he didn't think he would patch up things with Bruce any time soon. But we'll here he was...
Life liked proofing him wrong.
Like with he fact that Jason could use a ghost wail in dire situation. And that something like that would naturally call his ghost dad onto the scene since he collapsed after it.
And like with how he woke up in the bat caves med bay with both Danny and Bruce standing over him and glaring at each other. Or at least he thought they were glaring at each other that looked like a pretty annoyed stare in his eyes from Danny and Bruce's jaw was really tense from what was visible and not covered by his cowl.
So all Jason could do was endure at the moment. Aaaaand refuse to make eye contact with any of his present siblings. Mainly Dick because he wasn't sure how to interpret the others' smiles. For a moment Jason wondered if he could hide out in his ghost-dad's castle in the Ghost Zone for a while until whatever storm was brewing with Bruce was over.
There was also a moment in which Jason wondered if there could have been anything done to avoid this... confrontation(?). Before feeling the need to face palm because his Aunt that sort of has been giving him free therapy told him repeatedly that communication was key. He never regretted not listening to her more than he was right now.
To be fair. Communication with Bruce espacially hadn't been his strong suit for a while now before and after his death.
"So you are his Bat-Dad?" Jason did not like the way Danny, his ghost dad was using the word 'dad' right now. Oh good was he trying to challenge Bruce?
"And you are his Ghost-Dad?" Bruce grunted, oh now Jason was sure Bruce was giving Danny a glare, and Danny was getting that protective look in his eyes Jason was all to familiar with from his time as a dead baby ghost.
He groaned loudly sinking lower onto the medbed. Why did these things always have to happen to him? At least he was lucky that his Ghost Aunt and Uncle didn't show up too.
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aquaticmercy · 24 days ago
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Temple
Summary : Bucky Barnes is struggling to say ‘I love you,’ so he says other things to make sure you know he cares.
Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her) 
Warnings/tags : description of violence.
Requested by : myself
Word count : 1.1k
Note : This was inspired by the song ‘Temple’ by Kings of Leon. I am going to alternate between my own ideas and a request every day. Please bear with me! I have a lot of requests in my inbox, so it might take a while to get to you. Enjoy!
Requests are open!
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The night was your favourite time of the day.
Especially the summer nights, where you had nothing to do but bask in the warmth and the moonlight that casted a silver light over the skyline. 
You and Bucky sat side by side on the fire escape of your apartment, legs dangling over the edge, the usual quiet between you familiar and comfortable. 
Over the past year, he had become your best friend, if not something more. 
It wasn’t that you didn't care for each in that sense— you most definitely did. You’ve been seeing each other exclusively for the past couple of months, and you just haven't put a label on this yet. You didn’t want to rush it. You both wanted it to find its course. Letting it be natural.
You took a deep breath, letting the silence wash over you. It was moments like these that you treasure most with Bucky. The calm. The peace. The rare softness in his presence.
He shifted beside you, metal arm bumping softly against the railing, letting out a gentle clink. You turned to him, watching his brow furrowing, as if he was wrestling with something underneath his tough exterior. 
This was not unusual; Bucky was a man of few words when it comes to how he felt. It did not matter to you much that he struggled to say the words aloud, since he showed you in a thousand ways that he cares. 
You watched him a little closer. There was something on his mind—something he’s been holding onto. You didn’t need to ask, but could feel it.
“You okay, Buck?” you asked softly, nudging his arm with your elbow. “You’re quiet tonight.”
He didn’t respond right away. He stared out at the city, eyes distant. Then he exhaled sharply, like he'd just made up his mind about something.
“I’d take a bullet in the temple for you,” he said. His voice was low and grounded. He had thought this through, his tone leaving no room for argument.
You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by how… intense his statement was. 
It was not the first time he had said something like this. Bucky had always had a strange way of expressing how much you meant to him. It always caught you by surprise.
“I’d die for you,” he continued. His beautiful blue eyes softened, gaze still locked on the night sky. “If anyone tried to hurt you, I’d hunt them down and make them pay.”
Your mouth curved into a sweet smile, though it was a bit bittersweet. 
He had always done this— he said the most visceral, violent things to make sure you know how much you meant to him. Still, you have accepted that this was his way of expressing his feelings, even if it wasn’t what you expected when you first fell for him.
“I know you would,” you replied softly. You reached out and placed your fingers on top of his human hand, hoping you could ground him in the moment. “But you don’t have to die for me, Bucky.”
He finally looked at you, eyes flickering with a vulnerability you rarely ever say. He clenched his jaw, as if he were fighting to keep whatever it is he really meant inside, where it would be safe and sound.
“But I would,” he insisted. His voice was barely above a whisper now. “I’d give up everything if it meant keeping you safe.”
Your heart raced at the sincerity in his tone. He meant every word— you know that. You couldn’t help the ache in your chest, knowing that he was struggling to string his thoughts together into a cohesive, normal sentence.
“I don’t need you to sacrifice yourself for me,” you said gently. You brushed your thumb over the back of his hand in soft circles. “I just need you.”
He watched you for a long moment, the small flame of frustration growing behind his blue eyes. 
“If I lost you…” His breath hitched at the mere thought of it. His metal fingers clenched into a fist at his side. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’d burn the world down for you. I’d… I’d die before I let that happen.”
You sighed softly, squeezing his hand, trying to soothe the burning tension that radiated off him. He had always been so ready to protect you, to throw himself into the line of fire without a second thought. And while you appreciated his fierce loyalty, you didn’t want him to bear the weight of your safety like it was the only way to prove he cared.
“I’m not going anywhere, Buck,” you reassured him. You placed your head on his shoulders, taking in the scent of his vanilla aftershave, the one you liked so much. “You don’t have to go to those extremes to show me how you feel.”
He turned silent again. You could almost see the cogs turning in his mind. His lips parted again, hesitating only a little bit.
“I’d… I’d take a knife to the gut for you,” he said finally, his voice strained. “I’d let them—”
“Bucky,” You cut him off with a sigh, a hint of exasperation in it. “Stop. Please.”
He froze, staring at you like you had just pulled the rug out from under him.
“I get it. I really do.” You shook your head gently, turning to face him. You searched his eyes, trying to reach the part of him that’s been so afraid to tell you exactly how he felt. “But you don’t have to say it like that.”
He swallowed hard, and for the first time in a long time, you saw fear in his eyes.
The fear of not being enough, of saying the wrong thing. The fear of messing this up.
It was heartbreaking. You wished you could make him understand that he doesn’t need to bleed out to prove his affection for you.
“I just…” His voice cracked, and looking away again. His jaw tensed. “I don’t know how to say it.”
You took a sharp inhale, the realisation crashing onto you like a wave.
All those graphic, violent declarations of loyalty—they were his way of telling you he loved you.
He had been struggling to say something so simple, so human.
“I love you too, Bucky,” you finally whispered.
His eyes found yours, widening in surprise. 
You reached out, cupping his cheek, brushing your thumb over the rough stubble on his jawline. You finally understood. “I- I already know.”
He leaned into your touch, eyes closing briefly, finally letting himself believe what he knew to be true all along. When he opened them again, there was something more vulnerable in his gaze. 
“I’m trying,” he admitted quietly.
You smiled, leaning in to press the gentlest kiss to his lips. “I know.” 
And for now, that’s enough.
-end
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talekinesis · 1 month ago
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I need Stan and Ford to see their mom again
Like let's say she's still alive and in her 80s, she's in a wheelchair (ambulatory, she has customized canes) she still lives in their old home because a part of her hoped Stanford would come back, and she didn't want to leave their home, so he'd know where to go back to.
She wanted to stay put in case Ford came back.
So imagine her shock when both her boys come back home to her
Obviously Stan immediately starts apologizing for faking his death, putting her through grief, her arranging and attending his funeral, but she stops him like "I'd much rather it be fake than real." That's her baby boy, back from the dead, something most people don't get, so to her it's a miracle.
Her Jersey accent is thick, and it actually brings out the twins' accents that had faded over time (Stan's sounds natural to him since he always retained it a little, but everyone finds it funny when Ford's accent comes back because he just doesn't seem like the type to speak like that)
THEY MOVE HER INTO THE SHACK
The boys wanna take care of their mama and keep her around since it's been so long, and Caryn is delighted to be moved out of a loud city with rough memories and into a quiet little town where the people are odd but nice. Ford and Stan both work together to make the Shack accessible for her. Ford actually sat in her wheelchair to test everything and make sure she could get around on her own.
They catch her up on everything, and at first they don't think she'll fully believe them but she's like "Stanford built an international portal and got lost for 30 years? Stanley took his place and turned his home into tourist trap? Yeah, that seems like something my boys would do."
When she learns Stan taught himself engineering to re-build the portal, she's obviously very proud of him. "You were never dumb, Stanley, ya just learned different. Honestly, I always thought ya had A-D-H-D but Pa never wanted ya tested. But look how smart and creative ya turned out, son! I think ya did good." And Stan is definitely not crying.
Personal headcanon: Caryn was also really smart and picked up on things quick. The boys had to have gotten it from somewhere, and it wasn't Filbrick. He just took the credit because 1) he was the worst, and 2) times were different back then and no one would have really taken her seriously. But she's the one who would fix things around the house since she taught herself how to keep the place together and running since Filbrick wouldn't pay anyone to come and repair anything.
Imagine little Stan standing behind her with a flashlight while she fixes the wiring in the wall because an outlet stopped working. Both of the boys helping her while she fixes the car for the third time that week because it keeps breaking down. Mama Pines taught herself how to keep things up and running because no one else would or could.
Caryn meets Mabel and Dipper when they come back in the summer, and Mabel is THRILLED
She's technically met them before but they were still newborns at the time so they don't remember her, and she hadn't gotten a chance to see who they'd become
Mabel makes her a sweater and she wears it with pride. And I really think it would go like that scene from Elemental
Caryn: You made this?
Mabel: Oh, yeah, it's nothing-
Caryn: Nothin? Babygirl, my designer dresses were made by 'nothin.' Oh sweetie, you have got to do somethin' with this skill. And to think, I have an original 'Mabel Pines.'
And don't think I'm leaving Dipper out of this, he gets his great-grandma's attention too. She loves talking to him and listening to him tell stories about the monsters they've encountered in the past. She sees a lot of Ford in him, but she also sees a lot of Stan in him in other ways.
I think Dipper's love for "girly" music is something Stan used to share before Filbrick "disciplined" him for it. Child Stan used to sit in the kitchen with his Ma and sing along to the radio, usually listening to whatever she had put on.
Now all three of them sit in the kitchen and listen to the radio while Stan cooks.
Ford feeling like a failure for putting everyone in danger, and Caryn just goes, "Come talk to your mama." And he does. He goes and talks to his mama, like he always has in the past. She's in her 80s and they're grown men in their late 50s, but she's still their mom, and you never really quit being a mom.
I might actually write a short fic about this, I love it so much.
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morganski-19 · 7 months ago
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Eddie was still in the coma, attached to so many tubes it made Wayne sick to look at sometimes. But they were keeping him alive, so he’ll manage. They were making sure he got to see his boy awake again.
There was still a metal cuff that was attached to his wrist. The other end attached to the bar of the hospital bed. As if he could spring up at any moment and just escape. When he’s been half dead for days. When Wayne hasn’t seen his eyes open since before Eddie went into hiding. 
He hasn’t seen his boy for over a full week. Even though he’s been lying there on the bed for the last few days. Eddie won’t be back with Wayne until he wakes up. If he wakes up.
Everyday Wayne’s been here in between his shifts. Can’t afford to take the days off, with having to get a new place and all. Part of his paycheck’s paying for the hotel room he’s staying in while trying to find somewhere new to live. Even the abandoned houses are too pricy, and the trailer park’s in shambles. 
Honestly, if he could, he’d be pulling as many doubles as possible just to get a new place and soon. But that would mean not being here. Might miss when he wakes up. Wayne doesn’t want to miss that. 
It’s not like he’s lonely here either. There’s been other visitors. The kid that Eddie always talked about from his dungeon game. The one that he secretly liked above the rest of the freshmen. His bandmates came by once, looking guilty as hell when they did. They haven’t been back since. 
There’s been a few other people Wayne hasn’t recognized. A few more kids from the club, some he didn’t even know Eddie knew. But they always came to check in before heading across the hall to see the boy there. The Harrington boy. 
Wayne recognized it was him one day when the door was left open. He was asleep, with an IV in his arm along with some other cords. Not as many as his boy, but still there. There was a girl in there too, short brown hair and wearing a baggy jacket with some patches. She was holding his hand. It never seemed like she let it go. 
The same girl checked in on Eddie a few times. Tried to make small talk with Wayne but left when she realized he was disinterested. Always heading back to the Harrington boy. 
All he knew is that they both came in at the same time. Got admitted one after the other, but Wayne didn’t know what order. That they both had to go through some type of surgery to deal with the injuries. Though he hears Harrington’s was more cosmetic than anything. Eddie’s was to save his life. 
Not that he’s judging. People could do whatever they wanted for all he cared. There were different doctor’s for different things. Priorities and all that. He just hoped that Harringotn wasn’t higher up on the list than Eddie was. Eddie was clearly the one in the worst condition. 
The kid that kept visiting Eddie went over there a lot too. Dustin, is the kid’s name. Wayne can’t remember it half the time, he’s too busy focusing on something else. And just bone tired. But after Dustin sits next to Wayne for a while, updates Eddie on everything that’s happened that day, sometimes reads to him, he heads right across the hall and does it all again. Every single time. 
Wayne has no clue how this boy could possibly be close with both Eddie and the Harrington kid. It’s not like they were in the same circles. Or seemed to remotely like each other at all. Wayne can explicitly remember the Harrington boy being apart of one of Eddie’s hate filled rampages. But if he’s remembering right, there was something different that really pissed Eddie off about him. Something that’s wrapped up in the same reason Wayne’s never seen Eddie bring a girl home. 
But day after day, Dustin goes to Steve’s room after stopping by Eddie. Wayne can see why Eddie liked Dustin. He’s loud and dramatic just like Eddie. Likes the same game, same books, even starting to like the same music. But Dustin and the Harrington boy. He doesn’t get it. 
Until he’s walking down the hall to get a cup of coffee and hears it. The bickering that leads into laughter. Snippy comments about something filled with inside jokes. Suddenly it all makes sense. They almost seem like brothers. 
It’s a few more days until Wayne meets the Harrington boy himself. A nurse coming to check Eddie’s vitals leaves the door open on accident. Harrington peaks through when he’s on a walk down the hallway. 
“Why is he handcuffed?” is the first thing Wayne hears from the kid. Voice filled with anger. 
Before Wayne can get annoyed at explaining the whole situation to another stranger, explain how he knows his boy is innocent, the nurse is yelling at him. 
“You can’t be in here, sir.”
“I don’t give a shit. Why is he handcuffed? He didn’t do anything wrong.”
Wayne is surprised that he’s not the one making the case this time. Somehow, this kid he’s never met believes his nephew is innocent. Just like he does. 
The nurse snaps her folder shut, walking up to Steve and waving for help through the door. “That is private information. Go back to your room before you’re forced to.”
Steve rolls his eyes with a snarl, undoing the buttons on the front of his hospital shirt. “He didn’t give me these. He didn’t kill those kids. I know, I was there.” He begins to pull back the bandages, revealing scarred, mauled skin that looks just like Eddies. The nurse scolds him to stop. “He’s innocent, so why is he handcuffed to the bed?”
“He is still a suspect and deemed dangerous. Now get back to your room.”
More another nurse grabs Steve’s arm to try and pull him to his room. He shakes it off. 
“Dangerous,” his voice raises. “He’s been in a coma for days and you think he’s dangerous. What is he going to do, pop up out of bed like he hasn’t been fucking asleep for days and almost died just to run away? He couldn’t do that if he tried.”
Security gets involved now, physically pushing Steve out of the doorway. The nurse shuts the door to Eddie’s room, cutting Wayne off from seeing it. She apoligized for the intrusion and gets back to checking on Eddie. 
“He’s right, you know,” Wayne says, still hearing the noise from the hall. “My boy didn’t do nothin’ wrong. Can’t escape even if he tried. Or attack anyone for that matter. He’s been through enough, he doesn’t need to wake up to a cuff around his wrist.”
The nurse purses her lips, strained. “This is from above me, sir. But if the news is true, the cuffs are staying on.”
When the nurse opens the door again, the hall is clear. 
The next time Wayne sees Harrington is when he leaves for the day. Only able to fall asleep so many times in a shitty hospital chair before needing to go home. Security presses for him to stay in his room, warning him. 
“Just going to make a fucking phone call. I’m allowed to do that right?” When the security guard crosses his arms, the kid hits him with, “Don’t want me to get my dad involved, do you? Isn’t he one of the main donors for this hospital? Be such a shame if he stopped.”
Wayne almost laughs when the security guard moves out of the way. Harrington giving him the finger with a smirk as he walks down the hall to the payphone. 
Maybe Eddie and the Harrington kid had more in common than Wayne thought. 
now with a part 2
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itneverendshere · 26 days ago
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we say we’re different but we got the same eyes - r.c
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pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe
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you needed to stop taking other people shift’s. 
it’s not like you wanted to, but at least they were paying you to do so, enough to let you actually chill this summer without stressing about rent or whatever else adulthood decided to throw at you.
all you had to do was show up and do the job. first at lila’s dinner, now at the bougie country club, as a cart girl.
you’d done this before, and sure, the old men were always a little too handsy with their beer guts hanging over their tacky polos, but at least they tipped well. you could tolerate them. smile, giggle at their half-assed jokes, and let them feel like they still had it. 
fine. pay me for my pain, grandpa. 
today however, instead of your usual sugar-daddy wannabes, you were babysitting frat boys. fresh out of their first year of college, probably still hungover from their last keg stand.
nineteen-year-old idiots in pastel shorts and backwards hats, making everything about themselves.
“bro, you remember that party at kappa? dude, swear i blacked out after like, five shots.”
wow, five whole shots? congrats, you absolute child. should i get you a sticker for that?
don’t even get started on their conversations about girls. one of them, chad or brad or whatever his stupid name was, just had to loudly detail how some poor innocent girl “totally wanted him last night but was playing hard to get.”
yeah, bro, she was probably just trying to get through the night without having to mace your entitled ass.
it was constant. the whole damn morning. all they talked about was frat parties, girls they didn’t deserve, and how they "couldn’t wait to get back to school."
you'd give anything to remind them how utterly irrelevant their frat status was in the real world, but you couldn’t. nope. you had to keep your game face on, pour their drinks, and pretend like they weren’t giving you a headache that rivaled your worst hangovers.
at least the elderly snobs tipped well. sure, they were pretentious and acted like you were beneath them, but they'd slip you a twenty or more with a smug little wink. that made it easier to tolerate their "i’ve been golfing here since before you were born" bullshit.
but these brats?
half the time they forgot to tip at all, and when they did remember, it was a crumpled five like they were doing you some grand favor. and of course, of course, they couldn’t just keep their obnoxious, beer-breath comments to themselves. no, they had to make it worse by hitting on you—hard. 
painfully hard. it was like watching a car crash in slow motion, except instead of pulling over to help, you were stuck right in the middle, praying someone would just tow your ass out.
