#these were mostly just to play around with how broken down i could get them. could absolutely be pushed more and

[nymdraws]

in my head ive long maintained that anvil is supposed to be really malleable in design but i always just draw them in canine form… so to remedy that heres some increasingly abstract anvils

[gutsby]

Halftime

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: A chance meeting a week before Thanksgiving leaves you and your dad’s best friend to handle your feelings the only way you know how: fucking on the couch when your dad falls asleep during the game.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Age gap. Soft dom!Joel. Daddy kink. Praise kink (!) Makeup sex. Pussy pronouns.

Note: ‘Or maybe on a fifty yard line watchin’ Bama beat the hell out of Tennessee’ is a line from Riley Green’s ‘Hell of a Way to Go.’ I was in Knoxville when we played this year, but in my fic, Alabama wins. If you’re a Vols fan, I’m sorry. And RMFT.

Word count: 10.5k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Guilt brought you home, and liquor helped you stay.

These were two of the shittiest things a daughter could admit, but the fact was that you simply wouldn’t be here if your dad hadn’t broken his leg at work last week. That you wanted to help, but your patience was thin, and the only way you knew how to reconcile the two was to drink. A lot. Friday you came home, and by midday Saturday, sometime around eleven or twelve, you were plastered.

Staggering up the front steps of your childhood home with Theresa Servopoulos—newfound friend from camp and the heaviest drinker you’d met in a long, long time—hot on your heels. You’d just had brunch, and the meal was mostly liquid. Bottomless mimosas had been Frank’s idea, and when his husband Bill had offered to be the DD after the fact, you’d had no choice but to accept, really. You drank your weight in citrus and champagne and spent the whole morning getting to know Tess’s friends. As your state of intoxication progressed, you’d told them your troubles and all that had been plaguing you lately.

Now, hours later, you didn’t want to think at all.

You wanted to sit your ass down on the couch, turn the TV on to Disney+, and spend the next three to thirteen more binging Star Wars spin-offs and discussing with Tess at length whether Katee Sackhoff or Timothy Olyphant was the more fuckable supporting actor.

“Honestly…I’d let Jabba the Hutt hit,” you confessed, slurring your words a little as you fumbled for your key.

“You’re fucking lying,” Tess half-groaned, half-laughed.

She watched you try and jam metal into metal and fail twice before steeling herself against a rocking chair and reaching out her hand. You waved it away. At a distance, you heard the hum of an engine and another voice, loud:

“You ladies need a little help over there or wha-at?”

That was Frank. He was arguably the most drunk out of the three of you and hanging his handsome, greying head out of the passenger side of Bill’s Chevy S-10. He’d seen you try and fail with the key, too, and seemed more eager than ever to lend a hand, while his husband was likely kicking himself for ever offering to drive you back.

Tess gripped the porch chair harder and gestured, dazed.

“Give her a minute, she’s—” She hiccuped once. “—intelligent and entirely capable. She’s got this, OK?”

You didn’t. You really didn’t. And by the way you were finessing this key you didn’t feel too fucking smart either. You crammed your key against the tight, rigid slot in the front door of your home, missed it completely, and then wondered, dimly, how men were able to aim their dicks.

How Joel ever managed to fit that massive, throbbing—

“Fuck!” you cursed, kicking the doorframe with a huff.

The periphery of your vision was spinning and swimming a little now, and before you knew it, Tess had snatched your keychain from out of your hand. She got to work.

And while she did, you turned back to Bill and Frank, whose truck was still idling quietly in your driveway.

Frank had an eyebrow raised. His chin was in his palm, and his elbow was planted in the car’s open window. With that look alone, you knew what he wanted to say.

“Fine…fine,” you capitulated in a loud, droning shout. Head spinning, “You can give him my fucking number.”

Frank grinned at that.

“No shit?” he yelled back.

“Yeah. I really am that horny.”

From somewhere in the car, Bill groaned his disapproval. Frank’s smile only widened. It’d been his idea to set you up with one of their neighbors after you’d divulged all of your dating life turmoils over eggs benedict and grits that morning—how fucking your dad’s best friend had, in fact, not been the wisest decision and you needed something new to get your mind off the man for a little while. Frank had been all too happy to offer supplying your number to the so-called ‘dreamboat’ next door to them. Initially, you’d brushed it off, but the longer you stood on this porch contemplating the hellish few days you’d be spending at home for Thanksgiving, the more you drunkenly reasoned a dick might do you some good.

And if it wasn’t from Joel Miller, even better. You leaned against the nearest porch column and pointed at Frank.

Then at Bill, squinting dumbly and faux-accusingly.

“I’m desperate, but I’m trusting y’all, too, alright?”

You wanted to get fucked, not fucked over, again. Frank seemed to understand right away and nodded his head.

“I’ll give him your number, tell him you’re hot—which you are—and you two can work something out. It’ll be fine.”

He pointed back at you, still smiling, and you hoped it would be. Behind you, Tess had solved the puzzle of the chrome-plated house key, and had thrust the door open. She stumbled inside, and your feet started to follow hers.

“Tell Tess to text us your number!” Frank had to cup his hands saying it, as Bill was already starting to pull away.

You nodded and waved. Watched the world veer sideways and your kind, considerate, hammered new friend-of-a-friend repeat how great this was going to be—this guy’ll do you so good you’ll forget Joel exists—while you backed into the house. A gust of warm air from inside pricked at your skin, and along with that touch came the tiniest trace of hope. A sanguine sort of warmth that twisted low in your gut and made you smile.

And cup your hands, as Frank had, while calling to him:

“How old is Mr. Dreamboat, anyway?!”

The truck was crunching its ways down the gravel drive. Its path was slow, though, and Frank’s voice was clear.

“FORTY-ONE!”

It was as though you were hearing those words in a dream. You almost couldn’t help what you said next.

Fanning yourself, you yelled back, “I lo-o-o-ve that!”

“What?!”

Frank hadn’t heard you. They were farther away now.

You had to practically scream it now, but you were drunk enough that you didn’t really care. Tess was entertained, half-hunched on the floor and trying to work off her shoes while she laughed at this stupid exchange.

In truth, it didn’t matter how loud you yelled, because you lived on several dozen acres of land, and your dad wasn’t home. He’d told you that he was hitching a ride with Tommy to their usual weekend haunt to watch the Alabama-Tennessee game, and it started an hour ago. The house was empty, and you were free to screech.

“I said, ‘I love that’!”

“Yeah? Love what?!”

Frank was hanging halfway out of the passenger window by now, and his face was flushed with moronic humor.

Bill was probably grinding his teeth together as he drove.

“O-O-O-OLD MEN!” you shrilled, as loud as you could.

Next thing you knew, Tess was on the floor. Wheezing.

It didn’t matter whether Frank could hear you now; evidently, he’d gotten the message. Their truck was crawling down your drive with a low, rumbling crackle, and the eyes that were still glued to yours were shining.

Before they turned out of sight, Frank waved again and blew you a kiss, as you and Tess had done to him at some point earlier that day. He slipped back into the car, and your sides were nearly aching from how hard you were giggling—nothing was even that particularly funny, but with a nice noontime buzz and Tess’s relentless cackling from across the foyer, you couldn’t help it. You shut the door, staggered over, and were about to drop.

Right when you were about to collapse, though, Tess wobbled up. You saw her raise two hands in front of her.

“I’m— I’m gonna pee…or puke…possibly,” she warned.

That wasn’t good.

You pointed up.

“First door on your left. Do you need any—”

But Tess was already staggering off. You might’ve laughed again, and trailed after her with a plea to try not to projectile vomit all over those nice festive towels your dad had bought, but the moment came and went quick. In fact, it wasn’t even brought to an end by your friend’s departure but rather the screech of her feet on the floor.

Nearly tripping over herself to leave, then crashing into something else before she could. You heard a thwack.

Then her huff, ‘Fuck. Sorry!’ And you turned.

You looked up and cursed.

Again, you felt like you might be in a dream. Only this time, the sight had more of a nightmarish hue, and you had only to grip the edge of a chair—no, a table, a side table—beside you in the hall to keep yourself upright.

Your sweet, sloppy-drunk friend had run straight into Joel. She was raising her hands again and saying sorry.

You could tell she meant it, too. She was just shaking her head, appearing to try and rid herself of the stunned, dumbfounded feelings, when she tilted her chin up.

Then, somehow even brighter, she smiled in recognition.

“Lucien Flores!”

Not missing a beat, like you knew she wouldn’t:

“You fucking prick.”

Of course she was sober enough to remember his face. The time she’d mistaken him for an uptight FEDRA counselor back at camp. How you’d fucked him on her bunk. All the shit-talking you’d been doing about him since, too. You knew she wasn’t a woman to mince words, so it didn’t surprise you in the slightest when next she placed a hand on his pec, patted it lightly and added:

“You’re an asshole. A spineless, slimy, sad sack of shit.”

Joel blinked as she walked past him, toward the stairs.

“Good to see you, too, Tess.”

“Eat shit and die.”

“Theresa.”

You hadn’t even meant to say the last aloud; it just came out. Tess was holding the rail, going slow but determined to get upstairs without losing her food all over the floor.

The next thing you heard was the slam of the bathroom door. You winced and thought of your dad’s decorative towels a moment. That thought was then supplanted by another, though you pretended not to feel it, at least outwardly. You brushed past Joel to go to the kitchen.

Why was he here? He surely wouldn’t have come unless your father was there, and your dad was supposed to be watching the Vols take the ass-beating of a lifetime from the Tide. Or maybe vice-versa. You weren’t sure how the latter was doing since Saban retired. You rubbed one temple as you opened a cabinet and looked for a glass.

Reconsidering, you opted for a plastic cup instead.

Your head was throbbing as you walked to the sink.

You sensed you likely weren’t of a mind to be holding anything fragile, and the second that followed only proved it. A footfall sounded by the kitchen island, and you flinched, dropping your cup like a fucking idiot.

“Where’s my dad?” you blurted out, not thinking.

You didn’t want his voice to be the first to fill the silence. You picked your cup off the floor and turned on the tap.

More silence followed. You couldn’t be sure if it was your own drunken paranoia or a genuine feeling of two eyes on your back, but your skin bristled. You were prepared to pose the question again when your answer came in the form of a new sound: not Joel’s voice, but another’s.

An announcer, apparently. You turned your head and saw ESPN on the living room TV, where the game was playing. In front of the screen, your dad was supine on his recliner. His jaw hung slack, and his eyes were shut.

So much for those morning beers with Tommy.

His leg was armored with a boot: a real, no-bullshit cast meant to protect the tibia he’d shattered, propped up in front of him while the other dangled haphazardly from the chair. You watched him, feeling an odd mix of pity, nausea, and love, and for a second, you didn’t think to move. This man was the reason you were home, after all—and why Joel was, too. You almost forgot your anger.

Your cup was full. Overflowing. You turned off the sink, then poured what excess you could as your hand shook.

You shouldn’t have been holding anything in that moment, off-kilter and unnerved as you were, but you wanted to seem occupied. You inhaled and started past Joel again, who was leaning against the counter, quiet.

He still didn’t talk, and let you stroll about half a foot in front of him before you felt the cup lift out of your hand.

“Hey—” you started.

But Joel was resuming your path before you could finish. He’d snagged the water from your grasp and made his way out of the kitchen, calmly, and you didn’t have to ask to know where he was going. You felt a pang of rekindled resentment but said nothing, knowing that was useless.

Arrogant motherfucker. Patronizing asshole. Clearly, you couldn’t be trusted to carry a cup of fucking water up the stairs in your own home, so he had had to do it for you. You went over to your father in the living room, blinking through a dozen more pissed off thoughts, when you glanced down at one of your hands again. You winced.

Stop shaking.

You needed to stay busy. Make use of those dumb, trembling hands while Joel was here and not let him see that it was all from memories of him—not the mimosas—that you couldn’t keep a steady hold to save your life.

You started to clean, mindlessly. Cleared the old coffee table of its manifold beer cans and plates of stale pizza. You walked with an unsteady gait, the room still tilting a little, but you ended up getting a decent amount cradled in your arms and into the trash or the sink shortly after.

You had just taken a bite of a slice of pepperoni and made a face when your dad shifted in his seat, letting out a grunt. Still unconscious, he rubbed at his arms. The house around him was warm, but never quite enough for a man who appeared to have been born cold-blooded. After years of this, you knew the routine; you dropped your pizza, went to the thermostat, and cranked it to 75.

Less than a minute later, it came: “Boiling us alive, huh?”

It was the first you’d heard from Joel since he spoke his curt greeting to Tess. You were over by the closet getting a blanket, and Joel was stood in the doorway, frowning.

You turned, holding up the big wool throw for him to see before you went back over to your dad in the recliner.

“He needs it,” you replied, gaze averted.

“By ‘it’ you mean his electric bill gone through the roof?”

He could be such a father sometimes. The worst kind.

“No, keeping him fucking warm, Joel.”

And the end of the last sentence you hadn’t meant to be so loud. Or mean. You didn’t really care whether it offended him, but the thought of waking your dad to hear that—being rude to your ‘Uncle Joel,’ as your dad had so innocently called the man last month—was awful. You squinted seeing him stir under the blanket, but then he turned to the side and snored even louder. You sighed.

“Doctor’s got him on some heavy painkillers. He’s been out since before the last game even ended,” Joel said.

You glanced at the TV. The game was crawling to halftime at a snail’s pace, by the looks of it. You smiled, seeing those puke-pumpkin-hued fucks getting smoked. In a second, though, the curve of your lips was fading.

“Will you stop?”

Your voice was shrill. You hurried over to Joel, who was busy dicking around with the thermostat and trying to get it down to 68 degrees—freezing, in your dad’s mind.

“It’s too hot.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You’re being—”

“This isn’t your fuckin’ house, Miller! Quit!”

“Yell a little louder, why don’t y—” Joel began to scold.

You wouldn’t let him. Of all things to get on your ass about now, volume wasn’t the hill he’d die on today. Before you even realized what you two were doing, you shoulder-checked him like you might do an annoying brother, and his arm wound swiftly around your front. It didn’t hurt, but it sure as hell made you mad to be held.

You made a jab at Joel’s ribs and ignored the grunt from him. Anger was a natural defense—your default state.

Every last semi-tranquil encounter you’d shared with someone you cared about before was always marred by rage at some point, and with Joel, it came as easy as breathing. If you weren’t tearing each other’s clothes off, you were ripping him a new one, or he was grating your nerves. You didn’t get along, and you likely never would.

That didn’t mean there wasn’t need there somewhere. You just smothered it with something hostile, constantly.

You wished it would go away. You shoved at his arm.

“You’re gonna wake him,” you hissed, strained.

“Yeah? That’s what you’re worried about?”

You wriggled against Joel’s hold and, scrunching your nose, made a pass for the dial on the wall. He caught it.

Now he was holding your hand in one of his, and your shoulder with the other as his forearm crossed your chest. Joel’s frame was looming over yours, and you glared ahead of you, where the screen still read ‘68.’

You could throttle him—Joel Miller simply refused to lose

“Is that all you’ve gotta say to me, after this whole time?”

His breaths were tight like yours, but the voice was slow.

“What else is there to say?” you snapped.

“You’ve been ignoring me all month.”

“I’m in college. I have shit to do.”

“Like block all of my calls?”

“Go fuck yourself, Joel.”

“Just tell me why.”

“Fuck. You.”

Your last two caustic words were still warm on your tongue when Joel turned you around. Again, he wasn’t forceful or harsh—your looks had enough vitriol for the two of you—but he pushed your body against the wall. Right beside the thermostat, your spine straightened, and your legs wrapped reflexively around his waist.

“Is that an invitation?” he hummed, voice palpably lower.

Un-fucking-believable, you thought. Of course, it was.

Silently, you prided yourself in wearing a dress that day. It wasn’t the short, red-and-white gingham thing you’d worn to the fair with Joel last month, but it was loose. Flowing. Easy enough for him to hike up your legs, sliding a coarse, warm palm up your thigh while the other held you tight to the wall. His hips pinned yours, and with that gesture, you felt him hard and desperate in denim.

“Need me to fuck you now or what? Is that the only way I’m getting a word out of this mouth?” he pressed again.

Honestly, it was. You nodded once to say as much.

Then he pushed you harder against the wall. He wrestled with his jeans just enough for you to hear a belt, and a button, and a short, sharp zip come down, and your mind was swimming with filthy ideas when he grunted.

Joel nosed your cheek, and a hand made its way to your mouth. You sucked in a breath right before you felt three fingertips graze the seam of your lips. Prying them open.

“If I’m fucking you here, I need more than a nod, kid.”

You really, really hated him now. This felt like a game. His index curled into your bottom teeth and pulled your mouth open wider, while his own was smiling, faintly. It was hard to talk with his fingers skirting your tongue—his warm, bare member springing out and grazing your folds through your panties down below—but you tried.

Your words were muffled as you spoke, “Please fuck me.”

Clearly, that was all Joel needed. With an easy nudge from the head of his cock, he pushed your underwear to the side, and his grin got bigger when he felt you soaked.

You were drooling down his length, and he hadn’t so much as touched you before he pushed you up against his body. It felt almost shameful as he slid himself inside.

Then, in the next moment, your brain went blank. Your bodies were joined completely, and Joel had you seated all the way down to the base of his cock, where a tuft of salt-and-pepper hair tickled your skin. His fingers hung limply from your lips while he nestled in; when you groaned, he used his middle and index to stifle the noise.

“Shh, hey—” he started, as if suddenly remembering where he was, and whose daughter he was fucking, “You’re okay. You’re good…I know that feels good.”

You despised him even more when he was right. He pressed the heft of his belly into you, and with the friction, you couldn’t help but whimper against his hand.

“Fuck you,” you bit again, this time through fingers.

“I am.”

Then he pushed them in further, and he made you suck. Joel started fucking you gently against the wall, and with the first few strokes, you knew you’d be putty soon enough. You focused on feeling and trying not to whine.

“I’ve been texting,” Joel continued, breath labored, sounding half-crazed, “Calling every chance I got—”

He paused to jerk his hips harder. Make you bounce on his cock or maybe just hold him closer from the force of it. And you did, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and reluctantly burying your face into the side.

He was familiar, that was for sure. You tensed seeing something else familiar—your dad in the next room—and preemptively swallowed a moan while Joel kept going.

Fucking you stupid and talking to you, per usual.

“—to make sure you were OK,” he finished, panting.

Pulling his fingers from your lips so you could answer:

“I’m fine.”

“Are we?”

“You lied to me!”

And no sooner had he retracted his hand that he needed to clamp his palm over your mouth. You’d said that loud.

In the next room over, through the open space between the kitchen and the den, you heard your dad snore softly. When your gaze flitted back to Joel’s, it was like you were chiding the other at once—whose idea was this, anyway? Slowly, he moved his hand down, but his gaze was stern.

“Didn’t mean to lie,” Joel answered, now lower than ever.

“But you did. Dad’s been fucking his old sidepiece, my mom’s best friend, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I didn’t think it was my place—”

“Your place?!” You made sure to keep your indignation hushed this time, but your eyes went wide. Incredulous.

You would’ve shoved Joel off if he hadn’t moved first. Neither one of you had had a fraction of the presence of mind to be thinking straight here, obviously, so when he carried you closer to a table in an adjoining room, all you were thinking was how not to lose your cool completely. When Joel tried to set you down on the wooden surface, you slipped away. You moved to the couch; you weren’t even considering where you were going, just that you wanted more of him, and you needed to be done quick.

If that meant fucking on the sofa behind your dad’s recliner, so be it. Joel balked a second before following.

“Are you…?” he started, voice no louder than a whisper.

“What? Not your ‘place’ here, either?” you shot back.

Admittedly, you were both insane. No matter how far away your dad’s sleeping form happened to be, or how thoroughly knocked out he appeared from the drugs, this was batshit, objectively. Joel’s eyes narrowed at you.

Then he moved some more. Casting a sidelong glance at the recliner less than ten feet away, he gripped himself and gave you a look as if to say, ‘Are we crazy now, or…?’

You nodded to confirm that you were.

By moving again, apparently, Joel was saying the same.

Except now it wasn’t with words but with a look—eyeing you hungrily and setting all rational, sane thought aside to climb over the couch to you. Your legs were spread.

Joel slotted himself quickly between them, then inside you, without another word. His body crowded yours. The scent you knew was also the fragrance you hated most: the smell of his American Spirits. He tried to kiss you with those lips, and you dodged them, choosing instead to hold the coarse greyish hairs at the nape of his neck and pull them. Draw him closer to your body without letting him get too close to you. Joel let out a grunt.

His hips rutted in short, quick, shallow motions again, like he was desperate to feel anything. When you wouldn’t accept his lips on yours, they fell to the side of your face. He held your sides while he dragged his cock in and out of your pulsing heat, and his breaths fanned heavy on your cheek. His stubble was sharp on your skin.

“Anything you want,” he huffed shortly.

His mouth was right by your ear, and his words were spoken in a breath. And another. And another. Still panting and dragging his old, weary hips back and forth in an effort to pleasure you. He felt indescribably good.

“Want…what?” you murmured back.

You clawed at his torso and locked your legs around his waist. You glanced over at the recliner, turned away from the couch, thankfully, and hoped it wouldn’t move again. Your dad’s breaths were deep, and so was Joel inside you

Sliding a hand under your head and cradling your body to his, and still maintaining a bruising pace with his cock—you almost couldn’t take it. You wanted to come undone.

And there Joel went, murmuring in your ear. Battling the urge not to get too loud with your father there, but still:

“I’ll do anything…anything you want.”

“W-Why? For what?”

“To say I’m sorry.”

“You don’t—”

But your words were cut short. For a second, your heart leapt into your throat thinking the sound was coming from your dad’s old chair, and then you realized that it wasn’t. Just the same, your terror spiked again when you sensed it was somewhere inside—coming from the back.

“Can I get a…ROLL TIDE?!” someone yelled.

Tommy Miller wasn’t even an Alabama fan.

Still, it seemed he was here to celebrate like one anyway. You froze momentarily, taking in the shout, then the steps, then the linoleum floor of the mud room being shuffled across before the boots were kicked off quick.

His brother was quicker. Joel climbed off of you in a blink, jeans and boxers trailing just as fast. Then his hands were dropping to you, gripping your arms, and heaving you up. You stumbled. You shoved your skirt down, fast, and barely had the time to breathe while you skittered after Joel, still in his hold. The two of you ran like hell: quiet, but like your asses might’ve been on fire. You made it out to the foyer, and from there, you could hear Tommy making a fuss in the kitchen. Joel strode three steps at a time going up the stairs, and behind him, you nearly face-planted. He tugged you up then, swiftly.

Silent as death at the top of the stairs and trying to usher you into a room, not saying a word. You dug in your heels

“Wait. Wait—Tess?”

“Napping in the tub.”

Of course. You cast one last pensive look at the bathroom door before you let Joel nudge you away.

You were pushed into a room; you knew it was yours. Steeped as you were in fear, shame, and lingering inebriation, you couldn’t waste a second getting in—and neither could Joel. His frame followed close while Tommy’s old, familiar sounds grew louder downstairs. He ushered you further, walked you forward, pushed you in an inch or two too far, and before you knew it, your knees were bumping along the front of your bed. You tripped.

Your hands flew out to break your fall. Unfortunately, the limbs that were meant to stay straight were weaker than you’d hoped, and instead of holding you up, they crumpled beneath your weight. You fell on your face.

The spot where you landed was soft, though.

You let out a muffled grunt into cotton sheets.

Across from where you lay, Joel’s steps were slow—painstakingly so—and when you’d propped yourself up and blinked again and again to adjust your eyes to the dim half-light of the room, you could see him there. Pacing. Skating a look to the doorknob, as if checking to make sure he’d locked the thing properly, then running a hand through his hair. From your perch, you saw a wince.

Then his face turned to you. Again—guilty.

What the fuck am I doing here with you?

That was what you thought you saw in his expression, anyway. You felt compelled to ask him the very same.

“Why are you here? Why is Tommy here?” As if to punctuate your question, more footfalls followed, loud, “I thought he was taking my dad to the bar. And you—”

“I know. He was supposed to. Then he texted and said your dad crashed before the Notre Dame game even ended, so he figured he’d head over to the bar himself.”

You were about to speak, but Joel continued.

“I said he was an idiot to leave your dad home alone, since the man can hardly walk on his own. So I came.”

You swallowed. While some momentary swell of gratitude threatened to constrict your throat, you forced out a frown and scooted back. The room swayed a little.

“That the only reason?” you asked, clipped.

At the foot of the bed, Joel held your gaze. It was stern. Your own vacillating look was no match for the man who, in spite of the two or ten beers he’d likely guzzled that morning, could stand firm. Prop his hands on his hips.

Look every bit the displeased fatherly figure while he watched you crawl across the plush, pink bed at length.

It wasn’t right. You saw it in his eyes: the want painted there, however burdened by shame they might’ve been. No doubt seeing your childhood bedroom had kicked the guilt into overdrive, reminding him, plainly, that he was his age, and you were yours. And his best friend’s kid. The irises that shone in the glow of warm white fairy lights overhead flitted to the canopy where they hung. Joel sized up the mesh overtaking most of your bed, all flowing and girlish and juvenile as it cascaded from the four wooden posters, and he had to shake his head. He blinked faster, as if trying to rid himself of some thought.

“I’ll go,” he choked out.

“Alright.”

You unzipped your dress and let it fall to the bed the second Joel had started to turn. He stopped. Got himself an eyeful and probably could’ve bruised every fingertip from how hard he tightened his grip along his belt loops.

He watched you slip out of the fabric, then brush it aside. Clothed in just your bra and panties, you went to the nightstand and opened a drawer. You leaned down.

And, while you kneeled and bent over to reach, Joel was afforded a too-perfect view of the wet patch in the fabric between your legs. You could’ve sworn you heard a groan before you crawled back over to the place where you’d been—American Spirits and a lighter now in your hand.

“Where’d you…” Joel started, only to lose his train of thought the moment you sat and unclasped your bra.

You lit up, comfortably. Nodding to the window.

“Mind opening that?” you asked him.

Joel stood back and stared. He squared his shoulders, seeming poised to say ‘no,’ when his gaze dropped lower.

“Those’ll kill you.” But he was just looking at your breasts

Reluctantly, he moved from where he’d fixed himself at the center of your room and walked over to the window. He slid the pane up, but he didn’t let his gaze stray from you too long. As soon as the smoke found a place to go, he turned. He shook his head again. You smiled, then.

“These are yours,” you replied. You bared your teeth at him with the cigarette in between them, teasing a little.

After, you closed your lips and inhaled once. You blew a breath through your nose and let the smoke trail out. Joel scowled as he took a step closer to your bed.

Somewhere downstairs Tommy had cranked the game up louder. You could hear the blare of fanfare and a booming, cheery voice announcing a first down.

Meanwhile, Joel’s jaw hadn’t flinched. His lips were still curled in that sour, unsightly grimace. He had to have gotten a good deal of practice doing that while you were away, with every text, call, and FaceTime you’d declined over the past month, you imagined. Now it wasn’t so much a matter of being ignored as it was getting smoke blown into his face that made him irritated. Galled, even.

Joel made a pass for your mouth as if to take the cigarette away, but you were too quick. You slid back.

“Finders keepers,” you chided, trying not to giggle.

“Give it.”

“Make me.”

“Kid, don’t start.”

Joel’s face was turning pink as he leaned in again. In no more than a second, though, you’d made it safely out of his reach. He had to plant a knee on your bedspread, grit his teeth even tighter, and stretch his frame further in, and just when he’d gotten within half a foot from where you sat perched at the head of the bed, you felt a snap.

Or perhaps heard a groan and surmised the rest. Joel cursed, ‘Fuck!’ then fell to his elbow, hissing with pain.

He gripped his side, and he winced. Your eyes went wide.

“Joel?”

The cigarette fell from your lips; as soon as it did, Joel swept a brusque, graceless touch in your direction. He held tight to his side while he swatted the thing away. The second the still-lit stick hit the covers, Joel had it brushed to the side, sending it flying off of your bed.

His nostrils flared when he stood again. He crushed the cigarette underfoot. He looked pleased—then pained.

“Joel!” you hissed. This time reaching for him, and catching him narrowly before he lurched into your bed.

“‘M’alright. Stop, stop. It’s okay.”

Joel grunted, low. He held one bedpost. He clutched somewhere on his body close to the small of his back, and you could tell he felt a strain. He noticeably tensed.

“I’m fine.” And then he was starting to wave you off, too, “Lifetime of smoking’ll do that to you. And turning forty.”

You believed him. What you wouldn’t accept was how fast he tried to bend down and retrieve the cigarette from the floor. His cheeks flushed red with the effort.

And just when he’d started to tilt, you tugged him back.

You gripped his shirt and yanked him onto the bed.

Maybe that wasn’t the best for the muscle he’d pulled. At any rate, though, it was better than straining another by trying to pick up a cigarette butt, you reasoned. You hadn’t even jerked him that hard, and your bed was soft. Joel fell with a thud amidst a sea of satin, plush faux fur, a half-dozen pillows, and a mound of stuffed animals. His lips frowned as if annoyed, but the eyes betrayed relief. He breathed out a shallow puff of air once he’d settled.

“You need to stop smoking.” Grumbling now, of course.

You wanted to pinch the pout clean off his mouth.

“Yeah, really, Joel? You first,” you shot back.

“I’m old.”

“No shit.”

“Watch it.”

For someone who’d practically thrown out his back just bending at the waist, Joel Miller loved to wax poetic on the dangers of Big Tobacco. And getting old. By the time he groaned and laid flat, you decided you’d had enough of this sexless intermission, and you straddled his hips.

“Wh—” Joel huffed in protest, pushing at hands all too eager to act on his belt, “You still haven’t answered me.”

“What was the question?” you returned, careless.

But you knew it clear as day: Are we alright?

The old man didn’t stop the path of your hands, but he certainly made a show to try and pretend to stall their speed. He watched, curiosity piqued and shame still roiling in his gut, and he let you unbuckle, unzip, and finally free him from the confines of his briefs. He sighed.

It was then that you felt him hard against your palm, firm as he was before. Your mouth watered even more. When your eyes flitted up to his for permission, you didn’t expect to find resistance there, so the subsequent grip around your wrist took you back. Joel seized hold of your hand in his, and, rather than stopping you completely, he paused it in place. Sank your touch into his groin, as though tempting you with the outline of his bare length.

That was cruel. He knew what feeling him did to you.

“You know exactly what question I meant.”

What such a move would do to any girl in your position—freshly fucked and eager for more—and in your bed, no less. You didn’t care for the guilt Joel harbored today; he didn’t get to demand answers you weren’t ready to give.

“What? Feeling bad for boning your friend’s kid all of a sudden?” You smiled, voice devoid of any humor as you tried to pivot subjects, “Didn’t look like that downstairs.”

Shame flared in Joel’s eyes. Two could play at this game.

His grip tightened around your wrist, and he kept it still. In spite of this hold, you were able to flex your fingers the tiniest bit and take him snugly in your hand. He held you, and you held him, and for the next few excruciating moments, that was all either of you could do. Until:

“I would do it again.”

And then Joel’s touch was moving yours. Rubbing him. Seizing your hip with his free hand and rocking you back.

Making you hold his gaze while his dick swelled bigger.

“I don’t care if that’s wrong,” he added through his teeth.

“Wrong,” you mumbled absently. Touching him more.

It was as though you both were rooted in place by warring feelings—Joel by guilt, and you by knowing. Needing each other, and being unable to break apart. Words flowed like molasses; their end was no less sweet.

“I’d fuck you anywhere you asked if you would just—” Joel broke off suddenly, taking a breath, “Forgive me.”

Please.

The eyes beneath yours were pained with remorse.

You squeezed him tighter, and you stared more carefully.

“Here?” It left you more like a breath.

“Here.”

Your skull still buzzed. Your vision still wavered some. You could scarcely hope to know what it was that made this man a worse intoxicant than every drink you’d guzzled that morning, but the way he reached for your body and slid you back in the bed made answers pointless anyway. All you needed to know was that he wanted you, too. You could sort out the rest of it later; you let him lie you down

Joel was out of place here, that much was obvious. Clearly, no man skating through middle age belonged in the bedroom of a girl as young as you—and that was overlooking the paternal connection altogether—but all the same, he guided you back. Trailed your body with his. If it weren’t for the greys and the striations on his face and the legions of freckles bred from decades spent baking under the sun, he might’ve struck you as a much younger man. His every move now seemed to show it.

His hands shook like yours had earlier.

He watched you slide under the covers, then swallowed.

“Still cold?”

“Yeah.”

He gave you a long look, as though considering what to say. You beckoned him over and decided to talk for him.

“Like father, like daughter, I guess,” you added. Teasing.

You could hear the groan start to bubble in his throat, but Joel let you pull him in. He climbed under the sheets.

Like a much younger, doubly nervous teen around his date past curfew, he slotted between your legs with a moment’s indecision. He shed his clothes but was slow. Your gaze flitted to his torso, then his legs, and watching him gingerly undress, you couldn’t help but grin a little.

Both of you were naked in under a minute. Joel’s body was like a furnace searing hot between your thighs.

And while you smiled at him, he frowned down at you.

You might’ve expected anything next, except hearing:

“We aren’t gonna be parents anytime soon, right?”

You choked.

“What?”

Joel blinked.

“The Plan B, I mean,” he went on, color crawling up to his cheeks. He blinked harder, like he’d been dreading this, “Wasn’t sure if you ever got your…yeah. Just wonderin’.”

Just wondering.

After Joel’s Cenozoic-era condom had broken the first time you two had ever fucked, you realized you hadn’t bothered to tell him if you ended up getting your period. He’d probably been trying to ask that over the course of several dozen unanswered texts and calls the last month, but you’d been radio silent. Your drinking today had to have given the truth away, but you still felt a pang of guilt

You admired his sincerity. You didn’t want to mock it.

But when your lips twitched the tiniest bit, Joel’s did too. He’d heaved a sigh of relief before you’d even answered him in words, and for a moment, things were easy again.

“I’m sorry, Miller. That probably had you scared shitless.”

“It did.”

And, under most other circumstances, you probably would’ve expected him to chastise you for it a little. Chide you for your immaturity and shake his head, because this was always how it went. But he didn’t.

Joel smiled back instead, and he kissed your forehead.

You blinked, shortly summoning words to try and deflect.

“I mean, like…can you even imagine us having a kid?”

“I can’t. I think I’d be…” Joel trailed off, at a loss.

“Pissed to be changing diapers in your fifties, I bet,” you finished for him, and that made him laugh. You joined in, grinning, and for a second you almost forgot he was still between your legs. His cock softened against your belly.

“You’d be a hot mom. I’d be an old dad,” he countered, suddenly lowering his face to kiss and nuzzle your neck. When the ebbs of your laughter were renewed in a fit of giggles, and your feet kicked helplessly under the covers as he used his mouth and hands to tickle you then, you had to choke through your words—‘Joel, stop, I mean it.’

“Ticklish and hot, I forgot.”

His fingers were relentless on your ribs. You kicked again.

“Don’t fucking test me. I—I will kick you out,” you warned

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Go on, then.”

Evidently, the thought of ordering him back downstairs with your dad and Tommy seemed like the least likely outcome at the moment, so Joel kept tickling you. He moved his lips to your ear, about to whisper something stupid and teasing, most likely, when you jerked yourself the other way. You slid just far enough to reach off the bed. While you clawed at your nightstand, Joel simply draped his body over yours and went on kissing and touching and relishing the sounds you were making—even while you were cursing his name under your breath.

“Go. Go. Enough of this shit, Miller,” you finally told him, nudging Joel back and waving something in his face.

