#that man does not look like he has a dick in that pic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelmillerisapunk · 10 months ago

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Dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 7,103 - oops

Summary: When Joel accidentally stumbles upon your only fans he convinces himself he's only subscribing to help you through college. And then you send him his top-tier subscriber personal video and he's fucked because you don't even know it's him your dad's best friend.

Warnings: 18+, reader has an only fans, unprotected p in v, f!andm! oral receiving, age gap (at least 10 years), reader is in her 20's, alcohol consumption, there's a dick pic, reader posts nudes of herself on her OF so if you do not like that please scroll awaaaaaay thanks <3 two consenting adults.

Notes: I listened to Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter a hundred too many times and couldn't sleep on this random idea. I got carried away, this was supposed to be a short one-shot and then I fell in love and married the idea so here we are. Tysm @saradika-graphics for the divider.

Joel’s never been on a site like this.

But his best buddy's enthusiasm was infectious. Convincing him that it's all the hype, ‘You should see the women on there man.’ So, after a long day at work, followed by a shower, he is perched in front of his computer, the screen's glow illuminating his skepticism.

With a deep breath, he navigates to the website, his fingers poised hesitantly over the keys. He starts scrolling through the front page, taking in the various content that is being shared. It's all very different from anything he's ever seen before, but he can see why his friend is so excited about it.

As he continues scrolling Joel's eyes widen in surprise. There you are right on the front page, not too far from the top, his friend's daughter, exuding confidence in a bikini and a sexy little pose, the very picture of carefree youth.

Denial is his first reaction as he quickly minimises the page, not believing he just saw that. It couldn't have been you. No way. But curiosity, that relentless beast, coaxes him back to the screen. The second glance confirms it; it's undeniably you, and the realization sends a jolt through him. He clicks on your profile, the rabbit hole beckoning.

His heart races as he sees more and more photos of you. Wearing lingerie in some of them, and bikinis in others, but never anything less. Then he finds the section with your paid content, looming like a forbidden fruit. The greyed-out thumbnails tease his imagination. He notices that he has to pay to see them and his mind races. What kinda stuff you got hidin’ here pretty girl?

Joel stops for a moment, unsure if he should really pay to see hidden content but before he can talk himself out of it, he enters his payment information, the justification that he is supporting you echoes hollowly in his mind. He clicks "subscribe." As soon as he does, the greyed-out photos become clear, and Joel's eyes widen in shock. He can't believe what he's seeing. You, completely naked, posing in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination.

He feels a mix of emotions - excitement, guilt, confusion. He knows he shouldn't be looking at these photos, but he can't help himself. He tells himself that it's just for a few minutes, just to see what's there. That he's just being curious, that he's just supporting you. But deep down, he knows that's not the whole truth and he knows that he'll be coming back to these photos again and again.

For now, though, he tells himself that it's okay. He's just satisfying his curiosity, and he's supporting his friend's daughter at the same time. He tells himself that it's a win-win situation, and he settles back in his chair to enjoy the photos. But as he scrolls through the photos, he can feel himself getting more and more aroused. He starts to rub his cock through his pants, and before long, he's jerking off to the images on the screen. knowing that he's doing something wrong but unable to stop himself.

Just as he's about to come, he gets a message from the website. It's from you, and you're thanking him for subscribing to the highest tier, where he gets a personal video from you.

Joel's heart races as he reads the message, wondering if you know it's him. But as he reads on, he realizes that you don't. You're just being friendly, asking him what he'd like to see you do or say in a personal video.

Joel pauses, wrestling with the decision. The offer is tantalizing, and he can feel the pull of his curiosity. He rationalizes that it's merely a harmless video, an extra indulgence. With a mix of excitement and trepidation, he convinces himself that there's no harm in satisfying his curiosity just this once.

Joel takes a deep breath and types out a reply to you, asking if you could wear a school girl uniform in the video. He feels a twinge of guilt for asking, but he can't help being curious what you would look like in one and how he would feel bending you over his knee in one.

—

A few days later, Joel receives a notification that his personal video is ready to be viewed. He takes his time, feeling guilty all over again but evidently he clicks on the link and waits for the video to load.

When the video starts, he's greeted with the sight of you, wearing a plaid skirt and a white blouse, looking as sexy as ever. You start to unbutton your blouse, revealing a lacy bra underneath. Joel feels his face flush with heat as he watches you, his heart pounding in his chest.You continue to tease him, running your fingers through your hair and biting your lower lip. Joel can feel himself getting more and more aroused, his cock straining against his pants.

Finally, you slip out of your skirt and bra, revealing your naked body underneath. Joel watches in amazement as you pose. And if that wasn't enough then you started talking to him, looking directly into the camera and speaking in a sultry voice. "Hi there, cowboy," you say, a playful smile on your lips. "I hope you're enjoying the video so far. I know I'm enjoying making it for you."

You run your hands over your body, caressing your breasts and your hips. "Do you like what you see?" you ask, your voice dripping with suggestion. "I've been thinking about you. Wondering what you're doing right now. Are you touching yourself? Are you thinking about me?"

You lean closer to the camera, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "I've been thinking about you too, baby. Wondering what it would be like to be with you. To feel your hands on my body."

You sit down on a black spinning chair, manoeuvring your legs so youre on full display for the camera, your fingers find your clit. "I'm so wet for you, daddy.” You moan out.

You start to touch yourself in earnest, your fingers moving faster and faster. "M’so close," you say, your breath coming in short gasps. "I want you to come with me. I want you to feel what I'm feeling. I want you to come for me daddy."

You throw your head back and moan, your body shudders with pleasure. "Yes, daddy. Yes! I'm coming so hard for you."

As the video comes to an end, you look back at the camera, your eyes shining with satisfaction. "I hope you enjoyed that, cowboy, can't wait to see what we do next.”

As the video comes to an end, Joel can't believe what he's just witnessed. He feels his orgasm building up inside of him, and before he knows it, he's coming in his pants - just from watching you.

As he looks back at the screen, he sees that there's a message waiting for him from you. You're thanking him for watching the video and asking if he enjoyed it. Damn you're quick with these messages. He didn't even know you could tell he watched it.

He stares at the screen for a moment unsure what to say

cowboy_jm: Yeah, I really enjoyed it. Thanks for making it for me darlin.

He hits send, feeling so awkward and out of his element. He hasn't flirted with another woman in ages and the fact you're at least ten years younger than him doesn't make it any easier.

A few moments later, he gets a reply from you.

you: I'm glad you enjoyed it, cowboy 😘 I had a lot of fun making it for you. Do you want to see more?

He shouldn't, he should just shut his computer down and cancel the membership later. But he can't, he can't help himself.

cowboy_jm: Yeah, I'd like that.

You send him a picture, and he feels his heart race as he opens it. It's a selfie of you, wearing the plaid skirt and white blouse from the video, with a playful smile on your lips.

you: Here's a little something extra for you, cowboy. I hope you like it. 😏

You can't do this for every top tier subscriber, could you? Then again the price tag did promise a lot more than the others did. Maybe not a lot of people were desperate enough to need to be talked up by a pretty little thing like you. But damn was he enjoying it.

cowboy_jm: Wow, you look absolutely stunning in that outfit. I could get used to seeing you like this.

You: Oh, I bet you could. 😉 You know, I've always wanted to ride a cowboy... or his horse.

Joel feels his face flush with heat as he reads your message. He can't believe you just said that, but he's also incredibly turned on. He's never had a conversation like this before, but he's finding that he really enjoys it.

cowboy_jm: Well, I'm sure we can work something out. I've got a pretty big horse.

you: Oh, I bet you do. I've always been a fan of big horses. Maybe one day I'll get to ride yours.

cowboy_jm: You can ride my horse anytime you want, darlin'. I promise you won't be disappointed.

you: I can't wait.

As the conversation comes to a close, Joel feels a sense of dread wash over him. He knows he's made a mistake. He tells himself that he'll figure something out later.

—

As you close your laptop, a thrill of excitement runs through you. The conversation has been so thrilling, so charged with flirtation and innuendo. You can tell whoever is behind this cowboy profile is probably a little older and not too experienced on a site like this.

You decide to do a little more digging before sending him anything else. You navigate to his profile, curious to learn more about this mysterious cowboy who's captured your interest. As you scroll through his vague faceless pictures and read his bio, your heart skips a beat. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks: "cowboy_jm" is none other than Joel Miller, your dad's best friend. The one coming over tomorrow for a BBQ

The shock is palpable. You've known Joel your entire life. He's been a constant presence at family barbecues, holiday gatherings, and birthday parties. The thought of him seeing your content, let alone subscribing to your highest tier, is both mortifying and exhilarating. You can't help but feel a twinge of guilt, but it's quickly overshadowed by a surge of mischievous excitement. The idea of playing a game with Joel, of having this secret, is too tempting to pass up. You decide to have a little fun with the situation. After all, he's the one who's been flirting with you, who's been watching your videos and messaging you. You tell yourself that he's a willing participant in this little charade.

With a playful smile, you decide to up the ante. You want to see just how far Joel is willing to go. You open up your messaging app and start typing.

you: Hey cowboy, I was just trying to get to sleep but need a little help. How about how about you send me a little something? 😉

You hit send and wait for his response. You know you're playing with fire, but you can't help yourself. You want to see if he's really as adventurous as he's been pretending to be. As you wait for his reply, you can't help but feel a sense of power. You're in control of this situation, and you're going to enjoy every minute of it. You know you should probably feel guilty for manipulating Joel like this, but the thrill of the game is too intoxicating.

Finally, your notifications go off, and you see a new message from Joel. You take a deep breath and open it.

cowboy_jm: Oh? And what did you have in mind, darlin'?

you: Well, I was thinking... maybe you could send me a little something to hold me over until I can have that ride. 😉

You hold your breath, waiting for his response. You're not sure if he'll go for it, but you're hoping he will.

cowboy_jm: I don't know, darlin'. I'm not sure if that's such a good idea.

you: Oh, come on, cowboy. I promise I'll make it worth your while. 😏

cowboy_jm: Well, I suppose I could make an exception... just this once.

You feel a surge of excitement as you read his message. You can't believe he's actually going to do it!

cowboy_jm: But you have to promise me something, darlin'. You have to promise that this stays between us. I don't want anyone else seein’

what I'm about to send you.

you: Oh, I promise. I won't tell a soul. 😉

cowboy_jm: Alright, darlin'. Here it is. 😘

As you gaze at the image Joel has sent, your breath hitches in your throat. The sight of his cock is both surprising and incredibly arousing. It's clear that he's not a young man, the maturity of his body is evident in the thick, veined shaft that stands proudly in the photo. The girth of it makes your fingers twitch with the desire to touch it, to feel its weight in your hands.

The skin is a rich, deep pink, stretched taut over the hardness beneath. The head is broad and flushed with a deeper hue, a bead of moisture glistening at the tip, hinting at his arousal and the urgency of his need. You can't help but imagine how it would feel inside you, filling you completely, the friction of his thrusts igniting a fire within your core.

You can't deny the beauty of his cock. It's a testament to his virility, to the raw, primal power that he possesses. The soft, dark and grey hair at the base contrasts with the smoothness of the shaft, adding to the visual feast before your eyes.

You feel a warmth spreading through your body, a heat that pools between your legs as you continue to admire the photo. The thought of having such a magnificent cock at your disposal, of being able to pleasure and be pleasured by it, sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

Taking a moment to compose yourself, you type out a response

you: Wow, cowboy. You didn't have to send me something so... impressive. 😏 you've definitely exceeded my expectations. I can't wait to see it in person.

You hit send before you can second-guess yourself, the thrill of the forbidden fueling your boldness. You know you're playing a dangerous game, but the allure of the unknown, the promise of untold pleasures, is too potent to resist.

As you wait for his reply, you can't help but touch yourself, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties to find the slickness that has gathered there. You imagine it's his hand, his fingers expertly coaxing you towards release, and the thought is enough to make you moan softly into the quiet of your room.

cowboy_jm: I'm looking forward to it too, darlin'. More than you know.

You can sense the anticipation in his messages, and it matches your own.

you: Well, I better let you go, cowboy. I've got a lot to do before bed. But I'll be thinking about you... and your impressive horse. 😉

cowboy_jm: Haha, I'll be thinking about you too, darlin'. Take care, and I'll see you soon.

As the evening winds down, Joel finds himself unable to shake the conversation from his mind. The image of you in that schoolgirl outfit, the sound of your voice as you called him 'daddy', the thrill of exchanging messages with you—it all feels like a dream, a forbidden fantasy come to life. He tries to focus on other things, but his thoughts keep drifting back to you.

The next day, Joel wakes up with a sense of nervous anticipation. He's supposed to go over to your dad's house and the thought of it sends a jolt of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He tries to push the thoughts of your online interactions out of his mind as he gets ready, reminding himself that he's just going over to hang out with his friend. But the image of you in that plaid skirt keeps creeping back into his thoughts, making it hard for him to concentrate on anything else.

—

As he pulls into the driveway, he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what's to come. He walks up to the front door, his heart pounding in his chest. Your dad greets him with a firm handshake and a warm smile, completely oblivious to the secret between his best friend and his daughter. When he walks in he notices you're nowhere in sight, and can't decide if he's relieved or disappointed.

Your dad and Joel make small talk for a few minutes before your dad excuses himself to take a phone call, leaving Joel alone in the living room. And as if on queue you walk into the room with a confident stride, wearing the same plaid skirt from the video and a tight-fitting white blouse. You greet him with a playful smile, your eyes twinkling with mischief

"Hey, Joel," you say, your voice dripping with sweetness. "Can I get you something to drink?”

Joel feels his face flush with heat as he tries to maintain his composure. "Hey there, darlin', uh sure," he replies, trying to keep his voice steady. "You're looking... very nice today.”

You giggle and do a little twirl, the skirt flaring out slightly to give him a glimpse of your thighs. "Why, thank you," you say, batting your eyelashes at him. "You're looking pretty good yourself.”

Before he can say anything else you walk over to the fridge and bend over to grab a couple of drinks, your skirt rides up to reveal a glimpse of your bare pussy, so perfect and fuckable.

You hand him a beer and wink at him, your lips curling into a seductive smile. "Enjoy the view?”

Joel takes the beer from you, his hand shaking slightly. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, his mind filled with images of you from the videos and the messages you've exchanged. He knows that he should excuse himself, that he should leave before things go any further, but he can't seem to tear himself away from you.

Just then, your father walks back into the room, oblivious to the tension between you. "Hey, Joel," he says, clapping him on the back. "I'm glad you could make it. Let's head out to the backyard. I've got the grill fired up.”

Joel nods and follows him outside, grateful for the distraction.

As the afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the backyard, Joel tries to focus on the conversation at hand, but his gaze keeps drifting back to you. The skirt you're wearing teases him with its familiarity, a tangible reminder of the illicit videos he's watched late at night, alone in the darkness of his room. The way the fabric swishes around your thighs as you move—it's enough to make his head spin and his heart race in his chest.

You seem to revel in his discomfort, your eyes sparkling with mischief every time you catch him staring. You're the perfect picture of innocence and seduction, flipping burgers on the grill, laughing at your dad's corny jokes, all the while subtly taunting Joel with your every move.

With each playful glance, each coy smile, you're pulling him deeper into your web, ensnaring him with the promise of forbidden pleasures. And Joel, for all his attempts at normalcy, can't help but be drawn in.

He reaches for another beer, the cool bottle a welcome relief from the heat that seems to be building inside him. The alcohol loosens his inhibitions, making it easier to laugh at your dad's anecdotes, to join in on the conversation, even as his mind is elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of you.

As night approaches and the drinks continue flowing, your dad’s found his limit. He stands up from his lawn chair with a contented sigh. "Well, I think it's time for this old man to hit the hay," he announces, stretching his arms above his head. "You two kids have fun, but not too much fun, alright? Make sure you take the guestroom Joel."

You flash him a cheeky grin, the corners of your eyes crinkling with amusement. "Don't worry, Dad. We'll be good," you assure him, your gaze flicking briefly to Joel, who's suddenly found something incredibly interesting on the bottom of his beer bottle.

As your dad disappears into the house, the air between you and Joel grows charged with anticipation. The playful banter, the secret glances traded throughout the evening have led to this moment, where the unspoken promise of something more hangs heavy in the air.

The stars above twinkle with a knowing light, as if privy to the secret that simmers just beneath the surface. The night, once a backdrop to a casual gathering, now feels like an intimate cocoon, sheltering the two of you from the outside world.

Joel, with his guard lowered by the evening's camaraderie and the remnants of alcohol in his system, finds himself adrift in the sea of your gaze. The laughter and casual conversation that filled the air earlier has given way to silence.

You lean back in your chair, your eyes locked on Joel's and a mischievous smile paints your lips. "You know, Joel," you say, your voice low and teasing, "I've been thinking about our little chat yesterday."

Joel's heart skips a beat. "Oh? And what chat would that be, darlin'?" he asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

You lean forward, your eyes sparkling with excitement. "The one where you told me all about your - impressive horse," you say, your voice dripping with innuendo.

Joel nearly chokes on his beer, caught off guard by your boldness. He coughs and sputters, his face turning a shade of red that has nothing to do with the alcohol. "I... uh... “he stammers, his eyes darting nervously in the direction of the house. Joel feels the color drain from his face, his palms growing sweaty. He had hoped that the anonymity of the internet would keep his secret safe, but now, as he looks into your knowing eyes, he realizes that you've seen right through him this entire time. "I... uh... I'm not sure what you're talkin’ about," he stammers, his gaze darting nervously around the backyard.

You laugh, a soft, melodic sound that sends a shiver down Joel's spine. "Oh, come on, cowboy," you say, using his nickname on the site. "You don't have to be so shy about it."

Joel's eyes widen in shock, and he feels his face flush with heat. "How did you-?" he begins, but you cut him off with a wave of your hand.

"Let's just say I have my ways," you reply, your smile widening. "what's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

Joel runs a hand through his hair, his mind reeling. He had never imagined that his online interactions with you would spill over into the real world, and he's not sure how to handle the situation. "I just... I didn't think you knew it was me," he admits.

You lean back in your chair, your gaze never leaving his. "Well, I did some digging, and let's just say your profile picture was a bit of a giveaway," you say, a hint of amusement in your voice.

Joel feels his face grow even hotter, if that's possible. He had been so careful, so cautious, and yet, here he is, exposed and vulnerable.

"What's the matter, Joel? Scared?"

“It's not that, darlin'," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... complicated."

"Life's complicated, cowboy," you say, your voice steady and sure. "But sometimes, you've just got to take the reins and ride it out.”

Before he can respond, you stand up and extend your hand towards him, a silent invitation to follow you into the unknown. Joel hesitates for a moment, his mind racing with the potential consequences of what he's about to do and what you could possibly be offering. But in the end, desire wins out over caution, and with a resigned sigh, he places his hand in yours.

You lead him through the quiet house, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting. As you reach the guest room, you pause and turn to face him, your hand resting on the doorknob.

"This is where you'll be sleeping tonight, cowboy," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "But remember, I'm just down the hall if you need anything.”

With that, you give him a playful wink and disappear down the hallway, leaving him standing there, his heart pounding and his mind filled with images of what he thought was going to happen and what might happen if he takes you up on your offer.

—

The next morning, Joel wakes up with a slight headache, the sunlight streaming in through the curtains. He sits up in bed, rubbing his temples, and tries to piece together the events of the previous night. His mind is foggy from the alcohol, but the memory of you in that skirt is crystal clear.

He gets up and stumbles out of the guest room, his bare feet padding against the cool hardwood floor. He's still half-asleep, his thoughts are muddled and disoriented, and in his groggy state, he accidentally turns the wrong way down the hallway.

Before he knows what's happening, he finds himself standing in the doorway of your bedroom. The door is slightly ajar, and through the crack, he can see you lying on the bed, your legs spread wide, your hand buried between your thighs. You're completely lost in the moment, your eyes are closed and your lips are parted in a silent moan. You're wearing a thin pair of panties.

Joel's heart stops in his chest as he watches you, his breath catches in his throat. He knows he should turn around and leave, but he can't seem to tear himself away. He's transfixed by the sight of you, the way your body moves, the soft, needy sounds you make as you touch yourself.

And then, as if sensing his presence, your eyes flutter open. For a moment, you just stare at him, your gaze filled with surprise and desire. But instead of stopping, instead of pushing him away, you moan his name, your voice husky and full of need.

“Joel," you whisper, your fingers still moving in slow, deliberate circles. "I've been waiting for you."

Joel feels a jolt of electricity shoot through his body, his cock hardening in his boxers. He steps into the room, his movements slow and hesitant, and you beckon him closer with a curl of your finger.

"Come here, cowboy," you purr, pulling your panties to the side to give him a better view.

Joel's mind is a whirlwind of emotions as he steps toward the bed, his body acting on instinct despite the lingering doubts in his mind. He's acutely aware of the line he's about to cross, yet, the sight of you, so wanton and unashamed, is an irresistible siren call that he cannot ignore.

He reaches the edge of the bed, his eyes locked on the intimate display before him. The scent of your arousal fills the air, a heady perfume that makes his head spin. He watches as you continue to pleasure yourself, your fingers dancing over your clit with practiced ease, your hips bucking in response to your own touch.