“yo, what’s your name again?” one of them asks. bryce, probably. his face just screams bryce.
he's leaning against the cart like he thinks it's going to make him look cool, but really, he’s just sloshing his drink all over the place. classy.
“it’s on my name tag,” you deadpan, pointing to the little badge pinned to your polo. you're not about to give him any more than that.
but he's not letting it go. “oh yeah? cute name for a cute girl. you single or what?”
jesus christ. here we go.
you resist the urge to roll your eyes so hard they’d get stuck in the back of your head. 
“’m here to work,” you sigh, voice sweet enough to mask the absolute disdain you're feeling. you know what comes next.
they always think they can charm you if they just keep going, like you are some kind of challenge.
“c’mon, don’t be like that,” another one chimes in, this one wearing sunglasses even though it's barely 9 a.m.
who do you think you are, pitbull? 
he gives you this sleazy grin like he thinks he's smoother than he actually is. “we could take you out after your shift. grab a drink. bet you’re fun, huh?”
fun? FUN?! if by fun he means fantasizing about driving this cart straight into the water hazard just to escape this conversation, then sure, you're a real blast.
you look around the course, hoping maybe one of the older golfers needs a refill or something—anything to get you away from this nightmare. no luck. it's just you and these clowns.
“i don’t date customers,” you say, a line you’d perfected at this point.
you plaster on your fakest smile, the kind that said please tip me and then leave me the hell alone. but bryce wasn’t giving up.
“you’re really gonna turn us down? i mean, we’re the best thing on this course right now.”
best thing?
the only thing they're the best at seems to be embarrassing themselves. this is the type of guy who probably thinks buying a girl a drink meant she owns him something.
you can't even be mad; it's almost... sad. almost.
“maybe you should focus on your game,” you suggest, glancing at his scorecard. “you’re, what, ten over par already?”
that shuts him up real quick, his face going from cocky to confused like he didn't expect you to know how golf worked.
his friend with the sunglasses? he's still trying.
“we can show you a good time, y’know. we’ve got a house down on the beach. you like boats?”
ah, yes. the boat move. the go-to for guys who think a half-assed yacht and a cooler full of cheap beer is the height of luxury.
you’d seen it a million times in this godforsaken town.
you're not impressed.
you shoot them another smile, “i like tips.”
they all blink confusedly, clearly not used to a girl calling them out so directly. the frat boys mumble something between themselves, looking awkward for the first time all day.
finally, one of them fishes a crumpled twenty out of his pocket and tosses it your way. 
oh, wow, big spender. 
you scoop it up, shoving it into your pocket and giving them a little nod. “thanks, boys. good luck with your game.”
you thought the twenty bucks might’ve bought you a few minutes of peace, but no. they're back at it, swinging at golf balls like they aren't trying to flirt in between their awful shots.
you roll the cart over to the next part of the course, half-listening to their constant chatter.
something about “last semester” this, and “pledge party” that. god, they just never stop. it's like someone hit the repeat button on the world’s most annoying playlist.
one of them calls you over again, like he can't wait five minutes for his next drink. you start prepping them, half tuning them out, just trying to get through it, when suddenly, miraculously, they shut the hell up.
for a second, you think maybe the universe is finally doing you a favor. you don't even question it, just start pouring drinks faster.
a quiet frat boy is a gift. but then you hear it:
“dude!” one of them practically tackles the other, all wide-eyed and hyped up like a little kid who just saw his favorite cartoon character. “is that rafe fucking cameron?!”
oh, for fuck’s sake.
your stomach drops. of course it has to be him. because clearly, your morning isn't being shitty enough. you don't even look at first. 
one of the guys starts flipping out, hitting his buddy’s shoulder like it's the coolest thing to ever happen.
“bro, no way. no way. that’s rafe cameron? he used to be the president of our frat, man. two years ago! he’s a fucking legend!”
legend? you almost laugh.
the only legend rafe is to you it's a legendary asshole. a smug, infuriating, gorgeous asshole who you have been avoiding like the plague. the same one who has been blowing up your phone nonstop, trying to get back into your life.
the same one you swore down you’d never sleep with again after he pulled that stunt at the dinner—and then, of course, ended up in his bed two nights ago. you haven't spoken to him since. you’d been ignoring him again—well, trying to—but now here he is. in the flesh. and these idiots are drooling over him like he's some kind of frat god.
you turn your head, and he's striding across the green like he doesn't have a care in the world. of course he looks good. he always does.
wayfarer’s pushed up in his hair, that cocky-ass grin on his face, wearing a polo like he's the face of a country club catalog. you know he’d see you any second. hell, he probably already has. 
yeah, you’d been avoiding him, and yeah, maybe you’d blocked his number twice, but that didn’t stop him from calling with a different one. or from somehow finding you the other night at the party when you were weak enough to let him back in, only to get burned again.
“holy shit, he’s coming this way,” one of the frat boys mutters, shaking with excitement.
you don't move, don't acknowledge him. but you can feel his eyes on you. it's like a sixth sense at this point. you'd crave it so much before, when it was all a silly game in your head, see how much you could push until he cracked and gave into you. now it's a curse.
the boys are watching him approach like he's some kind of celebrity.
“should we say something to him?” one whispers. “i heard he’s like, killing it in the business world now. family’s loaded.”
yeah, you think bitterly. killing it. if you count being a trust fund brat as an accomplishment.
rafe's closer now, and you know this moment is inevitable. the frat boys are giddy, already nudging each other, probably ready to beg him for networking advice or whatever the hell frat bros did.
you keep your eyes down, focusing on pouring the drinks, acting like you don't even notice him. like he doesn't phase you in the slightest.
“hey,” a familiar voice drawls. you don't have to lift your head to know it's him. naturally, he stops right by you. because why wouldn’t he?
“rafe fucking cameron!” one of the guys yells, unable to keep it together anymore. “you’re like a legend, man. kappa forever!”
you never cringed so hard in your life.
rafe smirks, that signature look spreading across his face. “yeah, somethin' like that.”
you clench your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your face neutral. no way in hell are you about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he still gets to you. 
everyone else around you are tripping over their words just to get his attention. it's embarrassing to watch. the kids acting like he's some kind of messiah, not just some white rich guy with a trust fund and a bad attitude half the time.
“man, the outer banks is fucking sick,” one of them says, bouncing on his feet like an overexcited puppy. “we’ve been hitting the beaches, bars, y’know, living it up. and bro, the girls here? smoking hot.”
here we go. 
you pretend to be very invested in the cooler, rearranging the ice just to keep your hands busy. they're about to start pointing at you any second now; you can sense it.
the way they keep looking over at you made it obvious they're gearing up for something.
and then, like clockwork, it happens.
“yeah, man,” one of them gestures way too enthusiastically in your direction. “that cart girl over there? we’ve been trying all morning.”
oh, fuck right off, you resist the urge to throw a bottle at him.
you’d rather die than hear what lame pickup line is coming next, but what you really don't want to hear is whatever rafe's about to say.
there was a pause, as if he's taking a second to let it sink in. and when he finally does speak, his voice is all smooth confidence, casual as anything.
“so,” he starts, still with smirk you hate and know so well, “you’ve met my girl?”
my girl? my fucking girl?
one of them, manages to stammer, “uh—wait, she’s… she’s your girl?”
you can feel the tension creeping up the back of your neck. this's exactly why you’ve been avoiding him.
no matter what happened between you, no matter how messy things got, he always acted like he owned you in private. never in front of his friends, like just because you ended up in his bed, you were his to claim whenever he felt like it.
still keeping your eyes glued to the drinks, you feel your blood boil. you aren't his fucking girl. you're barely on speaking terms, aside from that one weak moment.
he's only saying it to mess with you.
one of the frat boys lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “damn, man. didn’t know you were still pulling like that.” he shoots a glance at you again, not even bothering to hide the once-over.
rafe just chuckles, that low, infuriating laugh of his, like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. “what can i say?” he drawls, as if the whole thing is just a game to him. “guess i’ve still got it.”
you're this close—this close—to snapping. you can feel your fists clenching at your sides. you're not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. not here. not in front of these frat boys who're still looking at you like some kind of trophy.
rafe’s voice is closer now. you don't have to look up to know he's standing right by the cart.
“you good over there?” he asks, that fake casual tone still lingering.
you don't answer. just kept doing your job, biting the inside of your cheek so hard it hurts. but he isn't going to let it go. he never did when he wanted to prove a point.
“hey, baby.” he greets you again, leaning in slightly. you can feel his eyes burning into the side of your face. “you gonna pretend you don’t know me now?”
you take a deep breath, finally turning to face him. he's standing way too close, sunglasses pushed up on his head, that stupid expression plastered across his face.
the frat boys are all watching, wide-eyed, like they just stumbled onto some kind of reality show drama.
“you’re funny, cameron.” the guys all exchange glances, clearly picking up on the tension but too dumb to understand it, “can you guys give us a minute?”
one of them pipes up with an awkward laugh, “wait, but we—”
you don't let him finish. “one. minute.” 
they finally catch on that it isn't a request and before they can awkwardly protest or ask why, rafe tilts his head towards them, craning his neck just enough to raise a single brow. the change in his posture is subtle but enough to have them clamming up instantly.
like magic, their frat-boy bravado melts right off. it's wild how fast a bunch of college boys can shrink under the gaze of someone like him.
the power trip they’ve been riding for the last hour stop.
“uh, yeah, you know what?” one of them coughs out, backing up so fast he almost trips over his golf bag. “we should, uh… we’ll hit the bathroom. real quick.”
“yeah, yeah, we’ll be right back,” another one adds, practically stumbling over himself to follow.
they scatter like scared puppies, tails tucked between their legs, and you can't help the small, satisfied smirk that twitches at the corner of your mouth.
finally, a moment of peace.
except, it's not peace. not with rafe standing there. 
as soon as the frat boys are out of earshot, you spin around, without thinking, you shove him in the chest with both hands, hard enough to catch him off guard. he stumbles back a step, his face twisting into a look of surprise.
"are you fucking crazy?" you snap, "do you not get the fucking hint, country club? i don’t want this. i don’t want you here, and i sure as hell don’t want your bullshit claims that ’m your girl in front of those idiots. leave. me. alone.”
he steadies himself, raising both hands as if trying to calm you down. “’m trying to be better, okay? ’m trying. i apologized the other night, didn’t i? ’m—”
“no, you didn’t!” you look at him like he's the dumbest man on earth, cutting him off, your hands balled into fists at your sides. “you didn’t apologize! you said i was overreacting, that i was being ‘dramatic.’ then, you fucked me and acted like that made it all better.”
his jaw tightens, and he takes a deep breath as he glances around the mostly empty golf course before his eyes move back to you, his voice low but firm. "that’s not how i meant it—"
“you always have an excuse,” you interrupt, stepping closer, not backing down. “every time, it’s the same thing. you think a half-assed apology or a night in bed makes up for the way you treat me in public? like ‘m just some thing you get to claim whenever you feel like it?"
he visibly recoils at the word you chose, like it hurts him, “i know,” he finally mutters “i know i was a dick at that dinner. but ’m trying, okay? i’ve been calling you, texting you—”
“i didn’t ask. am i that good in bed? go find someone else.”
rafe’s hand flies up to pinch the bridge of his nose, a frustrated sigh escaping him. he draggs his tongue against his cheek. his voice coming out clipped, “i don’t want someone else,” he grunts out, sounding more exasperated than ever. “jesus fucking christ.”
you let out a laugh, stepping back, eyes rolling.
“oh, right. that’s it? ’m really that good in bed, huh? that’s why you’re here?” you cross your arms, your tone biting, daring him to say otherwise. “that’s all this has ever been, right? physical. you don’t call unless you want something. so what now? why are you trying so hard? what the hell are you trying for?”
he doesn't respond right away, his fingers are digging into the bridge of his nose like he's trying to hold himself together. the silence continues, and you can see him wrestling with his words. he's never been the type to say what he was feeling.
everything is buried under layers of cocky bravado, that impenetrable wall he put up to keep everyone at arm’s length. including you.
finally, he dropps his hand and takes a step closer, his voice coming out rough like he's forcing the words out. “’m here because i don’t want someone else. i want you, alright? can you just get that through your fucking head?”
you scoff, “because i know you and won’t get attached?”
he snaps, raising his voice, “no! fuck, it’s not that simple.”
"not that simple?" your hands are shaking, and you accidentally knock over one of the bottles you’d been holding before, sending it tumbling to the ground. you don't bother picking it up.
“it’s pretty fucking simple. we’re just fucking. so, tell me, what exactly is complicated about that? you call, i come over, we have sex, and that’s it. so why the fuck do you start ignoring me in public like ’m some kind of fucking disease?”
rafe opens his mouth, but you don't spare him the chance to speak, you're on a roll, months of pent-up frustration. 
“i don’t give a fuck if you’re with someone else, rafe!” you can hear the bitterness dripping from every word. you're practically spitting them out, “what pisses me off is that you had the audacity—the fucking nerve—to ask me to stay that night. do you know how fucking stupid i felt? how the fuck do you think i felt when you acted like i didn’t exist the next day?”
you can feel your hands trembling again, the adrenaline making you shaky, cursing under your breath.
“for once, i was nice enough to care about you, to stay, and that’s the shit you pulled. treated me like a ghost. like i was nothing.”
he just stands there, staring at you, his jaw tight, but he doesn't say a word. his face is hard to read, but you don't care about his feelings. you're not done yet.
“i was fine with the sex. i was fine with leaving afterwards and then you had to go and fuck it all over.”
rafe’s blue eyes flash, and you can see the realization hit him, like he's connecting the dots too fast for your liking.
his brows furrow as he breathes out, “wait. you’re mad at me because i made you—” he hesitates, like the word is foreign in his mouth, “care for me?”
you let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “oh, for fuck's sake, country club. don't flatter yourself.”
“you always do that shit,” he points out, stepping closer “you never call me by my name when we’re having a serious conversation. it's almost like you’re running away.”
you arch an eyebrow, incredulous. “are you delusional? you’re the one acting like a child.”
“’m not being delusional. you only say my name in my room when it’s just the two of us.” he leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if he's trying to keep this moment between you, his blue eyes lock onto yours making your stomach twist. “’m clearly not the only one who’s pretending here; you’re just as bad.”
you feel the heat rush to your cheeks as you walk back, trying to create space, but he closes the distance with easy confidence.
“pretending? please. ‘m not the one playing house in my bedroom while acting like i don’t know you outside of it.”
rafe lets out a low, frustrated groan, running his hand through his hair like he's close to losing it. 
“god, you’re fucking infuriating,” he mutters, voice gruff, “you think i don’t fucking feel it too? you’re the only one pissed off, the only one confused?” his voice dipps lower in frustration. “i can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard i try. "
“oh, boo-fucking-hoo,” you mocked back, “must be so hard, huh? being obsessed with a girl you can’t even respect in public.”
his hand reaches out to grab your wrist. you gasp, not out of fear but because the heat of his touch awakes the resting butterflies in your stomach. you hate how much your skin reacts to him, how just the feel of his grip makes your brain go foggy and shut down.
“i do respect you,” he growls, as if you just insulted him, “i just—fuck.” his eyes dart between yours, as if searching for something. then, like clockwork, he points at your work uniform—the stupid polo and that absurdly short skirt that's practically a sin in itself.
“this,” he grits out, fingers gesturing to the tight polo that does absolutely nothing but make your boobs look way too inviting, “is not okay.”
you blink, pretending to be unaffected, but his words have a way of crawling under your skin.
“oh, right,” you nod sarcastically, even though your pulse has kicked up a notch. “blame my uniform, like that’s the reason you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”
rafe groans like you're causing him actual physical pain, his hands gripping the edge of the golf cart now, knuckles turning white.
“shit, yeah, i’ll blame the uniform,” he says, eyes blazing as he corners you. “that tiny-ass skirt, walking around in front of me all day, making me lose my goddamn mind.”
just like that, his hand slide right under your mini skirt, his fingers gripping a handful of your ass with a confidence that makes your breath hitch.
the sudden contact sends a rush of heat through you, and a soft gasp escapes your glossy lips.
that’s when he takes his chance.
with another low groan, rafe seizes the moment, pressing his body against yours, leaning down as he kisses you, his tongue sliding into your mouth, the kiss deepening in an instant.
it's not sweet—you can tell that now because you know that hidden part of him, you can tell the difference when it comes out. today he's desperate like he’s been waiting to it for days and can't take it anymore.
he's a starved man on a mission. it's a feverish mess of spit and teeth, his grip on you impossibly tight.
his hand still kneads your ass, blunt fingernails digging into your skin trying to keep you from bolting away. at the same time, his other hand slides up to your neck, firm but not enough to hurt, just enough to keep you locked in place—he's daring you to pull away, knowing full well you won't.
logic doesn't stand a chance against the way his lips move against yours, he's sucking all the fight from you.
his tongue slides against yours, and your stomach jumps at the sensation, making you gasp. you try to pull back for a second, needing air, needing space, but his grip on your neck tightens, holding you in place as his lips move against yours like he'll die if you stop.
and maybe he would. maybe he's just as messed up about all of this as you are.
rafe’s teeth scrape against your bottom lip, and right then and there, you know your panties are already ruined. you can't stop the small whimper that escapes your throat, and he moans at the sound, his hips pressing harder against yours, making you feel just how much he wants you.
“fuck,” he almost whines against your lips, like he's barely keeping himself from fucking you out there in the open, not giving a shit if anyone's watching. his hand on your neck glides around to the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he tuggs slightly, tilting your head back so he can kiss you even harder, his lips moving against yours in a way that makes it impossible to think straight. “you have no idea what you do to me.”
the truth is, you do. you know exactly what you do to him because he's doing the same thing to you.
but there's no way in hell you’ll admit that. not when he already has you completely under his spell, melting into his touch, drowning in the way he kisses you like he owns you.
you attempt to hold onto that edge of disdain you always throw his way when things get too personal. his breath is hot and ragged as he hovers.
his hand, still tangled in your hair, loosens slightly but stays there. it's so fucking unfair—the way he just sneaks under your skin, the way your body betrays you every time he gets close. you hate it.
especially with the way his fingers are already sliding up your bare thigh under that ridiculously skirt, as if he owns every single inch of you, like he has a goddamn right to touch you like that.
and instead of pushing him away like you should, you find yourself leaning into him. and fuck, the look in his eyes—all black, wild, like he it's his last shred of self-control—is enough to make your pulse skyrocket.
“asshole,” it comes out weak, pathetic and almost breathless, and you hate yourself for it.