“Wh—”

“Since getting knocked up is the last thing either of us wants, and we’ve been terrible about playing it safe…”

It didn’t take long for Joel to recognize what it was. As soon as he’d lifted his head to ogle it, you didn’t let him stare at the box of condoms for more than a second or two before tearing it open. Its seal had still been intact.

“New stash for someone special?” Joel hummed, low.

“Nope. Just you.”

Your old friend didn’t seem to appreciate that remark, returning your smirk with a roll of his eyes, but he took the metallic-wrapped rubber when you offered him one anyway. He tore off the top. He probably would’ve liked to put the thing on, but with all the time and brainless banter that had passed, he had to get himself hard again. He eyed you once, and, wrapping a hand around himself semi-erect, he seemed to want to say something more.

You wouldn’t let him. You kissed him, and he kissed back, and with your legs sliding around the backs of his own underneath the soft, warm sheets, he probably forgot what he was going to say. Your lips and tongues intertwined without needing those words to be spoken, and before long, Joel was growing harder. He sucked in a breath when your hand reached down to touch him, soft.

Joel grunted when your touch replaced his. While you stroked his length, you could see the muscles tense in his stomach. The heft of his belly was smooth, and firm, and protruding with little patches of black and grey hairs, and the man looked so undone already with just your fingers curling over his shaft. You would’ve held him that way for as long as he asked. Would’ve relished the warmth of him in your hand, the way his breaths grew more ragged as he kissed you and let you pump him gently between your body and his. You might’ve mistaken it for something romantic when he reached up and brushed the hair out of your face, before pulling away and mumbling, ‘That’s it. That feels real good, sweetheart. You’re doin’ so good.’ But being the way you were, you couldn’t accept such intimacy without wanting to shy away. You pushed his words aside and reached for the condom in his hand, swallowing thickly as you did.

The latex went on quickly. Joel hardly seemed of a mind to try and slow things down with his body just as taut, on edge, and desperate as yours. He planted an arm beside your head, and you guided his length between your legs. It felt cozy. Tender. Nervous like this could’ve been your first. A little strange seeing how you’d done this multiple times before—had started it just downstairs, against a wall and on the couch—and somehow, felt different now.

Joel sank in, and both of you groaned.

“I missed you, baby.”

It came from him all in the same breath. Your walls clenched, and he said it again. You peered up at the man, half-expecting to see his eyes shut and the feeling of you guiding his words more than anything else—he hadn’t meant you, but what was between your legs. But when you looked, you met his gaze. Joel was earnest, clearly.

“Did you miss me?” he panted, hips dragging back.

With the head of his cock drawn all the way up to your entrance, tip stretching that soft, sticky flesh, you could scarcely do more than whimper. You laced your fingers together behind his neck, felt him push in again, and suddenly, the sensations churning low in your gut got warmer. Stronger. They made you want to hold on longer

He felt so big inside you. Overwhelming you with his size and his scent and the way his lips trailed over yours while he fucked you; it all seemed too much to give a response.

Joel kissed you again, and your bodies fell into a rhythm. You squeezed his neck, let out a breathy whine when his cock grazed something soft and sensitive between your walls, and then pulled away fully to look down and watch.

He did too. He kissed the crown of your head, mumbling:

“See how good we fit?”

Those words could’ve sent you over the edge. Your body shuddered at the next thrust, feeling the warmth of his breath still fanning across your face, and you nodded.

Your eyes all but glazed over as you watched Joel’s big, glistening cock disappear and reappear from inside your body, coated with your arousal and the rubber and looking every bit as dizzyingly good as it had before. The wet noises only increased in volume the more he sped up, and with the need blossoming in your stomach, you had no choice but to moan. Joel plunged even deeper.

“Did she miss me, at least? Did she miss her daddy?”

Your walls clenched at those words—‘she,’ ‘daddy.’

Still, you couldn’t speak. You just nodded back.

Joel’s motions grew stronger, and with every stroke inside you, his cock hit something plush and sweet. You had to bite your lip to keep the sounds from coming out too loud, but the effort was almost wholly in vain. The harder he went, the more your throat came to betray you. The more Joel seemed keen on getting you to speak.

“Feels like she does, hon,” he said, tone dulcet and low, “Pussy’s been squeezin’ like she needed daddy here.”

That was true. Your heels dug deeper in his ass, and you felt something tender swell up inside, almost painfully.

Joel was moving your whole frame with the weight of his thrusts—your body bouncing beneath him, the bed creaking under the force, your old childhood room being filled with the sounds of your blooming pleasure and his. Your cunt stretched even more; it begged to be fucked deeper. Though your mouth couldn’t form the words, it seemed Joel was more than able to make out the rest.

He brought his thumb to your clit. He rubbed it, then caught your lips in a hot, steady kiss when a whimper from yours was just about to threaten to tremble out.

“Atta girl,” he grunted against your mouth, “That’s it.”

His hips worked faster. His thumb moved with even more precision, more persistence, as though begging your pleasure to come. You could feel the sweat bead on your skin and his; your bodies seemed to blend together. Your legs tightened around his sides, and while he fucked you and kissed you more fervidly then, you could feel your resolve start to slip. You broke from the kiss, panting.

“I can feel her, honey. Keep goin’,” Joel urged.

You weren’t sure if you could. It felt good.

It felt safe. You hadn’t felt that in a while.

Or maybe just since you’d been away.

You thought of the last, vulnerable state you’d been forced to endure—feeling hurt and betrayed after Joel had lied trying to keep you ‘safe’—and your body tensed. You held tighter, but you also couldn’t lose that feeling completely. You were so close, and there was still something else you couldn’t yet define, or explain.

“Cum for me, baby,” Joel kissed the side of your mouth, knowing the feeling coursing through your body too well, “Take what you need. Just let her feel good. It’s all okay.”

All okay.

Your walls fluttered again; your moans grew breathy and faint as Joel’s cock wedged deeper and deeper and his kisses grew softer along your face. It was evident you were there—you knew you were there—but then, the way you felt was like no place you’d ever experienced before.

You wanted to tell him something.

You met Joel’s gaze, and you almost did. Then he withdrew and fucked back in, and all words were lost.

The headboard thumped against the wall; you didn’t hear it. Joel’s one free hand was cradling your cheek, and his face drew closer, and right when you sensed the man was about to drop another kiss, you felt release, at last.

A snap.

A dizzying blow.

Your climax struck with all the force of a seismic wave, and, at the same time, you could feel Joel groaning, pulsing, spurting thick ropes of cum into rubber while his gaze stayed locked on yours and your body came apart. The look from him was sickeningly soft, even at his peak.

Intimate, again.

You couldn’t help it.

With your legs trembling, cunt spasming, and eyes still plastered to Joel’s, you felt that something resurface. This time, you didn’t have a hope of keeping it inside.

“I— I— I love you, Joel. I love you,” you stuttered out.

Your voice was tight. Your eyes burned with tears you hadn’t even sensed might threaten to appear with it.

You broke down and felt the sudden urge to sob.

And, just as quickly as you did, you shoved him off.

Regret flooded your chest. You shouldn’t have said that.

Joel was slow to move, no matter how much you tried getting him away. He was still in your bed, crowding your space—and worse yet, he was staring at you, eyes wide.

“Baby—”

“Don’t.” Your gaze was still wider. Wild. And remorseful, “I didn’t— I’m sorry, I just— I didn’t mean to say that.”

Joel had pulled out, but he was still between your legs. You slid backward in the bed, cheeks flaming with heat.

He followed.

He reached out.

“Please don’t,” you begged, shaking your head before his touch could find you. Your pulse thundered in your skull.

The sound almost drowned all other noises out.

At the next, you wished it would deafen you completely.

“I love you, too, baby,” Joel said.

No sooner had his palms come to rest on your face when you were shoving them away. Standing up from the bed.

“You don’t mean that. I didn’t mean it. Just— just stop.”

“I—”

“Need to go.”

You hardly realized it, but you were pointing to the door.

Joel was just getting the condom off, about to stand up from where he was, when a new sound startled you both.

The garage door was closing. Tommy shouted your name saying he needed help bringing something in, and for a second, you both froze. It was happening all over again.

You knew you couldn’t risk getting caught another time. Not with your father in the house, unconscious or not. Silently, you thanked your lucky stars for the opportunity afforded by this moment—getting Joel out—and bent to grab his clothes off the floor and throw them, one by one. He dressed, albeit reluctantly. He opened his mouth to speak again, but you were busy racing to throw on your own clothes, thinking of ways to get him out unnoticed. You heard the door to the garage slam shut downstairs.

“He’s gonna be back any minute. You need to go, Joel.”

“Come with me. We have to talk—”

“I have nothing else to say.”

“But you—”

“I lied. And so did you. Just like before,” you gritted out, “You can spare my feelings—I didn’t fucking mean it.”

He felt bad, that was all. You could see it in his eyes.

The pity, the self-loathing, the guilt; it was all there.

The sight made your stomach turn, and though your legs weren’t steady or sure underneath you in the slightest, you knew you had to go. If Joel didn’t intend on making things easier, you would have to leave first. You felt him reach for you, saw the plea in his eyes and knew how wrong this really was—that you had both fucked up—and couldn’t stay there. Again, you wrenched yourself away.

You didn’t give him the chance to protest. You heard words, dimly, but barely had the sense or self-possession to process one syllable of it, so you left. You bounded down steps, pulse hammering even louder than before, and you didn’t think to turn around or let Joel follow or even remotely allow yourself to stop feeling embarrassed

Leaving was for the best anyway.

If Joel had lied once, he’d lie again.

Downstairs, you cleaned. You folded laundry.

Joel had snuck out a while ago, having slipped from your room, down to the kitchen, and out the back door while Tommy was busy retrieving beer out of the garage. You’d gone down there to distract the younger Miller brother while Joel packed his shit up and left. Like he was meant to do. Luckily, Joel’s departure was quiet, and Tommy was all too happy to have some help toting cases of Budweiser inside. Your dad and Tess were still fast asleep

And now, nearly half an hour later, you had only to sweep the hardwood floor, fold your clothes, and busy yourself as best you could—or else grit your teeth so hard you could’ve broken your jaw. You were so fucking dumb.

“Almost done?” Tommy poked his head inside the room.

You’d told Joel you hated him last month. One measly fuck and you’re spewing, ‘I love you’? What the fuck?

“Just about,” you replied, dropping an old shirt of your dad’s into the nearest, neatest pile, “You heading out?”

Tommy jingled his car keys in his hand and hummed to say that he was. He had a happy, Alabama-just-beat-the-shit-out-of-Tennessee smile on his face as he stood there

“Yeah, I’m going back to Mando’s now to celebrate and watch another game. Was wondering if you wanted to come along,” he said, leaning against the door frame.

“I would, I’ve just got so much shit to do around here—” Gesturing indistinctly to the mountains of clothing stacked high all about the laundry room, “—cleaning.”

Beating yourself over the head, mentally, for ever telling his older brother that you liked him in the first place. Wishing you could crawl in a hole and wallow alone.

“Aww, that can wait. You’re here the whole week—”

“I know. But I gotta keep an eye on my old man, too.”

You rubbed at your face and pretended to get re-invested in a pair of socks with two gaping holes. Your father wouldn’t discard old, ratty clothes to save his life.

Then Tommy was at your side. Pressing against the washing machine and watching you work. Smirking.

“By ‘your old man’ do you mean your dad…or Joel?”

For the second time that day, you almost choked. You tried not to let it show but were sure you failed miserably.

“I— I— what?” you huffed, all terse, feigned incredulity.

“Don’t play stupid. Only suits my dumbass brother,” Tommy returned coolly, turning to face you head-on, “You sound just like him whenever I ask about you.”

“Whatever he’s said—” you started again.

“I heard his truck hightailing it out of here while you came down to distract me. Heard his footsteps, too.”

While your cheeks warmed, Tommy’s smile only grew.

“Aaaaand the headboard was bangin’ pretty loud—”

“Alright!” You threw your hands up, “Fine. OK. Enough.”

Your surrender was fast, far too grossed out to fight it.

You closed your eyes and wanted to die. From next to you, you could hear Tommy’s amusement morph into laughter. It didn’t take much to wring the truth out of you, and for a man who knew you as well as he did, there was really no telling where this would end. Once Tommy Miller called bullshit, there was rarely ever room to argue.

The last time that had happened, he’d sent you and Joel packing to abstinence camp and had never looked back.

Why he was finding humor in this now was beyond you.

You dropped the socks you were holding. You shot him a look as if to ask him just that, and the man shrugged.

“I know y’all skipped out on camp. Could’ve guessed there was some sort of fight between you two after that, because I’ve never seen Joel so goddamn grumpy for—”

“Yeah, well,” you cut in, not wanting to hear the rest, “That’s over now. Seriously. Today was just a fluke.”

Before he could even try to voice his disbelief, you added:

“Just don’t tell my dad about this. Please.”

By the look in his eyes, you could tell that was probably the furthest thing from his mind, but you asked it all the same. Tommy scoffed, and then he shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest like he couldn’t believe a word you were saying now. Like a smug big brother who didn’t know how else to say that you made a terrible liar.

Because that was what he’d been to you before you ever got with Joel in the first place: a good, no-bullshit friend. The recognition of this made you feel even worse inside.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said at length, much to your surprise.

His arms constricted even tighter against his chest and his eyes scanned yours thoughtfully before continuing.

“I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in y’all’s business. What you and Joel do is up to you—I just hated the thought of things, uh…going south. Making it weird between you.”

“Like now,” you said quietly.

A beat.

Tommy scratched his neck.

“Yeah, a little like that,” he replied, breathing out a laugh, “But that’s alright. Joel’s my brother, and I love him, but the man can’t navigate a relationship to save his life. Much less with a girl your age. So just…keep that in mind. I don’t wanna see either of you getting hurt.”

In other words: don’t be stupid and get attached.

‘You’re right,’ was all you knew to say. All you felt capable of telling him now, after what had come to pass that day.

Frankly, you didn’t need to speak another word to get the gist of what he meant, and like he’d said, it wasn’t on him to dictate how you handled things with Joel. The message was clear enough, and the truth was all there.

You couldn’t make this work.

Joel wouldn’t make this work with a girl as young as you.

He’d only said what he said today out of habit—a knee-jerk reaction. He didn’t know what the fuck else to say when his best friend’s kid he’d been banging spilled out ‘I love you.’ And you didn’t blame him for it. But you also couldn’t expect him to be something he wasn’t when all this was ever supposed to be was a casual fuck here and there. You’d been confused and needing to feel safe. He had wanted access to something he shouldn’t have, and now that the thrill of that was wearing off, he felt trapped and cornered into saying what he had, for your sake. The best thing for the two of you now was a clean break, before any more feelings got muddled and misspoken and brought to anything worse than they already were.

It would suck for a while. You knew it would. The next second had you leaning in unconsciously, watching Tommy uncross his arms and pull you in for a hug.

This would really suck.

You buried your face in his chest.

There wasn’t much to say; still, Tommy said it best:

“Whatever happens, you’ll be fine. I know you will.”

[elikajinnie]

Heyyy could you do a oneshot of sh or hs inspired on the song what you need by the weeknd

I Am Everything You Crave - L.H

P: Player!Heeseung X Fem!Reader (recommended age 18+)

Warnings: Non-Idol!au, Suggestive Content, Situationship?, Pursuing, Possessive Behaviour, Begging, Alcohol Consumption, Jealousy if you squint, Mature Content, he kinda down bad.

Synopsis: Working at the campus café was fine—until Lee Heeseung entered the picture. A colleague with a reputation, Heeseung had made it his mission to add you to his collection of women. Much to his surprise, you rejected him. That is, until one party changed everything. You thought you could forget what happened and move on, but Heeseung? He has no intention of letting you go so easily.

a/n: This is very suggestive okay?? since the song is freaky :3

now playing: what you need by the weeknd | fuck yeah by ballinciaga | rude boy by rihanna | shameless by camila cabello

--

Life had its ups and downs. Right and wrong. Yin and yang. It had always been like that, and it would always be like that. Life isn’t easy, and everyone experiences it differently. People make decisions—some good, some bad—and they live with the outcomes.

Your latest decision? Getting a job at the small campus café tucked between the library and the science building. It seemed easy enough. Take orders, make drinks, serve a few pastries, smile. You needed the money, and the huge gaps in your class schedule meant you either spent hours scrolling on your phone in the student lounge or aimlessly wandering around campus. You figured it was time to be productive.

Simple. Easy. A perfect plan.

Yeah, right. Super easy until the news that someone new was starting, and the worst part? You had to train them.

You found out the hard way, too—your manager casually dropped it into conversation while wiping down the espresso machine.

“Oh, by the way,” they said nonchalantly, “the new hire’s coming in tomorrow. You’ll show them the ropes, yeah? You’re good at this stuff.”

You blinked. Good at this stuff? You’d been working here for all of two weeks. Sure, you hadn’t broken the coffee machine yet, but that hardly made you a veteran barista. You wanted to argue, to say there was no way you could teach someone else when you were barely keeping yourself afloat, but the words never made it past your lips.

So, here you were—standing behind the counter the next morning, mentally preparing yourself for a complete disaster.

The door jingled, signaling someone’s arrival, and you looked up with a sigh.

And you physically recoiled, because why was Lee Heeseung standing right in front of you?

Your brain short-circuited for a moment as he stood there, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, looking around the cafe like he owned the place. Out of all the people on campus, it just had to be him. You’d rarely spoken to Lee Heeseung, he wasn’t worth your attention—one of those guys always surrounded by people, mostly girls, and partying like it was his full-time job.

And the worst part? He was good at it. Heeseung had that effortless charm, those annoyingly good looks, and he knew how to use both to his advantage. He could flash one of those lopsided grins and suddenly everyone in the room was falling over themselves to talk to him. Successful without even trying.

You narrowed your eyes as he stepped closer, stopping just short of the counter. For a second, it looked like he was sizing you up, like you were the one out of place.

“Uh… are you the trainer?” he asked, his voice smooth, as if he wasn’t about to ruin your morning.

You stared at him blankly, the words barely registering. This couldn’t be happening. Heeseung—the Lee Heeseung—was the new hire. The guy you were supposed to train.

And just like that, your “simple and easy” job turned into your personal nightmare.

You slowly nodded at first, then answered, “Yeah,” your voice as flat as your enthusiasm. You gestured for him to come behind the counter.

He made his way around to the small door flap on the side, moving with that casual confidence that you already found irritating. You led him to the back, pointing out the row of lockers shoved into the corner.

“You can set your stuff in there,” you said, folding your arms across your chest. “Aprons are on the hook.”

He nodded, tossing his bag into one of the lockers with no hesitation. Then he grabbed an apron, slinging it over his head and tying it around his waist in a way that seemed far too graceful for someone doing something so basic. Of course, even putting on an apron looks good on him, you thought bitterly.

Wordlessly, you grabbed a name tag from the counter nearby and handed it to him. It was generic, just the word Assistant in bold letters, no real customization. He took it with a small smirk, pinning it to his chest like it was some kind of award.

“Assistant, huh?” he said, glancing down at it. Then, he looked back up at you with a grin that had trouble written all over it. “Does this mean I’m your sidekick now?”

You stared at him, unamused. “It means you’re here to learn, not mess around.”

“Got it. I’ll be the best assistant you’ve ever had,” he replied, throwing you a mock salute.

You rolled your eyes and turned on your heel, heading back to the counter. “We’ll see about that. Come on, I’ll show you how to use the register.”

He followed you, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could practically feel the smug energy radiating off him. This was going to be a long day.

You led Heeseung back to the counter, pointing to the register like it was some holy artifact he’d need to respect.

“This is the register,” you said, tapping the touchscreen. “It’s straightforward, but don’t let that fool you. People will make it hard for no reason.”

He nodded, leaning in a little too close to the screen for your liking. His shoulder brushed yours, and you instinctively stepped to the side, putting some much-needed space between you.

“Here’s how it works,” you continued, ignoring the way he casually leaned against the counter like he had all the time in the world. You ran through the basics, showing him how to input orders, handle different payment methods, and deal with the occasional glitch.

“And this,” you added, pointing to the small clipboard tucked in a corner, “is where we keep track of special requests. You’ll hate this thing within a week.”

“Good to know,” he said with a small laugh, like he wasn’t taking any of this seriously.

Next, you moved to the shelves and machines behind the counter, pointing out where everything was.

“Coffee beans are in these bins,” you said, lifting a lid to show him. “Pastries are in the display case—use gloves if you’re touching them. Cups, lids, straws, napkins… all in this section here. And the espresso machine—” You gestured toward it like it was a ticking time bomb. “—don’t touch this yet. Not unless you want to break it and have the entire staff hate you.”

Heeseung raised his hands in mock surrender. “Got it. Hands off the espresso machine. Anything else I’m banned from touching?”

“Pretty much everything until I say so,” you shot back, turning to face him. “For the next three days, you’ll shadow me. Watch what I do, ask questions if you’re confused, but don’t try to take over. Once you get the hang of things, you can start doing some tasks on your own.”

He tilted his head, his lips twitching like he was holding back a smile. “So, I’m basically your personal assistant for three days?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re here to learn the job, not to entertain yourself.”

“Right, right,” he said, holding back a chuckle. “Serious business.”

“Exactly.” You folded your arms, watching as he leaned against the counter again, a smug glint in his eye.

Something about him made your patience wear thin, and you already knew these three days were going to test every ounce of your self-control. But you weren’t going to let Lee Heeseung get to you. Not a chance.

The door opened, and the bell above it gave a cheerful ding. Immediately, your customer service smile snapped into place, and you turned to greet the new arrival.

“Hi! Welcome in,” you said brightly. “What can I help you with today?”

The student—a guy in a hoodie and glasses—gave a polite nod before stepping closer to glance at the menu board hanging above the counter. After a moment, he pointed. “I’ll take a medium latte and, uh… one of those chocolate croissants.”

“Got it,” you replied, turning to the register. But not before noticing that Heeseung was watching you intently, his expression curious, almost amused. Ignoring him, you quickly entered the order, your fingers flying over the screen as you spoke. “So here’s how it works,” you said to him, motioning toward the display. “You tap the drink size, then pick the pastry from the bakery menu. Easy.”

He nodded, his eyes following your movements as if committing everything to memory.

Once you’d printed the receipt, you handed it to the student with another practiced smile. “Your total is on there, and I’ll bring everything out to your table in just a minute!” The student murmured a thank you before heading to a nearby seat.

Turning to Heeseung, you gestured toward the pastry display. “All right, rookie. Go grab that chocolate croissant and give it to the customer. Just use the tongs and put it in one of the small paper bags over there.”

He gave you a mock salute, grinning. “Yes, boss.”

You rolled your eyes, already turning to the espresso machine. It hummed quietly as you prepped the steam wand and started on the latte. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Heeseung make his way to the display case, grab a pair of tongs, and carefully place the croissant into a bag like it was some precious artifact.

When he finally handed it to the student, you couldn’t help but listen in as he said, “Here you go. Chocolate croissant, fresh and perfect. Just like I made it myself.”

The student chuckled awkwardly, clearly unsure how to respond, and you had to fight the urge to laugh. Of course Heeseung couldn’t resist being a show-off.

“Good job,” you muttered under your breath as he came back to the counter.

“Thanks,” he said, leaning against the counter again, that ever-present smirk tugging at his lips. “See? I’m a natural.”

You ignored him, focusing on finishing the latte and pouring the steamed milk into the cup. Sliding the drink onto a tray, you carried it over to the customer, who smiled and thanked you.

As you returned to the counter, Heeseung was watching you with an amused expression.

“What?” you asked, arching a brow.

“Nothing,” he said, clearly lying. “You just take this whole customer service thing really seriously.”

“It’s called doing my job,” you shot back. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said with a wink. “I’m already learning from the best.”

You sighed, already bracing yourself for how long the rest of the day was going to feel.

For the rest of the shift, you took Heeseung through the rest of the basics. You showed him how to restock the pastry display, explained the cleaning routine, and gave him a quick rundown of how to prepare simple drink orders. At first, you were all business—focused on making sure he didn’t screw anything up. But after a while, you started to notice something… entertaining.

Heeseung didn’t just follow your instructions—he did it almost eagerly. Whether it was wiping down counters or organizing cups, he jumped at every little task you gave him. It was, admittedly, kind of fun ordering him around.

“Go grab the cups from the storage room,” you said at one point, just to see how he’d react.

Without hesitation, he nodded and walked off to fetch them, returning a minute later with the stack of cups in hand. As he set them down on the counter, he turned to you, that expectant look back in his eyes.

You frowned slightly. “What?”

“Did I do good?” he asked, his tone light but with a hint of genuine curiosity.

You blinked at him, caught off guard. Did he just… ask for praise?

“Uh… yeah,” you said, a little unsure. “You did good.”

The way his face lit up at that simple acknowledgment made you pause. Heeseung looked… happy. Actually happy. Not smug.

From then on, you couldn’t help but notice it. Every time he finished a task, he’d glance at you like he was waiting for approval. And every time you gave him even the smallest bit of praise, his smile would grow, and he’d seem even more motivated to keep going.

“Nice job restocking the pastries,” you said after he carefully arranged the croissants and muffins in the display case.

“Thanks,” he said, his grin widening as he shut the glass door.

“Good work wiping down the tables,” you added later, watching as he gave the last one an extra wipe just to make sure it was spotless.

“Thanks, boss,” he said, standing a little straighter.

It became a game in your head, almost without you realizing it. Every time he did something right—or even just passable—you threw him a little compliment.

“Great job with the lids.”

“You’re getting the hang of the register.”

“Nice work steaming that milk.”

Each time, he’d light up like you’d just told him he’d won a trophy, his energy growing as the shift went on. And as much as you hated to admit it, it was… kind of cute.

By the end of the shift, Heeseung was practically buzzing, his earlier smugness replaced by something more genuine. And you couldn’t deny it—it felt oddly satisfying to see him so eager to prove himself.

As he pulled off his apron at the end of the shift, he glanced at you one last time, his expression hopeful. “So… did I survive day one?”

You smirked, tossing your own apron into the laundry bin. “You survived. Barely.”

He laughed, his shoulders relaxing. “Good. Can’t wait to see what you make me do tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

You quickly grabbed your bag from the locker and didn’t waste any time heading out the door.

You slipped your phone out of your pocket as you walked, scrolling mindlessly through notifications and you were halfway through reading a message when a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“Hey, wait up!”

You didn’t even have to look to know who it was. Sure enough, Heeseung jogged up beside you, falling into step like he’d been walking with you all along.

“What, no goodbye after all my hard work?” he teased, his tone dripping with mock offense.

You glanced at him briefly, then back at your phone. “Goodbye,” you said flatly, earning a soft chuckle from him.

He didn’t take the hint. Instead, he kept talking, launching into some story about how he almost burned down his dorm’s microwave last week because he forgot to add water to his cup noodles. You hummed in acknowledgment, barely listening, more focused on the text thread in front of you than his words.

But even as you tried to tune him out, you couldn’t ignore how close he was walking next to you. His arm brushed yours more than once, and he seemed to lean in slightly every time he spoke, like he wanted to make sure you heard him—even though he was plenty loud already.

And then there was his tone. It wasn’t just casual conversation; there was something… different about it. The way he dragged out certain words, the way his smile lingered as he glanced at you, the way he leaned a little closer when he joked—it all felt too deliberate to be innocent.

You finally tore your eyes away from your phone, catching the tail end of whatever he was saying. “…but honestly, I think the ramen was just defective. You ever had something like that happen?”

“Hm,” you hummed again, your answer vague.

He raised an eyebrow at you, his grin widening. “You’re not even listening, are you?”

“Not really,” you admitted without hesitation, slipping your phone into your pocket as you approached the entrance to your building.

He laughed at that, completely unfazed. “Wow, I see how it is. I pour my heart out, and you just ignore me. You’re cold.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t ignore you if you had something important to say,” you shot back, finally giving him a proper glance.

“Everything I say is important,” he said, flashing you a playful smile that you could only describe as shamelessly flirty.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way his smile lingered just a little too long. “Well, thanks for walking me to class, but I can take it from here.”

“Oh, so now I’m dismissed?” he teased, taking a half step back but still lingering just close enough to make his presence known.

“Yep. Bye, Heeseung,” you said, your voice pointed as you turned toward the door.

“See you tomorrow, boss,” he called after you, his voice laced with amusement.

You didn’t bother looking back, but you could practically feel his grin as you walked away.

--

After your morning classes, you made your way back to the cafe, already bracing yourself for another day of dealing with Heeseung. When you stepped through the door, the first thing you saw was him leaning casually over the counter, his apron already on, talking to a group of girls.

You sighed to yourself. Typical.

From the way they giggled and leaned in, it was obvious they were eating up every word he was saying. And Heeseung, of course, seemed to thrive under the attention, throwing out a smirk here, a playful laugh there, and just enough charm to keep them hanging on his every word.

It wasn’t until you caught bits and pieces of his smooth, too smooth tone—compliments that were barely disguised as flirty remarks—that you really rolled your eyes. You weren’t surprised. Flirting was practically his second language.

When he finally noticed you standing there, his entire demeanor shifted in an instant. He straightened up quickly, waving at you with an almost boyish smile. Gone was the smooth talker leaning on the counter; now he looked like someone who’d just been caught red-handed.

You gave him a small, unenthusiastic wave back, not bothering to stop as you headed straight for the back room.

Inside, you grabbed your apron from the hook, tying it around your waist, and leaving your bag in the locker.

But when you turned around, ready to head back out, you nearly jumped.

Heeseung was standing in the doorway, blocking your path, a smug smile already plastered on his face like he’d been waiting for you to notice him.

“What are you doing?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, your tone edging into annoyance.

“Just wanted to say hi properly,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “You rushed off so fast, I didn’t get the chance.”

“You were busy,” you pointed out, crossing your arms. “Looked like you were having fun.”

He shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. “They were just asking about the menu. Nothing serious.”

“Uh-huh,” you replied, unimpressed. “And I’m sure all that flirting was part of the menu explanation?”

He grinned, not even trying to deny it. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping forward. “Move. I have work to do.”

But instead of moving, he stayed firmly in place, blocking the door like he had no intention of letting you pass.

“Wait,” he said, his grin softening into something more playful. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

You froze, blinking up at him. “Jealous?” you echoed, then let out a sharp laugh. “Not even in your dreams, Heeseung. Now move.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender but still smiling as he stepped aside. “No need to threaten me, boss. I’m just messing with you.”

You gave him a pointed look as you brushed past him, heading back to the counter. But as you did, you couldn’t help but notice the way his grin lingered, like he’d just gotten away with something.

The rest of the shift carried on as usual—or at least, you tried to make it usual. Heeseung, of course, wasn’t making it easy.

He followed your instructions like he had yesterday, doing everything you asked without hesitation. But you couldn’t help but notice… changes. Subtle at first, but as the hours went on, they became impossible to ignore.

For one, he’d started staring. A lot.

You could feel his eyes on you almost constantly—when you were at the register, when you were showing him how to steam milk again, when you were wiping down counters. It wasn’t just a casual glance, either. No, this was the kind of stare that felt heavy, like he was watching you. Like he was noticing things he probably shouldn’t be noticing.

And when you did catch him looking, he didn’t even try to hide it. Instead, he’d just flash you this lazy grin, like he wanted you to know he’d been caught.

“Can I help you with something?” you asked pointedly after the third—or was it fourth?—time you caught him staring.

He shrugged, unbothered. “Just observing. You know, trying to learn from the best.”

“Sure,” you muttered, turning back to the espresso machine.

But the staring wasn’t even the worst part. It was the way he spoke to you. Everything he said was low, smooth, and infuriatingly deliberate.

“Hey, boss,” he said at one point, leaning just a little too close to you as you refilled the sugar packets at the counter. “You always look this focused, or is it just when I’m around?”

You didn’t even look up. “It’s called doing my job, Heeseung.”

He chuckled, his voice warm and annoyingly charming. “Just trying to make it more fun.”

When you showed him how to set up the sandwich press later, he leaned in closer than he needed to, his shoulder brushing yours as he peered at the controls.

“So, when do I get a promotion?” he asked, his voice low enough that it sent a faint shiver down your spine.

“A promotion?” you repeated, rolling your eyes as you stepped back to put some distance between you. “You haven’t even lasted a full week yet.”

He smirked, straightening up. “Yeah, but I’m doing a great job, aren’t I? You tell me all the time.”

“You’re doing the bare minimum,” you said flatly, trying to ignore the way his smirk made your stomach flip.

“Still counts,” he replied, winking.

By the time your break rolled around, you were honestly ready to strangle him—or maybe strangle yourself for letting him get to you. You’d only known him for two days, and yet he was already worming his way under your skin in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

You sighed as you finally sank into the chair in the back room, a half-eaten sandwich on a napkin in front of you and your laptop open to a half-finished school assignment. Break time was supposed to be your one reprieve from Heeseung’s constant attention, and you were determined to make the most of it.

The cafe wasn’t busy, and you’d left him at the front with strict instructions to just hold down the fort, take simple orders, and not burn anything. He had nodded enthusiastically, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that leaving him alone might have been a mistake. Still, you couldn’t babysit him forever.

With a deep breath, you focused on your laptop, determined to finish at least a paragraph of your essay before your break ended.

But, of course, Lee Heeseung had other plans.

Not even five minutes into your break, the door creaked open, and there he was, leaning casually against the doorframe with that infuriatingly smug grin on his face.

"Shouldn't you be up front?" you asked without looking up, your tone flat as you typed out another sentence.

“I am,” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Just came to check on you. You know, make sure you’re not slacking off back here.”

You gave him a deadpan look, your hands hovering over the keyboard. “I’m the one slacking? You’re the one who left the counter unattended.”

“It’s fine,” he said, waving you off as he stepped further into the room. “There’s no one out there right now. Plus, I work better when I know my boss is doing okay.”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to your screen. “I’m fine. Now get back out there before someone walks in and thinks we don’t know what we’re doing.”

But instead of leaving, he sat down in the chair across from you, propping his chin on his hand as he watched you with a lazy smile.

“What are you working on?” he asked, nodding toward your laptop.

“Schoolwork,” you said shortly, hoping he’d take the hint and leave.

“Wow,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “So hardworking. Do you ever take a break, or is that not a thing for you?”

“This is my break,” you snapped, glaring at him. “Which you’re currently ruining.”

He grinned, completely unfazed. “Come on, boss. You’ve gotta learn to relax a little. Life’s not all about essays and coffee orders.”

“It is when you’re trying to pass your classes and keep a job,” you retorted, taking a bite of your sandwich.

He let out a low hum, watching you with an intensity that made you feel like you were under a microscope. “You know,” he said after a moment, his tone shifting into something softer—almost teasing, “you look kinda cute like that.”

You froze mid-bite, your eyes snapping to his.

“What?” you said, your voice flat but your ears burning.

“Just saying,” he said with a shrug, his smile widening as if he knew exactly what he was doing. “You’ve got this little furrow in your brow when you’re focused. It’s cute.”

You stared at him for a moment, debating whether it was worth throwing your sandwich at his face.

“Heeseung,” you said finally, your voice low and warning.

“Yes, boss?”

“Get. Back. To. Work.”

He laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender as he stood up. “Alright, alright, I’m going. Don’t miss me too much.”

You groaned as he sauntered out of the room, leaving you alone again—but not before tossing one last wink over his shoulder.

For a moment, you just sat there, staring at the door and wondering how you’d managed to get stuck with the most annoying coworker on the planet.