"Touch me, Joel," you beg, your voice trembling with need. "I need to feel you inside me.”

Joel swallows hard, his hands shaking as he reaches out to touch you. His fingers graze your inner thigh, the skin soft and warm beneath his touch. With a gentleness that belies the hunger in his eyes, Joel slides your panties down your legs, exposing you fully to his gaze. He takes a moment to appreciate the sight before him—your pussy glistening with arousal.

Joel positions himself between your thighs, his gaze never leaving yours as he lowers his head to taste you. The first touch of his tongue to your heated core elicits a sharp gasp from you, your body arching off the bed in response to the sudden sensation.

"Oh, God, Joel," you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair as he begins to explore you with his mouth. His tongue traces the contours of your pussy, each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

He takes his time, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your body responding to his touch. His hands slide under your hips, pulling you closer, his tongue delving deeper into your depths. You can feel the tension building inside you, a coil of desire winding tighter with each passing moment.

"You taste so fuckin good, darlin'," Joel growls, his voice muffled by your flesh. He can feel your body trembling beneath him, your moans growing louder and more insistent as he continues his ministrations.

You're lost in a sea of sensation, your world narrowed down to the relentless rhythm of his tongue and the feel of his hands on your body. "I'm close, Joel," you gasp, your body tensing as the first waves of your orgasm begin to crest. "So close..."

With a final flick of his tongue, Joel sends you tumbling over the edge. Your body convulses as the orgasm rips through you, your muscles clenching around his tongue as you cry out his name. The pleasure is almost too much to bear, a white-hot surge of ecstasy that leaves you breathless and shaking.

As the aftershocks subside, Joel crawls up the bed to lie beside you, his body humming with need. You turn to face him, your eyes heavy-lidded with satisfaction, a sated smile playing on your lips. "That was... perfect," you murmur, your hand reaching down to stroke his rock-hard erection through his boxers. "But now it's your turn, cowboy."

Before Joel can respond, you're pushing him onto his back and deftly pulling down his boxers to free his straining cock. You lean down to take him in your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, your hand pumping the shaft in time with your movements. Joel groans, his hands fist the sheets as you work your magic on him. He can feel the pressure building in his balls, the telltale tingling that signals the approach of his orgasm. "Fuck, darlin'," he grunts, his body tensing.

“You're gonna make me come.”

You pull back, releasing him from your mouth with a wet pop. "Not yet," you say, a wicked gleam in your eye. "Wanna take that ride.” You straddle him, your hand guiding his cock to your entrance. You sink down onto him with a moan and your body stretches to accommodate his girth. Joel grips your hips, his eyes locked with yours as you begin to ride him, your movements are slow and deliberate.

The sensation of being inside you is almost too much for Joel. He can feel every inch of your tight, wet pussy as you move on top of him, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. "You feel so fucking good, darlin', so fuckin good,” he groans as his hands move to cup your breasts.

You lean forward letting your lips brush against his ear. "I want you to fuck me, Joel," you whisper, your voice thick with desire. "Fuck me like you've been dreaming of."

With a low growl, Joel flips you onto your back, his body covering yours as he drives into you with deep, powerful strokes. You wrap your legs around his waist, your fingers dig into his back as he pounds into you, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoes through the room.

"Yes, Joel, yes!" you cry out as your body arches off the bed. "Harder, fuck me harder!"

Joel obliges, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor, each thrust pushes you closer and closer to the edge. And then, with a final, brutal thrust, you're both coming, your bodies shudder in unison as you ride out the waves of your orgasms.

As the last spasms of pleasure wrack your bodies, Joel collapses on top of you, his breath coming in ragged gasps. You lie there for a moment, basking in the afterglow, your bodies still intimately connected. Then, with a playful grin, you nudge him with your hip. "So, cowboy, how was that ride for you?"

Joel lifts his head and his eyes meet yours. A slow smile spreads across his face. "Darlin'," he drawls, "that was the best ride of my life."

You laugh, the sound light and carefree. "I'm glad you enjoyed it as much as I did. We should probably get cleaned up before my dad wakes up."

Reluctantly, Joel pulls out of you and rolls onto his back. You sit up, stretching your arms above your head, and then climb out of bed. You pad over to your dresser and pull out a pair of clean panties and an outfit, then turn to face Joel.

"Coming?" you ask, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Joel grins and gets out of bed, his eyes roaming over your body. "Yes, ma'am," he says, saluting you with a mock-serious expression.

You both head to the bathroom, where you shower. As Joel steps under the spray of hot water, you take a moment to drink in the sight of him. The water cascades down his broad shoulders, tracing the contours of his muscular back and flowing over the firm swell of his ass. You allow your gaze to travel back up to his face, watching as the water beads on his skin, runs down the sharp angles of his jaw, and drips from the tips of his lashes.

Joel turns, his movements languid and unhurried. The water washes over his chest, highlighting the definition of his muscles and the ridges of his abdomen. A smattering of greying hair adorns his chest, trailing down his stomach to form a line that disappears beneath the water. His cock, still semi-hard from your earlier escapades, rests against his thigh.

For a moment, you're lost in the sheer masculine beauty of him. He's not a young man, but there's a timeless quality to his physique, a sense of strength and resilience that transcends age. You can't help the surge of attraction to him like a primal pull.

Joel catches you staring and a slow, knowing smile spreads across his face. "See somethin you like, darlin'?" he drawls, his voice thick with amusement.

You feel a flush of heat creep into your cheeks, but you refuse to look away. "Maybe I do," you retort, your gaze locked with his. "Do you have a problem with that, cowboy?"

Joel chuckles. "No problem at all, feel free to look your fill."

You step forward and reach out to trace the line of hair that bisects his chest. His skin is warm and slick beneath your fingers, the muscle beneath firm and unyielding.

Joel's smile fades, replaced by a look of intense concentration as he watches you explore his body. Encouraged by his reaction, you drop to your knees in front of him, your hands sliding over the wet skin of his hips. Joel's breath hitches as you lean forward and press a kiss to his stomach, just above the line of hair that leads to his rapidly hardening cock.

You look up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of innocence and lust. "I want to taste you, Joel," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of the running water. "I want to feel you in my mouth."

Joel groans, his hands tangling in your wet hair as he guides you closer. His cock is fully erect now, the head flushed with arousal and beaded with moisture. You part your lips and take him into your mouth, the taste of him mingling with the clean, fresh scent of the soap.

Joel's hips jerk in response to the sensation, his fingers tightening in your hair. "Fuck, such a good girl for this ol’cowboy.”

You hum in acknowledgment, the vibration sending a shudder through his body. You can feel his control slipping, his movements becoming more erratic as you work him. With each stroke of your tongue, each suckling kiss, you're pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

"I'm gonna come, darlin'," Joel warns, his voice strained. "If you don't want to swallow, you better pull back now."

You respond by taking him deeper, your hands gripping his ass as you suck him with renewed vigor. Joel's control snaps, his body tensing as he erupts in your mouth. You swallow reflexively, the salty-sweet taste of his release filling your senses.

As the last spasms of his orgasm subside, Joel pulls you to your feet and captures your lips in a searing kiss.

As the water from the shower begins to cool, Joel reaches out and turns off the faucet, the sudden silence punctuated only by the sound of your shared breathing. He steps out of the shower first, taking a moment to grab a fluffy towel from the rack and wrapping it around his waist. Then, with a gentlemanly gesture he offers you his hand to help you step out onto the mat.

You accept his help with a grateful smile, your fingers curling around his as he assists you. He takes another towel and begins to gently dry your body, his movements tender and unhurried. The care he takes with you, the way he looks at you with a mixture of awe and desire, makes you feel cherished and beautiful.

Once you're both dry, you lead him back to your bedroom, the cool sheets a welcome relief against your warm skin. You crawl onto the bed, your body still humming with the aftereffects of your shared pleasure, and Joel follows suit, lying down beside you. For a moment, neither of you speaks. There's a sense of contentment that fills the room.

Joel reaches out and takes your hand in his, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your palm. "That was... something else, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You turn to face him, your eyes locking onto his. "It was," you agree, a soft smile playing on your lips. "I'm glad you took a chance on me, cowboy."

He chuckles, the sound rich and warm. "I think it's safe to say that I'm the one who got lucky."

You giggle, the sound light and carefree. It feels good to let go of the tension, to bask in the afterglow without overthinking the situation.

As the morning wears on, you both dress, the reality of the day ahead slowly beginning to intrude on your private world. You know that eventually, you'll have to face your dad, to pretend that nothing has changed, but for now, you're content to linger in bed with Joel, the world outside temporarily forgotten.

When you finally emerge from your room, you find your dad in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. He looks up as you enter, a smile spreading across his face when he sees the two of you together.

"Well, good morning, sleepyheads," he greets. "I hope you two weren't up too late."

You feel a flush of heat creep into your cheeks, but you manage to keep your expression neutral. "Not too late, Dad," you reply, your voice steady.

Joel, for his part, seems completely at ease, his years of friendship with your dad serving him well in this moment. He claps your father on the back and grins. "You know how it is. Once you get to talking, the time just flies by."

Your dad nods, seemingly satisfied with the explanation. He stands up from the table and stretches, his joints popping in the quiet of the kitchen. "Well, I'm glad you two had a good time. How about some breakfast?

Throughout the meal, you're acutely aware of his presence, the knowledge of what lies beneath his clothes, the feel of his skin against yours, the taste of him on your lips. It's a heady secret, one that you carry with you as you navigate the normalcy of the morning.

Eventually, the meal comes to an end, and Joel stands up, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I should probably be heading home," he says, his gaze meeting yours. "I've got a few things I need to take care of today."

Your dad nods, pushing back his chair and standing up as well. "I understand. Thanks for coming over. We'll have to do it again soon."

You walk Joel to the door, your heart pounding in your chest. This is the first time you've been alone all morning since the shower. He turns to face you, his hand reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I had a great time, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. "Thank you for... well, for everything."

You smile up at him, your eyes shining with emotion. "I had a great time too, Joel. Take care, okay?"

He nods, his hand dropping back to his side. "You too, pretty girl."

With a final, lingering look, Joel turns and walks away, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet of the morning. You close the door behind him and lean back against it, your mind racing with the events of the past 24 hours.

As you make your way back to the kitchen, your dad looks up from the dishes he's washing and gives you a smile. "He's a good man, that Joel," he says, his voice filled with a warmth and affection that only comes from years of friendship. "I'm glad you two get along so well."

You nod, a sense of peace settling over you. "Yeah, Dad. He’s really good.”

And as you help your dad finish the dishes, the memory of Joel's touch, the sound of his voice, the taste of his kiss, all of it lingers in the back of your mind, a sweet reminder you can only hope happens again and again.

Special taglist for @milla-frenchy 😘

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

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poetsblvd · 11 months ago

Text

bisous 𖤓 carlos sainz 𝒙 leclerc!reader.

❨ summary. all he wanted was a kiss, it’s not his fault the paparazzi caught it, and it’s totally coincidental that your brother’s going to kill him. ❩

❨ faceclaim. @/claudiamariewalsh on instagram <3 ❩

❨ notes. i had sm fun doing this! though it did exceed the limit i was looking at, becoming a bit long, but i do wanna do a part two to this because imo the charles x carlos beef is gonna be really funny!! i hope you enjoy xx ❩

⋆⭒˚.⋆ instagram.

liked by charles_leclerc and 30,987 others.

yourinstagram. wined and dined xo

view all 11,345 comments.

username when god has favourites 😩

username holy shit

charles_leclerc mon poupette! tellement jolie.

yourusername je t’aime cha xx

username my brother is a dick compared to charles lmao

arthur_leclerc bet you were smelly.

yourusername bet you came out of a gutter.

username now that’s more like my brother

username not carlos creeping in the likes 👀

username girl bffr he’s like 6 years older than her??

username so lol #zaddy

username don’t ever say ‘zaddy again’.

landonorris wined, dined and sixty-nined.

charles_leclerc get out.

yourusername ew you weirdo

landonorris so it’s funny when kevin in the office says it??

yourusername he has rizz, unlike you.

maxverstappen1 real.

landonorris i hate you.

francisca.cgomes so stunning my girl 😻

yourusername love u forever keeks <33

username someone look at me like she does in the third pic 😭

carlossainz55 espléndida

yourusername 🤭❤️

charles_leclerc ???

arthur_leclerc ???

landonorris ???

username lando what??

landonorris felt a bit left out there 🤷‍♂️

⋆⭒˚.⋆ twitter.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ instagram.

carlossainz55 added to their stories.

seen by yourusername and 800,567 others.

yourusername replied to this story.

⤷ mon coeur 🫶🏼

⤷ je t’aime tellement !!

landonorris replied to this story.

⤷ did you wine her and dine her??

⤷ ;) ;)

charles_leclerc replied to this story.

⤷ i bought yn a ring so similar for her 21st!

⤷ what a small world eh mate?

⋆⭒˚.⋆ text messages between yn and charles.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ text messages between yn and carlos.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ instagram.

liked by carlossainz55 and 47,222 others.

yourinstagram sunny days ☀️

view all 24,432 comments.

username SOFT LAUNCH I REPEAT SOFT LAUNCH !!

username carlos crying in the likes lol

username someone check on big bro charlie 😭

charles_leclerc poupette???

charles_leclerc que se passe-t-il?? ( what’s going on? )

charles_leclerc you didn’t say BOYS were gonna be on this trip!!

yourusername is my hair not pretty?

yourusername you haven’t complimented it yet?

yourusername it’s healthier and you haven’t noticed :((

francisca.cgomes you should be ashamed charles_leclerc

pierregasly absolutely sick of you charles !!

landonorris even i noticed her stunning hair! it’s smoother!

maxverstappen1 disgusting behaviour

charles_leclerc ??? no ??

yourusername oh?? it’s not healthier? i’m not pretty anymore?

francisc.cgomes HOW DARE YOU charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc NON poupette desolee

yourusername don’t talk to me.

username me when i dream

gigihadid 😻😻

arthur_leclerc stunning hair btw

yourusername love u tur

username he’s being nice??

arthur_leclerc too bad it doesn’t help the ugly face lol

username nvm

charles_leclerc pick up the phone poupette

charles_leclerc you’re very pretty !! you’re hair is so shiny !!

charles_leclerc we’ll go shopping soon poupette 💌

yourusername okay charlie love u 🥰

arthur_leclerc i want a new ps5

charles_leclerc get it yourself.

carlossainz55 hermosa

username poor boy

username mans desperate fr

username not when she’s soft launching mate 😭😭

⋆⭒˚.⋆ instagram

carlossainz55 added to their stories.

seen by charles_leclerc and 1,678,432 others.

yourusername replied to this story.

⤷ photographer of the year !

⤷ very much thought you were gonna use the pic of me falling.

⤷ love u

charles_leclerc replied to this story.

⤷ girls’ hair get better every day.

⤷ looks oddly similar too tbh

⤷ where’d you say you were vacationing again mate?

charles_leclerc can no longer view your stories

landonorris replied to this story.

⤷ shiny hair 👀

⋆⭒˚.⋆ twitter.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ text messages between yn and kika.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ twitter.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ texts between yn and charles, and charles and carlos.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ instagram

yourusername added to their stories.

seen by carlossainz55 and 986,444 others.

charles_leclerc replied to your story.

⤷ poupette you’ve never done anything wrong in your life.

⤷ i’m not mad, call me please

⤷ desolee bebe

⤷ i have that new chanel you wanted ❤️

landonorris replied to your story.

⤷ so unserious lmao

pierregasly replied to your story.

⤷ charles is going to buy the entire mall y/n !!

⤷ tell him you’re not mad at him

⤷ DONT LISTEN TO KIKA

francisca.cgomes replied to your story.

⤷ tell pierre to piss off

⤷ let charles buy you what he wants.

⤷ omg tell him you want a ferrari !!

⤷ IN PINK !!

carlossainz55 replied to your story.

⤷ mi vida your brothers texting me again

⤷ it’s very weird he’s apologising now??

⤷ he’s asking me if you want a pink ferrari??

⤷ bebita you should have told me you want a pink ferrari??

⤷ with a matching bag okay my love 🩷

arthur_leclerc replied to your story.

⤷ TELL CHARLES YOU WANT A PS5

⤷ LO TOLD ME TO FUCK OFF

⤷ STOP TELLING ON ME Y/N

lorenzotl replied to your story.

⤷ i’m very happy for you mon chou ❤️

⤷ ignore arthur he doesn’t need a new ps5

⤷ he makes his own money.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ instagram.

carlossainz55 added to their stories.

seen by charles_leclerc and 1,410,333 others.

charles leclerc replied to your story.

⤷ who do you think you are buying MY sister a pink ferrari

⤷ you be with her, okay. you date her, okay. but buying her things?

⤷ and a matching bag???

⤷ you piece of shit.

⤷ when i said we were brothers i didn’t mean this!

yourusername replied to your story.

⤷ ma vie 💌

⤷ je t’aime tellement <3

arthur_leclerc replied to your story.

⤷ y/n wants a ps5!!

⤷ brother 😃😃

francisca.cgomes replied to your story.

⤷ you picked up the correct bag for her!!

⤷ she also likes chanel and hermès !!

⤷ you’ll be outdoing charles in no time !!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ twitter.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

❨ disclaimer. i do not own any of the images above, all were found on pinterest, this is purely for fun and nothing is based on real life ❩

#౨ৎ my works #✧. carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x fem!reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz smau #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc x reader

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sleep-0-deprived · 2 months ago

Text

Nanami x ftm reader thoughts~! ૮꒰ྀི ෆ ˃̣̣̥ ⤙ ˂̣̣̥ ෆ ꒱ྀིა

Tags: pure NSFW, vaginal creampies, slight breeding, eating out, Afab on Amab sex, office sex, under the desk blow jobs, slight degrading <33

A/N: I’ve been doin a’ lotta Amab reader works s’ I figured I’d feed m’ trans sweethearts too !

Taglist: @asher-is-hotxp @yyuinaa @silvern1006 @kimisbunny @unstab1eperson2

Just thinkin bout sextin Nami while he’s at work, sending pics of you in his fav pair of lacy panties with the frills around your pretty thighs, him responding with a message tellin you to “knock it off, I can’t afford a hard on right now [name]” but you just won’t listen will you?…oh how you could practically hear his teeth gritting and that vein bulging on his forehead when he’s all irritated…oh god you’re wet at the thought- did you just send him a pic of that? oops.

Just thinking bout Nanami comin home from a long day of work, his cock is all hard and he’s pent up from those skimpy pictures of yourself but he doesn’t touch you, he walks in the room only to look at you N’ take his tie off along with his coat before walkin off to his study in the house, he leaves you so pent up and desperate that you have’Ta beg him to even let him permit you to give a blow job before he even considers fuckin your needy cunt. Nami just grumbled on about “you want your pussy fucked then earn it— apologize for teasing me at work” he’d leave you sobbing and whining out apologies around his dick.

Just thinkin bout Nami being totally cruel with your pussy, he fucks you bent over his desk raw, his hips slap your ass cheeks flushed Nd’ he just croons you on talkin bout “y’know it deserves it for bein so greedy— if it wasn’t so needy then maybe you’d listen more” he’d talk and have full on conversations with your cunt while his tip pulses against your womb leaving a throbbing feeling between your thighs, he’s the type of man to dirty talk your cunt like you aren’t even in the room, Nanami forces his loads inside you, he may seem so tame N’ cold but his seed is your punishment. Nami makes you feel his load inside your swollen insides all day leaving you feeling bloated N’ sick.

Just thinkin bout Nanami’s idea of affections, if he’s a little too rough with your pussy he’ll be all affectionate with it by peppering kisses on your clit while he jus massages your thighs and makes out with your lips whispering bout how he “didn’t mean to be so mean on his pretty baby” Nanami is either a sweet talker or he’s cruel. Nami is vanilla with sex he’s a man with old ideals and old fashioned morals so oral and penetration is all he does unless you wanted to try something new, Nanami may be rough and fuck you hard but he doesn’t have a lot of other kinks besides that and maybe if you ever get him to admit it he does wanna see you all knocked up by him.

Just thinking bout you and Nami being together for a real long time. You two have been together long enough that kids have been mentioned, you’re in the middle of getting your insides wrecked by his cock and you already have two loads pumped inside you and all nami can do is heave in your ear “wanna give you my kids— I wanna knock this pretty pussy up-“ his platinum hair is a mess and his hand is wrapped around under your thigh lazily rubbing your clit while he fucks your pussy loose and has your puffy petals all wrapped wide around his girth making your labia look extra swollen from his cock.

Just thinking bout Nami biting your breasts at night when your binder is off, he knows your tits are all sensitive and your nipples are puffy but his if he doesn’t love to drool and make out with them like he does your pussy, if he’s lucky and you feel like it he loves squishing your tits together with his cock between them makin you open your mouth and stick that pretty little tongue out…he loves watching your nose scrunch at the tender feeling of the boob job you were giving him, his tip pressing to your tongue with every thrust makin you taste his precum before he strokes his cock at the end and finishes with his cum getting all over your mouth and chin, shooting down on York breasts leaving you a sticky mess while he grunts out “there’s a pretty boy”

1K notes · View notes

yawnderu · 11 months ago

Note

I'm sorry but being with simon at the beginning of a relationship would be so awkward.💀

Like...

You can't take pics, you can't know about his routine, you can't know about his work and so goes on.

