#this all kinda came to me while half asleep so I’m trying to work it out

[ixtaek]

Working on theories about Hyrule’s geography based solely upon my vague notion of direction. Featuring the crummiest maps known to Hyruleankind

[neowinestainedress]

HITS DIFFERENT | L.DH

TITLE: hits different

PAIRING: lee haechan x fem!reader | mc’s best friend johnny, haechan’s roommate mark (+ kinda emotional support boy when mc acts like a loser)

GENRE: non-idol au, strangers to friends with benefits to lovers, getting together, smut, angst, fluff | requested | bonus part

SUMMARY: nobody ever got under your skin, not until Haechan came in your life and changed everything. 

WARNINGS: smut, protected and unprotected sex (condom first and then mc is on the pill), multiple sex scenes, oral sex, fingering, car sex, riding, fingers sucking, face sitting, rimming, anal, mirror sex, a bit of exhibitionism (as a fantasy), praise, teasing (as in degradation but it’s not hard stuff), handjob, morning sex, kitchen sex, toys (vibrator), overstimulation, (no bdsm but) switchy dynamics, sa doesn’t happen but there are a few references to pushy behaviours, mentions of a past car accident and death of a barely mentioned character | I hope I didn’t forget anything but if I did, let me know! | kinda implied that both haechan and the reader are bi because in this house we only support mxf bi4bi couples (joking… unless) do whatever you want with this information.

WC: 44.804k

TAGLIST: @adorejaehyn​ @matchahyuck​ @sundhaelatte @jjhmk​ @ourbeautifulaffair​ @what-the-jams​ @oleoleniall​ @kundann @bbagu​ @ismileeprnc-responder​ @produmads​ @zkdlllin​ @yesohhsehun​ @aliceinwhateverland​ @strangevante​ @cas104 @hyuckdreams​

A/N: finally writing hyuck as a loser male wife (kinda) my life is complete!!! It’s been months and I’m back with a request, I know it took long to write it but I hope whoever requested will like this. I’m still not sure about the present tense but idk I’m trying out new things. I would really appreciate if you could support my work in any way, feedback makes me happy and motivates me to keep writing. If you can, reblog so it can reach more people or come and chat in the ask box to let me know your opinion! Love you, enjoy!

It was Johnny’s fault. It’s always his fault when things don’t go as planned. 

It’s his fault if right now you are jumping around Haechan’s bedroom trying to look for your clothes while the clock is running fast, and you are running late. 

It was Johnny’s fault for setting you up with Haechan out of all his friends. 

“Can you please help instead of just staring while I slowly transcend into madness?��

Haechan rolls his eyes, still laying in bed, crumpled-up sheets all over his body. “Damn, all of this for a pair of panties?”

“For all my clothes. What the hell did we do last night?” You groan, throwing your head back while another exhausted sigh slips from your lips. 

“Don’t know,” he shrugs, shaking his hair out of his face while a small smirk curls his lips, “fucked you so hard you forgot?”

“Shut up!”

Haechan sighs another time, eyes rolling in the back of his skull before he stands up and actually starts helping you find your things. You hear him giggle at your muttered curses under your breath but at least he’s helping, studying the room to put your outfit back together. 

But when you finally are done, he doesn’t shut up, he’s not half asleep like he usually is when you sneak out of his place on your tiptoes like a thief. 

“You know, I don’t even get it,” he says, crossing his arms, eyes fixated on you even if you can only see him with your peripherical view, too occupied putting your panties back on. 

“What?”

“Why you’re always in a rush. I think this is the first time I wake up with you. I don’t bite, you know,” you can hear the sarcasm in his voice and this early in the morning, with those implications, you find it slightly irritating. 

You scoff, “I wouldn’t say that.”

“It happened once,” he exhales loudly, a hint of annoyance in his voice, “they looked extra soft.” That’s always his justification when you bring up the one time he bit you during sex, his eyes falling on your chest before you swiftly cover it with your arm. 

“Okay, enough. You are a sleepy head and I have things to do, that’s why.”

Yeah, that’s why. It’s got nothing to do with the fact you created a list of rules to follow when you two started this and you would’ve rather got hit by lighting than broken one of those. He doesn’t know it, though. So, your different personalities and lifestyles make up a good excuse. 