You tried to push Heeseung’s antics out of your mind, refocusing on your laptop. But it wasn’t as easy as you’d hoped. Every time you typed another sentence, your mind wandered back to the way he had called you cute. The audacity of him, the nerve—he just said whatever came to mind, didn’t he? Like there were no consequences.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to focus. Heeseung was just being Heeseung—cocky, shameless, and way too full of himself. You weren’t going to let him get under your skin.

Another five minutes passed. Your essay was slowly taking shape, the sound of typing helped you settle into a groove. Finally, some peace and quiet.

But, of course, that didn’t last.

The door creaked open again, and you didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

“Heeseung,” you said sharply, “if you’re not coming back here to tell me the cafe is on fire, I swear—”

“Relax,” he said, stepping into the room with a to-go cup in his hand. “Just thought you might need a little pick-me-up.”

You glanced up, and sure enough, there he was, holding out a cup of coffee like it was some grand peace offering.

“What is this?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Coffee,” he said, completely unbothered. “I made it myself. Thought you’d want a break from whatever sad sandwich you’ve been eating.”

You looked at the cup suspiciously. “You didn’t put anything weird in it, did you?”

“Wow,” he said, clutching his chest like you’d just insulted his honor. “No faith in me at all. That hurts, boss. Really.”

You rolled your eyes but took the cup anyway, cautiously bringing it to your lips. The coffee was… actually pretty good.

“Not bad,” you admitted, trying to keep your tone neutral.

Heeseung’s face lit up like you’d just handed him a gold medal. “See? I’m a fast learner. You might be stuck with me, but at least I’m good at what I do.”

“Barely,” you muttered, but your lips twitched upward despite yourself.

He pulled out the chair across from you again, sitting down with that same cocky grin.

“Don’t you have work to do?” you asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“The front’s all clear,” he replied, leaning back in the chair. “And besides, I’d rather hang out here with you.”

You rolled your eyes, taking another sip of the coffee. “You’re strange, you know that?”

“I’ve been called worse,” he said with a wink.

You shook your head, biting back a smile as you turned back to your laptop. But even as you tried to focus, you couldn’t ignore the way he stayed there, watching you like you were the most interesting thing in the room.

“So, there’s this party on Saturday,” he suddenly said, breaking the silence that had been hanging over the room for minutes, his tone easy but clearly fishing for something.

You paused mid-motion, glancing over at him. “A party?”

“Yeah,” he said, sitting up straight now and looking at you. “It’s at my friend Jay’s place. Big house, lots of people, good music… You should come.”

You blinked, surprised. Heeseung inviting you to a party wasn’t something you’d expected, especially since you weren`t close.

For a moment, you just stared at him, unsure how to respond.

“What?” he asked with a small grin, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t like parties or something?”

“I didn’t say that,” you replied, crossing your arms. “I just wasn’t expecting you to invite me.”

“Why not?” he asked, leaning a little closer, his grin widening. “You’re cool. And besides, I figured you could use a break. You know, have some actual fun for once.”

You scoffed, about to reject him outright with a “Sorry, I’m busy,” but the words caught in your throat.

The truth was, you weren’t busy. Your weekend was looking painfully empty, and you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d gone out for something other than groceries or school. You’d been drowning in assignments and deadlines for so long that the thought of getting out, even for just one night, sounded oddly tempting.

And besides, you’d heard about Jay. The guy was rich—practically loaded—and you knew his parties were worth it. You weren’t exactly a party animal, but a night with good music, decent booze (and not the cheap stuff from corner stores), and a chance to let loose didn’t sound half bad.

You leaned over the table, pretending to think it over, and caught the way Heeseung’s eyes flickered to yours. He almost seemed… eager, like he was waiting on the edge of his seat for your answer. His gaze lingered just a second too long, and you noticed the way he leaned in slightly, like he couldn’t help himself.

Was he… entranced?

The thought made you pause for a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Alright,” you said finally, sitting back in your chair. “I’ll go.”

His face lit up almost immediately, and you could tell he was trying to hide how pleased he was.

“Really?” he asked, his grin growing.

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug, trying to keep your tone casual. “Why not? I could use a night out.”

“Great,” he said, his excitement obvious. “You won’t regret it. Trust me, Jay throws the best parties. I’ll text you the details.”

“You don’t even have my number,” you pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

“Not yet,” he said smoothly, pulling out his phone and holding it out to you with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes but took the phone anyway, typing in your number before handing it back to him.

“Don’t make me regret this,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him.

He grinned as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I won’t. Promise.”

The next few days passed in a blur and as much as you hated to admit it, Heeseung was actually learning everything pretty quickly. Sure, he still made the occasional mistake—like giving someone oat milk instead of almond milk—but those moments were fewer and farther between.

You had to give him credit: when he focused, he was good at what he did. The problem was getting him to focus.

Heeseung always found ways to make things interesting. Whether it was asking too many unnecessary questions just to mess with you or deliberately trying to get a reaction out of you with his relentless teasing, he kept you on your toes. And yet, he still managed to meet all the training goals you set for him, almost like he wanted to impress you.

Finally, by the end of the week, his training was officially done. He knew how to use the register, make all the drinks, handle pastries, and even clean up without leaving a mess behind. So, when the time came to hand him his permanent nametag, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of accomplishment.

You stood behind the counter as Heeseung wiped down a table nearby.

“Hey,” you called out, catching his attention.

He turned toward you, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, boss?”

You held up the shiny new nametag with his name etched on it in neat, bold letters: Heeseung.

“Congratulations,” you said, holding it out to him. “You’re officially not the assistant anymore.”

His eyes lit up when he saw it, and for a moment, you thought he looked almost… touched?

He took the nametag from your hand and stared at it like it was some kind of trophy. Then, with no hesitation, he ripped off the old “Assistant” nametag and tossed it on the counter.

“Finally,” he said, grinning as he hooked the new nametag onto his apron. “I was getting sick of being ‘Assistant.’”

You crossed your arms, smirking. “Don’t let it go to your head. You’re still the newbie.”

He shot you a playful look. “Yeah, but now I’ve got my actual name. Feels good.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” you teased. “You’re still not getting a promotion anytime soon.”

“Aw, come on,” he said, leaning against the counter with that familiar lazy grin. “You know I’ve been doing great. Admit it—you’re impressed.”

“I’ll admit you’ve survived training,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s about it.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re tough to please, boss. But don’t worry—I’ll win you over eventually.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the small smile tugging at your lips.

“Get back to work, Heeseung,” you said, brushing past him to restock the pastry case.

But as you moved, you caught him staring at his nametag again, his grin still firmly in place.

By the time Saturday rolled around, you stood in front of your mirror, adjusting your outfit for the third—no, fourth—time. Your hair and makeup were done perfectly, your clothes hugged you in all the right places, and yet, you found yourself staring down at Heeseung’s message with a sense of hesitation.

Heeseung: Party starts at 8. Jay’s place. Don’t be late, boss

He’d attached the address below, followed by another string of teasing texts you hadn’t bothered to reply to.

You bit your lip, the urge to second-guess yourself creeping in. What were you even doing? Parties weren’t exactly your thing—not anymore, at least. You’d spent so much time lately focused on school and work that the thought of walking into a house full of strangers felt overwhelming.

Maybe you should cancel. You could just text Heeseung, say something came up, and spend the evening curled up with your laptop and a blanket instead. He’d probably roll his eyes, call you boring, and then leave you alone.

But then again, when was the last time you let yourself actually have fun? You couldn’t even remember the last time you went out, much less to a party. And besides, Heeseung had been so weirdly persistent about you coming. You could already picture his smug little grin when he saw you show up.

You shook your head at yourself, sighing.

“Get it together,” you muttered, turning back to the mirror.

You straightened your outfit, smoothing out any wrinkles and with one last glance at Heeseung’s message, you took a deep breath and grabbed your bag.

It was just a party. You’d go, stay for a little while, maybe have a drink or two, and then leave. No big deal.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you locked your door and headed out.

When you arrived at Jay’s house, you weren’t surprised to find it exactly as you’d expected: massive, loud, and packed with people. Music thumped through the walls, and the glow of colorful lights spilled out through the windows and onto the front lawn.

Though the moment you stepped inside Jay’s house, the sheer size of the place struck you again. You’d been to a few big houses before, but this? This was something else entirely. The ceilings were impossibly high, the decor looked like it had been ripped straight out of a magazine, and the crowd of people packed into the house made it feel like a full-blown club instead of a casual get-together.

You maneuvered through the throng of people, recognizing a few faces here and there—some classmates, some mutual friends, and plenty of people you didn’t know. A few offered you quick smiles or waves, but most were too busy dancing, drinking, or talking loudly to notice you weaving through the chaos.

You found a massive coat rack—overflowing with jackets and bags—and hung yours up carefully before stepping back into the crowd. The noise was almost overwhelming, but you quickly found your footing, asking a couple of people nearby where the kitchen was.

“Down the hall, to the left!” one guy shouted over the music, pointing in the direction.

You nodded your thanks and headed that way, weaving through more bodies until you finally reached the kitchen.

And just like you’d predicted, it was a dream come true for any broke college student.

The massive kitchen island was completely covered in bottles of alcohol—every drink you could dream of—all the expensive brands that only the rich could casually stock up on without a second thought. There were mixers, fruit garnishes, pre-made cocktails, and even a blender shoved to one side.

Your eyes scanned the island, and you couldn’t help but smirk. Jay definitely wasn’t messing around.

You made your way to the fridge, pulling it open to find even more options stacked neatly inside. After a moment of deliberation, you grabbed a cold bottle and popped the cap off with a satisfying snap.

You tossed the cap into the trash, lifting the bottle to your lips and taking a long sip. The sweet taste was like heaven, and you couldn’t help but hum in satisfaction.

“Enjoying yourself already?”

The familiar voice came from behind you, and you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Heeseung.

Of course.

You sighed, lowering the bottle and glancing over your shoulder to see him leaning against the doorway with that same lazy grin he always wore. He looked effortlessly good, as usual, in a casual black button-up and jeans that fit him a little too well. His dark hair was slightly tousled, like he hadn’t bothered trying too hard—but somehow, that only made him look better.

“Didn’t expect to see you here already,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and strolling over to you.

“Didn’t expect you to find me so fast,” you shot back, taking another sip from your bottle.

“What can I say?” he teased, grabbing a random bottle from the island and inspecting it. “I’ve got good instincts.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t bother responding, instead focusing on your drink.

Heeseung unscrewed the cap of his bottle, taking a swig before leaning against the counter beside you. “So,” he started, glancing at you with a sly smile, “what do you think? Not bad, huh?”

You gestured vaguely around the kitchen. “It’s… a lot.”

He laughed. “Yeah, Jay doesn’t do anything halfway. Wait until you see the backyard. He rented a whole fire pit setup and some fancy outdoor lights. It’s insane.”

“Of course he did,” you muttered, shaking your head.

Heeseung tilted his head, watching you closely. “Not a party person, huh?”

“Not at the moment,” you admitted, taking another sip. “But… I figured I could use a break.”

Heeseung’s smile softened, just slightly. “Well, you came to the right place. Trust me, by the end of the night, you’re gonna be glad you showed up.”

“Confident, aren’t you?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned, raising his bottle in a mock toast. “Always.”

You clinked your bottle lightly against his, rolling your eyes but unable to stop the small smile that tugged at your lips.

Heeseung downed the rest of his drink, then nudged you lightly with his elbow. “Come on, boss,” he said, flashing you his trademark grin. “I gotta introduce you to the crew.”

“Your crew?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, my friends,” he clarified, already motioning for you to follow him. “Don’t worry, they’re cool. You’ll like them.”

You trailed after him through the crowded house, sidestepping groups of people until you reached a section of the living room where a group of guys stood huddled, laughing over something you couldn’t hear over the music.

“Yo!” Heeseung called out, catching their attention.

The group turned to look, and almost instantly, they greeted Heeseung with wide grins and casual fist bumps. Then their attention shifted to you, curious but friendly.

“This is my boss,” Heeseung announced, slinging an arm over your shoulder with no warning. “You know, the one who’s been making me work my ass off all week?”

You stiffened under his arm, giving him a pointed look, but he didn’t seem to care.

The group laughed, and one of them—a guy with bleached hair and an easygoing vibe—stepped forward. “Ah, so you’re the one Heeseung’s been talking about nonstop,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Sunoo. Nice to meet you.”

You hesitated for a second, then shook his hand. “Nice to meet you too.”

The rest of the group followed suit, introducing themselves as Jake, Sunghoon, and Jungwon.

As they started chatting, you found yourself relaxing a little. They were cool, just like Heeseung said. You even caught yourself laughing at a few of their jokes.

But after a while, you excused yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment to yourself. The noise and energy of the party were starting to catch up to you, and you figured a quick breather would help.

But by the time you came back, though, the group had completely disappeared.

You frowned, glancing around the living room. Nothing. No Heeseung, no Sunoo, no one you recognized. Shrugging, you decided not to overthink it. Maybe they’d moved to another part of the house.

Instead, you headed back to the kitchen, grabbing another drink from the fridge. This time, you opted for something stronger, figuring you might as well enjoy yourself while you were here.

With the bottle in hand, you made your way to the main area where most people were dancing. Leaning against the wall, you watched the crowd sway and move to the heavy beat of the music.

But then someone approached you.

“Hey,” a guy’s voice said, drawing your attention.

You turned to see a soft-looking guy with an easy smile standing next to you. His energy felt entirely different from the usual partygoers—calmer, more approachable.

“Hi,” you replied, tilting your head slightly.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” he said, offering you his hand. “I’m Shotaro.”

You shook his hand, noting how friendly his smile was. “Nice to meet you, Shotaro. I’m—”

“—Heeseung’s boss, right?” he finished for you, grinning.

You blinked in surprise. “Uh, yeah. How did you know that?”

“Heeseung’s been talking about you,” he said casually, leaning against the wall beside you.

You felt a twinge of something you couldn’t quite place. “I see.”

“So,” Shotaro continued, taking a sip from his drink. “How’s it been, working with Heeseung? He’s not causing too much trouble, is he?”

You let out a small laugh. “Oh, he’s definitely trouble. But he’s not… terrible.”

Shotaro chuckled, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “That sounds about right. Heeseung’s kind of a handful, but he’s a good guy.”

“Is that your way of warning me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not at all,” Shotaro said quickly, his tone light and playful. “Just… preparing you for what you’ve probably already figured out.”

As the conversation continued, you found yourself enjoying his company. But out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a familiar figure lingering near the edge of the room, watching.

Heeseung.

His expression was unreadable, but the way his eyes stayed locked on you made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

You tried to shake off the uncomfortable feeling that crept over you, focusing back on Shotaro’s words. He was still talking, casually, but your attention kept drifting. Your eyes flicked back to Heeseung, who hadn’t moved, still standing in the same spot with his gaze fixed on you.

There was something about the way he was looking at you—intense, but not quite… angry? Maybe it was something else entirely. You couldn’t tell. It wasn’t a look you were used to seeing from him, especially not with the easygoing vibe he’d always had around you.

You couldn’t look away. Not at first, at least.

Shotaro noticed your distraction, following your line of sight and smiling knowingly. “I think he’s waiting for you,” he said, his tone light but laced with something that you couldn’t quite place.

You blinked, tearing your gaze away from Heeseung. “What?” you asked, momentarily disoriented.

“I said,” Shotaro continued with a slight grin, “I think your friend is waiting for you.”

You could feel your cheeks warming slightly. "He’s not—"

But before you could finish, Shotaro waved a hand dismissively. “No need to explain. It’s pretty obvious.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but your thoughts were a tangled mess now, and whatever you’d planned to say evaporated when you saw Heeseung take a few steps toward you.

Shotaro noticed the change too and gave you a sly smile. “I’ll let you handle that.”

You barely had time to react before Heeseung was standing in front of you, his posture still casual but something about his energy shifted the moment he stood near you.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling a little more self-aware. “What’s up?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Heeseung didn’t immediately answer, instead studying you for a moment as if he was trying to figure something out. His eyes flicked over to Shotaro, who had already started talking to someone else close by.

“I thought you were having fun,” Heeseung finally said, his tone softer than usual.

“I am,” you replied, a little defensively, but the way he looked at you made the words feel like they didn’t hold much weight.

He chuckled, leaning slightly closer. “You know, you don’t have to be so uptight. Relax. This is supposed to be fun, right?”

His closeness made you feel like your skin was on fire, and you took a small step back, instinctively trying to put a little more space between you. “I’m fine,” you said, forcing a smile. “Just getting a drink and talking to people.”

Heeseung’s eyes darkened, but it was subtle, like a flicker of something deeper, something that was just below the surface. You tried to ignore the sudden heat building in your chest. “I’m sure you’re having a great time,” he replied, his voice low but just loud enough to make you question if there was something more to his words.

You shifted, glancing around the room again, feeling uneasy under his intense gaze.

“So,” you began, trying to change the subject, “how’s your night going?”

Heeseung shrugged, not answering immediately. Then he flashed that signature smirk of his, though it looked a little more forced this time. “Better now that you’re sticking around.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, half-amused and half-annoyed. "Yeah, sure."

He stepped a little closer, almost uncomfortably so. "You should stick with me tonight," he said, as if it were a casual suggestion, but there was something to his voice that made it feel like an order.

“Maybe later,” you replied, forcing yourself to stay casual even as you felt the pressure of his proximity.

But Heeseung didn’t move away. Instead, he held your gaze for a long moment. “I’ll be waiting.”

Before you could react, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there.

You stood there for a moment, trying to shake off the feeling, you made your way to the kitchen. You needed a minute, maybe something a little stronger to clear your head. The noise of the party faded as you opened the fridge, scanning the shelves for something that might do the trick.

You reached for a bottle of something dark and smooth—whiskey, you thought, perfect. The cap twisted off easily, and without hesitating, you brought the bottle to your lips, taking a deep swig. The burn was immediate, scorching your throat, but you welcomed it. The heat spread through your chest, distracting you from the confusion still swirling in your mind.

You winced slightly at the strong taste, but it didn’t bother you as much as it should have. In fact, you felt a little relieved.

With the bottle still in your hand, you moved to the counter, leaning against it as you wiped your hand across your forehead, pushing your hair back from your face.

Was Heeseung always like this? So… forward?

And why did it bother you so much?

--

You stood there in the bathroom, leaning over the sink as you splashed cold water on your face. The bitterness of the drinks still lingered in your mouth, and you couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. You rubbed your lips together, trying to rid yourself of the aftertaste, all the while trying to steady your breath. The last thing you needed was to get sick and ruin the night.

Just as you finished wiping your mouth with a tissue, you heard knocks on the door.

“Give me a minute,” you shouted, your voice a little tighter than you intended as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You were trying to compose yourself, trying to act like everything was fine, even though you were sure it wasn’t.

You grabbed your lipstick from your bag, carefully applying it to your lips. Then, before you could finish, the door suddenly swung open, and you froze.

Standing in the doorway was Heeseung, his expression unreadable as he stepped inside, blocking the exit with his body. You blinked, unable to mask your shock.

“Heeseung—”

He didn’t let you finish. Without a word, he closed and locked the door behind him, the click of the lock echoing in the small, quiet room.

Your heart raced, and you instinctively took a step back, eyes widening as you tried to process the sudden change in the atmosphere.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice coming out sharper than you’d intended.

Heeseung didn’t respond immediately, his eyes scanning your face as if he was taking his time to study you. The playful smile that was usually on his lips was gone, replaced by something more serious, more intense. He took a slow step toward you, and you instinctively stepped back, your back hitting the sink with a small jolt.

“You’re avoiding me,” he finally said, his tone low and steady.

“I’m not avoiding you,” you protested, though even you could tell it didn’t sound convincing.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly. “Then why are you not beside me?”

You swallowed, the heat of his gaze making you feel trapped in the small space. “I am—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, his voice soft but insistent. “I know what you’re doing.”

Your chest tightened as the distance between you grew smaller. You couldn’t help the way your body reacted to his proximity—how your breath caught in your throat, how your pulse quickened.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything to break the tension, but Heeseung cut you off. “I’ve been waiting for you to stop running from me, to give in and see,” he said, his voice smooth. “And I’m not going to let you get away tonight.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, and the world around you seemed to narrow down to just Heeseung, his gaze never leaving yours.

Your mind was racing, thoughts scattered in every direction as Heeseung closed the distance between you. His bottle was placed carelessly on the counter behind you, the sound of glass clinking against porcelain barely reaching your ears over the pounding of your heartbeat. His eyes never wavered from yours, as he leaned down, his arms caging you in against the sink.

You couldn’t help but look down at his lips. They were so close—too close—and you felt the pull toward them. Was it the alcohol clouding your thoughts? Or was it simply him?

You didn’t know. All you knew was that the bathroom suddenly felt unbearably hot.

Your mind screamed to pull away, to stop this before it went any further, but your body betrayed you. The space between you closed completely, and before you could say anything—or even fully register what was happening—Heeseung kissed you.

It was fast, surprising, and far more urgent than you expected. His lips were warm against yours, and for a split second, you froze. The kiss was deep, his hand coming to rest beside your face, his thumb brushing against your jaw. You could feel the force of his kiss, the way he was pulling you into him, and something inside you stirred.

You couldn’t think. You couldn’t focus on anything but the heat of his kiss, the way it made your heart race.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, he pulled away slightly, his lips hovering just above yours. His eyes were hungry—more intense than you had ever seen them before.

"You don’t have to say anything," he murmured, his voice low, almost like a warning. His lips brushed against yours again, a fleeting touch that made your stomach twist. "I know what you’re thinking."

You swallowed, your mind a blur as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. But the only thing you could focus on was him.

Heeseung didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, his fingers brushed against your skin, tracing a path down your neck as he moved to kiss you again, more slowly this time, as if savoring the moment.

And despite everything inside you telling you to stop—to pull away and think—you couldn’t. You didn’t want to.

Your hands instinctively moved to his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him back, the feel of his lips against yours made everything inside you tighten. The kiss deepened, and that was when you felt him shift, his hands slipping under your thighs and lifting you effortlessly off the ground. The action caught you off guard for a moment, but you didn’t have time to process it before he set you down on the counter, careful to avoid the sink.

His body moved in between your legs, and you instinctively parted them to make room for him, while his hands slid up your sides, fingers brushing the curve of your waist.

At that moment everything felt like it was spiraling out of control. But instead of pulling away, you found yourself leaning closer to him, your hands tugging at the hem of his shirt, desperate for more contact.

There was no going back now, no hesitation.

The only thing that mattered was the way his body pressed against yours, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the room. You weren’t quite sure who was losing control more: him or you.

Your hands, naturally, found their way to his biceps, grasping tightly as if to anchor yourself.

Heeseung's kisses became more intense, his tongue dancing with yours, and you could feel his hands, warm and strong, as they slowly made their way under your shirt.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the warmth of his hands on your skin. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, a delightful sensation.

As Heeseung's hands continued their journey, his moan escaped his lips, a low sound which sent a jolt of electricity through your body, and you couldn't help but grip his biceps tighter, your nails slightly digging into his skin.

Heeseung's moan turned into a growl as he felt your response. With a sudden movement, he ripped off his shirt, a few of the buttons flying in all directions.

The sight of Heeseung's bare chest took your breath away. His muscles, defined and strong, glistened with a slight sheen of sweat.

As Heeseung's shirt fell to the ground, he pulled you closer, his lips never leaving yours. His hands, now free, roamed over your back, tracing the curve of your spine, and then down to your waist, where he gently squeezed.

Heeseung's lips left yours for a moment, only to trail kisses down your neck, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin there. You let out a soft whine, your body arching into his touch, inviting him to continue.

Heeseung's hands, slowly and deliberately pulled up your shirt, gently sliding the garment off your shoulders, his eyes never leaving yours.

With a subtle smile, Heeseung slung your shirt over his shoulder, his hands, now free to explore, slipped up your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You leaned back against the mirror, your legs parted slightly as Heeseung's hands continued their journey, their grip tightening as they reached the top of your thighs.

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked down at Heeseung, his chest, still heaving from the intensity of the kiss, rose and fell with each breath. You could feel his fingers trace the curves, his thumbs gently massaging.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I could look at you forever."

"I could say the same about you," you replied, your voice soft. "Every inch of you is perfection."

Heeseung's lips twitched into a soft smile. "Don't say that unless you mean it," he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost unsure.

You tilted your head slightly, your hands looped loosely around his neck. "I do mean it," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the way your heart was racing. "Every word."

For a moment, Heeseung didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at you as if trying to memorize every detail of your face. His grip on your waist tightened slightly.

"You have no idea what you’re doing to me," he said finally, his voice low, almost a whisper, like the words weren’t meant for anyone else but you.

Your lips parted, unsure of how to respond. But before you could say anything, he leaned in again, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that was softer this time, slower, as if he was savoring every second.

His hands slid up to cradle your face, his touch gentle, and you couldn’t help but melt into him. The way he kissed you made your head spin, every thought slipping away until all you could feel was him.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, both of you breathing heavily. "I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you," he admitted.

You breathed out shakily, leaning forward to kiss him again, unable to resist. Heeseung groaned softly against your mouth, his hands tightening around your waist as if he never wanted to let go.

But the sudden, rapid knocking on the bathroom door shattered the moment like glass. "Come on, man! Some of us need to pee!" someone shouted, their voice muffled but impatient.

You both froze, and then, as if in sync, you both pulled back with a wet sound, the abrupt loss of contact leaving you cold. You quickly slid off the sink, your legs shaky as you adjusted your balance. Heeseung stepped back to give you space, his lips slightly swollen, his hair tousled from your hands.

You grabbed your shirt from where it had been discarded and slipped it back on with trembling fingers, avoiding his gaze as your heart pounded in your chest. Heeseung, meanwhile, reached for his own shirt, pulling it on hastily as the knocking grew louder.

"You guys gonna stay in there all night?" a different voice called, followed by a round of laughter from the hallway.

Your face burned as you yanked open the door, not sparing a glance at the group of people gathered outside, their expressions ranging from amused to curious. Shouldering past them, you strode down the hallway and out into the main area of the party, your breath still uneven, your mind racing.

You didn’t stop, didn’t even turn around to see if Heeseung was following. The music felt too loud, the crowd too suffocating, and you needed air. Pushing past the groups of people dancing and talking, you made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water and twisting it open with shaking hands.

Taking a long sip, you leaned against the counter, trying to calm the chaotic mess of emotions swirling inside you. What had just happened? One minute, you were at a party, trying to have a good time, and the next…

"Hey," a familiar voice said softly, and you stiffened.

Turning slowly, you saw Heeseung standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his expression unreadable. His shirt was wrinkled, his lips still slightly parted as if he’d run after you but didn’t know what to say now that he’d found you.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tentative, his dark eyes scanning your face as if trying to gauge how you were feeling.

You let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through your hair. "I… I don’t know," you admitted, your voice quieter than you expected. "I just needed a second to breathe."

Heeseung nodded, stepping further into the room but keeping a careful distance, as if he didn’t want to overwhelm you. "I’m sorry if that was… too much," he said, his voice soft, almost apologetic. "I didn’t mean to—"

"Don’t apologize," you interrupted, surprising both of you with the firmness in your tone. "It wasn’t just you, Heeseung."

Your words seemed to relax him slightly, his shoulders easing as he took another cautious step closer. "Still," he said, his lips quirking into a faint smile, "next time, maybe we pick a place with fewer interruptions."

His playful tone made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. "Next time?" you asked, arching an eyebrow.

Heeseung grinned, his confidence creeping back as he leaned closer. "Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that."

You froze for a moment, your breath catching in your throat as Heeseung stood right in front of you, so close you could feel the warmth radiating off him. His grin softened into something more intense as he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly under your jaw, tilting your head up so your eyes met his.

“Why so quiet now?” he teased softly, his voice dipping lower, his lips just a whisper away from yours. “You’re usually so good with comebacks.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Heeseung’s gaze flickered to your lips, and before you could think or speak, he leaned in, so close your noses brushed. “You drive me so crazy,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the thump of the music in the other room.

And before you could react, his lips were on yours again, stealing the breath right out of your lungs.

It was different this time—not hurried or rushed like before, but deliberate, as if he wanted to make you feel every second of it. His hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, holding you gently but firmly as he kissed you, and your body responded almost instinctively.

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back, your head spinning. Heeseung let out a low hum of satisfaction, the sound vibrating against your lips as he deepened the kiss, his other hand settling on your waist.

You barely registered the cool surface of the kitchen counter pressing against your lower back as he guided you gently but firmly against it, his body close enough to make you feel like you were burning up from the inside out.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to catch his breath, his lips hovered near yours, his forehead pressing lightly against yours. “See?” he whispered, his voice rough and uneven. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel this.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at him, you didn’t trust yourself to speak, so instead, you reached up and pulled him back down into another kiss, your answer clear in the way your lips moved against his.

Heeseung chuckled softly against your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening like he didn’t want to let you go.

But somewhere in the back of your mind, a small voice reminded you where you were, what you were doing, and how very public this all was. Reluctantly, you broke the kiss, your breathing ragged as you pushed lightly against his chest.

“Heeseung,” you started, your voice shaky, “we’re in the middle of the kitchen. Anyone could walk in.”

Heeseung smirked, clearly unbothered, as he leaned down to press a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Let them,” he said, his voice low and full of mischief. “Maybe they’ll finally understand that you’re mine.”

Before you could even form a response, Heeseung’s lips crashed into yours again, more desperate this time, as though he couldn’t stand the idea of even a few seconds without kissing you. His hands cupped your face, holding you firmly in place.

Your protests—if there had been any—dissolved almost instantly, and all you could do was cling to him, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt as his body pressed closer to yours.

You felt his hands slide down from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him as if he needed to feel you, to confirm that you were there, that this wasn’t just some dream.

“Heeseung—” you tried to say, breaking the kiss briefly to catch your breath, but he didn’t let you get far.

“Don’t,” he murmured, his voice rough and low, as if he was barely holding himself together. “Just… don’t. Please.”

Before you could think, his lips were on yours again, and this time it was slower but no less intense. His hands tightened on your waist, grounding you, and you found yourself sinking further into him.

You didn’t even notice the kitchen had gone quiet until the sound of someone clearing their throat broke through the haze.

Your eyes flew open, and Heeseung reluctantly pulled back, his breathing heavy as he turned toward the source of the interruption. Standing in the doorway was Jay, a drink in his hand and an amused smirk plastered across his face.

“Should I come back later?” Jay asked, raising an eyebrow.

Your face burned with embarrassment as you quickly pushed Heeseung away, smoothing your clothes and trying to look like you hadn’t just been thoroughly kissed. Heeseung, on the other hand, looked completely unbothered.

“Not at all,” Heeseung replied smoothly, leaning casually against the counter as if nothing had happened. But the slight curve of his lips told you he was very aware of what just happened—and that he wasn’t ashamed in the slightest.

Jay chuckled, shaking his head as he walked into the kitchen. “Well, don’t let me stop you two. Just don’t break anything, yeah? I’d rather not explain that to my parents.”

You shot Jay a glare, but he just grinned and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before leaving you alone with Heeseung again.

As soon as Jay was gone, you turned to Heeseung, narrowing your eyes at him. “You really have no shame, do you?”

Heeseung just shrugged, his smirk widening. “Not when it comes to you.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Come on,” he said, reaching for your hand. “Let’s get out of here. I’m not done with you yet.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you let him take your hand, curiosity and excitement bubbling in your chest as he led you out of the kitchen.

Heeseung led you up the stairs, his hand firmly wrapped around yours as he maneuvered through the crowded hallway. The music downstairs grew fainter with every step, fading away until it was just the two of you at the end of a dimly lit corridor.

He stopped in front of a door, glancing back at you with a small smile before turning the handle and pulling you inside. The room was quiet, smelling faintly of cologne and freshly washed sheets, and you barely had a moment to take it all in before Heeseung closed the door and locked it with a soft click.

When he turned back to you, his eyes were darker, filled with an intensity that made your stomach flip. He didn’t say anything as he took a step closer, and then another, until there was barely any space left between you.

“Heeseung—” you started, your voice a mix of hesitation and anticipation, but he silenced you with a kiss.

His lips were on yours in an instant, firm and unrelenting, as if he’d been holding himself back for too long and couldn’t wait any longer. His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You couldn’t help but respond, your hands finding their way to his shoulders as you kissed him back just as fervently. It was like he had unlocked something inside you, something that craved the way he made you feel—like you were the only thing that mattered to him.

Heeseung broke the kiss just long enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, “I’ve wanted this… wanted you… for so long.”

His words made your heart race, and before you could even process them, his lips trailing down to your jaw and to the curve of your neck, his movements slow, like he was savoring every inch of your skin. The soft warmth of his mouth sent shivers down your spine, but it wasn’t until you felt him suck lightly at a tender spot just beneath your ear that you gasped, your fingers instinctively tangling in his hair.

Heeseung hummed in satisfaction at your reaction, the sound vibrating against your neck. His hands gripped your waist firmly, keeping you steady as his lips latched onto your skin, sucking just enough to leave a mark. You couldn’t stop the quiet moan that escaped your lips.

Your grip on his hair tightened, pulling slightly, and he groaned against your neck, the sound low and raspy. “Do that again,” he muttered, his voice husky.

You tugged again, this time more intentionally, and he responded by nipping gently at your skin before soothing the spot with his tongue. His lips trailed lower, finding another spot on your neck to mark.

“Heeseung,” you breathed out, your voice trembling as he continued his assault on your neck, leaving a trail of small, dark marks in his wake. You could feel the way his breathing grew heavier.

“Say my name again,” he murmured against your skin, his voice full of need.

You tugged on his hair once more, tilting your head back to give him better access, and whispered his name again, this time softer, more breathless.

He pulled back for a moment, his lips glistening, his eyes heavy-lidded as they met yours. His gaze dropped to the marks on your neck, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Perfect,” he muttered, brushing his thumb over one of the fresh hickeys. “Now everyone’s going to know you’re mine.”

--

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, rousing you from your sleep. You blinked groggily, taking in the unfamiliar room for a moment before the events of the previous night came rushing back to you.

Your body felt heavy, weighed down by something—or rather, someone. Turning your head slightly, you froze as you saw Heeseung sleeping behind you, his face peaceful, lips slightly parted, and his arm draped securely around your waist like he was afraid to let go even in his sleep.

Your eyes widened, and your heart started racing. Oh no. This can’t be happening.

You carefully reached down, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, and began to lift his arm off you. It was slow, nerve-wracking work, but as soon as you managed to free yourself, Heeseung let out a soft whine, shifting closer to where you’d been lying.

Panic flooded your veins as he reached out in his sleep, clearly searching for you. Without thinking, you grabbed one of the pillows on the bed and gently tucked it in your place. He relaxed immediately, his arms wrapping around the pillow as he snuggled closer to it, his breathing evening out again.

You released a quiet sigh of relief, grabbing your scattered belongings from the floor. You didn’t even bother putting the heels on, instead clutching them tightly in your hand as you made your way to the door, tiptoeing as quietly as possible.

The hallway was eerily silent compared to the chaos of last night. When you reached the staircase and descended into the main living area, the faint sound of movement caught your attention.

Jay stood near the kitchen island, tossing empty bottles into a garbage bag. He looked up when he heard you approach, a knowing grin spreading across his face. “Morning,” he greeted, his tone light and teasing. “Sneaking out?”

You hesitated, your cheeks burning as you adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “I’m just… heading out,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

Jay leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Didn’t think you’d still be here, honestly. Heeseung seemed pretty determined last night, though.”

Your cheeks burned even hotter, and you quickly waved him off. “It’s not what it looks like,” you said, although even you didn’t sound convincing.

Jay raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Right. Whatever you say.” He didn’t push any further, thankfully, instead returning to his cleaning.