So or are you with him for the cock or because you have the syndrome of falling in love with strange men

>This turned into a mini character study. 😔🗣️

Good dick has taken you places you wouldn't even go to with a gun.

Simon is a kind man. Truly, he is. He's just... slightly strange. You don't know much about him other than the fact that he has served in the military— something he never even told you, you simply guessed by the dogtags he never takes off and the plethora of scars adorning his pale body, a privilege you didn't get until he realized he could trust you... for the most part.

For a man like Simon, vulnerability was nothing but a highly-desired privilege. Something he wouldn't allow himself to have ever again, hiding his face under different masks that caused the reactions he was looking for— intimidation and fear, the skulls doing nothing more than serving the purpose of representing all he was, a ghost. A man who died a long time ago, way before he was tortured by the greedy, cruel hands of Manuel Roba.

It's not that Simon doesn't love you, he simply doesn't know how to allow himself to be vulnerable. How to put down the walls he spent a lifetime building, serving as shelter from his father's abuse, nothing but a mere way of shielding the broken pieces of his soul, not allowing anyone to trample what little he had left.

... not until you came, at least. Sweet little thing, never moving away from his side even when Simon told you nothing good comes from men like him. Perhaps it's unfair, yet Simon only warned you once. Had a long chat with you about how you could do better— only for you to find yourself already tangled on his web, unable to leave even if you wanted to... and good for him, because the idea of leaving him never once crossed your mind no matter how difficult he could be.

For you, it was a test of patience and care, wanting to peel every single layer of the man Simon Riley is, yet for him, it's a new chance at life. The holy light, in a way, guiding him into a path he never found himself roaming, a path he never even thought he'd have the chance to see, not when he was such a tainted, dirty man, sins that would last him a lifetime easily forgotten the moment your arms wrap around him, holding him with such tenderness one would've thought he's made of expensive fine china rather than scar tissue and trauma.

It's not like Simon is a bad partner— quite the opposite, truly. He has a way with words, reassuring you that there'll be a time where he's able to reveal more about himself and what he does, having a scheduled delivery of flowers and food almost every day he's gone, wanting to keep you happy even when he's on the other side of the world, gaining more enemies by the day.

... And yet he is not afraid anymore. His enemies die with Ghost, by his punishing hand or that of an ally. The moment the mask comes off, he's your Simon. Yours and only yours, never even allowing himself to look at other women, he has the most gorgeous one by his side, one that loves him with all she has, making him feel like a proper lad for the first time in his life.

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sweetpascal · 8 months ago

Text

— 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫

pairing: general marcus acacius x fem!reader

summary: unsure of whether or not your husband is alive leading his army's invasion, the only method of tranquility is by reaching into your past memories as a necessary distraction.

warnings: MINORS DNI, wife!reader and husband!marcus, mentions of TW: miscarriages, (probably incorrect) roman history, mentions of TW: blood and death, making love, sweet nicknames (carissima/me - dearest, dulcissima/me - sweetest, meum cor - my heart, melculum - my little honey), marcus has a big dick, creampies, tender softness, probably ooc marcus ??

wc: 4.4k

notes: oh booyyyyyyy. so we all collectively agree that general marcus is scrum-diddly-umptious ?? all the pics, videos, and gifs dropping does not ease my obsession. so.. i turned my obsession into a work of art for all of you to read ^.^ idk squat about the roman times, but i did do my best to research !! divider from @saradika-graphics 🤍

main masterlist

follow @sweetpascal-notifs for future fic updates.

It seems like the days have been mixing in with each other the more time has passed. Unsure of which day started and which day ended, you lost track of time. It had been one month, maybe two at this point. The sun rose and set, the moon and stars following in tandem. It was almost like a dance. It was amusing, to say the least. It reminded you of your relationship with your husband. With the light color dress wraps and delicate gold jewelry you'd wear around your neck compared to his permanent scowl, it's clear to civilization who's the sun and who's the moon. But you both complement each other in more ways than one.

You're able to calm him down with a simple touch on his arm, causing his boisterous voice to quiet down and his heart to steady its pace. Marcus' presence looming behind you around others, everyone already knows how dangerous he can become if someone even looks at his wife the wrong way.

Now, without his presence and his voice and his touch, nothing feels real. Pacing around in the dining hall of your home, you rubbed your hands tenderly over your barely-there baby bump over your soft blue wrap dress that Marcus surprised you with the last time he had come home from a previous battle for more land. He had won, of course, because General Marcus Acacius never loses. The mere thought of him losing a battle led by him with his army in tow is one of your greatest fears as his wife.

Staying inside your home and wallowing in your fears was no good for you and your unborn child. You couldn't go through the stress of worrying after your husband and deal with another heartbreaking loss alone. The night that Marcus had come back, you had broken down in front of him, shakily telling him through your thick tears that you had lost your son.

"A son?" He had quietly asked you, his eyes wide and heartbreaking.

"The teller that settles by the river," you told him with a broken voice. "She had confirmed it with her readings."

You remember it clearly as day; the look on his face equivalent to that of a broken man. You had choked on your tears, begging for his forgiveness for not being more careful, for not being a dutiful mother that was supposed to protect their child. You had knelt down in front of him, grabbing his knees and pleading to him and the gods for forgiveness and punishment, your hands pressed together in a prayer.

"Carissima," he had whispered quietly to you, slowly getting down onto his knees to remove your tight hold on his dirtied pteruges. His hands, trembling and unsteady, tenderly hold your cheeks to look into your heartbroken eyes. "I shall never strike a hand upon you, need you deserve it or not. I shall never lay blame on something the gods have brutally stolen from us. Oh, my dearest wife." His last whisper had you gripping onto his arms and crying your heart out into his shoulder. He said nothing more, nothing else. On the ground that day, all he did was hold you, and that was more than what you needed.

Breaking out of that distressing memory, you busied yourself with around-the-house distractions. In your hands was a handmade wicker basket you had purchased at one of the markets. The owner was a sweet, older woman that knew of your reputation amongst the others. She always treated you with kindness and looked at you with excitement every time you came by and not fear. She also gifted you a handmade blanket sewn with intricate patterns of the moon and sun.

"I gift this to you as a thank you for your kindness," she had said, pushing the blanket further into your hands when you had protested. She lay a wrinkly finger against her lips and drooped her eye to a wink.

Stepping outside with the wicker basket in your arms, you traveled a short distance to a small pond with many bushes, trees, and delicate flowers all around. This was your happy place. And this was also where you and Marcus had made love for the first time so long ago. The tree, the rock, the patch of grass. All of it held a distinct memory of your first time. Thinking back to it brings a smile to your lips.

"Tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me to stop right now and I shall go back to where I rest and I will not pursue you any longer," Marcus had told you breathlessly against your jaw. He had you laid on the soft grass underneath the moon, the light shining against the pond in a way that makes the gentle movements look like glitter. Your dress was hiked up around your hips as he rested heavily between your trembling thighs, your hands squeezing on his strong biceps that flexed in response to your sizzling touch.

"Marcus," you sighed prettily in his ear, and it sounded like the sweetest song he has honor of ever hearing. "My need for you has not gone away. It will not go away unless you take me right here, under the moon and stars, until I'm singing for you in pleasure."

The look in his eyes was that of desperate hunger and wanton need. When he had slid himself into your cunt for the first time, all of your prayers to the gods have been finally answered. Marcus was made to be yours. And you were made to be his. Hushed moans and frantic thrusts, Marcus fucked like how others perceived himself – like a barbarian. Some women would disagree and find it appalling and dirty, but it was perfection. He wasn't scared to touch you. He touched you as though if he were to let go you would float away, for he would no longer be able to taste you on his tongue or feel your tight warmth wrapped around his thick cock.

A touch to your shoulder had you gasping and dropping the basket onto the ground. You spun around and laid a hand on your chest and one on your bump, staring at the poor maid that scared you accidentally.

"I deeply apologize for frightening you, miss," she stares at you with her hands up in defense as though she was staring at a frightening animal backed into a corner. "General Marcus has arrived and he asks for your presence in your bedroom."

"No, no, it's quite alright, dear. My head was in the clouds again," you offer her a gentle smile and a brief laugh, laying a hand lightly on her shoulder to ease her worries. "And Marcus, is he...?"

The young maid recognized your worry and shook her head as an answer to your unspoken question. You hand her the wicker basket of plucked fruits from the bushes and politely tell her to wash and ready them, and to bring them to your bedroom when the task is done. She nodded and hurried off immediately.

You carefully, but also hurriedly, made your way into your home. Nodding and giving polite smiles to the people inside, you walk up the spiral marble stairs. When you reached the top, there stood a statue of yourself sitting atop a stone with a statue of hour husband on his knees and his lips pressed to your knees. There were intricate details in the statue, like of Marcus' fingers gripping your thighs or the soft rolls of your body. Your husband preferred a large home such as this for his growing family. You preferred something quainter and more personal, but what your husband says, goes. You recognized his large, dirty footprints leading to your bedroom, another young maid already on her knees scrubbing the stains.

"Aureia, there's no need for that," you tut softly at the young girl, and she looks up at you with wide eyes. "Leave that alone for now, alright? As for this moment, will you please gather the others and bring pails of hot water for a bath?"

"Right away," she nodded and hurried off. It brings a smile to your face at how eager the young maids are to please. Unlike the other men and women that have maids in their homes, you treated yours like people. They respect you and in return, you respect them. Marcus used to disagree until he remembered how you grew up when it was just you and your widowed mother, along with the reputation of being poor. Realizing that you see yourself in these young maids, your husband made it a point to allow you to be in charge of them and do whatever you see fit. Having that much power can be overwhelming, only because of the fear of having your kind heart be taken advantage of. But those that work for and with you know to never cross you, for they'll have to deal with the consequences your husband has waiting for them.

When you entered your private bedroom, there he sat, still dressed from head to toe in his armor. He sits with his back facing the door, his sights focused on the large window that overlooks the garden which circles around the empty thermae. You slowly move around the bed and finally stand before him, essentially blocking his view of the window. Marcus doesn't look up at you just yet. So, you stay silent and let him do what he needs to, let him think what he needs to think.

His hands, still caked with dirt, grime, and dried blood, move up to your stomach. Your bump is within his line of sight. Both of his hands rest on either side, feeling the firmness and shape of the bump. You watch as his eyes shut and his jaw clenches. His face was also caked with dirt, grime, and dried blood. The ends of his hair are curled with sweat from the heat of his long journey back home to his family. Marcus says nothing when you stroke his jaw silently. Neither of you register the door opening and four maids coming in one by one to empty two pails each of hot water into the tub that sits in the corner of the room. They know better than to interrupt.

When the door shuts, Marcus moves to rest his head against your bump. His ear is pressed into your soft flesh through the dress adorning your body. He can faintly hear the thumping of your heart and that brings him back down to earth, back home to you. Your hands, warm and gentle, card through his messy, graying curls. Damp with dirt and sweat, you don't care. Feeling him right here, right now, was all that mattered.

"It's over," he finally speaks, his voice rough and low. His hands move down to find a home on your wide hips, fingers just barely digging into the shape. "The war is over. I made sure of it." And he leaves it at that.

Your eyes shut and you let out a sigh of mixed relief and heartache. You couldn't imagine what your husband had to go through, as a leader, to make sure that he and his army of men make it out alive. You couldn't imagine the number of bodies that are lying out there, hundreds of miles away, torn apart and bled out, mangled flesh and bone. You couldn't imagine your husband possibly being one of them. Bending down as best as you could, you tenderly wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and kissed the back of his head. You briefly sniffed his hair and pulled back.

"Let's get you inside the bath, hm?" You whispered softly, hands lovingly scratching at his scruffy jaw as you pulled his head up to look into your eyes.

When he stands, you almost forgot how imposing he was. His height was a strong factor. The bloodied armor he wears makes him look much broader and more dangerous. The exhausted look on his face makes him look much more mean – evil, even. But he's neither of those things, at least not to you. He stands as still as a tree as you begin to unclip and pull off his armor one by one. From the thick leather chest plate bound with protective metal underneath, all the way down to the thick leather arm-wear covering his forearms. Unsheathing his sword from its belt, you unclip that from around his waist as well. Having done this a million times, it's muscle memory.

He stands before you, naked, dirty, and exhausted. You reach behind your neck and slowly untie your dress wrap. It pools at your feet, your naked body now on display for him to see after months apart. Marcus' eyes take in every detail. The delicacy of your collarbones, your perky breasts, the curve of your growing belly, the soft curls of your pubic hair, those thighs that Marcus loves being in between, all the way down to the dangling anklet he gifted you.

"Come on," you whisper softly and take his hand to lead him to the filled tub. Steam sits above the water and Marcus' aching muscles scream out to it.

He enters first, hissing at first from the heat but then moaning gruffly once he sinks further into the hot water. Almost immediately, his sore muscles begin to relax. He could fall asleep right this instant. He feels a gentle push on his shoulder. He scoots forward and allows you to enter behind him.

"What are you doing, dear wife?" He doesn't hear an answer to his question. He's about to turn his body, but then he feels your hands massaging his tender scalp and washing his dirty hair. His eyes shut almost instantly, and he groans huskily with parted lips.

You wanted to laugh at his reaction but decided against it. Marcus never had time to relax and wind down. He was always on his feet, always discussing the next steps of battle, always readying his army men with hardcore training. It pained you to see him like this, especially at a distance. He never wanted you around to witness his leadership. Not wanting to induce stress onto you early on in your pregnancy, not wanting a repeat of your last pregnancy, he had given you strict instructions to let him handle everything.

"Meum cor, you do so good with taking care of your husband," Marcus quietly tells him, his entire body shuddering when your nails tenderly scrape the sensitive parts of his scalp. "I know the other men are envious of the treatment I receive from such a divine woman."

"Mm, I know, my love," softly laughing at his goading. You reached over the side of the tub to grab a small wooden bowl. Using that to pour water onto his soapy curls, you gently tipped his head back and did just that. You kissed the side of his head and gently cleaned away the dirt and grime on his beautifully tan skin. You paid extra attention by lovingly kissing the scar on his right cheek.

For the next hour, you put all your focus into washing his body. No longer was he a filthy barbarian. No, he was now your clean, fresh smelling husband. His damp hair curled elegantly behind his ears and neck. You had maneuvered onto his lap to focus on his front. There were more prominent bruises on his chest and arms, as well as some cuts that have begun its healing process. You gave him a small pout, to which he tuts and lovingly cups your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"I could ride into the sun and still come back to you in one piece, meum cor," he tells you quietly, moving his face much closer and shifting you to sit comfortably on his lap. "No man, no sword, no army could ever strike me down and take me from you."

Holding onto his scruffy jaw and peering into those dark chocolate eyes of his, he looks at you with such tenderness that no stranger will ever witness. Your bump is resting against his own stomach, and he feels every breath you exhale. Heads lean closer, his aquiline nose resting on the side of yours, lips just a hair away. There's distant chatter outside in the gardens, the curtains swaying gently from the warm breeze coming through the open windows. The water in the tub is still warm and steaming, the clearness of it was now murky from the dirt you cleaned from his aching body. You have half a mind to drain the tub and call out for more pails of fresh hot water, but you're so comfortable and safe in the arms of your husband.

"Do you recall the night I took you underneath the stars?" Marcus asks you huskily, both hands gripping your hips, strong fingers digging into your plushy flesh. He forces your hips closer to his, thick thighs tensing underneath your own. "The way you begged me to keep going, even when it began to rain down upon us."

Your lips parted to elicit a soft gasp when you felt his hardness on your thigh, thickening and rising with each second that passed. You do remember that night like it was yesterday. The soft rain pattering on your naked, writhing bodies. Your nails had dug deep into his skin to keep him from moving away. You had cried out to the gods for more, more, more.

"I do believe I may have scars from those nails of yours," Marcus joked lightly against your jaw, pressing a kiss to the bone with his plush lips.

Giggling quietly in his ear, you held his head close to your chest as his kisses traveled south. "I do believe you're creating tales, carissime."

He hums disapprovingly, holding you tighter on his lap when you shift. The steam from the water made his skin feel sticky and warm. You tasted salt on your tongue when you kissed below his ear. It was intoxicating, to say the least. Tasting him, trailing your tongue all over his molten hot skin, licking over his scars and freckles. There was a quiet minute when you both looked into each other's eyes again. Marcus can see the light hasn't died. He can see the adoration you have for him in the way your pupils dilate, and breathing quicken. And you can feel the love Marcus has for you in the way his eyes get slightly wide as he takes in your features, most likely mapping out which ones he hopes your unborn child takes from the both of you.

"Take us to bed, meum cor," you beg him. No longer able to keep looking at your handsome husband and not do anything about it, you leave it all up to him.

Without another word, Marcus stands with a hoarse grunt. With one strong arm wrapped tight (but not too tight) around your waist and his other hand under your thigh to keep you up and against his body, he steps over the tub and makes his way over to the bed. Neither of you care if your wet bodies are soaking the sheets. As he lays you down and rests on top of you, nothing else matters at this moment.

"Melculum, you look like a goddess with the sunlight kissing your naked skin," he whispers to you, lowering his head to kiss at your breasts and collarbones. You gasped and arched your back, further pressing your breasts into his mouth, to which he sucks a sensitive nipple between those lips.

Marcus rests on his forearms on either side of your head with his big hands tenderly cupping the crown. Your feet teasingly trail up and down the backs of his thighs, and you feel his hardness twitch between your bodies. Whispering his name in a needy voice, he looks up at you and catches the look in your half-lidded eyes. The flush on your skin makes your skin glow. He would never disrespect his gods and goddesses, but Aphrodite does have a competition on her hands.

Feeling too eager, you take charge and yank his neck down to finally kiss him. After months of not feeling his body, hands, and lips on yours, you powered all your emotions in this kiss. It was messy and desperate and hard. Tongue, teeth, garbled whimpers and heavy breaths. Marcus suckled at your bottom lip, letting it snap back against your teeth to then suck and bite at your neck. Your hips were shifting to slot his hard cock between the silky lips of your wet cunt. Grinding up and down, the thick vein that rests on his hardness glides easily against your swelling clit.

"Marcus," you weep quietly in his ear. "Oh, my husband. I need you more than life itself. Oh, you're the bravest, strongest soldier known to man. You're so... powerful, so dangerous. You keep your family and your people safe, my love." Saying this all while you're grinding your sweet cunt up and down the length of his hardness has Marcus growing erratic by the second.

He looks down between your bodies. Your cunt lips open like the blooming petals of the sweetest flower. The soft dark curls of your pubic hair rubbing against his own. Your small belly bump that keeps your unborn child safe and sound. Marcus uses his thumb to guide himself inside your cunt, breathing shallowly when the warm tightness sucks him in, inch by inch. Your mouth falls open to let out quiet, needy moans.

"There we go, melculum," Marcus grunts lowly in your ear, lowering his hips further down into yours and his thick cock slides deeper inside your leaking hole. The heat, wetness, and tightness of your cunt has him spiraling already. The knot in the pit of his stomach further unraveling the deeper he gets. "You were made for me," he breathes deeply, the heat of his breath fanning over your sensitive neck.

When he starts fucking into you, he was mindful to not rest his entire weight on your belly. He repositioned himself in a way that had his back curving to drive his hips deeper, faster, and harder into your own. The action had you arching and gasping. Your soft breasts and feet bounced gently from the movements. Marcus lovingly strokes down your temples with his thumbs and kisses you hard once again. Your fingers curl into his hair, now drying and curling beautifully. He looks like a god. It makes you want to cry. But then, his cock starts punching against the one spot that makes you scream.

"Oh! Marcus!" You yelped, eyebrows furrowed and lifted up as your mouth fell open and moans started pouring out. "Right there! Right... there. Ri-ight the-ere!"

He slows his thrusts until he's grinding so deep and so slow. Your moans turned into whimpers. He was able to hear the sloppy noises of your cunt soaking around his hardness. He grins down at you, his dimple deepening when you twitch and writhe.

"So beautiful," he whispers against your jaw. "So ethereal underneath me, writhing and begging for my cock." Marcus sharply drives his cock into your cunt unexpectedly. You let out a long, wanton wail that has his grin widening. He does it again, and again, and again. It was driving you absolutely crazy.

Your slick is most likely dripping out of your hole and onto Marcus' balls which slap against you. You can practically feel the weight of them, so heavy and full of two months' worth of cum. He drags his cock in and out of you slowly now, allowing you to feel every vein and every inch. Your thighs spread wide for him, eager for more. He answered your silent pleas and fucked you at a quicker pace again.

"Wrap your arms around me, Marcus. Oh, please, please, please!" You sobbed quietly, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. He follows immediately. His strong arms wrap under your back and he rests some of his weight onto your front. Your thighs widen to accommodate his size, allowing his cock to nudge deeper in a way that steals your breath. "Just... like... that," you whimpered after each thrust Marcus gives.

He feels dizzy and overwhelmed in a good way. The smell of the homemade soap on your skin, the softness and warmth of your naked skin against his, your sweet moans like a pretty song in his ears, the slick tightness of your cunt sucking him in repeatedly. Feeling, smelling, and hearing all of these at once was enough to finally let him spill out his moans without holding back. His chest vibrates against your bare breasts with each grunt that passes his kissed-raw lips. The vibrations on your sensitive nipples tickled you erotically.