“yeah,” he whispers back, lips brushing yours, his hand still in your hair, still holding you close. “but you like it.”
god, maybe you did.
the frat boys finally return, their laughter breaking the bubble that had you on a leash.
within seconds, you're pushing rafe’s hands away, stepping back as of them claps him on the back.
“we miss anything?”
“nah, just catchin’ up,” rafe said, brushing off the whole thing as if it's no big deal.
you, on the other hand, pick up one of the empty glasses, avoiding eye contact with any of them.
one of the guys chuckles. “man, you two… y’all good?”
no. not when there's the slightest of the slightest possibility that you're starting to feel something for him. not the stupid crush you had before, or the simple curiosity of figuring out how he was in bed. 
real, scary, big girl feelings. 
no way. not after everything. not after he pulled that same crap, acting like you didn’t know you in front of his friends, then turning around and getting all possessive when it suited him.
 “better than ever.”
eyes locked on rafe, you bite out the final blow.
“yeah, better than ever. just like every other fucking rich frat boy—using daddy’s money, pretending you’re a god. but deep down, you’re all the same. losers. why don’t you keep them company, huh? you’re all family after all.”
his blue eyes drop to the green field at the mention of his dad, but he keeps quiet despite realizing you’re doing this on purpose.
he’ll let you have this one because he knows it’s deserving. fuck he’d probably let you punch him in the face if you asked him to. 
you turn on your heel and walk away, leaving him behind, knowing you hit him exactly where it hurt.
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evansbby · 1 month ago
Text
𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬
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𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: stepdad!Ari Levinson x bratty!reader
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: STEPCEST, daddy kink, dark!Ari, non-con, dub-con, age gap (reader is in college, Ari is in his forties), extremely fucked up Ari, delusional!Ari, spanking, ROUGH spanking, ass eating, ass fingering, he is literally very obsessed with her ass, swearing, misogyny, spitting, manhandling, dirty talk, condescending dirty talk, Ari also babies her A LOT, 18+, minors dni.
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You stay out past curfew and your stepdad punishes you.
𝐀/𝐍: Final warning that this is extremely fucked up. Dead dove don't eat and all that. You've been warned. Enjoy.
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“Where were you last night?”
Ari’s voice is loud, carrying across his study out into the hallway where you stop with a start. His door is slightly ajar, and you can see him through the crack. Sat behind his desk, his usual half-empty glass of scotch in hand.
You resist the urge to roll your eyes, “Out?”
“Out where?”
“I don’t need to tell you that.”
You didn’t. It’s not like Ari was your dad, although he very much tried to act like he was. He was your stepfather; your mother had married him last year. And in that time, Ari had made it clear that he was always going to be in charge. And you wouldn’t have cared if he bossed your mother around, but it was you who his attention fell on most of the time.
You were in college, and it was close enough that you were able to stay at home and commute. Well, stay at Ari’s home, since that’s where your mother had moved the two of you. And you should have realised back then – a man as powerful as Ari Levinson would only ever play by his own rules, and make sure you did too.
“You have an eleven ‘o’ clock curfew. I didn’t see you tucked in at eleven ‘o’ clock. In fact, you weren’t home well past midnight.” He takes a sip of his scotch, looking ever the ruggedly handsome man that every single woman you knew went crazy over. Seriously. Your mom, her friends, your friends. It’s like you were the only one who saw through his act. There was just something about him…
This time you do roll your eyes, “Well firstly, I don’t need to be tucked in like I’m some little schoolgirl. And second, I’m allowed to stay out as long as I like. Mom never had a problem with that, she trusts me.”
Ari’s deep blue eyes regard your carefully, and he sets his glass down before using his finger to beckon you closer. “Come here.”
“What? No, I have to go.”
“You don’t have to go anywhere without my permission, sweetheart. Now I won’t repeat myself.”
There was an edge to his tone, one you knew all too well. Ari Levinson was a dangerous man, but then again weren’t all businessmen dangerous? It’s not like he’d played nice all his life to become the millionaire he was now. But he never shared his work with you or your mom. No, Ari was very rigid in his rules. Work was for the men, and women were to look after the home and mind their business.
He had other rules too. A curfew for you, no swearing, no wearing revealing clothes – and that was just scraping the surface. You’d complained to your mother countless times: “He’s not my father, he can’t make me do any of this!” But your mother was blindly in love with Ari, and wouldn’t listen to a single negative thing about him. “We live under his roof, sweetheart. He pays for everything and we should be so grateful. The least you could do is follow his rules, he only wants what’s best for you!” It was a shame he didn’t love your mother back. You couldn’t imagine a powerful man like Ari Levinson loving anything.
You swallow and step into his office, clutching your coat tighter around your body. It was best not to waste time arguing with him, and the sooner he said whatever he had to say, the sooner you could leave. You had another party to go to tonight, and no one – not even Ari Levinson – was going to stop you.
“Close the door behind you.” Ari orders, leaning back on his leather chair and undoing the top button of his shirt.
“Why?”
“Close it.”
You do. There’s something about the way Ari speaks, the way his tone is so commanding without him even trying to make it seem that way. It compels you to listen, and so you stand there in his office, in front of his desk while he just looks at you. His eyes leisurely trailing up and down your body, so dark as he sips his scotch again.
“Look, Ari, I’m going out whether you like it or not, and–”
“How many times have I told you not to call me that?”
You almost sneer, “I’m not going to call you Dad.”
“Of course not. You’re too spoilt to address your elders with a bit of respect.” He leans forward, his eyes never leaving yours as he sets his scotch down and runs his hand through his unruly brown hair. It’s all glossy and rich, curling at the ends like he’s some kind of romantic movie hero. It was crazy how good looking he was, how charming he looked for someone who was so strict and stuck in his ways.
“You’re literally not my father.” You say, shifting from one heeled foot to the other. You’d had this argument with him almost daily for the past year.
“Oh yeah? Who else lets you live under their roof? Buys you whatever you want and gives you a monthly allowance on top of that?”
You sniff, “Never asked for any of that.”
A smile touches his rosy lips, but it’s a wolfish one. A predatory one. “And yet you have no problem spending my money, do you? On stupid, mindless things like that sorry excuse for a dress you’ve got on under that coat.”
You bite your lip, holding your coat tighter around your body. It was long, but the dress underneath was short. Sinfully short, skintight, red lace. What else were you supposed to wear to the club? Not that Ari had to know that that’s where you were going tonight – one of his rules was no clubs. But how did he know about your dress?
Ari chuckles, “I know all about your slutty little get up, sweetheart. Isn’t that why you had your bedroom door open earlier while you were changing into it?”
Your jaw drops, “You pervert, you–”
“Enough.” He raises his hand to silence you, and you hate that it works. Your heart’s drumming in your chest and you despise how much of an effect your stepfather has on you. How much he intimidates you, how much he scares you despite how hard you try to prove otherwise. “Come here.”
You swallow harshly, “I am here.”
“No. Come over here. Closer to daddy.”
You blanche. That was the thing about Ari. He didn’t even want you to call him Dad. No, he wanted you to call him daddy – like you were some stupid, helpless little girl.
Sometimes, he’d brush past you around the house, make sure to squeeze your hip or rest his hand on your back despite the fact that the hallways were big enough for about ten people. How he’d grab something for you from the top shelf, making sure to touch you in some way as he did it. And he’d whisper – sometimes even with your mother in the same room – “Daddy’s got it, sweetheart,” or, “let daddy help you, honey,” or “how’s daddy’s best girl today?”
And it horrified you that disgust wasn’t the only thing you felt when he said those things.
“I’m fine right where I am.” You hold your ground, trying not to shake or teeter in your sky-high heels. Your bare legs suddenly feel cold, your palms clammy.
Ari blinks, “come here or I’ll get up and drag you here myself. And we both know you don’t want that.”
You mull it over. Ari was a huge man. And huge was an understatement. You didn’t think men could be so big and imposing until you’d met him. He towered over everyone you knew, and he completely dwarfed you. Hell, even in your heels you’d be half the size of him. And he was also absolutely ripped. Shredded like he went to the gym regularly, and you knew he did because he had a gym at home, and he’d often walk around shirtless after a workout. All sweaty and tanned and glistening, and–
“I’m waiting.” His voice is clear and powerful, carrying across the study, ringing in your ears. You think over your limited options, wondering if you could possibly just make a break for it.
You’d tried running away from him only once before. During the early hours of the morning, when Ari had come to pick you up after a house party gone a bit too wild. You were still drunk, high, happy. And then he’d pulled up in his expensive car, a grim look on his face. You’d giggled and ran, but it only took him a few strides to catch up with you. He’d hoisted you over his shoulder like you were a sack of potatoes, like you weighed no more than a feather. And he’d thrown you in the back of his car and forbade you from ever going out again. Told you that if you did, he’d track you down and ground you for life. That there was no point in running, no point in hiding because he’d always track you down. Because he was your daddy and you were his little girl and he owned you.
That was when you’d realised just how insane Ari Levinson was. Insane with money and power and capable of anything with the world at his feet.
Heart beating madly in your ribcage, you take a deep breath and slowly walk over to him. Around his desk and right up in front of him. He turns his chair slightly, looking up at you from under those impossibly long lashes of his, his eyes flashing darkly as he takes you in. He grabs your hip and yanks you closer, and you stumble, almost falling on top of him before his strong arm steadies you, and you end up standing between his legs.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, and you feel a strange sensation at the compliment. Almost like a spark within you that you try your best to ignore. His hand is still on your hip, rubbing up and down through the mink of your coat. “Where’s your mommy tonight?”
“Asleep.”
“So you were going to sneak out.”
“It’s hardly sneaking out when you’re an adult in college who doesn’t need permission to go out and see her friends.” You can’t help but quip, although your attention is on his hand as it continues to rub your hip. Why was he doing that?
He acts like he hasn’t heard you, his eyes continuing to drink you in as he strokes your hip, “It’s not good to give your mommy and daddy so much grief, sweetheart. You should stay at home like a good little girl.”
Grief?! As if. You don’t think a man like Ari could ever feel anything as raw and humane as grief. Especially over something as normal as you, a college-aged woman, living her life.
You shrug, trying to act as casual as possible, “I like going out.”
“Mm,” in a flash, he yanks your coat off your body, the slinky fur sliding down till it falls by your feet. The action is so sudden, and yet Ari remains nonchalant, “You like dressing up like a slut too.”
“This is what all the girls are wearing.”
“But you’re my girl.” He toys with the lacy hem of your dress, a frown touching his handsome face at how short it is. Hell, the dress hardly covers your butt, and you’d class it more as lingerie than a going out dress, but that was none of his business. “I can’t have you going out like this, baby. Nobody’s allowed to see you like this.”
“What if they already have?”
The slap comes out of nowhere, sharp, unforgiving and loud, and your ass blooms with pain. You cry out, unable to believe he’s just spanked you.
“If you were stupid enough to give yourself to one of those idiot college boys you hang out with, trust me, I would know.” Ari says quietly. And it’s not a sneer, nor is there any contempt in his tone. Just cold, hard, nonchalance – which chills you down to the bone.
“Y-You’re crazy,” oh, but you hate the way your voice shakes as you say it!
“I’m just looking out for you, baby girl. That’s what daddies are for. Hell, even your mommy wants me to be your daddy.”
“That’s because she doesn’t know–”
“She wants me to be responsible for you, to discipline you, to take care of you how I see fit. How could you go against what your mommy wants?” His hand meanders lower, stroking your hip bone before gliding over your bare thigh, and then up again but this time under your dress. He cups your ass, and you can’t believe he’s got the balls to do it so casually. And it’s bare, because your lacy little G-string wasn’t covering anything, and you both knew that.
“Ari, you need to stop,” you swallow thickly, “y-you’re going too far this time, you–”
He yanks you into his lap, his motions so precise that you end up perched on his knee before you even know what’s happening. Your dress rides up, exposing your upper thighs and that’s exactly where his eyes zero in. Those intense, navy blue eyes that flash as his tongue swipes over his lips. And that’s when you feel it. Hard. Underneath you.
“This is where you belong,” he says softly. But not in a sweet way. Each word drips with menace. Quiet menace and a hanging threat. “On your daddy’s lap like a good little girl. God, baby girl, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hold you in my lap like this.” He bounces you up and down, watching as your breasts bounce in your tight red dress. “Every day I see you skipping around wearing next to nothing, and that fucking body…” He pauses, inhaling deeply as his arm secures around you even tighter, “…that peachy little ass on full display when you’d go out in your slutty little outfits no matter how much I forbade you from wearing them.”
“M-Mom’s upstairs,” you warn him, pressing your hands against his chest in a bid to get away from him except he’s too strong as he holds you rigidly in place. You can hardly believe what’s coming out of his mouth right now, but you don’t want to stick around to find out more, despite the fact that your thighs seem to be pressing together off their own accord. “Mom’s upstairs and she could come down any second, and–”
“She wants us to be together,” Ari smiles, and again it’s that wicked, menacing smile of his that’s more of a smirk than a smile. “She wants me to be your daddy, to take care of you. She knows how out of hand you’re getting; she knows you need a man like me to put you back in your place.”
“What?!”
“Mm, baby girl. And I let you act like a whore long enough. I was lenient, you see. I was enamoured by you, and so I let you do what you wanted. But now it’s time to put my foot down before you get too out of hand.”
“You’re insane!” You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Firstly, lenient?! In what universe was Ari ever lenient with you? He’d always been strict and up your ass about his dumb rules and traditional values. No going out, no drinking, no smoking, no hanging out with boys, no wearing revealing clothes. If that was him being lenient, then you didn’t want to know what he was capable of now.
“There you go again, talking back to me. It’s clear your mommy didn’t teach you any manners.” Ari fingers the lacy strap of your dress, pushing it down your shoulder and inhaling the perfumed bare skin he’s exposed. You’d lathered yourself in fragranced lotion, one that left glitter all over your body, and it reflects in his eyes as they continue raking over you, looking everywhere as if it’s his right to.
And he’d never gone this far before! Sure, he’d brush against you and hold you and whisper things to you, but he’d always teetered along that line, never crossed it. Now he seemed close to it, hell-bent on doing it. There’s a fire in his eyes that you don’t recognise, a lust that burns so bright it makes you look away lest you catch it and start feeling it too.
“And you know exactly what you’re doing to your daddy,” he continues, brushing your hair off your shoulder to expose the nape of your neck, and his huge hand grabs your throat lightly, almost casually. “You left your door open tonight so I could watch you slip on this slutty lingerie you call a dress. And that fucking peachy baby ass of yours, in those tiny, slutty panties…” Again, he inhales sharply, and you feel him shift subtly underneath you, his boner digging into you from below.
You try to ignore the lump in your throat and the beginnings of a fire in the depths of your stomach. “Nobody asked you to look, Ari. You’re a fucking creep and I’m gonna tell Mom you were spying on me.”
He smiles again, like your threat means nothing to him. And why would it? You’re half his age and at his mercy, the clothes on your body bought with his money, as is the makeup on your face. The furniture in your room, all your college textbooks… Hell, he paid your college fees. You were bound to him. He knew he owned you.
“You just earned yourself five extra smacks, baby girl.”
“Five extra what?”
“And you wanted me to look, sweetheart. You always want me to look,” Ari licks his lips, that predatory glint in his eye increasing tenfold. And he casually tweaks your nipple which is poking stiffly out from under the thin lace of your dress. You convulse, and he grins wolfishly, “That’s why you act like an attention-seeking whore, wear slutty clothes and prance around like you own the place. You’re crying out to be put back in your place, you need it.”
“All I need is for you to back off.” You stick your chin up, trying to be brave. But the older man only looks amused, and he strokes your hard nipple with just his thumb, the action sending sparks down to your core that you try your best to ignore.
“God, you’re fucking adorable,” he almost groans it, and his other hand tightens on your hip, grinding you down on his erection while you sit there frozen, “I can’t wait to fuck you in mine and mommy’s bed…”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” His salacious words act like a bucket of icy cold water, shocking you out of your trance. God, he was truly insane! You try to jump off of him, but his grip tightens around your stomach, pinning you down on him as you struggle.
“She won’t mind,” he whispers, licking the shell of your ear and sending electric currents down your body, “she wants us to bond, sweetheart. And I can’t think of a better daddy and baby girl bonding activity–”
“YOU’RE SICK!”
It’s when you really start struggling, when you bat and punch at his chest that he finally frowns. Not that it hurts him, but he doesn’t like the disrespect. That’s when he pushes down on your back, easily manoeuvring your body till he’s got you slung over his knee, your lacy dress riding up and your ass poking up into his face.
“You’re such a brat,” Ari’s lets his hand rest squarely on your ass, stroking it from on top of the red lace. You feel hot all over, heart beating out of your chest as you try to wrap your head around what exactly is happening right now. “But that’s okay, isn’t it sweetheart? One night with your daddy will set you straight. Then you’ll be the good little girl your mommy and I want you to be.”
“Let me go! Don’t you dare touch me, don’t you– OW!”
Ari’s huge hand cracks down on your ass like lightning, and your cry of pain echoes around his study, bouncing off the walls and ricocheting back into your ringing ears. Pain blooms across your backside, tears welling in your eyes – he’d hit you so hard.
“I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that you were craving a good spanking,” Ari runs his hand over your ass, stroking the sizzling skin that’s still covered by the flimsy lace of your dress, “that you needed it, and you wanted me to give it to you.” Easily, he pushes the lace up, bunching your dress around your waist. He fingers your G-string, snapping it against your skin and making you cry out again, “You’re such a little slut…”
He rips your panties off, and you hear him inhale sharply, and you know he’s smelling them. And then his hand cracks down on your ass again, and again you cry out in pain because it’s your bare ass and it hurts, but he doesn’t seem to care.
“I watched you stumble into the house last night, well past your curfew,” he speaks so casually, despite his hand raining unforgiving spanks on your ass, “looking like a slutty, drunk little mess, your dress up and that cute bubble butt of yours poking out like you were trying to tease me. God, I wanted to take you over my knee then and there. But I knew you had to be sober for this. It’s the only way you’d learn.”
“Please, stop, it hurts, it–”
“And to think you were going to go out again, break my rules again,” he sneers, giving you a particularly hard smack that has you reeling, the tears streaking down your cheeks. “Stupid little girl, don’t you get it? I give you everything, every material fucking thing in the world you could ask for. And all I ask in return is for you to be a good little girl, a respectful little girl who stays at home and listens to her daddy. Is that so fucking hard?”
All you do is sob, and he yanks your hair, “I said, is that so fucking hard?”
“No!” You cry, wiggling around on his lap in a bid to get away from the unforgiving wrath of his palm, your mind quickly slipping into delirium, to that place where you’ll say anything just to get him to stop. “No, it’s not hard, okay?! PLEASE STOP!”