You hurried toward the door, slipping out before anyone else could see you. As soon as you were outside, the crisp morning air hit your face, and you let out a shaky breath.

What the hell just happened?

--

You ignored the buzzing of your phone as Heeseung’s name lit up the screen again and again. Calls, texts, and even voice messages you refused to listen to—all of them went unanswered. You couldn’t deal with him right now, not after everything that had happened.

Luckily, it was Sunday, and you had no responsibilities to worry about. After taking a long, scalding shower to clear your head, you threw on your comfiest pajamas and climbed back into bed.

You tried to distract yourself with movies, mindlessly scrolling through streaming apps until you settled on something you’d seen a dozen times before. A large bag of chips sat open next to you, along with a collection of candy wrappers and an empty soda can. It was the perfect lazy day setup, except for one problem—you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

No matter how hard you tried to focus on the movie, your mind kept drifting back to Heeseung.

You groaned, shoving your face into a pillow in frustration. Why couldn’t you stop thinking about him? Heeseung was trouble, plain and simple. You’d known that from the start, and yet you let yourself get swept up in him anyway.

Your phone buzzed again on the nightstand, and for a moment, you considered throwing it across the room. But your curiosity got the better of you, and you reached for it, unlocking the screen to see yet another text from Heeseung.

Heeseung: I know you’re ignoring me, but can we talk? Please?

You sighed, locking your phone again and tossing it aside. You didn’t know what he wanted to say, but you weren’t ready to hear it.

Instead, you burrowed deeper into your blankets, determined to get through the rest of the day without letting him take over your thoughts again. But no matter how many movies you watched, or how much junk food you ate, the memory of him lingered like a stubborn shadow, refusing to be ignored.

So when Monday rolled around, you made it your mission to avoid Heeseung at all costs. You checked the cafe schedule first thing in the morning and made sure your shifts didn’t overlap with his, swapping one with a coworker to make sure you wouldn’t have to see him.

On campus, you were extra careful, keeping your head low and staying alert as you navigated between classes. You stuck to the edges of crowded hallways, dodging places you knew he might linger. Every time you rounded a corner, your stomach tensed, half-expecting to see him standing there, waiting for you.

It wasn’t easy. You’d catch glimpses of him now and then, whether it was through a classroom window or across the quad, but you always made sure to duck out of sight before he noticed you. You couldn’t risk talking to him—not yet.

By the time your shift at the cafe rolled around on Wednsday, you were already exhausted from the mental effort of dodging him. Walking through the door, you felt a wave of relief wash over you as you realized it was just you and a coworker, Jisoo, working the evening shift.

But the relief didn’t last long. Midway through your shift, while you were wiping down the counters, the bell above the door jingled, signaling a customer. Without looking up, you called out your usual greeting.

“Welcome! How can I can help—”

The words died in your throat when you glanced up and saw Heeseung standing there, his eyes immediately locking onto yours.

He was dressed casually, a backpack slung over one shoulder, and he looked like he hadn’t slept well. His hair was slightly messy, like he’d run his hand through it a dozen times.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but firm as he took a step closer to the counter.

You froze, your rag still in your hand, unsure of what to do. Jisoo was busy stocking pastries in the display case and didn’t seem to notice the sudden tension in the air.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but your voice came out a little shaky.

“I came to talk to you,” Heeseung replied, his tone calm but insistent. “You’ve been ignoring me, and I don’t like it.”

Your grip tightened on the rag, your mind racing for an excuse, a way out of this conversation. “I’ve been busy,” you said quickly, avoiding his gaze. “School, work... you know how it is.”

Heeseung didn’t budge. “Yeah, I get it,” he said, leaning on the counter slightly. “But I also know when someone’s avoiding me.”

You glanced nervously at Jisoo, who was still oblivious, then back at Heeseung. “This isn’t the time or place for this,” you hissed under your breath.

“Then when is?” he shot back, his voice low but sharp. “Because I don’t think you’ll give me the chance if I don’t force it.”

The determination in his eyes made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. But before you could respond, Jisoo turned around, finally noticing Heeseung.

“Hey, Heeseung!” she greeted cheerfully. “You’re not working today, are you?”

“No, just stopping by,” he said smoothly, his gaze never leaving yours.

Jisoo shrugged and went back to her task, leaving you alone with him once again.

“Please,” Heeseung said softly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Just give me five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

You huffed, feeling cornered with no way out, and agreed to his request, deciding that five minutes would be better than dealing with him here in front of Jisoo. The tension in the air thickened as you both moved to the back of the cafe. Heeseung’s presence loomed behind you, his silence heavy as he followed you through the narrow hallway.

Once the door to the backroom shut, you leaned against the counter, trying to gather your thoughts, but Heeseung didn’t give you a chance to breathe.

“Why did you leave so early that night?” His voice was steady, but you could hear the hint of frustration in it. “Why are you ignoring me now?”

You swallowed hard, pushing aside the thoughts of the night before. It was a mistake, you told yourself. A moment of weakness. You needed to stay firm.

“It was a mistake,” you finally said, your voice coming out a little softer than you meant. “One-time thing. It won’t happen again, Heeseung.”

Heeseung didn’t say anything at first, his expression unreadable. Then he took a step closer, and then another, until you were pressed up against the wall. You tried to breathe steadily, but your heart was racing now.

“Is that how you really feel?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous, eyes locked onto yours. “Do you really think it was a mistake?”

Before you could respond, he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours. You flinched for just a moment, but the warmth of his touch pulled you in, and you could feel his soft exhale against your mouth.

You tried to push him back, to remind yourself of the resolve you’d spent all day building, but his hands were on you, pulling you closer, and despite everything, you felt the tension in your body break. Slowly, hesitantly, you kissed him back.

The kiss deepened, and you felt yourself losing control of your thoughts, of everything you’d promised yourself just minutes ago. It was impossible to think straight when he was this close, his hands gentle but insistent, his lips insatiable.

Heeseung broke away for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as you both panted for breath. “You don’t have to keep pretending,” he whispered, his voice rough. “I can see it in your eyes. You want this as much as I do.”

You tried to argue back, to remind yourself that this was wrong, that it couldn’t happen again, but Heeseung wasn’t giving you a chance. His lips pressed against yours in a soft kiss, silencing any protest you might have had. When he pulled away, he pecked your lips again but then his attention dropped lower.

You couldn’t help but gasp when his lips brushed against your neck, gently revealing the marks from the night before. His fingers trailed up your skin as he pressed his lips against the sensitive spot on your collarbone. You felt a rush of heat flood through you, making it harder to focus on anything other than the way he was making you feel.

His lips moved with purpose, leaving a trail of fresh hickeys on your skin, each one more darker than the last. You gripped his shirt, the fabric twisting beneath your fingers as you tried to hold onto some semblance of control, but it was slipping away.

"How could this be a mistake when it feels this good?" Heeseung murmured between each kiss, his voice husky. "You don’t have to lie to yourself. I know you want this just as much as I do."

With every word, every kiss, your resolve weakened, until you couldn’t remember why you wanted to fight this in the first place. The way he touched you, the way he made you feel alive. You wanted him, and there was no denying it anymore.

“This isn’t just a one-time thing, not for me,” he murmured as he kissed his way back up to your lips. "I’m what you need," he said quietly, his eyes locked onto yours with an almost pleading look. "I’ll give you what you need—what you’ve been craving, even if you don’t realize it yet."

You opened your mouth to argue back, to remind him that you weren’t looking for this, but your words caught in your throat as he suddenly knelt down in front of you.

You gasped, the shift in position catching you off guard. His hands moved quickly to grip your waist, his touch firm yet gentle, as he looked up at you, his eyes wide and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before.

"I’m not asking for anything from you," he whispered, his voice laced with a quiet desperation. "I just want to be what you need. Please, don’t push me away. Let me give you what I know you want."

He leaned in closer, just enough to close the distance between you, but he didn’t move further. Instead, he let his head rest gently against your legs, his hands still holding you steady, waiting for your response.

His voice softened. "I’ll be patient. But please… don’t push me away again."

He was begging you, and the intensity of his words seemed to shake the very ground beneath you.

"I can be good for you," he said softly, his voice trembling slightly. "No one else will make you feel like I can. No one else understands you the way I do. I promise, I’ll treat you right, I’ll give you everything you need. Just let me."

You could feel his hands tighten ever so slightly on your waist, his desperation evident. "I’ll make you happy. I know I can."

His words were persuasive, yet you remained uncertain. Was this what you really needed? What you really wanted?

Heeseung must have seen the conflict in your eyes because he softened even more, lowering his voice as if speaking to your heart. "I’m not trying to force you into anything. I just want you to know that I care about you… more than anyone else could. Please, just trust me."

For a moment, all you could do was stand there, trying to process his words. His eyes searched yours, full of hope, waiting for you to say something, anything.

Eventually you let out a soft sigh, feeling the weight of the decision settling on your shoulders. After a moment of silence, you met Heeseung's gaze. "Alright," you murmured, your voice almost a whisper. "I’ll give you a chance."

Heeseung's eyes lit up instantly, the tension in his body melting away as a smile broke out across his face. Without warning, he stood up, his hands reaching to cup your face gently as he leaned in. His lips pressed against your forehead first, then, he kissed your cheeks, your nose, and finally, your lips. Each kiss was quick but filled with so much happiness and relief, as if he’d been waiting for this moment for a long time.

"I’m what you need," he mumbled against your skin.

What you need.

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[rosieswriting]

Wrapped up in you

Remus Lupin x reader

Summary: you look good and Remus is a love sick puppy

Note: pre established relationship. A bit of Jily English is not my first languaje!

Warnings: not +18 but suggestive content

Words: 1,9K

You looked good—really good. After what felt like ages of trying on clothes, nothing had felt quite right for the party at the Ravenclaw common room. But this… Merlin, you felt like the hottest person at Hogwarts

“Are you trying to kill poor Remus? Because with that outfit, you might actually do it” Lily teased, grinning as she looked you up and down. You rolled your eyes, though a satisfied smile played on your lips as you took one last look in the mirror.

Remus and you had started dating not so long ago, one month, two weeks and three days to be exactly. After years of crushing on your best friend, you had finally gotten together, thanks mostly to James and Lily who were desperate to have double dates with someone.

“You look good too, Lils” you replied smiling to the redhead “Pretty sure James is going to be drooling across the common room” you teased slightly.

She chuckled, giving you a playful nudge before opening the door. You followed her down the stairs to meet up with the Marauders in the common room, where the four of you had planned to head to the party together. As you descended, you could already hear their laughter echoing up the stairs. When you stepped into the common room, all four boys turned to look at you both.

“Lily Evans,” James announced, rising dramatically, “I vow to cherish you until the end of time because, somehow, you get even more beautiful every day.” He walked over to Lily, giving her a soft kiss.

Sirius came over with a teasing grin, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Didn’t know you could clean up this well.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, playfully nudging him off.

“I think you might’ve broken Moony” Peter said, smirking as he and Remus rose from the couch.

With a chuckle, you slipped out from Sirius’s arm and walked over to Remus, cheeks warming under his intense gaze. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again, like he couldn’t quite form words. You walked over, feeling the blush rise to your cheeks as he took in every detail—the way your hair framed your face, your lips, the curve of your smile. When you stopped in front of him, he wrapped his hands around your hips, giving a gentle squeeze as he took you in one more time.

“You’re…” he trailed off, his voice barely above a whisper as he finally managed to get out, “Merlin, you’re beautiful.”

Your eyes locked, and a shiver ran down your spine. “Thank you,” you murmured, a soft smile on your lips. The world faded for a moment, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in quiet admiration.

But Sirius, ever the charmer, had other plans. “Alright, lovebirds, are we going to crash this party, or are we just standing here staring all night?” he called, leaning against Peter with a grin.

You and Remus exchanged a chuckle, glancing at Lily and James, who were equally lost in each other. Everyone nodded, and with a shared laugh, you all began making your way out of the Gryffindor common room and toward Ravenclaw’s.

Peter and Sirius led the way, joking about how much they’d drink, while Lily and James giggled beside them, whispering in each other’s ears. You and Remus lingered behind, his hand in yours, his thumb lightly brushing over your knuckles. Every so often, you’d catch him looking over at you, his gaze warm and gentle.

“You’re quiet,” you murmured, giving his hand a light squeeze.

A flurry of thoughts raced through your mind. He’d called you beautiful, but… was he just being polite? Had he changed his mind about your outfit? Or maybe he had now realized that you actually looked bad? Had you tried to much? Was the outfit to much? Did he think you were too much? Did he-

Just as your thoughts started spiraling, he stopped, giving you a look so tender it silenced every worry. “You left me speechless, love,” he said softly, smiling in that way that made your heart stutter. “I still can’t believe we’re actually together.”

Your heart soared, and a wide smile spread across your face. This was what made you fall for him—those words, so simple yet so grounding.

“Well, you’d better believe it,” you said, a playful warmth in your tone. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“As if I’d ever let you,” he teased, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. As you stepped into the Ravenclaw common room, you realized you hadn’t even noticed the journey there, entirely wrapped up in each other.

The Ravenclaw common room was packed, wall to wall with seventh-years letting loose. Tables had been pushed to the corners, each stacked with bottles of Firewhisky, Butterbeer, and a random assortment of Muggle liquors someone must have smuggled in. The music pounded through the room, drawing most people to the makeshift dance floor in the center, while the more daring couples could be spotted snogging in shadowed corners. A few others leaned by the large windows, passing around enchanted cigarettes, smoke curling lazily into the air.

Sirius caught your eye from across the room, his brows raised in that mischievous way of his, and you knew exactly what he was going to say—and that you were going to say yes.

“Ready for some shots, my dearest friend?” he asked, grin wide and challenging.

“As always.” You gave him a mock salute and turned to Remus, who was watching the exchange with a knowing smile.

You wrapped your arms around Remus’ shoulders, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. There was a hint of something electric beneath it, that small thrill you always felt whenever you kissed him, no matter how many times you had. But you didn’t let it go too deep, not wanting to get lost in him when Sirius was already waiting.

“Careful, alright?” Remus murmured as you pulled back, his hand resting gently on your waist, his gaze warm but cautious.

“Yes,” you whispered with a reassuring smile, planting one last kiss on his cheek before turning back to Sirius. Remus chuckled softly, watching you go with a fond look.

The two of you weaved through the crowd, pausing here and there to greet friends and familiar faces, laughter and chatter filling the room around you. Ever since the start of the year, you and Sirius had developed a little ritual of sharing shots at every party. It had somehow strengthened your friendship, a unique bonding ritual that always left you laughing by the end of the night.

As you reached the table, Sirius uncorked a bottle of tequila with a flourish. “No jokes aside, you really do look stunning tonight,” he said, pouring two shots and giving you a genuine smile beneath all his teasing.

“Thanks, Siri,” you said, smiling back. “And I hate to boost your ego, but you’re looking pretty good yourself.”

“Oh, I know,” he smirked, flipping his hair back in a mock display of vanity. He handed you a shot glass, clinking it against yours before you both downed it in one swift gulp.

The tequila burned going down, and you both winced, making exaggerated faces of disgust. “Still awful, every time,” you laughed, shaking your head.

“Awful but worth it,” he shot back, pouring another round without waiting for you to protest. “To making terrible decisions we’ll laugh about tomorrow!”

“Cheers to that,” you replied, grinning as you took the second shot with him, already feeling the warmth of the alcohol spreading through you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Remus watching you with a soft smile, leaning casually against the wall with James and Lily. Every now and then, he’d shoot a glance your way, and you could feel the quiet affection in his gaze, even from across the room. Sirius followed your gaze and nudged your arm.

“You two are love-sick puppies” he teased, filling two cups with Butterbeer and passing one over to you with a smirk.

“We are not,” you said, shooting him a playful glare but gratefully accepting the drink. “We’re just… happy.”

Sirius chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Sure, happy. At least now the rest of us don’t have to suffer watching you two make eyes at each other from across the room, pretending it’s not obvious.”

You laughed, taking a sip. Sirius was right—after all the glances, lingering touches, and awkward silences, everyone else had caught on long before you had. You had probably been more transparent than you’d thought.

“Alright, alright, so maybe we were both a little clueless,” you admitted with a laugh. “But we’re here now, aren’t we?”

Sirius shrugged with a grin. “I suppose I’ll allow it. But really, you’ve got Remus so wrapped up, it’s a miracle he can think straight.”

You grinned and roll your eyes playfully. At some point both of you decided that one shot wasn’t enough. You left the cup on the table and start taking more shots.

 “Finally!” James called, reaching out to pull you both into the mix with the rest of the students. How many shots had you have? You were not sure, but the party was going great.

Sirius threw you a wink and headed to join Peter, who was challenging some Ravenclaws to a drinking game, while you spotted Remus near the edge of the dance floor, looking a little shy but grinning at you. You stepped up to him with a smile, holding out your hand.

“Care to dance?” you asked, warmth in your voice.

Remus took your hand, pulling you close as the music picked up, and you swayed together, everything around you blurring into background noise. With his arms wrapped around you, it felt like there was no one else there. He looked down, brushing a few strands of hair from your face, his gaze soft.

“Stop looking at me like that” you slurred out, already drunk.

“I can´t when you look this hot, love” he muttered pulling you even closer to him and smirking. He had been smoking, you could smell the cigarettes when he talked.

You didn’t know what came over you. Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your veins, or the confidence that had settled in after a few shots. Or maybe, it was just the way Remus looked at you—like you were the only person in the room, and Merlin, he was the most beautiful boy you’d ever seen. Whatever it was, you closed the small gap between you, pulling him into a kiss. This time, neither of you held back.

His hands tightened on your waist, fingers digging in like he was anchoring himself to you. You ran your hands through his hair, tugging him closer as the kiss deepened, turning messy and desperate.But you liked it. You liked him, you loved him.

After a breathless moment, you both pulled back, eyes glazed and cheeks flushed. Remus looked down at you, his lips parted as he tried to catch his breath, a dazed grin spreading across his face.

“Your dorm or mine?” you asked, breathlessly, voice filled with barely-contained excitement. There was no way you were staying at this party now.

“Mine,” he said without hesitation, his voice thick with the same intensity, his hand already tugging you towards the door. Neither of you spared a glance at your friends, who were far too drunk to notice your swift exit..

Don’t get him wrong—Remus absolutely adored your outfit. But he’d adore it even more once it was on the floor of his dorm.

[surielstea]

Dancing With Fate

Original request.

Pairing: Nyx Archeron x Tamlin’s Daughter!Reader

Summary: While struggling with her relationship with her father, Reader goes to her first ball and stumbles upon a male she has never met, but feels a distinct connection to.

Warnings: slight angst with a parent, mostly fluff between Reader and Nyx

A.Note: I apologize for how long this took me to get out, I really struggled with how to format her back story but I ended up fairly happy with it, let me know if y’all want more of these two I’d be happy to write a few one shots of their dynamic as well as all the family drama since I’m such a sucker for the forbidden love trope ;)

6.4k word count.

"Can you do that again for me, my sweet?" my mother whispered, her voice trembling as she crouched down to my height. I watched her eyes fill with a glassy shine that I didn't understand. She reached out, her hands shaking as they wrapped around my small wrists. I blinked up at her, wide-eyed and oblivious, only feeling the warmth of her touch and the tremor of her fingers.

I balled my hands into tiny fists, scrunching my face with all the concentration I could muster. I wanted so badly to make her proud, to show her what I could do. I willed the claws beneath my skin to surface, squeezing my fists tighter until, with a soft tearing, they slid out, small and sharp, shining like new silver. Her breath caught, and her eyes went even wider as she stared at the claws that had split through my knuckles. A single tear slipped down her cheek, and I tilted my head, wondering why she was sad. I reached out, my claws joining the action as I moved, but she stumbled back, evading the sharp silver, her hand pressed over her mouth.

"What's wrong, Momma?" I asked, my voice tiny. I tried to reach for her cheek, to wipe the tear away like she'd done for me so many times, but she shook her head, forcing a small, shaky smile.

"Nothing, it's alright, my sweet," she whispered, her voice soft and a little broken. "I just... didn't think you'd be able to do this so soon." Her fingers lingered on my cheek, warm and tender. She looked at me like she was memorizing my face, like every part of me mattered.

I gave her a proud smile, lifting my hands. "Isn't it cool?" I grinned widely, my innocence unbroken. I had no idea what my claws really meant, or the sorrow that darkened her gaze as she watched me slash the air with them, filling the quiet night with soft, sharp swishes. She just sat there, quiet and sad, holding her own hands close to her chest as if they couldn't bear to let me go.

It was a late night, much too late for me to be awake. I clung tightly to my mother's hand as she led me through a garden filled with roses that gleamed under the moonlight. The flowers were tall and beautiful, and I wanted to reach out to touch them, but my mother's grip kept me close. She moved so fast, her cloak wrapped tightly around her, like she was hiding from something.

"Where are we going, Mom?" I asked in a small voice, but she didn't answer, her steps quickening as she pulled me along. The roses seemed to shiver in the breeze, their petals brushing against us as we passed, and the moon above us was high and cold, casting everything in a silver glow.

Ahead of us was a huge mansion, bigger than any house I'd ever seen. It loomed in the night, dark and quiet, like it was waiting for us. My mother slowed as we neared the porch, her breathing heavy as she crouched down in front of me, her face serious in a way that made my heart beat faster.

She pressed a folded piece of paper into my hands, her fingers cold and firm around mine. "We're going to play a game, okay?" she said, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Her fingers brushed my cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

I nodded eagerly, happy that she wanted to play. Games with Momma were always fun. She pointed to the paper, her hand gentle but urgent. "Whoever opens that door," she said, her voice steady but quiet, "you give them this paper, okay?" Her gaze held mine, as if she was trying to pour a message into me with her eyes. "And, my sweet," she paused, swallowing hard, "I'm going to hide now. And no matter what they ask you, you can't tell them I was with you. It's a big secret."

I blinked up at her, not fully understanding, but I nodded anyway, like a good girl. She reached out, her fingers lingering on my cheek again, her eyes shimmering with something I couldn't name. "I'll meet you at the window, okay?" Her voice cracked, and a tear slipped down her cheek. "It'll be fun, I promise."

I reached up to brush the tear away, but she was already rising. Before I could say anything else, she knocked on the tall doors, and with a last, lingering look, she turned and melted into the shadows. Just like that, she was gone.

Suddenly, the night felt enormous and empty, the shadows stretching out around me, dark and cold. The noises from the forest grew louder, like the trees and animals and everything hidden within the dark were whispering all around me. My heart pounded, and I almost wanted to cry out, to beg for her to come back and take me home. But before I could make a sound, the massive doors creaked open, casting a sliver of light onto the porch.

A man stood in the doorway, tall and fierce, with wild red hair and eyes that seemed to cut through the darkness. One of his eyes gleamed gold, like a piece of metal, and he looked down at me with a frown, his expression stern and sleepy. "Excuse me, Mister," I squeaked, trying to remember my mother's instructions.

His gaze softened just a bit as he took in my tiny figure. "And who might you be?" he asked, his voice rough but not unkind.

"I'm supposed to give this to you." I held up the paper, my hands trembling as I waited for him to take it. He knelt down, eyeing me carefully as he unfolded the note, his expression unreadable. I gave him a polite smile, remembering my mother's lessons, but his gaze flicked from the note back to me, his eyes narrowing.

"Where's your mother?" he asked, his voice soft but sharp.

I shrugged, fidgeting under his gaze. "I don't know," I whispered, my heart thudding in my chest.

"But she brought you here, didn't she?" he pressed, his gaze steady. I swallowed, unsure of how my mother would want me to answer. After a long, quiet moment, he sighed, opening the door wider. "Come inside. You shouldn't be out here alone."

I followed him into the mansion, the silence thick and heavy as he led me up a grand staircase. My shoes clicked against the cold, polished floor as we climbed up and up, stopping finally at a pair of wooden doors wrapped in ivy. I was too small to open them, so I just waited, feeling very small in the middle of the enormous hallway.

"Wait here a moment," he said, giving me a nod before stepping through the door. I looked around, mesmerized by the golden chandelier hanging above me, its glow casting strange, twisting shadows that moved as the lights flickered.

"I already told you I'm not in the mood to talk, Lucien." A deep, heavy voice sounded from beyond the door, and I jumped, hugging my cloak tighter around me.

"It's not that," Lucien replied, his tone shifting in a way that sounded unsure, even a little nervous. "You have a visitor."

The other voice was silent for a moment, and my stomach knotted up as I realized they were talking about me. "Tell them to leave," the man said finally, his tone cold and final.

Lucien sighed, and I heard the soft rustling of paper. The silence felt like it stretched forever, but then footsteps approached. The door swung open, and I looked up to see a tall man with golden hair, his eyes dark and sharp as they fell on me. I could tell by the way he looked at me that he wasn't used to children, that maybe he didn't know what to do with me.

But he crouched down slowly, his gaze softening just a bit as he held his hands up, like he wanted me to know he wasn't going to hurt me. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.

I told him, my voice a quiet whisper, but he nodded as if he'd heard every word. "Do you know who I am?" he asked, tilting his head, and I shook my head, looking down at my hands.

"I'm the High Lord of the Spring Court," he said softly, his tone proud but his eyes sad. My eyes widened, a little smile pulling at my lips. I'd heard of a High Lord in my mother's stories, someone powerful and magical.

"But, more importantly," he continued, his gaze searching my face, "I'm your father."

I blinked up at him, the words hanging in the air like they were something heavy, something I didn't yet understand. I wanted to ask him what it all meant, but all I could do was stare up at him, my fingers curling around the edge of my cloak, wishing I was safe in my mother's arms again.

———

Ever since that night, I've been confined to this estate on every special occasion, under the watchful eyes of my father's maids, lest I sneak away the moment I'm alone. Tonight, like many others, I'm left looking out the window of my bedroom—the same spot where I'd waited endlessly as a child, hoping my mother would come back for me.

But tonight was going to be different. I'd make sure of it.

I storm out of my room, my heels clicking with determined steps as I march down the hall. I swing open the doors to my father's study without knocking. He looks up from his papers, brow creased, clearly taken aback by my abrupt entrance.

"I'm going to the Dawn Court tonight," I say, my tone leaving no room for discussion.

"Absolutely not," he replies, shaking his head and dipping his quill back in the ink, dismissing me with the kind of finality he's used to exerting over me.

"All the courts are invited," I argue, stepping forward. "I'm obligated to go."

"No," he says again, his tone colder. "It's a high-profile ball. You're not ready."

I draw in a sharp breath, struggling to keep my temper in check. "Not ready? Father, I'm nineteen. If not now, then when?" This age had been difficult for him for some reason, I don't know why but ever since my birthday he's been acting strangely, started keeping me shut out and less involved—I may as well have just been imagining it or it was a coincidence it started happening after I turned nineteen, but once I got the thought in my head it was hard to get it out.

His expression hardens, his voice annoyingly calm. "Just, not now."

A chill spreads through my hands, and I have to resist the urge to bear the claws that hide beneath my skin. "I'm so tired of having every decision made for me," I say, pressing my palms to my temples as frustration wells up. "Of being treated like a prisoner in this house."

He stands, his temper fraying. "And I'm sick of you thinking you know best," His voice rises, echoing in the silence of the study. "You don't understand half of what's at stake."

"No, maybe I don't. But neither do you, apparently," I snap back. "Or maybe it's just that you're afraid to lose the only company you have left in this house. Is that it, Father?"

His hands ball into fists, metal-like claws gleaming from his knuckles. Mine slid out as well, a metallic gleam in the dim light.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he snarls, eyes darkening.

"Maybe I do," I bite back. "I hate this house." It came out as more of a confession than a retort, but his face falters, pain flickering through his eyes before he regains his composure.

"You don't mean that."

"I do," I insist, voice shaking with anger. "I hate this house, and I wish my mother never abandoned me here." The words are barely out of my mouth before I turn on my heel and stride out, slamming the door behind me so hard the walls shudder, my claws snagging on the wood of the door and scraping the paint off, revealing the bare, slightly rotted wood beneath. It felt like a metaphor, in a strange way.

I make my way to the garden, desperate for air. The night breeze is cool as I step out onto the deck, and I close the glass doors behind me a little more gently this time. Taking a few deep breaths, I walk along the garden path, letting the silence and cold soothe my frayed nerves. Winter's grip is finally loosening, and the garden is starting to come alive with buds and leaves. My favorite time of year.

I reach for one of the rosebuds, my claws retracting ever so slowly, my skin morphing over the hideous metal that gleamed in the moonlight. I forget the feeling of the power my father gifted me and remember the feeling and comforting warmth of my mother's power flickering beneath my fingertips. The flower blooms in my palm, reaching out toward me, and I smile faintly as I coax the other buds open along the path. Flower by flower my frustrating emotions ebb, and by the time I've reached the stone bench, my anger has cooled, replaced by something heavier, more complicated.

I sit, feeling the familiar weight of regret settle over me. I don't hate this house, not really. I hate the way I'm trapped in it.

The glass door opens, and I know without looking that it's him. My father takes a seat beside me on the bench, and I shift away, making it clear I'm not ready to forgive him just yet. We sit in silence, watching the newly-bloomed flowers sway in the night breeze. Finally, he sighs.

"You can go to the Dawn Court tonight," he says quietly.

I turn to him, my eyes wide with surprise.

He hesitates, looking down at his hands. "I'm..." He struggles around the word. "Sorry that you feel like you can't make your own choices," he mutters, his voice filled with a vulnerability I haven't heard ever before. "I'm trying to do better. And, you're right. I am afraid."

My heart softens, and the walls I've built up slowly crumble. "Afraid of what?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Of losing you, in turn losing everything." He looks up, his eyes—a shade of green I've always found comfort in—filled with an emotion that makes my heart ache.

Without thinking, I wrap my arms around him, and he pulls me close, his hand gently stroking my back. "I'm sorry, too," I murmur into his shoulder.

He shakes his head. "Don't be. You're my daughter. You're allowed to be angry with me." He pulls back to look at me. "Just promise me one thing," he says. "Promise you won't run away tonight."

I give him a small smile, the request so obscene that u couldn't help it. "I'll be perfect. Thank you, Father." I reassure.

He nods, satisfied, and rises from the bench. "We leave in an hour. You'd better start getting ready."

———

My dress is a soft lavender that hugs my waist and fans out into a beautiful, flowing skirt, the slit running up my thigh edged in delicate embroidered flowers. The open back crisscrosses with delicate ties, and the neckline is just low enough to be elegant without being too revealing. One of the maids has styled my hair in a half-up, half-down look, a few braided strands framing my face. For once, I feel exactly how I want to feel—elegant, feminine, and free.

I leave my bedroom and make my way down the hall to the marble staircase, where my father waits at the base. As I descend, his eyes widen, his mouth opening slightly as he takes in my appearance.

"Well?" I do a small spin, laughing at his awestruck expression.

He swallows, a proud smile slowly spreading across his face. "You look beautiful," he murmurs, pulling me into a hug.

I hug him back, letting him hold me close, and in that moment, it feels as if all the tension of our earlier argument melts away. We're just father and daughter again.

———

The Dawn Court ballroom is bathed in golden light, warm and inviting. I've barely stepped inside when a tall, dark-skinned man in white robes approaches, a halo of gold atop his head.

"And who is this lovely lady?" he asks, his voice rich with curiosity.

"My daughter," my father answers gruffly, his protective tone unmistakable.

The man blinks in surprise before offering a sheepish smile. "Ah, well then." He turns and makes a quick exit.

"Who was that?" I ask, amused by his reaction.

"High Lord of Day," my father mutters, a hint of irritation in his voice. "He has a reputation."

I raise an eyebrow, smiling as I unlink my arm from his. "Are all High Lords so... pretty?"

"Careful," he growls in warning.

A cheeky smile appears on my lips as I unhook my arm from his. "Only observations." I shrug. "I'm going to get a drink." I take a step away and he takes it with me. "Father, I'm only going to the refreshments table, not war. I'll be fine." I promise and he solicits a sigh.

"No wine." He demands and I shake my head in disbelief.

"Yes sir." I mock salute before spinning on my heel and walking across the ballroom, I make my way to the refreshment table and pour myself a glass from the fountain of cider, admiring the way the bubbles shimmer in the golden light. My father had said no wine but mentioned nothing about spiked cider. I take a long sip and begin to explore the ballroom, watching dancers swirl in gowns of blue and pink that mirror the sunset outside.

Lost in thought, I wander past an indoor garden filled with gardenias and evergreens. I couldn't help myself but slip inside, a few guests were inside, admiring the flowers just as I wished to do, so I deemed I was allowed to. I approached an arch of budded flowers, standing beneath the green vines that soon would be sprouted in color. I reached out, gently brushing a bud with my fingertips, watching as it blooms in reply.

"Your touch has improved since the last time I saw you," a familiar voice murmurs from behind me.

I turn, eyes lighting up as they land on a tan-skinned male with striking red hair. "Lucien!" I throw my arms around him, grinning.

He chuckles, pulling me into a warm hug. "You look stunning, little Fawn," he says, holding me at arm's length to take in my dress. "How did you manage to get out of the house?"

I smirk with a casual shrug. "Whipped out the claws."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Like father, like daughter." He mused and I chuckled, looking down at the flowers reaching towards me, asking for my attention again.

"You want to dance?" His hand comes to my shoulder and I shake my head.

"You go ahead, I think I'll need a few more glasses before I step foot on the dance floor." I scoff and he shakes his head.

"Nonsense, you're a terrific dancer." He bumps my shoulder.

"I'm okay uncle, really," I reassured and he clamped his lips shut.

"Okay, find me if you need me." He presses a kiss to my temple and I nod.

He saunters away towards a group of friends I didn't recognize and I continue exploring, sipping my champagne as I wander through the crowd.

My gaze is caught by a group of strangers dressed in dark clothing. There's a woman in deep maroon, a honey brunette who smiles at me softly, and beside her, a tall man wearing a black-jeweled crown. I study them curiously, trying to place who they might be.

Distracted, I accidentally walk straight into someone's chest.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I stammer, stumbling back. I trip over my heels, but a pair of strong hands catches me, steadying me before I fall.

"You alright?" an unfamiliar voice asks, deep and soothing.

I look up—and up—and up—at a broad-shouldered man with rugged features and half of his shoulder-length hair tied back. He has a friendly, easy-going smile that immediately puts me at ease.

"Yeah, sorry," I mutter, flushing slightly.

He chuckles, the sound rich and warm. "No need to apologize. I should have been watching where I was going. You'd think five centuries would be enough time to figure that out." He snorts, red siphons gleaming on his chest and hands.

I blink in surprise. "Five centuries?"

He grins, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, no need to make me sound ancient."

I laugh, feeling unexpectedly comfortable around him. "Right. Apologies again." I clamp my lips shut, embarrassed.

"Who's the lucky person that brought you here tonight?" He asks, sensing my embarrassment and switching the topic, shifting to face towards the crowd.

"Couldn't I have come on my own?" I counter, crossing my arms.

He laughs again. "Touché. But I'll bet that doesn't mean you'll be lacking for dance partners." He gestures to the dance floor.

"Maybe," I say with a smile, "but that depends on who asks."

"Well, I would, but my mate would probably have my head if I danced with anyone else," he says, feigning a solemn look.

"Pity," I replied playfully. "But it's alright—you don't seem all that familiar with your feet anyway."

He gasps, feigning insult. "Hey! I'll have you know I'm a world-class dancer!"

"Oh, really?" I raise an eyebrow. "Shame, then. You missed your chance."

He chuckles, backing away. "Well, it was nice talking to you—mystery lady."

"Likewise," I call after him with a smile, watching as he disappears into the crowd.