"You are intoxicating," he moans heavily against your sticky skin, his scruff scraping deliciously and his lips and teeth leaving little love bites. "Non possum satis de te." I cannot get enough of you.

With your eyes rolling back and your thighs trembling around his wide hips, you simply cannot control what your body does. Marcus catches you off guard by messily kissing you, his tongue intertwining with your own, tasting each other's saliva. The taste of him had you whining into his mouth. There was a faintness of wine on his tongue. Although you obviously couldn't drink while you bear his child, the lingering taste of it on your husband's tongue was enough to drive you wild. Your hands, originally placed on his shoulder blades, trail down to his tapered waist and finally cling onto his perky bottom. You squeeze the tender flesh and briefly dig your nails into the skin, feeling the muscles clench and unclench with every roll of his hips and cock driving into your cunt.

"Tu parum desperatus es, huh?" Marcus' voice sounded cocky and the grin on his face didn't help. You're a desperate little thing, huh?

One of the things that made your husband a respected leader was his arrogance was never wrongfully directed. He loved to gloat, about anything and everything. But when it came to you, his wife, his ego inflates to the point of popping.

That's when you felt it. The coil in the pit of your stomach gets tighter and tighter, forcing your gooey walls to twitch around Marcus' thickness. He moans lowly at the feeling of it. He hooks one of your thighs over his arm, bracing your knee into your chest to fuck you deeply. The position change had you shuddering, more slick leaking out and staining the sheets below your bodies.

"I'm... I'm... fuuuck!" With one final cry out to the gods, you scratched down Marcus' skin and braced yourself for impact.

Your orgasm washed over you like one of the strongest ocean waves known to man. Your body wouldn't stop twitching and writhing underneath his massive body. The squeezing tightness of your cunt wouldn't let your husband fuck you any longer. He drops down and lets out a final rough grunt before spilling inside of you. He has a entire body shiver as his cock twitches repeatedly, his thick cum spilling out every few seconds. It finally stopped after a whole minute; yes, you were counting. The tickle of his cum hitting you deep inside had you giggling drowsily.

"You should be thanking your husband for giving you a well-needed release, not laughing at him," he hums against your skin, the vibrations of his voice and bristles of his scruff tickling you further, causing you to laugh louder. He feels your belly jumping from your shaking body and he can't help but to smile.

Being in the arms of his wife after a long journey of war and death, there really is no place like home.

#general marcus acacius #general marcus acacius x reader #general marcus acacius x fem!reader #marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x fem!reader #general marcus acacius smut #marcus acacius smut #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii

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whorefordean · 6 months ago

Note

Can you write some Dean Winchester head canons, preferably smutty ones if you’re up to it ☺️

for how often i think about being absolutely annihilated by this man, this took entirely too long to write. my apologies.

anywho... these are all actually factual because i say so!

p.s i apologize for this being so short :/

18+ mdni below the cut

- i stand by the fact that if you don't go on a hunt with dean, this man is sending dick pics or constantly asking you for nudes. usually, you send them just because it's fun, but sometimes you like to tease dean about it.

"but sweetheart, there's no telling how long this case is gonna take," he'll whine over the phone when sam leaves the room for a few hours to go interview a witness or something.

"dean, it's been less than twenty-four hours. i think you'll survive."

"what if i die from blue balls?"

"goodbye, dean."

"wait-" click. dean pouts when you end the call. it doesn't last long though because his phone chimes a few minutes later with a photo from you, followed by a text. "don't die on me."

he one thousand percent sends you a picture a few minutes later of his cum covered hand and cock.

————

-maybe i'm projecting but i think dean gets into the habit of waking you up in the middle of the night because he wakes up horny, like he has a wet dream about you, and bless his heart, he tries so hard to not wake you up. so he starts listing monsters in his head, and analyzes the lyrics to his favorite song. man even tries counting sheep just to distract himself.

but it's no use. so instead, dean starts rubbing your arm softly, cooing your name in an effort to wake you up. you might stir a little, just to get closer to him, but dean hisses when you toss your leg over his waist, brushing against his dick.

he's gripping your thigh tight and then he's biting down lightly on your shoulder, pulling you from your sleep. he almost feels bad for waking you up when you pout at him, but you shift against his cock again, making him groan as all his empathy is flying out the window.

"what's wrong, dean?" you're asking innocently while sitting up, still not having noticed his situation.

"fuck, sweetheart," he grunts in your ear. you look so confused but so pretty as dean stares up at you. before you can breathe he's shoving his lips onto yours and pulling you to sit on his lap. you moan when you feel his cock rubbing against your clothed pussy.

"fuck, dean, again?" you question, choking on a moan. it's the third time this week that he's woken you up like this.

"it's a wasted dream if it's not about me being buried deep inside you," he smirks proudly.

————

- dean finds out that you like listening to audio porn (in badjhur we trust) so he records some for you. finds out what your favorite tags are somehow and incorporates those into it. (the tongue clicks 🫣)

- dean is so used to slapping your ass at home that he will do it constantly in public. he doesn’t even smirk about it like he does at home. just stares at you with wide im sorry eyes while you glare at him with that so help me god look.

- dean is a munch. will spend all day buried between your thighs just because he can. you’re begging him to stop. whining bc it’s too much and he’s just all heavy breathing as he stares up at you. sweetheart please, i missed you. he’ll give the same excuse every time, even though he’s only been gone for maybe an hour to do a beer run.

- dean is soooo into face sitting. he’s definitely the type that will force you to actually sit because he does take personal offense if you hover.

- he's so into free use. you can't tell me different. getting to use and play with his sweetheart whenever he wants? say less.

- also he loves to cum inside you and make you cockwarm him after so none of it leaks out

-oh my god. he burns you a cd called "sexy time with my sweetheart." and now he refuses to listen to any of the songs on it outside of the bedroom because he's conditioned to get hard when he hears them.

#dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester headcanons #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader smut #spn #supernatural smut

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forwards-beckon-rebound · 3 months ago

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jason todd instagram hcs

basics

his account's private

he created it around the same time he first knew about you

yes, he did do it because he realized it's probably weird for him to not have any sort of social media

and then randomly posted 2 things so he looked interesting (the shirtless pic may or may not be intentional and obviously the books to show his intellectual side or whatever)

really really bad with social media and all of the naming stuff (i mean are we surprised)

followers + following

mostly his family, friends, and other vigilantes he's worked with

literally whooped with joy the day wonder woman requested to follow him and he would not shut up about it

only person he's following is you ofc (he has a burner account so he can follow people and make sure his brothers aren't doing stupid stuff but he won't admit it)

highlights

yes he does refer to you as his wife to anybody who will listen (and even if they don't he'll still try to anyways)

it's a lot of photos of you guys on dates, some candids of you, basically whenever he thinks you look pretty (all the time) and you let him post the photo

i don't really see him being particularly sappy with his words so he probably just writes like "with my girl" or "date night" or something simple like that

and then some like classic rock song in the bg

honestly idrk what nunya is, i just thought it'd be funny to use that pic for something

probably him hanging out with his friends or random funny stuff he sees

will beat up a guy and then be like "lol went to check this guy's id and his name is deadass buford"

dog is of course photos of your dog, dog!! you guys share custody of her and you would kill anybody for her

there are some photos of him and dog that you've taken

but a lot of them are of you and dog

he likes to go through his wife and dog highlights when he's away on missions and stuff like that (but also he definitely has folders with way more photos on his phone)

posts

he doesn't post that often

but when he does it's usually of you lmfao

definitely posted the third pic from the bottom up when you guys got together

you took the photos of him for him and convinced him to post his to his instagram for once

the book he's reading is actually one you recommended

you guys have a mini book club between the two of you (you guys just read and annotate books and then trade)

you got him the harley davidson jacket because you figured he should have different jackets when he's going out as red hood and as jason todd or else he's not gonna have a secret identity for very long

he's kind of obsessed with it

accidentally got some sort of theme going on? you think it's so funny because this man didn't even know that instagram themes were a thing

dick ver.

#i may or may not have a dick grayson ver in my drafts #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd hc #jason todd smau #jason todd imagine #jason todd fic #jason todd fanfiction #batman comics #batman #dc robin #arkham knight #red hood hcs #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n

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hornychristianprincess · 8 months ago

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wasted (leehan x fem reader) FINAL

paring: leehan x fem reader, ft. taesan genre: smut, fluff, angst, fuckboy!leehan word count: 15k summary: finally confessing your feelings to leehan leads to a reaction you could have never prepared for. warnings: unwanted sexual advances (NOT from leehan), explicit [consensual] sex scenes, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it ppl) read on ao3 if you please by clicking HERE.

“Jaehyun, you have a lot of friends, right?” asks Leehan when he and his roommate are relaxing in their shared living room, doing homework. “Do you know anyone who works in the tutoring office? Blonde streak of hair?”

It’s the only attributes he can remember about the guy he saw you entering your room with only a few days ago, noticing the blue tutoring office logo on the chest of his polo shirt and the distinctive stripe of color in the middle his head.

“Oh yeah, I think you’re talking about Taesan,” says Jaehyun, who luckily isn’t paying attention enough to his roommate to notice how he perks up at just the name. “Why?”

Even Leehan himself isn’t exactly sure why he cares so much.

It’s hypocritical at best and gross at worst to think that you have any less of a right to screw around than he does.

But whether it's his innate territoriality coming into play or the fact that he’s upset it wasn’t him at your side instead, he can’t help but see you differently after what he saw.

“I saw him with some girl I was fucking. Sexual partners are like cars – You don’t want one everyone gets to use, you know?”

Jaehyun, who had up until this point been lying on the floor and playing idly with his Nintendo switch, sits up to look at Leehan. “You’re not talking about Y/N, are you?”

The first thought that comes to a surprised Leehan’s mind is what he said to have tipped Jaehyun off. Failing to think of any divertive lie, he decides there’s no harm in Jaehyun knowing, only wondering, “How’d you find out?”

“I saw her going into your room the night of my Halloween party,” he explains reasonably, before his voice and facial expression turn suddenly serious. “You shouldn’t talk about her like that. She’s going through a lot right now. She just failed all of her midterms and she might get kicked out of school.”

“Wait, really?” asks Leehan, who is hit with a sudden pang of deja vu as if he’s heard this before but doesn’t remember from where.

And then, it’s with a sudden and strong surge of embarrassment that he remembers the moment when he was feeling horny and decided to send you a dick pic, pressing the little blue arrow after only briefly glancing at the above messages.

“Oh shit. I think she told me that.”

Jaehyun laughs jeeringly, the resentful sound of which brings Leehan out of his own spiraling thoughts. “You’re an asshole, man,” he asserts, saying it in a way that’s so casual it’s as if it’s just a known fact.

Not an insult or a compliment, but simply a thing that’s true.

And somehow, the neutrality of it hurts worse.

“No offense, but I totally hope she forgets she ever met you.”

Hit by the irony of such cruel words being preceded by no offense, Leehan becomes sarcastic to avoid having to express the true hurt of being told that. “None taken. That seriously wasn’t offensive at all, Jaehyun.”

Maybe Jaehyun is right. After working so hard to emphasize the line between being fuckbuddies and being in a relationship, yet still finding himself acting the exact way he feared you would, isn’t asshole the only way to truly express how shitty he’s being about this?

It’s at that moment that Leehan considers that perhaps this relationship between the two of you has spiraled out of control.

Because something that should be inherently easy and casual has now caused him far too much regret and remorse for his liking.

Sitting in an empty classroom with Taesan, you share a cup of bubble tea, the drinking of which causes you to bump hands several times as you reach out to grab it at the same time.

Interacting with Taesan always brings up sweet and innocent feelings that are like that of childhood crushes, or chasing fireflies on your lawn after dark.

Fall break has long been over and yet you continue to meet with him even outside of your mandatory weekly check-ins, forgetting the anxiety that once plagued you over this arrangement.

The time you spend with Taesan is so fulfilling that you’ve managed to completely forget that Leehan hasn’t contacted you in almost a week.

Well, maybe not completely.

You still wonder from time to time what he’s thinking, if maybe he read the text message you sent prior to his dick pic and internalized the part where you emphasized how you wouldn’t have time for him anymore.

There is of course a tiny part of you that feels empty and abandoned at the idea of him ghosting you and never talking to you again.

But it’s in a stroke of optimism, feigned or otherwise, that you decide to pour your attention into someone who feels like a much better match for you, that someone being Taesan.

“I’m just about to finish with this assignment. After I’m done, do you wanna go to the caf?” you mumble out in inquiry to Taesan as you check over your quiz answers for the last time before submitting.

You hear him make a noncommittal noise in response, which you first interpret as disinterest, but only seconds later recognize to be absent-mindedness as you feel his eyes warming the side of your face.

You let out a chuckle, just about to say something teasing to him for being caught staring at you when a few warm fingers glide across your ear. Taken aback, you meet Taesan’s gaze as he tucks away a piece of your stray hair.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, holding your face in his hand. “You have this…faraway look in your eyes.”

Your eyes dart between his face and his hand that’s slow to come off of your ear, surprised by the sudden bit of physical contact.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answer calmly if maybe a bit shakily, trying to appear normal though your head screams with a million passing thoughts at once. Taesan nods in acceptance of this answer before turning back to his laptop as if nothing happened.

If you were at all a gambling person, you’d bet good money that the telltale, suave move of tucking your hair behind your ear was a way for him to see how you’d react to something less platanotic from him.

And if you were to allow this moment to pass by without saying anything, you know that he would follow your lead and pretend like this never happened. He’d use your silence as evidence that his advances are unwelcome.

Perhaps you’re feeling a little bold, but you don’t want him to go any longer thinking that his interest isn’t reciprocated.

“Wait,” you remark, reaching out to grab Taesan’s wrist. “Taesan, can I kiss you?”

The usually mysterious, confident boy loses his ability to speak when you ask him that, eyes going wide and only nodding to communicate his consent. Finding his sudden shyness charming, you smile as you lean in to press your lips against his.

Taesan’s mouth is just as inviting as you thought it would be all the times you spent staring at it when you were sure he wasn’t looking. He may have acted shy just now, but the way that Taesan kisses you is like fire. He presses his mouth hard against yours, and when his body does the same you soon find yourself pressed into the rolling chair you’re sitting in.

Your hand moves up to tangle in his hair, pulling him in to deepen the kiss. You were sure that Taesan, ever the responsible one, would be the person between the two of you to pull away before things got too heated.

But now, all he does is lean in to your provocations, sticking his tongue into your mouth while you whimper against his.

And as you try to allow your brain to white out so that you can truly relax into the gratification he is sure to give you, all you can think about is how his lips are not Leehan’s lips.

His hands are not Leehan’s hands.

His kiss doesn’t evoke even a fraction of the electricity that Leehan does just by looking at you.

You accept then that self-preservation must be a confounding myth to your psyche, because against all odds, you are still very much into Leehan.

And while you could easily fuck Taesan anyway and let the enjoyment of his sex prove as a temporary salve to the gaping wound that is your feelings for Leehan, you feel too much like he doesn’t deserve to fuck someone with such selfish intentions.

So, it’s with both regret and sobering understanding that you pull Taesan away from you, lines of spit breaking into drool as you separate.

The two of you become temporarily frozen in a moment of both confusion and shock. Taesan, looking at you with widened eyes and reddened lips, asks in a small yet urgent voice, “What? Is something wrong?”

You already feel like a piece of shit as you loosen your grip on Taesan’s hair, letting your hands fall to your lap and noticing that his still rest on your waist. “Taesan…” you begin, and already at just the sound of his name, you can see his expression wilting, like he knows by the unsure tone of your voice exactly what you’re going to say. And how couldn’t he, when you suck so badly at giving bad news?

“I think you’re an amazing person. And believe me when I say I really, really wanted this between us,” you emphasize, wishing you could get swallowed up by a hole as he continues to stare at you in dumbfounded awe.

You know that these aren't words anyone wants to hear but you feel compelled to say them, feeling like Taesan deserves honesty from you.

“To be completely candid with you, the reason why I’m on academic probation is because of a guy. A recent guy who treated me like shit, but because I’m an idiot, I still want him.”

You wait on edge for the moment when Taesan’s disposition will return to that of the understanding, kind person you’ve come to know, the moment when you’ll both laugh at the awkwardness of this situation and allow yourselves to forget it ever happened.

Instead, though, all you see in Taesan’s eyes is a fiery passion that makes your head hurt as you realize he won’t let this rejection go down easily.

“You know that doesn’t matter to me right? We don’t have to…be all romantic, and shit. I’m fine with something casual. Happier with that, even.”

It’s with a pang of insecurity that you fight back a self-pitying laugh at those words, wondering what it is about you that makes men only want casual, no-strings-attached relationships with you.

“I’m sorry for making things awkward. And if you don’t want to tutor me anymore after this, I’d completely understand,” you concede in the nicest possible tone you can muster, still incredibly conscious of Taesan’s hands that have still not left your waist. “But I can’t do this, Taesan. You’re amazing but I just…I can’t, okay?”

When Taesan continues to stare at you as if he isn’t comprehending a word that’s coming out of your mouth, you reach down to move his hands off of your waist yourself, and when you do, you’re shocked when you feel his fingers seizing around your wrists to hold them in place.

“You’re being ridiculous, Y/N. So what if you’re not over your ex? That shouldn’t stop you from getting your rocks off,” he says, voice rising considerably as he squeezes your wrists so harshly it begins to hurt.

It’s at this moment that you realize you’ll never be able to look at Taesan the same again.

No longer the sweet, kind and helpful boy you first met, he looks pathetic and at worst, scary as he continues to refuse your rejection.

“Taesan, I’m really gonna need you to let go of me,” you request, saying it without any niceties as you manage to convince yourself that maybe he’s just taking this extra hard for whatever reason and just needs to hear you being serious so that he can come to his senses. “Listen, how about we end early for today and talk about this another time–”

“I’m not letting you leave until you can look me in my eyes and give me one good reason why we shouldn’t do this,” he asserts, still holding your wrists, laughing a little in a way that makes it hard for you to tell if he knows that he’s making you uncomfortable or thinks that this is all just some game of hard-to-get. “You can act coy all you want but I know you want me, I could tell as soon as I met you.”

“I’m gonna tell you to let go of me one more time, Taesan, and then I start screaming,” you threaten, no longer feeling amused or pitiful but instead angry, adrenaline running through your veins as you consider the possibility of having to physically attack him.

You’re not sure how things escalated so quickly but now you’re quickly regretting ever befriending Han Taesan in the first place, ever thinking that he could be a permanent fixture in your life.

Catching you by surprise, Taesan stands up suddenly from his chair and drags you up with him. It’s in a flurry of movements that he somehow manages to pin you against a wall, smirking down at you from above.

You let out a squeal but he covers your mouth, strong enough to use only one of his hands to keep your arms pinned above your head. He laughs as you struggle against him, perhaps not realizing – or worse, realizing it and getting off on how deeply he’s managed to scare you.

“What?” he asks through upturned lips, pressing his body into yours. “Don’t girls like it when guys don’t take no for an answer?”

It’s in the strangest and most serendipitous stroke of luck that you hear the sound of the classroom door swinging open.

And when you turn your head to meet the gaze of your savior, it’s Leehan who you see standing there, taking in the scene in front of him.

It feels stupid and random that of course it’s Leehan who just happened to be the person to walk in here, but you don’t dwell too much on the details, focused on the relief that floods through you knowing there’s someone here to intervene on your behalf.

Leehan hesitates momentarily as he wonders if he’s just had the misfortune to accidentally walk in on the kinky foreplay between you and this new guy you’ve been seeing. Attending a lecture in this same building, he happened to walk by the classroom and hear a distressed voice that sounded vaguely familiar.

Through the fogged glass material of the door, he could just barely make out your silhouette, instinctually barging in to see what was going on.

If Leehan didn’t know you so well, he might’ve immediately bolted at the sight of you engaging in intimacy with someone else. It would be too much and he knows it would force him to confront his conflicting feelings towards you.

But the moment he meets your gaze and sees the steely, ice cold fear that’s in your eyes, his next moves are made clear. Without questioning anything, he steps forward and punches an already staggering Taesan in the face.

The punch causes Taesan to fall backward, blood that you aren’t sure is coming from his lip or his nose splattering onto the floor. You and Leehan remain frozen, you in shock at both Taesan’s actions and Leehan’s sudden presence, and Leehan with the adrenaline of becoming unexpectedly violent.

It’s in that moment of stillness on both of your parts that Taesan has time to recover, and before you can react, he’s leaping forward to tackle Leehan onto a nearby desk.

You let out a squeal of shock as the two men struggle, causing desks and their chairs to fly around the room haphazardly in the process.

And to your horror, Taesan quickly gets the upper hand over Leehan, sitting on top of the shorter boy in a straddling position before letting his hands fly in a series of devastating punches.

You go to pull him off but he pushes you away, forcing you then to search frantically for your phone in the hopes of calling campus security before Leehan is pulverized any further.

“Hey, is something going o—” you hear an unfamiliar voice ask, and you look up to find that you’ve been discovered by a complete stranger, a boy who you assume is another student by his shaggy attire and backpack. He answers his own question by glancing into the room and catching sight of Taesan and Leehan who are both now bleeding as they remain wrestling on the floor.