“Whatever,” he replies, believing in you, slightly disappointed over the fact you implied he’s lazy and sleeps too much. “We could eat break—”

“No!” You scream. “Fuck,” you shout again when in the rush of reacting to his absurd proposal you almost zip your panties — or better the skin of your mound — in the zip of your jeans. “I just told you I’m late.”

Haechan doesn’t get you. He thinks he never will. And you can see it in his eyes and the way he’s looking at you. It makes no sense for you to sweat while you’re dressing up again. He also thinks he knows so little of you and has no faint idea of what you could be late for. But he doesn’t ask. He might not have rules written, but somehow that feels like crossing some of those lines that are in between you like invisible strings. 

“My purse, my purse, where the hell is my purse?”

He sucks his teeth, rolling his eyes at your panicked eyes that are looking around the room, before he responds nonchalantly, “Couch, probably. You always throw it there.”

You quirk a brow. Always? Are you picking up habits? You scroll that out of your mind and run a hand through your hair — the flat press that now looks like a mess — before walking past him. It’s so irritating to have him there while you have to escape. 

“Why are you following me?” You ask exhausted, turning around to meet him standing right behind you; you’re face to face, and considering he spent half of the night inside you, you shouldn’t find it so weird to have him so close, but it is, so you take a step back. 

“’Cause this is my house?”

You huff, “yeah, of course.” Your purse is on the couch where you always throw it, and you’re quick to grab it before heading to the door. 

“Are you sure you don’t —”

“No, gotta go. Bye. See ya,” you stop him, waving a last goodbye with a barely visible movement of the hand. 

The door closes behind you and you finally start breathing normally again.

This is all Johnny’s fault.

It was Johnny’s fault. 

If only he didn’t drag you out that night with the lame excuse that you needed to unwind and meet new people. 

It wasn’t totally wrong. Let’s say you aren’t the best at making decisions, especially romantically, and you were still caught up with your ex... or whatever he was. You two weren’t together anymore, technically. Practically? Well…

But you didn’t want to start a new thing, your ex was traumatic, no matter how good the sex was (it wasn’t even that good, currently he’s the only one you can get sex from without having to hold boring conversations with a drink in hand and spend the ride back to their place hoping you didn’t end up in the arms of a killer) he was an asshole.

“Can you please don’t run, I can’t keep up with you,” you scream, trying to reach your best friend, Johnny, hurrying in your steps, praying you won’t break your ankles. 

“You still insist to wear those heels when you can’t walk in them,” he jokes, laughing at you, watching you huff and bend over to catch your breath. 

“It’s not them, it’s you for being so tall, why do you take such big steps?” 

Johnny only rolls his eyes before pointing at the bar door with his head, “Should we head in? Need me to carry you or your small legs can drag you inside?” 

You frown, glaring at him, “I hate you.” 

Johnny smiles, handing out his arm so you can intertwine it with yours and then you step in. 

The inside of the bar is cosy, the brown of the wood and the shelves make it warmer, and the music playing in the background is a nice company sound that won’t overshadow the talks. You don’t have time to look around much more, Johnny’s hand swiftly wraps around your wrist, and then he starts dragging you somewhere, and you can only activate your brain again to focus on him if you don’t want to fall in the middle of the place like a bag of potato. 

“Dude, you finally made it, you’re late.” A boy you don’t know exclaims from the table and your eyes follow the line of five heads sitting next to him. 

“Sorry, it was her fault,” Johnny says. Lies, cause you were on time, he picked you up late, making you wait ten minutes under your complex’s porch. 

You are about to complain but suddenly all the eyes are on you, and you are too conscious about it to do anything else other than stare back at them with an awkward shy smile and a small wave of your hand. 

“He picked me up late,” you still manage to babble out cause there’s no way that will be the first impression of you. You surely have some flaws — many flaws, Johnny would say — but being late it’s not one of them. 

“Yeah, we know,” another one replies, glaring at your friend. 

“Haechan,” Johnny replies with a scowl to him, and you try to note to yourself that’s his name. “Move, we need to sit, too.” 

You wouldn’t have minded sitting at the far end of the bench, not even if you were at risk of falling down every two seconds. It would’ve been better than being squeezed between Johnny and Haechan. But even if the position is not the best, once again because Johnny takes too much space, after more than an hour you got along with all of his friends, you learned that most of them were dating, or busy with something, so you couldn’t quite get why Johnny brought you there. The fear that it was his way to confess to you and screw up twenty years of friendship got your skin crawling for a second, but when you were left alone with the black-haired man to your right, it all made sense. 