The music is lively, filling the ballroom with a vibrant energy as dancers swirl and laugh under the golden chandeliers. I sip the last of my cider, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through me. For the first time in ages, I feel, free. Maybe my father had been right to keep me close all these years; maybe I wasn't ready for this world of strangers and their sharp eyes. But as I watch the colors and movement around me, I know I wouldn't trade this feeling for anything.

Lost in my thoughts, I wander past the terrace doors and step outside, onto a balcony that overlooks a sprawling garden filled with glistening fountains and delicate white flowers. I take a deep breath, savoring the crisp night air, and let my fingers trace the cool stone railing wrapped in ivy.

Then I hear it—a quiet, amused hum from just behind me. I turn, startled, and my gaze falls on a young man leaning casually against the doorway, watching me with a slight, crooked smile.

He's tall, with jet-black hair that falls in tousled waves, and eyes that are strikingly, disarmingly blue. He wears a dark, impeccably tailored suit, with a midnight-blue shirt beneath, the top buttons undone enough to reveal tan skin beneath. There's an effortless elegance to him, a quiet confidence, like he belongs in every corner of this glittering world.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he says, stepping forward with a charming half-smile. "But I had to wonder what you were doing all by yourself out here. Parties like these are hardly tolerable alone."

I raise an eyebrow, feeling my cheeks warm under his gaze. "And yet here you are, all by yourself."

He chuckles, eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. "Fair, though technically, I'm not alone anymore, am I?"

I laugh, feeling my earlier irritation with my father melt away as I look at him. "I suppose not. Though I doubt you're here to keep me company."

He raises a hand in mock innocence. "You wound me. I've been nothing but kind since we met."

"Have we met?" I ask, tilting my head. "I think I would've remembered," I say with an angled head and something flickers in his sapphire gaze that I can't quite place.

He seems to consider this, tilting his head thoughtfully. "No, we haven't officially met," he concedes. "Which feels like a shame, honestly."

The corners of my mouth lift in a smile. "So, are you going to introduce yourself, or are we just going to continue being strangers?"

His eyes sparkle with something like amusement as he extends a hand. "Strangers sounds nice," I say flippantly, looking out at the Dawn Courts skyline, a sliver of the sun barely visible. This party was supposed to last until dawn, until the sun returned and the entire court could watch the outmatched sunrise of this court.

I wasn't ready to commit to making any friends, I had just gained my freedom, I wished to revel in it for a few moments longer, nameless was my way of doing it.

He laughs, a rich, genuine sound that makes my heart skip. "Alright, stranger," he says, leaning casually against the railing beside me. "What brings you out to the edge of the ballroom?"

"Some air," I reply with a shrug, looking out over the garden. "I hadn't expected to feel so claustrophobic."

He nods, understanding flickering in his eyes. "Parties can be exhausting. All the faces, all the names. It's nice to step away."

I glance at him. "You sound like you've been to one too many of these."

"Oh, you have no idea," he says with a grin. "I think I've been to so many I could navigate them in my sleep."

"And here I thought you looked like you were having fun," I tease.

"Maybe I'm a good actor," he says, his tone playful. "Or maybe I just needed a reason to enjoy it."

I roll my eyes, but I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. "Does that line actually work for you?"

"More often than you'd think," he says, laughing. "But since you're clearly immune to charm, let me try a different approach." He holds out a hand, bowing slightly. "Would you do me the honor of a dance, stranger?"

I hesitate, glancing back at the ballroom, but something about his easy smile, the spark of humor in his eyes, makes me want to take his hand. I place mine in his, letting him lead me closer.

The music inside changes as his lithe fingers make contact with my waist, shifting to a slower, softer melody. He adjusts my stance, guiding me with a gentleness that surprises me. There's a warmth in his gaze that makes my heart pound just a little faster as I look up at him.

"So, princess," he murmurs as we begin to move, his voice barely audible over the music echoing from inside. "Are you here with family? Or did you sneak away to attend the most boring ball of the season?"

I laugh, looking up at him with feigned offense. "Boring? I'll have you know I'm having a wonderful time."

"Are you?" he asks, eyes twinkling. "Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

"Maybe a little of both," I admit, a smile tugging at my lips. "And you? Do you always call balls like these boring?"

"Only when my mother's not here to overhear," he replies, grinning. "But tell me, how did you get here?"

I hesitate, wondering how much to tell him, but there's something about his gaze that makes it feel safe, to be honest. "My father brought me," I say, keeping it vague. "He doesn't let me out much."

"Really?" The stranger's eyebrows lift in surprise. "I would've pegged you for someone who went wherever they pleased."

"I'd like to think so," I reply, laughing. "But apparently, my father has other ideas."

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity in his eyes. "What does he think you'll do? Start a rebellion?"

"Maybe," I say with a shrug, a playful glint in my eyes. "He's probably right."

His laughter is warm, and he holds me a little closer as we spin across the marbled balcony floor. "Well, if you ever need a partner in crime, let me know. I'm an excellent accomplice."

I arch an eyebrow, smirking. "How do I know you're any good at sneaking out?"

He grins, leaning down until his voice is a soft murmur in my ear. "Trust me, princess. You don't survive my family without learning how to slip away now and then."

I glance up, meeting his gaze, intrigued by the way his words hold a hidden depth, a story he's not telling. "Your family sounds, interesting."

"That's one way to put it," he says with a chuckle, eyes flickering with a momentary shadow. But it's gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his easy charm. "Let's just say they have certain expectations."

"Well, then maybe we have more in common than I thought," I say, softening.

"Seems that way," he murmurs, his voice softening too. There's a gentleness in his gaze now, and I feel his hands hold me just a little more securely as if he's anchoring me.

We dance like this, quietly, for a few moments, simply enjoying the music and each other's company. He spins me once, drawing a soft laugh from me, and when he pulls me back, I'm closer than I realized, his breath warm on my cheek.

"Do you think we'd have met otherwise?" he asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I blink, a little caught off guard by the question. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"Fate has a funny way of working, doesn't it?" He's still holding me close, his gaze warm and thoughtful, and I feel the world fade away a little as we look at each other.

"It does," I reply, almost breathless, my heart pounding in my chest.

He's quiet for a moment, his eyes glimmering with something I couldn't place. "I hope—I hope fate lets us meet again."

For a moment, I forget about the ballroom, about my father's rules, about everything except him. I don't know who he is, or why he's here, but something about him feels achingly familiar, like we're old friends, like I've known him in some other life.

When the music fades, he slowly lets me go, and I feel the loss of his warmth, his presence. He steps back, bowing with a playful, courtly gesture.

I scoff a laugh and give my best attempt at a curtsy. "You're a natural," He muses as the music dies down and I sidle closer to the balcony, eager to look out at the world beyond that I had never witnessed before.

The balcony feels almost timeless as we stand there, his presence beside me grounding in a way I hadn't expected. We talk as if there are no constraints, just the night around us, a quiet space carved out in the world. His words flow easily, a mix of humor and teasing, sometimes dipping into moments of gentleness that make my chest tighten.

I can't help but keep stealing glances at him, trying to memorize the sharp line of his jaw and the warm, playful gleam in his eyes. And every time I meet that gaze, I feel the strange, unshakable familiarity tugging at me—a whisper in the back of my mind that insists I know him, that maybe I've known him far longer than this one night. But I can't let myself get swept away in that feeling. Not yet.

We talk for hours about anything and everything, I tell him about the flowers below us, and what they symbolize, and in return, he tells me of the stars in the sky, the constellations, and each of their names.

We talked about things that I never voiced before, but there was a steady comfort in his presence that made me feel like I could confess even my deepest mistakes and he'd nod with understanding in his eyes, not a flicker of judgment.

We didn't go into the ballroom the entire night, had taken up the small seating area that curved around the side of the building I hadn't noticed before.

"So, princess," he says, smirking as he leans his back into his chair, arms folded in a lazy, practiced ease, "if you weren't here, what kind of trouble would you be getting yourself into?"

I think for a moment, letting my fingers graze the ivy-covered stone. "Trouble? I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I'm sure you don't." He smirks, an amused glint in his eyes. "I pegged you for the rebellious type the moment I set eyes on you." He goes on.

I shrug, glancing out over the shadowed garden below. "Well, clearly you don't know me very well," I reply in a snarky tone, my lips curling into a teasing smile. "Perhaps I'm a perfectly obedient daughter who follows all the rules."

His laugh is low and rich, sending a pleasant shiver through me. "Now, I find that hard to believe," he murmurs, tilting his head to meet my gaze. "A wildflower like you, growing in a gilded cage? No, I think you're meant to be out there—" he gestures to the dark mountains beyond the garden, "—living on your own terms."

My cheeks warm under his gaze, but I lift my chin. "And you? What about you, oh wise stranger? Surely you're not the type to follow anyone's rules but your own."

"Oh, I'd follow them," he says, his voice dropping to a playful murmur, "if you were the one making them."

I feel my face flush at his words, but I can't resist matching his grin. "Be careful what you wish for. I'd hate to ruin that roguish charm with a few boundaries."

"Boundaries?" He raises an eyebrow, laughing. "I don't believe you’re the kind of girl to put them in place, life's far more interesting without them, don't you think?" He cocks his head in an all too demeaning fashion, as if he knows me better than to even suggest such a thing. I can’t help but smile at the familiarity, of being truly seen and known, it was foreign, but welcomed. “More than you know,” I reply, a softer atmosphere taking over with the tenderness in my voice.

"So, what does someone like you dream of seeing?"

It's a simple enough question, but I find myself hesitating, surprised by how much I want to answer, how easy it feels to open up to him. "I want to see everything," I admit, my voice almost a whisper. "Every corner of the world. The mountains, the seas. I want to taste the air in different places and feel the ground under my feet where no one else has walked. I want to be free."

It's more than I've ever shared with anyone, especially someone who doesn't even know my name. I swallow, feeling suddenly vulnerable, but when I glance at him, his gaze is warm, and understanding. As if he knows exactly what I mean.

"I think freedom suits you," he says softly like he's revealing a secret. "It's in your eyes—the way they look past this place, like you're already somewhere else entirely."

His words send a shiver through me, and for a moment, I can't find any words at all. So instead, I look away, watching as the sky shifts from deep indigo to a paler shade, hinting at the dawn. "Maybe one day I'll get to see it all," I say, more to myself than to him.

"I have a feeling you will." His voice is quiet, almost wistful, and I glance back to find him watching me with that same, unsettling familiarity, as if he, too, feels this strange pull between us.

We fall into an easy silence after that, leaning against the railing side by side as the stars start to fade. Occasionally, he says something that makes me laugh, and I find myself telling him things I'd never tell anyone else—about the books I love, the dreams I've buried, the way I crave a life that's different from the one set out for me.

He listens, really listens, his attention never wavering. And in return, he shares pieces of himself, though I sense he's careful, holding back just as much as I am. He speaks of a family that has expectations, a life lived beneath a weight that isn't always visible. I don't pry, but I nod, letting him know I understand.

The sky lightens, a faint glow spreading over the horizon, and I can't help but feel a pang of regret as the world around us starts to wake.

"You know," he murmurs, his voice low, "I think this might be one of the best conversations I've ever had."

I laugh softly, though my heart aches a little at the thought of this night ending. "You don't get many opportunities to talk with strangers on balconies?"

"Not like this," he says, glancing down at me, his expression unreadable. "Not with someone like you."

There's something so earnest in his gaze that I feel my resolve waver. I want to tell him who I am, to share every piece of myself, but a part of me resists, clinging to this fleeting anonymity.

"Thank you," I say softly, and I mean it more than he could ever know.

"For what?" he asks, his tone warm.

"For reminding me that people can be kind. That they can listen." I smile up at him, feeling a strange mixture of sadness and hope. "I think I needed that."

The first light of dawn glimmers on the horizon, casting a soft glow over the garden. Slowly, he reaches out, taking my hand in his, his touch warm and steady. I feel his thumb brush gently over my knuckles, and it sends a wave of warmth through me, a silent promise in his touch.

"Maybe one day," he says softly, his voice barely a whisper, "we'll meet again. Maybe fate will give us that."

I can't bring myself to say anything, so I simply nod, letting myself savor the feel of his hand in mine for just a moment longer.

As the first rays of sunlight touch the garden below, he releases my hand, stepping back with a soft smile. He gives me one last, lingering look before turning, disappearing through the terrace doors and back into the world from which he came.

I stay there, watching as the light fills the sky, feeling like I've lost something precious and found something rare all at once.

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[hoshifighting]

seungkwan sporty college fling?? plss 🤭🫦

a/n: first of all— IUSHDIASUHIUNFIABDIASUDIUBFIUHE the fach that he's exactly my type makes me weak on the kneeeeees!! second: WITH THE PICS ALREADY? LOVE YOU! WARNINGS: smut, fluff, med student!reader who's interning in the university's infirmary, handjob, oral (m. receiving)

sporty college fling!seungkwan who's, like, everywhere on campus. if there’s a sport to play, you bet your ass he’s signed up. volleyball, tennis, soccer, basketball, swimming, god, even frisbee if it means he gets to be out there showing off. and, look, it’s not even about the attention—though he loves that, too. he just loves the energy, the cheers from the sidelines, the way he can walk off the field dripping sweat, grinning like he just won the damn lottery.

so when he catches wind that you’re interning in the college infirmary? oh, he’s already scheming. you had no idea he knew you were there, but seungkwan’s been keeping tabs on you ever since that one history class last semester, where he’d sit behind you just to crack dumb jokes and steal your notes when you weren’t looking. he’s been hovering on the edge of your radar ever since, some mix of a friend and a tease that’s always around, always a little too close, always making you laugh even when you’re trying to focus.

so of course, it’s not a coincidence that today he’s on the field, pulling a stunt in the middle of a perfectly normal soccer game. there’s a loud yelp, and before you know it, seungkwan’s got his ass on the ground, clutching his ankle like he’s been hit by a truck. dramatic doesn’t even cover it. a friend tries to help him up, but he waves them off like he’s gotta handle this himself.

“nah, nah, i need a professional,” he says, wincing like he’s in some world-class pain, all while side-eyeing the infirmary building. eventually, the whole team’s staring at him, and the coach—who’s definitely onto him, by the way—just sighs and gestures toward the infirmary.

“alright, go get checked out,” he grumbles, “and don’t make it a habit, boo.”

so in he limps, or, well, mostly fakes limping. you’re organizing the medicine cabinet when you hear him stumble in, and the second you turn around and see him putting on that pitiful, injured expression, you know something’s up.

“oh, my god,” you deadpan, crossing your arms. “what happened this time, seungkwan?”

he sighs, laying it on thick. “soccer injury,” he says, wincing as he hobbles over to sit on the infirmary bed. “took a hard hit. they said only the best in here can take care of me.”

you roll your eyes, grabbing the ice pack and tossing it to him. “you know i can see through this bullshit, right?”

he smirks, barely able to keep up the act as he catches the ice pack and shrugs. “hey, i thought i’d at least get a little sympathy. i could be bleeding out, you know?”

“from your ankle? really?” you quip back, unable to stop the grin forming on your face. he shrugs and presses the ice pack to his ankle, looking around like he’s already scouting out what else he can mess with in here. it’s like he doesn’t even have to try—just exists, and it’s annoying but also kind of cute how he always manages to get away with it.

sporty college fling!seungkwan in those thin-ass shorts that they cling in all the right places, showing off his thick thighs, flexing calves, and the outline that has you looking anywhere but his lap whenever he walks into the infirmary. he’s got that sporty glow, a little sweat-slick, hair sticking to his forehead, flushed cheeks from running around, and that cocky smirk that’s always somewhere between friendly and downright dangerous.

so when you’re shrugging off your white coat, your tank top sticking a bit because the damn AC is broken, you catch him watching. his eyes go half-lidded, looking you up and down like you’re not a damn intern who’s just here to patch him up. he can’t even help it, a tiny little gulp as you reach back, trying to hold his knee steady while you clean up the latest scrape. and you lean over him—just a little closer to get a good angle—but the look on his face is downright sinful. he’s flushed deeper than ever, lips parted, eyes blown out like he’s somewhere far away from just a check-up.

and then you see it. oh, he’s really trying to keep it together, but that bulge is so obvious, so tight against the fabric of his shorts, it’s almost painful just looking at it. he’s shifting in place, his thighs pressing together, his hands gripping the edge of the bed, trying so damn hard to play it cool. trying being the keyword. you glance up, arching an eyebrow, giving him a once-over that has his face going from flushed to wrecked.

“you, uh… need help with anything else?” you murmur, voice dropping a bit, glancing between his lap and his face like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

he damn near chokes on his own breath, a helpless moan slipping out before he can stop it, his hips shifting forward as if he’s waiting for permission. and he spreads his legs wider, scooting to the edge of the bed, that smug smile barely peeking through as he bites his lip, knowing exactly what he’s about to ask for without saying a single word.

when you step forward and slip your hand between his legs, fingers skimming over the fabric, he lets out a broken sigh, tipping his head back with this blissed-out look that makes your heart pound.

sporty college fling!seungkwan whos losing his cool right in front of you, his little fantasy about to come true as you start to pull down those shorts, that look of relief as your hand wraps around him.

he’s biting his lip so hard it’s a wonder he doesn’t draw blood, trying to muffle the whimpers spilling out as you give him a few slow strokes, teasing just enough to make him squirm.

“fuck,” he hisses, pressing his palm tighter against his mouth, eyes wide as he glances toward the door like he’s expecting someone to walk in. you can’t help but chuckle softly; the thought of getting caught makes this whole thing even hotter. the university walls are so thin you can practically hear the whispers in the hallway, and seungkwan's face is a so desperate.

“c’mon, be quiet,” you tease, your voice low as you lean in a bit closer, brushing your thumb over the slick tip of his cock. it’s dripping now, and you can feel the pre-cum pooling in your hand, making it so easy to slide your fingers along his length. he whimpers again, muffling the sound with his hand, and it’s the kind of sweet, desperate noise that makes you want to do this forever.

“i can’t help it,” he whispers, trying to keep his voice down but failing miserably, and you can’t tell if he’s more embarrassed by how loud he is or by the way he’s getting even harder under your touch. you pick up the pace a bit, letting your fingers work him as his breath hitches, eyes rolling back just a little.

he clenches his eyes shut, the way he arches his back, trying to chase the pleasure.. his grip on his mouth tightens, and you can see the strain in his muscles, how he’s fighting against the urge to let it all out.

his gaze drops, catching on your fingers wrapped around him, nails perfectly manicured and glinting as they move, slow at first and then faster, like you’re testing just how much he can take. his eyes flick up, and the sight of your chest, bouncing with each stroke, almost sends him over the edge. it’s the kind of view he could lose himself in—is losing himself in—and he can’t look away, no matter how much he wants to keep his cool.

the slick, wet sound fills the small space, louder than his shaky breaths, louder than the little whimpers he’s trying so hard to hold back. his hips buck up, chasing the friction, and you can see him practically falling apart in your hand, his lip pulled between his teeth as he fights to stay quiet. it’s no use, though; his control is slipping, and he knows it.

“fuck—” he chokes out, voice breaking as his hand clamps over his mouth again, but his eyes stay glued to you, watching every single move you make. he swallows, pupils blown wide, his gaze flicking between your hand and your face. he looks like he’s about to burst any second.

the second your lips wrap around just the tip of his cock, seungkwan’s hands fly to his mouth, but it’s useless. the control he’d tried so hard to keep shatters instantly. a loud, ragged moan escapes, so reckless it could probably be heard down the hall, but he doesn’t care anymore.

“oh, fuck—no, wait, wait,” he gasp-whines, hands gripping the edge of the infirmary bed. his hips buck, but he’s melting under your touch, eyes rolling back as you swirl your tongue just around the head. its like his body’s got a mind of its own now, the pleasure overtaking everything else, every little shudder amplified. the quiet whimpers turn to full-on, desperate moans—he’s way past caring if anyone outside hears.

and then—before he can even manage a warning so you could take your mouth off him—his whole body tightens, and he’s coming, spilling over your tongue, a hot, sudden burst that has him gasping. his hand fly up, fingers digging into his own hair, breathless as he watches

he tries to collect himself. his legs feel weak, like he’s just finished sprinting through campus, but it’s way better than any game high. his legs are trembling, knees wobbling as he hops off the bed, trying to look at least half put-together while he straightens his shorts. but one look at your smirk, and he’s got that shy, red-faced grin back, a little embarrassed.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who keeps sneaking into the infirmary for a “checkup” every chance he gets, especially after practice, because, according to him, “gotta make sure i’m in top shape, right?”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who starts showing up with snacks for you after practice—sweaty, still in his shorts and jersey, claiming they’re for you so “you don’t have to eat that vending machine crap all day.”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who eventually works up the courage to pull you into a storage room between rounds, pushing you against a shelf with that smirk of his, whispering, “you didn’t think i forgot about how good you looked last time, did you?”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who practically has your schedule memorized by now, showing up at the infirmary right when you’re alone, leaning against the doorframe as he says, “miss me yet?” like he’s not been haunting your thoughts all damn day.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who starts leaving you little notes in your bag with ridiculous messages, like “come to my game, i need my lucky charm,” with a winking face drawn on it. and when you finally show up, he plays like his life depends on it, catching your eye in the crowd every chance he gets, shooting you that smirk as he sprints down the field.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who gets bolder every time you’re alone, wrapping his arm around your waist in the empty hallway, backing you against the wall, grinning when you shoot him a look. “don’t act so innocent,” he murmurs, tilting his head down to kiss you until you’re breathless, leaving you flushed and slightly disheveled before slipping away like nothing happened.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who gives you his hoodie on chilly nights after practice, watching with a satisfied grin as you pull it over your head. he’d even say, “looks better on you, anyway,” then stroll off, pretending not to be thrilled seeing you in his clothes.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who one day catches you in the library and somehow convinces you to sneak into one of the back study rooms, grinning as he shuts the door and pulls you close, whispering, “been dying to get you alone, you know that?” before pressing his lips to yours, hands sliding up your back as if he’s got nowhere else he’d rather be.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who gives you a hard time for staying late at the infirmary, texting you, “don’t make me come drag you out myself,” and then showing up anyway. he lingers, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, looking at you with a smug smile and saying, “told you i’d come get you.”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who finally asks you to stay over after a game, all soft and flushed from the adrenaline, looking at you with those bright, honest eyes. he murmurs, “you know, i don’t really want this to just be a fling,” his hand slipping into yours.

[starry-hughes]

façade

jack hughes x reader (ex)

summary: jack hughes can’t admit he lost you.

warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST, jack hughes is a LIAR

navigation

Everything was muffled as Jack Hughes stared at his cup. A clear cup full of bubbly champagne. Guests around him, mostly family, all laughing and talking. Jack didn’t like champagne. You didn’t like champagne. It was never kept in the apartment because of the shared dislike for it. It tasted sour in Jack’s mouth.

He broke from his trance as Quinn slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Stop pouting,” his older brother joked. “Your girlfriend had a work trip, you can survive a wedding without her.”

It stung. It really did. You weren’t his girlfriend. You hadn’t been since April. But he hadn’t gotten the courage to tell anyone that the two of you had broken up. And here Jack was, at a cousin’s wedding, lying to every family member who asked him where you were. “Oh she has a work trip, couldn’t make it unfortunately.” The lie came out easier than ever. He had been lying to everyone so it was easy to continue doing so.

His parents. God he felt guilty for lying to them. It was like he was eight years old again, lying that he did his homework already. Except now, the lie was bigger than undone homework. The lie was that every time he looked at his phone, he was texting you. Every time his parents asked about you, he would just say you were busy with work, or make up some story about how you had called earlier and told him about your day. How he made sure he sent flowers or dinner to you since he was away and you weren’t with him. The lie just got bigger and bigger when his dad sat down and gave him the talk about proposing, making sure he asked for permission before proposing, the offer of the family heirloom ring.

His family loved you. Everyone loved you. He barely held himself together when his uncle joked that the next wedding would be Jack’s and yours. Oh if only they knew.

Jack didn’t know where it all went wrong. Everything had seemed perfectly fine. Everything was fine in Jack’s eyes. Then he watched as your stuff had slowly began disappearing from the apartment. You weren’t around as much. When the team had finally allowed Jack to get his surgery, when it was confirmed that the team wouldn’t make playoffs, he was home more.

It seemed fine. And then he finally asked what was wrong.

Luke was on a roadtrip. Jack was recovering from surgery but he asked what was wrong. “What is happening to us?”

The words hit you like a truck. You weren’t ready to have this conversation. It was going to hurt. But you knew you were in the wrong. You had decided to slowly leave without even talking to Jack. And now he knew. “We both know we aren’t happy.”

Your words broke his heart. He swore he felt his heart stop working. He was happy. “I’m happy,” he stuttered. His arm was in a sling but all he wanted to do was hug you. “I’m not, Jack.”

Tears stung his eyes. You were going to break his heart. “I can fix this. Let me fix this!” His voice was breaking. Everything was unraveling before him. He couldn’t play hockey. He was about to lose the one person in the world he was sure he couldn’t live without. This wasn’t fair. “It can’t be fixed!” you snapped back, “I’m not happy here. I’m not happy with you. Or this relationship anymore.”

There it was. His heart shattering. His eyes hurt and hot tears rolled down his cheeks. “What did I do wrong?” his voice cracked. “We are just in different parts of our lives.” How could he not see this coming? How was it such a shock to him? How had he been so stupid to let himself lose you?

“I can fix it, I promise.”

He was pleading, begging. Anything to make you reconsider. He thought about his summers with you and his family, the way you joked around with his brothers, the way you loved talking to his parents, the way you would run around with his youngest cousins. The boat days when you looked pretty his eyes couldn’t be on anything or anyone else. The family reunions where you sat with his grandparents and listened to their stories.

He thought about the winters with you. The winters where you curled around him in bed because you were cold. The game days where you showed up in his jersey. The way you stood in the stands and cheered him on. The time it snowed when you went home with him on Christmas break and watching you stare at the snowflakes in awe. He thought about the autumns with you. The way you loved walks in the city, watching the leaves change colors. The way the air turned cool and you would steal his jackets. The way you and him would curl up, undressed in bed, windows open and the cool autumn air would blow in and give you the need to be closer to him.

The springs with you. The season he bought you flowers every week. The air warming up and watching your wardrobe change back to spring colors and how pretty you looked. The way you would pick a flower from the grass and put it in his hair. How you stared at how the sun reflected his eyes. How he fell in love with you over and over again with the seasons.

And all of it was slipping away in moments.

It was like he was watching three years circle the drain. The love you had for him had drained out of the sink and his was overflowing. Love, like water, spilled on the ground, over the lip of this metaphorical sink, it was filling, it was always full, always overflowing. And he hadn’t even realized that you had pulled the drain on your sink.

“Please.” It was one word. It came out strained. His mouth was dry. Was he about to throw up? How would he have to tell his family? His friends? How would he have to admit he lost the best damn thing that walked into his life? How would he admit that he let it just walk out?

For a second, you stared at him. Memories flashed through your brain. How Jack looked on your first date. How he looked lying next to you in bed at night, sleeping peacefully. Were you really about to give this all up? Yes.

“I’m sorry.”

When Luke returned from his roadtrip, he noticed the apartment was colder. Jack’s bedroom door shut and your stuff was missing. He assumed he would tell him eventually but it never came. Luke watched Jack bite his tongue days later when Nico asked about you, he watched the lie fall out of Jack’s mouth. Something about you having to relocate for your job but you were still dating. Luke knew it was a lie.

Now, Jack stood in the middle of the reception at his cousin’s wedding. At least he wasn’t still at the ceremony, watching two people in love seal their relationship with rings, watching the event that he was sure that you and him would eventually reach. The reception was lovely. And there he was with his glass of champagne that was getting warmer by the second.

Quinn stood on one side of Jack, Luke on the other. “When you and (Y/N) get married do I get to be the best man or does Lukey get to?” Quinn asked. He didn’t mean it to remind Jack that he was a liar. He genuinely had no idea Jack and you weren’t together. Luke stared at Jack, watching his eyes glaze over with tears for a brief second. Luke was hoping, praying, silently begging that Jack would end his own self-inflicted pain.

Jack forced a smile and a laugh, “You two can fight for that position. (Y/N) doesn’t care either way.”

[nepenthendline]

you and shinsou have quite a few non-verbal ways of communicating, like different hand squeezes that mean different things (2 for a check-in, 3 for 'I love you'), or broken sign-language that you both learned, but his favourite thing is when he taps his thigh twice, signalling that he needs you in his arms

----

you, Shinsou, and your classmates were hanging out in the common room - you were chatting with some around the tables whilst some of the boys were playing games. The guys decided to take a quick break to restock on snacks and drinks, leaving denki and midoriya left on the couch. Kaminari was lazily watching Shinsou in the kitchen area, mostly making sure he was getting all the correct snacks he asked for since the newest class addition was slightly distracted talking to Mina. Even with the distance, Kaminari could hear Mina yelling with a flurry of questions and remarks about Shinsou's quirk. After a few moments, he noticed his friend reach down and tap his thigh softly, twice, and then left him arm open to his side. Within seconds, you had bee-lined over to him, burying yourself in his chest as he held you close with that arm. Kaminari had seen him do this a few times, yet it never really clicked what was going on.

'Izuku...' Kaminari started, his eyes trailing from the sight to his other friend on the couch next to him. Midoriya's head shot up, nodding for him to continue. 'Have you noticed that Shinsou does this thing where he taps his leg?' Midoriya nodded again, this time with a wide smile - ever the observant one, he did love watching you and Shinsou together and knowing how happy you made each other.

'Yeah! He does it a lot! Whenever he does, they come over straight away. I don't know what it means exactly, but it's just one of the things they do to communicate, I suppose,' Midoriya expanded, chin in hand in deep thought. Before Kaminari could add anything else, a flash of purple in his vision took his attention, as Shinsou was walking back to the couches with arms cradling various treats. He dropped them on the coffee table and handed Kaminari his drink.

'Dude, what's up with that leg tap thing you do?' Midoriya's face was flushed next to him, surprised he was so open with the question. Shinsou raised a brow and smirked, then sat down on the arm on the couch.

'Watch,' he directed, then tapped his thigh again twice without his gaze leaving Kaminari. His arm was held out to his side again, as if waiting for something. He wasn't usually this open when it came to you two, but there was something about teasing his desperate friend that he enjoyed.

'3..2..1,' Shinsou counted down, and as soon as he reached one, you were in front of him, leaning into his chest and burying your face in his neck. You mumbled a 'you ok?' considering this was the second time he had done this within a few minutes. He let out a deep chuckle and nodded, rubbing his hand up and down your arm in comfort.

Kaminari's eyes were wide in shock. 'You have them trained?' He gasped (he was so jealous he didn't have a partner he could do something like this with). Shinsou laughed louder at his reaction. Hearing Kaminari's remark, you pulled your head out of Shinsou's neck to face him.

'Hm?' You question, not knowing what's going on. Shinsou ducked his head slightly to level his eyes with yours, before speaking lowly.

'Kaminari wanted to know about the thigh tapping, so was just demonstrating, that's all,' he kissed your forehead after, as if to ensure that everything was ok.

'Oh!' You turned towards the blonde whilst keeping your arms around your boyfriend. You were able to explain further when Midoriya chimed in.

'It's to get them to come close to you, right?' He quizzed in the same serious manner as to when he's trying to fill in his quirk journal. Shinsou nodded, pulling you tighter in his arms.

'If I need them closer, if I think they're in danger, if I think they're worrying,' the last one caused your head to tilt to the side as you looked up at him - that wasn't a reason you were aware of. He smiled at you, fingers brushing over your back, and continued, 'like of I'm talking to someone else for too long. You're easy to read when you're jealous,' he flicked your forehead gently, smirking at your pout. You tucked your head back into his neck and whined.

'M'not jealous,' you mumbled, 'just... get anxious,' and he knows. He never wants you to feel like that, not when it comes to him. So whenever he senses your anxiety when his focus is on something else, he uses his thigh signal to comfort you without interrupting the matter. That way, he can silently remind you that he wants you, not anyone else, and that even if he's enjoying time with friends or classmates, he still wants you close.

Kaminari's loud groan shook you both away from your thoughts and watched at his laid his head dramatically in Midoriya's lap, hands covering his face. 'You guys are too cute,' he fake-sobbed, making you giggled.

Yeah, you two were pretty cute.

[deadghosy]

Mattheo, Theodore, Lorenzo x male reader (Group/poly)

Where they’re werewolves? — super protective & scenting their mate all the time

WEREWOLF! MATTHEO, THEODORE & LORENZO X MALE! READER

You didn’t know how this happened. All you did was be yourself around your housemates in Slytherin. Not knowing 3 of them were werewolves, and now. You’re their mate. Their scent all over you, always are around you. They look like bodyguards as mattheo and Theodore are by your side while as Lorenzo is behind you when walking to class or anywhere.

Some might say you are very protected, which is true. Your boys love you well to the point they get kinda aggressive when they deem someone as a threat to the relationship the four of you have. Mattheo almost got a boy into a coma, all because the student didn’t “back off”. Theodore goes with verbal abuse and confrontation. He knows how to scare people away. And then there’s Lorenzo who’s a devil in disguise. Doing small little curses at the person. Making them go crazy.

Sometimes you can’t even catch your own breath around those 3. When relaxing in the common room, mattheo is on your left, Theodore is on your right, and Lorenzo is just sitting in front of your legs and in between them. His head leaning back so you could scratch his scalp. The boys are always begging for you to scratch their scalp. The way you do it just makes them wanna claim you all over again.

When you scratch mattheo, his head is all in your neck. Pressing soft kisses, he’ll even do small nips at it as he rubs your hips. For when you scratch Theodore, his tall body is leaning down on you. Making you having to lay on something as Theodore is literally rubbing his face in your neck. Masking his scent again on you over, and over. Lorenzo is slightly tamed as he just smile while giving your wrist soft kisses. Your boys love you very well.

Sometimes you play little jokes on them. Mattheo would try to find you when you had sprayed your fragrance you use a lot on a hoodie so you can trick the riddle werewolf that you were in your room. When really you were outside in the yard. Mattheo found you an hour later and was absolutely touch starved. Immediately hugging you and kissing your face with those beautiful eyes of his tracking your whole body to make sure you were okay.

Lorenzo is practically the most softest of them all. He’s the one who follows you the most. Rubbing your stomach when lying down together, holding your hands.

And when the full moon hits. They can’t help but transform into their wolves and lick your hands and face. Their licks to your face is basically kisses as they try to speak only to growl in admiration at how you aren’t scared of them. Mattheo is a dark wolf, Theodore is a mixture of light brown and brown fur, and Lorenzo is just a bright brown color. So you’re lucky to know which one is which.

Right as of now, you are in what muggles call a dog pile. Lorenzo is on your stomach, mattheo is on your right, and Theodore is on your left. Cuddling you with their body heat as the slight broken heater in your room was heating it up against the cold night. Lorenzo was half asleep as he just cuddled deeper against your belly. Sometimes Lorenzo had “urges” deeper than the other boys surprisingly. Mattheo was playing with your fingers as Theodore was playing with your hair. “Darling..when is the next moon?” Lorenzo asks, his voice a little husky from drowsiness. You took a deep breath in and look over at the calendar.

“Oh my…it’s tonight…” you say, sitting up a little as your boys groaned annoyed. They hated turning into wolves. More or so reasons because they can’t hold you properly or ki ss you properly. They find it mostly annoying how you baby them when they pamper you so much in their regular form.

“I hate it..” Lorenzo said. Nuzzling his messy bed hair against your stomach before pouting up at you. “I know dear.” You said with a soft voice. You started to scratch his scalp, making him let out a sigh of relief. Your two boys only relaxed in your presence. Minutes passed and they could feel themselves wanting to transform.