“No more going out,” smack after smack rains down on your ass, and the skin feels like it’s breaking, like it’s on fire, and he just grows harder, more excited underneath you. “No, baby girl. From now on, you’ll be good, won’t you? You’ll stay at home with me, let me take care of you.”
“Okay, fine! Just stop, just–”
“And daddy’s gonna take such good care of you,” he croons softly, and yet he sounds so fucking evil, “Daddy’s gonna feed you, change you, bathe you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? So much more than your goddamned parties.”
A strangled sound leaves your throat, white hot pain radiating off your poor ass as he manhandles you, spanking you like you’re some goddamned child being chastised. And you were a grown woman! A grown woman with a sick in the head stepfather who was hellbent on inflicting his torturous, fucked up discipline.
“Say it. Say you want daddy to bathe you. Say you’d like that, because you’re too much of a dumb baby to do it yourself,” he orders, sick pleasure in his tone at his own words. And he gives you the hardest slap yet, like a threat of what’s to come if you didn’t answer how he wanted you to.
“Fine, okay?!” Your voice is shrill with fear, “I-I want you to…” your face screws up, hotness prickling your cheeks, “I want you to bathe me, take care of me...”
SMACK.
“Address me properly.”
“I WANT YOU TO BATHE ME, DADDY!” Shame erupts inside you, but so does relief when the spank you’re expecting never comes, and his hand rests on the curve of your ass instead.
“Of course you do, my helpless little girl.” He croons, switching from menacing to faux-sweet with the drop of a hat. “I always knew you needed me. You made it so obvious.”
“C-Can you please just stop now?” You hang your head, the energy depleting from your body, and all you can focus on is the pain in your ass. That, and the way his boner is poking dangerously close to your core. And you feel this strange urge to hump downwards, but you push it away as soon as it flits your mind.
“You have such a pretty ass, baby,” he ignores you, stroking your ass with that large, warm hand of his. “Sure, daddy just did a number on it, but that’s okay. A cute bubble butt like yours was made to be ruined, wasn’t it? Say it. Say it exactly how I just said it.”
You sniffle, ass on fire and thoughts disorientated enough that you obey without a single protest, “My… My cute bubble butt was made to be ruined.”
You expect him to let you go then, to laugh at you for being reduced to a sniffling mess. To taunt you because you and him both know your mother wouldn’t believe you if you told her what had just happened. He was perfect in her eyes, a knight in shining armour and that was all she ever wanted to see him as. Not the devil incarnate who’d spanked your ass raw for coming home later than the curfew he’d set for you.
Instead, you hear him inhale deeply, squeezing and fondling your ass cheeks, groping them to his heart’s desire, jiggling each cheek like it’s a toy made for his pleasure. And you almost lose yourself to the sensation, because why do you feel that need again? That need to grind down on his knee?
But then his hand moves lower, and his hand cups your cunt before you even realise that he’s crossed that line completely. That line a stepfather should never cross.
“Ari, n-no, don’t…” but why does your voice not even convince your own self?
“I’ll do what I please,” he says calmly, as if he’s conversing with you normally over a pot of coffee in the morning, as if he doesn’t have his big, warm hand cupping your bare pussy. “I own you, it’s only right that I show you what pleasure is. I’m sure you’ve never felt it before, not with those boys you hang around. And you took your punishment well, sweetheart. Daddy’s so proud of you, and I’m not all bad, you know.”
Before you can say another word, his strong arms lift you up and manhandle you till you’re bent over his oak desk, your ass poking up and at his mercy yet again as he stands up to his full height behind you. You yelp when he gives your ass another hard slap, as if he can’t help it.
“You’ve made a mess all over my pants, baby girl,” he pulls your hair, making you look back. And that’s when you see the dark wet spot on his pants. Oh no, no, no. That couldn’t have been you, could it?
And yet, yet you can feel that tell-tale wetness now trailing down your thighs. Were you… leaking? Is that how turned on you were right now? Despite the disgust you feel? And the contempt and hatred too?
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Ari puts on that faux-sweet voice again, and yet he still sounds menacing, predatory as he grips your ass cheeks so hard they hurt. “I know baby girls like you can’t help but have an accident every now and then. It’s a good thing daddy’s here to clean you up.”
Before you can even attempt to decipher what’s happening next, he grabs your hips and hoists your ass up even higher. Then he spreads your ass cheeks apart and your eyes almost bug out of your head when you feel his tongue, stiff and wet, like a stripe up your asshole.
“Oh, oh fuck!” You can’t help but moan. No one had ever, ever even touched you up there. Let alone lick you there, and oh god! Oh god, it felt so insane. Your cunt throbs at the feel of his wet tongue up there. Your stepfather was eating your ass.
“Taste so fucking sweet,” he murmurs, fingers pressing into the soft skin of your butt cheeks as he spreads them even further apart. He spits down on your puckered hole, making you tense up in anticipation. “I’ve been dreaming of eating your sexy little ass since the moment I saw you.”
“This is wrong…” and yet your words sound so faint, so far away. What feels close is his tongue, big and flat as he laps at your hole like a starved man. And you don’t know what possesses you but you know you have to start rocking your hips back into his face, and that’s when you feel him smirk against you.
“I knew you’d come around, baby girl. I knew you’d get off on me eating you back here. I bet none of your little boyfriends ever did this for you, huh?”
“N-No, oh-oh gosh, I-I–”
 He cups your cunt again, this time gathering your wetness and bringing it up to your asshole. And fuck, his finger makes you twitch as he rubs your wetness into your puckered hole before lapping it up with his tongue. And the whole time, obscene noises fill up his study, and your mother sleeps soundly upstairs while her husband violates your asshole and both of you are moaning now.
“Fucking sexy baby ass,” Ari mutters, practically tongue-fucking your hole like he hasn’t had a meal in days. And his stiff, wet tongue forces its way into your tight hole and you wail because it feels like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Now you’re grinding back into his face in earnest, and your poor, neglected cunt is dripping juices down on his desk, and–
Ari slaps your ass hard, the sound ringing across the room, and his beard scrapes against your hole, and it feels so sinfully good that you want to cry. How did it get to this? You hate him. You despise him. And yet…
It’s when he forces his thick pointer finger into your poor asshole that you scream in earnest, and all it earns you is another slap to your butt. And this itself makes your pussy clench, like your body is growing accustomed to his rough ways. Like your body is accepting his rough ways, liking his rough ways.
“D-Daddy,” you whimper voluntarily, because your body is betraying you and now so is your voice, “daddy please. Need to, n-need to…”
“Say it.” Ari’s voice drips with power and authority, “Say what you need.”
“Need to – nngh! – need to cum!”
He smirks, “No one’s stopping you, baby girl. No one’s stopping you from getting off on your stepdaddy eating your tight, sexy ass.”
He pushes you down on his desk, till your stomach is flat against the hard oak. With your ass pinned down against the hard surface, he spreads your cheeks again – as far as they’d go. With renewed vigour, he starts licking up your ass again. And you twitch against his harsh tongue, which probes and licks you like you’re nothing more than his meal. And you gasp and whine and moan like a whore, thrusting back against him, needing to cum, just needing to cum and nothing else.
You squirt hard when he bites down on your ass cheek, bites down on it like a man possessed, like a man hell-bent on marking you as his property. And you’re sure he’s left a mark, you’re sure he’s drawn blood, and he fingers your tight asshole the whole time, milking your orgasm as your untouched cunt convulses and waves of shocking pleasure radiate through your body.
“That’s right, baby girl,” Ari licks at the spot where he’s bit you, sucking at the poor, broken skin to make the bruise even more prominent. “My special little girl, finally giving yourself to daddy. I’m so proud of you, baby. Fuck, so proud of my little girl.”
 You’re half lost in your delirium but you snap out of it when you feel something wet and hot splash on your ass. Spurts of it, coating your sore and bruised ass. His cum. You hadn’t even realised he was jacking off. Your stepdad, jacking off and dropping his load all over your sizzling ass after he’d just spanked you and ate you out back there.
Fuck.
“Next time, I’m finishing inside you,” Ari has the audacity to chuckle, despite the air feeling heavy around you as you come down from your high and collapse on his desk, all energy sapped out of your body.
You open your mouth to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a pitiful whimper. You feel a bunch of sensations, but you feel another spark of thrill when his finger swipes over your ass. And then he brings it to your lips, his finger coated with his cum that he’s gathered, and presses it into your mouth.
You don’t have the energy to fight him, and so you suck on his finger, like a good little girl you lap up his cum, swallow it while he smiles at you approvingly, and pats your head like you’re his little pet. Ruined and collapsed on his desk, your panties in his pocket and your poor dress hiked high around your waist. Completely at his mercy.
“I’ll run you a bath,” he says, picking you up and gathering you in his arms. You’re limp, too weak to argue. To fucked out to really register what’s just happened. “See, doesn’t it feel good to be taken care of by your daddy? All that partying isn’t good for you. Only daddy knows what’s good for you. But don’t worry. You’ll learn. Soon.”
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A/N: THE END! OKAY WHAT DO WE THINK??? AHHHH this Ari is sooo fucked up omfg. But I'm kinda nervous posting this bc I haven't posted a full length fic in a while??? and idk... this just came to me. BUT WHAT DO WE THINK? Please, please do let me know! Feedback/comments/reblogs would mean the world to me! I JUST WANNA KNOW WHAT YALL THINK??? FAV PART??? ANYTHINGSS anyways byeee love u <3
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trivia-yandere · 1 month ago
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dilemma 2
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"car sex looks so much easier in the movies." part one @momnomnom @sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @investedreader @
warning: semi-public sex, car sex, dirty talk, drugdealer yoongi yas, smoking/"drug" use, mentions of drugs, guns, sexual enhancement pill, kissing, oral sex (f/m), fingering, nipple sucking, riding, creampie, unprotected sex, ass-slapping,
word count: 7.139
kinktober masterlist
“Each time I see you, you get something more bold.” the nail tech speaks as she carefully adds the clear coat onto your nails. “You always keep me on my toes. I never know what to expect.”
You giggle a bit with a curt nod to your head. “Would you believe me if I told you it wasn’t me choosing these designs?”
Yoongi had been the one to tell you all he wished for you to get - and you never went against it. He was the one paying for it. You recall one of the many times you and he were hanging out. He would always insist that you didn’t have to buy whenever you wanted weed, a perk that you didn’t wish to take advantage of. 
Yoongi understood that you were stubborn at times and instead decided that you two can smoke together and it wouldn’t be considered “free” if he was smoking it with you - as if you didn’t know he “accidently” left some behind for you whenever he left.
That, and it always ended with you and Yoongi fucking. You blamed it on you being high but you and him both understood that even sober would you be willing to fuck him. 
After a smoke session that soon lead to a fuck session, Yoongi had mentioned how your nails would look nice a light blue color and had offered to pay for it, no matter the cost. Him handing you $200 wasn’t what you expected - his excuse was he didn’t know how much nails cost.
Typical Yoongi response.
“Boyfriend?” she asks, eyes glancing up at you. “You always get designs and add bling.”
You lick your lip, unsure of how to respond.
Yoongi wasn’t your boyfriend - he never asked you. 
Sure you and he would often spend time together when you weren’t working and he wasn’t…doing whatever it was that he did. He never truly did tell you what he sells besides weed, but did you truly wish to know? Just like he said before - ignorance is bliss.
Yoongi and you would go places that could be considered dates - says your friends - and apparently acted like a couple. He would buy you things randomly, items he thought you’d enjoy and of course he does pay for your nails simply because he likes the way they look on you.
“Something like that.” was your response, unsure of what you were truly expected to respond with. 
There’s a ringing noise indicating that there’s a door opening. You raise your brow in confusion as it was already dark outside and the salon is closed and has been for over an hour now. You typically choose the later appointments at times and Yoongi would pick you up.  
“Ah, is this the boyfriend?”
Your head whips around to see Yoongi in the flesh. He steps closer, sauntering towards you with such a cool and nonchalant swag about him. Your heart jolts at just the sight of him, dressed casually; dark grassy colored shirt with light-washed gray jeans and his infamous Nikes that he wore that he had in nearly every color. 
Yoongi always wore jewelry, his wrist holding expensive gold bracelets and watches. His ears typically held little silver or gold hoops or the occasional diamond earrings. Witnessing him wearing a diamond studded chain around his neck, matched with another looser one that slightly sways as he walks. 
“Yoongi.” you say as he reaches you, your body warms at his sudden appearance. “I…I should be done soon. Were you waiting long?”
“Just stopping by. Have to make a quick stop before we go out to eat.” Yoongi shakes his head, dark eyes glancing down to your nails. “I like your nails. They’re nice.”
You couldn’t help but smile, looking at your nails with the design Yoongi picked out - full of different shining gems that he insisted you get, again, no matter the cost.
Yoongi goes through his pocket and grabs his wallet. He turns his eye to the nail tech who’s already watching in curiosity. Sometimes, not all, does Yoongi wear rings. They could be subtle, simple silver rings. Today, however, was not a subtle day. His index, middle, ring and pink display diamond-studded rings that say “SUGA”, and all you can do was snicker.
“Hopefully this is enough.” Yoongi says, handing her a wad of cash. You want to scoff at the insane amount of money he was handing her. “This is too much-” the nail tech widens her eyes a bit, looking between you and Yoongi. “It’s-”
“Fine.” Yoongi shrugs his shoulders. “It’s fine. You can pocket the rest.” he assures, turning feline-like eyes to you. “You always do an amazing job.”
You have the urge to roll your eyes at him, but you cannot contain the soft smile that creeps onto your lips.
“You always show off like this?” the nail tech asks, placing your hand beneath the uv light. She wasn’t going to complain as you became her top client - always returning biweekly for a new set and leaving a hefty tip. Now she understands why - the man with diamond, sparkling jewelry.
“It’s pocket change..” Yoongi snorted. His hands, calloused and warm, grabs your dried ones and he leans down a bit to press a kiss onto your hand. He winks, the flirtatious Yoongi returning for just a moment before he nods his head at you. “I’ll pick you up no later than an hour.”
Yoongi’s car is parked directly in front of the salon, you and the nail tech watching as he gets into it and speeds off down the road. You haven’t realized you were holding your breath until you let it out.
“That’s…him.” you murmur, shaking your head. 
“That’s your man.” The tech nods her head in confirmation. “No doubt about it. You need to fuck him tonight.”
Your body heats up at her words and you begin to laugh nervously. Your nails are done now and you sit as she begins to clean her station, along with speaking with you.
“How long have you and him been together?”
“Not long…” you respond. “...I’ve known him forever. He would always sell me weed in college and I just never stopped going to him.”
“I knew it.” the tech gasps, her eyes widening as if you’ve told her the juiciest gossip ever. “At first, I was thinking… scammer! With all those rings on his hands and jewelry. Overall swag.” She stands up. “But a dealer sounds more accurate.”
You stand along with her. You were her last client of the day and she was preparing to close for the night. The evening sky displays such rich colors of purple, orange and pink all blending together perfectly. 
“Ugh, the sex has to be good.” she says with a shake of her head. “I have something that could make the experience better.”
You follow behind her as she grasps her purse and begins to stroll towards the salon doors. She turns off the lights behind you and begins to lock the doors.
“Better?” you furrow your brows. Sex with Yoongi was already amazing - he was the perfect type of pleaser that loved having his head between your legs.
However, you were curious about what she was trying to sell you.
“Girl,” she turns to you with a wicked smirk on her lips. The way she speaks to you is comfortable; like two close friends. “I have these pills. A little…enhancement. Not saying you need it. The way he looks at you…” she whistles, as if knowing that Yoongi can have you wet in seconds. “But…he’s a dealer, right? Meaning you and he always get high together?”
You nod your head hesitantly. 
“It'll be amazing. Trust me.” she proceeds to go through her purse and take out a small, square package. “Two of these and you’ll be ready for him in no time.”
She doesn’t even allow you much time to react before she’s shoving them in your hands. “In two weeks when I see you…tell me all about it.”
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You aren’t sure what you expect to happen with the tiny, pink pills you took. It takes you a few minutes to walk down the street to the pharmacy to pick up your prescription and wait for another few minutes for them to be done with it. You decided that - why not. You decided to take it while you wait, chugging down a cup of water from the fountain.
You sit in the waiting area. It’s quiet, no one around in the pharmacy besides you and the pharmacist who appears to be taking his time filing your order; but you weren’t in much of a rush.
Your mind wanders to the pill and if it would truly work like she said it would, and if it did how would you react? It couldn’t be anything too strong that would have you wanting to tear Yoongi’s clothes off surely.
The door rings and you’re too occupied with your thoughts to care about who’s entering or the amount of footsteps. Of course, not until you hear a loud bang in the air, followed by several glass breaking. Your body instantly flinches, your heart pounding erratically. Your eyes are wide as you witness several men, all dressed in black clothing and masks covering their faces, point their guns right at the Pharmacist. The poor old man appears just as you knew you did - a deer caught in headlights and scared shitless.
“Stay there.” one man says to the Pharmacist, gun pointed right at him. “You don’t get paid enough to give a fuck about what we steal.”
There’s a total of five of them that you can see, three going behind the counter to shove different amounts of product in their bags while up front, there’s 1 guarding the door. You swallow thickly, your heart pounding outside your chest, your body trembling even more as the guy's head slowly turns towards you.
“Why are you here?”
As if on queue, several heads turn towards you as if just now realizing you were there. 
“I…I…”
“She wasn’t supposed to be here.” says one man behind the counter.
“I needed birth control.” you responded meekly, feeling your eyes begin to grow glossy.
“Don’t cry.” the man lowers his gun - that was aimed at the pharmacist - and shakes his head. “You can still get your birth control. Hand the girl her birth control.” he then raises it again, waving it towards the Pharmacist. “You weren’t supposed to see this…”
You’re unsure how to respond and decided that it was best not to. Your body is feeling different and your mind swears it’s playing tricks on you.
The door sounds once more and more footsteps make their way closer to you. You take a deep breath, eyes glancing at the men still shoving product into bags while the Pharmacist struggles to package your birth control.
“Y/N…”
That voice. 
Your head snaps towards Yoongi, whose eyes are watching you closely.
“I thought you were going home.” Yoongi murmurs, coming even closer to you. He doesn’t  acknowledge any of the men as he stands directly in front of you. 
“Y-Yoongi…?”
Your eyes blink several times, eyebrows knitting. 
“You weren’t supposed to be here…” Yoongi murmurs. “...when this happened.”
You’re silent for a moment to allow yourself to process his words. 
You glance around to the men who don’t appear to be bothered by you  -  a potential witness. You then turn your attention back to Yoongi.
“This is what you do?” you whisper, voice low and calm.
Yoongi inhales, his dark hues watching you closely. He’s not positive how you’re reacting to this. It’s as if your reaction changed from frightened to relaxed. 
“I’m not saying I do this.” Yoongi shrugs. “I am saying you weren’t supposed to be here. I’m sorry if you’re scared.” he’s truthful, you note, as this could be scary for anyone. “And I understand if this is the last time you want to see me.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, hyung.”
