#there's something wrong with my blind date

[writeriguess]

Hey hun! Welcome back 😘

So, i have a kind of slow burn idea for a Bakugo x fem!reader fic. They both like each other and when she tries to ask him out or talk to him about it, he's kind of an ass 😅

He thinks she'll be in the way or a distraction to his goal, so he pushes her away. He can't get her out of his head though and their friends tell him he's being an idiot. Eventually, he cracks and tells her (in his very 'katsuki' way) that he does want to be with her.

Angst ending with lots of fluff, confessions, and a kiss please!

author's note: Thank you so much! <3 I just wanted to say that your idea was incredible, and I had such a great time writing it. It turned out to be much longer than I expected, but it was definitely worth it!

Heart of Dynamite

It started with stolen glances. You weren’t sure when you first noticed, but something about the way Bakugo Katsuki acted around you was different. He wasn’t nice, not by any stretch of the imagination, but there was something else buried beneath the rough edges and sharp remarks. A fleeting glance when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he always seemed to hover nearby during group exercises, subtly ensuring you didn’t get caught off guard.

You weren’t blind. You saw the way his crimson eyes would flick to you during lunch, only for him to look away just as quickly if you caught him. You noticed how his explosions during sparring would seem almost… controlled when directed your way—less destructive, more calculated. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you wonder. Enough to make you hope.

The problem was, Bakugo being Bakugo, he’d never admit to something as human as feelings. If he did like you, he was keeping it buried under a mountain of anger, pride, and whatever complicated emotions made up Katsuki Bakugo.

But still, the moments added up. And with each passing day, your crush grew stronger. You hated the way your heart fluttered when he called you by name instead of his usual nicknames for everyone else. You hated how you’d secretly look forward to his biting remarks because, in some twisted way, it was his version of paying attention to you.

And most of all, you hated how much courage it took to even consider confessing to him.

After weeks of agonizing over it, you finally decided you couldn’t live with the "what if." No matter what, you needed to know.

The opportunity came on a rare quiet evening at the dorms. Everyone else had gone out for karaoke, leaving you and Bakugo alone. He was sprawled on the couch in the common area, his arms crossed, staring at some mindless action movie playing on the TV.

You hovered at the doorway, your heart racing. You almost turned back, but then his gruff voice interrupted your thoughts.

"What the hell are you standing there for? You look like a damn idiot."

You flinched, but quickly steeled yourself. "I just… needed to ask you something."

His gaze flicked to you, crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "Then spit it out already. Don’t waste my time."

Your hands were clammy as you stepped closer, each word feeling heavier than the last. "Do you… want to go out with me? Like, on a date?"

For a moment, Bakugo just stared at you. His usual scowl didn’t shift, but you could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes—so quick you almost missed it. His jaw tensed, his hands clenching into fists on his lap.

Then, he scoffed. Loudly.

"You serious?" he said, leaning back against the couch like your question was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. "Why the hell would I want to go out with you?"

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your throat tightened, and your chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

"I mean, come on," he continued, his tone sharp and cutting. "What makes you think I’d waste my time on something dumb like that?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, but not from embarrassment—from the sting of his rejection. You struggled to keep your voice steady. "I just thought… maybe—"

"Well, you thought wrong," he cut you off, his voice cold and unrelenting. "So stop acting like some lovesick idiot and get over it."

The silence that followed was unbearable. You felt like the floor had been ripped out from under you, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff with no way to step back.

"Got it," you said finally, your voice small and strained. You turned on your heel before he could see the tears pooling in your eyes.

Bakugo didn’t move. He stayed on the couch, staring at the TV that he wasn’t really watching. His nails dug into his palms, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath, though he wasn’t sure if he was talking about you—or himself.

Hours passed, but Bakugo didn’t leave the couch. He replayed the scene over and over in his mind: the look on your face, the way your voice had cracked when he tore you down.

He hated himself for it. Hated the way he’d lashed out, even though he knew it was because he was terrified. Of what? He didn’t know. Maybe of admitting to himself that he cared. Maybe of the fact that you could make him feel so out of control with just one stupid question.

But now it was too late. He’d pushed you away.

You, on the other hand, locked yourself in your room, curled up on your bed, and let the tears flow. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid, so naive. Of course Bakugo didn’t like you. Of course he didn’t care. You’d just been projecting your feelings onto him, imagining things that weren’t really there.

Still, the hurt lingered. You tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter, that you’d move on, but the ache in your chest said otherwise.

Little did you know, Bakugo was sitting downstairs, fists clenched, consumed by his own turmoil. Because for all his bluster, he’d never wanted to hurt you. He just didn’t know how to deal with the truth: that he did like you, more than he was willing to admit.

Bakugo tried to convince himself that what he’d said to you was necessary. He had goals—real, tangible goals—and nothing, no one, was going to distract him. Becoming the Number One Hero wasn’t just a dream for him; it was a mission, an obligation, a destiny he was determined to carve out with his own blood, sweat, and tears. He didn’t need complications. He didn’t need feelings. He didn’t need you. That’s what he told himself over and over as he sat alone in his dorm room, glaring at the wall like it had personally offended him. His fists were clenched tightly in his lap, the tendons in his hands straining from the pressure.

But no matter how hard he tried to justify it, he couldn’t shake the image of your face from his mind. The way your expression had crumbled when he snapped at you, the hurt in your eyes as you turned and walked away—it all replayed in his head on an endless, agonizing loop. He could still hear your voice trembling when you’d asked him out, soft and vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to hearing from you. You weren’t the kind of person who let your guard down easily, and he’d taken that rare moment of courage and crushed it underfoot.

“Tch,” he growled under his breath, running a hand through his hair and gripping the strands in frustration. “Stupid.”

He thought that pushing you away would make things easier, but it didn’t. If anything, it made everything worse. You were everywhere. Every time he walked into a room, his eyes automatically searched for you, even when he told himself they wouldn’t. When you laughed with your friends, the sound sent an irritating warmth through his chest, only to be followed by a sharp pang of regret when he remembered the look on your face that night. During training, he found himself tracking your every move without even meaning to, his instincts on high alert every time you dodged an attack or threw a punch. He hated it. Hated how you’d wormed your way into his head and refused to leave. Hated how much he wanted to be near you, even after he’d made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with you.

It didn’t help that everyone else seemed to notice his turmoil. His friends had started giving him strange looks during meals, their eyes darting between him and you as if they were waiting for something to happen. Kirishima, in particular, had been annoyingly persistent, watching him with that infuriatingly knowing expression he always wore when he thought Bakugo was being an idiot. Bakugo did his best to ignore it, but the tension was impossible to escape.

One evening, when the others were hanging out in the common area, Kirishima finally confronted him. Bakugo had been sitting on the couch, staring at his phone without really looking at it, when Kirishima plopped down beside him with a heavy sigh. Mina and Kaminari weren’t far behind, hovering nearby like vultures waiting for a meal.

“Alright, spill it,” Kirishima said, his voice casual but firm. Bakugo barely spared him a glance.

“Spill what?” he snapped, his tone as sharp as ever.

“Don’t play dumb,” Mina chimed in, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at him. “You’ve been acting weird for days, and we all know why.”

“I’m not in the mood for this crap,” Bakugo growled, standing up to leave, but Kirishima quickly stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Bakugo glared at him, his crimson eyes blazing. “Move.”

“Not until you admit what’s going on,” Kirishima said, his voice steady despite the obvious tension in the air. “You pushed her away, didn’t you?”

Bakugo froze, his scowl deepening. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Kirishima said, his tone unusually serious. “Come on, man. It’s so obvious you like her. Everyone can see it.”

“I don’t—”

“Save it,” Mina interrupted, stepping closer with a look that could cut through steel. “We’ve seen the way you look at her. And don’t even get me started on the way you lose your mind whenever she partners up with someone else during training. You care about her, and instead of doing something about it, you’re being a total dumbass.”

Bakugo’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “I don’t have time for this crap,” he muttered, shoving past Kirishima and heading for the door. But before he could leave, Kirishima’s voice rang out behind him, stopping him in his tracks.

“You think pushing her away will make you stronger,” Kirishima said, his voice softer now, almost sad. “But all you’re doing is proving how scared you are.”

Bakugo’s shoulders tensed, his hand gripping the doorknob so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“You’re scared because you like her so much it freaks you out,” Kirishima continued, his tone unwavering. “But running from it won’t make it go away.”

For a moment, Bakugo didn’t move. The room was silent, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Finally, he yanked the door open and walked out, slamming it shut behind him without another word.

That night, Bakugo lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling with an intensity that could have set it on fire. Kirishima’s words echoed in his head, mingling with the memory of your voice and the image of your face. He hated how much it all got to him, how much he couldn’t stop thinking about you no matter how hard he tried. He hated the way his chest ached every time he thought about the hurt in your eyes and the way you’d walked away from him, your shoulders slumped in defeat. But most of all, he hated how much he wanted to see you again, to fix things, to say something—anything—that could make up for what he’d done.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to move on. You’d been avoiding Bakugo as much as possible, throwing yourself into training and schoolwork to keep your mind occupied. It wasn’t easy, though. Every time you saw him, whether it was in class or during meals, you felt a sharp pang of hurt that refused to go away. You hated how much he still affected you, even after he’d made it painfully clear that he didn’t feel the same way.

But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that it didn’t matter, that you’d be fine without him, the ache in your chest lingered. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d been wrong to hope, if you’d been foolish to believe that he might have cared about you even a little.

Little did you know, Bakugo was sitting in his room, wrestling with his own feelings and cursing himself for the way he’d handled things. Because for all his bravado and pride, the truth was unavoidable: he couldn’t stop thinking about you. And the more he tried to push you out of his mind, the more you consumed his every thought.

The days following your rejection from Bakugo had been a haze of hurt and confusion. You tried to keep yourself busy—extra training, study sessions, anything to keep your mind from replaying the harsh way he’d dismissed you. But no matter how much you told yourself to let it go, it lingered. You still felt the sting of his words, the way he’d looked at you like you were an obstacle instead of someone he cared about. That wound didn’t heal easily.

You avoided him as much as you could. You’d shift to a different group during training, sit at the far end of the cafeteria during meals, and leave the common area whenever he showed up. It wasn’t as subtle as you hoped; your friends noticed, and you were pretty sure Bakugo did too. Still, you couldn’t face him—not after everything he’d said.

What you didn’t know was that your absence weighed on him far more than he let on.

Bakugo was not a man who easily admitted to mistakes. Pride had been ingrained in him from an early age, and he carried it like armor. But lately, that armor felt suffocating, like it was pressing in on him from all sides. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t stop replaying the hurt in your eyes when he’d lashed out. Every time he saw you purposely turning away from him or laughing with someone else, he felt a sharp pang of regret that he didn’t know how to fix.

Kirishima’s words lingered too. “You’re scared because you like her so much it freaks you out. But running from it won’t make it go away.” As much as Bakugo wanted to punch him for saying it, he knew it was true. He’d been running from his feelings because they terrified him. You terrified him—not because you were weak, but because of how much power you had over him without even realizing it. And that was what scared him most of all.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. Watching you avoid him, knowing he’d been the one to hurt you—it was eating him alive. If he didn’t do something soon, he was going to explode.

That’s what led him here, standing awkwardly a few feet away from where you sat on the bench outside. You hadn’t noticed him yet, too focused on the notebook in your lap. For a moment, he hesitated, his chest tightening with something unfamiliar. Was this… nerves? He growled under his breath, frustrated with himself. He was Bakugo Katsuki, for crying out loud. He didn’t get nervous.

“Oi.” His voice came out rougher than he intended, and you jumped slightly, startled by his sudden presence.

You looked up, your eyes widening for a split second before your expression hardened. “What do you want?”

Bakugo flinched at the coldness in your tone, though he tried to hide it. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” you asked, already sounding exasperated. “If this is about training or some stupid lecture—”

“It’s not about training,” he cut in, stepping closer. His jaw tightened as he tried to find the right words. He wasn’t good at this, but he had to try. “It’s about what I said to you before.”

Your eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into your expression. “Why are you bringing that up now? You already made your feelings perfectly clear, Bakugo. I don’t need to hear it again.”

He winced at the way you said his name—so formal, so distant. You used to call him Katsuki, back when things were simpler. Back when he hadn’t ruined everything.

“Just shut up and listen for a second, will you?” he snapped, though there was no real heat in his voice. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I… I screwed up, alright? I said some shit I didn’t mean, and I hurt you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Your expression softened slightly, but your arms remained crossed, a barrier he knew he’d have to break through. “Then why did you do it? Why push me away if you didn’t mean it?”

“Because I’m a goddamn idiot,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. His gaze dropped to the ground, his fists clenched at his sides. “I thought… I thought if I let myself like you, I’d lose focus. That you’d get in the way of my goals.”

“And now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Now I know that’s total bullshit,” he said, finally looking up to meet your eyes. “You don’t make me weaker. You make me want to be better. And no matter how much I tried to ignore it, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re in my head all the damn time, and it’s driving me insane.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, but you still hesitated. “You really hurt me, Katsuki,” you said softly, the pain evident in your voice. “I don’t know if I can just forget that.”

He stepped closer, his gaze intense and unwavering. “I’m not asking you to forget it. I’m asking for a chance to fix it. I was a dumbass, and I don’t deserve it, but… I want to try. With you.”

The vulnerability in his voice was so raw, so uncharacteristic, that it left you speechless. You searched his face for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was regret and determination.

“Katsuki…” you began, your voice trembling slightly.

“Look, I know I’m not good at this,” he interrupted, his hands twitching at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “I’m not some smooth-talking idiot like Kaminari, and I’m probably gonna screw up a hundred more times. But I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’m not gonna hurt you again.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his words sank in. This was Bakugo Katsuki—the same boy who never admitted when he was wrong, who bulldozed his way through life without looking back. And here he was, laying his pride at your feet, just for a chance to make things right.

“You’re really bad at this, you know,” you said finally, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

He huffed, his cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, well, it’s not exactly my strong suit.”

You laughed softly, the sound making his chest tighten in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. For the first time in weeks, you felt the tension between you start to dissolve.

“So, what now?” you asked, taking a tentative step closer.

“Now I do this,” he said, his voice low as he reached out to cup your face in his hands. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he leaned in. His crimson eyes searched yours for a moment, and when you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance and kissed you.

The kiss was tentative at first, almost shy, but it quickly deepened as you responded, your hands reaching up to grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer. He kissed you like he was trying to make up for every moment he’d wasted, pouring all the unspoken feelings he couldn’t put into words into that one act.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads resting together, you were both breathless. He smirked, his usual cocky confidence creeping back in. “Told you I’d make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “You’ve got a long way to go, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed the gruffness of his tone. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around and prove it.”

And for the first time in weeks, everything felt right.

Feel free to request <3

[lilium-snow]

Today On Lili Can't Draw Hands...

It's okay, guys. It's not blood, it's ... ... ... so anyway!

Featuring Lu Ren, the villain and freaky little date option from c2phos' upcoming horror dating sim There's Something Wrong With My Blind Date.

[lookingviewer]

✨Hugs with Puppy✨

I drew this on October 11, but... I thought, why not? On Itch on the game page in the comments, there is also this GIF🦊✨

Hehehe, I usually draw a tail to show my joy or affection for the character :3

Well, I liked him, heeeee... It's sad, I can't find out how tall he is, although he reminds me of Henry and Vary.

Henry from The Music Freaks

Vary from 13 Card/Land of Kings

Hehehehe

Ahem

[alemonyoyo]

I don't think my account is nearly popular enough to reach that many people, but I am super curious as someone who has played a lot of VN's. What is the overall preference with MCs?

If you see this PLEASE answer I like HAVE to know haha!

I'm tagging a couple of VN/Dating Sim-esque fandoms for the sake of reach, though I DO post about these fandoms too...

[tklpilled]

horror dating sim needs to be a more popular gente

[sirenemale]

SCARED BEING A DRAG MONSTER WILL FIX YOU?! YOU SHOULD BE

[itsamenickname]

Also, just a little heads up for y'all: I will most likely not be very active on Tumblr today due to wanting to avoid any potential spoilers for the Mario movie before I see it later tonight.

[joelscurls]

best kept secret

pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 6.7k

summary: In an attempt to keep your relationship secret, Joel agrees to a blind date set up by his best friend / your father. You don't take it well.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, pre-outbreak, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is 36), secret relationship, angst, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, semi-public sex, car sex, creampie, some fluff; lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared. but we're back, baby! anyway, dbf!joel owns my ass, so here's my rendition of him. as always, ty to my baby @javisashtray for reading this over for me and helping me through the creative process <3

Joel’s bedroom window offers a perfect view of the sunrise; of shy, pink light creeping over treetops and the roof of your dad’s house across the street.

It’s gorgeous — breathtaking, even — maybe because you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve actually seen the crest of morning. You’re far more privy to late nights and sleeping in as long as you can push it,  never been one to be up with the lark, so to speak.

You don’t mind the early wakeup call, though, not when it’s this: Joel’s head tucked between your thighs, his tongue rolling lazily over your clit, your eyes still adjusting to the light as he spreads you open for him.

He’s humming against you, his coarse beard tickling soft skin, thumbs dug into muscle to hold you in place as your back bows reflexively off the mattress. He looks so sweet like this, so eager to please, staring up at you with blown pupils.

“C’mon baby,” he purrs. “Just gimme one before you go.”

They’re the first words he’s said all morning, the first thought that’s necessitated utterance. His voice is hoarse and deep and drips honey-sweet at your core. 

Even so, despite how badly you want to — because you always want Joel’s mouth on you — you’re not sure you can. 

Because you need to get home before Denise next door leaves for her early shift. Before Susan a few houses down takes her dog out for a walk.

Before the neighborhood wakes and somebody sees you leaving Joel Miller’s house. Or worse, before your dad catches you slipping into the house in yesterday’s clothes, your car in the driveway still cold.

But with another experimental flick of Joel’s tongue, you forget all that, a content little sigh slipping past your parted lips, betraying you.

Just one, you tell yourself, and then you’ll head out.

“Fuck, okay — yeah,” you breathe, twisting your fingers into the roots of his curls.

With your permission, he buries his nose in your mound. Licks at you again — with more purpose, this time. One long, drawn out lap followed by another.  

He’s so gentle with you, so careful, caressing your folds with his tongue like they’re made of paper. It’s a dizzying juxtaposition to the way he laid you down last night and fucked you, teeth scraping your neck and cock bruising your cervix.

You’re still sore, your walls tender where he stretched them, but your pussy is drooling nonetheless, surely making a mess of the bedsheets underneath you.

Because you’re insatiable when it comes to Joel. 

For the past few weeks, since the first time you’d found yourself in his bed, you’ve craved him. Regardless of how sated he’s left you each and every time, you’ve needed more. 

It’s dangerous and stupid and undeniably wrong, having a fling with your dad’s best-friend. But you’re finding it difficult to consider the morality of it all when just his tongue makes you come harder than any other man’s cock ever has. 