You’re just about to enlist the stranger to help you in dragging Taesan off of Leehan when, suddenly, you don’t have to.

Realizing that the stranger’s presence could mean that even more people could arrive to inspect what’s causing all of this noise any second, you watch as the fear of getting in trouble overtakes Taesan’s expression until he’s getting up.

He gets up and sprints out of the classroom wildly, shoulder checking the stranger in the process as he flees out of the building.

“Should I run after him?” asks the student at the door who you’re sure is still processing what he’s just seen. But more than anything else, you’re worried about Leehan, who you just saw taking several punches to the face and is laying down on the ground making strangled, agonized noises.

“No. It’s better that you scared him away. I just need to get him to the infirmary,” you reply, trying to sound more calm and controlled than you feel but hearing how your adrenaline from the past few minute’s events causes your voice to come out shaky and broken. The stranger asks if you need any help but you wave him away, deciding it would be too much of a burden to have to explain what just happened to anyone else.

So it’s by yourself that you go to hover over Leehan’s body and try to push back the horror of seeing his face bloodied and bruised so that you can help him onto his feet.

And because most of the damage seems to be centralized on his face — maybe his back and head, too, after being tackled onto the ground — he mostly manages to stand up on his own. Though, once on his feet, he has to lean on you to avoid staggering.

“Don’t…let him…go, Y/N,” he mumbles, making you feel even more concerned and on edge as his garbled tone makes it sound like he’s one step away from passing out. “He was…hurting you, wasn’t he?”

“It’s fine, Leehan. Let’s just get you to the infirmary,” you reply dismissively, needing him to be pliant more than anything in this moment so that you can get him to your thankfully close by campus infirmary without issue.

Your transgression with Taesan with startling and for a brief moment, terrifying. But with him now gone, the majority of your distress lies with Leehan and making sure he’s okay.

And to your relief, as you take a few steps forward with Leehan’s arm leaned over your shoulder, he remains upright and mostly autonomous in his movements.

He continues to say nothing on your way out of the building outside from the occasional groan, and you’re sure that as the adrenaline wears off that the pain in his face must become more present. You luckily make it to the infirmary moments later, where the doctor on call takes one look at Leehan’s face and immediately rushes him into a care room.

Everything that happens after that is a bit of a blur for you. A campus security officer comes to take a statement from you. You tell him everything, giving him Taesan’s full name and picture in the hopes that it can lead to some type of action, although a part of you feels discouraged and numb at that notion.

You wait anxiously in the lobby of the infirmary, waiting for an update from the doctor and feeling like you’re gonna throw up when the older woman comes out from the hallway with a neutral, unreadable expression on her face.

“Hi ma'am. Your friend is doing just fine. All of the cuts on his face are superficial, so they’ll heal on their own. He’ll have some bruises and swelling, which will also go away with time. He does have a bit of a concussion, so we’ll send you both home with some Tylenol. If you’d like to come and see him, you can follow me.”

Though you figured that most of his injuries were minor, you still feel relieved to hear that nothing is significantly wrong; it’s irrational, but you know you would have been eaten alive with guilt had anything serious happened.

Getting up to follow the doctor, you walk into the care room to find Leehan sitting on the edge of an examination chair, a nurse still applying little white bandaids to a cut on his cheek. When he sees you come in he smiles, though only fleetingly as the gesture causes him to wince in pain.

You don’t know what to say to him, so you opt to sit down on a chair that’s directly next to his dangling legs. You watch as the nurse goes to prod at a separate wound on his lip with a q-tip dipped in brown liquid. You don’t realize how tense you are until you feel the warmth of a hand over yours, and when you look up, Leehan is staring at you in amusement.

“You’re shaking,” he observes, and though he can’t smirk without it causing him pain, he still gazes at you in a way that is teasing and smug. And the fact that he’s concerned about you when he’s the one who’s getting medical attention makes you let out a cynical, humorless laugh.

“Don’t worry about me. Look what he did to you.”

“I’m still good-looking, though, aren’t I?” he replies playfully, and because you’re so upset, you feel yourself almost inclined to scold him for making such jokes in light of the circumstances. But Leehan, never one to read the room or adhere to the tones and moods of others, is laughing as he commands, “You have to tell me or I’ll have an internal crisis.”

You stare at him with your eyebrows furrowed, wanting to be annoyed by him but not being able to help your smile as he continues to await your confirmation of his enduring looks with a pout.

Rolling your eyes, it’s with a bit of resistance in your voice that you reply, “Yes, you’re still handsome, Leehan.”

He pumps his fist up in the air triumphantly, and with that, the nurse leaves the room, telling you that she’ll return with the official paperwork needed so that he can be discharged.

Once she’s gone, it’s quiet between the two of you until Leehan breaks the silence with a question. “That guy…his name’s Taesan, right?”

You’re taken aback, both at the sudden change in his tone and disposition – his voice now serious and inquiring – and the fact that he even knows who Taesan is. “How do you know?”

“I saw you with him outside of your dorm. Asked Jaehyun who he is,” he responds plainly. And as you take in this information, you’re not sure what to say in reply. Even just knowing that he was outside of your dorm that day when Taesan came to your room and didn’t say anything makes you think he must’ve had some kind of reaction to seeing the two of you together.

And as you put the timing together, it makes sense why you hadn’t heard from him for a week until now.

But then again, it doesn’t make sense. Because the Leehan you know, the Leehan you’ve come to resent, surely wouldn’t — shouldn't — care to see you with another guy when he’s been so adamant about keeping things non-exclusive between the two of you.

“Are you together?” he asks when you remain silent, and in what feels like a complete switch in power dynamics, you find that Leehan is the one now clearly expressing some kind of worry or at the very least interest in what you get up to when you’re not with him.

And because you feel both vindicated to be on the other side of this sort of questioning, and not at all entitled to tell him the truth, you answer by asking, “If I said yes, what would you say?”

Leehan looks at you, all amusement absent from his expression even as he says somewhat sarcastically, “That I thought being with me meant you had better taste in men.”

His response causes you to scoff, the idea of him thinking that he’s somehow at a higher caliber than all the other similarly emotionally-unavailable men on your campus something you find absurd.

And yes, maybe it’s because you’re already feeling a little bitter towards him that you’re then replying scathingly, “If anything, wouldn’t my interest in you mean the opposite?”

“Funny,” he says sardonically in reply. The atmosphere between the two of you currently is tense. He resents you for being with someone else and you resent him for setting boundaries for your relationship that he never intended to follow.

And yet, despite the unresolved negative emotions that are clearly swimming between the two of you, it feels absurd and crazy to say that as you continue to make unbroken and silent eye contact, you feel like he’s about to kiss you.

That’s the sort of crazy chemistry you seem to have with one another, where even as you both have the rationality to recognize the toxicity of this dynamic you both still find yourselves magnetically pulled to one another in a way that, in most people’s eyes, would be viewed as mindless.

But it’s just as you swear he’s leaning in that the doctor comes into the room, handing Leehan a clipboard and telling him he can go once he’s finished filling out a few forms. You wait for him, not sure what will happen once you leave but feeling almost responsible to at least see him to his apartment.

And so, you exit the hospital together, and it’s as you’re walking out that you voice to him truthfully, “It feels weird just dropping you off like you didn’t just get your face rearranged trying to save me.”

He lets out a chuckle in response, swinging his body so that he’s standing in front of you before shrugging and saying, “Then don’t drop me off. We could go to your dorm, watch a movie.”

The request to do something as simple as watch a movie sounds so foreign coming out of his mouth that you can’t help but laugh out loud. “When do we ever watch a movie?” you ask, repeating the words in disbelief.

You’re mostly joking when you ask that, but it’s with a tiny pang of sadness that you acknowledge the tragedy of him wanting your company for something other than sex being something that’s so unbelievable.

“Today. Rocky V is probably ill-timed, but I love a good nature documentary,” he replies with a grin, and as always, you are unable to get a read on his expression to know if he is being serious or not.

But today has been a crazy day and you know that being in your room by yourself after everything that’s happened is only going to make you feel worse. So, deciding that there’s no harm in keeping him company for just a little while longer, you allow him to lead the way to the building that he’s been to so many times.

You know from learning your roommate’s schedule that she’ll be in a lab for the next 3 hours, a fact that makes you feel relieved as you enter your dorm with Leehan trailing behind you. He comes in and immediately collapses onto the couch, spreading his arms out on either side of the cushions in a way that brings renewed attention to his broad shoulders.

“So. Do you actually want to watch a movie?” you ask casually as you stand a few feet away from him, trying your hardest to keep any bitterness out of your tone as you watch him shrug his shoulders nonchalantly.

“You know, now that I’m here…” he says, already smirking as he watches you fight the urge to roll your eyes. “It feels like a much better idea for you to come sit on my lap.”

Even though you find yourself enticed by the invitation, in a small, distant part of your brain, it feels like you’ve been manipulated into letting him come to your room. That watching a movie had always been a lie to get you to have sex with him.

But something has changed inside of you, and from what, you can’t pinpoint. All you know is that the accumulations of lies and divertive tactics that you’ve endured from Leehan thus far has left you almost numb to his provocations.

Instead of feeling sad or shitty or upset, you just feel nothing.

And somehow, that change feels more concerning to you than the emotions from before did.

Still, you find yourself stalking silently to Leehan on the couch, his eyes never leaving yours as you make your way towards him. His legs spread naturally as you get between them, and it’s with a jaguar-like slowness that you crawl over his body until you’re straddling him.

Intensity rolls off of the both of your bodies like water, the silence and shared eye contact only contributing to the growing sexual desire that builds between the two of you.

In contrast to such lust, it’s in a gesture of affection that you lean in to lay a gentle, barely-there kiss against all of the wounds on his face. The cut on his cheek. His busted bottom lip. The knot forming on the top of his head. The bruise on the side of his jaw. You do it almost in apology but also because you want him to tease him, giving him only fleeting touches and kisses before you do anything substantial. He flinches at first at the contact but eventually relaxes into the softness of your lips against him.

And though you couldn’t articulate the reason why, you get the feeling that he flinches less out of pain, but more in surprise at the unfamiliar gesture of tenderness and how it impacts him.

You’ve only just reached his neck, sucking hickies into the pale skin there, when you can feel his cock hardening underneath you.

It’s after you’ve kissed every single piece of skin uncovered by his shirt that you decide to relieve a bit of his suffering by reaching a hand down into the waistband of his pants. All you do is close your fist around his shaft and stroke him languidly, but you suppose your teasing worked better than you thought as he whimpers at the simplest of movements. He bucks into your hand, not afraid of seeming desperate and shamelessly moaning at your touch.

Watching him writhe and shudder beneath you, sensitive in a way you’ve never seen before, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that this is one of the few times that you’ve felt even a semblance of control in your interactions during sex. It’s always been you on the receiving end of his endless repertoire of tactics, designed always to render you incomprehensible and under the thumb of his persuasion.

Spurred on by the observation, you take advantage of his submission to ask a question that’s been on your mind since you left the hospital.

“Can I ask you something? Why did you ask Jaehyun who I was with?”

You can just barely make out the expression of surprise that appears faintly behind Leehan’s glassy eyes, and in a tactic that even you admit is slightly contemptible, you never stop the movements of your hand as you await his answer.

Desperate for even a moment’s worth of vulnerability from him, you hope that by literally dangling his climax in your hands that he’ll be more inclined to be truthful with you.

But for Leehan, giving you the honest answer — that he’s simply a jealous person who can’t stand seeing you with someone else even though it’s hypocritical — would only serve in making you think that his jealousy is a sign of caring, his caring a sign of affection, his affection a sign that he wants to be your boyfriend.

And though that assessment isn’t as easy to refute as it may have once been when he first met you, it seems idiotic to put any ideas in your head that could lead to him having to admit feelings he isn’t quite sure of yet.

So, in lieu of the truth, he replies with something that, honestly, should be a bigger concern for him than it presently is: “Because you should tell me if you’re being intimate with someone else. What if you’re not using protection and I catch something?”

Up until now, you had prepared yourself to react calmly to whatever Leehan’s answer would be, a task you knew would be difficult because the idea of him being jealous at all is in itself insane and backwards.

It was he who insisted that this dynamic be free of any constraints or limitations.

But the fact that he’s implying you would have sex with someone else and be so reckless as to not make any precautions for your health has your composure breaking, a scoff leaving you as you blurt out, “Have you been honest with me about the people you’re seeing?”

It’s a question you already know the answer to as you still haven’t forgotten the night of the Halloween party, how Jaehyun let it slip that Leehan had been on a date. You’d never confronted him about it because, deep down, you felt that you had no right to.

But now, he’s placing judgment on you in a way that makes you want to throw all caution to the wind and express your true emotions to him for what seems like the first time.

Hearing the knowing tone in your question has Leehan worried, tilting his head to stare at you as if he’s just now seeing you for the first time. “Are you trying to catch me in a lie, Y/N?” he asks, amusement in his tone though you can tell your questioning rattles him. “I’ve never told you anything that wasn’t true.”

But that’s just because you’ve never told me anything of substance, you think to yourself, reflecting back on all of the times he left your room in a hurry so that he could avoid having to show you anything real.

You continue jerking him off intently, and even though he’s obviously enjoying it, you can tell that you’ve thrown him off. During sex you’ve always maintained this sort of scathing, playful banter, but this time, he knows that your question is motivated by a genuine desire to hear the truth from him. It makes him beyond uncomfortable, especially with his dick still hard and aching in your moving hand. In a sudden change of dynamics, it’s him trying to read what you’re thinking.

Seeing this crack in Leehan’s usually guarded persona spurs you on into saying even more things that you’ve been suppressing. “I know that you’re seeing someone else,” you assert, honesty you never thought you’d be capable of expressing coming out boldly and without ambivalence. “Jaehyun told me, the night of the Halloween party.”

Your eyes are glued to Leehan’s face as you scan for the smallest fluctuation in his expression, searching desperately for any indication of what he’s thinking. And in yet another gesture that might as well be a verbal admission of guilt, Leehan stares up at the ceiling to avoid your gaze.

Leehan – confident, cool, teasing Leehan – who has always made you feel like you were scared of intimacy for not wanting to make eye contact with him during sex, is now the one shying away the intensity of your gaze.

The feeling of triumph that comes with finally feeling like you have him at your mercy after months of the opposite has you speeding up the movements of your hand, watching as he almost winces from the overstimulation you provide.

But more than anything else, you want answers.

You want to know why he thinks it’s okay to police who else you invite into your bedroom when he clearly does whatever he wants without any regard for you.

You want him to decisively and plainly decide if he’s either a sadistic asshole who believes that he should be able to treat you like shit while he goes out and fucks whoever he wants—Or if, like you, the passion of this relationship has overwhelmed him so much that he now finds himself feeling things for you that are beyond sexual, things that have caused him to abhor the notion of you being with someone other than him.

It feels like you need the answer to that question more than you need air.

And so, it’s in desperation that your voice comes out shaky as you demand, “Say something.”

“I can’t,” he manages through gritted teeth, the sound of his voice coming out raspy and submissive making your cunt pulse with arousal. “You’re about to make me come.”

Feeling like he’s being backed into a corner, Leehan wants to tell you to stop, but the euphoria he’s experiencing is too great. He’s never seen you be so assertive, so purposeful in doing things that you know will make him go crazy.

Rubbing your thumb over his tip. Spitting downward so that the wetness of your spit can reach his cock. Stroking him wildly and meeting his thrusts into your fist.

Pressure builds in his abdomen until he feels himself about to explode with what might be the most intense climax of his life.

But in a move that shocks the both of you, it’s just as Leehan is about to finish all over your hand that you abruptly pull off of him.

Stop the movements of your hand and watch brazenly as the realization of what you just did is processed on his face.

Maybe he thought that you were joking and that this was all just some aggressive manner of foreplay.

But now, he can see in your shocked expression, how you look so surprised at even your own insistence, that to deny him of his pleasure in this way was something that took a lot out of you.

It’s been a hallmark of your relationship so far for you to devote yourself to his satisfaction. You’ve always cared so much about being wanted by him, even after he’s shown his disregard for you time and time again.

And so to see you work up the courage to defy him in this way makes it clear to him that you’re not gonna drop this.

This isn’t something that he can smile or flirt his way out of in the hopes of having you wrapped around his finger for just one more day.

You’re gonna force this into being an issue. And fine; if you want to have this conversation, he’ll have it.

Even if it means that by the end of this you'll realize how shitty of a person he is and want nothing to do with him afterward.

If you were still the same pliant, conflict-avoiding Y/N, you’d be alarmed at the change in his expression and how his usual amused smirk melts into a straight-lined frown. You’d transform into the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed girl who’d laugh and pretend that this was all just a way to rile him up into fucking you, hoping that you could forget this moment ever happened.

But it feels like something has been lost in your dynamic that can never be brought back. You’re no longer okay with being lied to, manipulated. And Leehan, realizing how serious you are, seeks to take back control of this situation by flipping your bodies over so that you’re on your back and he’s on top of you.

He pins your arms above your head, holding them down so you can’t move.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to hear the answers to.”

He says the statement with a warning sort of tone but it only makes you laugh, no longer able to take his provocations and vague answers seriously. “Then don’t try to act hypocritical and treat me like I’m a fucking irresponsible idiot,” you retort, no hint of banter in your words as you hope he understands how serious you’re being, how done you are with his lies. “Having sex with guys without protection and not telling them about it. How do I know you haven’t been doing the exact thing you’re accusing me of?”

You ask a valid question that Leehan sees no way to get out of answering. Clearly, you already know (because of his disloyal, talkative fucking roommate) that he’s been seeing at least one girl that isn’t you. And because he can tell with certainty that your pliance is dependent on at least some kind of honesty from him, he tells you a technical truth when he says, “Since I met you, I’ve only been fucking you. No one else. I swear.”

It’s an answer that protects him from having to further delve into whether he’s seeing anyone else romantically, an important distinction that he isn’t interested in clarifying for the sake of your continued interest in him.

And as he watches you scan his face, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you seek to find any indication of either sincerity or hypocrisy in his expression, he seizes the opportunity provided by your momentary lapse in questioning to reach past the waistband of your leggings, sticking two fingers into your pulsing cunt.

He watches with satisfaction as even in your bitterness, you still can’t help the way your back arches and your mouth parts naturally at the action. Mirroring your tactics from before, he gives you great satisfaction in exchange for your hopeful compliance. Thrusting his long fingers inside of you, he mumbles in sensual truth, “Your pretty, wet pussy is the only thing that’s been occupying my brain for the last three months.”

The part of your brain that would question the credibility of his words is turned off like a lightswitch as the thrill from his fingers takes over. As much as you try to fight off what you’re experiencing so that you can regain the upper hand, it feels like it’s almost in revenge that he fingers you with such vigor that you can’t speak.

“Can you say the same? Huh, pretty?” he demands, digits angled just right so that the tips of his fingers repeatedly push against your most sensitive parts. “Tell me I’m the only person whose been fucking orgasms into your cunt.”

You could usually appreciate such possessive sentiments from Leehan when they were spoken in moments where there wasn’t any lingering resentment between the two of you. Now, they only annoy you, causing you to petulantly reply in mocking of his earlier words, “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

And in a move that is surely in imitation of your earlier actions, he pulls his fingers out of you completely and with them, your orgasm. His expression is a handsome mixture of annoyance and frustration.

It feels like the two of you are in some sort of scornful, unspoken competition, you trying to get him to be honest and him trying to get you to drop this entirely. And all of this undercut by the fact that both really wanna fuck each other, only adding to the frustration of your pleasure being taken away.

Though your body reels regretfully from the sudden drop in adrenaline, it’s with an unmoved expression on your face that you sit up, making yourself level with him.

“What?” you retort derisively, amused to find him upset at tactics you only know because he modeled them for you so many times before. “Does it make you mad?”

“No,” he answers, a fierce expression on his face that lets you know despite the desire radiating between the two of you that he’s being serious when he says, “It makes me question the type of person you are.”

And as you poke his chest assertively, you reply, “A person abiding by the standards that you set,” reminding him once more how he lacks the right to feel entitled to your body.

You again question why he continues to insist that a no-strings attached arrangement is what he wants when it’s clear he doesn’t want you with anyone else.

And so, it’s in your confusion that you ask, “I’m giving you exactly what you want. So why does it feel like you’re punishing me?”

“This isn’t what I want,” he says in reply. And the way that he says it almost quietly, like a stream-of-consciousness that was accidentally blurted out loud, has you inclined to believe that maybe, he’s finally coming around to seeing just how poorly suited this arrangement is for the both of you.

So, it’s with a curious tilt to your voice that you ask, “Then what do you want?”

Looking at you with a sort of urgent, unyielding expression on his face, it’s after a moment of intense and searing silence between the two of you that he leans in to kiss you roughly. What was once a moment of willful competition between the two of you now becomes intense and panicked as the passion of the last few moments takes over your bodies.

Your hands move in a frenzy as you rush to take off one another’s clothes, and you get the feeling that had the fabric provided any real obstacle, you both would’ve been willing to rip each other’s pants and tops off. Actualizing your desire for one another becomes the most important and serious task to have ever been endeavored upon.