Yoongi closes his eyes a bit before turning to the man. He has a bag in his hands and he offers it to you. 
You look between the two before grasping it hesitantly. “Thank you.” you say, voice low and mind still attempting to process it all.
Yoongi knew these men, that was obvious. He wouldn’t be here without a mask if he hadn’t - nor would they all be so calm around him. Him being called hyung was just another confirmation. 
You sniffle a bit, the bag crinkling in your hands as you begin to stand. Yoongi is silent as he awaits your reaction - for you to run out of here and not look back. For you to demand him to leave you alone and never speak with you again. 
“Can you take me home?”
Yoongi feels his heart jolt a moment - there’s hope, isn't it? You felt comfortable enough to allow him to take you home. 
“Yes, baby.” Yoongi nods his head, murmuring his words so low. His voice is raspy and deep and his eyes are as dark as they always are and..
And you feel a thump between your legs, like a heartbeat.
You gulp.
The pill was working. In such a terrible time.
Slowly, you begin to stand, glancing away at the masked men for a moment.
“I’ll walk us out.” Yoongi offers, placing a hand around your waist and pulling you closer to him. You can smell his cologne - a mixture of citrus, wood and wood. It’s purely Yoongi and, once more, causes you to feel that familiar heartbeat between your legs.
“You were supposed to check to make sure no one was here.” you hear Yoongi’s voice behind you as you walk. His soft tone with you changes completely when he speaks to the men. 
“How are we supposed to know your girl would be here?” another voice sounds, just as annoyed as Yoongi was. “You said you’ll be out with her the whole night.”
Your body is heated at those words - Yoongi talks about you to his…friends? Associates? Fellow criminal dealers?
“Next time fucking check then!” Yoongi snaps, his hand on your waist as you walk past another mask man who opens the door for you.
The air is cool outside and it hits your warm body tenderly. You moan low at how good it feels, yet and still the thumping between your legs remains. 
Yoongi’s car is parked in an alley a few blocks away. It’s dark and the car is running. He presses a button on his car door and pulls it open. “Get in.” he mumbles, lightly patting your lower back. 
You proceed to do that and once inside, Yoongi closes the door. The rap music is low in his speakers and in a few moments he rounds the car entirely and gets inside the driver.
“Y/N,” Yoongi begins, releasing a sigh. “I don’t want you to be scared of me.”
You gently drop the paper bag onto the ground between your feet. You take a deep breath. “I’m not scared.” you respond.
Yoongi scoffs. You didn’t see the look on your face when he arrived. It infuriated him to see the glossy look in your eyes and if he could strangle each of them he would; Jungkook especially for attempting to reason with you with a gun in his hand and a mask covering his head. 
“I…” Yoongi places his hand onto your cheek. It causes you to hitch your breath. “...sell more than weed. You know that.” he murmurs, that voice again causes your body to react sinfully in a moment that you shouldn’t be. 
“I know.” you nod your head, gently leaning into Yoongi’s hand.
“Do you?” 
Yoongi’s thumb traces the outline of your lips.
“I would never hurt you.” Yoongi continues. “Do you know that? I’ll never put you in harm's way.”
You meet Yoongi’s eyes as they stare right through you. The car is dark and only a single street light in the alley illuminates slightly in the car. His chains sparkle on her neck along with the rings on his hands. 
“I can take you home, baby.” Yoongi hums, tilting his head a bit. He had to know the way you were looking at him right now. There wasn’t a way he thought that you just wanted to go home without you. “And if you don’t want to see me anymore…”
Yoongi doesn’t finish his sentence and instead awaits your response. 
“Who are they?”
Yoongi furrows one brow. “...My brothers.” he answers truthfully. “They can…be a bit dumb at times.”
“They know me.” you state, it wasn’t a question. 
Yoongi nods as his lips twitch upwards. “They know you.” he confirms. 
“I’m your girl?”
Your tone is teasing and there's a twinkle in your eyes; especially when your tongue pokes out to swipe at his thumb. 
“You are my girl.” Yoongi rasps, inhaling. “You know that.”
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
You wrap his thumb in your tongue, your eyes never moving from his; unblinking. You suck gently on it, wishing it was something else entirely.
“My girl…” Yoongi hisses. “I like your nails.”
Giggling, you release his thumb and shake your head. You reach your hand out and place it onto his thigh and dangerously close to his groin. You ponder if it was some type of kink Yoongi has
“Yeah?” you hum, nails tapping against him. “How much do you like it?”
Yoongi’s eyes lowers dangerously slow to your hand teasingly tapping the bulge in his jeans. Maybe it was a kink he had - he loved the way your nails appeared against him; when you’d wrap them around his cock. When you’d hold his face between your hands or rub it along his chest as the two of you would cuddle together. He enjoyed when you’d run your hands through his hair at times, though he had to pretend he didn’t because he, after all, was a man and not a soft one like you claimed once.
“So much…” Yoongi murmurs, tongue coating his lips. “...do you want to smoke?”
You tilt your head a bit, glancing up at Yoongi. It’s obvious you wanted to do something more than just smoke, but you decided to nod your head instead. Your mind wanders back to what your nail tech said, pondering if this pill mixed with a high would be any different.
You nod your head. 
In a way, this was a way for Yoongi to prepare himself to be able to deal with you and calm his own nerves. No one wasn’t expecting for you to be at the Pharmacy and eventually, he would explain what more he did outside of dealing weed. He didn’t want to literally show you and he still finds it surreal you’re handling it this smooth.
As always, Yoongi has everything pre-rolled for the two of you. He leans his seat back a bit and goes through his pockets for a lighter. He lights the joint before passing it to you.
“Do you do…this often?” you ask before placing it between your lips and taking a pull.
“I usually don't.” Yoongi shakes his head. “They do. I sell it.”
Smoke releases from your lips, your eyes zoning out for a moment to process his words. You supposed it made sense that Yoongi sold other stuff - and you’re sure this is still the tip of the iceberg. The fancy cars, expensive clothes and jewelry mixed with the amount of money he always gave you.
“We typically try to steer away from armed robbery but,” Yoongi shrugs. “business must go on, baby. We only steal from corporations, not small businesses.”
You take another pull and roll your eyes before passing it to Yoongi. “How “people over profit” you are.” you tease.   
Long fingers grasp the joint from you. Yoongi smoking has always looked hot to you and even now it just intensifies; maybe the pill was just having you crave Yoongi more. 
“Some people need medication for a cheaper price, others need it for other uses. I only supply them.” Yoongi releases the smoke from his nose, tilting his head as his eyes connect with yours. “Ya’ sure you okay?”
“I am.” you nod, offering a short smile.
“You look…” Yoongi can’t put his hands on it. High, sure, but you couldn’t be that high. You didn’t appear frightened anymore. Yet, that look in your eyes wasn't fear. “...hmm.”
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
You squeeze your legs a bit tighter as your eyes blink at Yoongi, never leaving his gaze. It clicks in his mind right then and there. You were horny - more than he’s ever seen before. The constant squeezing of your thighs, the slightly flushed look on your skin. 
“You want me to fuck you so bad.” Yoongi scoffs, a smirk forming onto his lips. 
You swallow, yet another jolt between your legs signaling that you indeed did want Yoongi to do just that. Your mouth begins to salivate at just the thought of having him deep in you, fucking you in such a disrespectful way that it’s nearly demeaning.
You let out a soft breath. 
“I do.” you admit, not wishing to hide it anymore. There was never any judgment with Yoongi and you find that you could always be truthful and open with him. He was a tease at times, but you never took it bad. “I took this pill.”
“Pill?” Yoongi raises a brow, taking another hit of the joint before passing it back to you. “What type of pill?”
You do the same as Yoongi, closing your eyes for a bit as the smoke hits your lungs. “Sexual enhancement, I suppose.” you shrug your shoulders. “Nail tech gave it to me. Told me to try it.”
Yoongi is intrigued now. Maybe this was what is causing your eyes to give him such longing, seductive stares. 
Yoongi licks his lips. “Hm.” he blinks. “How do you feel?”
You take a long hit of the blunt, your eyes staring right at him for a second too long, showing him just how you feel without truly saying another. 
“I want to suck your dick.” you say, releasing the smoke from your lips, hitting Yoongi directly in the face. “Now.”
Yoongi is nothing but a man. Of course he got hard by that - especially with how demanding you were. He wasn’t a highly dominant person and didn’t mind whenever you wanted to take control; same as of right now.
The blunt, now too small for your nails to grasp, is discarded and quickly, you push yourself towards Yoongi. Your lips connect with his hastily, hands going to touch the bulge in his jeans, gripping and rubbing it.
Yoongi swallows back his moans as he kisses your back, your tongue dancing with his own. Your hand manages to get inside his jeans and grasp his length tightly in your palm, causing Yoongi to gasp.
“That pill must be really fucking you up.” Yoongi grunts when you release his lips, saliva snapping the connection as you do. He offers you assistance in lowering his jeans so his cock can spring free.
“It is.” you say, your eyes not leaving his as you open your mouth and allow a trail of saliva to fall out slowly and onto the tip of his cock.
Yoongi groans, his eyes darkening at how slutty you looked. 
You lower yourself to wrap the tip in your tongue, allowing it to swirl. Your eyes close and instinctively, your back arches. You never enjoyed doing this before Yoongi, as you found that  no man was truly worth sticking their cock in your mouth. However, Yoongi was different and you acknowledge that. You enjoyed sucking his cock and hearing the sweet moans and words of encouragement. 
“Ah, shit.” Yoongi slams his head against the seat.  His eyes begin to flutter, finding it extremely difficult to leave his eyes open.
Yoongi’s cock is warm in your mouth, radiating the same heat as your tongue does. His tip hits the back of your throat almost playfully.
Yoongi tries his hardest to compose himself, but he cannot. Especially not when it comes to you. There’s only so much of his moans he can keep to himself before he releases them pathetically. One large hand places itself on top of your head while his pale cheeks flushes a dusty pink. Your hand tightens around the shaft of his cock so you could focus solely (for now) on sucking on the tip.
“You always look so beautiful.”
Yoongi’s eyes lazily flutter back open to watch the way you suckle onto his cock with such need. His hand slightly grips your hair, unable to take his low eyes away from the obscene sight of you. 
Your tongue runs past Yoongi’s slit, turning your head a bit just to look up at him. Dark, cloudy eyes meet his and he shivers visibly. The salty pre-cum hits your tongue and you giggle softly at the taste of it - but how couldn’t he? Everything about you was perfect to him - even outside of sex. 
You wanted Yoongi just as much as he wanted you. You wanted to see him crumble and shiver in your embrace. Yoongi was the type of man that gave you everything and didn’t expect anything in return - you wanted this moment to be about him; for however long he’d last.
You take Yoongi further into your mouth, opening wide and willingly. Your tongue lays flat as you bob your head up and down rapidly.
Yoongi, on the other hand, groans, his eyes rolling. His thighs shake just as the sound of your suckling groans louder. Car sex wasn’t usually his forte as it was a small space for two people - but he does find that it’s convenient. That and you were determined to not wait any longer than you needed to.
Your mouth is good for Yoongi. So warm and wet, pleasuring him greatly with qualified skills that he doesn’t realize himself that he’s thrusting into your mouth until he hears you groan on top of him. There’s saliva pooling out from the corner of your mouth and dripping down your chin. 
“That pill must be kicking your ass.” Yoongi grunts, roughly removing your lips from his wet cock. It springs out of your lips with a ‘pop’ and slaps you directly between your eyes, an act you weren’t bothered by in the slightest. “You want to do this now?” 
Yoongi licks his lips just as you nod your head erratically, an eager look in your eyes. He releases a short chuckle. “If that’s what you want…get in the back.” he nods his head to the empty back seat before fixing himself. His eyes survey his surroundings, the alley way as dark and quiet as it always was. His brothers had to be done by now.
Just as you scurry to the backseat, Yoongi opens the driver door to go back there as well. The car remains on, headlights off to not gain any unwanted attention. He sits in the back and locks the door before turning to you. 
“Car sex looks so much easier in the movies.” Yoongi murmurs, but he’s fond of this memory he would share with you. You and he would look back to how terrified (and horny) you were on this very day. “Take your clothes off.”
Your body flushes at the change in Yoongi’s voice, but your pussy continues to throb. You do as you’re told, kicking off your leggings and throwing your panties along with this. Yoongi continues to watch as each second passes and your naked flesh makes its appearance.
“Come.” Yoongi murmurs, reaching out for you. He clasps your chin to press a gentle kiss onto your wet lips, an act he always did. You always adored the contrast that was Min Yoongi, such a gentle man that could fuck you so disrespectfully if he wanted to. “Now lay back.”
Yoongi doesn’t wait for you to get situated before he’s already parting your legs.  After doing this with him many times, you cannot bring yourself to be embarrassed; especially not now. 
“You’re so wet.” Yoongi murmurs to himself, his eyes zoning between your legs as his mouth begins to salivate. 
Yoongi lowers himself, both hands digging into your thighs to keep them apart. He presses a simple kiss against your clit that causes your back to arch at how sensitive you truly were.
“S-Shit…!”
Yoongi wasn’t one to waste time. His tongue lays flat against your clit, his head bobbing back and forth in rhythm. There’s only a short tune of music in the background that completely dies down with the sound of your high-pitched moans. 
Yoongi loves being between your legs - it didn’t matter if it was his cock or his face. Your thighs are warm as they cage his head between them and he finds that he genuinely enjoys eating you out. Most men didn’t understand the act as much as he did. The sweet sounds of your moans are fixed with little words of encouragement. The way you’d squirm and beg for him to slow down - and he never did. It all drove him insane and wanting to give you more.
Yoongi’s eyes stare upwards at you. Your hands squeeze your breast while your eyes are snapped shut. You don’t hold in your moans; he doesn’t want you to. 
Yoongi’s tongue is always rough against your sensitive clit. It’s as though he’s forcing you to cum all over him, determined to taste your arousal that he causes. Maybe it’s an ego boost as a man to be able to cause a woman to cum so harshly. So much so that he doesn’t come up for air and continues to suckle on your swollen clit until you’re nearly begging for him to slow down.
It doesn’t help that Yoongi was an attractive man between your legs who enjoys watching you crumble for him. You learned the first few times to keep your eyes off of Yoongi while he was doing this for once you made eye contact, it was a wrap. He wouldn't break it, all the while his tongue would be buried deep between your legs.
“-fuck…”
Your thighs are quivering as Yoongi lifts himself from between your legs just as your high was about to come crashing over you. 
Of course, Yoongi wasn’t done with you. Your hole is clenching and unclenching with each passing second and Yoongi couldn’t help but want to bury his fingers deep inside of you.
Yoongi’s rings are cold as he inches his fingers inside of you. Again, your back arches once your walls feel his fingers inside of you.
“Let’s see how hard you can squirt in under three minutes.” 
Such mischief in his dark eyes, a smirk forming on his lips. He licks them, savoring the taste of your sweet arousal that’s now coating his long fingers. He releases a short sigh - how perfect you truly were for him. 
“Yoongi…” you squeal, warmth shooting throughout your entire body. His fingers are deep inside of you, wiggling teasingly as its own is determined to play with you.
“Yes, baby?” 
Yoongi knows what his voice does to you - he has to. It can be normal when you and he spoke, and like a flick of a switch, it’s deep. Husky and full of lust - much like now. 
You take a deep breath just as Yoongi takes his fingers out just to shove them back in  - you contemplate that it’s at least three of them inside of you, just enough to drive you crazier. His fingers scrape the inside of your clamping walls feverishly, your squelching pussy growing louder than your moans.
Your thighs tremble with the impact, having the need to shut because it was all too much and you’re beginning to blame the pill for just how aroused you were. It felt as if your body was a furnace with how hot you felt. Goosebumps clutter your skin entirely and just by the soppy sounds coming from between your legs, you’re positive that you’re soaked.
Yoongi, however, doesn’t mind how wet you are - or the fact that it’s smudging all over his seats entirely. His fingers continue to thrusting inside of you, pace never faltering. Your arousal paints his hand and wrist entirely. The man is astonished by just how more and more arousal continues to pool out of you.
“S-Stop…” you manage to grunt, your eyelids closing rather tightly. A weak hand goes to wrap around Yoongi’s wrist, but that doesn’t cause him to do as you tell him to.
“No.” was Yoongi’s response, hovering directly above you now, his face a few inches from yours. You looked completely out of it and he wasn’t making it any easier. “Squeezing around my fingers so tightly, baby, it’s okay. Just let go…”
Yoongi’s breath is warm against your cheek and his own warmth scatters right onto you. His cologne is even more present with how close he was; woody and musky and the familiarity of it all causes you to cry out - also because of how well he’s hitting a certain spot with such ease.
How you managed to lift your arm to wrap around Yoongi’s neck, you’re unsure. You felt rather weak beneath him, but you did so. Your lips find his instinct and you press a firm kiss against it just as you felt your high come before you.
Yoongi groans into the kiss as your thighs tremble as you were coming and just on time does he remove his fingers from your wet core to allow your arousal to fall freely, splashing against your seats on his car and coating your thighs.
Yoongi releases your lips to allow you to breathe. You gasp out, your hand holding onto Yoongi closely as you attempt to gather yourself pathetically. Your head is swirling, your mind flashing with different scenes and never truly focusing on one - was this the weed or the pill? You aren’t sure.
“You’re just so fucked out. It’s cute.” Yoongi chuckles with a shake of his head. He ponders on the pill you were given that could have you like this.
“Shut up.” you sigh, swallowing. Your throat is dry and you’re unsure the reason why. “I want you to cum in me.”
Yoongi snickers as he leans away from you to look at you just as you open your eyes. 
“You can’t possibly have the energy for that right now?” Yoongi teases, but his eyes are watching you closely, as if questioning if you truly did or not. 
“Take your dick out.” you say cooly, pushing yourself from your laying posting to now seat against his backseats.
Yoongi doesn’t fight with you and instead does as you tell him to. His jeans are pushed down to his knees and before he could react, you swing yourself on top of him.
You weren’t going to allow the cramped space to stop you from your goal. You’re determined to feel him fully, planting both feet on either side of it before positioning yourself directly above his cock. 
Yoongi lets out a short breath when you center his cock at your hole, his hands instantly meeting your hips. He then swallows as you begin to enter his cock inside of you.
So wet.
So warm.
So tight.
Yoongi squeezes your hips with shaky fingers when he feels like you sit directly on top of him. He shakes his head gently, his own thighs beginning to shake. 
“You looked just as fucked out.” you tease, licking your lips. You had no time to tease him, however, and instantly begin to lift your hips and crash it back down against him.
Your hands place themselves onto his shoulders as you begin to ride him, snapping your hips in rhythm. The care begins to shake slightly and anyone that may walk past would obviously know that a couple were fucking in here.