That tongue, now dipping into your apex, drawing more slick out of you as his thumb finds your swollen clit — It’s overwhelming how good it feels, how good he is at this.

He’s bringing you to the edge languidly, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your silky flesh. It’s like he doesn’t want this to be over, needs to stretch the moment as far as it’ll go, milk every last second before you slip from his grasp.

But it’s going to end soon; it’s inevitable with the way he’s laving your pussy, the crushed velvet of his tongue gliding through your folds so wet and warm. Your orgasm is building, and you’re powerless to stave it off any longer.

“Joel,” you warn, his name a high-pitched whine. 

“Shh, I know babygirl; it’s okay.” 

Two of his fingers hook at your entrance and push in, pacifying you as his thumb continues working your clit. “I got you. Let go for me, sweetheart.”

The soothe of his voice floods your senses like nitrous; renders your body loose and your head foggy. You come apart with a string of shattered breaths, eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the duvet.

Joel talks you through it: that’s it, pretty girl; so good for me; always so good for me, and though he sounds so far away, his words are the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

The world comes back into view slowly. Air settles in your lungs. And you can’t help but laugh at how fucked-out you feel when you peer down at Joel, his gaze already locked on you, expectantly.

“Okay?” he asks, rubbing at your inner thigh.

“Yeah,” you exhale, corners of your lips pulling taut. “More than okay.”

He smiles back at you. Props himself up with hands planted either side of you on the mattress and hovers over your feeble form.

“Good,” he whispers, dipping his head down to kiss your forehead, your nose, your mouth. He licks into you, letting you taste yourself on him — a little sweet, a little bitter — and his lips are so soft that you nearly melt. “Did so good, angel.” 

You want nothing more than to spend all day in this bed with him. Return the favor a few times over. Learn what he looks like in the afternoon sun against the backdrop of navy blue sheets. What he tastes like after his coffee rather than before.

“I don’t want to leave,” you admit against his mouth and he frowns, taking one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to each of your knuckles, one by one, his eyes never straying from yours.

“I don’t want you to either, darlin’. But you can come back tonight, yeah?”

Tonight. Hours away. A whole day between now and then. But it’ll have to do. 

“Tonight,” you repeat. Solidify it. 

You slink home just as the street lights dim.

The house is quiet when you enter, apart from the incessant ticking of the grandmother clock in the living room. It sets off a throbbing in your head, a dull pang right at the front of your skull that you massage with two fingers as you ascend the stairs.

You move cautiously up each step, wincing at every creak of old wood. It must take minutes to reach the second-floor landing, and then you’re tiptoeing past your father’s room, listening for signs of sleep behind the seal of his door. Sure enough, you catch it, a single, drawn-out snore, loud enough that you let your feet fall, shuffling the rest of the way to the bathroom across the hall.

You immediately crank the shower on, climbing in as soon as you see steam. Lathering your skin with citrus-scented body wash, the smell of sex washes off your body and down the drain.

The warm water soothes your sore muscles; bittersweet relief. You stand there until the stream grows icy, stepping out and toweling yourself off just as you hear the familiar blare of your dad’s alarm on the other side of the wall.

By the time you’ve dressed and made your way downstairs, he’s already in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee with his back to you. 

Sink empty, counters borderline sparkling, a coaster tucked under his warm mug — your father is a neat man. He does not take kindly to mess.

God forbid, anybody disrupt the sacred balance of his home; move something and forget to put it back, break something of his that should be kept intact.

“Hey.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he yawns. Turns to face you. “You were up early. Heard the shower going.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you lie.

“Something on your mind?”

Heat blooms across your chest and up your neck. There’s no way he knows — you’ve been far too careful. Still, you’re on edge, and the question lodges itself between your ribs uncomfortably as you frantically search for an answer.

“Uh, n-no,” you stutter. “Just work stuff, I guess.”

He seems to buy it, reaching for the percolator and re-filling his mug with a sigh, “Just gotta give it time. You only just started. Plus, it’s your first job out of school. They don’t expect you to know it all right away.”

It’s good advice, if not misguided. You nod as if you’re absorbing it, taking it straight to heart. As if your mind isn’t preoccupied.

You grab a mug from the cabinet. Fill it with coffee and creamer. Perch yourself at the breakfast table and take a slow, steadying sip.

The caffeine has just about seeped into your bloodstream when-

-there’s a knock at the door.

Your dad shoots you a puzzled look, one which you immediately return. Who could that be, so early on a Wednesday morning?

And when he pushes open the door to reveal none other than Joel, you just about fall out of your chair. Your nails absentmindedly dig into the wood of the table in an attempt to brace yourself.

“Oh, buddy — hey! Come on in,” your dad says, patting him on the back as he steps over the threshold. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

You grasp the handle of your mug like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, you worry the ceramic will shatter in your hands.

Joel is dressed — blue cotton t-shirt covering his broad back and the deep, red scratches you left there when you dug your nails into skin, your legs hiked over his hips and your face tucked into his chest.

The pair of boxers peeking over the waistband of his jeans are different from the ones you pulled off of him last night, the ones he shimmied back into before you slept cradled in his arms.

He’s a different Joel here, now — your father’s friend, your neighbor — not the man who breaks you down with his tongue or the one who calls you his good girl while you take his entire, throbbing length. 

No, this Joel, standing in your kitchen in the presence of your father, has never betrayed him. Hasn’t tasted his friend’s daughter or felt the tight embrace of her wet, warm cunt around his cock. This Joel is reliable, honest, not one to do harm.

You do not desire this Joel, cannot. You must look at him with apathetic eyes. Must keep the boat of your longing at bay. 

Easier said than done. It’s as if your desire for him is a feral beast, fed by his touch and left starving in its wake. You feel like you’ve just run a marathon, sweat beading at your collar as you not-so-subtly follow the subconscious flex of his hands, the bunching of fabric over his biceps.

His voice bounces off the backsplash, and your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug.

“Yeah, I uh — I went to make myself coffee and realized I was out. Was hopin’ you might have some to spare?”

He can’t be serious. He came over for coffee? He couldn’t get some on the road?

“I’m afraid she took the last of it,” your dad’s eyes point to you, and you ignore the burn of Joel’s gaze when his follow.

“Ahh,” he says. “‘ts okay. I’ll grab some on my way in.” 

His fingers taptaptap on the edge of the countertop, bottom lip tucked between his teeth like there’s something else. Another reason he came here.

And then you spot it — your wallet, dark red leather, poking out the top of Joel’s back pocket. 

You must’ve left it in his room before you hurried home. Somewhere amongst the mess of trinkets and trash on his dresser. You half-remember dropping it there last night as he’d kneeled in front of you and peppered kisses up the length of your leg.

Thankfully, your dad is oblivious as ever, giving Joel the perfect opportunity to inconspicuously slip you your wallet when he turns around and crosses the kitchen, placing his empty mug in the sink. 

Joel sidesteps once, twice, extending his arm and snapping it back as soon as you have the wallet in your grasp.

Your father clears his throat. Spins to find Joel exactly where he was. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts, wrestling a slice of bread out of the bag and dropping it into the toaster, “I gotta set you up with this co-worker of mine, Deb.”

Joel freezes. You watch as the color drains from his face and his large hand anxiously cards through dark curls. You’re pretty sure you freeze too, breath caught somewhere in your throat until your dad turns to you and you remember to exhale. 

“You know Deb, right, honey?” he asks. You mentally flick through the rolodex of your dad’s coworkers. 

There’s Leanne, tall redhead, hosted a potluck a few months back at which you tasted the worst mac & cheese you’ve ever had. And Barbara from accounting, who he got into a heated argument with over who makes the best BBQ in the city. You only remember her name because he hadn’t shut up about how wrong her opinion was for a full week. 

This woman actually thinks the Smoke Shop has got better ribs than Lou’s. I said to her, Barbara, your taste buds must be absolutely torched.

But Deb? You don’t recall a Deb. Still, you’re pretty sure you hate her, just in hearing her name in this context. 

You shake your head, no. 

“Well, I guess you haven’t seen her in a while. She was there that day I brought you into the office.”

“When I was ten?” you retort. 

“Yeah, I guess it was that long ago, huh?”

You shrug. He returns his attention to Joel. “Anyway, Deb – she’s around your age, just got divorced about a year back, and she’s a real nice woman. I think you two would really hit it off.”

“Is that so?” Joel replies. You swear his voice wavers. If your dad notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You’ll like her Joel, I promise. I mean, when’s the last time you went out with a nice lady? Not since – what was her name — Jean? And if things were going well with her, I’d hope you’d tell your old friend.” The toaster pops, and he retrieves his slice of toast. Grabs a butter knife from the utensil drawer.  

“No, I ain’t seeing Jean,” Joel sighs. Flashes you an apologetic glance as your dad slathers his toast in artificial purple jam, blissfully unaware.

“Well, you gotta get back out there!” 

Joel’s gaze rolls to the ceiling. “I don’t know – I’m just not real interested in datin’ right now.”

You exhale, then — a quiet declaration of relief that seems to go unnoticed — unperturbed even when your dad continues his pitch. 

I’ve known this woman for years Joel, I’m telling you, the two of you’d be the perfect match; she’s a looker too, real pretty.

Ew. Tuning him out, you check the clock, find that you only have a few minutes before you need to get going. You stand from the table and make your way toward the sink with your now-empty coffee mug in hand.

Would I ever lead you astray? your dad is asking just as you brush past Joel. His hand, idle by his side, catches the fabric of your blouse and you have to fight to ignore the pinprick of electricity it ignites under your skin.

“No, I know,” Joel grumbles. “I trust your judgment ‘n all, ‘ts just-”

“Will you just give her a chance?”

“Jesus; fine.”

The mug slips from your grip, falls into the sink with a clang.

Your dad glares at you, expression softening only when you gesture to the still-intact ceramic lying on its side in the basin.

He’s quickly distracted, then, jotting a series of numbers down onto a scrap of notebook paper, the blue ink pressed in so hard that it’s beginning to bleed through. 

“Atta boy,” he drawls, sliding it across the counter. Joel pinches it between two fingers, folds the paper without looking at it and stuffs it into his front pocket. 

“Promise you’ll give her a call tonight? I may or may not have already talked you up, and I need to know you’re not gonna make me look bad here.”

Joel has to see you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He must. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under already. But he’s refusing to meet your gaze, eyes glued to the cabinet directly in front of him as he nods. “Yeah, I’ll call her tonight,” he says, a small, unconvincing smile pulling at the corner of his lips. 

He’s actually agreeing to this?

You need to get out of here before you say something rash.

The anger bubbles in you slowly, then all at once, threatening to boil over as you slip on your shoes and sling your bag over your shoulder. 

Marching toward the door, you offer a half-hearted bye, not bothering to look back before you leave.

The office is already milling with people by the time you stroll in, ten minutes late. 

The conversation between Joel and your dad is still running laps in your head as you sneak past your boss’s door.

It sticks there through the morning and well into the afternoon, your dad’s words an incessant earworm: I think you two would really hit it off.

The thing is — you can’t blame Joel for saying yes to the setup. Not really. Your situation is complicated, messy, bound to end badly.

Maybe he’d be happier with Deb. 

They could take walks together, stroll through the grocery store or down the street  hand-in-hand. Throw dinner parties and shamelessly gush about their relationship to their friends. All without fear of being caught doing something wrong.

Because that’s what this is, you and Joel — it’s wrong. Not like you weren’t already well aware of that. Leave it to some woman you’ve never met to rub it in.

The day passes infuriatingly slow.

The pile of emails in your inbox only grows larger by the time you’re due to clock out, stack of reports on your desk barely touched. You wince when your boss stops by your cubicle on her way out, eager for an update.

“Sorry, Linda; a couple of these were more time-consuming than I’d hoped,” you lie. But you can tell she doesn’t buy it, not one bit, her expression souring as you shuffle through papers.

“I need these done by the end of the week, no matter what.”

“Of course,” you mutter, face heating with embarrassment. “I’ll get them done and on your desk by Friday.”

“Thanks.” Her heels are already clacking on tile when you open your mouth to apologize again, your sorry lost to the ether.

You gather your things and scramble to your feet as soon as she’s out of view, not sticking around to watch your computer power down. By the time you get to your car, Joel’s number is already dialed on your phone.

He picks up after two rings.

“Darlin’ — are you okay?”

It’s admittedly uncharacteristic for you to call him so early. You usually wait until after dark, when you’ve both retreated to your respective bedrooms, away from listening ears.

But this can’t wait. It’s been eating at you all day, digging into your work. If you don’t talk to him about it, you’re going to end up unemployed. You don’t bother to ask if he’s still on the job site, around other people. “You’re going on this date.” It’s not a question. More of an accusation.

“Baby,” he sighs. You try your best to ignore his molasses drawl and the way it seeps into your chest. 

“Why didn’t you say no?” 

“How could I?” he groans. “There’s your dad, askin’ me if I’m seein’ someone, sayin’ he’s already told this lady about me – what am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice comes out a whine. “Make something up. Tell him you’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”

He laughs, low and breathy on the other end. “Yeah, baby. Think he’d believe that one, f’sure.”

“Fuck,” you huff. “I just— I don’t-“

You want to tell him not to go. To cancel. Fake his own death. Do whatever it takes to get out of this. But you have no right, not really. The two of you aren’t dating. You don’t have any control over what he does or who he sees. And you don’t want that, no. You just want him to choose you.

“I don’t wanna go, darlin’. I really don’t. But if I do this, I think it’ll get him off my back for a while. He won’t have a reason to suspect that I’m foolin’ around with his daughter.”

Fooling around. His phrasing is a metaphorical punch in the gut.

It’s not exactly a lie. You haven’t put a label on this thing, whatever it is. It’s been purely physical: lips slotted to lips, tongues pressed together, swapped sweat and saliva. But hearing it reduced to two words, words with such a casual connotation — as if you haven’t been driven by overwhelming desire — makes your stomach churn.

Joel doesn’t seem to clock it when you go quiet, a cocktail of rage and sorrow sloshing around your insides. “It’s for the best,” he adds, a shot of hard, burning liquor. 

“Yeah,” you say defeatedly. Choke back the pathetic tears that creep up your throat. “For the best.”

He ends the call with the excuse of bad cell reception. Promises to talk to you later. You’re not sure that you believe him.

The phrase fooling around curls up in your head, a wet dog, its fur dripping into the crevices of your rattled brain the entire drive home.

You dodge Joel’s calls for the remainder of the week.

There’s no use in talking to him when you have nothing to say, when you know any words you attempt will be overtaken by tears.

Even so, it doesn’t stop him from trying. His number lights up the screen of your phone at least twice a day.

He leaves voicemails that you do not listen to. You can’t. The last thing you need is his syruppy drawl in your ear. You’ll break; you know you will.

So instead, you delete them. Rid yourself of temptation.

But you still ache for him — a devastating truth. You lumber through the days, bones heavy with hurt. Find yourself kept up at night by thoughts of Joel and the infuriatingly soothing timbre of his voice, the intoxicating callous of his fingertips against your soft skin. 

It’s a lonely thing, yearning for Joel Miller.

On Friday, your father beams at the dinner table. He’s grinning like a child as he stuffs a forkful of rice into his mouth.

“Joel and Deb’s date is tomorrow,” he says. “Think they’ll really hit it off, don’t you?”

You’re dumbfounded for a long moment — can’t believe that this is your life now: being asked about your thoughts on Joel and the ever-elusive Deb as a couple. When it takes too long for you to answer, your father’s fork stills pointedly on his plate, and you sputter.

“Oh! I mean, I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t remember Deb.” You can’t help your condescending tone. Your dad doesn’t seem to catch it anyway. 

“Well,” he says, “I think they’ll be a match. Hoping so, anyway. The man has been such a hermit lately — maybe if he has a lady, he’ll get out more!”

“You sound real excited,” you grumble. Stab four peas on the prongs of your fork.

“It is exciting. I’ve never set anyone up before. And the best part is, the place they’re going to — the Tavern — it’s got rooms you can rent out for wedding receptions. Just imagine if down the line, they got mar-“

“Dad,” you stop him. You think you’ll be physically sick if you let him finish that sentence. “Sorry, I just — I’m really tired, all of a sudden. I think I’m going to head to bed early.”

It’s not a complete lie. You’re emotionally exhausted as a result of the past couple days. Sleep sounds like a much-needed, blissful escape right now.

Your dad doesn’t question you. He just nods. Swipes your plate from in front of you and brings it to the sink along with his.

Of course, you find it impossible to actually drift off that night. Tossing and turning, you battle the glaring urge to get up, slink into the home-office and look up directions to the Tavern. 

Not that you’re planning to go there anytime soon — you’re just curious. That’s all. 

Around midnight, you give up, pad down the hallway and into the room parallel yours. The computer dials up slowly, and you chew your bottom lip as you wait. 

You snatch a piece of paper from the printer and a pen from the #1 Dad mug that sits next to the monitor. Click on the internet icon and type the words into the search bar.

This is definitely a bad idea. Maybe the worst you’ve had in a while.

You jot the address down anyway.

Downtown Austin is buzzing with life. 

Patrons spilling out of bars, tourists striding down the street in their brand new Stetsons – it almost distracts you from the task at hand. 

At just past seven, you’d told your dad you were going out, meeting a friend for drinks. He’d been a bit taken aback, seeing as you’re not very social these days, but he’d seemed happy. Relieved. 

That’s not what you’re doing, of course.

No – in reality, you’re turning into the parking lot attached to the Tavern. It’s packed to the brim with cars, but you still manage to find Joel’s truck, its license plate number burned into the back of your mind after countless mornings of absently reading it as you snuck past.

It’s idle and empty when you inch by, and even though you knew he’d be here, on this date, your heart still sinks. Because maybe a tiny part of you had hoped he’d stand Deb up. 

You should leave. It was stupid to come here in the first place. What are you going to do — storm inside and demand that he leave with you?

You consider it for half a second, groaning when you realize how pitiful you are. Defeated, you swing your car into a spot at the back, facing the building, and shift it into park. You hug the steering wheel dejectedly.

From here, you have a straight-shot view of the restaurant’s entrance, a set of double doors at the side of the building. Groups spill out every so often, every pair that emerges causing your back to arch reflexively.

Joel and Deb are probably discussing their interests right now, bonding over a shared connection with your dad. You can vividly picture the smile likely plastered across his face — the same one you’ve elicited with sweet filth whispered in his ear.

And you’re here, sitting in your running car, watching the door. Your pulse thumps obnoxiously loud in your ears.

Minutes pass like molasses, slow and thick. You watch the clock on the car radio obsessively, betting with yourself on what time they’ll leave. After thirty minutes of nothing, you’re convinced that they’re going to close the place out.

But then the door opens again, and you straighten up, immediately met with the sight of Joel and Deb. 