“So, how do you know Johnny?” You ask, turning around to look at him while a small smile curls your lips. 

Haechan smiles, or smirks, it’s almost a chuckle, you can’t quite describe it. “At the gym.” 

“At the gym?” 

He rolls his eyes, swiftly licking his lips, and lifting his hands up in defence, “I tried, okay? It’s just not for me.” 

“Oh, no, sorry if it came off rudely,” you apologise. “You didn’t seem interested when they talked about it before so…” 

“Cause I’m not,” he laughs wholeheartedly, and his face softens, making you take a breath of relief, well, good, you didn’t fuck it up for once. “We got close soon and then we started knowing each other out of that hell.”

You laugh at the way he talks about the gym, not that you disagreed, Johnny tried more than once to drag you there but you’re loyal to your Saturday and Sunday morning runs outside or on your treadmill. 

His eyes fall on yours again, and he briefly studies your features before speaking again, “What about you?” 

“Oh, he was actually my brother’s best friend, then they fought, and we became inseparable. My brother is still mad but that’s not my fault.” 

Haechan laughs even though a frown hardens his features for a second, something about your tone seemed off for a split moment, but he shrugs it off and tries to joke about it, “Usually that ends with dating.” 

Your eyes widen and your head moves from side to side. “Oh, hell no.” 

“Johnny’s a dream for a lot of people.” 

“Yeah, we’re fine as friends,” you confirm again, the mere idea of seeing Johnny as something else making your stomach convulse. You are sure he’s a perfect boyfriend, husband even, to somebody else.  

“Oh, already taken?” 

“No, we’re friends, he’s my soulmate in another way. And I don’t do love.” 

Haechan stares at you, his eyes moving on your face, the small nervous twitching of the corner of your lips, and the frenetic playing of your fingers with the crumbs on the table. “No?” 

“It’s just not for me. Not in a…” you stop, trying to find the words. You don’t have a reason, you just never fell deeply for someone. You surely care for people, and you love your friends, but your relationships never left a deep mark on you. You’re fine with yourself. “I’m good on my own.” 

“Bad experiences?” He tries to guess, thinking he’s going to hit the target. 

You shake your head, sipping on the glass of alcohol and emptying it. “No, I’ve always been like this. I think nobody made a mess of me to leave me hooked on them.” 

He chuckles, and something crosses his face but you don’t catch it, it looks like the smirk of before with a glint in his eyes, but it’s too quick, and you don’t know him at all to read his micro-expressions that well. 

“You?” You ask, feeling a push of curiosity that makes you want to learn more about him. His lips move, but you have no time to carry on the conversation since the others arrived. 

Back then you didn’t know where that night would’ve led you. You had no idea that the person that would’ve made a mess of you was right there by your side. But of one thing you can be sure, it was Johnny’s fault. 

You’re sure that night nothing clicked between you and Haechan; whatever Johnny had in mind, didn’t happen. You two didn’t even exchange numbers, you can’t even remember if you said a proper goodbye to him when you stumbled out of that restaurant hanging from your best friend’s arm. 

Whatever led you here started a few weeks after, probably even a month later, when Haechan had already slipped out of your mind, long forgotten, categorized with those people that if you saw somewhere you were sure you already knew, but couldn’t remember when, why, and how. 

But with him, that didn’t happen. When your eyes met again you felt something. He looked different, probably it was the black hair framing his face perfectly, some make-up on his face too, or the leather jacket he was wearing and the chains around his neck. You remembered him, clear as the sky. But he was even hotter, attracting you without saying a word, not that you would’ve heard. You were at a club, and he was leaning against the bar on the other side of you. But his eyes were speaking louder than words, and your feet followed an invisible path that got you right there, on the stool next to him. 

“Look who’s alive,” Haechan jokes, looking at you up and down, eyes lingering for a bit longer on your exposed thighs, the pink skirt you’re wearing giving him a good view of your skin.  

You chuckle, “why would I be dead?” 

He shrugs, before calling the bartender and ordering you a drink. “Don’t know, you disappeared,” he whispers, looking at you.

“I didn’t know we wanted to keep contact,” you say, meeting his gaze and drifting away immediately, it’s a subtle movement, enough to make it seem like the stocked bottles of different types of liquor are more interesting than him. You never react like that, there’s something different in the air tonight and you’re not sure you want to get drunk on that feeling. 