It doesn’t stop either of you, of course. 
Manicured nails dig into Yoongi’s shirt and you push your head back. His cock is deep inside of you, crashing against your sweet spot with each buckle of your hips. Your breast pounces directly into his face, so much so that he finds that he enjoys this position the most.
“You’re insatiable.” Yoongi groans, large hands sliding up to grip your breast into them. He open his mouth to send a kitten-like lick on both nipples, his tongue twirling around the hardened bud. 
You continue to bounce on Yoongi, using his cock to fuck yourself as you desire. Your stamina was running out - as you rarely rode him, only when he asked. However, the feeling of his cock deep inside of you causes you to ignore your shaking thighs and continue on.
Yoongi on the other hand is astonished by how long you’ve managed to do this, but he wasn’t complaining. You’re riding his cock as if it belongs to you; like a sex toy you put back inside the drawer when you’re done with. His hands are squeezing your body entirely, your walls clasping around his cock to milk him of everything he has.
“Slow,” Yoongi stops you mid thrust, panting. Both hands place themselves onto your ass as he halts you. “down.” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against your chest. 
Yoongi grunts when he feels you clench around him, his head lifting to look you in your eyes. You’re tired, he notes, but still so full of lust that you’re not going to stop until you’re satisfied. 
“‘wanna feel you cum in me.” you breath, grinding against his cock.
“Yeah?” 
Yoongi begins to thrust, taking control from you. He could never truly deny you what you wanted - even if it was going to kill him (metaphorically). Large hands squeeze your ass as he begins to thrust while keeping you in place. He pounds deep inside of you, tip of his cock reaching just where he needs to be to have you moaning loudly.
The car is humid now and the both of you are sweating. Wet skin slapping mixed with grunts and moans echoes throughout the car. It’s foggy and only partly due to your earlier activities.
“So beautiful for me.” Yoongi growls, tearing his eyes away from your pussy - that’s gripping him tightly and leaves a milky ring around his cock - to your fucked out face. “All for me, right?”
“All f-for you.” you say in agreement, hands squeezing his poor shirt that you’re sure it wouldn’t fit correctly anymore. “You always fuck me so good.”
Yoongi snickers . “You always take me so good.” he responds, right hand harshly slapping your ass, an act he knows you love. “Pussy was made for me. I waited too long to have it.” he admits.
You want to ask Yoongi what he means, but you’re unable to form words now that he flips you entirely, your back slapping right back into the (wet) seats. He presses your knees to your shoulders and begins to drill you even deeper and harder.
“Wanted to fuck you ever since I seen you at the bar.” Yoongi continues, eyes bow out as he reminisces about a time in your college days that you possibly forgot. “Wearing that short skirt and the low tight-fitted top…”
Your mind tries to rack back to the time but you’re truly unsure. You and your friends frequented the bar often and you always found Yoongi out and about, as well, as he was a dealer. 
Yoongi grunts, cock pounding deep inside of you that it would be alarming if he didn’t know how you adored being fucked.
“You don’t remember the way you put your hands on my chest? You were so drunk, giggling and calling me cute. I could’ve bent you over and fucked you right in front of everyone and you’d let me.” Yoongi spats, his dirty words only turning you on more.
Yoongi thinks back to those days years ago, how young and naive you were. How lucky you were that he wasn’t one to take advantage like others would’ve in your drunken state. How he began to pin after you silently, unsure how to truly speak to you outside of you contacting him first - either for weed or just to talk while you were drunk.
“I wanted you to fuck me for so long, too ” you can feel your insides squirm as you speak, his cock sloppily thrusting inside of you. You were going to cum so hard now. “Mission accomplished.”
Yoongi snickers and offers a few more sloppy thrusts. You and he could remember the old times and he’d embarrassingly admit more details about his feelings. As of right now, he was determined to cum in you.
Nails digging into your legs as he holds them in place, Yoongi releases deeply inside of you, cum shooting and painting your walls. Your eyes are closed tightly, chest heaving as you feel his warm seed pool in you. 
Yoongi doesn’t move from inside of you until he’s softening. His cum drips out of you when he does and it causes him to snicker.
“I’m so tired.” you murmur, eyes still closed and attempting to catch your breath. “And hungry.”
Lightly tapping your naked thigh, Yoongi speaks. “Side effects, baby. Where do you wanna eat?” You begin to open your eyes, looking towards Yoongi. He’s fixing himself up, pulling up his jeans and tightening his belt.
Yoongi turns his eyes to you and tilts his head. “What?”
“Why didn’t you say anything years ago?”
Yoongi leans back and shrugs his shoulders. You’re asking questions sooner than he expected. “What the fuck was I suppose to say? I didn’t want to come off as some creep.” he scoffs. “I knew your number, where you lived, where you went to school. I didn’t want to turn you off.”
“You wouldn’t have.” you cross your arms.
“You’re saying that because you find me attractive.” Yoongi waves you off. “If I was hideous you would’ve screamed bloody murder.”
You blink, but then begin to smirk. “True.” you murmur, finally having the strength to pull yourself up. “So…your brothers.” you begin. “They all do the same thing you do?”
“More or less.” answers Yoongi rather vaguely. “I’m sorry again. You weren’t supposed to be caught up in that.”
You blink a few times as Yoongi lifts a hand to touch your cheek. His eyes are sincere as he speaks to you and it causes a jolt in your heart this time .
“It’s cool.” you say, leaning into his hand. “If you were hideous, I would’ve screamed bloody murder.” you joke, causing Yoongi to laugh and you right along with him.
516 notes · View notes
yuukiiqwq · 8 months ago
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Our Blue Spring: Gojo Satoru x Reader
Time stopped for you that day. That day where all four of you are laughing together, the sun brightly shining, the wind gently blowing, the sky a beautiful blue, where all of you believed everything was going to be alright.
Tags/Warning: Fem!reader, Teen!Gojo, Reader is a jujutsu sorcerer, Fluff, Gojo in love, Gojo in denial, One-Shot
˚✧˚. Wc: 2.5k ˚✧˚.
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"Shoko! I need help!" Satoru burst through Shoko's door. "I think I'm dying!"
Shoko turned around to face Satoru. She did not want to deal with his childish antics right now. It was 8am in the morning, and she was surviving on less than 2 hours of sleep.
"Gojo Satoru. I haven't had my morning coffee yet. Do not talk to me until I have my coffee. I am not ready for whatever thing you have to say."
Satoru put his hand on his chest and whined dramatically– "You wound me Shoko! I could be dying right now, and all you care about is coffee!"
"Please do. It would save everyone from your annoyance," Shoko sighs.
"I am not annoyi–"
"Just tell me why you think your dying when you're perfectly fine."
"Well–" Satoru quickly plopped down on Shoko's chair and leaned his head back. "Lately, my heart had been beating super fast and–"
"Out of nowhere?" Shoko interrupted.
"Well, no but–"
"So around someone?"
"Technically, yes, but will you–"
"Around who?"
Satoru huffed angrily and crossed his arm. "Will you let me finish first! It's like I'm being ignored here!"
Shoko ignored his comment and continued– "Around wh–"
"Nuh, uh! Let me finish talking first!" Satoru immediately interrupted. "So, as I was saying before, I was rudely interrupted."
Shoko rolled her eyes at his comment because Satoru always rudely interrupted people when they're talking.
"Lately, my heart always beat super fast around her, and my eyes always follow her around. I always want to see her smile and see her happy. Whenever I see her sad or hurt–" Satoru grasped his shirt tightly where his heart was and looked down– "My chest hurts. It feels like someone ripped my heart out, which is impossible since I'm the strongest!"
Shoko had an expression of shock before it turned into amusement.
"And who is this girl?"
"Y/N! She must have cursed me, right? She must be envious of how strong I am despite her always denying it! Shoko! Diagnose me! I'm sure I'm dying!"
Shoko couldn't help but laugh at this predicament.
"Why are you laughing?" Satoru pouted. "I'm dying, and you're laughing at me."
Shoko eyes sparkled in amusement and mischief.
"You're diagnosed with love."
"What?"
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"Suguruuuuu!"
"No, Satoru. I don't want to listen to you complain about your crush for the 50th time today."
"I don't like her! I just–you know!" Satoru whined and made some weird hand gestures.
"Satoru. I swear to God, I will summon a curse right now to eat you. Ever since that day where Shoko diagnose you with love, you only talked about her, complained about how much you like her, how she doesn't pay enough attention to you and then denies it the very next second." Suguru sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He can already feel an upcoming headache from this conversation.
"I don't like her!" Satoru whines again. "I don't like her just because my eyes follow wherever she goes. I just want to be close to her at all time! It's not my fault my heart and soul desires hers. It's not like I want her to be mine or anything! I don't like her like that."
"Satoru. You're contradicting yourself in every sentence."
"Excuse me? I am not!" He crosses his arms and starts to sulk.
"Are you guys fighting again?"
They both turned around to see you and Shoko carrying drinks.
"They're probably were being the idiot they are. Always fighting about the stupidest things." Shoko sighs and puts down the drinks on the table. "And they're the ones who made us go out and buy them drinks. I should be the one beating them up."
"Satoru was complaining about his crush again. This is like the 50th time today." Suguru grabs the newly brought coffee from the table. "Even coffee won't save me from this catastrophe."
"Geez Satoru, poor Suguru having to go through all that," you laughed. "When are you going to tell us who got you all whipped up?"
All three of them stared at you. Like stared at you.
"Why are you guys staring at me? I'm sure all three of us want to know who he likes since all he talks about is her."
"It's nothing to worry your pretty head about," Satoru says as he grabs his coma-inducing drink.
"You wouldn't understand since you're so oblivious to such obvious hints," Shoko said as she sat down and grabbed her coffee. "He's absolutely smitten by her, and the girl is completely oblivious."
This immediately causes Satoru to complain – "Excuse you! I do not give out obvious hints, and I absolutely am not smitten! I do not like her like that!"
What you didn’t notice during this time was how he kept sneaking quick glances at you. It's not like he can help it! You obviously had some dust on you, and it was bothering him!
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"Why is she with Nanami!? I'm so much cooler than Nanami!" Satoru glares at you who is busy talking to Nanami. "Why isn't she spending time with me!"
At this moment, all Suguru wanted to do was to dump Satoru into the trash can. Shut the lid and hope that the garbage man takes him far away. Not that it will help since Satoru could teleport.
"For the love of everything nice, Satoru just confesses that you're in love with her. Stop being in denial. I'm going to lose my mind listening to you complain every day about the same thing."
Satoru huffed– "It's not love!"
"Satoru, listen. What if someone comes up to her and takes her away from you? What are you going to do?"
"That's such an easy question!" Satoru laughed. "I can use reversal red on them, duh! Even their ashes won't remain!"
"What if she likes them too? Or what happens when we lose her all together? You know being a sorcerer is dangerous," Suguru sighed.
That immediately stopped Satoru from laughing. The smile immediately wiped away from his face, and the light in his eyes dimmed. The expression on Satoru's face was fear? Uneasiness? For once, Suguru couldn't tell what expression was on Satoru's face. He couldn't figure out what he was feeling.
"Satoru?"
No response.
"Satoru," Suguru shaked his shoulder. "Satoru."
Saroru snapped out of his daze. A smile immediately reappeared on his face, and his eyes light up once more.
"Hm? What did you say, Suguru? You bored me so much with your rambling that I dazed off~"
"Satoru–"
Before Suguru can reply– "Satoru! Suguru!"
Both of them look toward the sound of your voice. You were dragging Nanami toward them.
"Ah, finally bored of just talking to Nanami?" Satoru laughed as he walked up to meet you halfway. He then put his arms around Nanami. "Nanami is quite boring compared to me after all~"
You stared at him and then frowned. "Satoru."
"Hm?" He hummed as he tilt his head to face you.
"What's wrong? You're acting stran–"
"Nothing is wrong," he immediately interrupted you, smiling brightly. "You're imagining things. Everything is fine, right Suguru?"
Your frown deepen. Something wasn't right.
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Satoru felt like using reverse red. For all he knows, all he can see is red. Today was the day of the goodwill event, and there was this guy from Kyoto Tech who's putting his hands all over you. He felt like something was clawing his chest open. Sure, there is a rule of no killing, but surely they'll understand that his hand slipped, right? He just wanted to get rid of that weird feeling in his chest.
He then felt someone's hand on his shoulder.
"Jealousy is an ugly look, Satoru. You're going to stare a hole into that guy."
"I'm not jealous, Suguru. That guy just looks so annoying! He's annoying me by existing! I just think my hand is slipping, which might cause me to accidently use reversal red."
Suguru shakes his head in amusement.
"Whatever you say, Satoru. But she doesn't need rescuing Satoru," Suguru said as he pointed toward your direction. "Look."
They watched you as you elbowed the guy in the guts. The guy crumbled onto the floor, and you leaned down and said something to him before you noticed both of them. You immediately smiled and came up to them.
Suguru laughed as he ruffled your hair– "Ouch. That looks like it hurts a lot."
"He deserved it," you huffed. "He was annoying and being a disgusting pervert."
"Surely I can reverse red him, right? I mean, it's not like anyone will notice him gone–"
"Absolutely not, Satoru!" You quickly turned to look at him. "The rule of this event is absolutely no killing even if he's a creep!"
Satoru looked you in the eyes and then whined– "Fineeeee. No killing! Maybe a few broken bones or–"
"Satoru!"
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The sun was setting, and when the goodwill event ended, the guy from earlier has seen much better days. He was covered in bruises, broken bones, and a few fractures. But it's ok! He's just an NPC that no one would care about, as Satoru claimed.
"See, I didn't kill him!" Satoru exclaimed as he waited for you to compliment him.
You couldn't help but roll your eyes. "Good job, I guess."
"You guess?? How rude! I defended your honor!" Satoru complained.
"You saw me elbowing his gut this morning, Satoru," you replied, which led to Satoru to look away and sulk.
You laughed at his behavior before saying– "The sunset is beautiful today."
Satoru looked back up but not at the sunset. He looked at you. The way the light kissed your skin made you look beautiful. He felt his breath get taken away by your beauty. You were always beautiful to him. His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest.
"Yeah. Absolutely beautiful."
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After the goodwill event passed, Satoru was acting weird. Yeah, he's normally weird, but this was a whole different weird. Lately, he always seems to be in a daze thinking about something.
Today, you guys decided to go to the park to hang out, but Satoru was even more unusually quiet.
"Satoru! Earth to Satoru!" You called as you wave your hand over his face.
"Huh?" Satoru snapped out of his daze. "What's happening?"
"Shoko and Suguru went to buy some popsicles. You didn't answer them, so they said they'll make sure not to get you anything," you shaked your head and sighed. "We called you multiple times, but you didn't answer. What's on your mind lately? I'm worried about you."
Satoru bit the bottom of his lips and got up from the swing. He pushed you to sit down on the swing and held the chain with his hands.
"Satoru?" You tilted your head to the side in confusion.
He took a deep breath and looked you in the eyes.
"I have something to say. I think I'm in love."
You were about to open your mouth to say something, but Satoru quickly continued.
"Don't say anything until I finish."
You closed your mouth and nodded. Satoru's cheek was dusted in a shade of light pink. You couldn't help but think about how cute he looked in this moment.
"You remember asking who I was 'whipped' up for? The one I always complain to Suguru about?"
You slowly nodded your head.
"It's you. It's always been you. My heart always beat uncontrollably fast around you. All my thoughts are consumed by you and only you. I want you to be happy. I want you to smile. I never want to see you hurt. I don't ever want to see you sad. Lately, I’ve been thinking about what life would be like without you and... it's hard to imagine. I feel like there's this hole in my chest when I imagine what life would have been like without you. Maybe I have been denying my feelings for a long time despite knowing that I was in love."
You notice how Satoru was trembling. He was scared.
"I'm scared. I'm scared of these new and weird feelings in my chest. I'm scared of love. I'm scared of the changes it will bring. I'm scared of the pain of losing you because I love you. I'm scared to lose you. I'm scared to imagine my life without you. But I want you to be mine. I love you. I love you so much that I feel like dying without you. Will you please date me? Go on a date with me? Let me court you? Be my girlfriend? Let me call you mine? Please?"
You were beyond surprised. You didn’t expect him to confess to you out of everyone. You definitely didn’t expect him to pour out all his feelings either. But it was a pleasant surprise. You couldn’t help but smile gently at Satoru.
"Satoru." You said as you cupped his face.
He looks at you, eyes gleaming with anticipation and fear.
"I'll date you."
The second you said those three words, Satoru eyes light up with happiness.
"Really?" He asked as he took your hands off his cheek and into his own.
"Really."
Satoru immediately pulled you up from the swing, lifted you up, and spinned you around. He couldn't help but feel relieved that you agreed to date him. He felt extremely happy. He felt like he had the world in his hands, and in a way, he did. Because you are his world.
"Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you," he laughed.
You couldn't help but laugh along with him. After all, he had the brightest smile on his face right now. He was radiating pure happiness. He gently put you back down onto the ground and leaned down towards you.
"I want to kiss you. May I? Or am I moving too fast?"
You smiled, leaned in, and wrapped your arms around his neck– "You may."
He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer. When he leaned down and your lips gently connected, you felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach. A feeling of warmth spread across your body. It was like everything was perfect. Like it was meant to be. It felt just right.
When your lips parted, both of your cheeks were dusted with a shade of pink. You stared in each other's eyes for a moment before both of you crack a smile.
"About flipping time."
Both of you jumped and turned around to see Shoko and Suguru. Their eyes were sparkling, and they had a smirk on their face.
"You guys–" you started as you carried a massive blush on your face. "How long have you been there?"
"The whole time," Shoko laughed as she shook her head.
You looked down and then noticed that they hadn't brought any popsicles like they said they were going to.
"Man," Satoru whined and nuzzled against you. "You guys totally set this up, didn't you?"
A moment of silence passed before you let out a laugh. Your laugh caused Satoru to start laughing as well. Which ended up with all four of you standing there laughing.
In your mind right now, time stopped. All four of you together, the sun brightly shining, the wind gently blowing, the sky a beautiful blue, where all of you believed everything was going to be alright.
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Author's note: I struggled a lot with deciding the ending... I wanted it to be a happy ending, but I also originally planned for a sad ending. After going back and forth for a while, I decided a happy ending with a tiny hint of angst. 🩵
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myth1cs · 1 month ago
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Completing the mission (Myoui Mina x M!Reader)
Even more smut and I'm still sorry for it.
Word Count: 2067
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Mina was arriving at a party and preparing to carry out the mission
Her boss Bangchan has set her on an important mission to steal important documents from Y/N the host of the party.
Mina was an agent for hire. She didn't know the specifics for why Bangchan wanted her to steal those documents but as long as she was getting paid she could care less. She just needed to complete the mission whatever the cost.
Mina was struggling in her home life. It was hard to pay the bills and buy enough food to feed herself. So she decided to become an agent for hire, selling her services for a price. An expensive price, after all she was good at her job, she couldn't sell her skills for nothing after all.