She’s talking animatedly, eyes widening every few words, blonde hair wafting around her narrow face. It’s undeniable that she’s stunning, even from far away; possesses the kind of beauty you see on magazine covers in line at the grocery store. The jealousy that pools in your gut burns like acetone in an open wound.

She takes his arm as they walk toward the parking lot, and he lets her, despite the rest of his body appearing strangely rigid.

You wonder if he’ll take her home. Lead her to his truck, help her up the step to the passenger seat and sneak a look at her ass under her dress before shutting the door. If they’ll leave her car in the lot for the night, come back to retrieve it in the morning once he’s helped her forget about her loser ex-husband; let the scent of her perfume seep into the bed sheets to cover up yours.

But he doesn’t lead her to his truck. You watch as they unexpectedly turn down a row of cars, disappearing from your view completely, his arm still locked with hers. 

He could still kiss her. Press her against the car. Promise her that he’ll call — and he will, first thing tomorrow. He’s probably just being a real gentleman. Treating her like a woman he might want to marry someday. 

Maybe he knows, after just one date, that she’s his soulmate. He’ll buy the ring in a couple weeks. They’ll be engaged in a month’s time, and he’ll say he just couldn’t wait any longer. 

She’s the one thing I’ve been missing.

You stew in the agonizing unknown for what feels like hours before Joel materializes once again, backside illuminated by headlights as he strides toward his truck.

And then — he stops. You see the exact moment he notices your car in the parking lot, his eyebrows threading together and his hands splaying over his hips.

He’s staring directly through the windshield. At you.

Fuck.

He takes a few slow steps. Stops in front of the hood. Narrows his eyes and flexes his jaw.

With a deep breath, you unlock the doors. Gesture for him to get in the passenger side. 

He immediately rounds the car, prying the door open and climbing inside just as a SUV pulls out the row he and Deb had walked down. 

The door slams when he yanks it closed. The sound echoes through the cab of the car.

“You wanna fuckin’ explain what you’re doin’ here?” he snaps. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, embarrassment and now, anger, spooling hot behind your ears.

You know you’re in the wrong. You shouldn’t have followed him. But does he have to be so hostile?

When your gaze finally meets his, he looks — distraught — jaw clenched and lips set in a straight line. His fingers absently dig into denim-covered thighs.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, “I just wanted to see how you were with her.” And it’s the truth; not one you want to be admitting right now, to him, but it’s the truth nonetheless.

“Doesn’t give you the right to spy on me.”

“So what was I supposed to do? Sit at home and mope while the guy I was seeing is on a date with someone else? Oh no, I’m sorry,” you throw your hands up, form air quotes with your fingers, “the guy I was fooling around with.”

This seems to strike a nerve. His jaw twitches, and his fingers still on his lap.

“It wasn’t like that,” he grits

“No? Isn’t that all this was to you: fooling around?”

There’s a beat. Joel sighs. 

“No — fuck, no. Of course not.”

His expression softens. A crack in solid stone. “I tried callin’ you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” you admit.

He nods. Another beat.

“Did you kiss her?” you ask.

“No.” He says it with intent, with promise, eyes firmly locked on yours now. 

Your mouth goes dry.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats. “I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want to.”

“You don’t want her?” 

“No,” he says flatly, his pupils bulging in the lamplight, black bleeding into the brown of his irises. “I don’t want her.” 

“Why not?” 

He leans forward. His weight presses into the center console and his breath fans your face — warm, tinged with the scent of cheap beer.

“I don’t want her,” he says, voice an octave lower, “because I want you. I thought you knew that?” 

The radio drones between the two of you, some classic rock song you think you recognize flitting through the speaker. Your pulse beats staccato in your throat, off tempo.

“You want me?” you ask, a little breathless, and the next words you say are beyond dumb, beyond reckless, but you say them anyway. “Prove it.”

Joel doesn’t hesitate. He closes the slight distance between you and kisses you, hard, his tongue frantically sliding against yours through parted lips.

It’s sloppy, and desperate, and you feel drunk on the taste of him, on longing laced with carnal need. He’s groaning into your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands, burying his fingers in your hair — as if he can’t get close enough, as if he’ll only be satisfied once he’s swallowed you whole. You’re pretty sure you want him to.

Your hands move frantically to his t-shirt, then, bunch into the fabric and pull. You need to feel the skin underneath, need to rove your hands along his bare chest. He accommodates, tugging the shirt by the back of the collar, lips separating from yours ever-so-briefly to bring it over his head and toss it onto the backseat. 

And then he’s back on you, licking into your mouth again, eliciting a whimper from you when his hand wraps around the side of your throat, just under your jaw. 

Your palms splay across his torso, wander over warm, golden skin. You’ve missed this, god, you’ve missed this — but it’s still not enough. You need to feel more of him. In your mouth, in your hand, in your cunt — you’re not picky. Just need him in whatever way he’ll provide.

“Joel,” you whimper into his mouth, fingers winding around his bicep. 

He pulls back. Peers at you through hooded eyes. “What is it, baby?” he asks through labored breaths. 

“Need you — please.”

He immediately unbuckles your seatbelt. Lowers his seat back and manhandles you onto his lap. You go easily; slot yourself to him with legs folded on either side of his thighs. 

Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you grind down into his lap. His cock strains against denim underneath you. He groans when you swivel your hips and brush the heft of it again with your clothed heat.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” he asks into your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours.

Your breath catches. 

You know what he’s really asking: are you going to  let him fuck you here, in the parking lot of a public establishment, where anybody could see?

But you don’t care. In fact, you’re way past caring, the emptiness of your cunt too painful to ignore any longer. Let them watch him take what’s his.

You nod frantically. “Yes,” you pant. “Please.”

Joel nods too, as if he’s accepting his fate. He’s going to fuck his friend’s daughter in the passenger seat of her car. There’s no way around it — not when you’re begging for it. He’s going to give you what you need.

“Okay,” he soothes, “I got you baby.” 

He helps you out of your pants, then; clumsily maneuvers them down and off your legs along with your panties and tosses them aimlessly into the back.

He doesn’t bother to take his jeans off. Lets you unzip them and pop the button open, your nimble fingers making quick work of it. And then you’re pulling his cock out of his boxers, stiff and leaking in your grasp.

You steady yourself with hands on his shoulders just as he begins to pepper placating kisses along your neck. “Go ahead baby,” he whispers into your ear. “Take it; it’s yours.”

His head falls back against the seat as you stroke him a few times and line his cock up with your dripping entrance, his hands clasped around your waist. 

You sink down slowly, savoring every inch of him as he burrows in deeper. He’s so thick, stretching you like it’s the first time again, your walls fluttering as they relax around his cock.

“Fuck,” Joel slurs, fingers digging into your skin impatiently when you still, fully seated on him.

“Gotta move baby — please move.”

He’s so fucking deep, though, his cockhead bumping your cervix, and your entire body feels gelatinous atop him. A cloying sort of heat hangs around your head. You swivel your hips weakly, your forehead falling to rest on his with a heavy sigh.

Joel is happy to take control, bucking up into you so hard you see stars. You can’t suppress the string of moans that spill from your mouth, and Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He’s just as loud, anyway, his broken sounds bleeding into yours, bouncing off glass and leather.

Neither of you can muster an actual word, though, not with him rutting up into you, sheathing himself in your pussy over and over again. He’s relentlessly hitting that spot — the one that has you practically clinging to him for dear life. 

It’s approaching too quickly; he’s going to make you come.

One of your hands flies to the roof of the car in an attempt to brace yourself, flat palm pressing into it so hard you worry it’ll pop. 

Joel takes the opportunity to drag you down in his lap, spearing you on his cock, and the sudden change in angle makes you cry out.

“Oh f— ahh, oh my—“

“That’s it,” he coos, “you got it, babygirl.”

His words tip you over the edge, your entire body locking up as you gush around him. You’re wetting his lap, slick splattering his thighs, and he loves it, his fervid moan telling you so.

His movements begin to falter then, hips stuttering underneath you as he chases his own high.

“Cmon, baby,” you goad, “please fill me up.”

He grunts when he spills inside, his face nestling in your chest, heaving as he works through it and begins to come down. You don’t move, not that Joel would let you, still holding you on his lap like he’s afraid to let you go.

You nuzzle into his embrace as his cock softens inside you.

You stay like that for a while, probably too long given that anybody could easily look into the car and see you straddling him. You don’t have the energy to care.

Eventually, you lift your head from its spot on Joel’s chest. Look up at him with bleary eyes.

“Joel,” you say.

He meets your gaze, face shiny with sweat and his hair a mess. He looks gorgeous like this, you think. The way only you get to see him.

“Yeah?” He grazes along your arm with featherlight fingers. His touch raises goosebumps on your skin.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“About wanting me.” In truth, you’re not sure you want the answer. But you need to know, definitively, if Joel is yours. You’re done sharing him.

“Oh, baby,” he drawls. “Of course I do. You’re all I want. Do you want me?”

And it’s a stupid question. He has to know that. You’re nodding before he can even finish it. “Yes,” you breathe. “I want you, Joel”

“Then it’s settled. It’s me and you. No more…interlopers.”

You giggle. Reluctantly separate yourself from his body and re-dress. You settle back into the driver’s seat with achy legs.

You’ve never felt more content than you do in this moment.

Still, you’ll have to hide — won’t be able to share the news of your new relationship with friends or coworkers, your dad — and neither will Joel. 

You don’t care much, not as long as he’s yours, but you need to be sure he feels the same.

“Joel,” you stop him as he opens the passenger-side door to get out. He stills with one leg swung out the door.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind…being a secret? Don’t mind keeping me a secret?”

He looks at you like you have two heads.

He pulls his leg back into the car. Shuts the door and leans over the console again.

Taking your chin between his fingers, he forces your gaze. Makes sure you’re listening.

“I want you — doesn’t matter who knows or doesn’t know. Long as you’re mine.”

Your chest tightens, and your heart squeezes inside your ribcage.

“I’m yours?”

He smiles. Presses a chaste kiss between your eyes, on the tip of your nose, on your lips. The same way he did the other morning. 

It all feels somehow sweeter, now.

“Yeah, angel. You’re mine. My girl.”

end notes: tysm for reading! please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed! I've been toying with the idea of turning this into a series so lmk if that's something you'd be interested in hehe.

Also, I hopped on the bandwagon and made a sideblog for notifs! I'll be doing away with a taglist from here on out, so follow @joelscurlsupdates & turn on notifications if you wanna be notified when I post a new fic :-)

tag list: @janaispunk @amanitacowboy @fhatbhabie @frannyzooey @lola8888673

[ch-4-eri]

Slut — Abby Anderson.

Best friend!Abby X fem!Reader.

I need help, perhaps. Smut under the cut.

You and your best friend Abby were having a girls night of some sort, she often came by because her dorm is packed and she’d say it’s uncomfortable or whatever.

Accepting any excuse she had you’d allow her to stay over, sharing the bed with her almost every night.

You liked having her around, she was fun and your friendship was the most invasive one there is, at least in your own opinion, you both knew too much about each other.

But would never judge the other.

Especially with Abby being on top of you as you got so needy one night, her fingers pumping in and out of you, your moans echoing in the bedroom, you’d begged her to relieve the tension between your legs.

It’s always when you’re ovulating, it gets bad enough you’re humping every pillow, your fingers, but nothing was ever enough.

And as Abby came over that night, desperate for a place to sleep where it’s comfortable, you were too busy in your own head to just let this one go, her hands were perfect, you couldn’t stop looking at them as you were finally honest about your feelings, desperately wanting something to feed the hunger inside of you.

Abby fucking loved it, she’s always thought you were beautiful, sure she’s straight but it wouldn’t hurt to help a best friend out.

Her fingers deliciously massaged your g spot as you were seeing stars, your mouth hung open as moans escaped your throat without you trying to help it, it’s Abby after all. “Oh sweetheart..” Abby chuckled, allowing you to ride her fingers out, circling your needy hole with her thick fingers, your legs spread against your mattress.

Abby dragged multiple orgasms out of you that night, she refused to stop unless you wanted her to, she went all the way with your time of need, knowing you were too damn shy to go out on a date and get a guy to rearrange your guts, but allowing your girl best friend to do so.

You didn’t get enough, you still wanted so much more and Abby could never be able to say no to you, her mouth was enveloping your cunt as she ate you out, riding her face as her nose hit that one spot that had you screaming and cumming down on her tongue.

Still was not enough, Abby was surprised you could take so much. She always assumed you’d get tired from one go, but oh boy was she wrong.

You’d ride her thigh, her hands on your hips guiding you through the fifth orgasm for the night, your crying and whining was like music to her ears, surely best friends wouldn’t act this way but your friendship was else. And Abby is way too busy shoving her knee into your cunt as you rode her out once again to think about it, your moans were louder than ever.

“Jesus, bunny.. you fucking slut.” Abby mocked you, laughing into your neck breathlessly as your hips rolled once again to fuck into her thigh.

She grabbed the back of your neck to look into your eyes. “Can’t get enough huh? Makes me wish I had a dick so I can go all the way.” She mumbled, kissing the side of your neck as it turned you into a puddle of cum. “Abby..” you moaned, your cunt dragging up and down her toned thigh.

“Sit on my face huh?” Abby suggested, the thought of her tongue inside of you again was blinding and you nodded eagerly. “Yes please, oh god please.” You whined, your whimpers were turning her on so bad, she came twice just by pleasuring you.

Abby lied down on your bed, quickly crawling to sit on her face, the feeling of her nose was too good, you were a shuddering mess, finally feeling that sensitivity that would get you to stop and take a breath, but one last time, you needed this, needed her.

Her tongue was working wonders on your sensitive bundle of nerves, making your moans more strained, closing your thighs in on her head. “Fuck.. Abby..” you cried, rolling your hips to ride her face. “Fuck uh..” you moaned again as Abby flicked her tongue against your clit and it made you grab her hair and ride her face harder. Soft uh uh uh uh’s echoing in the bedroom.

Gushing all you had down Abby’s face, your cum dripping down her cheeks and her nose, as soon as you pulled away from her face Abby just laughed, mostly surprised her best friend was that much of a freak.

She knew certain stuff about you, but never like this, and getting proof? Abby was ecstatic, she’s never going to live this one down.

You finally caught your breath and looked at her next to you, she was wiping her face with her hands, licking what’s left off her lips. “Stop laughing.” You warned, closing your legs as the amount of friction was catching up in no time.

“My goodness you’re a freak!” Abby laughed some more, copying the way you were moaning as you smacked her arm. “Stop!”

“Who fucking knew! Bunny, I never imagined you’re that loud.” Abby laughed some more, standing up, fixing her trousers, she was definitely affected by this but oh how she loves teasing you, now she has a better reason.

You sat up on your elbow and huffed. “I was pent up okay?” You said defensively. “For a year?” Abby jokes, letting out another hearty laugh.

“Oh fuck you.” You say and smack her with a pillow, her face a little shiny from your cum, the reality of what just happened was making you a bit shy but again it was Abby, so much history and stuff worse than cumming on her face occurring.

She helped you clean up as you both laughed at what just happened, your friendship is indeed else.

[rafesangelita]

rafe + voyeurism

warnings: handyman!rafe, rafe is pervy lol, flirting, pet names, rafe watches you in the shower, masturbation, oral (m. & f. receiving), dirty talk, unprotected sex, shower sex, slight fluff, rafe answers the door when your date knocks >:)

a/n: inspired by the small piece i wrote here <3 all credit to @rafesheaven for handyman!rafe 🤍 i highly recommend her fics with him ♡

wc: 2.4k

“what’s the problem now, pretty?” rafe answered the phone, popping open a can of beer as your sweet little voice sounded on the other line. “rafe, my shower is out!” you whined, adjusting the pink fluffy robe around your body. “well, what’s wrong with it, babe?” your cheeks heated at the name. rafe knew exactly what was wrong with it, he’s the one who messed it up last time he was there so he had a reason to come back. “i twisted the knob for it to turn on, but i think the handle is loose..” you explained. rafe hummed, getting up from his recliner. “i’ll be there in five.”

rafe lived in the same apartments as you, just in a different complex not too far from your own. it wasn’t long before you heard his heavy footsteps outside of your door, opening it before he could knock. “are you wearing anything underneath that?” he motioned towards your pre-shower ensemble. you whispered a ‘no..’ dragging him in by his large arm. “i have to be ready in one hour!” you were frantic as rafe followed behind you, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. “it’s nearly seven o’clock, where are you off to?” you moved aside to let rafe through, taking a seat on the edge of the sink counter.

“my friends set me up on a blind date, ‘said they were tired of me being single.. so.” rafe couldn’t help the way his jaw ticked. “a blind date, huh? is he picking you up here?” rafe set his toolbox down as he got on his knees. “yeah, he insisted on doing so, too. which i thought was a little weird but.. it’s okay i guess.” you shrugged, crossing one leg over the other. rafe looked back, the opening of your robe exposing your bare legs and thighs. thankfully, you were too distracted by something else to see rafe’s tongue glide over his bottom lip. “so.. uh, tell me about this guy..”

rafe let you ramble on, feigning interest as he learned your date was just an arrogant asshole. fortunately, you had a habit of veering off track when it came to having conversations, which lead to you now telling him about a recipe you saw on a late night cooking show. “i’ll make it and you can come over and taste test it, how does that sound?” rafe nodded. he would much rather taste test something else. “i think that sounds great.” he sat up, tossing the last tool in his toolbox with a clank! “alright, moment of truth,” rafe twisted the shower knob, and sure enough the water came out perfectly.

you hopped off the counter, not realizing your robe had come undone a little bit. the valley of your breasts were peeking through, the sight making rafe let out a breath. “thank you!” you grabbed his hand and helped him off the floor. “it’s no problem.” the man in front of you shamelessly stared at your chest, your eyes following his. you gasped at the amount of cleavage that was out, spinning around to cover yourself up. “i’m so sorry, i don’t know how that happened!” you covered your face in embarrassment as rafe laughed to himself. “i’m not complaining.”

rafe walked around you, making you topple forward a bit when he landed a playful smack on your backside. if it was anyone else, you would’ve kicked them out of your apartment with a threat to make a police report.. but it was rafe, so you offered him your fridge instead. “you could take whatever you want! i’ll be out in a sec!” rafe took you up on your offer, grabbing a beer that you specifically bought for him whenever he made a surprise visit. popping it open, he took a swig, reaching for his phone in his pocket only for it not to be there. “shit.” he put the beer down, checking the rest of pockets.

realizing it must be in the bathroom, rafe cursed under his breath when he heard the shower running. “y/n?” you couldn’t hear him over the water, your eyes screwed shut as you washed your hair. opening the door slightly, rafe peeked in and saw his phone on the floor. he swallowed thickly, the scent of your shampoo filling his senses. don’t look up, don’t look up, don’t look up, rafe chanted in his head, failing miserably when he ultimately zeroed in on your naked form. he knew you were perfect already, but seeing you like this was next level.

he watched as the suds from your hair dripped down to your tits, the clear glass growing foggy with shower steam. he wondered how you’d feel in his hands, wishing so bad he could take a tit in his mouth. rafe’s chest rose and fell, his cock stirring in his pants as you turned around and bent down for your body wash. luckily for you, the steam obstructed the view rafe ached so bad to see. without a care in the world, rafe palmed himself through his work jeans, his head tipping back at the much needed friction. “fuck, yeah..” he whispered to himself, thumb gliding over his sensitive tip.

you lathered yourself up, turning around so your back was facing rafe. with hungry eyes, he watched you scrub down your legs, catching a glimpse of your sudsy folds. pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, rafe refrained from letting out a groan as his hand jerked himself with vigor. he wondered if you knew just how bad he wanted you. if it was up to him, you’d be more than just the pretty tenant he likes to bother, and him more than the handyman, but he could dream. rinsing yourself off under the stream of water, you stood there, relishing in the hot water pattering against your skin.

rafe could make you so so happy if you’d just let him. he’d treat you with so much love and care everyday, and fuck you until you were in hysterics. he imagined what it would be like to be in a relationship with you, how waking up next to you would look like. he was so tired of envisioning these things, he shut the door behind him, startling you. “rafe?” you peered up at the man standing in the middle of your bathroom, his hand in his pants as he looked at you with dark eyes. “w-what are you doing?” he didn’t say anything as he started undressing, his shirt falling to the floor.