“Can I kiss you before we transform?”

“Could I still lay on you??”

“Can I hug you right now?”

Questions were just thrown out in the air. You weren’t overwhelmed of course, just thrown off at how quick your boys wanted you before they transformed. You kissed mattheo gently, you let Theodore hug you. His dark wood scent clinging into you. And you nodded yes to Lorenzo who smiled still. Just happy to stay lay on you. Again, a few minutes pass and mattheo is the first one to transform. His dark black fur covering your eyes of Theodore and Lorenzo following suit. Now you felt a wolf’s nose on your stomach. Whimpering as Theodore and mattheo just snuggle into your arms.

“Awww Lorenzo..it’s just for tonight love.” You say that but the poor werewolf has his ears pushed back. It seems mattheo is laughing at the other werewolf. Because Theodore then smacks the dark wolf with his paw. Making mattheo growl a little. “Hey! No fighting on my bed you gits.” You give them a pointed look. Making your three boys nuzzle against you.

They licked your face, making you giggle. Your giggle made it even more known at how sweet and apiece you were and are to them.

They are your boys.

[anaconamor]

we’re pretending? - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: no date to an upcoming wedding, you use your best friend as last resort. what happens when your best friend isn’t playing pretend anymore and you’re left conflicted with these unusual feelings…

wc: 4.6 k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa 🗣️: i used my og ‘glory box’ fic to get some inspo while writing this fic ngl!! 😣 this was so fun to write not only by the trope but the DRAMAAAA!! like always, hope you enjoy! 🤍

“yes mom, i know. i picked my dress up yesterday, and my flight is booked as well,” you sighed and rolled your eyes knowing she wouldn’t be able to see you through the phone. she knew how important this wedding was but she kept putting the pressure on you. it was the last thing you needed especially after you told her you’d bring someone along.

that someone was now you’re ex-boyfriend. you had less than 48 hours to come up with an excuse or show up alone.

"are you still bringing your plus one?" she asked, the line going silent for a few seconds before she spoke up again. "y/n? are you there?" you should've just lied or said the truth, all you could think of was how happy and super excited she was when you told her you'd met someone and began dating.

"yes mom... we both will be there," you closed your eyes, disappointment in yourself filling the void in your head. you could hear her squeal in the background, telling a voice there with her about the good news. you chewed on your lip anxiously, wanting to cut the call or else you'd break down.

"listen mom, i have t-to go okay? ill call you tomorrow. try not to stress so much," you smiled weakly hearing an "i love you", ending the call after gifting your goodbye. there was no avoiding the mistake you had committed. you wanted to slap some common sense into yourself, because where the hell were you about to find someone?

you clearly remembered the day telling your mom you'd met someone at uni. she was over the moon and wanted to tell everyone but you dismissed the idea, not wanting to rush since you had recently met. you would call her and tell her about him, and she listened so attentively, just like in the movies.

you couldn't bring yourself to tell her when you and max had broken up. your whole life has always been surrounded by being told you needed to be more like your older sister, the pressure of being a golden child laid on you. for once you had something, but that had to get ruined as well.

the scolding, the perfect grades, friends, hell even family. you had to be so careful and live up to their expectations. you loved them, you did, but at times you just felt like moving away was the best idea. and you did just that, the first to move out to a new country, breaking records at uni, and even finding a suitable job.

your boss loved you, and coworkers admired you for the passion and dedication you carried. so why did it have to go all wrong with max? you had an image of him in your head that he was madly in love with you, though you'd later be proven wrong when you found out he was sleeping with his boss. finding them in the act on your 6th month anniversary.

you still can recall the feeling of being unable to breathe, their screams and his pleading going quiet as you could just stare into the room, not once being able to see his eyes. disgust, and rage, but mostly sadness, a heavy heart, and the lump in your throat. he hurt you terribly and you would forever resent that.

after the call, you sat quietly on the couch, hands in your hair as you thought about everything. looking around seeing your bags packed, the blue dress hanging by your room, pictures everywhere. you hated to admit but you were living in a hell, life messy and a disaster. your buzz ringed, seeing through the tiny camera your best friend jude in the frame.

you allowed him in, walking over to the large mirror and wiping away the dry tears, making yourself look more presentable. you looked worn out, eyes droopy and low, lips slightly chapped, and to make matters worse a zit on your chin. you exhaled a breath, keys jiggling as jude came in.

he set his training bag down, took his shoes off, and walked to you, giving you a small hug. "you look terrible," you gave him a warning look, "but lucky you, i brought us food," he spoke cheerfully, the mood inside you going from gloomy to content. "it's raining like crazy, i almost fell coming up. also i brought some packages and your mail," jude continued.

"thank you, i haven't had the time to go down and pick them up! i've been so busy packing and planning last-minute stuff," you groaned, going to the kitchen and washing your hands. "watch, in the next few minutes i'm going to get a call," you theorized. jude pulled out the food and served it into your plates as you grabbed a water for him and a soda for yourself.

"how was training?"

jude shrugged unimpressed, "same old. didn't really have to go in, but they needed me for a small campaign shoot, so i had no choice. also cama and tchou send their hello's."

you and jude spoke amongst yourself. just about each other's days and catching up from the last time you guys were together. you teased him about losing a bet with his little brother, jude whining about how he cheated. new music that came out, and a pop up store that opened lower in downtown.

"so what's got your head in a twist?" jude sipped on his last few ounces of water, leaning his head on his propped-up arm and hand. you awkwardly scratch the back of your neck, pick up the dirty dishes, and walk to the sink. "okay don't make fun of me-"

"you're basically asking me too... also no promises since you just made fun of me for losing against jobe," jude chuckled.

"jude."

"oh it's serious then... what did you do?" he saw the serious look on your face, a small worry constructing in his chest because he rarely saw you like this. you close your eyes, feeling the anxiety build in you once again, "i told my mom i was still bringing max..."

jude scoffed in denial, or trying to cope with the confusion, "y/n, you what?"

"i know! i know! i should've just confessed and coughed up the truth but i- i couldn't! she was so excited jude! i feel terrible for lying believe me i do, but after telling her about him and filling her with hope to break her heart, i just c-c-couldn't," you ramble, dishes clattering as you freaked out.

in your head it didn't seem as bad, but fully saying it out loud to jude, seemed even worse. jude grimaced, knowing you had messed up bad especially since the wedding was right around the corner. "i'm just embarrassed... i know they will start something and just talk down on me if i showed up alone."

jude knew how heavy-handed your family could be, often wanting to resent them because he cared for you so much. he saw how physically and mentally they could rain you even with the smallest sentence. they seemed so worried with their lives instead of the ones they should most value and care for.

jude gave you a concerned face, "what?" chuckling nervously when you gasped out, almost being able to see the lit-up light bulb on top of your head. "jude, I'm a genius!"

"well i beg to differ-"

"shut up," you pat your finger against your chin, a mischievous smile on your lip taunting jude's concern even more. "i don't know why i didn't think of this sooner! why don't you pretend to be my boyfriend? just for the wedding that's it!"

jude shook his head, hands coming up to back out of the idea. it was one thing you lying, but now asking you to play pretend was something totally different. "that's not a good idea y/n..." jude clenched his teeth forcing a smile. "oh cmon why not?"

"well, first of all, that's an even bigger lie to your mom. second, pretending would seem impossible. third, i don't want the first time meeting your parents to be a lie because of what happened," jude defended and stated his case.

"it's a huge favor but you'd save my life jude! one weekend and that's it! you have plenty of suits, you're also off this weekend, and they would never suspect a thing! please jude! i wouldn't be asking if i wasn't so desperate," you begged, seeing the hesitation in his eyes.

"it seems like a bad idea... you don't know what you're asking for y/n... were pretending to be a couple when were not! we have to make it believable even under the pressure of the wedding. a theatrical play, a stunt!" jude exclaimed standing up from his chair.

"jude please, please, please! it might feel weird but it's for the night only! after that, we go back to the good old y/n and jude," you followed him as he paced in your living room thinking of his answer. would it be back to normal even if he continued to feel the same for you? the unknown loving feeling he had for you?

the pretending would be hard when all he could hardly think of was you. how he felt recently and how nervous he got around you. he would do anything for you in a heartbeat, but this would break jude further than now. he couldn't fake pretend holding your hand, or kissing your cheek when he meant and wanted to do that with you currently.

as bad as the idea was, here he was hugging you as you cheerfully yelped when he agreed. time moved slowly for him, the sensation of regret and curiosity as what was yet to come from both of you. all he cared for was to make sure you were happy, and if faking being your boyfriend would help you, he was willing to do it, no matter the consequences.

as jude was fixing his hair, you finished setting your makeup with some powder and setting spray. nerves bubbling in you after the first test you encountered last night after your arrival. you let out a laugh at the tiny bed you had to share with jude. seeing his uneasy face even after he offered to sleep on the couch.

"we're running on schedule," you spoke, finishing clasping your jewelry around your hands and rings. jude came behind you, his shirt unbuttoned and abs in full view, as he finished zipping his pants. best friend or not, there was no denying how incredibly sexy jude was. the name should speak for itself, but with the looks and personality he had, it was too good to be true.

"need some help?" he asked seeing you nod slowly and looking down at your feet. he took the necklace, your skin on fire as his fingertips grazed your skin accidentally, almost jumping on the spot, goosebumps grazing your body. he clasped the necklace, grabbing the pendent and fixing it so it laid in the middle. "perfect," he cockliy smirked.

"thank you."

"are you almost ready?" he looked at you as he buttoned up his shirt, you almost stuttered but regained consciousness, "yes, just need to put my dress and shoes on," you turned back quickly furrowing your brows, wanting to slap yourself for allowing yourself to get carried away, or maybe at the uneasy desire in you when seeing jude.

you went to the bathroom, grabbing the lacy undergarments and the blue dress. the color was to die for, the perfect length even with your heels on, the opened back with the front just showing the perfect amount of cleavage, and the whole dress just accentuating your body even more.

you felt the need to throw some water in your face though you couldn't or else it would ruin your makeup. you settled with fanning yourself with your hand, the tense in your chest getting to you as it was becoming real now. you were just pretending with jude. nothing more right?

you looked in the huge light-up mirror, and suddenly the confidence you had dripped away as you thought of jude in the next room over. why did all of a sudden everything feel like it wasn't before? as in, things changed drastically since the night at your apartment? you've never felt this clumsy or as edgy around him.

when you woke up this morning, with jude on top of you laying peacefully, you couldn't help but feel overjoyed, as if it was a natural state and you've done it before. in your own world where the only thing that mattered was him and you. since then you were slightly freaked out, butterflies in your chest when he left or walk into the room.

jude double taked a look as you walked into the room again. the tiny room that felt like a joke to him after walking in hand to hand last night. his eyes roamed you, lips slightly separated as he admired your beauty, heart hammering in his chest. he watched as you grabbed your cheeks, immediately offering to help.

he leaned down, gently grabbing your foot and placing the white jeweled heel on you. your hands were clamped around the small bench cushions, jude looking up then and there to make sure they felt comfortable. once again, his touch felt like fire, playing with your head even more.

when he finished clasping the heel, he extended his hand helping you up. "you look absolutely gorgeous y/n... this dress was made for you," jude croaked, hearing you laugh shakily. "thank you jude. likewise," jude smiled at your reaction, "i mean as in you look super handsome with the suit, not a dress!" you explained.

"i think i got what you meant..." he joked, his eyes roaming uo and down again at you. "good. good. shall we head out?" you swallowed heavily, grabbing your purse, phone, and other stuff you needed for the night. you were in a rush, wanting to get some fresh air or you would explode in the room with jude inside. "lead the way y/n."

jude helped you in an out of the cab, his hand on your bare back as he guided you to the double doors leading into the reception. "how are you feeling? any nerves?" you spoke quietly to him, looking around as people were taking their seats or had their own conversations.

"some but not too many. like you said, it's just for today," he whispered along your ear, gently giving your shoulder a kiss as his hands went to your hips and walked you forward. your mom and aunt gasped, grabbing their dresses and walking towards you, almost sprinting. "here goes nothing," you say.

"oh my god! so you are real!" your mom yelped, making you give her a glare and eyes pleading not to make a scene. "i was starting to think my sweet y/n was lying to me about this boyfriend she had," you almost choked on your saliva, clearing your throat at her words. "i am y/n's mom, what is your name?"

"i'm jude. it's a pleasure to finally meet you ma'am," jude shook her hand and leaned down to kiss her cheeks in a greeting manner, the same with your aunt. jude's hand interlocked with yours, the happiness in your mother's eyes never leaving, almost tearing up at the sight of you with your "boyfriend."

"i can't believe it! it's a miracle, my daughter finally has her first boyfriend," she clapped her hands making you wretched at her choice of wording. you did everything to have her at least praise you once in life, and all it took was to have a boyfriend? you brushed away the glum feeling, jude kissing your hand, distracting you from the small burn in your eyes.

"oh my! look at them! they make such a beautiful pair," your aunt gleamed. "we do, don't we?" jude teased them, "took her a while to say yes to me, but i'm very fortunate to be here," jude resumed. "we're very pleased to have you here, anything you need don't hesitate to ask."

after saying hello to other family friends and cousins, you sat for the ceremony. jude wiped a small tear away after your old school friend finished her vows, slapping his shoulder when he made a small joke about your mascara running. "its not funny! the vows were so beautiful," you said.

"it's like we are watching me before you again," he said making you gasp. "jude what are talking about? you literally cried with me?" you recalled laughing, jude looking around scared if someone was hearing you. "please don't remind me... in my defense, i didn't see that ending at all."

after the ceremony, you and jude greeted other families, and most importantly congratulated the bride and groom. their faces ushered with happiness, overall content with how their day was turning out. you had to excuse yourself from jude at one point, your mom dragging you away for your help. jude was left behind with your dad.

"since she was little, she always hated getting thrown or dragged around," your father spoke, taking a sip of his whiskey. "seems like nothing had changed?" jude asked carefully with a playful smile. "oh not even close! it's my wife doing," he winked.

"jude right?"

"yes sir," jude nodded, presenting the dad talk coming up. "I'm gonna save the unnecessary talk and get straight to the point. it's so weird to see my baby girl all grown up, with the lusting and loving eyes she gives you. you love her very much and i can see that which is why i'm not worried about you hurting or losing her trust."

hell if jude didn't feel guilty before, he did now. he gripped the glass harder, nodding to your dad who looked upset. "she may have told you some stuff about us, but at the end of the day, she's my daughter and i love her the way she is... please just take good care of her for me... she been through enough as it is..."

"i only have good intentions and i promise you i won't ever break her heart," jude promised to your dad, but also himself. he would never be able to forgive himself if he ever did break your heart or make you lose the trust you had. max did it once and jude would never do it. even if it meant keeping away these long feelings for you.

when you returned you saw them laughing and chatting away, your heart full of emotions at them getting along. jude was so mature for his age, and it didn't come to a surprise when he got along with your dad so fast. his hand would naturally lay on your back or on your hip.

the next few hours were filled with more people dancing or chatting away. jude insisting you sat on his lap for a picture when the photographer passed, smiling wide, looking like a happy couple. it seemed so natural to you, being this close and intimate you were getting scared at how fast everything was being thrown at you.

"i had to see it for myself! y/n bagging a footballer? never saw that coming," your cousin approached you giving you a high as he dabbed up jude. "jude meet my cousin adrian, he's a huge fan of you, and just successfully signed with a small club," you introduced them to each other, with a huge grin on your face.

jude’s hand snuck around your waist, his thumb drawing shapes as his full attention was with your cousin who spoke about sports. you listened then and there, but your feet began to ache, switching your weight back and forth uncomfortably.

jude was quick to notice, leaving down to your level and asking if you were okay. “i’m fine i promise, these shoes are killing me that’s all,” you reassured with a smile, jude nodding before cutting the conversation after a few minutes. “i’m going to get her a chair and drinks for us,” you froze when he kissed your temple, “i’ll see you around later,” jude said his goodbyes dragging you along slowly.

like before, your chest beat faster, if he stared, smiled, even touched or got near you, you’d get nervous immediately. the familiar string of falling for someone filling the empty space left behind inside you. he was super good at pretending and it didn’t feel like that anymore.

it felt real. was he just pretending? or was he actually taking this fake relationship seriously and real?

all you could do was stare at his face, mostly his gorgeous brown eyes as he helped you get seated and served you some water, making sure you were fully okay. he sat next to you, his hand interlocking with his, and placing it on his lap as he paid attention to his surroundings. you become quiet, so into your head and questioning his every move now.

“jude?” you spoke softly, a confused smile on your face as he immediately turned to you with a soften gaze. you inhaled a breath, unable to look away from him, his ínstese state causing you to feel intimidated. “is everything okay?” he asked, leaning slightly over to you, pushing a small string of hair back. “is it supposed to feel like this?”

“what is?” jude shook his head not understanding.

“us? why am i getting the idea we’re no longer pretending…”

jude tore his gaze from yours, the panic growing more intense when he wouldn't reply back. "jude please... don't push me away. are we just pretending or has something changed?" you persisted, your hand gliding against his back to get his attention. jude debated, afraid of losing you right here and now, or having the possibility to maybe hear you feel the same way.

"come with me," jude demanded, helping your and dragging you to the dance floor where no one could really see you besides the other happy couples. his hands circled your waist, as yours went to his shoulders, unable to look away from him. "tell me i'm not the only one who feels it..."

"tell me what you feel y/n... what your head is begging to scream out..."

"i can't, i don't know jude. i'm afraid yet so confused? since we got here yesterday things feel different between us. it happened again when we had breakfast, when you put my necklace on, my heels! all of this is giving me mixed signals jude... i haven't felt this in so long.." you confess, a shaky breath escaping your lips when he pulls you closer and kisses your head.

"like now. i can't if you just did that out of pretending or because it came naturally to you. i've never had to worry about what you think till recently... it feels strange... yet ican't help but get hope that it means real," you rest your forehead on his shoulder blinking away the tears that slowly begin to let out.

jude could see how this was affecting you, holding your lower body with one hand and the other smoothing down your spine, feeling how you immediately let loose and relaxed by his praise and touch. jude could also feel the heavy weight beginning to feel heavier if he kept his true hidden feelings away. it was a sign, and there was no going back.

jude's hand cradled your chin, forcing you to look up at his, his brown eyes gazing over your teary face. he was truly amazed and so in love with you it made his head feel cloudy, almost dizzy, at how perfect and pure you were. his tummy fluttering at his gorgeous girl who was confused at how she felt... but in this moment jude knew you were in deep as well.

"tell me something, when you see me, does it make your heart race, like i'm the only person standing there?" you nod, "does your head tell you one thing but your gut tells you another when you see me?" you nod again, this time blowing the air out of jude's lungs. "my head tells me i shouldn't, but my gut tells me i waited so long that maybe it's now to late for us..."

"why would it be too late y/n...?" you shrug your shoulders. "because i don't you feel the same way i'm feeling." jude smiled weakly, his thumb brushing along your jaw, hearing your hum in delight, "how can you know when you haven't asked me?"

your eyes search his for any sign but you don't find any, "what are you feel in this moment jude?"

"that i'm the luckiest man to be here with you tonight," he says proudly, "that i don't think we've wasted any time, rather i feel we're barely getting started on this new branch of our lives... i can't pretend when i'm with you... because pretending to hide how i feel has been so hard, when all i want is you. all of you y/n..."

"i had to see you go through that idiot max, how he hurt you? when you were hurt i was even more devastated because i couldn't protect you. i'd do anything to make you happy or laugh because it's what i want to do. i want to be the only one who gets to do that. i promised your dad but myself also, ask me what the promise is..." jude insisted.

"what's your promise jude?"

"that i'd never break your heart or give you a reason to doubt me. that from this day forward, i completely will give you my all to care and relish our love once and for all. i'm tired of waiting and holding back of what should've existed and started when i first met you."

"jude-"

"i want to give you my all, to be devoted and in love with you forever. you have no idea what you make me feel, think! i wake up longing for you, at work, at my own home. you're the only girl i want and need in my life y/n," jude confessed, the weight finally lifted of his shoulders, now being able to feel like a free man.

you closed your eyes, breathing out a happy chuckle in relief. you sniffled, "you've ruined me jude, completely ruined me with your words, your confession! look at me, i'm worse than when we finished watching the vow!" you joked, hand nestling on the nape of his next, stroking his soft skin.

"you love me jude?"

"more than what you think."

"i need you to know i'm giving you my all as well. I've always sensed how different what we had was, and come to find out, i was just scared and felt the need to push away because you didn't feel the same way. what i feel for you never happened with who shall not be named..." jude chuckles, closing his eyes and swallowing a heavy gulp like you.

"i'm so hopelessly in love with you jude bellingham... so in love, i want to grow old with you, make every promise we said out loud come true. i knew i loved you as soon as we laid eyes, and you stumbled over your words," jude squinted his eyes, shaking his head embarrassed. "kiss me jude."

jude kissed you exactly how he dreamed. your lips soft and sweet as he imagined, even better. cradling your chin to tilt and pulling the kiss deeper. it felt so right, so amazing, so passionate. he was lost, his tongue entering your parted lips when you let out a small gasp and whimper. there was no more pretending, this was more real than ever.

"could get lost in how you taste. how you feel. i love you so much angel."

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— BOULEVARD OF BROKEN DREAMS

SUMMARY : sharing a room with sam when dean has the sex drive that he has usually means he has to be quiet when he’s doing the dirty with his girl.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : sam winchester

WARNINGS : smut, nsfw (18+), fluff, alcohol, sub!dean, exhibitionism tbh, ✨saliva✨

WORD COUNT : 2.9k

A/N : title from green day’s song. I believe in subby dean and I love him! so, here’s the first dean fic I wanna share. I really appreciate y’all :’) Xx

Dean grunted softly as he moved his hand up and down his cock. He smirked beside him at his sleeping girlfriend, and then looked ahead at the silhouette of his hand beneath the sheets moving up and down, outlined by the street light shining through the thin curtains. The sound of the sheets ruffling was loud in the nighttime, almost muffling the sound of his cock, and he carefully shoved the sheets off himself while keeping Y/N blanketed.

He closed his eyes, bit his lip and started to picture Y/N sucking his dick. He pictured her awake comfortably naked between his legs with her hot mouth wrapped around him. It was more exciting knowing that she was sleeping next to him, that he was imagining her pleasuring him the way he knew she could if she were awake. He was so turned on, but he was mostly teasing himself, being quiet enough that Sam wouldn’t wake up, but loud enough so that Y/N would.

Sam had gotten drunk with Dean, but unlike Dean, he blacked out as soon as his overgrown body hit the bed. That meant nothing was waking Sam up anytime soon, not a monster, not an apocalypse, not even the way Dean panted trying to get himself off. He didn’t mind edging himself a bit longer, he was willing to wait as long as he had to before she woke up and gave him what he needed. And he needed her real bad, so he wasn’t gonna stop, but he wasn’t gonna let himself finish either.

After the hunt, a successful case of killing a pack of werewolves in the woods, Dean decided to take Y/N and Sam out for drinks. The thing was, when Dean got drunk, he became more clingy than usual and he would start acting cute. He remembered bits and pieces of what he did when he was drunk. From getting her into his lap while he talked to Sam and some random hunter in a green, leathery booth. To the way he clung to her the whole time, when he’d drunkenly gone and played pool with a bunch of idiot college students trying and successfully hustling them.

He remembered constantly kissing her cheek, holding her soft face in his hands to make out with her when he dragged her around the bar finding different things to do with himself. And he remembered flirting with her. He remembered that cute little smile on her face and the even more adorable blush that painted her cheeks when he gave her his famous smoulder.

He remembered that she’d stopped drinking after just one drink. She was taking care of him and Sam. She’d driven them back to the motel and she babied him into bed despite the fact that he was trying to seduce her. He blushed at the memory, the way he kissed her neck and groped her beautiful body, making it hard for her to take his clothes off so he could sleep comfortably.

He moaned softly at a particular twist around his cock, and he changed his fantasy, preferring to imagine all the dirty things Y/N would say to him as she fucked him. He could faintly remember how her walls felt around him, her sweaty body pressed against his, setting his skin on fire with her touch. Her name fell from his lips, spilled into the quiet room, and she shifted beside him at last. He whispered her name again and again, praying that she would wake up and make him cum herself.

He slowed the pace in which he jerked himself off when she nuzzled into his bicep, her soft lips still against his tense muscle. She mumbled something against his skin, but could only hear the sleep in her voice and was unable to decipher a word she said. He gazed down at her and squinted his eyes to make out her face, but he couldn’t see much as she was shadowed by his body. He only felt her hand move down his chest, warm and soft against his body. He gasped, squirmed when she brushed her fingertips against his tummy, and squeezed his eyes shut when she wrapped her small hand over his.

“You’re so loud,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

“Y/N,” he moaned, letting her fingers replace his. She stroked him lazily, felt her little smirk against his arm when he moved his hips up in search of more friction. “Please,” he whined quietly. He turned his whole body to face her so she changed her hand’s position, squeezing his cock torturously and rubbing her thumb over the leaking slit of his cockhead. “I can’t,” he gasped, pressing his forehead against hers.

She let go of his cock and pressed her lips firmly against his, “I’ve got you, baby,” she murmured against his mouth. His fingers dug into her waist, pulling her closer to him. “What do you want? Tell me, Dean,” she teased, moving her lips along his jaw and neck, thrilled to hear his heavy breaths.

“You,” he whispered, “I need you, need to be inside you right now,” he moaned. He pawed at her hips and started to tug her underwear down impatiently. She giggled, helped him get them off her, and laughed when he hung them over the lamp. He smiled softly at the sound and moved on top of her, settling between her opened legs before he leaned down to kiss her.

He slid his cock through her wet folds, felt her wiggle her hips, and gasp against his mouth when he pressed the head of his cock against her clit. “I thought you were too needy,” she whined playfully. He felt her pout against his lips and pulled away slightly attempting to make her face out in the darkness, only the yellow glow from outside illuminated her. He chuckled at her and grasped her hip, pinning her down to the mattress as he panted against her parted lips.

“You’re such a little tease,” he laughed softly, smirking at her when he sat back on his legs, lifting her legs onto his thighs.

He used the streetlight to guide his cock to her slick entrance, his plump lips parting with satisfaction at the sight of her glistening cunt stretching around his cockhead. He slid into her smoothly and he stared—utterly enchanted, as she took every inch of him until he was buried fully in her warmth.

“Like that?” He asked smugly and she rolled her eyes, her hands flexing on her thighs, squirming from how big he was. Dean smirked down at her when he noticed, swivelling his hips tortuously just to feel the clench of her walls around him. He collected saliva in his mouth and watched it drip down to her pussy, right on her folds.

He licked his lips to clear the lingering spit on his swollen lips and brought his thumb to her clit to smear his saliva over the sensitive nerve. He gently moved his hips against her, turned on at the sight of the black shirt she wore haphazardly scrunched around her waist from the angle he had her positioned in.

He leaned over her, placed his arm by her head, and dropped loving kisses along her jaw. Her heavy breaths mingled with his, the only sound bouncing off the cheap walls besides the gentle sound of the bedsprings. He used various methods to massage her clit until she was squirming beneath him again. Her walls continued to pulse around him, wet, warm, and driving him crazy. “I’m not gonna last,” he whispered shyly against her shoulder.

She pushed up against him gently with her hips, her hands held onto his triceps, so he moved back a little to check on her. “Everything okay?” He asked softly, distractedly slowing down the circles on her clit to study her flushed face.

When she nodded, he kissed her forehead, and started to pull out slightly to thrust back into her again, but he didn’t expect her to shove him back slightly, forcing his cock to slip out of her all the way.

He looked at her with confusion, “wha-“

He caught himself with his arms behind him, stared at her as his shirt she wore slipped down and covered her naked body again. She climbed onto his lap again, “you’re so pretty,” she murmured. Holding his chin with her fingers, she swiped her thumb across his bottom lip and his breath hitched. His cheeks started to warm up at the tingling that followed her finger along his lip and he whined again. “Shh, stop being so loud,” she told him quietly, and leaned forward to silence him with a heated kiss.

He slid his hands between her legs, shoving two fingers into her without a care, pumping them in and out, moaning into her mouth at the squelch his fingers and her cunt made around him. She sucked on his bottom lip and he groaned, grinding his palm against her clit and adding a third finger, feeling like he could cum just from the wetness that started to cover his knuckles and wrist.

“I love it when you get needy,” she panted, moving his hand away by grabbing his wrist. She lifted his wet fingers to her lips and licked her arousal off them, keeping her eyes on his as his lips parted in surprise. “Are you gonna cum?” She teased, placing his hands on her hips under the shirt she wore.

“Stop teasing me,” he whispered, swallowing some saliva to moisten his dry throat. She laughed quietly and he bit his lip, becoming flustered with her confidence. “Please,” he begged softly, lowering her hips to press against his so her wet pussy could brush against his throbbing cock.

She let out a faint hum, letting him fuck himself with both amusement and fascination. He closed his eyes despite wanting to feel demeaned by the look on her face and got lost in the tiny fragments of pleasure he was feeling. He pressed his forehead against her shoulder, focusing on teasing her soaked entrance with the soft head of his cock until she gave in and shifted to let him slip inside her.

“Fuck… yes,” he moaned, gripping her hips tightly as her warmth and her slick coated his cock. She ground her hips against his, squeezing his cock until he whined and bucked his hips up into her. “Fuck, don’t do that,” he hissed.

She chuckled mischievously, then shushed him as she slowly rolled her hips against his, his mouth parting. A broken moan left his lips, but it was immediately muffled by him when he bit her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist. He thrusted his hips upwards, slowly moving in and out of her until she was pushing him onto his back and riding him.

He screwed his eyes shut, biting his lip so hard he thought he’d taste his blood soon. His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips, bruising her soft skin with his desperate touch. His eyes fluttered open to watch her lift herself up and down with her lips parted and swollen. He felt like cumming just at the sight of her and she must have expected a loud moan to fall from his now open mouth because she put her hand over it just as a groan rumbled in his chest, deep and hot.

Her walls spasmed around him, a quiet curse falling from her lips. She looked over at Sam cautiously, picking up the pace and keeping her hand over his mouth. He felt even more turned on, noting the way she shifted her hips to add friction to her clit. He whined against her hand, desperately meeting her thrusts as the bed springs started to squeak louder.

He didn’t even care if Sam woke up anymore, he tugged her hips forward, wanting her full attention on him. He felt his cock swell and twitch inside her, so close to spilling hot inside her. She was driving him crazy, especially with the way her walls squeezed his cock so tight as if it would shut her up.

It drove him over the edge and he came inside her almost involuntarily. Another moan from him heated her palm. She gasped from the unexpectedness of it, leaning over him, her soft hair tickling his skin. She moaned loudly into the bed, pressed her face into the sheets by his head as she trembled and came on his cock. Her warm walls quivered and dripped around him, her hips moving on his cock slower as she rode out her orgasm, his sweaty skin sticking to hers.

She turned her face slightly, her warm breath tickling his ear. He lifted his hand up to move her hair behind her ear and she removed her hand from his mouth, resting it over his thumping heart. They both laid there for a few moments, unmoving, panting in an attempt to catch their breaths and clear their hazy minds. He lovingly pressed kisses along her cheek, temple, and the tip of her ear, rubbing his hand up and down her sides under her shirt.

“That was so hot,” he said after a while, sounding breathless and hoarse. She laughed tiredly and she started to lift the top of her body off him, only to lean forward and kiss him deeply. He was smiling, his mouth readily open for her. His tongue slipped into her minty mouth, soft tongues rolling over each other languidly.

Both of them smiled into the kiss and he wrapped his arm around her waist, moving her onto her back and slipping out of her, careless about the mess he was making between their bodies. She hummed softly against his mouth, a little laugh making her part from his lips. He continued to admire her, fixing her sex hair as best as he could before he dropped a kiss on her forehead, trailing his lips down to her warm cheeks and neck.

“We have a long drive tomorrow, D,” she murmured, her nails gently scratching his scalp, “you should sleep now, I’ll take care of the mess.” He moaned quietly, agreeing with her, pressing his face into her neck and kissed the spot his lips were closest to.

“Mkay,” he mumbled, moving up off her. He looked around for his boxers and felt the bed shift as she made her way to the restroom to clean herself up. He grabbed her underwear off the lamp and grabbed his phone, using the lowest light level to check if they’d stained the sheets.

Despite having told him she’d take care of it, he didn’t listen. He shoved the clean sheets away, feeling both shy and prideful at the mess, and pulled the dirty covers off to hide them as best as he could and replaced them as quickly as he could with clean ones he always made sure to ask for beforehand when they got a room.

He moved out of bed when he was done, waddling to the bathroom with her underwear in his hand. He smiled fondly when he found her washing her hands with the water hardly turned on so it wouldn’t be loud and wake Sam up.

“Your underthings,” he said with a grin, holding them up for her. She turned to look at him and chuckled, drying her hands with a towel to take her underwear from him. “Allow me, my love,” he said dramatically, stopping her from taking them. She gave him a look but played along.

He squatted down in front of her and lifted her leg with his hand around her ankle. She held onto his shoulder for balance, allowing him to help her into her underwear with an amused and affectionate smile on her face that glowed in her eyes.

“Thanks, Dean,” she murmured. She pecked his lips when he stood back up to her face, after having pulled the soft cotton up her legs and comfortably in place around her hips. He squeezed her ass playfully, drawing a laugh from her.

She followed him with her eyes when he moved towards the sink to wash his hands with soap and warm water. She waited for him patiently, leaning against the doorway and playing with the hem of the black t-shirt. She admired him this time, took in the messy and soft spikes of his hair, his teeth pulling at his plump lip. He was gorgeous and he looked over at her, his eyes warm and loving as he took her in too.

“Let’s go to bed, my little flower.” Dean dried his hands with the same towel she used and reached out for her hand, seeing her roll her eyes and snort at the new pet-name he was trying out for her. “You know you like all the names I give you,” he smirked down at her, turning the lights off after her to make their way back to bed.

“I do,” she admitted after a while, biting her lip to stop her happy smile. He could see her thanks to the bright lights outside and the drawn curtains. A delightful feeling filled his stomach and made him feel warm all over. He took her face in his hands, giving her the type of kiss people would give each other if they were saying hello after missing each other their whole lives.

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[madamechrissy]

Fractured Desires

ꕥ Pairings: Suguru Geto x Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader (Mostly sato-reader, It's a mess tbh lol)

ꕥ Warnings-MDNI-Toru is TOXIC, this story is toxic lol, explicit sexual content, and yandere Gojo behavior. In this chapter- cunnilingus, blow jobs, Eifel tower, explicit sex, threesome, being shady lol (There is some physical description of the readers height/body, don't read if too unimmersive for you)

ꕥ Word Count this chap- 7.5k

ꕥ Summary- You meet Suguru Geto at your work, he is charming, gorgeous, and has a poly lifestyle. You jump in, and you all share women and have way too much fun. But then it's starting to get serious between you, official even. He can't wait to have you meet his best friend. But... Satoru Gojo hates you. The minute you meet. He gives you no reason, but he's nasty to you, no matter what you try. Suguru finally has enough of Satoru being so mean and brings up the idea - 'let's have you two fuck this frustration out'

Satoru hates you because deep down wants to make you his. He doesn't understand how Suguru could ever want anyone but you. Though it's a bad idea, he agrees to share you with Suguru for a chance at you and... The moment he touches you...Rules are bent and broken, Suguru develops feelings for another girl, and Satoru gets further obsessed with you, while you're left confused... will everyone get hurt? Geto is a HOE in this story, Satoru is a TOXIC ASS. (Reader just here for the ride and emotional damage)

Chapter 1 - Masterlist

Chapter 2

Your POV

Gojo’s huge hands are on your breasts, as Suguru is sliding your skirt up your hips, and you’re already dripping down your panties. “Slide these off her, would you, Satoru?”