This party was her best chance to steal the documents. If she failed then she wouldn't get paid and surely would be punished, the pressure was on.
As she was arriving at the door to enter the party she pulled out the invitation Bangchan gave her. Y/N sent Bangchan an invitation but he gave it to Mina and texted Y/N he would send his secretary in his place because he felt sick and wouldn't be able to attend.
Y/N believed Bangchan as he didn't think Bangchan had a reason to lie to him.
The guard at the door accepted Mina's invitation and let her in. Her mission had officially begun. As she walked in she saw some of the biggest CEO's from the biggest companies in the country. She felt a bit tense but she composed herself and started walking around to get a basic layout of Y/N's house.
As Mina walked through the house suddenly heard someone call her name.
"Hey I don't recognize you"
Mina turned around and she saw him the host of the party Y/N.
"I'm Bangchans secretary Mina he sent you a message telling you he would send me on his behalf." as Mina said this she noticed Y/N was trying to subtly scan her body. He didn't do a good job at it as Mina quickly caught him but she decided to stay quiet about it.
"Well Mina let me show you around it would be rude not to." Y/N said as he held his hand out to Mina. She was just trying to complete her mission and get out as quickly as possible but having a good relationship with Y/N could help lower her suspicion as she wasn't sure Y/N trusted her.
"Yeah sure." Mina said as she grabbed Y/N's hand.
Y/N walked her around his house introducing her to the other guests and asking her questions about her job.
Eventually Y/N took Mina to his winery. "Do you care for a drink Mina?" Y/N asked while grabbing a bottle.
"I could go for a drink but please let me fill your drink" Mina said trying to grab the bottle from Y/N's hands.
"Oh no let me I am your host after all, I should be the one treating my guests" Y/N said as he pulled the bottle away.
Mina was getting nervous, her original plan was to put sleeping pills into Y/N's drink so she could find the code to Y/N's safe and steal the documents without worrying about getting caught. She couldn't let Y/N serve the drinks.
"No really I insist" Mina said with a little more force which slightly shocked Y/N. He didn't know Mina could be so intense.
Y/N handed Mina the bottle "Well if you insist then I guess I won't stop you." He said while being a little scared of Mina.
"Hey Y/N could you bring some ice I like having my alcohol with ice" Mina didn't actually like her alcohol with ice she just needed an excuse to get Y/N out of the room.
"Sure I don't mind" Y/N said as he left the room. As soon as Y/N was out of sight she quickly grabbed the cups and started pouring the alcohol in them. Then she grabbed the pills and crunched them up and dropped them into Y/N's cup.
She quickly went to the bathroom and flushed the bottle that the pills were held in into the toilet.
When she got back she saw Y/N was already their.
"Where did you go Mina? You weren't here when I got back."
"I was just using the restroom" Mina quickly responded.
Y/N looked at her with a hint of doubt in his eyes but he just brushed it off.
Y/N picked up a glass and handed it to Mina. "Well let's drink up Mina and say cheers on behalf of Bangchan who couldn't make it today." Y/N said while smiling at her.
Mina grabbed the drink and did a toast with Y/N.
She started drinking her cup while carefully watching Y/N waiting to see any hints of sleepiness in him. She decided to stay near Y/N until she saw any signs of him getting tired.
Some time has passed and the party is still ongoing yet. She was sitting at a table in the corner of a room with Y/N and they've been talking this whole time and yet Mina hasn't seen any signs of tiredness from Y/N. She could have sworn the pills were supposed to take effect by now so what gives?
As Mina started thinking of why Y/N hasn't shown any signs of sleepiness she suddenly had a feeling not of tiredness but of something else.
She was getting horney.
She didn't understand why even if she did accidentally drink the cup she made for Y/N she should be getting sleepy not horney. But then Mina had a thought.
Before she left for her mission she grabbed a bottle from her drawer but she didn't bother to check the label as most of the pills she keeps are ones to put people to sleep. However she does keep one that holds a different type of pills. An aphrodisiac, she had it in case she ever needed it for a mission but she never actually intended to use it.
Mina realized she grabbed the wrong bottle from her drawer and now she was in big trouble. She thought she failed the mission since she was getting to friendly with Y/N earlier he would definitely notice if she was gone for a prolonged period of time and get suspicious.
But she couldn't admit defeat that easily she had to find a different way. As she started to think of something she could do she started to rub her thighs together to get some tension. Y/N kept talking to her about ... well who knows what she wasn't listening to him after all her mind was filled with panic, lust, and thoughts of how to get out of this situation.
"Mina are you okay? I feel like my words are going in one ear and leaving the other" Y/N said slightly annoyed that Mina wasn't paying attention to him.
"Uhm~ yeah I'm just ... very deep in thought" Mina said while feeling her face getting hotter. She needed something to relieve herself she couldn't focus on her mission until she felt relief.
"Mina if you need to lay down you can-" Before Y/N could finish his sentence he was cut off.
"Y/N show me to a room" Mina said in a desperate voice.
"O-okay Mina calm down" Y/N said a little confused on why Mina sounded so needy.
Y/N grabbed Minas hand and walked her to the guest bedroom. Mina was trying her best to hold urges but she was at her limit. Eventually they got to the guest bedroom and Y/N closed the door behind them.
"Well you can stay in here unt-" Y/N was quickly cut off by Mina who latched her lips onto his.
Y/N was shocked by the sudden move by Mina and pulled her off of him. "Mina what are you-"
Mina locked the door and looked at Y/N with lust in her eyes. "Y/N I saw you checking me out earlier, please I need you right now"
Y/N pulled Mina to him and kissed her back. Y/N's hands roamed Minas body. Y/N's hands reached down and squeezed Mina's butt. Mina moaned into Y/N's mouth.
"Ahh~ Fuck" Mina kept making noise under Y/N's touch. Their hands were roaming each other's bodies while lustfully kissing each other.
Mina was getting a little needy. She needed more than Y/N's touch. "Y/N get this dress off me" Mina said with urgency in her voice.
Y/N started to quickly take Mina's dress off exposing her breasts and pussy to the cold air.
Y/N put one hand on one of Mina's breasts and another on Mina's butt. Mina squirmed and she couldn't take it. "Y/N please touch me where I most need it"
Y/N liked seeing Mina so needy and he wasn't keen on giving Mina what she wanted so quickly.
Y/N pinched Mina's nipple and kissed her more roughly. "Now now Mina were getting a little too needy." As he said this he could see slight annoyance in Mina. "Oh shut up and put your dick in me"
Y/N picked Mina up and put her on the bed. "Such a dirty mouth you have Mina, what would Bangchan think if he heard such words coming from his secretary?"
"Oh shut up Y/N" Mina said with a mix of annoyance and neediness. She grabbed Y/N's hand and put it up to her pussy.
While Y/N did want to tease Mina, when he felt the warmth of Mina's pussy he lost all his will to continue teasing her and gave in.
Y/N fingered Mina's pussy in quick manner not letting Mina adjust to his fingers. "OH SHIT" Mina yelled but she quickly covered her mouth to muffle it. "Your so loud Mina do you want everyone to know how your getting fucked?"
Mina couldn't respond as she was too focused on the mix of pain and pleasure she was receiving. Y/N curled his fingers in Mina and it sent her closer to release. "I'm close"
When Y/N heard that he immediately pulled his fingers out. Mina whined when she felt his fingers leave as she was close to cumming. "Y/N you fucking bitch" Mina said while panting.
Y/N ignored Mina and took off his pants revealing his dick which was already hard. Mina gasped, she knew what was about to happen. "Y/N wait your not wearing any-"
Y/N ignored Mina's plea and shoved his dick in Mina. Mina almost let out a loud scream but quickly covered her mouth.
For the next few minutes Y/N pumped his dick in and out of Mina. Every now and then they would engage in a lustful kiss or put their hands on each other.
Eventually Y/N was getting at his limit. "Mina I'm going to cum" Y/N said feeling exhausted.
"Let me swallow your cum" Mina said. She really didn't want to but she needed a reason to not let Y/N cum in her.
Y/N got a few final pumps in before he exited Mina's warm and tight pussy. Mina sat up and took Y/N's dick in her mouth and started sucking. Not long after Y/N came in Mina's mouth.
After coming off from such a high Y/N got exhausted and fell asleep on the bed.
Mina swallowed the thick cum. She really didn't think Y/N would have so much cum in him. She got up and got herself clean with the tissues which were next to the bed.
Mina put on her dress and put perfume on her to get the smell of sex off of her.
She took this chance to go to Y/N's room to look for the code to the safe. She eventually found the code and typed it into the safe.
Mina left the party with the documents in hand. She got her phone and called Bangchan.
"I completed the mission"
------------------------------------------
"Wow myth1cs you really like yapping huh?"
Yes.
Also don't expect this type of schedule this is a rare case of me actually having motivation.
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explicit-tae · 9 months ago
Text
Nefarious (Prequel)
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a look back into your and jungkook's fatal attraction - before the marriage, kids and the detachment. @momnomnom @darkuni63 @sweetempathprunetree @minshookie29 @whipwhoops @eagleeye6669 @seokjinkismet @babycandy111 @bloodline1632
Valentine's Day Masterlist | Part One
Word Count: 5.051
Warning: gunplay, yandere tendancies, creampie, unprotected sex, squirting, nipple pinching, finger sucking, oral sex (m), rough sex, dirty talking, reckless driving, biting, breeding/impregnation kink, grinding/dry humping,
You never would have imagined walking into such a high end store such as this one. The ceilings are tall, the chandeliers shining such bright, white light down towards rows and rows of display boxes. 
Your heels click against the marble floor as you come closer to one display case - displaying several shining necklaces and bracelets. You smile softly, your manicured hand touching the glass case.
“These are new.” a woman comes from behind you. She has a Cheshire cat-like smile on her lips. “It’s completely covered in diamonds as you can see.” the woman proceeds to unlock the display case and grasp said necklace. Your eyes widen as it sparkles so beautifully. “It’s part of a complete set. Earrings, rings and necklaces.”
Your attire was what attracted the woman to you, her noticing expensive pieces that you wore. Jewelers are trained to notice high-end fashion - only a few who entered could ever afford such a luxurious handbag such as the one you sported. 
“Can I try it on?” you ask her. You made sure to come with no jewelry for this exact reason. 
“Of course!” the jeweler exclaims, unclasping the necklace and going around to put it on you. She directs you towards the medium, round mirror sitting on the glass display case. 
“It’s so lovely.” you marvel, touching your neck. 
“I’m sure your partner would love to see you buy it.” the woman pesters - it was her job to get you to buy whatever piece she could.  
“He would.” you smile, tilting your head to the side. “He’s the one paying for it.”
The woman nods her head. “So are you thinking just the necklace or the complete set?”
The jewelry store is nearly empty, only other couples being assisted by jewelers. There’s a soft tune playing in the background and the overall scenery is calm.
The calm doesn’t last long - screams erupt throughout once gunshots fire and the glass display  case are shattered. 
Heavy footsteps stomp around the jewelry store as more display cases are shattered. Familiar masked men enter, waving guns towards workers and customers. You all huddled onto the ground - some crying, others trembling in fear.
“Is this everyone working today?” one masked man asks, a familiar voice you remember. You swallow the lump in your throat as the masked man comes closer. 
“Y-yes!” one jewelry shrieks. 
You feel your hair being yanked roughly and you release a short hiss as you’re draggest to your feet. The gun is placed against your back.
“I know you jewelers wear your alarms now.” the masked man speaks. “You press it, she dies.” he shrugs. “Have fun sleeping at night after having a life on your hands.”
The sound of more glass shattering startles you slightly. The man pushes you away from the group as he proceeds to fill his own bag with the amount of expensive jewelry.
“Did you have to pull my hair so hard?” you murmur, feeling the gun against your back. 
“You love when I pull your hair.” Jungkook responds, his response muffled due to the mask. “Don’t think I didn’t hear you moan.”
You lick your lips with excitement - damn was Jungkook right.
Jungkook brought excitement to your once boring life. It didn’t take long for him to meet with you again. You never asked how he found where you lived - nor did you complain. You recall the adrenaline that ran through that night he returned. You had just finished your shower, the towel wrapped firmly around you. You proceeded with your skin care, humming a melodic tone when the door to your bathroom was slammed open. You screamed naturally, caught off guard, but you recognized the build of the man coming towards you. 
“You look so scared.” that familiar voice spoke to you, a mask covering his face. He wrapped a firm hand around your neck, pressing you against your shower door. “Thought you wanted to see me again?”
“I do.” you huff, heart beating rapidly out your chest. “Missed feeling your hands on me.”
You were playing with him, Jungkook thought at that moment. Playing a dangerous game that you weren’t going to get out of easily.
“Only a dumb bitch would threaten me the way you did.” Jungkook pressed himself firmly against your body. 
“Are you mad?” you asked. “Jungkook?”
Jungkook groaned, his name sounded so beautifully coming from your lips. 
“I’m just as helpless as I was that day.” you giggled, eyelashes batting at him. “And here you are so strong and powerful…” your hand was touching his chest and running slowly up his own neck. “...and I’m naked and defenseless.”
Jungkook never harmed women - especially you. But you wished to see a reaction out of you - something that wasn’t your usually lax and calm self. He had pointed his gun at you, safety on, of course, and his eyes waited to see just how you’d respond. There was the possibility that you would respond the same way you did at the bank - give him absolutely nothing; no fear or sadness.
What Jungkook wasn’t expecting was for you to wrap your lips around the tip of his gun, your eyes never leaving his. He swallowed as his eyes watched you, unable to even as much as blink as you brought it deeper into your mouth. 
Jungkook regained his senses when your tongue wrapped around it, almost as if being brought back to reality and you could only giggle innocently. “Jung…Kook…?”
Your fingers touched the bottom of his mask as he was caught off guard, your eyes stared into the eyeless socket of his mask. You begin to slowly lift the mask mischievously, a glint in your eyes.
The hand around your neck tightens only slightly. 
“I can’t see your face?” you asked teasingly. “You have such pretty lips.”
You were dangerous - the devil. You were sweet talking to him so easily and without noticing, you managed to escape his hold and press your lips to his own, his mask only lifted enough for his lips to be revealed.
Jungkook couldn’t help himself - he had to fuck you. He didn’t know where your room was but he wasn’t against opening every door until he found it. Your towel had long since been discarded as his cock plunges inside of you.
Your moans filled the air - such submissive moans. You begged Jungkook for more; pleaded to be fucked and full of him that he couldn’t help but comply. He’s far into the spell that was you that he doesn’t realize you’ve managed to pull his mask right off of him - not until he feels your soft palm against his cheek.
Your eyes stay on Jungkook’s face - the smoothness of his skin, the light scars on his cheek. His hair bounces with each thrust and to you, this was the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. Your pussy continues to clench around the man - the same man who had broken into your apartment - and you desperately wanted more and more.
You connected your lips to Jungkook’s again and again - and he could only fuck into you deeper and harder. He was correct, he thought, you were something straight from Hell that has come on Earth to distract him; taunt him. He had lowered his guard when around you - nothing but a mere woman who could never rival him in strength. Yet, you had managed to make him vulnerable; you saw his face. You had him moaning for you, his hands roaming your body.
“You have somewhere to be?” you asked, naked body seated right on top of Jungkook’s. Your hand placed itself on his shoulders, your hips buckling up and down. “Sad…I was hoping you’d stay here with me tonight.”
Jungkook had, against his morality, stayed with you. His tongue licked upon your skin, teeth nibbled on the flesh. It was as if he was intoxicated from you alone, unable to make rational decisions for himself. This was forbidden, he thought, to be so consumed by a woman that it would cloud his judgment - but you weren’t just any woman.
“The necklace is nice on you.” Jungkook murmurs, weapon on your back as he proceeds to empty the display case. 
“Thank you…” your body heats up at the compliments, like a giddy child. Jungkook always knows what to say to make you this way, as pathetic as it was. He was a career thief, someone you met while he was literally robbing the bank you worked. But somehow, you never felt so warm around another man.
“Let’s head out!” one masked man had yelled - you recall the voice, but have yet to be introduced to any of the others. You’re unsure if they would even like you and Jungkook being associated with one another.
“I’ll be in a car out back. Just cut through the alleyway.” Jungkook murmurs. He then roughly pushes you forward - not as hard for you to be hurt, but enough for you to stumble. 
You watch as the seven men scurry off, the cries of the customers and workers being to hit your eardrums, along with a few gasps and moans. Your heels click as you make your way out of the jewelry store, the other hostages close behind you.
You do as Jungkook told you to, dipping between an alleyway and meeting him around behind the store. The car is black and the windows are tinted so dark that it’s nearly impossible to look inside, but you’ve been in this car many times before to know it belongs to Jungkook.
You make your way around the passenger side and swing the door open and jump inside. Without even allowing you to close the door fully, Jungkook begins to drive.
“How was your first Heist?” Jungkook laughs gleefully, masked discarded in the backseat of the car. He hits a sharp right turn, speeding down the road.
You roll your eyes. “It wasn’t a big one like the bank robbery.” your heart is pumping outside your chest, however, and adrenaline is flowing through you. “But it was such…a rush!” you squeal gleefully that Jungkook couldn’t help but shake his head.
“You’re so weird.” he places his right hand onto your thigh. “Is your life really that boring that you want to risk getting caught with me?”
It was and Jungkook knows it - you were the one who suggested the jewelry heist and Jungkook was the first to agree and bring it up to the rest of the group. 
“I have a surprise for you back home.” Jungkook’s palm squeezes your thigh, car dashing past other cars without a care in the world. If the windows were down, the wind would be flowing through your hair and clothes. It’s crazy how with Jungkook, you never felt scared or unsafe - even if he did perform heists weekly and drive 100 miles an hour.
“Oh? A surprise?” you turn towards the man fully. “Like what?”
“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.” Jungkook snorts, but his lips form a smirk. “Do you not know what today is?”
You furrow a brow and shake your head. It was any other day to you. You don’t work anymore and whatever you needed was fully supplied by Jungkook - so you had no need to look at your calendar.
“It’s Valentine’s Day.” Jungkook squeezes your thigh again, speaking matter-of-factly. “Girl’s usually take this day seriously.”
You snort. “You take this day seriously?”
Jungkook glances your way and raises a brow. “I said I had a surprise for you, didn’t I?” he retorts. He’s now driving down a long, straight road out of the city. “Not including the jewelry in the backseat.”
Your eyes widened and your head whips around to  look at the large sacks of bags, all full of the jewelry stolen from the display cases.
“I thought you and the other were going to re-sell them?” you recall Jungkook stating that they had buyers willing to collect such pieces. 
“We do. But,” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “it’s Valentine’s Day. Take what you like and I’ll sell the rest.”
Your heart leaps and without thinking, you crush Jungkook in a hug. The car swerves a bit and he curses trying to see the road with the speed he’s going. 