“tell me to leave.” his jeans were next to go, the imprint of his length making you swallow thickly. rafe smirked at your lack of response, internally singing as you slid open the glass door for him to join you. you had butterflies fluttering in your tummy when he took off his underwear. rafe was so tall, he had to lean down in order to get in without hitting himself, his broad shoulders barely fitting through. once he was in, your cheeks heated as reality hit you. here you were, standing naked with the man who’s been a pervy flirt for nearly six months now.

“you okay?” rafe’s hands found your hips, pulling you close until his cock sat heavily between you two. you nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. he groaned when he felt your nipples against his chest. bringing his head down, you let out a yelp when his hands snaked down to your ass and squeezed. you reached up on your tippy toes and kissed him, his mouth moving perfectly with yours. rafe wasted no time, backing you up into the shower wall where he grinded his hard-on between your thighs. taking the base of him in your hand, you gasped at how hard he felt in your palm.

“can i?” you were already getting on your knees before him, rafe groaning at how eager you felt to please him. rafe grabbed a handful of your hair, staring at you intently as you stroked him before meeting his eyes. you looked gorgeous like this. eyes sparkling up at his face, rafe admired your features under the soft light of the bathroom. you kissed his tip, licking a stripe up from the underside of his cock before he pushed himself between your lips. your pink nails dug into his skin, your eyebrows knitting together as he forced his length down your throat.

you moaned, the sensation making him shudder. “fuck,” he grunted through gritted teeth, “feels’ so fuckin good.” he balanced an arm on the wall, his eyes screwing shut as you worked your magic on his cock. the way you bobbed your head up and down made him want to shoot his load all over your face, your hands cupping your tits as you squeezed the sensitive swells of your breasts. rafe was mesmerized, his mouth hanging open as he watched you pull off of him with a pop! you smiled up at the man above you, rubbing the head of his cock across your lips.

deciding he couldn’t wait any longer, rafe picked you up like a ragdoll, your legs wrapping around his waist as he kissed you roughly. you whimpered when your back met the cold tile on the wall. spreading your thighs apart, you looked down when rafe guided himself between your slick folds, your clit aching to be touched. you two exchanged looks, as if he was asking for permission. placing your palms on his shoulders for leverage, you practically melted in his hands when he thrusted into you. whimpering his name, rafe urged you to lock your ankles around his back.

“y’have no idea how much i’ve thought about doing this to you.” he spoke into the curve of your neck, his body glistening from shielding you from the shower head. you recalled laying in bed one particular night, thinking about rafe and those rough hands of his. needless to say you fell into a deep slumber imagining your fingers as his own. your mouth opened and closed a few times like you wanted to say something but couldn’t get the words out. watching you struggle was easily the hottest thing rafe has ever seen. “talk, baby, i need to hear that voice so i can dream of it later.”

soon after he said that, you were whining and blabbering about how much you thought about him when you were alone. “yeah? ‘touching yourself to the thought of me?” he taunted, hips slamming into yours as the heels of your feet dug into his back. “yes! oh, god— i just wanted to feel you inside of me..” rafe cursed at your words, pressing a searing kiss to your lips. “show me how you did it, ‘pretty. let me feel this pussy squeeze around me.” you let out a shaky breath, the pads of your fingers finding your sensitive bundle of nerves. you gasped, your back arching off of the wall.

rafe watched you rub delicate circles on the little bud, your body jolting every now and then when the feeling became overwhelming. “can’t!” you shook your head when you were close, your thighs threatening to snap shut around his hips. rafe moved your hand out of the way and replaced it with his own, his fingers working mercilessly on your puffy clit. letting out a scream, your forehead fell on his shoulder as his release teetered on the edge of pure euphoria. he was going to fill you up soon, the thought alone making his hips stutter as you cried out in bliss.

rafe held you against his chest, his hot seed filling you up with every moan that left his mouth. you were jelly at this point, your orgasm hitting you in intense waves of ecstasy as rafe twitched inside your soaking cunt. slowly but surely, your highs subsided, both of you panting against each other’s lips. “think you could walk?” you shook your head, your thighs still visibly trembling at his sides. he nodded, reassuring you with a ‘okay, don’t worry baby.’ still holding you against the wall, rafe pulled out of you with a groan. whimpering at the feeling of being empty, you watched as he twisted the shower knob off.

holding you bridal style, rafe stepped out of the shower and placed you gently on the sink counter. he quickly grabbed two towels from the little shelf you had in the bathroom and dried you off, wrapping the soft cotton around your shoulders. you licked your lips, the sight of the water droplets dripping down his abs was making you ready for round two. wrapping the towel around his waist, rafe carried you once more to your bed. “again.” you looked up at him with a pout. rafe laughed, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “yeah? you want more?” you nodded, pulling him on top of you.

slotting himself between your thighs, he kissed you deeply before there was a knock at the door. pausing for a second, you wondered who it could be before your eyes widened. “that’s my date! well— was, my date.. oh, god!” you giggled, covering your face in embarrassment. glancing at the clock on your bedside table, rafe smiled. 8:00 PM. “wow, he’s just in time.” he got up, making you gasp. “don’t be mean to him!” you called out as rafe answered the front door. the poor guy’s smile faded quickly when he saw a shredded, over six feet tall of a man answer the door.

“sorry, i must be at the wrong apartment..” he blinked, about to leave before rafe stopped him. “you’re here for y/n, right? she’s inside.” rafe reached for the flowers in your date’s hand, flashing him a wink. “she’s a little preoccupied right now, though.” shutting the door in his face, rafe hid the flowers behind his back before stalking back inside your room. bless your heart, your towel was gone as you laid naked and pretty, waiting all for him. “i hope you like pink roses, ‘cause i just got you a dozen of ‘em.” you sat up, a gasp leaving your lips as rafe kneeled down on the side of your bed.

“aw, how pretty!” you gave them a sniff, pecking rafe’s cheek. “can you put them in water for me?” you batted your eyelashes at him, the action sending rafe into a frenzy. you were so cute. doing as you asked, rafe came back and got on his knees once more. “i was thinking.. you were so gracious enough to take me in your mouth, it’s only right if i return the favor, yeah?” he hooked your thighs to the tops of his shoulders, excitement pooling in your belly. “yes—” you were cut off when you felt rafe’s tongue delve between your folds. “you’re so fuckin’ sweet, i can eat you all night.” and he did.

[celestiamour]

pls pls plsss write smth where fem reader and se-mi meet at the games and fall for one another? w the reader having a sort of bubbly and cute personality! tysm 🫶🫶

ft. se-mi x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ falling for your cute and bubbly personality┊0.7k words

contains: fluff! reader is a sweetheart, asking you out

➤ author's note: i was so in love with her this entire season like i couldn’t stop giggling every time she showed up on screen

you seem to be able to create friends even in this impossible situation, she notes as she watches you with amused eyes while you flutter around the room from group to group like a pretty butterfly flying from flower to flower. there’s at least one person in the dozens of teams who you know by name and not number, and even if you didn’t, you thought all of them were deserving of a drop of sunshine that was your personality. you made even the most difficult people crack a smile with how infectious your energy was and how sweet you were even in these murder games, and it made her indifferent heartbeat a little faster whenever it was her turn to have your attention. who wouldn’t feel that way when there was such a cute girl who reminded her of the princesses from those cartoons she watched when she was little?

“se-mi unnie!! how are you holding up?”

she hadn’t seen the real light of the sun in days, yet your smile shone even brighter than the morning star and she briefly wondered if she would be blinded if she looked directly at it. you were like a doll in the sense that it seemed to be permanent, but after seeing the look on your face after the first game where dozens died like they meant nothing, she now knows you were simply spreading some much-needed love to others as a way to cope with the traumatic experience like the sweetheart you were.

“i’m doing okay, i just wish the food tasted better— come sit next to me,” she commanded, patting her free hand against the open spot on the mattress because she wanted as much of your time as possible. 

“well, it’s kimbap, so you can’t really go wrong with it!” you obediently climbed onto the bed with her, sitting so close that she could smell the artificial flower-scented soap of the shower you took a couple of hours ago. “when we get out of here, you should come over to my place and i’ll cook you some food! i’m not as good as my grandma, but it’s a lot better than the cold stale stuff they serve here.”

“that would be great.” she liked the idea of coming over to your place, already able to imagine your room full of stuffed animal collections and lace curtains, although she would much prefer it if she came as something more than a friend— but now that she thinks about it, did you even like girls in that way like she does? you didn’t really express romantic interest in girls, but you exactly didn’t show any for guys either, being more of a little sister figure for them all rather than a potential love interest like she saw you as. 

there was only one way to tell, so se-mi did what she did best, and that was flirting with girls. 

“god, i wish this could be over already,” she sighed as she leaned over to your side to rest her head on your shoulder. “i would love to come over to your place, we could have a spa night and watch romance movies until morning.”

as soon as the words left her mouth, she felt heat start to radiate off your face. “l-like a date?”

“well, only if you want it to be a date…” 

“w-well… um… i would… really, really like that… um, mrs kang is calling for me! i’ll talk to you later!” you stuttered as you rushed off in the direction of the old lady and her son, covering your face with your hands and running away like an embarrassed anime girl. she watched carefully as you told them something in a clearly excited tone before smacking the man with the glasses when his head snapped in se-mi’s direction, but they both seemed very happy for you which made her smile knowing you were on board

“goddamn it, why is everyone pulling cute girls except for me?!” an annoyingly familiar voice from a certain purple-haired rapper started. “what am i doing wrong? i’m thanos for crying out loud, i should be getting swarmed!”

“you might want to work on your technique.”

[pinkboaclub]

Sweet Thing

Summery: You and Harry are best friends, despite your 15 year age gap. One night, when your blind date goes wrong, he wants to make sure your night still ends in pleasure. {Older!Harry}

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: smut, age gap (15 years), mention of alcohol consumption, fem!reader

“Oh, what’s wrong, pretty girl?” Harry asked, his voice warm with concern as you trudged over to him from the bar, exhaustion written across your face.

The music in the background blared so loudly that it felt like it was vibrating through your bones, drowning out everything else. Every Friday night, Harry rented a private room at the local club for your group of friends to unwind, drink, and let loose.

You collapsed into his lap, resting your head against his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh.

“I’m just so tired…” you mumbled, your voice barely audible over the thumping bass.

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer with a gentle smile. He knew how alcohol always made you sleepy and affectionate, especially after just a few drinks.

“Poor thing,” Harry teased, his lip sticking out in a mock pout. He was used to giving you the same spiel every Friday—how he knew even a little alcohol would knock you out.

“I wasn’t even planning on drinking tonight,” you giggled drunkenly. “But then Eve and Clara dragged me to the bar, and I had one drink… and then two… and then three…it really wasn’t my fault.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll get you something to eat, at least. You need to balance out that alcohol.” He reached across the table to grab a small bowl of pretzels and nuts he had sent to the table the moment he saw you take your first shot, but the thought of eating made your stomach churn.

Despite the 15-year age gap between you—23 and Harry 38—you had always been close. You were just friends, of course, and had made sure to clarify that to everyone around you, but it didn’t stop people from speculating.

But could you blame them? You practically lived at his house, spent most of your free time together, and took care of each other like an old married couple.

You half-heartedly munched on a couple of pretzels, trying to settle your stomach. Just then, a waiter appeared with a glass of ice water, which you drank down in one go, the cold helping to ground you.

As your friends continued their chatter, some heading to the bar, others to the dance floor, you stayed in Harry’s lap, drifting in and out of sleep with your head tucked into his neck.

“We can head home if you want, bunny,” Harry murmured, his hand gently rubbing up and down your back.

“No, I’m okay,” you protested sleepily, keeping your eyes shut as you snuggled deeper into him. “Let’s stay for a bit.”

Eve, Clara, and a few others returned, laughing as they took their seats around the table.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever seen fall asleep in a club with barely any alcohol in their system,” Eve said with a teasing smile.

You managed a sleepy chuckle. “I can’t socialize without a little buzz,” you admitted, blinking your eyes open for the first time in a while as you sat up.

“As long as we get you on the dance floor later, I don’t mind,” Clara said with a wink, sipping on her margarita.

"Speaking of socializing," Eve began, eyeing you playfully, "Do you remember that guy we met at Jolie’s art exhibit? Elijah?" You nodded, though your memory of him was hazy.

"Well," she continued, "he kind of asked if I could set you two up on a date... but I told him I’d check with you first. It’s totally your call."

Maybe it was the alcohol, or just the idea of finally getting laid after months of dry spells, but before you could think it through, your words came tumbling out.

"Sure, why not? I think I remember him being cute. Is he nice?" You caught Harry’s gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly as his jaw clenched.

"He’s a friend of Jolie and me from University," Eve said, her voice light. "He was closer to Jolie, but he’s sweet. Really into art and music. I think you’ll like him." Eve’s tone was upbeat, though the surprise among the other girls was palpable. You'd been known to avoid dating for months, and yet here you were, agreeing to a date in the blink of an eye. Without hesitation, Eve texted Elijah to let him know you'd accepted.

The next hour passed in a blur of laughter and bad jokes that were 10 times funnier thanks to the alcohol coursing through your system. After a couple more drinks, you, Eve, and Clara decided to hit the dance floor again.

"You’re coming with me?" you asked Harry, slinging your arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Not really feeling it," he bluntly replied. "But don’t let me stop you."

You pouted, leaning closer to him. "You can go home, if you’re done. We could go home together." Your lips kissed all over his face, guilt creeping in as your drunk brain wondered if you'd done something wrong.

"No, no, sweet thing, I’m good. Just haven’t had enough to drink to feel loose enough to show off my moves," he chuckled, planting a quick kiss on your head. "Go have fun."

With that, you strutted away, immediately getting lost in the rhythm of the music. You couldn’t help but notice each of you was drunkenly dancing to a different beat.

"Hey!! Elijah texted me back!" Eve shouted over the thumping music. "He wants to take you out tomorrow!"

"Sounds good!" you yelled back, not even pausing in your wild dancing. "Any time after five works for me!"

When your legs finally felt like they’d given all they could to the dance floor, the three of you retreated back to your private room.

"I can tell by your face that you’re getting tired again," Harry teased, his voice warm as he glanced over at you. You sat down next to him, leaning into his side. "Time to go home?"

You nodded, already feeling the weight of your headache catching up to you.

"Okay, let’s go, sweet thing." Harry helped you stand, offering you a smile.

As was the usual routine after a night out—one of you sober, the other tipsy—the sober one would drive the drunk one home. When you were both drunk, however, it became a game of scissor -paper-stone to see who’d get the front seat in the Uber.

He gently assisted you into his car, a sleek black Range Rover, securing your seatbelt as you leaned back, closing your eyes in quiet exhaustion.

When you arrived at his house, he was there again, unbuckling your seatbelt and guiding you to the door with steady care.

“I’ll grab you some water and Ibuprofen. Why don’t you head upstairs and get ready for bed?”

You nodded in gratitude, your body heavy with fatigue as you slowly made your way up the stairs. Once inside his room, you went straight to the dresser, where you always kept a few pairs of pajamas for nights like this.

In his bathroom, your extra face wash, moisturizer, and toothbrush were neatly arranged….maybe people weren’t wrong to wonder if there was something more going on between you two.

Your hangover symptoms the next morning are what woke you up, head pounding and nausea. You opened your eyes, seeing Harry sitting up next to you, reading his book, shirtless.

“What a beautiful site to wake up to.” You groggily joked.

Harry looked up from his book, a quiet laugh escaping his lips as he marked his place and set the book aside. His eyes softened as he noticed you, his hand gently your messy hair away from your face.

“How’s your head feeling?” he asked, his tone low and soothing.

You let out a groan in response, your mind scrambling for some semblance of clarity. Slowly, fragments of last night came rushing back. The dim, pulsing lights of the club. The laughter. The dancing. You winced at the ache in your feet, a silent reminder of how long you'd been on your feet. And then, a sudden, jarring memory surfaced—one that made your stomach churn in a different way.

“Wait… did I really agree to go on a date today?” You asked, barely believing it yourself.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle, his fingers still gently massaging your scalp as he looked at you with a mixture of affection and amusement.

“You did,” he said, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You groaned again, sinking deeper into the pillow, willing the world to stop spinning. “Jeez, I can’t even remember the last five minutes, let alone a date,” you muttered, half to yourself.

Harry’s chuckle turned into a laugh as he shifted closer to you, his thumb brushing lightly over your temple in a comforting rhythm.

"I think you’re going to be just fine," Harry teased, his voice still soft with affection. "But I’m not gonna lie... I am interested to see how this date goes. Since you've been avoiding dating for so long"

"Yeah, well, let’s just say I’m not expecting anything amazing," you sighed, stretching your arms above your head.

Later that day, you found yourself standing in front of your full-length mirror, nervously adjusting your outfit. You weren’t exactly thrilled about the date, but you didn’t want to look like you didn’t care either. You settled on a simple black dress—something that was easy but still flattering.

You took a deep breath. It wasn’t as if you had something better to do. You could always call Harry afterward to complain about how terrible it went.

You arrived at restaurant where Elijah had suggested you meet. It had that typical artsy vibe—exposed brick walls, vintage furniture, and food that probably cost more than it should have. As you walked in, you spotted Elijah immediately.

He looked up as you approached, a confident, almost smug smile spreading across his face. “Ah, you made it,” he said, standing to greet you.

"Of course," you replied, offering a smile.

"So, what do you like to do?" Elijah leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the table, his gaze more smug than ever. "What’s your thing? What are you into?"