You’ve only just removed your final article of clothing when Leehan crawls between your legs, finding you soaked and pulsing in anticipation of his touch. Noticing this, he can feel himself going crazy with all of the unanswered questions he has about you and Taesan. He finds himself vocalizing these thoughts shamelessly as he mumbles, “Fuck, Y/N. I need you to be honest with me. Because if someone else has had this pussy, I’m gonna go crazy.”

“Make me come, and I’ll give you a straight answer,” you defiantly reply.

Tired of your games, it’s in expression of his growing impatience that Leehan slaps your pussy uncaringly. The act sends a jolt of shock through your body but especially your clit, making you moan in a mixture of both pain and pleasure.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he says, and rather than being amused by his insistence like you were before, it's for the first time that you find yourself intimidated, as well as turned on. “Tell me the truth.”

Leehan has always been the leader in your sexual dynamic, but you’d never describe him as rough or dominant until now. Rattled by the change, you aren’t able to manage a reply to his demand, but it’s then that Leehan raises himself up so that your faces are level.

Making sure to keep his eyes on yours this time, he pushes three fingers inside of your aching cunt — more than you’ve ever taken from him and enough to have your eyes rolling back upon impact.

“Tell me that this pussy is mine,” he demands as he fucks you open with his fingers. You’ve never seen him this fired-up, this crazed, and it has you more turned on and pliant than you think you’ve ever been before.

His fingers thrust in and out of you with strength you’ve never felt before, and in an amount of time that you find to be pathetic, you can feel your stomach tensing with an approaching climax, moans leaving your mouth with every breath and every curl of his fingers.

But for the second time tonight, Leehan notices you’re about to come and rips it away from you by withdrawing his fingers entirely. And unlike before, you can’t pretend not to be dismayed as you whimper wistfully at the loss of contact. Leehan, unamused, only stares at you from above and says with finality in his tone, “Tell me the truth, and I’ll make you come.”

You can see now how serious he’s being, how important this is to him, and though you find it entirely irrational, the pulsing of arousal in your body is too strong to ignore.

“I never fucked him. He never touched me until today.”

“And anyone else besides him?”

“There’s no one else, Leehan,” you assure him, body wracked with the weight of several heavy breaths as you practically beg for him to believe you, to touch you, to relieve the almost painful aching of your cunt. “Just you.”

You’re pleasantly surprised when he doesn't require any additional scrutiny before accepting your answer at face value, muttering an approving “Good girl,” before diving between your legs.

And you guess by the almost hungry, desperate way he then proceeds to eat you out that his easy acceptance of your word is just as much in service to his own desire to taste you as it is to you and your enjoyment.

Because you find not just in this instance but always that Leehan gives head like his survival is dependent on your arousal. He licks and sucks and mouths at your clit, moaning languidly into your core like it's the best thing he’s ever tasted.

And as if that’s not enough to have you reeling, he brings his hand out from underneath your thigh and puts two long, crooked fingers back into your dripping hole, thrusting and curling them inside of you like he’s intent on finding the spot that will make you scream. You throw your head back and close your eyes at the feeling that washes over your body, something like electricity pulsing through you and making your legs shake.

Without intending it, your hips buck against his tongue in chase of your impending orgasm. And when he flattens the wet muscle, allowing you the agency to take your pleasure rather than him having to give it to you, it’s only seconds later when you feel your abdomen contracting with the intensity of your long awaited orgasm.

You’ve barely recovered from the high of your climax when you hear Leehan saying tauntingly from above you, “See? No one else can do that as good as I can.” He then spreads your legs apart, admiring the mess he’s made of you, slick turning your inner thighs shiny and wet. ”Don’t you know now why you shouldn’t fuck anyone else?

Refusing him the satisfaction of an answer, your only response is to sit up and tell him, “Lay down. I wanna ride you.

Leehan’s only show of resistance to this request is a raise of his eyebrow, but he’s otherwise pliant as you maneuver on the couch so that he’s flat on his back. You hover just below his hard-as-a-rock erection, realizing you should go and get a condom, but it feels like an ultimate test of both your honesty that you assertively inform him, “I’m on birth control.”

Understanding what you mean to imply with this admission, you watch as Leehan’s eyes gloss over, another wave of lust taking over at the notion of having raw sex. In a distant part of your brain that isn’t completely corrupted by wanting, you wonder if this is a good idea given that you have no way of proving whether he’s been honest about his sexual history with other girls.

But as you unconsciously scoot closer and allow his cock to brush against your folds, his encouragement of “Then sit on it,” ringing pleasantly in your ears, the only thing that delays you is your desire to further tauny him.

“Look at me,” you command passionately, holding on just barely to your own composure as you fight to get these words out amidst your own lust-corrupted brain. “If you stop, I stop. I want you to look in my eyes when I make you come.”

Leehan, either ignorant to how serious you’re being or uncaring, whimpers out your name in lieu of any indication that he understands and accepts what you’re saying. You sink down on him anyway and allow the feeling of being filled to the brim by his long, veiny cock to wipe out any and all thoughts out of your mind.

“Oh my god, fuck,” he mumbles out in expression of how good it feels, after you’ve only just began bouncing your body up and down his cock. You bear witness to the moment when the embrace of your tight walls becomes too much for him and he throws his head back, disregarding your words from earlier.

And although it hurts you to do so, makes your thighs burn and your lips part to let out a regretful whimper, you pull yourself upwards until his cock slips out of you completely.

“Open your eyes,” you demand assertively, not just for his sake but for your own, so that you can go back to riding the life out of him until you both can come. “Show me why you deserve this. Remind me why I keep letting you fuck me.”

The scathing remark and the brazen expression you wear as you say it causes Leehan to regain his focus, returning his gaze to yours and making sure to maintain it even as your reinsertion of his cock has him fighting not to shut his eyes closed. It’s with a feeling of regretful foreboding that Leehan realizes this is probably going to end way too soon, that the sickening combination of you riding him, your dominant and sultry words, the view of your body from above him, and the intense unbroken eye contact all work in service to his quickly approaching climax.

And even as you too feel yourself inching closer and closer to the point of incomprehensible return, you keep talking, feelings that you’ve been suppressing for too long coming out in sultry, brokenly-spoken expressions. “I want you to savor this moment. Memorize how it feels to be inside of me,” you tell him, and then, leaning down to bite the tip of his ear, you whimper, “Fuck Leehan. You’re so big.”

Your purposeful usage of all the things you know for a fact rile him up the most is not lost on him, and it’s almost like you want him to come as quickly and embarrassingly as possible. He lingers on that thought for less than a few seconds, but even just the fleeting idea of spilling his seed inside of you has his brain entering a whole nother level of depraved and uncontrolled, until he’s muttering out the word “Fuck,” in repeated succession and thrusting up into you wildly. “Gonna come,” he announces only seconds later.

“I know you are, baby. And when you do, remember that I can only make you feel this good,” you reply, surprised at your own ability to sound assured and in control in the midst of your own fast-approaching orgasm. But in a way, it feels like you grow more confident the more you watch his verbal and motor skills deteriorate with every bounce and squeeze of your pussy against his cock.

Making grunting sounds as his thrusts become sloppy and uncontrolled, he replies through gritted teeth, “I know. You’re my favorite girl, Y/N.”

You’ve always hated that term because of the implication it makes that there are other girls with whom he's comparing you to. But as you commit to fighting off all of the weak, vulnerable, sad emotions that have now only rendered you numb, it’s in another show of control that you reply, “Then say it. Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

At first, you aren’t sure if Leehan can even manage a reply as you watch him grow focused and intent on his approaching orgasm. But it’s through a mixture of muffled grunts and whines, his hips never ceasing their thrusts into you, that he begins to speak.

“Your pussy was made for me. It’s all I ever think about. The sex we have – nghh – it’s the best I’ve ever had,” he tells you emphatically.

And the brokenness of his words, the way they come out rushed and passionate as if a suppressed part of him needs you to hear them, has you feeling profoundly impacted by the weight of them.

“You make me crazy, Y/N. I don’t want anyone else. Only you—”

It’s with one final rough, definitive thrust that Leehan comes inside of you. You’re overcome by the feeling of his hot, warm cum filling your walls, pussy clenching around him as you too experience another orgasm. And as you both recover from your highs, you can feel the atmosphere becoming almost instantaneously stuffy and awkward, the realization of what just happened and all of the things you allowed to come out in the heat of the moment hitting you all at once.

Wanting nothing more than to be released from the clutches of this regretful moment, you pull yourself off of him and wince at the feeling of his cum dripping out of you and onto your inner thighs, some of it spilling onto the couch.

And without ceremony, Leehan does what he does best – he gathers his clothes and things and begins to put them on as if nothing happened.

The silence that overcomes the two of you as you sit naked and uncovered on the opposite couch, watching him change, is unlike either of you. You’d usually at the very least manage a few words about how good that was, or small talk about anything fun happening soon on campus. Had Leehan been any good with silence, he might’ve just walked out and not said anything to you at all.

But it’s because of his own manipulative and egotistical desire to continue to remain in your good graces that he says, in desperation to ease the tension, “Hey. By the way, I’m sorry about the picture I sent you. I don’t usually read your messages, so I didn’t see what you had sent me beforehand.”

You stare at him, a mixture of disbelief and hostility coming over you all at once.

Having completely forgotten about the dick picture incident until now, you feel the emotions from then coming back up in a way that feels shocking given the relative inoffensiveness of his apology just now.

It’s hard for you to pinpoint what exactly about the statement sets you off.

Maybe it’s that you just had the most intimate, soul-baring sex, and now he’s basically back to reminding you of just how little he values you and your personhood.

How easy it is for him to completely ignore anything you say to him if it has nothing to do with him and his own pleasure.

And with these emotions more than likely reflected on your face, you watch as Leehan — like a startled deer in headlights — makes what are perhaps the quickest efforts he’s ever done to leave your dorm in a hurry.

“I should get back,” he’s replying coldly as he gets up, throwing his jacket over his body so fast that it folds awkwardly along his sides. “But thanks for this.”

This, he says casually. As if his seed isn’t currently wetting the inside of your legs right now.

“But Leehan, the rain—” you insist. Because you can hear thunder rattling your windows outside and you know that to walk home to his apartment is an entirely irrational notion.

“Don’t worry about me,” he tells you, already halfway to your door as he turns around to look at you, something like regret painted all over his passive expression. “We don’t do that for each other, remember?

And it’s with that last parting, ominous statement that you watch Leehan leave your dorm room without another look in your direction. He’s left your room like this — in a hasty blur without a word or an acknowledgement — more times than you can possibly count.

So why you find yourself overcome with the feeling that this may be the last time you’ll ever see him again, you’re not entirely sure.

But it’s because of that gnawing, persistent feeling, eating at you like it never has before, that you get up and find a robe to throw over your body so that you can go and find Leehan before it’s too late.

You’re not even sure of what you’re going to say when you find him standing on the outside porch of your building, head down and phone in his hand as he waits for an Uber. All you know is that it’s pouring buckets outside and even with the bit of roofing over your heads, the wind still blows rain onto your bodies, rendering his hair and face wet.

“Leehan,” you call out, watching as he turns to you and automatically freezes up as he realizes you followed him out here. “Wait. Don’t go.”

It’s at least a little bit understandable why Leehan appears taken-aback by your words and your presence — any other time you’ve had sex, you’ve never once tried to get him to stay behind, even though he could always notice in your expression or quiet intensity that you wanted him to.

So the fact that you’re here telling him not to go, and because of the nature of the sex you just had, it’s like he already knows that you’re planning to pour your heart out to him, and it’s in fear of that that he finds himself saying wearily, “Y/N—”

“No. Let me talk,” you assert before he can finish, a part of you feeling like if you don’t get these words out now, you never will. And so, fueled by the unexplainable feeling that this may be the last chance for you to tell him how you feel, you channel all the confidence you can possible muster and allow all the suppressed emotions from the last three months to spill out without any filter.

“After we have sex, I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay because you like being with me. I want you to fall asleep with me. I want you to see me and treat me like I’m a human being and not some physical object that you use for sex and nothing else,” you exclaim with a self-pitying scoff.

“And I tried being the chill girl who just goes along with things that are casual. But Leehan, you make me feel things that no one ever has, and it’s not just the sex. For the past few months…it’s felt like my life only truly felt worth living if you were noticing me.”

You can plainly tell by Leehan’s stiff body language and overall lack of reaction that this entire spiel is making him uncomfortable. And as discouraging as the reaction is, now that you’ve started, it feels like you can’t stop until he knows everything that he’s put you through to get to this point.

“And maybe I only feel that way because when we fuck, it’s not like some one-night-stand or throwaway shit. It truly feels like I’m baring my soul to you. And I know that it’s not one sided,” you remark with confidence. Because being in bed with Leehan is the only time when you feel like you can truly understand him. It’s when your hearts, minds, and bodies are in sync and you can both be at your most vulnerable with each other.

“But then you leave, just like you’re doing now. And it makes me feel like the most massive piece of shit you can possibly imagine,” you mumble out with a broken, wet laugh.

Coming to the end of your spiel, you let your arms come down to your sides defeatedly, and with one last imploring look to Leehan’s blank and starry eyes, you ask the question that has been haunting you for the better part of three months now. “So what I guess I want to know is…what is it that’s stopping you from going all in with me? Is it that I’m just…not enough for you to want anything more than sex?” you question, insecurities that have been welling up for so long coming out in a way that has your voice sounding broken. “Or are you just too scared of commitment to allow yourself to feel loved?

“Because that’s exactly what I feel for you. And god dammit, Leehan, but I’m almost 80% sure you feel that way for me too.”

When you’re sure that there’s nothing else left to say and that you got everything you wanted to explain out, it’s with a relieving sigh that your body expels the weight of three months’ worth of pain, sadness, and thoughts of worthlessness.

And because you know it must be a lot to be on the receiving end of the heaviness of those words, it’s not surprising that the next few seconds after you finish speaking are filled by silence. Watching Leehan stare at you intensely, you allow him the time and the grace to process what he’s heard before you jump to assuming the worst of his silence.

But then, his first words to you hit you like an icy blast of wind.

“Y/N, you’re a good person. And the time we’ve spent together has been so much fun for me. But this has always been just that for me…fun. Sex,” he says unambivalently, framing the words delicately though it does nothing to prevent them from hitting you like a freight train. “And I’m sorry if I ever did or said anything that gave you an impression otherwise.

“But honestly, Y/N…” he continues, looking away from you and losing the ability to sugarcoat his thoughts as he expresses, “I told you from the forefront what this was. Why did you say yes if it wasn’t what you wanted?”

He asks a valid question that you unfortunately don’t have the answer to. Because honestly, what were you thinking? Looking back at that moment when he first proposed this arrangement, you have to wonder what possessed you to be delusional enough to think that this would possibly end well.

As embarrassing and humiliating it is to admit, it’s the sex. All those times he told you he desired you, how beautiful you were, how much he wanted you, made you feel like maybe he just didn’t know what he wanted. That eventually he’d come around.

“Because I didn’t think that it was that important to you,” you tell him, feeling your confidence shrinking in real time as your voice comes out quiet and whiny. “I thought…I thought you were changing your mind.”

“I don’t think we should keep doing this, Y/N,” he declares in reply, looking down at the ground in embarrassment. “I like you a lot, but I can’t continue on if I know you have the expectation that this is gonna blossom into something more. I’m sorry, but it’s just not.”

And with that last sobering pronouncement, Leehan runs a hand through his hair, an obviously fake chuckle let out of his lips as he seeks to break the awkwardness of this atmosphere. “This really wasn’t how I wanted this to go,” he mumbles out apologetically, and the way that he stands there stiffly lets you know he wants nothing else than to get away from you right now.

And sure enough, the sound of a notification going off draws both of your attention to his phone. Like a final dagger to your heart and self-esteem, he’s not even able to hide the relief that floods his expression as he announces, “My Uber’s here, so I just…goodbye, Y/N.”

You watch Leehan step off the porch and into the rain, the lack of light and storm clouds rendering him into nothing more but a blurry, gray silhouette.

It’s how you will more than likely remember Leehan as you watch him enter the white Mazda that pulls into the driveway.

Watch the car drive off knowing that you will more than likely never see him again.

He will forever be immortalized in your brain as the stormy force of a presence that came into your life like a tornado, wrecking everything around it and exiting like nothing happened, leaving you a splintered mess of a world to clean up for yourself.

You will be just another Natty, someone Leehan offhandedly mentions to his friends in the car with whoever he chooses to be his next victim, someone he spent a good few weeks with only to never mention them again.

“You’re an enigma, Kim Leehan,” you declared with sincerity. “I don’t want to be your girlfriend either. No offense.”

“None taken,” he replied with breezy indifference, bringing his hand to lay over the one you have on his face. “But don’t say that so easily. You don’t know me well enough yet.”

You rolled your eyes at yet another show of cockiness from him. “And are you saying if I did, I would fall for you?”

Even as his expression remained passive, he replied forebodingly, “Isn’t that usually how these things end?”

He was right.

The next two months of not seeing, talking, or hearing from Leehan go by in a gray-ish, incomprehensible blur.

You complete your classes, managing a passing GPA and thankfully holding on to your scholarship.

You go out to lunch and on study dates with your mutual friends, neglecting to explain why you always need to know who else is coming before you agree to going out.

You attend a couple parties and events on campus, wondering each time whether you’ll run into Leehan and not sure if the rigid feeling over your chest is because of hopefulness or fear at the idea of possibly seeing him.

And as you pack up your things to get ready to move out for the winter, it feels like you should be over this by now. You spent three months together. Tumultuous, but still only three – it doesn’t seem to make sense why you still feel so hurt.

But you’re now learning that situationships are the hardest to comprehend in their aftermath because it’s hard to know what exactly it is that you’re feeling wistful towards. Leehan isn’t your ex, but he’s also not a friend whom you simply grew apart from.

He’s another third thing that you can’t quite capture, making it difficult for you to reminisce on your exciting yet tainted memories with one another.

It’s with these thoughts running through your mind that you finish packing your last few items of furniture, readying them to be stowed away in the back of a U-Haul you rented for the day.

And with your dorm now basically empty, your roommate having moved out a few days before, you can’t help but to view it nostalgically from the vantage point of your doorway, memories of this semester’s escapades coming back to you all at once.

The dresser that you let Leehan stash his condoms in.

Your cheap bed whose loose, metal springs always robbed you of any chance at secrecy in your interactions.

Moving towards your kitchenette, you stare silently at the flowers he gifted you that one day, still alive despite several weeks of neglect. The little cardboard fish he stuck between the petals makes it appear almost like they’re swimming among colorful, sagging coral reefs.

Your eyes flit over to your couch, where you didn’t know at the time would be the last place he fucked you before he’d never talk to you again.

Going over these memories in your mind, it makes sense then why when you hear a knock resounding on your door, the first thing you think of is Leehan.

But surely, you’re just caught up in the emotions caused by the sudden moment of reflection; it has to be an RA, or a neighbor about to ask if they can borrow a broom and dustpan.

When you go to open your door, you don’t consider for a second that on the other end could be the one person you’re not prepared to see right now.

So when it swings open and you’re greeted by a straight-faced, wide-eyed Leehan, whose body is relaxed against the side of your door, it feels like all of the air is knocked out of your body.

“Hi,” he says plainly, straightening his posture when he sees you staring at him staggeringly. To say that you feel conflicted as you take in his handsome, tall form would be beyond an understatement. It doesn’t feel like it’s been that long since you’ve seen each other, and it’s almost like he could tell you right now that he’s here because he wants to fuck you and it would feel normal, like nothing has changed between the two of you.

But even in just making that mental observation, you feel angry and resentful that such a dynamic was normalized among the two of you for so long that you convinced yourself it was okay to be treated that way.

And as you stew in those feelings of renewed bitterness and frustration, you find yourself suddenly and strongly opposed to him being here, asking bluntly, “What is this? Why are you here?”

“I’m here to apologize,” he answers with an imploring look, and habitually you study his expressions in the hopes of discerning whether he’s being sincere or not.

But it’s with a feeling of resignation that you realize how done you are with trying to constantly read his mind and understand what motivates his decisions.

Because the same way there’s a chance that he really did show up here with good intentions, there’s just as equal a chance that he wants you to trust him again so that he can get his dick wet.

And so, in a move that brings you an immature level of satisfaction, you close the door on his face without another word.

You hear him exclaiming loudly “Y/N, wait!” on the other side of the door but you’ve already made up your mind, deciding that whatever he has to say isn’t worthy of your time or attention.

You’re done with his manipulative behavior, with his aloofness and undeserved self-assuredness, but most of all you’re tired of being made to feel like shit. And that’s all he ever did in those few months that you were sleeping together.

As you retreat to your bedroom, you go to return to packing your things, but the adrenaline from the passing moment makes your hand shake and your body pulse energetically. You need a second to pause and breathe and process what’s just happened, to walk around and pace away all of this unresolved energy.

But then you turn around to go back out into your living room, and that’s when you see Leehan standing right outside the arch of your bedroom doorway.

“Jesus fucking christ, Leehan!” you exclaim in a mixture of both surprise, frustration, and confusion as you wonder whether he broke in or if you—

“You left the door unlocked,” he replies calmly, and even though he knows he has a lot to make up for, he still can’t help the smirk that comes to his face as he jokes, “Kinda 101 not to do that if you don’t want someone coming in. That’s like me leaving the filter of my fish tank —”

“Get out, Leehan. Get out! I have nothing left I want to say to you!” you shout, impatient and uncaring to his jokes and his dimples and everything else about him that used to charm you. It’s all meaningless to you now, and you don’t care if you look crazy or unhinged when you go to physically push him out of your dorm.