“Are you trying to kill us?!” Jungkook hisses, but he could only laugh as his heart pounds outside his chest due to the sudden scare, adrenaline running through him. 
It doesn’t take long for Jungkook to drive into a large estate, one that has your eyes widening at how massive it was. 
“How many heists do you guys go on to afford living here?” you joke.
“Heists is not the only thing we do, baby.” Jungkook snorts. “That’s all I’m willing to tell you.” he pulls into the driveway of the estate and turns off the car. “Surprise.” he winks.
“You’re so cheesy.” you snort, opening the door and getting out. “What exactly am I supposed to be surprised about?”
Jungkook strolls around to stand beside you. “This is one of the surprises. I bought this home for us.” he responds. “The penthouse life is behind me now.” He has brought many women into said Penthouse - and not you. You were different from the other women. 
You stop and look at him, laughing to yourself. 
Only Jungkook doesn’t laugh back with you at how crazy he sounds. He only blinks and gives you a pointed look.
“You’re serious…?” you swallow, laughter dying down.
“I would never tell you a lie.”
Your eyes begin to grow wide and slowly, you turn back to the large estate. You inhale. “I-I don’t know what to say.”
Jungkook takes your hand, leading you towards the inside of the mansion. The doors are tall and they open with ease. It’s empty inside, the grand entrance held high ceilings with a chandelier right in the middle of it, accompanied with a staircase leading up the second story of the home. 
“I was hoping you’d decorate it.” Jungkook speaks, an echo speaking right after him due to the empty estate. “Add a bit of feminine touch.”
“You’re serious.” you murmur, and even that had a slight echo. Your eyes are still wide as you glance from Jungkook to around the luxurious home. “You must really like me.”
Jungkook snickers and bites the inside of his cheek.
“You might as well get to marrying me.” you joke, stepping deeper into the home. 
“We can.”
“Ugh, shut up.” It was hard to take Jungkook seriously at times. “This house must’ve cost a fortune.”
Jungkook shrugs. “Nothing I couldn’t afford.” he says truthfully. His arms reach out to grab you by your shoulder and he turns you around. “I’m a man of my word, Y/N.” he says seriously, lax tone gone. “There’s no going back to whatever life you’ve had before.”
You knit your brows at his words.
“You’re not leaving me.” Jungkook continues with a slight shake of his head. “I’m going to marry you to offer you the security you need incase…my lifestyle catches up with me.”
Jungkook’s dark eyes stare into your own eyes and you blink. 
Jungkook was serious.
“I do own several legitimate businesses that would be tied to your name. You will have access to all my legitimate funds as well as to any assets if I were to die.”
“You’re scaring me.” you murmur, trying to pull yourself away from him.
Jungkook clenches onto you tighter, this time wrapping you in a bear-like hug. He wants to laugh - because now you were scared? Not when he pulled a gun on you several times? Not when he and his friends robbed the Bank you worked at?
You were a weird one - but he liked it.
“I don’t mean to.” Jungkook murmurs. “I want to make sure you’re safe even if I’m not here.”
You swallow a lump in your throat. You know what Jungkook does on the base level - but what else is he involved in that would make him go through this much trouble?
“What-”
“I cannot tell you just yet what I do.” Jungkook interrupts, already understanding what you’re about to ask. “Once you and I are married, you can know everything and anything. I will not hide myself from you.”
“T-That’s how you’re going to ask me to marry you?” Once more, you try to lighten the tense mood. 
Jungkook presses a kiss against your forehead. “I’m sorry if you think I’m moving too fast.” he states sincerely. “Truth is, Y/N, you know too much of my life already. I’ve grown to like you and soon, love you. You’ll fit right into my world, but I need to make sure that I am safe, as well.” he explains. “If something were to happen, you cannot be caught in the middle of it.”
Jungkook is talking in circles, being as vague as possible.
“Have you ever been caught before?”
Jungkook shakes his head no. “Doesn’t mean it won’t ever happen. I want to be prepared.” he presses another kiss on you, this time your cheek. “Spousal testimonial privilege. You won’t be able to testify against me and if I would go down for what I’ve done, you would inherit everything. The businesses I own are 100% authentic and clean.”
Jungkook watches your reaction as he continues to hold you close to him. You blink away for a bit and he’s wondering just what you’re thinking. He understands that he wasn’t giving you a direct choice - but you gave him little choice upon meeting him. You lived a boring life and this was your time to live the life you wanted - the life he desired to give you.
“Just who are you exactly, Jungkook?” you turn your eyes back to him and sigh, a small grin forming onto your lips.
“Jeon Jungkook.” the man responds, kissing your lips. “The man you’re going to marry.”
You couldn’t keep your hands off of Jungkook and neither could he. It took only mere minutes for the two of you to be tangled within one another in said empty mansion. He had shown you one of the bedrooms - possibly the size of the apartment you lived in with a full bath and shower on one side, and a complete closet on the side. You were ecstatic in knowing that this home was yours - that you and Jungkook were going to be sharing your lives with one another.
It was soon and probably the quickest you’ve ever moved in a relationship - but in Jungkook’s line of work, he was determined in thinking of the future. He couldn’t have you in the middle of his business if you and he weren’t fully committed to one another.
“Are we gonna have a wedding?” you ask him, lips kissing down his neck, thighs on either side of his. 
“Is…that what you want?” Jungkook responds between pants, his hands gripping your waist like his life depended on it. 
“Never thought about it.” you admit, suckling on a certain part of his neck that you know drives him crazy. “Never really saw myself…as a wife.” you want to laugh at the circumstances that even someone like you could get a husband. Even if the way you met him wasn’t exactly ideal - or his job wasn’t something to brag about to anyone.
“It’s whatever you want to do.” Jungkook moans, wrapping his arms around you. The palms of his hand feel like heaven as they get to feel your curves; they slide down until they reach your ass and he squeezes it roughly in his hands.
You lean back, a sparkle of mischief in your eyes. Your hands place themselves on his shoulders for support. “You propose to me with no ring?” you tilt your head teasingly. “All of you men are the same.”
Jungkook snickers. “You’re right. But I gave you a bag full of jewelry to choose from, didn’t I?” his hand roam upwards, eyes glancing at how good you looked on top of him. “I do want to get you one custom made,” he murmurs, eyes flickering back to yours. “a new one after each milestone in our marriage.”
“Oh?” you’re amused, but highly curious on what he’s speaking of. “Like what?” you ask. 
“Like our anniversary and our first child for starters.” Jungkook begins, blinking at you as if it’s obvious. 
“Who knew the thief could be so cheesy.” you say, but your body heats up with an abundance of emotion. “And if I don’t give you a child?”
“You would.” Jungkook snickers, hands gliding upwards. He slides them past your breast to your shoulders to up your neck. He reaches your hace and he grasps them with both hands. “I’m not picky with the gender, as long as you and them are healthy, I’ll be alright.” 
Fuck, you think, now you were growing even wetter as the seconds went on. He was a smooth talker, especially after the months dragged on that the two of you began hooking up.
“It’s not like you’d have to work. That’s what I’m here for.”
Fuck him again - this time for slightly grinding against your clothed center, the bulge in his pants rubbing against you. Your panties weren’t anything special but cotton, but they were a thin material that had you feeling every bit of his erection.
Your right hand, delicate and soft, grips his wrist in the palm of your hands. You watch him entirely as you bring his thumb into your mouth, tongue wrapping around it as you begin to suck.
Jungkook’s breath hitches as he watches you. “You were sent straight from hell.” he grumbles, eyes never blinking. “Someone to slow me down and distract me. That’s all you’ve been doing since I met you.”
You knit your brows innocently, but you continue to suck, hips grinding along with his. 
“But I know how to tame someone like you,” Jungkook continues and without warning, his free hand wraps around your neck harshly. You gasp at the action, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on even more. “I know how to make someone like you submit.”
“I never went against you, haven’t I?” you murmur, hand squeezing his wrist. “I have always been good to you.”
“That you have.” Jungkook agrees with a nod of his head. “And this is why I will be good for you. Make you my wife and give you everything you desire, right?”
His hands are rough as they slide down to grip your breast harshly in his palm. 
“Right?” Jungkook repeats, this time his voice is deeper; demanding. 
“Yes!” you quip, yelping at the pleasurable pain of his grip.
“Good.” Jungkook forces you down by your neck and crashes his lips against yours in a needy, wet kiss. You moan into it, your hips continue to buckle until you and him both have to breathe.
You decide not to waste anymore time. This was now your life - you were going to marry Jungkook soon and this would be your home; it was only right to show your gratitude. 
You slide yourself off of him, eyes never leaving his as you lower yourself to his crotch. Jungkook already knows your intentions and he watches intently, waiting for your move.
You’re quick with it, unbuckling his suit pants and yanking them down. His cock is hard and it appears damn near painful as it’s stuffed in his underwear.
You lick your lips, fingers pulling them down by the logo hem, salivating as it springs out. The tip is red and needy, a bit of pre-cum dripping from it. 
Jungkook winces when you wrap your tongue onto his tip and begin to suck, your tongue circling it like a lollipop.
“Oh, shiiit.” Jungkook slams his head against the floor, eyes fluttering close. His legs tremble as your mouth devours him, going deeper and deeper until he feels his tip hit the back of your throat.
But you tease him - because of course you do. You would pull at the way out and teasingly slide your tongue across the tip and then without warning, would bring him all the way into your mouth and gag on it - repeatedly.
The act of pleasuring Jungkook makes you wet, your panties completely soaked. Your hands wrap around his shaft and you begin to pump him as you suck, filthy noises coming from your throat doing so.
Jungkook has a hard time breathing and he wants nothing more than to cum - on you or in you, whichever he could manage. His first mistake was to open his eyes and watch you - because you were so slutty. So beautiful. Your eyes are watery and theirs saliva covering the corners of your cheeks, but you take his so good that he cannot help but want to give you anything you wanted - another mansion? More jewelry? A few cars so you could drive a different one every day of the week?
Jungkook yanks you off of him by your hair with a loud grunt, his cock springing out and hitting you right in the face. It causes you to moan at the action.
“Can’t handle it?” you gurgle out - still teasing even if your throat hurts a bit. 
“Would rather cum in you.” Jungkook retorts, gripping your hair tighter in his grasp. “I know how much you love to be filled.”
“Just as much as you love filling me up.” you’re quick with your response, watery eyes challenging him. Your hips shake a bit, as if signaling to come and take what was his.
Jungkook didn’t have to be told twice. He’s behind you in a blink of an eye, not bothering to remove the rest of his clothing or yours - he instead yanks your panties down and spreads your legs to the side. Your dress slides up instantly and within seconds, he’s inside of you.
Your head is forced down to the ground, his hand tangled into your hair. He proceeds to pound into you with might, wet skin slapping against one another. He’s grunting so loud, not holding himself back - this was his home. He could fuck you as rough as he wanted against any part of it without you worrying about your neighbors hearing. He could have you scream as loud as you desired.
Your pussy squeezes Jungkook lovingly, adoring every bit of dominance he was giving it. He’s so deep, pouding in and out of you without a care. Jungkook was always so rough and possessive, telling you that your pussy was his and just how much he loved it. You recall one time you and he had been doing the same thing and how he admitted that he would kill anyone you allowed to fuck what was his - as crazy as it sound, it caused you to cum on the spot.
Maybe you were a little insane for getting yourself involved with someone like Jungkook - but at times like this, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
“I want to hear you.” Jungkook forces you back against his chest, a hand around your neck to keep you in place. 
Your knees are going to be bruised due to the floor, but it was nothing. You moaned louder at the new position, his cock feeling deeper than ever imaginable. Your breasts are let free due to his powerful thrust and he grips one in his hand, the other firmly holding your hips.
“S-So…deep…” you cry, arousal coating his cock and dripping down your bare thighs - just how he liked it. 
Jungkook’s finger pinches your nipples while his teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder. The great need to hurt you while he pleases you flows through him and he’s unsure why. Maybe because you never tell him you didn’t like it - you loved when he slapped you around while fucking you, biting you while he sucks upon your skin.
You were the devil in disguise, always pulling your own surprises; biting him back while you’d ride him and even slapping him because even he enjoyed it.
“Gonna cum deep inside of you.” Jungkook snarls, letting go of your breast to aggressively rub along onto your clit. “Again and again and again until you’re pregnant.”
The thought didn’t sound half bad - or maybe it was the pleasure talking. 
“Please…” you plead, lust flowing through you. You’re squirming with overstimulation, eyes beginning to water, but even then you didn’t want Jungkook to stop. “...feels so good, Kookie.”
“I know, baby.” Jungkook grunts, kissing the spot he previously bit. “Let’s cum together, yeah?”
Jungkook cannot fathom how someone could be so wet - you were dripping all over the place. He cannot wait to taste your pussy later, but you and he had all day - forever as he had no intentions of ever letting you leave him.
Your body falls limp against his chest as your high comes, arousal sprouting out from you just as Jungkook’s cum sprouts deep inside of you. It’s warm as it always is and he doesn’t want to pull out, his ultimate goal was to impregnate you at all costs.
Jungkook lays beside you on the floor, breathing heavily. You always knew how to make him cum hard each time - truly was the devil in disguise.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Jungkook snorts. “Normal girls go to dinner, not perform heists.”
You grumble. “Normal guys actually get on one knee to propose with a ring.” you shot back and Jungkook could only laugh.
“You are right.” Jungkook lifts from the ground. “We aren’t a normal couple, aren’t we?” he says, grabbing your hand to kiss it. “That’s what makes us special.”
You snicker, but you knew Jungkook was right. You get up from your laying position to compose yourself, pulling up your panties and fixing your dress. 
“Let’s go to dinner then.” Jungkook does the same as you. “Anywhere you want. Afterwards, I need to show you the business we have.”
“You’re actually serious about marrying me. Thought that was just good pussy getting to your head.” you joke. 
“I’m a man of my word, baby.” Jungkook stands and offers you a hand to take. “You’re never leaving me. To death do we part.”
How true Jungkook’s promise to you was.
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hoodielord · 11 months ago
Text
Green eyes in the fear fog.
For half a second, Steph thought today would be a decent day. But no, not in Gotham.
Steph's current events professor, who was also the head of student affairs, had offered extra credit to help give college tours. Look, she had to take the extra credit she had to, even if it meant that she had to be a tour guide. It wasn't hard, just annoying.
The group was small, only five people, but two of them stuck out. A brother and sister. The brother was the definition of adoption bait blue eyes, black hair, vigilante tendencies withholding. The sister was at least as tall as Jason. She had orange hair just like Babs, you'd think they were related.
Anyways, Steph's new mission was to make sure the kid and Dick never met. The kid would not stop making puns. Some of them earned him a laugh but some earned him a smack from his sister.
"Aw, come on, Jazz, it was funny."
"You can do better." she shrugged.
" Sounds like a challenge." A wicked smirk appeared on his face.
" Danny, please don't."
"Challenge accepted."
Yep, I'm definitely keeping him away from Dick.
But something was off about them other than looking at the crime capital's university. They could probably be metahumans. Their eyes seemed to slightly glow blue. They carried themselves as they had already expected danger. I mean, it pays to be prepared, especially in Gotham, but they aren't from here.
If the siblings weren't already on a list B has they should be now. Jazz had been almost ecstatic when we were moving through the psychology department. Danny was practically bouncing off the walls when it was time to go through the engineering and physics departments. Definitely should keep an eye on them.
It was reaching the end of the tour in the cafeteria. Another weird thing about the siblings was their reaction to food. They seemed to have this sort of optimistic curiosity like they were happy to have food to eat, but at the same time, they were poking to make sure it wouldn't attack or something.
Talking with the siblings was interesting too. Danny was buzzing about the engineering department. He went into a great rant about a project that Wayne Enterprises was working on in the aerospace engineering division. Maybe she should keep him away from Tim, too.
The conversation died quickly when a shriek rang out from down the hall. Steph turned quickly to see green fear toxin fill the cafeteria. Swarms of people ran for the exits knocking each over. She quickly dug through her bag and pulled out her gas masks, one for her and her backup.
"Jazz? Jazz, where did you go?" Danny called. They must have gotten separated.
Damn, she needed another one for the siblings. She shoved her spare into Danny's hands.
" Put the mask on and head for the exit."
"But I need to find Jazz."
"I'll find her. Put the mask on and go." Steph yelled as she went further into the fog. Quickly, she sent an alert to Oracle. Signal is on patrol right now, but more bats might show up.
It was dense she could barely see in front of her. There was some noise up ahead. Someone was screaming. The yelling grew louder as she rounded the corner.
"Stop! Get away!"
It was Jazz. She was practically growling. Her fist slammed into the concrete wall, leaving a deep impact. She was clearly affected by the Fear gas. A meta affected with fear gas, not good.
"Stop! Don't hurt him. He's not a monster! He's my little brother!" Jazz had gone from fury to sadness as she practically begged for her hallucination to stop haunting her.
If it wasn’t the meta thing it was whatever she was hallucinating that caught Steph’s attention. Definitely on B's list now.
"Isn't it interesting what fear does to the mind?"
Steph saw Scarecrow emerge from the fog.
"I saw you in the psychology department. Your eyes lit up like a fire. But now they are clouded with fear."
A chill went up Steph's spine. She quickly checked her mask for leaks but didn't have any. Turning her attention back to Jazz and Scarecrow, she saw something. Green eyes shifted inside the fog. They looked like a predator hunting its prey. For a second, they look like Jason's.
From behind Scarecrow, the eyes stopped, and a figure emerged. A baseball bat slammed into Scarecrow's face, knocking him to the floor. The figure came into full view now. It was Danny his eyes were glowing green.
He knelt down to Scarecrow.
"You really don't have any brains. Do you Scarecrow? If you did, you wouldn't have hurt my sister." His voice was downright, frigid.
He turned and rushed over to Jazz who was still trying to convince her hallucinations to stop.
"Jazz, it's okay. Come on, I'm fine. It's okay." His voice was soft and gentle as he helped her up. Jazz mumbled a little as she stumbled down the hall.
Steph quickly caught up to the siblings slinging Jazz's arm over her shoulder.
"Sorry, I couldn't help earlier," Steph spoke quietly.
"It's fine. Not everybody can be a hero."
Steph wanted to laugh at the irony of that statement, but she just nodded.
"Sorry about the tour too."
"It wasn't all bad."
" Oh, the rouge attack and poisoning wasn’t bad?" Steph asked sarcastically.
" Our hometown is haunted and our community college is funded by my godfather. And he is a rich fruit loop.”
‘Ghosts?’
“You know Gotham University is funded by Wayne Enterprises right?”
“Annoying crazy fruit loop or weird himbo? Hmmm. Yeah, I’m going to have to go with the himbo on this one.”
Steph laughed at that one. Bruce is going to want to hear about this but she’ll keep him away from these siblings for a little while.
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