The question hung in the air, a little too casually thrown at you. You hesitated for a moment, then smiled politely. "Well, I enjoy a bit of everything. Not really an expert in anything, though. I like books, music… anything creative, really."

He waved a hand dismissively, clearly not too interested in your response. “That’s nice. But honestly, I think everyone has their own version of what ‘creativity’ means. I think it’s just one of those things that gets watered down by society’s need to put things in boxes.”

You nodded, trying not to laugh at how seriously he was taking his own thoughts. The guy was talking in circles, as if he had an actual dissertation on his mind.

At some point during the evening, you realized that Elijah wasn’t going to ask about you or show any real interest in anything about your life. He kept dropping vague hints about how "complicated" he was, how misunderstood artists like himself had to suffer for their brilliance, and how he was just waiting for the world to catch up with him.

The only thing that really seemed to get him talking was his apparent admiration for himself.

Eventually, the awkwardness started to wear off, and he invited you to his apartment. Not that you were expecting anything from it—but you hadn’t been with anyone in a while, and the loneliness was starting to hit.

The two of you ended up sitting on your couch, sipping wine, your conversation moving toward more personal topics. It felt... comfortable, even though you knew it wasn’t exactly what you'd been hoping for. Still, you found yourself kissing him a little while later, your mind racing with that familiar nervous excitement.

Things moved quickly, and before you knew it, you were in his arms, both of you tangled up in each other in the dimly lit space of your apartment.

Time passed—minutes, hours, it was hard to tell. Eventually, you found yourself at the door, your dress wrinkled and your head spinning.

"Stay. Please," Elijah urged, his eyes softening slightly as he leaned in closer. “We could talk more. I really want to see you again.”

You bit your lip, your thoughts muddled. But, remembering the hours of excruciating conversation, you knew you needed to leave. "I have work in the morning," you said, even though it wasn’t true. The lie slipped out before you could even think about it.

Elijah’s face fell slightly, but he nodded. "Well, I guess that’s alright. But next time… Let’s make sure we have more time."

You smiled softly, but your mind was already elsewhere, already home and away from him.

You stepped out into the cool night air, pulling your coat tightly around your shoulders, feeling that familiar sense of discomfort slowly sink in. The date had been a total bust, and you couldn’t help but feel the sting of regret.

At home, after a quick shower to wash off the lingering feelings of awkwardness, you picked up your phone and texted Harry, hoping that he’d be up for a late-night rant.

"Can I come over to vent? This date was so annoying."

You didn’t have to wait long before his reply popped up. "Of course, pretty girl."

And so, you drove over, already thinking about how you were going to explain all the cringey moments to Harry, secretly hoping he wouldn’t say, “I told you so."

“You look like you had a blast,” Harry remarked dryly, opening the door for you.

You suppressed the urge to launch into a full rant. “Oh, yeah, great time,” you replied with equal sarcasm.

You both collapsed onto the couch— you sprawled out, Harry sitting up beside you like you were about to start a therapy session. Without missing a beat, you let the floodgates open.

“He literally talked about himself the entire time,” you began, voice dripping with frustration. “He asked me what I like to do, and as soon as I told him, he started lecturing me on his ‘interpretation of creativity.’ And it didn’t stop. For the entire date.”

Harry grinned, clearly entertained, as you continued your rant, eyes narrowing as you remembered every detail.

“And every conversation has to be this deep, philosophical, soul-searching dive— like, ‘We’re just floating on a ball in space,’ you know? The kind of thing you'd hear from the most insufferable kid in a first year psych class.”

You huffed, running a hand through your hair as the memory played in your mind. “Do you want me to continue?” You looked up at Harry. “It gets a little…18+.”

Harry's jaw slightly clenched, but he let out a chuckle. “Oh really? His personality wasn’t enough of a red flag?” He teased you, you burst out into laughter.

“Okay, okay, you have no right to judge, we’re both victims of making bad decisions when we’re horny.” You joked.

“Mm, I don’t know, I would’ve left after the ‘We’re just floating on a ball in space’ comment.”

“First of all, he didn’t actually say that…..that was just his vibe.” You corrected, both of you continuing to laugh. “And second of all, I KNOW you still would have slept with him, especially if you hadn’t been with anyone in four months.” You reminded him.

“Oh would I? No amount of horniness would have even made me go back to that type of person’s house.”

“You’re a liar. “ you said, dying of laughter. “Do I have to remind you of that girl you slept with, the one who kept saying ‘actually’ in front of very compliment, that you hated? ‘You’re actually funny. You’re actually kind of cute. You’re actually smart. What was her name? Lily? Lucy?”

“It was Laura.” He sheepishly corrected you

“And if I remember correctly, it wasn’t just one night, even after she described your sex as ‘actually good’, so I don’t want any judgment from you.” He surrendered, and let you continue.

“I’ll spare you the intimate details…I’ll just say, I didn’t necessarily leave satisfied.”

“Did you finish?”

“He finished. I didn’t.”

“Y/N.” He titled his head towards you in disbelief.

You stayed silent, almost trying to hide a smile out of embarrassment. He shook his head in disapproval.

“This is why I don’t go on dates. All I got was a shitty dinner and I still haven’t had a non-self inflicted orgasm in 4 months.”

He held his arm out as an invitation to invite you closer to him. Accepting his invitation, you leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder.

“Did you go home and…help yourself?” He asked, rubbing your back in consolation.

“No! I went home, took a shower, and then came straight here!” He chuckled, pulling you into his lap, making you straddle him.

“You don’t have to end the night unsatisfied,” he teased, his voice low with a playful edge.

“You promised no judgment,” you laughed, giving his shoulder a gentle shove. His silence, paired with the look in his eyes, made it clear he wasn’t entirely joking.

“I’m just saying... there’s an easy fix,” he replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Both of you laughed, though the underlying seriousness in your tones couldn’t be ignored.

“An easy fix? Like what?” you asked, your voice dropping slightly, the flirtation slipping into your words.

“Well, let’s say you wanted to,” He guided you off his lap, sitting you next to him. “You could lay down right here.”

You lowered your back onto the couch, your heart pounding harder than ever.

“Is this okay?” He clarified. You nodded and he continued. “I could come up here, make you feel better.” He crawled up to your neck, laying kisses along your neck, down to your collarbone.

He kneeled down on the ground in front of the couch. His hand shifted down to the button of your pants, slowly unbuttoning them and lowering them down your leg.

“You're in control here. Anytime you want to stop or do something else, you let me know, I want to make you feel good.” Your chest quickly moved up and down and you hummed in acknowledgment.

He grabbed your leg, placing it on one of his shoulders, kissing the other leg until he got to your inner thigh. Before he could continue you grabbed the ends of your top, quickly pulling it off to reveal your bra. Harry gave you a cheeky smile before he continued.

He kissed the insides of your thighs, sucking the delicate skin until a string of tiny purple bruises dotted your thighs.

“Please, Harry.” You whined in an impatient tone.

His eyes shot up to your face. “What do you need, sweet thing?”

“Everything. Your tongue. Your fingers. Please…please Harry.” The eagerness that had been building up in you for the past four months started to come up all at once.

“You need to learn patience, baby.” He teased you, lightly grazing his lips along your inner thigh. Finally, he grabbed your underwear and helped you out of them.

He planted his lips over your clit, expertly curling his tongue around the swollen area and flicking until your hips bucked. His arms curled around your thighs, pulling you to him and splaying a hand over your stomach to keep your hips still. He flattened his tongue against your clit to give you the pressure that you desperately craved.

“You’re so beautiful, bunny. So wet. Is this all for me?”

You hastily nodded, unable to speak.

Your hand tugged hard on his hair as his tongue worked delicately hard across your clit. Harry took one last look at your flushed face before moving his fingers at a punishing pace, driving you closer and closer to the edge. He could tell that you were holding back a bit, since you two had been friends for a while, yet this was your first interaction past a simple cuddle. He lifted his mouth from you.

“It’s alright, sweet thing. I got you, I want to make you feel good.”

He went back to pleasuring you, his ability to make you feel this good felt so natural. You focused on him, trying to push any nerves to the back of your head. His hand that rested on your stomach grabbed your hand, wrapping his fingers around your hand, giving you a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

A shudder rippled through your body and a deep moan erupted from your throat as you came around his fingers. Harry focused on you, helping you ride out your orgasm.

He climbed back up to you, sweeping your hair from your face and kissing your forehead, your nose, and your cheeks. “It’s okay, sweet baby.” He cood, your eyes stayed closed as you catched your breath.

You mindlessly pulled him closer to you, hiding your face in his neck, needing immediate aftercare after your powerful orgasm.

“Wanna go upstairs…an-help you.” You breathlessly begged, kissing his neck and lowering your hand down his abdomen.

“Okay sweet thing, let’s go upstairs.”

[read part two here!] [read a prequel blurb here!]

[lilium-snow]

Some more fanart for the upcoming VN There's Something Wrong With My Blind Date, featuring the MC's childhood best friend Pupillidae "Puppy" Cortez.

What an adorable wittle guy. I can't wait to see how he becomes completely unhinged, lol.

[gyuswhore]

Grease (the tragedy)

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.”

jeon wonwoo x reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut [minors DNI], fluff, angst, mechanic!wonu, annoyances to lovers, blind date gone wrong but then gone right, kissing, clit stuff, oral (f. rec), thigh fucking (oop), this all happens at a desk LMAO, title is a what I thought was a funny spin on how people say "grease (the musical)"....has nothing to do with the musical though but lots to do with actual grease!!!

synopsis: In which you have to sit through one of the worst dates of your life, followed by the insistent tug of fate and compulsion that lead you straight back to where you'd sworn you'd never go.

[a/n]: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY WIFE CAMOTHY @highvern everyone go say happy birthday to cam or ill appear in your room at night 🔫 anygays HAVE FUN READING THIS I hope this is all the sexy wonu content you wanted, I cant wait for your reaction hehehhehe

and also bigbigbigbig thank you to jessifer @the-boy-meets-evil for proofing this for me!!! ily heh

and and to everyone reading this who is not cam, I hope you enjoy reading mechanic!wonu as much as I liked writing him heheh PLS REMEMBER TO REBLOG AND TELL ME UR THOTS it could be in the tags, replies, an ask literally anything!!!! id love to hear what you guys think!!!!

masterlist

 [You]: do you think he died on the way [Liv]: hes still not there??? [You]: what do you think????? [Liv]: let me ask Amelia [You]: dont bother [You]: he can show up whenever he wants im leaving in 5 [Liv]: you promised you’d sit thru this!! [You]: sit thru what? an empty seat across from me???

Liv doesn’t respond immediately, and you immediately know she’s buggered off to ask her cousin why your date still wasn’t here. 

It’s not like you couldn’t have asked him yourself, the sparse textbox sitting just under Liv’s contact. You open it to inspect the contents. 

[liv’s cousin’s something]: Amelia gave me your number [liv’s cousin’s something]: friday night at the sage&salt at 7  [liv’s cousin’s something]: is that okay [You]: uh hey [You]: yeah that’s fine

Today 7:20 PM

[You]: im here?

The first thread of texts were enough to make you feel like this was some cold business meeting instead of a date, knowing wherever this would lead would be either the city dump or off a cliff. Liv was hearing none of it, taking the guilt tripping route, saying she’d already committed and her cousin was irritating enough even without a scuffle.

So when Friday evening came around you’d pulled on the first dress your fingers could find, took all of ten minutes fighting with your makeup to make it look like you did something and left the house with zero expectations. 

Despite that, as you see a man walk into the establishment dressed like he’d gotten into a fight with a squid and a paper shredder, you feel the stone in your chest tank into the abyss. Zero expectations, and he’s somehow managed to strike out anyway. 

The jacket looks like he’s put it on as a weak cover for the grime stains on his shirt and trousers, a couple jet black splatters across the outfit to really pull the whole thing together. It’s not like he looked homeless or anything, his face surprisingly handsome with his hair pushed away from his forehead. Although he remains looking like he’d been playing football in some neighbourhood parking lot before remembering he had an adult appointment too. 

You’d never seen the man in your life, but your gut told you this was the shit texter who’d kept you waiting for nearly an hour. He seems to notice too, eyes locking from across the restaurant as the waitress leads him to your table. 

“Wonwoo,” you greet with a difficult smile, half sure it came out as a grimace. “Right?”

“Yeah,” he huffs as he practically slams back down on the chair, and you wonder for a moment how the legs didn’t give out. He says your name and you nod. “Sorry I’m late, I got a call in the parking lot.”

He’s been in the parking lot this entire time?!

It’s like you’ve been doused in gasoline and lit on fire, yet somehow needing to give him a shaky reply anyway. 

“O–oh, I see.”

The waitress saves you from spitting in his face when she asks if you were ready to order. 

Dinner was off the table, as you discussed with Liv who forwarded it to her cousin to her–whoever it was that set up this god awful date–and agreed on dessert and perhaps a drink. 

“I’ll have the chocolate cake,” you request in an attempt to make this somewhat better. You consider for a moment before asking for a drink as well, “And a dry gin martini, please.”

“Um,” he staggers as he barely skims the menu, ultimately flipping it closed. “I’ll have the same, I guess.”

Deep voice. You might’ve liked that if you weren’t already so peeved. 

The waitress disappears with the menus, leaving you two alone for the first time. 

“So,” you start with an exhale. “How do you know Amelia?”

“Her husband.”

“I see.”

Silence. 

“How do you know her husband?”

He sighs like this is all inconveniencing him, and it irks you to an irrespective degree. Like you wanted to be here either. 

“He brings his car to the workshop alot, became friends somewhere along the line.”

“Workshop?”

He looks a little startled, cocking his head to the side. “I’m a mechanic? Did Olivia–was it–not tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

It’s silent yet again as the man across from you refuses to elaborate. You curse as you ask him a follow up question. If there was anything you hated more than shouldering a dead conversation, it was sitting through an awkward silence. 

One hour. You’d sit through this for one more hour and then you’d leave. 

“What kind of cars do you work on?”

“Expensive ones,” he answers. You might’ve kicked yourself if he’d ended it at that, but he continues with a purse of his lips. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it. Vintage pieces too.”

“Have I heard of it?”

“The cars?”

“No, I mean,” you let out a breath. “Your workshop.”

“Jeon Motors, just a couple streets down actually.”

You did know what he was talking about, not expecting to recognise it through the empty question, passing by it on multiple occasions in this part of the city.

“Oh, I’ve seen it a few times.”

“Yeah, we’ve been there for a while.”

“Family business?”

“Uh–sort of.” 

“Okay,” you sigh in an irritated laugh. This was going to be a very difficult hour. “Keep that to yourself too.”

“Is there a problem?”

Just as you lift your eyes to lock with his, a ready yes, there is actually a problem on your tongue, there’s an intrusion. 

“Here are your chocolate cakes,” the waitress places the cakes down, and then the drinks. “And your dry gin martinis. Do you guys need anything else?” By the time the waitress is gone you’ve somewhat forced yourself to put that sudden surge of flames out, to a degree at least. 

“Okay,” he sighs, grabbing his glass and downing nearly half the contents. He emerges, wiping a bit of a spill from the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get this out of the way.”

“Hm?” He’s speaking to you with a very weird surge of intensity, and it confuses you.

“Neither of us wanna be here. You’re clearly trying to be hospitable but I’d really rather you not, especially when we’re both doing this to get our respective ticks off our hides.”

There isn’t much you can do but stare at him. 

“Have I misjudged your advances?” he asks over his glass, sharp eyes piercing. 

“No!” you yelp, reaching for your drink yourself, taking big sips only to emerge sputtering and heaving. 

Your date looks like he’s rising out of his chair when you raise a hand to stop him. 

“No,” you repeat, less jumpy this time. “I guess we could’ve cleared that out from before.”

Did he…snort?

“Sorry.” Dropping his chin to his chest, he composes himself. 

“What?” you ask, remaining annoyed as ever. 

“Nothing.”

That does it. You slam your now empty glass down on the table, slipping your fork out of the napkin a little forcefully, the metal glinting in the light of the restaurant. You dig into a corner of the cake and shove it in your mouth. 

If he was gonna be rude, you could be too. 

“I don’t know about hospitable.” You swallow. “But I assumed not being an ass was kind of an unwritten rule for any situation really. Including the ones you’d rather not be in.”

Wonwoo stares at you with a blank face, his cake untouched. “I’m being an ass. My laugh couldn’t have offended you that much.”

“So you did pick that up,” you comment. “With the way this conversation’s going I would’ve thought it flew right over your engine.”

“I’d argue your laugh was the least offensive thing you’ve done tonight.” You plunge your fork into your cake again. “But clearly we’re in different realms of etiquette.”

Your eyes meet the rough stains on his attire, and then his own that bore into yours like a challenge. The cake isn’t too sweet, rich just the right amount and texturally sound. Maybe something good did come out of this fiasco. 

“Okay fine,” he announces, sitting up straighter. “I apologise.”

“For laughing?”

“And for being obscenely late.”

“And?”

“And…” he genuinely looks like he’s struggling to figure it out, but catches your eyes flickering to his tattered and stained outfit. “And for my entirely inappropriate dressing sense. You’ll have to forgive me for that one, oil and grime are my spoils of war.”

“Wear it like a badge, mister mechanic, but perhaps somewhere it’s appreciated.” 

Wonwoo has already finished his drink, his cake remaining untouched. “You’re quite adamant on disliking me.”

“And you’re quite adamant on being a horrid conversationalist.”

The corners of his mouth lift the slightest bit. Opening his mouth to respond, you cut him off. “Cars don’t talk? Or perhaps, machines are easier to understand?”

“More like I don’t care to be personable.”

“That can’t be good for business.”

“The cars speak for themselves.”

He’s a weird one. Even more so when he offers to pay the entire bill, promising you he wasn’t lying when he said he was good at what he does, and to “make up for lost personality points.” You manage to pay your half anyway, considering the circumstances. 

“Can you at least let me drive you home?” Wonwoo asks as you both step out of the establishment soon after. 

“Depends.” You fix the strap of your bag. “Will it fall apart on the highway?”

The blaring white of the restaurant's outdoor lights backlight Wonwoo to make him look like some sad angel. He turns to you, the same slight smirk that seems to be plastered on his face. “Why don’t you find out?”

“What do you mean sell it? I got this thing a year ago!” 

There isn’t much you can do but sigh loudly as you listen to Olivia talk about the state of her car, the one that cost too much to justify but she seemed to use and abuse like a very replaceable toy truck. 

Leaning against the hood of the darn thing, you talk to her. “The dealership is giving you a shit deal to take it off your hands, you might as well try your luck.”

The look on her face is easy to read as she silences. Not convinced in the slightest, waiting for the conversation to end just so she could figure it out on her own. Sighing loudly, you look back to the dark beauty with a crate of issues that make it spit and sputter to a stop every few weeks. 

“How much did you say the repairs cost again?”

“Enough to put me on food stamps,” she whines through her frustration, tears pricking against her eyes as they glisten under the neighbourhood streetlights. “Why are you smirking like that?!”