But even with the nonchalant, noncommittal way he holds onto your wrist to restrain you, you still only manage to move him a few steps, much to your dismay and rage.

And so, in a heat-of-the-moment, emotionally driven decision, you move to close your bedroom door on his face. While successful in keeping him out of your bedroom, you don’t even realize until seconds later that he’s still free to roam in your hallway, kitchenette, and living room, while you’ve essentially just locked yourself in.

Predictably, you can hear Leehan chuckling outside of your door as he makes this same realization.

“You know, if it was your goal to get me to leave, then I’m not sure locking yourself in your room really…” he begins to say, not able to keep the amusement out of his voice at the foolish mistake on your part. But, remembering the reason why he came here in the first place, he tones it down to say soberly, “Nevermind. It doesn't matter.”

You walk over to the side of your bedroom that’s opposite from the doorway, sitting down on the floor, determined to tune out whatever it is that Leehan is about to say. Maybe if you stay silent and let him tire himself out, he’ll eventually leave knowing that there’s nothing he can say to make up for how he’s made you feel.

“I”m not super good at explaining myself, or talking at all, honestly. I go on tangents and my mind is just…a giant fucking minefield. So I wrote down what I wanted to tell you.”

Leehan’s voice is distorted but nonetheless able to be heard clearly through the thin wood that makes up your door, so much so that you can clearly hear the crumpling noises of a paper being unraveled as he starts to read.

“If you’re listening to me read this, it’s because I somehow managed to convince you to hear me out. Either that, or I broke into your dorm, which feels like the more likely option,” he says with almost no emotion behind the words, and against your own discipline, you can feel your lips twitching into a smirk automatically in reaction to his strange, off putting way of speaking.

“I know my insistence can come off as crass given how shitty of a person I’ve been to you. But I knew that today was move-out day, and I needed you to hear me out before you left.”

You hear him take a deep breath before continuing with the next part of his speech. “As you know, I’m a pretty fearless person. But when it comes to admitting my feelings for you, I’ve had a much harder time. Truthfully, since I met you, it’s been because of my own immaturity that I’ve seen other girls romantically. Even though I always knew my feelings for you were different, I pushed them away in the hopes of avoiding having to commit to anyone. When you told me how you really felt for me, truthfully, it scared me. I didn’t want to know what my life would look like if I decided to be with just one person.

“I thought that by rejecting you, by being away from you for this long, that my feelings for you would go away,” he remarks with the same sort of unfeeling, neutral tone to his voice, as if he knows the explanation behind his actions is unimportant given how they’ve impacted you. “I wanted to view you as just another name on a long list.”

But it’s with his next words that passion and sincerity and longing bleed into his voice all at once to say, “But it’s taken me this time of being away from you to realize that…I’m still not over you.”

After minutes of hanging onto his every word despite every inclination that has been telling you to do otherwise, it’s those last five words that hit you like a freight train.

And you know it’s foolish and dumb to be believing anything that comes out of his mouth anymore, but you suppose it’s no different from all of the other times you continued to let him in even when he showed you so many times why you shouldn’t.

Your reasoning remains the same – you just feel an irrational pull to him that is all-consuming, your heart connected to his in a way you can’t control.

And it doesn’t help that everything he says next is all of the affirmation you’ve been wanting and needing him to give you throughout your entire time of sleeping together. “You deserve someone that’s going to treat you with respect. Someone that makes you feel loved and beautiful and desired. Someone with the courage to be vulnerable and who will care for you in your most vulnerable moments. And I’m sorry if you felt like you didn’t have that with me,” he remarks, and you don’t even realize you’ve been holding your breath throughout his spiel until your chest literally contracts from the lack of air to your lungs.

“But if you can find some way to forgive me, then I want to make us work,” he asserts pleadingly. And with the finality that it feels like follows that statement, you get the feeling that what he says next is no longer being read off the paper.

Especially when you can hear what you think is the top of his head, leaned against the door with a small thunk as he quietly laments, “I want you, Y/N. Not just sexually, but for everything that makes you who you are. It’s always been you. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it.”

It’s quiet after that, so much so that you can hear his small and broken breaths being let out against the wall. You hear what you think is the sound of his hand being brought up to rest next to his head. And as the feeling of being pulled in so many directions takes over you, your heart in a heated battle with your brain, it’s after a few moments of silence that you stand up and walk over towards the door.

Leehan, observing the shadows of your footsteps through the little gap at the bottom of the door, perks up when it’s just a thin barrier of wood that keeps you from being face-to-face with one another.

You prepare yourself to be annoyed when you open the door in expectation that he will be his usual unreadable, unserious self.

But it’s in surprise but also a little relief that what you find when you face him is the expression of a man who’s truly understood the gravity of his mistakes and feels shameful over them.

“You look really pretty,” he blurts out, the suddenness of the remark almost betraying your slowly but surely growing feelings of understanding towards him. But you also can’t help that his random candor makes you laugh, reminded of some of your earlier interactions as he sheepishly says, “Sorry, bad timing.”

Still standing a fair distance away from him, the tip of your toes just barely meeting the tip of his as you look down at them to avoid eye contact, you attempt to ease the tension of the moment with a shy but truthful, “Thank you, Leehan. For the compliment and for the apology.”

You can feel the heat of his gaze as he tilts his head to stare at you, his attention feeling hopeful but not in a way that makes you feel pressured, but in a way that has you compelled to be completely vulnerable and honest with him.

“I’m just…really scared that you’ll hurt me,” you confess somberly, and it still feels strange to even say things like this to him because you’ve spent so much time suppressing your negative emotions when it comes to Leehan. Scared that you’d lose his approval and feeling like you needed such approval to feel good about yourself.

But over time as your relationship progressed and you found yourself little by little regaining the sense of self that your interactions with Leehan robbed you of, you were able to realize that you didn’t deserve to be treated like an afterthought, like an object only useful if it was giving satisfaction to someone else.

And it was in resentment that over these two months of not speaking you felt like Leehan believed that, too.

But now after hearing him explain himself and believing genuinely that he wants to be with you, you now battle with the parts of you that are scared to believe him in fear of getting hurt and the parts of you that so badly also want to be in a relationship with him.

“I’m not scared,” he tells you, the confidence you’ve come to know him for coming out more strongly than ever before. “I’ve got you, remember?”

He then goes to place his two middle fingers underneath your chin, pushing your jaw upward so that you’re forced into eye contact. Staring into his endless and piercing eyes, it’s for the first time that you feel like you understand him in a non-sexual context. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” you mumble quietly in reply.

And it’s as you feel your lips twitching into a content smile that Leehan leans in to kiss you, and you accept the gesture without question.

five months later

“I wanna go half on a baby with you.”

These are the words that Leehan remarks to your sleeping form as you lay comfortably beside him in bed, sleeping but getting roused into attention by the faint sound of his voice.

“A fish baby, of course,” he clarifies, though you don’t even register what he’s saying as you remain half-asleep. “I think the ones in my tank are getting lonely.”

It’s hard to tell sometimes whether Leehan is musing out loud to himself or talking directly to you, but either way, the deep tone of his voice wakes you up just the same.

You lay on your stomach, opening one eye to find him sitting up on his elbow and staring down at you with a curious expression on his face. His hand, resting on your back, draws unintelligible figures on the skin that’s left uncovered by your night shirt.

All in all, it's a pretty domestic, intimate scene, had you not glanced over at your phone to find how early it was.

“Leehan, it’s seven a.m,” you complain to your boyfriend who still just stares dreamily at your sleepy figure. “What are you yapping about?”

Too familiar with your morning grumpiness to be phased by it, it’s with an unmoved expression that Leehan casually replies, “Just about how much I want a baby with you.”

When you hear those words come out of Leehan’s mouth, you’re sure you must still be asleep and that this is just an incredibly vivid dream. Either that, or you’re dating the strangest person in the world.

Given that both realities are entirely plausible, it’s in your tiredness and confusion that you sit up from the bed completely, staring at a relaxed Leehan with raised eyebrows. “Don’t you think we’re a little young for that? I mean eventually, sure, but while we’re in school—”

“I was talking about fish,” he interrupts you to say, chuckling at your confused expression and giggling again when you pout at being laughed at. “But since you’re so eager, why don’t I put a baby in you right now?”

Your own laughter in reaction to his words is suppressed when he presses a large hand on your stomach, pushing you back down on the bed. He leans in to kiss you, but per usual, you refuse to make things easy for him.

Reaching behind your head, you grab a pillow and smack him in the face with it, creating a barrier between your bodies. “You’re such a weirdo,” you playfully quip, a designation he only takes in stride as he goes to throw the pillow somewhere on the floor.

“I’m your weirdo though,” he emphasizes, and it’s as you’re both smiling in satisfaction that he leans in to press his lips against yours.

And as his cold hands roam your warm body, you’re hit with a sudden wave of happiness as you acknowledge how far gone the days of having to wish for him to stay even fir minutes after you’ve had sex truly are.

Because in the past five months since you’ve gotten together exclusively, not only is it routine for him to stay behind, but you also get to wake up together and experience these sleepy, romantic moments.

The moments when he slowly kisses down your body, dragging his plush lips down your sternum until he’s positioned between your legs.

The moments when you pull softly at his hair as he languidly drags his tongue up and down your folds, begging you in his gruff, sleep-affected voice to come all over his face.

The moments when you could be sponning sideways, on top of him, or below him and he’ll still find a way to spread your legs apart, pressing his long, veiny cock inside of you until you’re overwhelmed by how full you are.

The moments where his tiredness renders him impatient and he fucks into you so roughly that you can barely form words.

The moments when he kisses you lazily through every thrust until the sex becomes so good that all you can manage is the occasional swipe of your tongue against his lips or a whimper into his mouth.

The moments when you reach your climax together and he rocks his come in and out of you like he never intends on pulling out.

The moment when you moan out his name, understanding why when you first met he insisted that to know it was a privilege. That to know him is a privilege.

And finally, your favorite, the moments when you either fall back asleep in each other’s hold or get up to shower the sleepiness and sweat off of each other.

Today is one of those days that you relent to getting up and showering, convinced only by the fact that neither of you has a morning class, making it a perfect day to visit the pet shop conveniently located just a few miles from your college town.

“What about this one?”

You turn to face Leehan in the fish tank lined aisle of the pet store, lips curling into a smile as you observe him pressing his face up to the glass in awe. As you come up to his side to view the brown-colored fish that have him so captivated, it’s in a surge of honesty that you reply, “Don’t you think they’re kind of…ugly?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you watch your boyfriend gasps dramatically in reaction to your words, even brushing his hand against the fish tank in a gesture akin to patting someone's head. “They can hear you, you know. I’m so sorry, fishies.”

Ignoring his childishness, you look around at the surrounding fish and sigh as you’re overwhelmed by all the different options. “Honestly, Leehan, you should just pick one. They all look the same to me.”

“But it should be something we both like,” he answers with a pout, circling the aisles a few more times before finally stopping at a tank in the very corner.

Inside of it are an array of multi-colored fish, but the one that stands out to you is an entirely white one with a patch of vibrant red at the top of its head.

It would be indistinguishable from a goldfish had it not been for its striking color and the appendage that looks almost like an inside-out brain on its head.

A label beside the tank reads Oranda.

“What about this one?” asks Leehan in curiosity, and in an almost alarming way, he points out the exact same fish you were just eyeing.

You come around to the other side of the tank to view it from another angle, giggling innocently when you make eye-contact with Leehan through the distorted lens of the water. “It’s pretty,” you remark simply, and because Leehan has come to know you so well, he knows that the simple attribution is a sign of high praise from you.

“Should we make it ours?” he asks you officially, and though you’re certain that this is the fish you’ve been looking for, there’s one question popping up in your brain that you still can’t find the answer to.

“What should we name it?”

You both take a beat to ponder on the question. Leehan chimes in first, blurting out, “I know. Loony.”

At this, you scoff, unsure as to where he would have gotten such an idea from. “Are you trying to say that our child is crazy?” you quip in feigned offense.

“No. It’s short for lunar eclipse. That’s when I knew we were gonna be more than just a one night stand,” he tells you sincerely, and with that context you find yourself becoming quickly attached to both the name and the fish who you take home in a plastic bag only moments later.

You allow Leehan to take the lead in homing Loony, a process that involves lots of complicated jargon about adjusting the water temperature and changing the salinity that you mostly pretend to understand as he explains it to you.

And when you are finally able to sit side by side in front of the tank and watch through the glass as Loony swims among the other fish, it’s with an adoring tone of voice that you hear Leehan say, “It’s pretty, awesome, right?”

At the sound of his voice, you turn to face him, and without being entirely conscious of it, you simply take in his features and how content he looks to be here, with you and with these fishes.

“Yeah,” you reply, laying down and resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s awesome.”

taglist: @lailols @papichulomacy @0310s @softiwoon @gardenforwon @cherrytaesan @mryuyux @saintriots @lonelylandofan @cyber-tiny @keyywrld @isabellah29 @amerecerasus @cadidupped @suhovhs @lionhanie @taesanmoon @revelettre @s9nwoo @brachioswrld @moneygal0re @karatttttt

thank you all sm for your support on this fic <3 your reactions, feedback, and compliments have meant the world

#leehan #boynextdoor #leehan smut #boynextdoor smut #leehan x reader #leehan fluff #leehan angst #boynextdoor fics #hornychristianprincess #donghyun boynextdoor #boy next door smut #donghyun smut #donghyun boy next door smut #kpop smut #kpop angst #kpop fluff

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cinnaleaf · 9 days ago

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In Your DMs: Left on Read - Ch 1: Never Say Never

summary: you left jude on read once—but after one reckless night, he’s making damn sure you never ignore him again 💫 | MDNI 18+

warnings: angst/tension, push/pull dynamic, alcohol consumption, party setting, language, sexual references, public argument, easter eggs from previous fics wc: ~5.9k (approx. 21 minutes) 💋: it’s only chapter 1… pray for them. song inspo: VeLDÁ x Bad Bunny ft Omar Courtz & Dei V

It had been two weeks since you hooked up with Jude in a drunken rendezvous, and while the dick was surprisingly fantastic, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t starting to get the ick. You gave Jude your number after you left his house that afternoon in post-orgasm delusion and he’d been bombarding your phone with texts, voice messages, unscheduled facetime calls, and random tiktoks that “reminded him of you” ever since. He clearly thought your hookup was something more, which made you regret your decision to give him any attention at all. Although pretty privilege had its perks, a world class footballer being obsessed with you was not a perk you wanted to engage in – especially when it was Jude Bellingham.

You sat in the apartment you shared with Bri and Tasha, watching your other friend, Mateo, scroll through his phone while shaking his head. “Miss girl…” he drawled with an amused grin. “They have all of your tea in 4k. All of it.” Mateo handed his phone to you and you nastily glared at the screen, annoyed that you suddenly became a part of whatever the fuck this was:

SpillTheBeansUK Looks like Jude Bellingham had his eye on something other than football two weeks ago 👀. The England star was spotted leaving a Madrid club with 21 year old Y/N, an NYU Tisch film & television student from Miami who’s currently studying abroad and very much a regular in both cities’ party scenes. Her dad is none other than THE ‘Dr. Cinch’, the mastermind behind SculptHaus Miami, the go to clinic for IG baddies and A-listers looking for that perfect CINCHED look 💉 Jude’s no stranger to being deep in a girl’s likes, but he’s been extra consistent with Y/N’s lately. What’s really going on here? Because word is, she’s not exactly the type to be impressed.. especially by ballers like him. 🤨

2Fast4VAR wait she’s from miami?? bro lost before he even started. she’s built different. 😂

CertifiedMenace69 if i was jude i’d be in her dms, comments, and her email too she’s bad af

BigBootyJudeyFC he’s about to start liking those inspirational quotes on IG like “if it’s meant to be, it will be.” 💀

MissMiamiDade305 jude better watch out... does anyone remember when she had that miami promoter crying on IG live last year?? she does NOT play with these men 💀💀

gossipgorlzzz not him liking her pics and finally getting the W! stay persistent kings!!

SpillTheBeansES Si Jude cree que puede cambiarla.. le deseo suerte 🤷‍♀️ (If Jude thinks he can change her.. I wish him luck)

JudePorFavor jude’s probably in her DMs like “pls respond angel 😩” LMAO

Baddiebydesign not dr. cinch’s daughter!! she’s set for life. face card AND her dad’s the plug? i bet her friends never have to pay for fillers 😭

AnonymousInsider13 i heard she’s cool with that real madrid baloncesto guy too…santiago something. ngl that man is fine af. if she’s choosing between him and jude i see why she’s taking her sweet time

RedBlooded1892 maybe her dad can fix jude’s shoulder that’s about to fall off the hinge 😭 cinchdollsnob her dad literally invented half the faces we double tap. a baddie with real face card genetics. life ain’t fair. ChampagnePapiButBroke jude and his big bum liking all her pics is sending me. boy was lurking HARD

ChickenNCoke cinched bellibabe is kind of an iconic alias icl

mamacitasintl lmaooo if jude’s trying to lock her down..good luck. her dad probably has a vetting process more intense than real madrid’s medicals

nosygirlieFC jude defo heard about trent bagging the perfume baddie and thought he could do the same LOL

You were annoyed by the post to an extreme amount. Whoever was the administrator of this god awful account decided to treat you like you were some Z list Love Island reject instead of a girl who got dicked down ONE time in a moment of weakness and dipped.

Bri leaned over to scan the screen and let out a cackle. “ ‘Jude Bellingham had his eye on something other than football two weeks ago!’ ” she mimicked in a dramatized voice.

“Ew.” You scrunched your nose in disgust.

Tasha was deep in the comments on her own phone, scrolling at lightning speed. “No but, ‘She’s not exactly the type to be impressed… especially by ballers like him’ is so shady,” she snorted, flicking her eyes to yours. “The streets know you too well.”

Mateo looked at you with a sly grin, clasping his hands together. “Sooo...how does it feel to be a Bellingham Baddie?”

You cut your eyes at him. “Don’t fucking start.”

“It’s too late.” Bri waved her phone in the air, grinning. “Your inauguration is already underway. These people are in the comments eating it up.”

“Let me see” Mateo snatched Bri’s phone from her and started reading out loud. “ ‘She’s bad as hell, I’d be in her likes too.’ ” He smirked, flipping his wrist. “Real recognizes real.”

Tasha leaned over, giggling. “Wait, this one says ‘Jude’s in his romantic era. He’s playing the long game.’ ”

“Oh hell no. Absolutely not.” You reached for the phone but Mateo dodged you with the speed of a messy gay man who lived for drama.

“Hold on, hold on.” He scrolled further, widening his eyes before he started howling. “Ohhh girl, not this one!” he wheezed, hardly able to get his words out. “ ‘Jude’s big bum came from Dr. Cinch? Noted.’ ”

Bri and Tasha both started laughing with tears streaming down their eyes. “Not Jude having BBL allegations because they found out who your dad is!”

You ran your hands across your face, shaking your head. “I hate this app.”

Mateo was screaming along with the other two, kicking his feet out but you really didn’t find it all that funny. “No, I LOVE this app!”

After their laughter subsided, Tasha shook her head, continuing to scroll through the comments. “The way they dug up your whole life just off one club sighting is actually insane.”

“I know. They need jobs.” You groaned, leaning back against the cushions.

Mateo tilted his head while eyeing you. “Well, since you’re the new bombshell in the Bellingham Baddie villa, you may as well tell me...how was it?”

Bri and Tasha perked up immediately, turning to face you while giggling, mainly because they already knew. You groaned, rolling your eyes as you picked up your own phone. “It was fine.”

“Fine?” Mateo questioned, not fully believing you because you usually gave him the full rundown in detail, but this time you were holding back. “Just fine?! Don’t tell me he’s a minute man. It’s always the hot ones.”

Bri leaned in. “Mmm, I don’t know about that. Tasha and I called and she couldn’t even talk. That man blew her back out for sure.”

“In her words exactly.. it was ‘one hundred percent worth it’ ” Tasha added. “If the dick was bad she would’ve come home the next day and roasted his ass but she didn’t. She was quiet as a mouse.”

Mateo pointed at you accusingly, narrowing his eyes while analyzing you. “And you keep dodging the conversation which means it had to be amazing.”

You rolled your eyes, fake scrolling through your phone like you always did when you couldn’t look someone in the eye. “Well I don’t know about all of that now...he’s doing too much.”

Mateo snickered. “You gave him the best pussy of his life and dipped. Of course he’s doing too much.”

You groaned again, letting your head fall back against the couch. “Can y’all shut the fuck up?”

“Absolutely not.” Mateo fired back immediately, leaning forward to read you for filth. “I know you. If it was mid, you would’ve been dragging him for filth. You’d be in this living room doing a full dissertation on why that man is a waste of height.”

Tasha nodded, scrolling with purpose. “But instead you’re holding back.”

Bri suddenly gasped, pointing a finger at you. “Ooh, she likes him.”