Suguru’s gruff command is obeyed, as Satoru Gojo bends down, looking up at you with those vivid, insane blue eyes, that catch yours and make your breath hitch, and he slides his fingers up your skirt, pulling your panties down slowly. They slide down past your ass, then your thighs, until they’re at your ankles, and you errantly realize you’re still in your little heels.

Satoru slides your panties off, then starts to take your heels off, his hands trailing up your calves as he does so, and you sink down your bare feet onto Suguru’s hardwood floor, even shorter now with the two men over six foot tall. Suguru takes your hand, kissing your knuckles and smiling down at you seductively.

“You want this, Princess?” He asks softly, he always made sure you were okay. But were you? When Satoru looked up at you like that. Those eyes full of a mix of hate and pure lust.

“Um… yes. I want this, Sugu.” You murmur, and you see Satoru’s face change a bit, his lips relaxing, they were so tense before.

“Let’s see how much you do.” He slides your skirt up as Satoru is sliding up to stand, and he groans audibly when he sees your slick little pussy. “Feel her again, Satoru.”

He says nothing, he just looks at Suguru, then you, sliding his hand down your slit, which was soaked, embarrassingly slow. He smirks then, asshole Satoru is clearly still here. “That wet from nothing, huh?”

“Fuck you, Gojo.” You grumble, and then you gasp as he finds your clit from between your puffy lips, and you’re whimpering, as he’s leaning down over you.

“She’s soaked, Sugu.” Satoru murmurs, and Suguru moans against your neck, sliding his hand down to your entrance, which drips down his thick fingertip.

“Hold her leg up, would you?” Satoru grabs your thigh, wrapping it around his hips, still fully clothed, and Suguru turns your face to him as he sinks a long finger in your entrance, and you whine out. “You are soaked, fuck. You like this, Princess, us touching you together?”

“Mnh… yes. Yes.” You manage to cry out a word or two as Satoru’s rubbing little circles on your clit now, and Suguru’s kissing you, firm lips taking yours over. You’re crying out into them as they both work you, hands holding you up as their fingers play your wet little pussy. 

“Feel how tight she is.” Suguru eases his hand around to toy with your clit, and Satoru bends down just a bit, sliding an even longer, thicker finger in you, and you cry out loudly as you throb around the entrance.

“Fuck, she’s stupid tiny.” Gojo whispers, and you’re crying out into Suguru’s mouth again, as Satoru’s mouth captures your nipple, as his teeth graze the sensitive peak, and you’re soaking both of their fingers now. “Holy fuck…”

His tone, his words, urge you on so much you can’t remember how awful he is, how mean he fucking is, not when you’re arching into the bite. You moan, facing Satoru again, your hand enwrapping in his silky white hair, and Suguru’s hands tighten on you, his teeth scraping down your neck, making you even more sensitive.

“No wonder you’re always in a good mood, you asshole.” Satoru grumbles, and even you giggle at that, as Satoru's full lips descend onto yours, as their fingers both work you together.

“See, just had to not be a dick.” 

They’re both working you now, their fingers circling your clit, sliding in and out of you, making you wetter and wetter. Your legs are trembling, your whole body taut with need, and all you can do is kiss Satoru back and lean against Suguru’s hard body.

Kissing Satoru!?

You want him, fuck you want him, and you hate that you want him. And when Suguru’s voice whispers, “I want to see you come for us, baby,” it’s like a trigger, you’re falling apart between the two perfect men playing you.

You can’t hold back anymore. You moan into Satoru’s mouth as your orgasm crashes over you, your pussy pulsing around their fingers, gushing so much wetness you can fucking hear it, lewd in the quiet house. Satoru leans back to watch you intently, his usually bright eyes dark with lust and something else, something you don’t dare name, as you grip his shirt tightly, as pleasure spirals.

“Mnh, fuck fuck fuck!” You’re a mess, twitching, as they don’t stop working on your little soppy cunt, until Suguru pulls his hands up, sliding his fingers into your mouth, you greedily suck yourself off them, and Satoru’s shoving two fingers in your cunt now, stretching you beyond your means. “Ngh!”

You’re moaning around Suguru’s fingers, fucking drooling, as he fucks you with them, and Suguru has left his spot, and you can’t stand, to the point your knees give out from under you. Satoru snatches you up around the hips, continuing to fuck you with those stupidly long fingers, just watching you, greedy, fucking hungry, and you’re cumming in his arms.

In Satoru Gojo's big damn arms, with his huge fingers in you.

Satoru Gojo, huh?

He’s kissing down your neck as you’re a mess, can't form a fucking thought from fingers huh? Soon he finally eases out, as Suguru takes your hand, limp and pathetic. “Let’s go to the bed, Princess.”

You look up into those seductive eyes, nodding weakly. “Y-yeah.”

“Look at you, so beautiful. Never seen you like this.” Suguru murmurs, caressing your cheek as Satoru leans off you. “Are you really that into women? Or is Satoru prettier than any woman?”

Gojo snorts at that, and for a moment you can breathe, as the mood has lifted for like two seconds. You flush. “He is pretty.”

“See, look at you two, getting along. Come on.”

He’s dragging you to the bed, and slides off your skirt. You nervously cover yourself a bit with your arms, as your hips are wider than you imagine Satoru had seen in your little skirts or dresses, and you have a little hint of a tummy after those beers tonight, and you think, Satoru would hate it. He has models, right? 

Suguru is different, you know he loves your body, you know he likes all kinds of women too. Of course people compliment you, you work at a bar and are very pretty, and have a ‘nice body’ you hear, you do take care of yourself and have soft curves, but something about Satoru looking at it makes you so insecure you can’t even think, he must want…

“Why are you covering up, brat?” Satoru asks then, and you can’t even look at him, as Suguru comes to rub your arms up and down, eyes drinking you in.

“You know you’re gorgeous, right?” You exhale, nodding, and he’s massaging your little wrists. “He’ll love your body, who wouldn’t? Perfect curves. Tiny little waist.” Suguru’s rubbing your every curve, trying to ease you then.

“I’m sorry… I…” You gulp, looking away.

Satoru’s POV

How could you attempt to hide your perfect fucking body with those slender little arms right now? How could you not know you’re his dream, that he’s seen that little waist, seen those tantalizing hips that jut out, just begging for him to grip them. God did you really not know how hard you have him, how badly he wants to kiss every inch of you?

“Are you uncomfy?” Suguru asks, and you shake your head.

“Um… just… don’t wanna disappoint or anything.” Your voice and your words smash against him, and he hates himself then. Had he really made you so scared to show yourself?

“How could you, look at you.” Suguru’s words seem to hit home, and you nervously let your arms down to your side, looking to Satoru then, and he clenches his fists, struggling to control himself.

God you’re beautiful.

You’re perfect. And you’re worried?

“I just know you’re used to like… um really skinny girls. Which are beautiful of course! But I am not built so thin.” Satoru laughs, without humor then, walking up to you, and you tilt your head back to look up at him.

“You’re tiny, what are you bitching about right now?” Satoru asks, because you are small, you’re perfect though, your curves are so supple and lush, he’s never even seen anyone like you.

“I’m short, too.” Yeah, he'd called you short as an insult numerous times. And you are short but he could throw you the fuck around, couldn't he?

“Yeah, all girls are compared to me. I’m six four.”

“Um… yeah but…”

“Can we shut her up?” Satoru asks Suguru then, who’s still staring at you carefully, smiling softly as he caresses the curves Satoru aches to grab. You have the body that anyone would fiend over and you’re insecure. It doesn’t compute. He would spend every moment kissing every inch of you.

“You know how gorgeous you are, don’t be shy because he’s here.” Satoru feels that like a punch to the stomach. “You don’t get like this with any of the girls.”

“That's different. He’s used to a certain type, Sugu.” You whisper, but Satoru hears you, and he sees the hurt in your eyes, as his comment from yesterday cleary still eats at you, and fuck he hates himself.

“You have a gorgeous body.” Satoru says softly, bringing you and Suguru’s attention to him. “But don’t do this if you don’t want it.”

“I do! I do.” You say it so quickly it surprises him, and he sighs, as he’s rock hard, precumming from just looking at you as you walk to him, hips swaying side to side and making it even worse. “I just know I'm not your type…”

You are the type.

“Your body is very, very fucking nice.” You smile a bit then, emotion in your glittering eyes. “Surely I’m not the only one who says that. I see you get hit on wherever you go.”

“Thank you for that… but I know you said-”

“I was full of shit. Okay?” You exhale, and you watch Suguru study both of you seriously then.

“Let’s have Satoru make it up to you, baby.” He says, and you blush down to your lush breasts.

“M-make it up to me?” Your voice gets soft, breaking a bit, and Suguru is grinning now, sitting you down on the bed and spreading your thighs, you fall back on your elbows, as he looks back at Satoru.

“You can make it up to her, right Satoru? For being a royal dick.” Satoru sighs, and then when Suguru steps aside, and he sees you? Sees that perfect little pussy he’d only glanced at earlier?

Satoru barely hangs on by a thread, as you bite your lower lip and he lowers himself to his knees in front of you. Suguru is on the bed next to you, stroking your hair, kissing your head, his other hand holding your thigh. Satoru’s hands come to your thighs as he looks closer, at the perfect little cunt in front of him, puffy and glistening, just waiting for his tongue.

His eyes lock on yours, and he sees it, the hesitation, but the insane desire blowing out your pupils. His big hands grip your plush thighs, pulling you even closer to the edge of the bed, and he inhales you, that scent, the one that makes his mouth water. He’s exhaling against your cunt, and watches you jerk from just that, as he spreads your lips and sees how pretty you are.

“Your pussy? Perfect.” He says huskily, and you’re blushing again, looking so fucking pretty. Suguru is laughing softly.

“See, baby?” You nod, and one of your little hands comes to brush back his hair, and Satoru loses it at just that, at you arching your hips up, clearly so ready for him, wetter than he’d even seen a woman, and he’d seen so many. “Do you want him to make it up to you, being a dick?”

Satoru can’t even chuckle at his friend, he’s staring at your pretty cunt to desperately, imagining tasting it finally, he has to rub his cock over his trousers as it’s painfully pressing against them, straining the fabric. You look at Suguru, then back to Satoru, and let out a little whimper, and fuck if you whimper like that from his breath, from his fingers on your thighs?

How do you sound when he drinks you?

“Y-yes… if you want to, Gojo.” You say then, still so fucking sweet, and fuck it makes Satoru hate you more. He hates that you won’t call him his first name, but the one time you’d tried, he’d told you never to. And you just crumbled.

“Satoru.” He says then, and your eyes widen, lips opening then closing. “At least when I’m about to lick this perfect little pussy, huh?”

Your POV

His words make you melt holy fuck, you can’t even function, you barely manage to lick your lips, clearing your throat. He makes you feel sexier than you ever had, with just that hungry gaze, as Suguru had always tried to do, but something about the thirst in Satoru’s gaze really…

Fuck.

“Satoru.” You say softly, and he moans then, before diving between your thighs, and you cry out when he first slides his tongue up your slit, dragging the flat of it up your entrance until his tip hits your little clit with a flick. “Satoru!”

He moans on your cunt, and Suguru is watching you with an amused smirk, playing with your breasts, kissing you then. “You like that, Princess?”

You nod eagerly, as Satoru works you expertly, devouring you in fact, lavishing every inch of your cunt with his talented tongue. One of your hands is in Satoru’s hair, gripping it tight, and the other is in Suguru’s long locks, as your lips messily play. Suguru groans then, leaning back to watch Satoru working you, then back to your face, desire stark in his eyes.

“Ngh, fuck!” Satoru’s got your pussy wide open, sinking his tongue in your entrance, and you’re pulsing around it, as his nose bumps your clit, and you’re already close to cumming on him. “C-cumming!”

He peeks up at you with those perfect eyelashes, with those beautiful eyes, as Suguru is toying with your nipples and watching you unravel. “So easy, huh?” Satoru teases, smirking, and you see your arousal clear on his chin.

“F-fuck… you’re a demon.” You scowl, and then the two of them laugh, and Satoru’s breath is hot on your exposed little clit.

“And you taste so good. I see why Sugu can’t stop.” He winks, and you see it then, how fucking charming Satoru Gojo could be, when not furious at you. It takes grip of your heart.

“Cum on his pretty face, huh, Princess? Make him so messy.” Suguru urges you, and Satoru and you both groan, as he dives back down.

You grip Satoru’s snowy white hair, trying to anchor yourself as the pleasure spirals out of control. He’s so good at this, his tongue flicking and curling around your sensitive nub, his teeth scraping just enough to make you gasp. You can feel his hot breath on your wet folds, and it’s all too much.

“That’s it, I see it, let go.” Suguru knows you so well, and you do then, you fall apart as Satoru’s tongue drinks you up, his fingers digging hard into your plush thighs, so hard he’ll bruise you. Your core tightens and it all releases, as stars burst behind your eyes and you’re screaming.

“Satoru!” He groans against you, lapping all of your wetness up, literally fucking drinking you, and then Suguru’s slid down, shoving Satoru with his shoulder, and you giggle down at the two of them as the aftershocks rock you.

“My turn.” Suguru says, and Satoru scowls at him now.

“No, not done. One measly orgasm?”

“Mmmhm, go kiss her.”

“No, I’ll stay.” You can’t stop the soft giggle as you look down at the two gorgeous men between your thighs, fighting over you. You stroke Satoru’s cheek, and he looks at you wide eyed, then you stroke Suguru’s cheek, and he looks at you with that lidded gaze. You’re sitting up just a bit, and feel your core tighten again as each of their hands holds a thigh apart.

“Are you two fighting over my pussy?” You ask, and Sugu laughs, but Satoru glares at you. They’re both so different, you muse.

“It’s so yummy.” Satoru says with a pout, and Suguru chuckles, planting a sloppy kiss on your clit then, making your hips jerk, and Satoru eagerly watches your expressions, studying them almost.

“I never would expect this moment.” You murmur, as they stare at you so longingly now.

“He can eat pussy tomorrow, Shoko’s. I’ll stay here.” Suguru rolls his dark eyes then, sighing. But something about how Satoru says that?

Fuck.

“Work together, then, boys.” You finally say, and they looked at you with shocked eyes, before scowling at each other.

“No way!” They shout, but you’re rocking your hips up, and you watch their gazes so hazy, their mouths dropping open.

“Don’t wanna lick it together?”

“Nope.” They both answer together again, and finally Satoru sighs. “Oh fine, we have before, but I’m feeling selfish.”

“You’re very selfish already. Imagine when you fuck her.” Satoru’s eyes lock on yours again at that, and then you’re dripping out of your little hole, that’s screaming for them.

“Fine. Still gonna win.” Suguru snorts at that, but then you feel Satoru’s tongue lavish up your slit, to your clit, and you feel Suguru’s tongue gently teasing your entrance, and you can’t fucking take it. Your legs shake as you struggle to hold on to the sheets beneath you.

Fuck them two working on you? It feels so good.

Suguru’s mouth is joining Satoru’s now, their tongues swirling around your clit in a dance that drives you fucking insane. Your clit is twitching against the onslaught of their joined tongues, as you feel the vibration of their moans on your cunt. They’re working in tandem, and the feeling is indescribable, two mouths, two tongues, two sets of teeth, all focused on you.

Satoru’s tongue is hot and hungry, as those blue eyes stare up at you, and Suguru’s tongue flicks lazy and teasing, as his chocolate eyes look at you too. You’re falling apart at the seams as they bring you to the brink of ecstasy. You can’t think, you can’t breathe, all you can do is moan and arch your back, offering yourself up to them to feast on.

Satoru’s long finger slides into your cunt, stretching you, and Suguru’s finger follows, filling you up as they continue to suck and lick at your clit, their tongues touching, and it’s even hotter.

“Satoru! Suguru! Fucking… s’good!��� You’re whining the words, and they moan eagerly, as they each slide a finger in you, rubbing together in your little cunt, and it’s so perfect you know you’re not going to last much longer, then you’re cumming harder than you ever had, all over them, as their tongues lavish you up.

They work your body, their fingers sliding in and out of you, rubbing against each other. And then, without warning, they hit your g-spot together, and you’re cumming again, your body arching off the bed, your pussy clenching around their fingers as they pump into you, not letting up until you’re a trembling mess.

They lean up then finally, Suguru leaving a sloppy kiss on your cunt, and you can feel your orgasm still pulsing through you, your walls still fluttering around the ghosts of their touch. You look down at them, and Suguru is smirking, his face covered in you, but Satoru is so serious, letting out a breathy cry you barely hear, kissing your thigh then, and you see his hand tremble.

“Holy fuck.” You murmur, dazed, and they both chuckle then, though there’s just something different about Satoru’s look. It’s like he…

You can’t place it really.

They lean up, and you kiss Suguru, tasting yourself on his lips, before you lean down and Satoru kisses you, possessively, sweet breath hitting your lips, mingling with your sweet arousal. He bites your lower lip, and you suck in a breath, as his hand slides up your body slowly, your hips, your waist, up to cup one of your breasts.

“You’re just perfect, aren’t you?” He says, and you shake your head shyly, looking down then. Suguru’s kissing your thighs, stroking them as you come down from your high, and then Satoru’s lips are on your ear.

You tense, as you feel his breath, tickling you, as his tongue runs down the shell of your ear, before his lips touch it. “Satoru…” You barely say it, it’s just a mouthing, really, when he brushes back your hair.

“You are perfect, it’s why I hate you so fucking much.” At that you shiver, looking back at him in surprise, but Suguru’s back up now, and you melt into his fervent kisses, clinging to his broad shoulders then.

“Hey now, clothes off, let me see you both.” You say softly, and they smirk, stepping back, but Satoru’s words are killing you.

Perfect?

He fucks models. You’re a short, hot little bartender sure, but you’re not a fucking runway model, not even close. Their legs are longer than your body. How could he find you perfect? Suguru so clearly loves all sorts of women you’ve never had to worry really.

Satoru’s words…

About Sugu and Shoko. They worry you. You had seen how close they were, they’d been friends forever, but she was so amazing, and you two played, but… Satoru had said he only wanted to taste you. What even was that? Something about that insane look in his eyes, even him saying he hates you… the feelings behind it are thrilling in the oddest way.

They’re sliding off their shirts now, and you watch the muscles in their arms and abs ripple. They're both so tall, broad and well built, Suguru is a little more muscular, Satoru is a little leaner, both cut within every inch of your life, both so gorgeous you get even slicker between your thighs.

“Holy fuck…” You murmur, and they smirk at you, as they then slide off their pants, and you see them, as their cocks smack their stomachs, full on hard.

You swallow hard, taking in their naked forms, you lick your lips wantonly, your heart racing as they approach the bed, and you realize that you’re going to have both of them. Suguru’s cock is thick and long, it’s one that you had still not gotten used to taking, a light brown that stands out against his pale skin, and it’s already hard, jutting out in front of him, begging for attention.

Satoru’s is a different type of beautiful, a bit longer, a bit thinner, and it’s got a curve that makes you ache to look at. Most notably, Satoru’s pretty pink tip is leaking precum already. You watch it hungrily as it drips out of his little slit, pearly and white, and his cock twitches under your gaze. He’s clearly… as excited as you.

“Holy fuck.” You say again, and they snort then, as you sit up, looking at the two men built like gods coming to you. Satoru’s blue eyes devour your body in such a way it feels like he’s touching you already.

“Cat got your tongue?” Satoru teases, and you’re enthralled by that, so different from the Gojo you know.

“You’re both so hot.” Satoru’s cheeks flush, as Suguru smiles, coming closer and brushing your hair back, making you sigh happily, he knows that’s your favorite.

“You’re so beautiful. Isn’t she, Satoru?” You look down, but Satoru’s tilting your chin up to meet his gaze.

“She’d be beautiful on her knees, don’t you think?” His husky voice ripples like waves through you, down to your core, and you suck in a breath then.

“She sure would be. Princess, on your knees.” You eagerly comply to Suguru’s soft command, and Suguru takes a place behind you, your knees sink into the mattress from the weight. Satoru is in front of you, his full lips glossy, eyes lidded, those snowy white lashes covering half of those baby blues.

“Will you hate me even as I suck you off?” You ask, a whisper really, and he smirks then, nodding. Suguru’s rubbing his cock between your glistening folds, and you cry out then, as Satoru bends down to you, pressing his lips on your forehead, then kissing over to your ear, making you even wetter, sensitive.

“I hate how much I want you. But I’m gonna love those pretty lips around my cock, love choking you.” He’s gripping your hair so tight it hurts, as Suguru’s pressing in your little entrance now, and you can’t handle it, you can’t handle what his words are doing.

You swallow nervously, looking up at him, and that’s when you feel Satoru’s cock at your lips, the salty taste of his precum hitting your tongue, and you moan around it, taking it in. You suck Satoru’s cock, feeling it swell with every suck, every lick, every kiss you give to that pretty pink tip. Suguru’s cock is at your pussy, pushing in, and you let out a moan around Satoru’s cock.

“So perfect. Take it all, baby girl.” Suguru whispers, and you nod, feeling him fill you up, stretching you beyond your means, but you’re… “Holy fuck baby, you’re drenched. Listen.”

He pulls out and then slams into your little cunt, and you hear it, the squelching sound of your soppy little pussy taking his thick length in, and you’re crying out around Satoru’s ridiculous length. He’s got his hands in your hair as Suguru’s are firm on your hips, starting to move his hips so his cock slams your throat then. You suck in through your nose, struggling to take all of it.

The heat of Suguru’s body behind you, his cock moving in and out of your tight cunt, and Satoru’s cock in your mouth, his hands tangling in your hair, fuck it’s all so, so good, especially when Satoru’s eyes drink you in, when he caresses your cheek so gently as he fucks your throat. You suck Satoru off like your life depends on it, as Suguru’s thrusts get harder.

You can feel the delicious stretch of it, the way Suguru’s sure thrusts are making your walls clench around him. You can feel Satoru’s hand tightening in your hair, his breath hitching as you deep throat him, and then he’s pumping his cock in and out of your mouth, whimpering along with Suguru’s moans, pulling back for a moment to let you breathe.

You lick your lips, tasting his precum and saliva, as Suguru’s slowly grinding against your cervix, and you’re trembling, holding yourself up on shaky arms now. Satoru’s caressing your jawline, lips opening like he wants to say something, but his eyes flicker to Suguru, then back to you. You want his cock back in your mouth, you can’t stand looking at how sexy it is in front of you.

Satoru’s POV

God, look at you, at the drool dripping out of your mouth from the side, at the precum on your lips like gloss, at your big, gorgeous fucking eyes. Eyes looking up at him with pure desire, as you open your mouth, sticking that little pink tongue out, reaching for his cock with your little hand.

“Satoru…” You murmur, in between moans, as Suguru’s steadily fucking you, and you clearly enjoy it, your little moans and cries make it evident. As hot as it is, Satoru doesn’t wanna see him fuck you. He doesn’t wanna see anyone fuck you.

Anyone but him.

Your tight throat feels so goddamn good, your mouth, hot and wet, and now you slide the tip of your tongue on his slit of his tip, lapping up the substance hungrily, and Satoru’s hair tangles in your messy hair, pulling. You whine at it, arching your back as you take more of Suguru, whose face his scrunched up as he groans in pleasure.

“You’re s’good, Princess… so fucking tight. Take me so well.” He urges you on, while you hungrily reach for Satoru, your eyes locked on his.

Fuck he hates you.

Why do you have to look at him like that!?

You’re wrecking his fragile control, but you destroy it when you shut your lips, letting him go and looking down. “Do I- mnh- need… tips?”

Your breathy whisper makes him hate himself more than he already does, if it’s humanly possible. He wants to tell you that he’s never had anyone suck him like that, let alone has he ever tasted anyone as good as you. But, if he does, you’ll fucking destroy him, won’t you?

“You’re good…” Amazing, mind blowing. “Just relax your throat, breathe through your nose, yeah?”

You nod eagerly, licking those tantalizing lips, as your breasts are swaying with each thrust. “I’ll do better. Lemme try again.”

You’re so eager, why? Why do you want to please him so bad? Why do you have to be so heartbreakingly beautiful as you stare up at his face. Fuck, you’re getting railed by his best friend and he keeps thinking how pretty your nose is, your cheeks, your stupidly pretty eyes. What the fuck is wrong with him, when he thinks he’d like to make love to you instead of this.

Fucking ruined him.

You ruin him existing and he can’t show it, no. He nods, smirking down at you then and grabbing your cheeks and holding your delicate face. “Begging to suck me, huh?”

You should be a bitch to him. You shouldn’t beg for him, he should beg for you, for your perfect lips. But you’re all too eager. “Please, Satoru.”

Fuck.

Your POV

Satoru’s fucking your throat in earnest now, and Suguru’s big hand smacks an ass cheek as he presses in, and you’re cumming, so fucking hard, you nearly collapse. Satoru has to hold you up, as you weakly cry, choking on his length as you’re pulsing around Suguru’s thickness.

“Oh my fucking… Princess, yes. Good girl.” You’re wrecked, at his words, as you’re steadily throbbing around his cock, and Satoru’s just holding you, his head tilted back as he shuts his eyes in pleasure.

Fuck you want to please this man.

Any praise he gives you is addicting.

Are you fucked up?

Suguru eases out of you then, tapping your hip, and you shakily sit up for a moment, as he generously rubs your back, kissing down your neck. “Getting sore like that, Princess?”

“Weak kneed. Oof, thank you, Sugu.” You look back at him, and he takes your face in his hand, kissing your lips, licking Satoru’s cock off you, and he moans, pressing his hands into your back firmly, easing your muscles.

“Different position for a bit?” You nod, flushing then, and Satoru and Suguru are each kissing up your neck, rubbing up and down the sides of your body. You’re clutching both of their strong backs, as they touch you everywhere, Satoru demanding and rough, Suguru gentle and experienced.

“Wh-what position?” You murmur softly. Satoru hums then, and lays on his back, looking fucking gorgeous, tapping his lap with a smirk. You flush, and Suguru chuckles, kissing down your cheek.

“You wanna ride his cock, Princess?” You bite your lower lip, looking at Suguru then. Should you feel bad you like this so much, you wonder? But Suguru’s urging you on, playing with your clit as he speaks, and you whine out.

“Yes… yes. I want to.” Satoru’s biting his full lower lip, as his cock juts at full attention, begging for you silently.

“Then come on, show me what ya got.” He says, as a challenge but there’s not malice in his voice, no his voice breaks almost. You shakily climb up, straddling him then, nervously looking back at Suguru, who comes closer, between Satoru’s legs, playing with your little clit and making you whine.

“Show him how good you are, baby.” You look back at Satoru, straddling his hips then, and gasp when you feel him tremble beneath you, his rippling abs moving with every brush of your skin. “I’m gonna watch.”

“Just watch!?” You ask, and he smirks, nodding.

“How many times do you just watch me with a girl? Why can’t I?” You cry out softly when Suguru smacks your ass, leaning back and stroking himself now.

“That’s true, I do sometimes like that.” You admit shyly, blush creeping on your face, before you look back to Satoru under you, bracing yourself nervously on his chest, as he grabs your hips, positioning his tip at your entrance.

“Can you take all this cock, brat?” He murmurs, and you laugh then, rolling your eyes at him.

“Sure can.”

“Uh huh.”

“Arguing even now?” Suguru says, and you ease down Satoru’s huge cock now, as it stretches your little hole, and you cry out, back arching as his mean tip pushes through your walls. “Oh fuck… good girl.”

“Mnh!” You ease down his length, until his cock is buried in your pussy, against your cervix, and your eyes shoot to his, wide at the sensation, as he grips your waist so tight his fingers dig into your ribs.

“Oh my fucking god…” Satoru murmurs, just staying there, blinking for a moment as he looks at you, and you feel his heart race under your palm. You barely lift and slide up, then back down, and your core tightens, your walls flutter around him, his eyes are rolling back in his head.

“Feels good, doesn’t she?” Suguru says, and you watch him now, through hazy eyes, reaching for him weakly, and he comes to you, kissing you, letting you stroke his cock, rock hard and dripping. “Fuck you’re hot baby. Show him what you can do.”

You nod, and Suguru is watching again, as you roll your hips, making Satoru whimper. Yes, mean Satoru Gojo is whimpering, nothing to say, under you. He’s pressing his hips up, as you sink down on him, soaking his thighs, even prepped as you were he hurt to take, it was like he was in your damn cervix, so you struggle to be able to move, up and down him.

“C’mere, brat.” He says then, and you lean forward, breasts in his face, which he eagerly begins to suck on, leaving loud pops as he lavishes them with attention, bucking his hips up and making you scream.

“Ohmyfuck- s’good, fuck!” You cry out when he begins thrusting inside you, as you lay there on him, back arched, and he’s groaning, big hands everywhere.

“Can’t ride cock, huh, am I too big, brat?” He whispers meanly in your ear, and your little hands grip his shoulders tight, whining.

“F-fuck you, Satoru.” You whisper back, and he moans, fucking up into you so hard you feel yourself unravel.

“Feel so perfect.” His meanness and his sweetness do insane things to your brain, when he kisses you then, and you’re falling off the edge, seeing stars as you begin to cum all over his cock. “Oh my… fuck.”

“Ngh! F-fuckkk!” You’re screaming as you have the most intense orgasm you ever have, as he presses and grinds, pumping into you and you’re soaking him so much he’s slippery in you.

“So wet for me, huh?” He mutters through gritted teeth, and you can do nothing, your head just lolling back, exposing your throat to his brutal kisses, as he overtakes everything you’ve ever been.

You’re horrible.

You love this.

“Wanna cum in you. Breed you.” His breathy words were only for your ears, lewd and nasty and so disrespectful, but fuck if you didn’t want them, fuck if they didn’t make you cum again all over his length, as you looked into blown out blue eyes.

“Mnhm… c-can’t… move…” Is all you manage to mumble, as he’s railing the fuck out of your sore little cunt, bruising your cervix.

“Come help her, Sugu, she can’t even function.” Satoru says, between huffs, as he slows his thrusts now, and Suguru kisses your slack lips, swiping up your drool, you eagerly attempt to kiss him back, to try to cling to him.

“Sugu…” You murmur incoherently, and Satoru’s moaning as you just sit there, your walls fluttering around Satoru.

“Back on your knees, Princess. You can suck me off, wanna feel that throat on my cock.” Suguru moans into your ear, and you nod, weakly. You ease off Satoru and your thighs won’t stop shaking, as Suguru flips you around. Now Satoru is behind you, and Suguru is in front of you, precum leaking from his tip. You lap it up, and he moans, gripping your hair.

“This ass… it’s this nice?” Satoru asks, as you peek back at him, and you giggle a bit weakly.

“You’re complimenting me again.”

“I’ve given you plenty. Pretty, perfect, tight, now I’m going overboard. You’ll get conceited.”

“Oh, like you? Ah!” Satoru thrusts in you. Too deep in this position and you whine, as Suguru wraps your hair around his fist, and you swirl your tongue around his tip.

“Shut you up, ha-fuck…”

“F-fuck… you… mmm…” You go back to sucking Suguru's cock, and he throbs in your mouth, groaning now.

“Will you all stop-ah- fighting? Fuck you feel so good…” Suguru's thrusts become more erratic as your little cunt is soaking every inch of Satoru, dripping down your cunt onto the bed. He grips you so tightly it's uncomfortable, reaching around to toy with your clit now, and you scream around Suguru's cock.

“Making such a mess, huh?” Satoru smacks your ass then with his big ass hand. “Dripping all over Sugu’s sheets.”

“I'm so fine with that.” They chuckle, and soon you feel Satoru thicken and pulse in you, and he gasps, pausing. Suguru also slows his rhythm, groaning and pulling back to tilt your chin up.

He looks at you sweetly but it's not the same hunger, is it?

You are horrible huh. You want this man that hates you this much.

When you have Suguru.

What's wrong with you now!? Suguru didn't get this way, did he?

Did he…

“Where do you want us to cum Princess?” You hesitate, clutching the sheets under you, whimpering and slamming your eyes shut when Satoru slides out then in you gently.

“I'll swallow you, you're always yummy.” You say, and he exhales, brows lowering.

“Fuck you're perfect, Princess.” At that you feel Satoru's fingers dig in, so hard you wince in pain.

“Where can I cum? Close… fucking stop tightening you brat!”

“I'm n-not!”

“Lies. Ugh.”

“You two… ugh. Where do you want Satoru to cum, baby?” You look back at him, at those blown out eyes, pussy drunk on you.

“Where do you wanna cum, Satoru?” He bites his lip, rubbing his hands up your back then.

“Inside you.” Suguru pauses then, as you and Suguru hadn't done that even. Your eyes catch his hesitation.

“Up to… you, Sugu.” You say then, and he hums to himself, before shoving his cock back in your mouth, and you suck it greedily, so close to cumming again even though Satoru barely moved.

“She hasn't done that yet, so no. But… paint her pretty body all you want.” Satoru exhales, and you feel him fuck you hard now, as Suguru begins to stutter, his hips jerking deep, and you're starting to cum around Satoru's length.

“Cumming so good for me, brat.” Satoru murmurs, and then, “Wanna cum in her. Ugh, fuck.” He pulls out then, and you feel his hot sticky ropes paint your ass, your pussy just barely.

Suguru is cumming now, pulling back so not to choke you, and you suck him up, salty liquid drip by drip, looking up at his brown eyes, as he lovingly caresses your face. But you suck in a gasp when you feel it.

Satoru pushing his cum inside your little pussy.

He acts like he's fingering you, but you fucking felt it, hot and tacky, going against what Suguru said. When you finish sucking up Suguru you arch your ass up for more, though, because you want it, fuck. And he's taking more of the cum around your lips and shoving it deep with two fingers, like he's claiming you.

You cum down from the high, Suguru is kissing you, tasting himself on your lips. Satoru comes behind you, kissing and biting your shoulders hard, and you're still covered in him. You turn to kiss Satoru but he hesitates, kissing your forehead instead, sweetly almost.

“Lemme clean you up.” Satoru says, and you smile sweetly as he gets up, leaving you and Suguru for a moment.

“Are you two getting along?” Suguru teases, and you blush, looking away. “I know you said cumming inside is kinda intimate.”

“Just because we're not monogamous. If we were um… I would. As it stands if you cum in other girls I'm not down.” He frowns as he looks at you.

“Do you want to have Satoru here tomorrow? With Shoko? Maybe you won't feel as left out. I hate when you feel that way.” You sigh then, as you feel the tiny bit of cum Satoru pushed inside your cunt sliding out. Satoru did that knowing he shouldn't.

But you loved it.

You wanted him to cum in you, and you love how fucking insane he is to do it. How wrong. Because he wanted you so bad.

What the fuck.

“Fucking Shoko? Yuck.” Gojo's cleaning your ass now, big hand pressing the back of your shoulder.

“You and her used to fuck around didn't you?” You listen curiously.

“Yeah yeah. I could play I guess but I don't look at her that way because she's too close to us.” You frown then, studying Suguru seriously, and he looks away then.

Huh.

“But I'll come and party with you heathens, if this brat wants me to.” Satoru brushes your hair back, and you look at him then. There is way too much unspoken shit. He just pushed his cum inside you. He only wants you.

“Hate sex is pretty fun.” You tease, and he laughs then, fuck his laugh is sexy, and Suguru joins, the tension lessened.

“No one has to do anything they don't want. But it's settled then, we'll all have fun I'm sure. You'll get to see her kiss a girl.”