“It’s just,” you pause as you consider your next words, pressing your lips together. “This is a little bit your fault.”

Lies, it was entirely her fault. 

Liv stares like you’ve just offended her, which you’re sure you have.

“Care to share how this possible bankruptcy could be my fault?"

“Because you drive the thing like you have a secret reserve buried somewhere in Tenerife.”

“My apologies for making a habit of not being a public nuisance and going forty on a national highway.”

“Your speed-o-metre is not the issue here.”

“Yes, of course, everything’s my fault.”

“Liv, please!” You groan loudly. “Just…let’s try putting up a listing tomorrow. Consider the prospects and you can decide from there.”

Sagging her shoulders and stretching her neck, Liv decides to simply trudge back indoors in silence. You take it as a begrudging yes, and follow her inside. 

That very night, when you were at the very cusp of falling into the dark space of sleep, your brain re-awakens before your eyes do. A jolt as the memory comes back to you of the many months ago, sitting in that restaurant across from a man who was too handsome for the personality he seemed to sire. 

“Expensive ones,” he had said. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it.”

How fitting. 

“Are you going to explain or should I explode instead?” 

You’d mentally prepared for the bombardment of accusations from Liv, her questioning perfectly right as you yourself cringed at the thought of showing your face here of all places. The one last one that’d officially banned her from ever setting you up with an individual of her choosing ever again. 

Hearing only silence as her answer, she appeals; “I thought he was the worst date of your life.”

“Nothing to do with his skills as a mechanic,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact. 

“And everything to do with this being a horrible idea anyway!” Liv stares up at the sign on top of the garage. Jeon Motors. “What makes you think this guy can fix my car?”

What did make you think he could fix Liv’s car? If you’d known you might have given her an answer, but as you stare at the giant signboard that you’ve driven past for longer than you can remember, you can’t help but feel this place has been haunting you. Just a little. 

You can’t help but feel the tingle of goosebumps rise on your skin, the hairs across the expanse standing up at the thought of walking inside. There was no way you could differentiate the reaction from plain nerves or from the cringing drills that sound all the way outside the establishment. Regardless, you make an attempt to look confident as you make your strides into the pungent of the workshop. 

The first thing you note is how…clean everything is. Cleaner than any other workshop you’ve walked into anyway. 

The interior is bigger than it looks from the outside, the ginormous hall hosting about a dozen cars within your eyeshot alone. One side of the great hall holds an array of parked cars in different stages of dismantled and deconstructed, while the other side is lined with contraptions that look like stripped and enlarged elevators. 

Once you’ve inhaled a beyond recommended amount of smoke fumes and listened past all of the clanging, banging and sparks, you register the people that are elbow deep in the hoods of the vehicle they’re working on, enough to leave you and Liv standing at the entrance of an establishment that you can barely make sense of. 

“Can I help you?” A man in stained beige overalls approaches your wide eyed pair, face half covered in his baseball hat and hands occupied with a rag. 

To your slightest dismay, it isn’t the man you’re looking for.

“Uh– is Wonwoo here?” you ask. 

“He’s in a meeting right now. Are you a friend?” 

No, just a failed love interest.

“He,” you falter. If you weren’t a friend…then what were you? “He gave me his card.”

“Do you need help with your car?”

“Mine, actually,” Liv pipes. “It’s outside if you wanna take a look first.”

With one sweeping look across the warehouse, your eyes land on one of the few doors on the left. You register the plain look of it for barely a moment before joining Liv outside. 

By the time her car has been rolled and parked inside for a more thorough inspection, it’s taken you every last grain of your willpower to not stalk back out and wait in your car. For whatever reason, you can’t help but feel a very familiar spasm of irritation spark through you. Here you are, left anxiously waiting for the same man for a second time, merely feet away but remaining occupied with more important things. 

At the very least, the multiple hands prodding around the car’s engine were being somewhat of use, attempting to survey the same issues that had been looked at about a dozen times before. You silently promise to be a better person if this trip wouldn’t be for vain.  

“Am I late for something again?” 

Your throat is suddenly clogged as you open your mouth and no sound graces your presence. The face that meets you has his eyebrows raised as he stares at you in expectation, a ghost of a smile on his face. 

“W–Wonwoo, hi, um.” You clear your throat loudly, heat cursing your cheeks. “No, of course not.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure after…four months?” he asks, hands on his hips and his back straightened.

“I…my friend’s car needed to be looked at so…”

“Ah, of course!” He turns to where you’ve motioned, looking at the popped hood of the car his employees are working on. “I’ll take a look at it myself, don’t worry about it.”

He’s already walking away, towards the car and leaving you a ways away from the action. You stare at his back; the overalls tied at the waist and the stained white T-shirt that clings to his form from the humidity.

Wonwoo remains a man of a few words, and you remain at wits end about it all. 

A loud honk gives you something to do as you jump at the sound so up close, scrambling to move away from the smack centre as another car pulls into the garage. 

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.” Wonwoo snickers from his place hunched over the hood as he cranes his neck to look at you. 

You walk over to where he is to get out of the way. “Was that meant to sound like an innuendo?”

“I was talking about the occasional running over someone’s foot,” he answers. “Not sure what you were thinking.” 

Ignoring the jab, you note that it was now only you and him crowding the car, “Where’s Olivia?”

“Went to look at spare parts.” You watch him as his gloved hands reach further into the enclave and yank at something hard. 

“So you can fix it?” 

“The car? It’ll take a couple days but it’s not really an issue.”

Furrowing your brows, you press on, “But the dealership—”

“Dealerships are the spawn of the devil,” he grunts as he finally wrenches out a spare nut or bolt or something that’s covered in oil. “Let me guess, they wanted her to sell it back to them?”

It’s your turn to raise your brows. “Yes. They tried fixing it, but it'd just stop again.”

“Because they’ve been fixing the symptoms.” He raises his eyes to meet yours, hands occupied with rubbing the part in his hands relatively clean with a rag. “They haven’t bothered to do anything about the actual problem.” 

“Because that’s gonna cost…?”

“Couple hundred, give or take,” he announces nonchalantly, turning his focus back to the engine. 

“But—” That’s it?

“Fifty extra for every question I have to answer after this.” You briefly wonder if Wonwoo’s eyes were always this piercing, boring into your soul like he didn’t need words to know what was going on with you. 

“Fine,” you huff, moving to drag a chair over, mostly just so you could have reason to break eye contact, and plop down as you watch him work. 

The more you think about it, the more you can find yourself unbothered by his strange behaviour. He wasn’t bleak, but nowhere near one of the more interesting people you’ve met. Taking the opportunity to really scan the man head to toe, you can’t say you find anything truly concrete to be this put off by him. 

Not much of a talker, but with the times you’ve prayed for a man that knew when to shut up sometimes, you wonder how much you can actually complain about this boon in particular. 

Besides, he was a looker, and you were completely content shutting your trap if it meant you got to shamelessly ogle at him from this close. 

“You know, this place looks bigger than it does from the outside.”

Wonwoo stares pointedly. 

You raise a shoulder in nonchalance, “Wasn’t a question!”

He simply huffs as he mumbles, “More length than breadth I suppose.”

“What are those things called?” you ask as you watch a sedan get lifted into the on some platform on the other end of the row. 

Glancing back, he answers, “Post lift, car lift, whatever you wanna call it.”

“What does it do?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Touché.” 

Glancing back at him, you catch sight of his stained shirt once again. “Is that the same thing you wore to our date?”

Chin to chest, he registers what he’s wearing, hands still working on pulling bolts and boxes out of the hood. “Have about twenty of the same shirt, I can never be too sure.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirks, “Touché.” 

You questioned if this was a mistake. 

Olivia could pick up her car herself, so why did you insist to be the one that did it? As you pay the taxi driver, you feel your ankles lock for a moment as you move to slip out of the cab. Frozen, you hear the driver ask you if everything was alright, to which your legs seem to work again, finally foot to gravel in front of the dreaded workshop.

The Jeon Motors sign blares the same as it always has in the afternoon light, glinting as it encourages you to walk in and do one of the stupider things you’ve done in life. Other than the ridiculous outfit you’ve put on, of course. 

But alas, as you hand over your slip to one of the many mechanics in the workshop, you find yourself praying he wasn’t here after all, that perhaps you could miss him as you leave and never have to see him again. 

Somebody yells out his name, and the dream drifts away like smoke. 

Finding the courage, you look up to where the man shouted for him, and immediately wish you hadn’t. 

Wonwoo remains in his overalls, the same ones that he had tied to his waist the last time you saw him. His undershirt however…

The tank top is revealing too much for you to pretend you don’t care, his hair remaining pushed back and away from his forehead as he walks over to you in what feels like slow motion. He takes the slip that he does not need, smiling at you as he says his hellos. 

“Car’s all fixed up, just need some papers that need signing and you’re all set.”

“Oh, but Liv isn’t here today.”

“That’s alright, you can sign them too,” he reassures, motioning for you to walk with him towards the car. “The car was alright in the test drives, revving hasn’t caused any problems either.”

He halts in front of the now (supposedly) fixed black sedan and pats the hood lightly, “If anything happens tell her to bring it straight here, although it shouldn’t have any more problems.”

“What’s your rate of return on customers?” you ask, a slight smirk on your face.

He thinks for a moment, “Pretty crap. But I guess that means I’m doing something right.”

You consider yourself something of a helicopter parent when it comes to your own car, but perhaps you’d change that if it meant you’d get to come here a little more often. 

Goodness, what’s gotten into you.

Wonwoo’s smiling too, and for a brief moment the silence is nearly awkward. A pause before he proposes leaving. 

“Shall we go to the office then?” 

Nodding eagerly, you trail behind him as he leads you towards the other end of the workshop, passing by even more cars in all their stripped or constructed glory. Glancing in front, you catch sight of Wonwoo’s back, ensnared for a moment before you snap your head away, reciting every curse word you know like a mantra. 

“It’s less hot in here too, keep the air on all the time.” Wonwoo stands in front of the plain doors, hands on the handle to wrench it open. You recognise it as the same door you had noted a few days ago. “Would you like anything? Coffee, tea?”

“Um, just water is fine, thanks.”

It’s quite plain, beige and leather against cream walls and unfittingly white lights. There’s a desk on one corner that’s beyond cluttered with more papers than you can register, pens and other office supplies mixed into the disorganised chaos of the large tabletop.

“Sorry about the mess, I can never find time to sort through it.” To your surprise, the light tinge of his cheeks suggest he might actually feel a little embarrassed. 

Cute. 

There’s cabinets that line on one of the far walls, and you watch him take his gloves off to open it and reach for a cup. The white porcelain emerges stained with an ashy grey as his fingers betray him. He looks flustered, glancing at his hands and back up to the cabinet. 

You can’t help but laugh a little, moving forward to help. “It’s alright, let me.”

“Sorry,” he apologised again, with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll, um, wash this off.”

“Go on, I’m here,” you reassure as you move towards the water dispenser in the corner to fill your clean cup. 

He returns with significantly cleaner hands and apologises one last time. “Seems all I do around you is apologise.”

You have the good humour to chuckle, “So I’ve noticed.”

He does well to clear out most of the clutter that’s on his desk, leaving enough room to set down a few pieces of paper as you take a seat on the opposite side. 

As you scan through the papers, he attempts to make sober conversation. “You should…bring your car around for inspections if you want.”

“Oh? Even if I ask a million questions?”

“I can make an exception or two,” he grins. 

“And if you charge me double?”

“Might not charge you at all.”

“Might?” you question as you lift the pen he’d given you to sign the first space. 

“Might.”

“And what’re the conditions for that?” 

He doesn’t answer as he ponders and you fill in the second blank. “I’ll have to think about that.”

You snort before you can help it, your last signature coming out a little wonky as your hands shake. Turning the papers over to him, you continue, “Well then, let me know when you figure it out.”

He stares pointedly as he accepts the papers before dropping his eyes again, “Can I?”

“Hm?”

“Can I? Let you know?” 

It’s like you’ve been frozen over, the typewriter in your mind jamming as it punches out the implications of what he’s saying. 

“It seems, at least to me, that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he continues. 

You hesitate. “I think so too.”

“I…I don’t want to put anything like pressure on you but–” 

“Would you like to try the new gelato place downtown this week?” you ask finally as you save him from his misery. “If…you’d like.”

He looks stunned for a moment before he’s scrambling, “Oh–of course! Yes, anytime is fine with me.”

“Great,” you smile, lifting from your seat. “It’s a date.”

“I’ll promise to wash my hands this time…and my shirt. And I won’t be late.” 

“Let’s not make promises we can’t keep,” you tease. 

You’re nearing the door as he follows behind, and just as you’re about to pull down on the handle, you hear him say your name. 

Turning around, almost too eagerly, you look up at him in expectation. He’s close, almost right behind you as he looks like he’s debating whether opening his mouth is a good idea. 

“Are you doing anything else today?” 

“Um,” you stutter for a moment. “I don’t have to drop off the car till later tonight, that’s all really.”

He swallows. “Do you wanna stay? Just a little while. We can stay in here, nobody comes in anyway.”

You aren’t entirely sure why you said yes, because you did actually have dinner plans with Liv later tonight, but the teeny tiny voice in your mind egged you on anyway. Besides, Liv wouldn’t mind, not if you were cancelling for this.

This entailed the very friendly contact of Wonwoo’s tongue in your mouth, and the extremely cordial way it seemed to caress your insides. If somebody asked you how it led to this, you don’t think you’d have an answer. Not that you care, especially when his hands are grabbing your waist and hips like that.

He’s already locked the door, reassuring you that nobody would find their boss and client in the smack dab middle of the devil’s tango. You take his word for it, relishing in the way his hot breath hits your skin below your ears, his mouth sucking under your earlobes as you whimper ever so quietly. 

Your hands are on his exposed biceps, feeling him up all to your heart's content. “Do you–Do you always wear stuff like this?”

He emerges, wet lipped and eyes trained. “So I wasn’t imagining it.”

“Imagining what?” you ask as you let him unbuckle your trousers.

“Please. Like you weren’t stripping me with your eyes.”

If you were warm before you, you're boiling up now. Were you being so obvious?

“It’s alright,” he reassures as you feel his fingers make contact with the crotch of your panties, pushing in to put pressure on your clit. “Wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t picked up on it.”

You feel his fingers push the dampening fabric away as his fingers make contact with your hole, coating his fingers in the arousal that’s made itself known. It’s hard to not hiss at the way he begins to circle it, thanking the universe that the loud noises of the workshop outside were masking whatever evidence of the heinous crime you were committing inside. 

Back against the couch in his office, you settle into the cushions once you feel him rub at your clit, one hand spreading your lips apart as he continues to massage your own wetness onto your throbbing cunt. 

When he retreats you almost cry out, but are smothered when he plunges two fingers into your hole instead, curling them almost immediately inside you. The consistent brush of the tips of his fingers on your walls are making it difficult to keep your eyes open, and absolutely impossible to keep your moans at bay. 

“Wonwoo, that’s so good, fuck.”

Through your closed eyes, you don’t note when Wonwoo gets on his knees. But you do feel him yank your trousers off entirely, and you definitely feel him place his wet mouth flush on your lower lips, sucking at your clit as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you mercilessly. 

That’s all it takes for your noises to become increasingly high pitched, hands buried in his beautiful hair as he continues to pleasure you beyond imagination. 

“I’m so close, keep going, please, it feels so–”

He somehow buries his face in deeper, sucking harder, licking faster, and it’s enough for you to finally feel yourself collapsing on the inside, your composure dissolving as you moan so loud you’re sure they can hear it outside, even through all the clanging and revs of cars. 

There’s no way for you to know how long you lay there slumped against the couch cushions, but when you hear Wonwoo speak to you in your ear, you answer. 

“Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you say as you grab his face and pull his lips to yours, tasting the tang in his mouth from your arousal. “Do you have a condom?”

“I–fuck,” he thinks for a moment. “I don’t think I do.”

You try not to feel too disappointed, but you sigh into his mouth anyway. 

“Can I fuck your thighs?” you hear him ask, and you might have just orgasmed again, untouched. 

“Fuck, yes you can.” 

With a yelp, you feel yourself lifted off the couch as you wrap your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, letting him guide you to his desk. “Wonwoo!”

You hear a loud crash of the desk being stripped of all its inhabitants, and your back hitting the cool of the table top. 

Wonwoo unties the arms of his overalls around his waist, letting the legs pool to the floor before slipping his hard cock out of his boxers. 

You don’t see it as you feel him lock your knees together and lift both your calves to rest on one of his shoulders. But you do feel it as he pushes the head into the seam of your thighs, watching the indent as the pink of his dick appears before you through the skin of your thighs. 

Wonwoo’s face is contorted as he pulls back and pushes back through again, this time brushing against your still sensitive clit. You gasp at contact, and immediately feel him thrusting faster. 

“Wonwoo,” you grunt. “Lower.”

He obliges, pushing his dick lower so it can rub flush against your clit as he begins to roughen up his pace. 

You moan as you feel his free hand that isn’t holding your legs trail to the ends of your shirt, caressing over your stomach to pull it up and reveal your bra clad tits. He pushes his hands under the nearest cup and begins to grope you so wonderfully with his big, warm hands. Rolling the bud between his fingers, you can only grasp onto his wrists as a handheld to keep you down on earth. 

The desk beneath you is rattling with noise, the full drawers making themselves known as Wonwoo pounds into your thighs like he would die if he stopped, mouth coming in contact with whatever skin of your legs he could reach, his breath fanning the side of your knees. 

You’re close again, and you know he is too with the way his thrusts are beginning to grow sloppy. 

“There,” he pants. “Almost.”

You orgasm for the second time, the throb your clit beyond comprehension as the rough of his dick slides across your clit mercilessly. 

“Cum like this, Wonwoo please I need to see you cum.”

And he does, shooting the heft of his load to cover your already wet cunt and thighs, landing on your stomach as he continues to ride out his high between your legs. 

The back of your head hits the table as you take in gulps of air through the aftermath of it all. Wonwoo is putting his weight on the back of your thighs, holding onto the table for support. 

“Oh, Liv is never gonna let me live this down,” you pant, lolling your head to one side as you register him. 

He peers up at you through his hair, the stupid smirk on his face, “Do you care?”

You’re smiling a little too when you answer, “Not really.”

And then your legs are off his shoulders as he nestles between them instead, diving in to lift your head and kiss you. 

And you let him, although you wouldn’t really call it too much of a kiss—not when the both of you were smiling like idiots through the clash. 