That was where you drew the line. The suggestion that you, of all people, would be catching feelings for a footballer, let alone Jude Bellingham sent you straight into defense mode. It wasn’t even about him specifically, but merely the principle of the matter. You didn’t date athletes. Not seriously anyway. NEVER seriously. You learned a long time ago they were all the same: entitled, egotistical, and so used to women throwing themselves at their feet just because they could handle a ball and had a few viral highlight reels. They saw women as accessories, something to show off when it suited them and discard when it didn’t. You weren’t about to be anyone’s little off-season toy passed around in a group chat the second they got bored. That was never going to be you.

But ballers weren’t completely useless though, they had their perks. Stamina? Unmatched. Strength? Ideal. But once the adrenaline wore off and post-orgasm clarity set in, the appeal disappeared right along with it. You entertained a few before just for fun, just to see if they were worth the hype, but they all had one thing in common: they started thinking they were special. Like they had you hooked. Like they were pulling the strings.

It was funny, really. Because if anything? They were always the ones falling first. Every time.

Jude was proving to be no different. The way he sauntered up to you in the club as if he knew where the night was headed, versus the way his ego deflated the minute you left his messages on read for weeks was textbook athlete behavior. And now? He was chasing you.

Mateo tapped the edge of his phone against his palm, watching you with an expression that made it very clear he was about to ask something that would grate your nerves.

“So what’s really going on with you and Jude?” He tilted his head, brows raised in intrigue. “Like.. what is he to you?”

You didn’t even look up from your phone and scrolled as you answered, “A pronoun.”

Mateo’s mouth dropped open, delighted by your messy answer. “Be so fucking for real Y/N” he said, crossing one leg over the other. “If he’s just a pronoun to you then why did you give him your number?”

Tasha didn’t even give you a chance to answer before jumping in. “That’s actually a great fucking question. Because you knew giving him your number meant this...” she gestured to the entire situation, the group chat chaos, the SpillTheBeansUK mess, “so why did you do it?”

You sighed dramatically, tilting your head back against the couch from being exhausted by all of this nonsense. “He asked for it, so I gave it.”

Bri blinked at you. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Mateo was unconvinced. “And you just gave it to him? No hesitation? No thoughts?”

“I was in a state of post-nut delusion.” You shrugged, sipping from your water bottle to avoid any further questions.

Tasha sucked her teeth. “Mmm.”

Bri was already side-eyeing you. “Mmhmm.”

Mateo tapped his phone again, unimpressed. “Lying just like the mattress he put you through, I see.”

You ignored them. There was a very brief moment where you considered not giving him your number. You could’ve just taken your Uber and dipped, pretended like it never happened, and gone back to your normal, Bellingham-free existence. But Jude gave you a cocky, half lidded smirk that made you fold immediately when he asked. You figured your brain was still stuck somewhere between your legs for wanting to hear from him again, which was exactly why you were so annoyed with yourself. Not only was he blowing up your phone, but now you were on SpillTheBeansUK. You scrolled through the endless posts dissecting your one mistake, making you feel more irritated with every new comment. There were threads analyzing your every move, posts tracking Jude’s IG likes, and an entire debate about whether or not you were “Jude’s type.”

“How do these people have so much free time? Is the unemployment rate that high?” you muttered, aggressively tapping out of Instagram. “I was in the same club as him one time, and suddenly I’m the internet’s main character of the day? I fucking hate it here.”

Bri snickered, nudging Tasha. “Not her being mad when she willingly chose to leave with him.”

You shot the nastiest glare at both of them.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Bri challenged, raising her brow.

She wasn’t wrong. You did willingly leave with him. You hated the attention and the way people were dissecting your life, but you weren’t completely mad at the way Jude was acting. Mainly because he wasn’t just moving on like it never happened and letting you fade into the background. He was still chasing you. And even if you never wanted to admit it.. you liked that.

Your phone pinged in your hand to bring you out of your thoughts, making you glance down at your notifications.

JUDE BELLINGHAM ❌ 🙄 17:43 - Did I do something?? 17:51 - Because I’m struggling to believe I had you screaming my name two weeks ago but now you’re airing me. 18:02 - Hello? 18:27 - Ok I get it. I know you don’t really do this athlete thing. 18:28 - I’m not blocked though 👀 18:42 - Let me take you out?

You rolled your eyes before switching to a different text thread.

SANTI DOMINGUEZ 🏀 🇩🇴 20:42 - Y/Nitaaa que haces esta noche? (what are you doing tonight?) 20:42 - Fiesta en La Finca at mi pana’s house for the night. Big ass infinity pool, drinks, music, todo. Pull up. 20:43 - Bring your friends too. Dime que si. (Tell me yes.)

You smiled, already typing out a response.

20:45 - A party in La Finca? Bet. 20:46 - We’re coming. You better have good drinks!

Santi hearted the message instantly.

20:47 - Siempre, preciosa. Nos vemos. (Always, gorgeous. See you soon.)

You liked Santi. He was one of the few people in Madrid who weren’t constantly on some clout chasing nonsense, which meant you actually enjoyed being around him. And even though he could be a little flirty, it wasn’t serious.

You were just about to lock your phone when another text rolled in.

JUDE BELLINGHAM ❌ 🙄 20:48 - Your dad is a plastic surgeon??

You frowned, watching as a second message came in.

— [SpillTheBeansUK post]

Oh. He really was chronically online.

“Ew,” you muttered from the ick of it all before typing out your own response.

20:48 - why the fuck are you sending me STB links like you’re a gossip girl admin? touch grass.

There was no immediate response but you knew he probably read it the second the notification popped up on his phone. He was probably typing, stopping, then typing again, trying to figure out how to keep you engaged without pushing too far. It was funny really, the difference between the two of them. Santi would text once, maybe twice most of the time and you would reply immediately with no hesitation. Meanwhile, Jude would send text after text, throw in tiktoks, voice messages and a Facetime call here and there, which made you want to take your sweet time responding.

You could already feel the looks your friends were giving you, but Mateo was the first to speak.

“So you answer Santiago immediately but Jude has to beg for a response?” He smirked, already piecing together what would likely go down tonight at the party. Tasha hummed in agreement and glanced over your shoulder at your phone. “She doesn’t even respond to us that fast but Santi texts and suddenly her fingers work?”

You locked your phone and flipped it over on the table so they wouldn’t see any other message notifications from Jude or Santi. “It’s not that deep.”

“It is that deep,” the three of them spoke in unison.

Tasha pointed at your phone and then crossed her arms. “Explain.”

You stretched your arms over your head, already starting to prepare your exit strategy. “I don’t have to explain anything.”

“Oh, but you do,” Bri countered, shifting to face you. “Because you clearly like the attention from both of them.”

You let out a sharp exhale and grabbed your phone, making your way to your bedroom. “I have to get ready for the party and I suggest y’all do the same if you’re coming.”

You dropped your phone onto the bed and stood in front of your wardrobe, biting your lip while you scanned through your options. La Finca pool parties weren’t the same as your club nights. The vibe was more laid back but the guest list was usually stacked with the most beautiful people you’d ever seen, so naturally you had to one up them and show them how a Miami girl stepped out. Just as you were grabbing a cropped halter top from the hanger, your phone vibrated against your comforter and you snatched it up immediately.

JUDE BELLINGHAM ❌ 🙄 20:58 - Touch grass with me. What’s the move tonight?

You debated telling him about the party, but you decided against it and threw your phone back on the bed with a scoff to finish getting ready. Although he was giving you the ick, something about the way he chased you fed a very specific, very vain part of you and you would be lying if you didn’t admit you weren’t the least bit curious in how far Jude was willing to take it.

Somewhere outside of your room, you could hear Bri and Tasha moving around, digging through wardrobe drawers and arguing over what top to wear. Mateo’s voice floated down the hall, loudly reminding everyone that if they didn’t hurry up, he was leaving without all of you.

An hour later, the four of you piled into a car with the windows down as the city lights of Madrid blurred past. The further you drove into La Finca, the bigger the homes became. When you finally pulled up to the house, you could hear a mix of reggaeton, afrobeats and spanish trap music playing through the air. The garden surrounding the property was already full of people with drinks in hand as they laughed and swayed to the music.

You made your way to the pool area, smelling the mixed scent of tangy smoke from hookah and rum. You adjusted your top, feeling the backless cut brush your skin in the breezy, but warm night time air as you walked on the stone pathway. Your matching mini skirt hugged your hips just right and dipped low enough to show the string of your bikini bottoms underneath. Your small entourage followed behind you, already plotting the kind of chaos they could get into tonight.

Mateo adjusted the collar of his shirt, scoping out the scene. “I’m manifesting a man with a villa tonight. Just watch.”

“Manifest being the bartender while you’re at it” Tasha muttered, eyeing the outdoor bar where bottles of Ron Barcelo, Brugal, and Larios gin were already in rotation. Someone had cracked open a case of Estrella Galicia beers, and a group near the pool was passing around cups of Kalimotxo, the unofficial drink of every wild night in Spain.

“Vamonos mamis!” Santi yelled from somewhere near the pool.

His height alone made him impossible to miss. He was a towering 6’5”, had broad shoulders with a trim waist, perfectly white teeth, dimples, deep sun kissed skin, and a freshly trimmed fade that made you tilt your head slightly to take a better look. He had that natural Dominican aura that made it impossible to tell whether he was flirting or just being nice.

“Oh, you’re outside, outside tonight!” he teased, sliding his arm around your waist for a quick hug. He glanced behind you and smiled at Bri, Tasha and Mateo. “Good to see you all. Drinks are in the kitchen. Hookah’s by the pool.”

“And you’re where?” Bri asked, arching a brow while biting the nail of her finger flirtatiously.

“Everywhere.” Santi winked, then tilted his head back toward the pool. “Come find me if you need anything.” He disappeared back into the crowd before any of you had time to respond, leaving the scent of his cologne lingering between all of you.

“Oooh he’s wearing Rêveur.” Tasha nodded in approval, taking a second glance back to get another look at him. “That man has taste.”

“But why is he so fineee?” Bri muttered under her breath.

Mateo snickered. “Because God had time when he made Dominican men that’s why.”

You hated gassing men up too much, so you gave them a blank stare, eventually walking away to make your way toward the drinks as Bad Bunny’s “VeLDÁ” played through the sound system. They followed behind and Mateo took on his duty as bartender, rummaging through bottles of Havana Club and Brugal Añejo.

“Shots or mixed drinks?” Mateo asked, double fisting bottles in his hands.

“Mixed” you answered immediately.

“Shots” Bri and Tasha dueted.

“Majority rules, sorry Y/N” Mateo mused as he reached for the shot glasses.

On the other side of the yard, Jude leaned back in an outdoor lounge chair, resting his arms lazily while his drink sat half empty on the table in front of him. He wasn’t drunk, but the warmth of Madrid, the drinks, and the atmosphere had him leaning into the mood.

“That’s her?” Cama tilted his head toward the cluster of people near the pool, smiling with curiosity.

Jude didn’t answer at first and stared at the condensation on his glass before moving his eyes back to you. He clocked you as soon as you stepped on the stone pathway, he couldn’t have missed you even if he tried. The backless halter top with the matching mini skirt, coupled with the sheen of your Dior lip oil catching in the light every time you tilted your head back to laugh, had his head spinning. Even from a distance, he could see the faint tan lines peeking from under the straps of your bikini strings underneath your outfit.

“Damn..” Kylian whistled beside him, leaning forward to take a closer look at Bri and Tasha. “Who are the girls next to her though?”

Jude glanced sideways, trying to suppress a smirk. “Focus mate.”

“I am focused,” Kylian replied with a laugh, still scanning the scene.

Cama chuckled and nudged Jude’s arm. “She looks good, bro. You bringing her home tonight or what?”

Jude tilted his head, taking another slow sip of his drink. “We’ll see. She likes to play hard to get.”

“Does she know you’re here?” Kylian asked as if he cared, when he was actually plotting on Bri and Tasha.

“Nah.”

The truth sat heavy on his chest. He hadn’t expected to run into you tonight, but then again, Madrid was a small world when it came to hanging around certain circles. It was bound to happen eventually. But seeing you laughing with your friends did something to him that he wasn’t ready to unpack.

“You should go over there” Cama suggested, nudging Jude’s arm.

“Not yet.” Jude replied, following the curve of your bare shoulders as you tipped your head back to down a shot with your friends. The twist of your face from the burn of the alcohol, along with the parting of your lips made it too easy to remember the way those same lips felt against him just two weeks ago.

—

The shot you had just taken settled warmly in your stomach while the bass from the music grew heavier. The music was loud, the air filled with scents of alcohol, sweat, and smoke but none of it could shake the buzz in your head from spotting Jude in the party crowd.

Of all the parties in Madrid, he had to be at this one.

You clutched your glass tighter, trying to resist the urge to look back at the lounge chairs near the pool. Bri crossed her arms and smirked, darting her eyes between you and Jude. “So you’re just gonna ignore him all night?”

“Ignore who?” you replied flatly, knowing damn well who she was talking about.

“Oh girl. Pack it up.” Tasha chimed in from your other side while swaying to the beat of the music. “You know exactly who.”

“No. I don’t.” you muttered, wiping off the condensation wetness from your fingertips.

“Then why are you gripping the glass like that?” Bri teased, bumping your hip with hers.

You ignored her and instead scanned the crowd for any sign of Santi. You spotted him leaning against a pillar with a bottle of beer in hand, laughing at something one of his teammates said. His crisp white shirt clung to his torso, making you gawk just a little. When he caught your gaze, he lifted his beer and gave you a blinding smile.

Tasha clocked it immediately and raised her eyebrows. “Well.. looks like you have options tonight. Bellingham or Dominguez?”

You sighed heavily, ignoring her again and headed to the pool to dip your feet in. The infinity pool stretched out in front of you as you swung your legs back and forth in the water. You should’ve felt relaxed, or maybe even carefree and tipsy, but instead you were on edge.

On the other side of things, now that you were closer, Jude watched you from the rim of his glass as he took long, slow sips. Kylian and Cama were talking next to him but their words turned into background noise while he observed the way you leaned back with your hands pressed against the pool deck stone.

“She’s going to notice you staring eventually” Kylian leaned in, sensing Jude still had you on his mind.

Jude tilted his head back to finish his drink. The thought of you being so close yet so far away made the alcohol sit heavier in his stomach. You hadn’t really been giving him much of a thought since you hooked up and that bothered him. It made him want you even more. He internally debated with himself, wondering if he should just leave you alone or speak up now that he had an opening that you absolutely couldn’t leave on read. Just as he was about to stand, Cama clapped him on the shoulder with a wide grin. “Go talk to her bro. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She could throw her drink in his face..” Kylian added helpfully.

Jude snorted. “Nah. I don’t think she’s like that.”

He really didn’t know you as well as he thought he did, you were definitely ‘like that’ if the need arose.

Jude stood up with enough adrenaline and liquid courage to walk the short path to the pool’s edge where you sat. You felt his towering presence immediately as he stood with his hands tucked into his pockets, glancing toward you swishing your feet in the water.

“You ignoring my texts now?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, surprised that he had the gall to start the conversation off that way. “You’re not serious.”

A gleam of moonlight caught on his lips when he shifted closer to you with a lazy smirk plastered over his face. “I get it. You’re a busy girl. But you could’ve at least told me you would be here tonight.”

“For what? Why would I tell you?” you countered, looking up at him in annoyance. “I don’t even know you like that.” The nerve of this boy to think he deserved to know any of your moves when he wasn’t your man, or anything remotely close to it.

“You know me well enough to let me fuck..”

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “Excuse me?”

Jude tilted his head, still with a dumb smirk on his face that made you want to slap it clean off his face. His hands were still tucked in his pockets casually, like he wasn’t standing there stirring the most out of you.

“I’m just saying..” he lazily shrugged, as if that would smooth over the conversation.

“Oh, ‘you’re just saying’ ” you mocked, standing up to meet his eye, though you still ended up having to look up because he was so tall. The edge of your skirt brushed against his thigh and you were close enough to see the sheen of sweat on his thick hairline from the warm night air. Up close, Jude was hard to ignore. He got under your skin in the right way to make you give him your full attention.

Just the way he liked it.

“And this is coming from the same man blowing up my phone like I owe him something.”

Jude chuckled under his breath, his eyes moving briefly to your outfit before locking back onto your eyes. “I wouldn’t have to blow your phone up if you just responded the first time, angel.”

Angel.

That word hit you straight in your core. It was impossible not to hear his voice from that night echoing in your head.

“That’s it, angel. Keep fucking me back.”

You took a deep inhale through your nose, clenching your fists on your sides as heat flared through your chest from frustration and other things you weren’t ready to name.

“Don’t call me that” you snapped, but the hitch in your breath told a different story. A story that said you liked it, and Jude noticed. His eyes lowered to your lips briefly, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward like he knew exactly where your mind went.

“Ohhh, so you do remember” he mused, clearly enjoying himself.

“Jude, I swear-” You shoved his shoulder but he barely moved in the slightest bit. He stood his ground, leaning into your ear to speak low enough so only you could hear. “Don’t start. Unless you’re trying to start something you know I can finish for you.”

“You’re so fucking full of yourself, you know that?”

The warmth from the alcohol running through your veins made your voice louder than you intended, making you become acutely aware of the heads starting to turn your way. In between your conversation with Jude, Tasha and Bri made their way over to sit with Kylian and Cama near the lounge chairs. Bri was sitting on Kylian’s lap with her arms draped over his neck like they knew each other way longer than what had to have been no longer than 15 minutes. All four of them were watching the scene unfold with varying degrees of amusement.

“Okay, fuck this” you muttered under your breath, feeling the embarrassment creep in. Eyes on you and whispers spreading throughout the crowd was the exact type of thing you wanted to avoid. Your mind flashed to the SpillTheBeans post and the comments dissecting your entire life, snapping you right back to the cruel reality of being a newly added ‘Bellingham Baddie’, as your friends called it.

“This is exactly why I don’t fucking date athletes” you jabbed a finger at Jude’s chest for emphasis.

“Who said anything about dating?”

You laughed in disbelief and threw your hands up. The tipsiness loosened your filter in all the wrong ways. “You know what? I’m so sick of-”

“Todo bien?” (Everything okay?)

The sound of Santi’s voice made you freeze mid sentence. You turned around just enough to see him approaching with an unbothered walk, beer still in hand like he wasn’t about to walk straight into chaos. His eyes moved between you and Jude, reading the situation.

“We’re good.” you answered, holding up your hand toward Santi as if that would somehow deescalate whatever was about to go down.

“Didn’t look like it,” Santi eyed Jude in a way that was more curious than confrontational, but Jude wasn’t having it, being the crashout that he was.

“You her bodyguard or something?” Jude shot, tilting his chin as he stepped fully into Santi’s space. Santi’s smile didn’t budge but his posture shifted subtly enough to raise the tension up a couple notches. “Nah. I’m just looking out for a friend” he replied coolly, not breaking eye contact.

“Yeah? Well, she doesn’t need you to–”

“BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!” you yelled loud enough to cut through the music and all the other conversations happening around the pool. Heads turned with the rise of your voice and half of the party had their eyes locked on the three of you, but you were too far gone, and too far drunk to care.

“I am so tired of you men acting like I’m some prize you get to win!” You jabbed a finger between both of them in frustration. “I don’t fucking belong to either of you! And you..” You turned to Jude with fire in your eyes. “Stop acting like I owe you something just because I let you fuck me ONE time!”

Jude’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“And you..” You whipped back to Santi, who at least had the decency to look slightly guilty. “Don’t walk up here like you’re about to save me! I don’t fucking need saving!”

The silence was deafening after the read you gave them, broken only by the distant sound of water pushing against the pool edge and gossiping chatter from the crowd.

Finally, Jude ran a hand over his curls, exhaling hard through his nose. “You done?”

“Yes, I’m done! I’m never fucking you again so get it out of your thick skulled head!” you snapped and stormed off toward the house without looking back.

Back at the lounge chairs, Kylian and Cama exchanged looks while Bri and Tasha creased in laughter.

“I don’t know whether to be scared or impressed..” Kylian shook his head in amusement.

“Definitely impressed,” Cama replied with a grin.

You stormed off down the path leading toward the house, weaving through random groups of partiers who definitely caught at least half of the argument. The adrenaline and frustration swirling around in your head had you on ten.

“Who the fuck does he think he is?” you spoke to yourself, enraged. “I fucking hate ballers. Worms for brains ass motherfuckers.”

The nerve and audacity of that man to approach you like he was owed something more than the one night you already gave him pissed you off. Your chest was filled with a fury of emotions you really didn’t want to unpack, especially not in the middle of a party where half of the crowd had probably pulled out their phones to message their group chats about what they just witnessed. As soon as you reached the back door of the house, Mateo appeared beside you out of nowhere, moving swiftly to match your quick pace.

“Girl.. what was all of that?” he asked, eyes wide with equal parts concern and curiosity.

“Nothing.” you muttered with clenched teeth, but Mateo wasn’t having it.

“Nothing? That was prime telenovela content and I need details immediately. Why did-”

“I’m never fucking Jude again,” you snapped, cutting him off before he had a chance to launch his full analysis. It sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than anyone else. Mateo knew Jude having you this bothered by his presence meant you’d be rethinking that exact statement in approximately three to five business days. He’d seen it all before, so instead of pushing any further, he took one sip of his drink and gave a knowing look between you, Santiago, and Jude.

“Mmm… never say never.”

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