“You’re right,” he whispers, and your legs brush for an instant as he sits better on the stool. “I find you interesting, so I was looking forward to seeing you again.” 

“Really? After a five-minute talk, I already have that effect on you?” You tease, staring into his brown eyes while you sip on the drink that arrived. 

“You talked all night, to be honest. You seem fun to be with,” he defends himself, but you see in the way he acts that he’s confident, your teasing didn’t make him uncomfortable or anything, and you don’t know where your bickering-flirting method is going to take you. “You’re friends with Jonny, after all.” 

You shake your head, placing the glass down, and then fix your skirt. “So following your logic you should be charming and attractive too?” 

He lifts a hand to stop you, “Never called you charming or attractive, do you think that of me, honey? Want me to think you are?” 

You’re stunned and a bit taken aback because you weren’t expecting that answer, and you don’t even expect your body to light on fire. It’s not really about the words, it’s the way he gets you, like nobody ever did before, like you want him to get you, to keep up with you. And it’s also in the way his body talks, it’s addictive, it is charming, the small fidgeting of the fingers, the bounce of his legs while his legs are a bit spread open and his thighs are perfectly wrapped by those jeans that make you want to do unholy things, and his eyes, that taunting, witty light and the grin on his face. 

You shake your head when you realize that you still didn’t come up with an answer, too lost in his details to think about a comeback, and you’d like to die when his melodious laugh resonates from his chest. 

“Should we order another one to ease the tension?” He doesn’t give you time to fall down into the deep end of your regrets and embarrassment, he’s smiling at you tenderly, and you smile back. 

There’s something different in the air, and you’re sure about it, just like you feel more and more like you shouldn’t get drunk on that feeling. 

But you don’t have a choice when the night drags longer and you’re no longer sitting at the bar but you’re dancing in a corner of the club with his hands all over you. You don’t know how you got there, words turned into teasing, teasing turned into something bigger you didn’t know how to deal with (he is good with words), and to bear with them you thought dancing would’ve drawn his quirky remarks out, but Haechan was also good with his body, and once he had you wrapped around him, you didn’t know how to stop. 

You had lost sight of Johnny, but you couldn’t care about him. Technically you had to go home with him, but you weren’t sure you wanted to. 

“Fuck, girl,” he whispers, “you’re good at this.” 

You roll your eyes, but a laugh rolls out from your chest. “Don’t call me girl, it sounds so condescending and you sound like a creep.” 

“Sorry, prefer other pet names, or is your name fine?” 

“My name is fine.” Your name should’ve been a neutral thing to keep him away from your heart, at least — even if he actually isn’t, he is already deep inside your panties by now. But unfortunately, even the way your name rolls out of his lips makes your heart lose a beat. But you blame it on the night, on the alcohol, and on the fact he’s teasing you, whispering it right next to your ear as if he’s casting a spell on you. 

You need to breathe some fresh air because Haechan is becoming too much. He was already all over you and you aren’t used to this. 

When you open the door of the bar and lean against the wall, the cold of the night envelops you before his warmth washes over you again. 

He doesn’t talk, though. Even if your eyes are closed you can feel he is staring at your face, fearfully at your lips while they puff out white clouds of air. 

“Should we take this home?” Those words seem so loud in the quiet of the night, just a few cars passing by and some people stumbling out of the club. 

You don’t reply, your head turns around to stare at him; he’s serious, partially drunk, but serious. And you are in desperate need of a good fuck. Well, you hope it will be a good one, or probably no, maybe you wish it will be terrible so you can rant about it with Johnny and he will make sure you and Haechan never cross paths again. But right now, you’re not thinking with your brain, and you want him, hoping it will be good, and who knows, maybe you can find your perfect distraction. 

“Your place?” You ask straightforwardly, meeting his eyes. 

“Oh, Mark’s at home,” he says, “my roommate.” 

You sigh, you can’t take him home either. “Well,” you say, rubbing your neck and looking away, “maybe next time, then.” 

“Wait,” he stops you by a hand, “have you ever done it in a car?” 

No, you haven’t, and soon you also find out why you’ve never done it.

“Will you please stop cursing?” Haechan rasps, pulling your panties down, trying to block your leg from kicking him in the face. 