[kerokeeces]

ENHYPEN SFW hyung line fanfic recs!

who am I? im just silent reader who enjoys fics and want to help others find some of my favorites! srry im hee + hoon biased so most are about them

short fic - 1-5k words long fic - 5k+

HYUNG LINE

the look of love by @won4kiss - (how they look at you when they’re blinded by their love) - short fic

low power mode by @sungbeams - (when you get overwhelmed while you're out together) - text msgs

just a bet by @all4yoi - (after a few months of dating, you find out you were just a bet.) - short fic

HEESEUNG

sing me a song by @senascoop - (when you can't fall asleep and heeseung tries to help by singing you a song) - short fic

race to your heart by @coqhee - (lee heeseung who's always been a pro at racing takes on a change of pacing ; racing for your heart.) - long fic

uh oh im falling in love by @won4kiss - (you and heeseung have been rivals for as long as you could remember, constantly competing for the top spot in school—basically everything. living next door to each other only added to the fire, the tension between you, especially when heeseung’s cocky aura never seems to waver. but one single encounter shifts the entire dynamic, leading to confusing emotions arising, jealousy, and new surprising revelations. what happens when rivalry starts to feel like it’s growing into something more?) long fic

a stoner's guide to starbucks by @jayflrt - (in which you work at the starbucks where heeseung is a regular at (and considered a public enemy). also he only goes when he’s stoned off his ass.) - smau series

she knows her sour patch kids by @allforhee - (living under the protective eyes of your older brother, park sunghoon, he thinks he knows you the best. but litte does he know that heeseung knows you love your sour patch kids more than you love his usual swedish fish.) - short fic

win one win me by @jaylver - (who knew being angry and impulsive can get the captain of the hockey team to notice you? cussing them out when they were losing wasn't the best idea, but it definitely made lee heeseung's head turn, leading to him making a deal with you to win a game in order to get your number. but that wasn't enough for him, he was determined to make you his.) - long fic

from screens to scenes by @enreveriee - (you decide to give online dating a shot but have never met your boyfriend in person, nor do you even know what he looks like. when your friends pressure you into finally asking him out for a real-life date, things take a surprising turn. what you expected to be a simple meetup becomes an adventure filled with unexpected twists.) - long fic

taste of life by @mygnolia - (heeseung is invisible to everyone, robbed of recognition as people pass through and never acknowledge him. to live as a shadow who observes is hard—heeseung sinks into corners and simply wishes for a chance to be a part of something. but when you finally come to the biggest halloween party of the year and see him, he can’t help but be attached.) - short fic

bring the heat by @kairoot - (y/n has always disliked heeseung, the arrogant rising star of the racing scene. she especially dislikes him when he beats her brother in the city’s street racing round and takes it upon herself to do a rematch and race him. but when she gets herself stuck in a predicament, her enemy is the only one who can save her. maybe there’s more to heeseung than just his big ego.) - short fic

bjoux by @okikeu - (The fashion industry is difficult, so when the CEO of Korea's finest, luxury fashion brand, Le Désir, loses the most important ambassador of her career, her life is pretty much over. That is, until she finds a face that makes her previous fumble look like a simple marketing scheme.) - smau series

cliches are okay by @chogiwow - short fic

JAY

how you get the girl by @jaylver - (Beach parties are supposedly fun and exciting, aren’t they? Wrong. Experiencing college parties is rare for you, but you decided to give this one a go after your best friend’s constant pleas. Things were alright until everything turned sour when trouble found you and eventually you were roped into a fight alongside the campus’ famous hockey playboy. As if that wasn’t enough, the devil himself conjured up an idea that you found yourself being entangled in. It was all fun and games up until confusion arose, feelings being confessed and played, in the end, Jay had to learn how to get the girl, his girl.) - long fic

white corvette and lipstick by @okwonyo - (waiting for the cab with your boyfriend in the night.) - short fic

pictures enhypen send you of bf!jay by @ddksoo - fake texts

fast forward by @asahicore - (After yet another romantic disappointment in the form of one Jake Sim, you go to the well you’ve always believed to grant wishes and ask for your one and true love to appear. That night, you go to sleep in your bed but wake up in a strange house. When you head downstairs, you find a man washing the dishes and telling you your favorite meal is waiting on the table for you. You’ve spent hours glaring at the back of that head, you could recognize it anywhere—it belongs to none other than Park Jongseong, your high school sworn enemy… and future husband, or so it seems.) - long fic

JAKE

bed chem by @cupidhoons - (your friend sets you up with a cute aussie boy at her party) - short fic

texts with bestfriend!jake by @silquids - text msgs

found you by @whjluv - (jake is very well known and loved by everybody on campus. equally popular was his relationship with the captain of the volleyball team, haneul. even more popular, sadly, is his breakup after more than a year. the months following the event take a significant toll on jake, who becomes unrecognizable. his once sweet, friendly and pure nature is replaced by a constant gloomy and somber aura. what happens when this new version of jake sim unexpectedly clashes with a very straightforward and quite intimidating member of the school’s podcast?) - long fic

SUNGHOON

deep honey by @paarksunghoon - (the last thing you want to do is interrupt sunghoon’s time with his friends, but your doting boyfriend has always said he’ll be there whenever you need him. when a shift at work leaves you hanging by a thread, he and his friends are there to patch your soul back up.) - short fic

cafeteria confessions by @reinahwanggg - (everyone thinks you're dating your childhood best friend sunghoon. well, everyone including sunghoon because he confessed to you almost a year ago and you didn't exactly know it was a confession because of how casually he said it.) - short fic

sunghoon with a crush on you by @woniecore - smau

get well soon by @senascoop - (You’ve always considered yourself a good person—kind, forgiving, and patient. But Sunghoon tested every bit of that. One reckless, drunken drive was all it took for him to flip your life upside down, leaving you temporarily confined to a wheelchair. The inconvenience was more than just physical; it was a wound to your pride and independence. Sunghoon, however, refused to walk away from his mistake. Guilt-ridden and determined to make amends, he became a constant presence in your life—covering your medical bills, offering you emotional support, and sticking around even when you wished he wouldn’t.) - long fic

love on air by @pshbites - (two podcast groups, both equally popular on the internet, start interacting with one another. however it isnt how fans want it to be.. OR yn sees sunghoon hating on lauryn hill and accidentally starts an entire fanwar with him.) - smau series

the 24-hour dating challenge by @jaeyunverse - (being a famous youtuber isn’t easy, especially when you have to constantly come up with new ideas to keep your audience entertained. and this time, your viewers want you to date park sunghoon, your best friend of nearly a decade, for the entirety of 24 hours.) - long fic

[sehodreams]

fanta grape

TW and tags: threesome (late poly?), cheating, dubious consent (from smoking and drinking), toxic!Seunghan.

WC: 6.8K (okay we getting better at making shorter stuff)

Summary: Seunghan doesn’t need a clingy girlfriend, but Anton and Wonbin do.

Comment: I did say that pretty boys with fried hair were my weakness. I think the images make this look darker than what it really is, sorry if you expect something heavy dark, this is not it (except for Seunghan’s toxic behaviour).

7:30 PM was too early to give up.

You shifted in your seat, trying to concentrate on another thing that wasn’t the hour, how the light of the TV was slightly blinding you in the dark room, and how the skin under your thighs was sweating.

Half an hour before you had told yourself that nothing would make you leave without having a proper conversation with your boyfriend, but he not being there hadn’t crossed your mind, and you were just so relieved that his friends hadn’t asked you to leave, that the possibility of Seunghan not coming back with the knowledge of you being there just started to settle in.

Anton was already choosing a movie from the big carton box in Wonbin’s living room when you arrived, and Wonbin was picking a few beers when he saw you from his window, grabbing a fanta grape for you, perfectly knowing why you were standing there on his doorstep at 7PM.

Looking at the movie, between your boyfriend’s friends on each side, you tried to remind yourself why you were there.

Seunghan had dated you for almost half a year, he’s been your first everything, your first date, your first confession, your first boyfriend and your first orgasm, and everything was good, so you didn’t get why the sudden change with him.

Well, not everything was good, but didn’t all couples have problems? Why would he act so differently after some discussions and a few refusals?

It’s been days since the last time he answered one of your calls, and his messages were getting shorter and shorter, leaving you on read for hours and only answering when he knew you were asleep.

Sorry, been busy.

What kind of excuse was that?

You decided to have a talk with him to fix things, perhaps you weren’t paying enough attention to other signals, or perhaps he was getting tired of you not being able to go to his gigs and wait for him when he practised, but he knew how was your family when you started, so why was he suddenly pushing you to do things he perfectly knew you couldn’t?

‘’Can you call him again?’’ you asked Anton for the third time.

You didn’t dare to look him in the eyes while making that question again, but Seunghan wasn’t answering any of your calls, and you didn’t know what else to do, he had at least answered the first time Anton called him when you arrived.

You didn’t have to say anything for him to grab his phone and mark Seunghan’s number when you arrived.  ‘’She’s here’’ he had said, and he had tried to pass you the phone, but Seunghan had ended the call before you could talk.

Still, even having bothered him enough after that first call, Anton did it, he called him, and to prove he was doing it, he showed you how his name appeared on his screen, ringing a couple of times before the woman’s voice saying you could leave a message, and that you knew a bit too well by that point, started.

Seunghan was declining the calls of his friends now.

You shifted on your seat, looking down at your hands and the drops of the cold can fall over your uncovered thighs.

Feeling stupid, you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to hold back your tears to not show how much you were hurting in front of the boys.

‘’Baby, what’s wrong?’’ Wonbin asked, looking at your shoulders get smaller and you blinking the tears away.

He knew what was wrong, everyone knew.

‘’Seunghan is seeing someone else, right?’’ you asked back, hands gripping the metallic object in your hands, leaving dents on it, and making your fingertips change from the reddish lively colour they always had to a pale one.

Both stayed silent.

‘’I’m so stupid’’ you sourly laughed, drinking the rest of your fanta.

Anton stood up to grab you another one, you knew it, but shaking your head you asked for a beer instead.

‘’But you hate it’’ he replied.

‘’Anton, I’ve been abandoned, could you please give me a beer?’’ you said, hurt, and as polite as always.

‘’Try mine’’ Wonbin offered, putting his bottle in front of you and surprising you, but resting your hand over his holding the drink, you accepted that he maintained it in the air for you, moved it closer to your mouth and tilted it for you to drink it.

It tasted terrible, you didn’t understand why they all drank it like water, you didn’t see the point of getting drunk, and usually, when you went out with them, you ended up being the one taking care of your boyfriend at parties instead of the other way around, like he usually promised before he made you sneak out.

Feeling even sadder, you moved his hand higher and drank a bigger gulp of that beer with earthy flavour.

Making a face at the end, and pushing Wonbin’s hand away, you didn’t want to say out loud how bad it tasted so Anton didn’t say an I told you that reminded you of your dad every time you made a mistake, like dating Seunghan.

Anton gave you another can of your fanta grape and sat with crossed arms, focusing on the TV again to not make you conscious.

‘’Thank you’’ you said, and he nodded.

‘’Just drink what you want, we buy that stuff for you anyways’’ Anton said later.

You felt piteous, and trying to brush the awkward moment you put yourself on, when your eyes saw Wonbin’s stash on the TV stand, you interrupted them again.

‘’Why aren’t you smoking?’’ you asked purely out of curiosity.

They used to always share a joint after they finished playing the same five songs they had an entire afternoon, and the first times they had even invited you to smoke with them, or well, Seunghan did, until Wonbin told him to leave you alone if you didn’t want to.

You didn’t like to stay there for long for that reason, you wouldn’t do anything at all, yet you felt like an uninvited guest sitting and limiting them with your presence because of all the things you couldn’t do, afraid of making them hate you every time you walked there with Seunghan pulling you by the hand.

‘’I thought you hated when the smell stayed on your clothes’’ Wonbin replied, and it wasn't a guess, he had heard you telling it to Seunghan when he tried to convince you that a hit wouldn’t hurt you.

You didn’t hate it solely because of that, you hated that it was an aroma hard to mask, and your dad was not as hard on you as he was before, but you still trembled every time you arrived at your house after spending an afternoon with a high Seunghan, afraid of your dad thinking that you were the one smoking it, and the consequences you would have to face.

You hated when Seunghan tried to force you onto things he knew would put you in a lot of trouble, it was nice that he had pushed you to do certain things you wouldn’t have dared until you met him, like wearing skirts, buying makeup and going to parties, but you had explained your reasons in detail for not smoking, and he had continued insisting.

Still, you never expected them all to not smoke for something you had told your boyfriend in supposed secret.

‘’That didn’t stop you before’’ you answered, taking another sip of your soda and trying to brush off the sudden blush on your cheeks, maybe you were overthinking it, you tried to tell yourself, why would they do something like that for you when they weren’t even something yours? They were your boyfriend’s friends, and nothing else, ‘’you can smoke if you want, don’t mind me’’.

Frowning, you let the new can rest over your thighs, and feeling the intense coldness bring you back to the moment, you saw how Anton didn’t waste a single second to light a joint up, happy to finally do something with his mouth now that he had your permission.

He always preferred smoking more than drinking, so you couldn’t understand how he survived the ‘’not smoking’’ rule they had created without your knowledge, and even if you weren’t around that much lately for it to be considered a real restrain, it still surprised you.

That didn’t change the fact that you had taken care of him on a couple of occasions though. Just like holding Wonbin’s hair when he got extremely wasted and threw up in strangers' bathrooms, you had let Anton sleep with his head on your lap when he smoked and ate a bit too much while Seunghan or Sohee ran to 24/7 convenience stores for something to bring him back to life.

‘’Do you want to try it?’’ he asked you, and you, deciding to do something different for your break-up, nodded.

‘’Do you even know how to smoke?’’ Wonbin inquired, laughing beside you.

‘’I’ve seen you two doing it more than enough’’ you quickly said, sounding different from usual and making Anton laugh, because it was true, especially with him.

Passing you the stick, you observed it for a good minute between your fingers, debating in your insides if it was worthy, but then you looked to the side, at how the drums frames of your boyfriend reflected the light of the TV, and you remembered why you were there.

Taking in air, you breathed, then moved it closer to your face, and seeing the little tip, you sucked it deep and nice.

They watched you as if they were studying you, having high expectations of your confidence, and laughing loudly when you coughed.

‘’Calm down’’ Wonbin took the joint from your hand, showing you how to do it right.

His lips barely touched it, and he nicely inhaled the smoke, holding it in like a pro, closing his eyes, and then slowly letting it out. It was an honest lesson, but you felt as if he had challenged you, and letting him pass it to Anton, you waited for your turn to prove yourself again.

This time you did it better, holding it in for longer, and softly letting it out like he did, watching him look at you with that cheeky grin.

It wasn’t even 8:15 when you checked again, and you had until 10 to stay and then go home, that was your curfew and you followed it religiously to avoid problems. So, watching Rocky get beaten once again on a TV old enough to be in your grandparents’ basement, you decided to close your eyes and let the weed effects take you, with an I have enough time in mind.

You wanted to see what was that magic that made everyone love it.

Leaning on the back of the couch, after many minutes, you started to feel conscious of different things, like the electric sound of the people cheering inside the old TV, the sticky sensation of the dirty fabric of the sofa under your recently shaved legs, and even more, the boy's legs touching yours on each side.

Of course they would be manspreading, they were in an indie/rock/you don’t know what the fuck band, so the way they caged you between their bodies and made you uncomfortable to find their own comfort probably didn’t even cross their minds.

Your eyelids opened when you heard a loud slam come from the movie, startling you, and you decided to watch the ceiling above you, recognizing the little spots from the humidity you had disliked since you stepped into that garage.

Wow, you really disliked, to not say hated, many things.

Just realizing it, you noticed that you disliked that garage from the first time you arrived, you disliked the old green couch that Wonbin made your boyfriend push from three streets down to his house, you disliked the old TV with static noise that your boyfriend and his friends made you watch, and you especially disliked that your boyfriend left you aside for all those things you hated without a doubt.

Why were you even trying it? You asked yourself.

After getting stressed for so many days, you didn’t have the energy to keep blaming yourself for it, and when Rocky had his first date with Adrianna, you laughed with the boys at Rocky’s corniness when he followed her around the ice ring.

Having seen that movie more times with them than necessary, that was one of the few scenes you honestly enjoyed, concentrating on it even when your boyfriend made you mad after he dropped a bomb like ‘’sorry, forgot we had this gig later, so I won’t be able to go to our date’’.

Or perhaps you concentrated because Anton always turned up the volume when that scene came since he saw you liked it too.

Watching them walk the street, you leaned to Wonbin’s side without noticing. His leather jacket felt glue-like against your cheek, but you didn’t mind, and looking at Rocky ramble about his turtles to catch Adrianna’s attention, you laughed when you saw the ugly pink lamp above them that was identical to the lamp Wonbin had put on one of the corners there.

‘’Rocky’s apartment reminds me of here’’ Anton said, referring to Wonbin’s ugly garage.

‘’What are you saying?’’ you interrupted him, ‘’Rocky is the original, Wonbin needs more than old cabinets, leaking pipes and granny lamps to catch him.’’

Wonbin only looked at you and shook his head with a smile, not even trying to defend himself.

When you focused on the movie again instead of the sensation of Wonbin’s leg pushing yours jokingly and his hand resting on your knee like he had done many times, Rocky was cornering her in his entrance, and on any other occasion you would’ve pushed his hand away, but when you saw the ambience of the movie get heavier, you couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t the kiss about to happen and how cold his hand that previously shared his drink with you felt against your skin.

Wonbin’s hand was trailing a bit higher, still a decent distance from anything too alarming, and you felt something forming in your insides, like a little spark that you kind of liked, so you didn’t stop him.

When Rocky kissed her, you squeezed your legs, trapping Wonbin’s hand between your legs, dangerously high and near your panties.

The kiss was quick but deep, and you felt Wonbin’s hand fitting perfectly between your legs, long fingers and a wide palm, feeling good and making you clench around nothing.

You woke up, you were getting wet with the hand of your boyfriend’s friend between your thighs, and opening them to let it free, you shifted on your place, pulling down your skirt as much as you could.

‘’Everything okay?’’ you heard Anton asking after you had pushed his leg with yours when you freed Wonbin’s hand.

Looking at him with lost eyes, you nodded, trying to brush off what had just happened.

Concentrating on the screen again, you leaned against Anton this time, almost a bit too much, trying to put a little distance between Wonbin and you so his hand didn’t get lost again.

Anton directed his eyes at you when he felt you pressing your chest against his arm, and again, you didn’t mean to, it just felt comfortable to be against him, and you couldn’t think twice about what you were doing when you pressed your chest again.

Liar.

You lied to yourself once again, like when you told yourself Seunghan didn’t mean to make you cry with his jokes, or when he lied saying he wasn’t high so you let him sneak into your room in the middle of the night, or when he tried to make you eat an edible that Anton snatched from your hand before you could taste it.

Suddenly, with that memory, Anton protecting you from a danger you didn’t know, you wanted to get closer to him, and for the first time that night, you felt happy to have chosen such a skimpy outfit that did nothing to shield you from the freezing night.

You just put on what Seunghan liked, what usually caught his attention, because that was your goal, not to survive the air of the winter night, and the big sweater that you tossed to one of Wonbin’s bushes hadn’t helped you avoid your neighbours’ stares, but at least it fooled your mother enough when you left before your father came from work.