“Hmm, true. Then I'm sold.” You all clean up, and get dressed, as Satoru goes to leave. You ache to go with him, as you see those eyes seriously study you.

“Night, Satoru. You all kiss and say good night, you're almost friends now.” Suguru teases, walking away, and you and Gojo stand there, staring at each other.

“Hate you.” He says, lovingly almost, caressing your cheek. And you gulp, stepping closer, running your hands up his hard torso, watching him inhale. “Hate that.”

“I'm starting to hate you too.” You say, looking at his lips, reddened from your kisses. “I know what you did.”

“You liked it, little slut.” He whispers meanly, glaring, breath against your lips as he holds your face in his big hands. “Admit it.”

“Fuck you, Satoru.” He slams his lips on yours, and he was right. Fuck yes he was right. You wanted it so bad.

“If I gotta touch anyone else I'll just think of you. Or I won't even get hard.” His whisper in your ear makes you tremble, so violently he has to hold you tight. “Sugu doesn't realize what he's got, or he'd have never fucking shared you. Perfect pussy. Perfect body.”

“Satoru… no, don't…” You whine as he slides his hand up your pajama shorts you'd put on, finding you embarrassingly wet, and he moans in your ear.

“I'd make you feel so perfect if you were mine. You're not though. What a fucking shame. So I hate you.” You nearly cum before he yanks his hand away, sucking on his fingers and shutting his eyes, moaning, and you're a goddamn wreck. Your eyes are full of unshed tears as you look at him, as he's turned your life upside down in one night.

“I hate you too. For… this. Fuck you.” He smirks, slamming his lips down on yours, and you taste yourself. Mixed with Satoru's sweet breath. Your hands entangle in his hair as you whine, desperate for him. “Hate what you make me feel.”

“Good, because same. Have a horrible fucking night because I hate you.” He's scowling down and you glare up, and he shatters your heart as you feel far too much.

“Get home safe then have a horrible night.” He smirks down at you, backing away then.

“Even when you try to be mean you fail. Get better.”

“You…”

“Bye bye. See ya tomorrow. Difference is I will only want you.” You stand there, tortured, as he leaves.

He leaves you with a million feelings, a million questions, and maybe you do hate him.

Because Satoru has ruined you, already.

Chapter 3

Ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/58179796/chapters/148437157#workskin

[cursingtoji]

I am back for more

31… BUT HEAR ME OUT 😩 I can’t pick between Suguru and Choso because they both fit it SOO well so you pick ☺️💕

𝕿𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝕬𝖗𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖙!𝕮𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖔

⊱ fem reader x heavily tattooed choso, porn with a plot, dirty talk, semi-public sex, fingering, a tongue piercing; The Clichés ™;

note: winter i remember us talking about tattoo artist choso and i went feral with it, geto is mentioned but he does not participate (yet? 👀)

tattoo artist!Choso who is heavily tattooed mostly black and gray art. his fair skin contrasting with the dark ink on his arms and neck. black smudged eyeliner around his brown eyes make his look upon you feel a thousand times deeper

choso is a sight for sore eyes

he’s exactly the kind of guy you would expect to see working in a tattoo shop

when you go get a matching tattoo with your best friend is when you first see him, writing something down at the reception and not noticing you at first

his pretty face and deep eyes greet you both with a smile so pretty that makes you forget the name of your scheduled artist.

“matching tattoos…” he looks in a book as you hope him to be the artist, “ah here, Suguru!” he calls and a man with black hair tied in a bun comes to you and your friend.

“thank you” you smile getting a wink back from him.

suguru is very friendly, he asks your bestie questions about your friendship since she’s the first one to get inked while you look around the shop, more specifically at the art in frames hanging all around the walls.

one catches your eye: a traditional japanese dragon with some flowers and clouds around it.

you even get closer to take a better look at the intricate details

your friend has to tap your shoulder when shes done cause you completely spaced out thinking about that art on your body

suguru can’t help but notice how your eyes keeping swinging back to that piece on the art while he’s tattooing your forearm

“you know, that one is by one of our guys” he says, “Choso. You met him in the reception” he points with his chin to the handsome man

“really? that’s beautiful… was it done for a client or something like that?” you ask wanting to know if someone else already had that piece of art tattooed.

“no, not really. choso created that on his own” suguru smirks when sees you biting your lip “a dragon would look gorgeous on your back or thigh” you were already tempted without suguru pushing you.

by the time your matching tattoo is done, suguru had already convinced you to come back and get the dragon on your thigh, since choso was nowhere to be seen, suguru himself scheduled your appointment with choso for next week.

“got ya’ an appointment” suguru says finding choso on the break room

“oh yeah?”

“she’s gonna get the dragon with flowers that has been on the wall for months”

choso stops all he’s doing and looks at suguru with an empty expression

“i know i know, you’re afraid to tattoo it, client not liking and you ending up heart broken cause it’s your favourite drawing of yours…” choso delivered a light punch on his friend’s shoulder, “but come on, the girl was so cute and she really loved it”

it’s not like choso could just call you and say he wasn’t gonna do it, so after another punch on suguru he returned to his station and followed his week until the day you returned to studio

saying you were anxious is an understatement

it would be a pretty large tattoo that you decided to get on your thigh, but the expectation to see choso again played a big part on your apprehensiveness

your artist is already at the reception talking to a younger guy you haven’t seen around the last time

you greet them both and say your there for your appointment, the younger one asks who your artist is

“she’s mine, come on, sweetheart” he says so casually and leaves you trying to regulate your heartbeat.

choso takes you upstairs to the corner of the room and tells you to get comfortable on the chair after you okayed the size of the stencil

“i need you to take it off or it’ll get stained with ink” he pointed to your shorts and closed the curtain, he stayed there but turned around pretending to organize the caps to give you some privacy

you wiggle out of the article and sat back on the chair with your black undies and nothing else under the waist, thankfully you chose a good one. when you’re comfortable choso approaches to rub some alcohol and place the stencil

as soon as you agree he begins to trace the patterns with you sitting on the partially reclined chair.

“how we doing?” he looks up after half an hour, having finished part of the drawing.

“i’m alright” you sigh.

“strong girl, we can make a break in an hour, then i’ll have finished the flowers” he assures and go back to focusing on your thigh.

having a gorgeous man so close to your crotch was having an effect on you that didn’t match the pain he was inflicting.

of course it hurt but every time he got too close to your skin and you feel his hot breathing fanning over the sore area you unconsciously press your thighs together.

and choso is not stupid, of course he notices how aroused his cute client is, he has his hand on your inner thigh and whenever your reflexes kick and you try to close them he tights his grip on you to avoid you moving and screwing up his lines

“sure you’re okay?” he stops the machine to run vasiline on your skin very softly while looking in your eyes, you can’t find your voice to answer him “we can take a break now, maybe i can get you to relax a little” he doesn’t need to move his hand much to touch the covered shape of your pussy, when he does you whimper.

“i can almost smell how wet you are, does pain turn you on that much?” he removes his hand to snap his glove out and touch the wet patch on your underwear with his bare fingers

you shake your head “no? what was it then? don’t tell me it’s me” he raises from his stool staring from above while you look back at him with doe eyes “aren’t you cute…” he murmurs kissing your forehead and pushing your underwear aside to run his fingers on your wet folds a couple of times before pushing them in

“i need you to keep it down for me, can you do that?” he murmurs it so low you barely hear it due to the voices on the other side of the curtain, you nod and starts to move his fingers skillfully

“naughty girl, booked a tattoo just to get your pussy played with, tsk tsk” he adds a second finger keeping your clit under his thumb.

“no! i really want it” you reply immediately not wanting him to think for a second you didn’t love his art.

that seemed to be enough affirmation for choso, who leans taking your chin with his free hand, he stops right before your lips studying the little pout you have and how dilated your pupils are

he smirks and softly bites your bottom lip, which makes you yelp but he licks it apologetically.

choso feels like eating you whole, the way you respond to him is mesmerizing.

“c-choso i’m close” you grip his arm and he pushes his tongue in, swallong your moans cause the last thing he needs is one of his coworkers finding out about this.

you didn’t notice at first due to his ministrations bellow your waist but he had a tongue piercing, the cold metal rolls between your tongues, a new exciting addition to an already great kiss

his thumb flickers your clit and you press your thighs around his hand climaxing hard and silently

“good girl” he pulls away taking a string of saliva, you rest your head on the chair recovering from your high, for a second your eyes close but soon open them again when you feel a tissue touch your sensitive core

“wait aren’t you— aren’t we—?” you look down to his bulge, he was clearly aroused too

“calm down lady, this is just the first session” he laughs and gently cleans you and the chair and then places your underwear back, “lemme finish this and if you don’t tap out i’ll reward you in the end” he winks before disappearing behind the curtains for a couple of minutes, you take the chance to look down at your skin.

it was a bit swollen but you could see that the part he had inked already was perfect, the dragon was halfway done and you couldn’t wait to see it completed.

when choso gets back he’s pleasurably surprised to find you looking at your leg with a smile in your face.

“lemme see…” a few hours later you’re at the reception talking to the boy from before to schedule your return in order to color the rest of the tattoo, “choso is free next—“

“actually yuuji you can book her for this weekend” choso steps up, just walking down the stairs. moments before he told you to book the return with yuuji while he cleaned his station.

“you are not working this weekend” yuuji looks at him suspiciously.

“i am now” choso emphasize by tapping his finger on the date at the planner.

“hm okay” yuuji takes your information and you thank him before choso leads you out.

“you’ll be working just for me?” you ask once you’re out.

“yeah but you’ll buy us lunch after i’m done”

“done with the tattoo?”

“done with you” your eyes widen and you’re already excited for your date.

“okay, I’ll pay, but…” you step closer to him but not too much so the people inside the shop don’t notice, “you’ll have to use your tongue”

“you like it?” he rolls his tongue out displaying the shiny round metal, “fine i’ll show you what i can do with it next time”

See also: “who did this to you?” + Sukuna

[beenbaanbuun]

seventeen’s reaction to their youngest member getting injured

choi seungcheol

has already lost 10 years of his life just from worrying about you

loses 5 more when he has to accompany you to the hospital because of your broken leg

he tried to save the lecture until after he knows you’re okay, but he can’t help it when the leader in him comes out

the conversation *cough* reprimand *cough* lasts for the whole car journey and by the time you’ve got the the hospital, you’d already been blocking it out for 10 minutes

“you need to be more careful,” he said as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. he might be frustrated, but he still wanted to show you he cared. “it might be a broken leg this time but who knows what it’ll be next time!”

at the end of the day he just cares about you too much to see you hurt

yoon jeonghan

if it isn’t bad, he’ll just tease you about how clumsy you are

probably still teases you if it is bad, but when you start tearing up because of how much it hurts, will immediately stop

causes hell just to make sure you’re getting the best treatment possible because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t make you were were as comfortable as possible

eventually calms down when you assure him you’re fine and you feel perfectly alright with what you’d been given

leaves 80% of the lecturing to seungcheol and just gives you a tiny one himself, mostly about how you’re not allowed to worry him

once he knows you’re feeling a little better, a switch will flip and he’ll go back to his regular annoying self just to try and get things back to normal

“well at least you didn’t fall down the stairs,” he laughed before cutting it short just a few seconds later, “oh, wait… never mind, you did!”

hong jisoo

was the only one around when you cut your finger open with the kitchen knife

doesn’t know what to do so he sends a text to seungcheol and shoves your hand under the cold tap for a while

tries to cheer you up but doesn’t really know how to when you’re bleeding profusely and crying just as much

eventually lands on his usual method of doing stupid shit just to get the tiniest smile out of you while you wait for anyone else to come and do the important part of patching you up

“keep your hand there,” he tells you as he lets go of your wrist and steps away from you, “get ready to feel better.”

100% does that silly little dance of his which has you cry laughing instead of just regular crying

you almost forget how much it hurts and shua considers his job done!

wen junhui

kind of clueless on what to do when you go to him with a bloody nose and tell him you got hit in the face playing foot volleyball

sits you down on the sofa whilst he frantically google’s how to stop nose bleeds

asks you to go and grab tissues before realising that you’re the one he’s supposed to be helping and goes to get them himself

winces a bit when he gets blood on his hands but remembers that he’s doing it for you and the grossness of it goes away pretty quickly

tries to talk you through the pain, letting you know about what he’s been doing with his day and what he’s planning to do later

“and then you came in to talk to me and i think that’s it,” he finished up recounting every second of his day as he switched the tissue for a clean one, “and then later i’m going to head to the practice rooms to-”

definitely forgets about your injury once the bleeding has stopped and boops you on the nose only to profusely apologise when you wince in pain

kwon soonyoung

if you could run away with a sprained ankle, you definitely should because hoshi will turn up his clinginess by about 80% the moment he hears that you have an injury

will not let you out of his sight until he knows you’re okay again

unfortunately for you that means you have a permanent body guard telling you what you can and can’t do which gets very old very fast

you cant even hide from him because god knows he will seek you out and yell at you for walking on your bad ankle too much

might be overbearing but in reality he just wants you to get better as quickly as possible because it makes him sad to see you in pain

“sit down and let me do it,” hoshi shouted as he noticed you trying to get a bowl of cereal for yourself, “and you wonder why i like to keep an eye on you…”

you eventually give into the clinginess in the hopes that he’ll get bored after a while… he doesn’t…

jeon wonwoo

freezes when he spots you crying and holding your wrist in front of the stove

literally does not know what to do in this situation because he usually palms it off onto one of his other members

but he’s the only one around and you’ve just been burnt and desperately need someone to help

so he walks over to you and drags you to the sink with your good wrist, all whilst muttering complaints about how you need to be more careful

strokes your hair when you’re running your wrist under the cold water to try and soothe you just a little

“you’re okay, y/n,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your hairline, “i know it hurts but the longer you hold it under the water, the less it’ll hurt in the long run.”

passes you along to the next member that comes along but will check up on you every few minutes just to make sure you’re okay

lee jihoon

his first response is always ‘go find seungcheol’ when you go to him with an injury, but sometimes he’s the only one around and you look so upset and fuck… he’ll have to deal with this

very methodical about it - asks you what’s wrong, finds out what he needs to do, does it

he’ll try and hide his smile as you tell him about what stupid thing you were doing that got you hurt this time, but tries to hide it because at the end of the day, you’re still injured

usually shuffles in close whilst he’s bandaging you up just so you can lean on him in it gets too painful at any point

he refuses to complain about you leaning on him when you’re hurt because how can he deny you physical affection when it’s obviously making you feel better

in reality he just has a soft spot for you and uses you being hurt as an excuse to let you hug him with no complaints

“there we go, kid,” he rubs your arm affectionately, “all patched up…”

lee seokmin

panics because oh god his kid is hurt and he doesn’t know what to do and WHERE IS SEUNGCHEOL

will sit down and hold you close while he rings around the members to try and find one to come and help

he claims the cuddling is to help soothe, but you both know it’s so he can calm himself down more than anything

eventually gets ahold of another member and begs them to come home and help

breathes a sigh of relief when they agree; now his only job is making sure you’re calm and comfortable and nothing hurts too much

cue seokmin literally becoming your butler for the next 20 minutes whilst you wait for someone else to get home because he needs to make sure that you have everything you need

“do you need more tea?” he asks as you take the final sip. not even a second passes before the mug is taken from you and more tea is poured. “i’ll get you some more, just so you have it if you want it, okay?”

kim mingyu

tries his hardest to help but he can’t help but gag when you tell him about how you trapped you fingers in the car door

doesn’t know what to do so he literally wraps up your whole hand in gauze and calls it a day - it’s someone else’s problem now

spends more time trying to cheer you up than he actually does helping with your injury because at least he knows how to make you smile

tells you bad jokes until you can’t breathe from laughter and you’re begging him to stop

he stops but only so you can get your breath back, and then he starts again because laughter is clearly a great pain killer

“if it’s more jokes you want then it’s more jokes i have, pipsqueek,” mingyu smiled at you as you frantically shook your head, “no more jokes? well that’s boring… how about this one? why did the old man-”

continues until someone more qualified to deal with your gross injury gets home

xu minghao

doesn’t lecture you in the same way seungcheol does, but definitely gives you a speech about how you shouldn’t be putting yourself in dangerous situations

rolls his eyes at you when you try and pass the blame onto another member who you claimed to be your ‘partner in crime’ because he knows it was definitely just your own clumsiness

still tries his hardest to help clean up the scratch on your face that you got from who knows what - minghao had zoned out part way through your convoluted story

lets you squeeze his hand if the antiseptic makes your scratch hurt too much

even let’s you pick out a cute bandaid to put over it just because he knows it’ll cheer you up

“if your stylist gets mad at you, don’t come crying to me,” he grumbles as he presses a kind kiss to the bandaid, “it’s your own fault, no one else’s.”

tells you to be careful before you go running off to cause more trouble

boo seungkwan

very much an ‘i told you this would happen’ kind of person, even if he had not ‘told you so’ like he says he did

will roll his eyes when you get brought back to the dorms with a cast on your wrist, but is the first to help you carry your stuff inside

yells at you if you even think about lifting a finger but complains about how you’re making him do everything for you

you always tell him if it’s that much trouble you’ll do it yourself, but he’ll just glare at you and tell you to stop talking nonsense

threatens to tell seungcheol whenever he catches you with your arm out of your sling

would actually go through with it if he thought you were doing any real damage to your arm

“the doctor wouldn’t like you doing that, you know,” he muttered as he watched you stretch out your aching limb, “neither would seungcheol…”

choi hansol

vernon knows that if you go to him with an injury, you have exhausted literally every other option you have

literally clueless about what to do when you walk up to him with a black eye because you ran into a glass door

google is his best friend as he frantically searches how to reduce bruising

has no qualms with sending you to retrieve your own ice pack from the freezer as he does some more googling…

won’t do much to try and cheer you up other than putting on a movie and grabbing snacks for the two of you to share

doesn’t complain about holding your ice pack in place when you fall asleep on his shoulder… after all, it just means more snacks for him

falls asleep himself before the film is over and your ice pack ends up on the floor… so much for trying to reduce the bruising

lee chan

probably his fault you were injured in the first place so he makes you promise that if he helps then you won’t tell any of the older members

you only agree to the deal when he offers to buy you a meal as well as helping you clean and bandage the cuts on your knees from where he tripped you

he honestly tries his hardest to help, partly because he feels bad and partly because he doesn’t want to face anyone’s wrath when they find out he’s the reason you’re injured

tries is the main word, though, as he ends up having to get help from someone else anyway

he chooses the least likely member to get him in trouble and together him and mingyu puzzle over what to do about your knees

you eventually end up guiding them through the process of cleaning them and then wiping them down with antiseptic before bandaging them

“do you think i did a good job?” he asks once the bandages were secured over the grazes. you glared at him. “fine, a good enough job for you to not tell on me…”

[novvabee]

The Boys in the Band

AN: I got carried away with this one, but here is the second part to the band au

word count: 2.8k

cw: language? there is nothing really bad about this one.

Since your first show, you had been quite busy. You had opened for a couple bands at The Common Room, you booked a few nights at the popular club, The Hog’s Head, and managed to snag a spot in another festival. You had become popular very quickly amongst the girls, gays, theys, and young people in the city. Each gig you noted more and more fans, crowds growing, singing so loud and dancing so hard. 

This is what you always dreamed of, performing and making people happy. You lived for the drama and theatrics of it all, dressing up on stage and singing your heart out. The girls felt the same electricity, the same passion as you. That made your bond as a group that much stronger.

Not to mention, you were all good friends. Lily had mentioned to you that she and Mary had been messing around and found out they actually sounded really good together. Then they asked Marlene if she would play drums, which she said yes to in a heartbeat. And then Lily realized they needed a front woman, someone who could sing and bring the most energy. She thought of you, your bold and fierce attitude, your flirty and fun personality. And that is how you started.

The four of you wrote all the music you performed; the fun and girly songs by Mary, the campy over-the-top songs about women by Marlene, the sad and slow ballads by yourself, and the thought provoking and experimental ones by Lily.

Mary had the upbeat, girly, pop songs down. Her personality just flowed with inspiration for them, so those were the types of songs that you mostly sang and performed. You weren’t complaining, her songs were half the fun.

Marlene was full of something you all liked to tease her about; lesbian angst. But all that angst made for great songs to perform and were usually the crowd favorites.

Lily was slightly different, she was full of thoughts and ideas about the world, and her medium to get them out of her brain and into the world, was through music and lyrics. She wrote a lot of songs for women, for rights for all and for political change. If you had to pick, you would say hers were by far your favorites. She didn’t write often, but when she did, she had a message, something to say. You loved that about her.

Your songs were all ballads and sad. The girls teased you about that too, saying you shouldn’t let a man make you cry. It wasn’t exactly your fault, you had just gotten out of a long term relationship, and were drawing inspiration from all the confusing, mixed feelings that came with that. 

You had been dating this boy, Matthew, for about a year and a half, but everything seemed to take a turn for the worse a couple months ago. Your once sweet and charming boyfriend had turned into this cold, vacant man right in front of you. You two argued all the time, about small things as well as very important, serious things. He started accusing you of sneaking around, hiding things from him, cheating on him. None of it was true, and you tried to tell him that, but he wouldn’t listen to reason.

So you had enough. You told him that if you two couldn’t work things out, you didn’t know if you could continue on. He said nothing, just agreed with you. He didn’t try to mend the broken relationship, didn't try to fight either for you or with you. You would’ve taken either, but he just walked away.

As much as you tell yourself you’re doing so much better, that you have moved on and don’t care about him anymore, that isn’t exactly true.

You leaned into the band to distract yourself, putting everything you had in it so that you wouldn’t be left with those feelings. You’re just glad you had your friends, your girls who not only could help you through it, but also help you see this band through. They ignited you.

You felt that way even just sitting on the floor of Mary’s apartment. The space was cute and cozy. You girls were sprawled out over fluffy rugs, a plush couch, and two oversized bean bags. 

Mary was nodding her head along to a beat that only she could hear, writing down what you could only guess were new lyrics. Lily was strumming a tune she had been working on for over a week. You and Marlene were talking about what to wear for your upcoming show. 

“I think you'd look good in that pink leotard with the matching cowgirl boots.” Marlene recommended.

“The pink tassels or the pink heart?” you asked.

She thought for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “The tassels, that way you can wear the boots and maybe a cowboy hat,” she paused looking at the other two, “maybe we can try out Pink Pony?”

Excited, you clapped your hands together. You had been dying to perform this new song in front of a crowd and this was the perfect opportunity. You were playing at The Common Room again, but this time it was only you. Unlike every other performance you had, this time there were no openers, and no one else after you. You got a whole set for yourselves and the whole night to perform and party with fans.

The night was going to be nothing short of magical.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

James followed Remus and Sirius into the stage door of The Common Room.

All three boys wanted to come and see the performance that The Pixies were giving tonight. They had gained a lot of traction recently, seemingly overnight.

James didn’t feel at all jealous or threatened, they were doing just as well themselves, and they made entirely different music. He was more curious as to the fact that this band came out of nowhere.

The Marauders were used to competition revolving around the music world. They had been doing this for a while now, they understood the fight to fill spots and book sets. This band was just another contender now.

James was more frequently used to The Snakes stealing their gigs or spots in festivals, but now even they were pushed aside for this new band. The Snakes was led by Sirius’s little brother Regulus, another person on the list James hadn’t spoken to in a while. James knew that Regulus was a grudge holder, hell, he was related to Sirius, so he shouldn’t be surprised that Regulus cut all contact.

He fucked up, he knew he did. But he still wasn’t ready to think about it.

Slipping through the crowd and continuing to follow as best he could, all three boys ended up in the back of the already packed room. 

“Holy shit,” Sirius began, “there are so many people. How much were tickets?” He asked Remus.

Remus answered with a head shake. “Don’t know, Lily told me to come in through the back door so we wouldn’t have to pay.”

James’s stomach sunk, maybe he shouldn’t have come. Lily didn’t even invite him, he just tagged along with Remus. But, she had to have known that would happen, right? The boys didn’t do anything or go anywhere without each other.

“Oh my god! Hi,” came a voice from a girl to his right. “You’re The Marauders right? I love you guys. I’ve been to, like, a bunch of shows.” James recognized this girl. She was always front row or close enough, always giving Sirius a look that showed she wanted to fuck him, or at least become a groupie. “Could I get a pic?” she asked.

Sirius smirked. “Course you can sweetheart.” he said while she handed her phone to someone she was with. She stood between Remus and Sirius for the photo, then thanked the boys, obviously wanting the interaction to continue. 

James did not. He would look like such an asshole taking pictures with fans at Lily’s show.

The thought was cut short when the house lights dimmed and the stage turned a hazy pink color. James lost every thought in his head when you came out on stage.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Walking out onto the stage, you were met by a wall of sound, cheers and screams. Your nerves and butterflies instantly fluttered away. This is where you were meant to be, up here on this stage, in front of a crowd, making music. You had dreamed of this since you were a little girl.

You pranced yourself out in a cowboy hat and high heel boots, a matching sparkly and intricately tasseled leotard to top it all off. Your ass may be out, but that was the fun of it, the aesthetic. Especially for the new song you had prepared for the night. 

“Hello my friends.” you said, the cheers and screams somehow getting even louder. “We are The Pixies,” you introduced, “and we are here to give you the night of your life.”

You looked around the crowd to see so many faces enhanced with intricate and beautiful makeup looks, so many fans copying looks from your previous performances, so many bodies in bright colors. So many people who felt confident in what they were wearing and how they looked. 

“We’re gonna start off with a new one if that’s ok with you.” You announced you got an astounding amount of cheers, noting many phones launch into the air to record this new one. “This song is a fun one but more importantly,” you paused, the whole crowd hanging on your breath, “it is about what my mother thinks I am doing with my life. Here is Pink Pony Club!”

The girls started playing the intro and you walked to the front of the stage, sitting down, legs dangling off.

I know you wanted me to stay

But I can't ignore the crazy visions of me in LA

And I heard that there's a special place

Where boys and girls can all be queens every single day

You stood, walking back to center stage.

I'm having wicked dreams of leaving Tennessee

Hear Santa Monica, I swear it's calling me

Won't make my mama proud, it's gonna cause a scene

She sees her baby girl, I know she's gonna scream

You whipped around to the audience

God, what have you done?

You're a pink pony girl

And you dance at the club

Oh mama, I'm just having fun

On the stage in my heels

It's where I belong down at the

You started dancing and jumping around stage, Lily and Mary joining you, smiles plastered on their faces

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing down in

West Hollywood

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club, Pink Pony Club

The audience had settled into the performance, had gotten into the groove of the song, and joined in the dancing and the fun.

I'm up and jaws are on the floor

Lovers in the bathroom and a line outside the door

Blacklights and a mirrored disco ball

Every night's another reason why I left it all

I thank my wicked dreams a year from Tennessee

Oh, Santa Monica, you've been too good to me

Won't make my mama proud, it's gonna cause a scene

She sees her baby girl, I know she's gonna scream

God, what have you done?

You're a pink pony girl

And you dance at the club

Oh mama, I'm just having fun

On the stage in my heels

It's where I belong down at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing down in

West Hollywood

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club, Pink Pony Club

The crowd was going crazy, right along with you, until you slowed down and the girls played quieter for the bridge.

Don't think I've left you all behind

Still love you and Tennessee

You're always on my mind

And mama, every Saturday

I can hear your southern drawl a thousand miles away, saying

God, what have you done?

You're a pink pony girl

And you dance at the club

Oh mama, I'm just having fun

On the stage in my heels

It's where I belong down at the

You jumped up and danced like crazy, the crowd joining in, loving this new song. Some picked up on the lyrics and were singing them back to you, the feeling indescribable.

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing down in

West Hollywood

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club, Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing

I'm gonna keep on dancing

You kept dancing as Lily and Mary played the outro, out of breath and so happy. Once the song was finished, the whole building was filled with cheering. You looked to Mary, then over to Lily, they looked just as ecstatic, you could imagine Marlene felt the same. 

“Thank you, thank you!” you said into the mic. “Well, if you like that Common Room, we’re just getting started.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

James had never seen a concert, a band like yours. There was no way to describe it, you were just, stars already. 

The rest of the concert was filled with just as much fun, joy as the first song. The dancing and singing and laughing was indescribable. 

The boys waited after the concert, waited until the last of the fans trickled out, then they made their way backstage. Walking down the halls and to the dressing room that had a piece of paper with the word “Pixies” in bold letters, Remus knocked on the door. 

The giggling and sounds of excitement were radiating from the room, loudly even with the door shut.

They waited for a moment before the door pulled open, revealing Mary. The smile dropped from her face for a moment before she put another one in its place, this one though, was more of an uncomfortable grimace more than anything. “Hey! I didn’t know you guys were here.” Mary said, opening the door to let the boys slide through. She hugged each of them on their way in.

James made eye contact with Lily who was on the couch with Marlene. She didn’t break away. He quickly looked over to Marlene and smiled. “We wanted to come and say great show!” he said, directed at them all, but not being able to look away from Marlene, who just smirked, knowing the situation and that James was incredibly uncomfortable right now.

“Thanks.” Marlene replied smoothly. 

Sirius noted the tension and decided to break it. “Where is she?” he asked.

All eyes went to him as Mary asked “Y/N?”

He looked at her and rolled his eyes, “No, the queen.” he said sarcastically.

“Are you going to try to sleep with her?” Mary asked, not holding back.

“What, no!” Sirius denied as if it wasn’t exactly something Sirius would do. “I just want to meet her. ‘Know thy enemy’ and all that.”

Lily scoffed. “She’ll be out in a minute, I think she's taking off her makeup.”

And as if right on que, you waltzed right out of the connected bathroom and into the dressing room. Smiling, you looked at the boys standing across from the couch. 

“Here she is!” Mary ushered you over, chipper and still energized from the performance. “This is Y/N, Y/N these are the boys in The Marauders.”

Your smile grew. “The Marauders? You guys were amazing at the festival.”

Sirius smiled back at you, charming as ever. “‘I'm Sirius.” you looked to the next boy, who was glancing at a fuming Lily.

“Uh, I’m James.” He smiled, seeming to come back to reality and out of whatever thought he was lost in. 

You looked at the final boy, tall and leaning against the wall. “And you’re Remus, right?” you asked.

He nodded. “Yeah we met a while back, lovely to see you again.”

“Lovely to see you! And it is lovely to finally meet you two.” you said to the newly acquainted Sirius and James, they nodded and smiled politely. There was a noticeable tension between everyone in the room, was there really that much of a rivalry?

“I think the boys were just heading out,” Mary said to the three boys standing in front of her. “Isn't that right?”

Sirius huffed and led the other two out throwing a “See you all soon.” over his shoulder as Mary escorted and followed them out into the hallway, shutting the door beyond her.

“That was… strange.” you said to Lily and Marlene. They just looked at each other and laughed, rolling their eyes. You didn’t understand.

“They're idiots.” Marlene supplied.

“They're boys.” Lily corrected.

Taglist 💌:  @adharalikethestar @mayuwolfstar @ieatboysalive @maraudereestauderelb @bugg06 @slytherinambitious (yell at me if I forgot anyone)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for letting my dog correct (nip) my niece to prove a point and refusing to punish him?

I own an ex-K9 called Biggles. Biggles is impeccably trained, a total gentleman when you're not being an asshole to him, but also has no time for your bullshit. He'll tolerate a lot more hassle from the younger kids in our family, but if they're allowed to persist in bullying him, he will correct them, just like he would the adults of the family.

Mostly Biggles will just push them over and walk away. Its his way of saying to leave him alone. Sometimes he'll bark loudly, a kind of 'fuck off now' bark. At the very extreme, he'll give them a tiny little warning nip on the arm or hand.

(Biggles has only ever nip corrected kids twice in all the years I've had him. Once when my cousin thought it was 'cute' to dump her toddler right on top of Biggles and let him rip at his fur and try to bite at his face, and once when my nephew was having a tantrum, Biggles tried to snuggle up to him to soothe him and my nephew hit him in the face.)

I firmly believe in learning how your pet communicates and respecting their reasonable boundaries. To me, if you're yanking on a dog's tail and ignoring everyone warning you to stop and you get a nip to the back of the hand for it, that's a valid consequence of your actions and you've just learned to respect the dog enough not to try pulling its tail out of its spine.

(This likely seems unfathomable to a lot of you, but I must clarify that Biggles isn't some hyper-reactive aggressive, dangerous dog like my sister thinks. He will more than happily play around with the little ones, faux wrestle with them, let them paw all over him and fuss at him, ect. He loves children, they're his babies. He does not love being in pain, and if the person causing it will not respect him or me enough to listen to my warnings, I believe they earn it when he warns them too.)

Anyway. Like you might've guessed, yanking on his tail was what my niece was doing at the beer-and-barbeque this weekend. I told her not to. My parents told her not to. Even my sister half-assedly suggested 'maybe Biggles wants to play a different game.' Biggles got up and moved away from her twice and she followed him both times to 'keep playing.'

My entire family knows how Biggles works. I warned my sister Biggles wouldn't tolerate what was happening. My sister told me I shouldn't own such a dangerous, unpredictable dog and he should be put down if he can't handle some 'rough love from a kid.'

(This was not rough love. This was my niece literally ripping at his tail thinking his pain responses were funny.)

I didn't want to cause a scene or subject Biggles to further harassment so I decided just once I'd cave and take Biggles inside so he could get some peace and I could enjoy my burnt ends without my sister squealing in my ear about being cruel to her child by telling her off.

Unfortunately, Biggles' patience ran out before I could make my way over. My niece yanked at his tail again, hard enough that it actually jolted him on the grass, and Biggles whipped around and nipped at her hand. I got to see her hand afterward and there was just a little red mark, no blood or broken skin. He'd just pinched her a little.

My niece screamed bloody murder like he'd taken her hand off and my sister screamed bloody murder about my 'vicious animal.' It devolved into a massive family-wide argument against my sister because my entire family knows its just basic respect and kindness not to cause an animal pain deliberately, and that its my sister's fault for not listening to anyone when we all told her and my niece not to hurt Biggles.

My sister stormed off and has since been blowing up the entire family demanding that Biggles be put down. She's threatened to call the cops, animal control, you name it. None of us are worried about that. There wasn't even a proper mark left on her hand and Biggles will pass any behavioral test with flying colors, but my sister is giving everyone grief and is refusing to attend any family events if Biggles will be there.

My dad is firmly on my side, but my mom is imploring me to just fake apologise to get some peace back. When I recounted the story to my colleague this morning, he said she got what she earned, but also why would I bring Biggles to an event I knew a disrespectful little shit of a kid was at?

I don't feel like an asshole in terms of allowing my dog to establish his boundaries. In my and my family's opinion pets are their own entities and should be treated with belonging and respect when part of a family. Its also just common sense not to cause an animal pain for the fun of it.

However, I'm also very aware that getting nipped by a dog, especially at such a young age, can be catastrophic. My niece could be terrified of dogs for the rest of her life, and while I don't feel guilty she got corrected, I do feel somewhat guilty that I didn't intervene sooner and have possibly set her up for failure in the future. And I do feel like an asshole for letting it get to that point, but it did all happen pretty quickly.

All things considered I do love my niece, she's family, she just gets away with murder because my sister thinks being a little girl is an automatic pass to do whatever you want without consequence.

I've probably painted Biggles out in a real bad light here, but I can assure you that in general Biggles is the perfect family dog. He's loving, playful, he tries to share his kibble with everyone at dinner, he helped us teach my uncle's puppy tricks and how to behave and potty outside ect.

So I guess I'm really asking am I the asshole in this situation, as the one responsible for Biggles?

What are these acronyms?