Trying to remember the name of the last five presidents to keep you sane (which soon became the name of the last five songs you heard while walking there), you saw the way Wonbin was paying more attention to you on his side than the TV in front of you two, and not being able to pull your eyes away from him and his messy ashy blonde hair, probably as dirty as his garage, still hugging Anton’s arm, your smile got bigger when he moved a string of your hair behind your ear.

"You're high" he affirmed, and you, not confirming it, only closed your eyes to the sensation of his fingertips grazing a little spot behind your ear.

Shit, you murmured inside your mind.

You were getting too wet for your own good, and that wouldn't have been a problem if you were with your boyfriend, he would've immediately noticed the change in your demeanour and would've taken you to the bathroom to give you a quick fuck (not making you cum), helping you endure the need until he could walk you home and waited for your sign so he could climb the tree near your window.

But he wasn't there, and you didn't know what to do to make your cunt stop pulsating around nothing.

Gulping, you moved your eyes to Anton.

Everything you were feeling had to be because of that stupid joint, and he’d know what to do, like he always does.

"Should we take her home?" He asked, noticing the way you were uncomfortable with both pairs of eyes over you, hiding your face on his side out of embarrassment.

"Hell no, her dad is going to shoot us" Wonbin quickly answered.

You laughed at that, the little giggle making them smile too, amused with your sudden happiness, an image of you they weren’t used to, but it was true, your dad would shoot at them if they left his princess with wobbly legs in his doorstep, and he would kill you later too, which was actually kind of upsetting, and probably the reason why you always thought everything twice, my dad is going to kill me if he finds out, so no one should’ve laughed, but you all did.

Still, your imagination made you squeeze your thighs, making you see another way in which they would leave you with said wobbly legs, and feeling a bit of relief from the pressure that was building in your abdomen, you shamelessly repeated the action.

‘’Look at this girl, what do you think you’re doing?’’ Wonbin asked with a grin.

You should’ve stopped, you should’ve listened to that part in your mind that told you that you were acting like a fucking slut and to go home, but you didn’t, and with an exhale, you lied on your back as far as you could, and looking at them, you waited for one of them to do something.

Your exposed skin started to prickle, and a stronger tingle installed between your legs when Wonbin’s hand posed over your knee again.

Even if they didn’t do anything intense, when Anton’s hand gripped your other knee, a mewl left your mouth, calling for them to do something else than just touching that part of you.

‘’Fuck, what should we do?’’ Anton asked, without a grin, licking his lips and a frown on his forehead, ready to eat his meal.

‘’Shit do I know, I just want to touch her’’ Wonbin said.

Anton was relying on the older to say something, and you kind of did too. If he sent you home, you doubted you could continue with your little show, or show your face to them ever again, and you would end up unsatisfied, but at least you would keep a bit of your pride that Seunghan had smashed.

‘’Her nipples are so hard’’ the younger commented, eyes fixed on your perky buds standing under your white top that did nothing to hide them.

They could easily see the outline of them under the thick fabric, making their mouths dry for a taste.

‘’If you open your legs for us, we’ll touch you, but only if you do, we won’t do anything unless you show us what you want’’ Wonbin declared.

Your escape, that was your opportunity to leave, you could stay with your legs closed, or you could stand and walk out, you were high, but not that high, and you had no reason to depend on any of them to go home.

Watching the movie, you inhaled as much air as you could.

You look pretty tonight, you know? with an unclear mind, you heard the dialogue, Rocky saying it to his girl before his fight.

That was your fight now.

‘’How do I look tonight?’’ you let the question out.

You had dressed for Seunghan, an outfit you wouldn’t have worn in your wildest dreams before and that made you feel like a clown walking around, a foreigner on your own skin.

That wasn’t you, and when the boys saw you, they watched you from head to toe before they announced that Seunghan had just left, which felt kind of nice too.

‘’What do you expect me to say? You look gorgeous, but I have to admit it bothers me that you didn’t dress like that to see me’’ Wonbin smiled.

‘’You have no idea how much I love how you look in this skirt, but it makes me crazy to think you had to walk here alone’’ Anton didn’t smile.

You look fine was everything Seunghan would’ve said, not even looking at you.

Both answers felt correct in their way, and not having any other reason to stop yourself anymore, you were single after all, you opened your legs, and being bolder than usual, you lifted the hem of your skirt for them enough to see your underwear.

‘’Shit, my baby must’ve been hurting so much’’ Wonbin teased, pressing his fingers over your clothed cunt and drawing the form of your lips over them.

‘’She looks in so much pain’’ Anton agreed, and his hand went to your tit, pinching one of your nipples like he had been wanting since he saw you cross Wonbin’s door.

Not wearing a bra, he used his thumb and index to play with them, making your mouth fall open with a silent moan.

‘’Don’t be like that’’ your back arched to give Anton better access to your chest, so he touched you better, like you wanted to be touched, ‘’be kind, please’’.

Wonbin closed his eyes and Anton shook his head, both smiling from ear to ear.

‘’Don’t worry baby, you took care of us, now we’ll take care of you’’ Wonbin pushed your panties to the side and slid his middle finger up and down between your wet lips, ‘’She’s dripping so much, I think I can push one inside without problem’’.

‘’Has Seunghan ever made you cum with his fingers?’’ Anton asked.

You didn’t want to answer, it was so private, something between you and your boyfriend (now ex), and they could see in your flushing cheeks and your wavering eyes how you wouldn’t put Seunghan to shame even if he didn’t treat you right, and that was even more adorable for them.

‘’It’s okay princess, you don’t have to answer, tonight you’ll learn how a real orgasm feels like’’ Anton answered himself.

Both of them had turned to you a long time ago, and making you spread more for them, to show everything, they engraved the image of your pussy glistening and the juices that reflected the only light there.

‘’So fucking pretty’’ Wonbin cursed, licking his finger that had just touched you, ‘’as sweet as I imagined’’ he groaned, fingers going to your clit to recollect more of your wetness.

All tender and inviting, Anton’s left hand went from your chest to your pussy, fighting with Wonbin to thumb your clit, until he won, and Wonbin had to feel content with filling your entrance with one of his fingers.

9:10 PM

You looked at the hour, reminding yourself that you had to leave at ten.

‘’I’ll get punished if I don’t get home by ten…’’ you cried when Wonbin added one more finger, pushing them in and then pulling them out until just the tip of his fingers stayed inside.

Anton kept making circles over your clit, repeating Wonbin’s action and licking his fingers before going back to his job.

‘’We’ll walk you home princess, don’t worry’’ Anton secured.

‘’Fuck’’ you moaned when Wonbin increased the pace of his fingers fucking you.

His guitarist's fingers were working you so well, and you never doubted he had a talent when he played songs for you while waiting for your boyfriend to arrive, but to feel the same fingers playing with your insides confirmed his talent even more, and soon your hand went to his wrist, trying to stop him from making you cry.

‘’Too good’’ you cried, forgetting that Anton was also the culprit of that tightness forming on your core, letting his stimulations continue.

‘’I know baby, I know’’ Wonbin smiled, stopping his movements and watching the minor rolling your little bud, making you tremble and tear up, squirming to escape a pleasure you had never felt so intense before.

That didn’t last long, Wonbin couldn’t let himself be overshadowed by another boy, and with your hand still wrapping his wrist, he went back to do scissoring motions inside you.

You didn’t know what name to call, little sobs escaping from you and making them laugh at how pretty you looked even when being and making a mess.

You were leaking over Wonbin’s couch, leaving a big dark spot under you, and if you had been conscious enough, you would’ve stopped them, but you felt such an intense pressure approaching you that you could only concentrate on the way Wonbin’s fingers were opening you so good and how Anton wasn’t drawing circles anymore, roughly moving his hand from one side to the other to make you cum.

He could see it coming, your chest heavily moving up and down while tears pricked your eyes, and he had to show you he was true to his words, unlike Seunghan, so he decided to teach you what a real orgasm felt like.

Clenching around Wonbin’s fingers, Anton flicked your clit while Wonbin rushed his fingers into thrusting harder, making you cum with his digits inside you.

Yes, Anton kept murmuring when he saw your abdomen shaking and felt your pussy quivering under his hand.

With toes curling, legs trembling and eyes rolling, you came over their hands incredibly strong, a little gush dripping over Wonbin’s palm and his couch.

That didn’t stop them, they didn’t care that you were cumming, and they continued until you convulsed and cried for them to please stop.

It wasn’t even 9:25 and they had already given you the best orgasm of your life.

Your body was numb after they stopped, your eyes dropped closed, and the tears didn’t stop rolling down your cheeks, making Anton clean them with his thumb.

‘’Are you okay?’’ he asked you because your tears wouldn’t stop.

‘’Yes, sorry, too good’’ was the only coherent sentence that you could form.

Looking bright, Wonbin left a quick kiss on your lips, wrapping your throat with his hand to maintain you in your position for him.

Anton, wanting one too, did the same thing, with his hand on your chest instead.

Taking turns, they stole the little air you tried to retrieve, making you more dizzy with their mouths than with the weed you had smoked not long ago and the beer Wonbin had given to you so lovingly.

Your body was warm, and you weren’t sure exactly what you wanted, but your nipples were in pain, needing more than the delicate friction of Anton’s fingers over your top, and whining, you wanted them to touch you like they had just done, or even more.

‘’One more?’’ Anton asked when he saw you trying to close your legs in your place, trying to find any kind of relief.

‘’Yes, please’’ you said, and he, feeling proud of his good girl, gave your pussy a soft smack, telling you to open your legs more for him.

‘’We can give you something better than fingers’’ Wonbin said, making you turn to him, and knowing what he was referring to, you nodded.

You didn’t need to think things too much, you wanted to feel good, you were just abandoned, and if they were two boys willing to give you a good time for a night, why would you stop now?

‘’But not today’’ Wonbin continued, making you let a painful noise out.

‘’Why?’’ you asked sad.

‘’We’ve been waiting so much for you, your first time with us is not going to be this way’’ Anton answered.

You were too deep in a haze to understand him, and confused, you could only blink when you heard him.

Because they were kissing you just seconds ago, they were leaning towards you, and each of them, seeing you under them from their own side, blocked the TV and the big clock from your sight.

‘’But I want to cum’’ you cried, not caring about anything else and interrupting them from continuing with their reasons to not fuck you.

‘’That’s okay baby, all we are saying is that we won’t fuck you tonight’’ Wonbin laughed at your request, ‘’we’ll definitely make you cum one more time, we can’t let our girl go home in pain, but you need to come back in your senses if you want us to fuck you’’ he explained.

 ‘’Our girl’’ Anton caressed your cheek while Wonbin trailed down his hand from your neck to between your breasts.

That sentence seemed too dreamy for him, having waited so long to say it, not daring himself to voice it when you weren’t really his.

‘’Your girl?’’ you asked.

‘’Our girl’’ Wonbin confirmed.

They always hated the way Seunghan treated you, such a cute little thing like you should always be treated like a precious doll, with care, and spoiled with the best things.

Sadly, the lucky bastard had found you before them, and they could only see you from afar, everything, from the friendship with Seunghan to your heart eyes directed at him, stopping them.

Anton was always the one putting your drinks on Wonbin’s shopping car, and the last hated paying for unnecessary shit, judging deep inside any coloured can that he saw in the same aisle of his beers, yet he let the youngest sneak the box with the memory of your smile when you opened his fridge and found what you liked.

I’m not her boyfriend, Anton said in his mind when he ran to grab your fanta grape.

I’m not her boyfriend, Wonbin reminded himself when he tapped his card.

But now you were their girl, and they would treat you like you deserved.

Not believing what you just heard, you felt so loved with their eyes over you and his hands roaming your body that you slid down on the couch, making your cunt easier for them to access, and with some difficulty you placed your hand over your pelvis, going down a bit more to push your folds apart and expose your entrance, presenting them your little hole clenching around nothing.

‘’Your girl’’ you exhaled, weak against their care.

Anton was faster than Wonbin, his hand quickly finding your pussy and cupping it to not let the oldest fuck you with his fingers again, pushing his own inside you this time.

The other, accepting his loss, lifted your top to let your breasts free, which bounced with the fabric pulling them up and then letting them fall down naked.

Your pretty nipples begged for them to give them attention, all hard and standing since you arrived thanks to the chilly air that had impacted you on your way there.

‘’Been dying for a taste’’ Wonbin admitted, letting Anton take his place with his fingers inside you and launching his tongue to lick your bud.

His velvet tongue felt amazing on your smooth skin, making you drip more over Anton’s digits.

Anton’s fingers were a lot longer than Wonbin’s, and he easily grazed a certain spot that made you gasp and shake your head at how intense it felt, receiving more of your leaking juices as a response when he pushed it again.

‘’Too much?’’ he asked, and it was too much, but you denied it.

Pulling away, he slowly went back in, trying to make you used to him and the size of his fingers.

‘’She wants more’’ Wonbin said, caressing your cheek and obliging you to let the lip you hadn’t realized you were biting hard, free. ‘’Ain’t I right?’’ he wanted you to answer.

‘’Yes,’’ you sighed.

Gritting his teeth, Anton did the same action, but quicker this time, pulling out his fingers and pushing them back in harder and faster, making you moan and nod at the thrusts.

‘’Aw she likes it’’ Wonbin commented, hand cupping your jaw and leaving a soft kiss on your cheek while his other hand stayed playing with the nipple he was previously licking.

Anton dragged his fingers in and out, liking the vision of you frowning and moaning under him, but even more, how you were receiving more attention than what you needed from Wonbin’s part.

That was what you deserved, undivided attention and care from them, to drown in pleasure and forget about everything that wasn’t worth your time.

Only they were worth your time.

Lost in the sensation of your cunt taking his fingers so well, Anton kept pounding into you, slowly at times, to then fuck you harder and faster until you cried and tried to get away from his hand.

Wonbin’s hand that fingered you just minutes ago moved to your tummy, pressing his palm to help you get closer to your orgasm while his nose nuzzled behind your ear and his breath hit your cheek.

‘’She’s so tight’’ Anton commented, wrists almost completely stopping and thumb brushing your clit.

‘’I know, she’ll take us so good later’’ Wonbin almost groaned.

You cried when you heard that, they were fucking you so good only with their fingers, you couldn’t even imagine how good their cocks would make you feel. You squirmed in your place, trying to close your legs to stop you from becoming so sensitive, not getting far with the boy's hands gripping your thighs and maintaining you in your position for them. 

‘’You wanted to cum’’ Wonbin reminded you.

‘’Yes, I’m sorry’’ you said, biting your lip again and letting yourself be fucked by Anton’s fingers.

Anton didn’t hurry, gently moving the two fingers he had inside you in scissoring motions this time, he felt your warm and wet walls trap him.

‘’She’s going to cum’’ Wonbin said, recognizing your same expression from before, the way your chest was agitated and your body convulsing.

‘’Oh princess, cum for me’’ Anton demanded, needing to see your orgasm leaking down his hand just like you did for Wonbin.

Ruthlessly moving in and out his wrist, he enjoyed your face contorting for him and your pussy fluttering, and a heavier stream was released, making another mess over Wonbin’s couch and his hand.

You couldn’t feel your body anymore, and you had no idea at what time or how you got home, but when you woke up you were in your room with clean clothes and as relaxed as never.

Soon you were filled with anxiety, scared of how you had arrived and what would your parents say. You didn’t dare to go out of your room, and looking at the hour, you felt your nerves fall when you saw that your father had already left for work and your mother probably had gone out to do some shopping like she usually did that day.

You had no messages from any of them saying that they would talk to you later, and it was already passed midday, so you tried to think that things were probably all okay. However, you didn’t expect to see a message from Anton and Wonbin asking how you felt.

Come see us later, Wonbin had added.

What the hell had been that the day before? You stared at your wall for minutes until you decided that you wouldn’t know unless you asked it yourself.

Later that day, Sungchan opened the door for you when you arrived, his face pale at seeing you there.

You didn’t know who to ask for, so you timidly smiled at him and waited for him to simply let you in.

‘’Let her in’’ Wonbin said when he saw you, so Sungchan had no option but to let you.

Smiling, Wonbin tilted his head to where his kitchen connected with his garage, and you nodded understanding him, walking there with insecure steps.

‘’What the hell do you think you’re doing?’’ you heard Sungchan ask Wonbin in a whisper.

‘’You don’t care’’ Wonbin answered, not in a whisper.

Entering the garage, Wonbin’s couch was still there, covered only by a flannel where you dripped down, and suddenly an embarrassing memory came back to you in a flashback.

‘’I’m so sorry’’ you had apologized when the three of you observed the big spots you had left with your orgasms.

‘’It’s okay’’ Wonbin laughed, patting your back to console you.

‘’That’s kind of hot’’ Anton added, eyes focused on the way it showed perfectly how good they had treated you.

Now Anton was sitting on a single new couch that stuck out in the middle of the well-known garage, immediately smiling when he saw you.

There was a new face too, a girl sitting in the corner of the couch that reminded you of your old you, silent and feigning a smile, like when you waited for Seunghan to come back when he left you in painful silence with his friends the first days.

You walked to Anton, still wary, but more confident after he seemed happy to see you there.

‘’Hey,’’ Anton said, taking your hand to play with the tips of your fingers, to then pull you closer and make you sit on his lap.

His arms wrapped your waist perfectly, letting a greeting kiss behind your ear that made you giggle, making you feel comfortable on your new seat.

You felt the eyes of the new girl staring at you, and not wanting to be rude anymore, you talked.

‘’Hi,’’ you finally addressed the girl in the room when Anton rested his chin on your shoulder, closing his eyes and inhaling the aroma of your shampoo like he had been dreaming for months, ‘’Sorry’’ you continued, presenting yourself.

The girl denied with a cute smile, telling you that it was okay, and presenting herself as Seunghan’s new girlfriend.

‘’Seunghan’s girlfriend…’’ you repeated. She was cute, collected, calm, like you were when he met you.

‘’Yes, we just started seeing each other this month, how long have you been together?’’ she asked you, surely referring to you and Anton like a couple.

‘’Oh, it hasn’t been long’’ Anton answered for you.

A second later Sohee walked in, looking puzzled out for seeing you there, and especially, over Anton’s lap.

Almost immediately the rest of the boys came to the garage, all except Wonbin, becoming silent at the sight in front of them. Seunghan, who was more astonished than the others, froze at the entrance without understanding what he was looking at, his new girlfriend in the same room with his ex-girlfriend sitting over his bandmate’s lap.

Wonbin was the one who got him out of his confused state, pushing him to the side so he could cross the room to meet you, and sitting on the arm of the small new couch, he gave you a soft kiss on the lips, surprising everyone there, including you.

‘’We hope you all give us your blessings’’ Wonbin smiled, posing his cheek next to yours while Anton continued with his arms around your waist and his face hidden on your neck.