“I don’t think this is the best place we could — fuck,” the words die in your mouth when, after rolling his eyes and gutturally groaning to shut up, his lips close around your pussy. It’s a harsh suck on your clit that gets you silent, head rolling back on the backseat. You think that he might be uncomfortable kneeling between your legs, halfway down and halfway up in the space between the front and back seats, but you honestly don’t care, that’s his problem for choosing this out of all the places, not that you had a better alternative, at least the car is clean, unlike the club bathroom. 

It’s not the first impression people would go crazy to have about themselves, but fuck, Haechan’s good at this. It’s like he has a mission, and probably that’s to make you come in the shortest possible time. 

“Why are you so loud?” You ask. It’s not a complaint, you like hearing him moan against your skin, and as embarrassing as they should be, you enjoy the slurp sounds he’s making while his mouth keeps working wonders on you. But your pleasure-haltered voice doesn’t come out how it sounds in your brain and Haechan growls in annoyance. 

“Why are you still talking?” He scolds, pulling away from you, and the sight of his face covered in your wetness makes your stomach twist and your hips buck searching for more. You need him back right where he was, immediately. “Good, these are the only reactions I want from you,” he comments mockingly with a snotty grin on his face before he leans down and resumes where he stopped. 

This time no more words but curses and moans come out of your mouth. Your head falls back slack, and your fingers graze the backseats of his car, trying to hold onto something as the knot in your stomach tightens more with every lick on your sensitive core. 

“Taste so good,” he hums against you, his hands push your legs up for what he can, and his fingers dip into your soft skin, gripping strongly to keep you in place. The cold of the rings adorning his digits makes you shiver and you’d do anything to have them inside you, but it feels so good that you can’t even beg for that, too focused on what he’s already doing with his lips and tongue. 

“Haechan,” you whisper when he quickens his movements and parts your lips more, starting to also tease your entrance with his tongue and making you feel more exposed. You should be more bothered about the cars — and people — passing next to you in the parking spot, but given by your whimpers and moans, it’s clear you don’t care. Truthfully, it’s like you have completely forgotten where you are, not even the painful reminder of the safety belt’s buckle pressing right against your ribcage seems to remind you that you’re in public and anyone could hear — and for now see too, since the windowpanes aren’t fogged by the heat of your bodies yet. 

“Mhh, mhh,” he sings in response, opening his eyes to meet yours, looking at you with so much intensity you feel your knees tremble and your thighs close around his head. “No, no, no, babe, let me do my job.” 

You groan; the teasing, almost condescending, tone of his voice fuels a fire in you, and the orgasm chokes you up. You curse when your climax breaks through your body and leaves you gasping for air while Haechan continues pleasuring you through your high. His hands cup your ass, kneading it, while his tongue plays with your extra sensitive pussy for some more before he pulls away and stares at the mess between your legs with a proud, playful smirk curling his reddened and puffy lips. 

“So, was it worth it for you, spoiled princess?” 

You scoff, brushing your hair back and some sweat off your forehead, while you try to close your legs because suddenly you feel too exposed to him. “You can’t deny the car is a shitty place.” 

He laughs and then shakes his head. “So shitty you can’t take some more for me?” He tilts his head, raising his brows while he briefly looks down where his hands are patiently waiting for your good to go and get out of his pants. 

“If you’re also so good with your dick I think I can take being cramped up in a sardine can some more,” you joke, struggling to sit up because your legs feel like jelly and you can’t believe he made you feel that good with his tongue only. Your first time together? And it looked like he genuinely loved giving oral? Was all this luck a sign of something tragic imminent? 

You scroll your thoughts out of your mind when you feel the sound of the belt unbuckling and his jeans hitting the floor of the car. 

“Fucking worst idea ever,” he curses as he realizes that he can’t fuck you with the denim mid-thigh. 

“I told you,” you retort, and you’d be entertained to watch him curse and struggle some more, pondering if he should just get rid of his shoes too and be naked while anyone could knock on your window and signal you to the police, but you want him too badly and you can’t wait any longer, so you propose a thing, “Sit here, I’ll ride.” 

His eyes light up and you can see the weight being lifted off his chest as he nods and promptly sits in the middle seat. You stare in silence as he pushes the boxers down his legs too before grabbing a condom and rolling it down his length. You could cry because also his dick looks perfect for now, and you don’t go around saying it often, but it’s literally the perfect size, it won’t hurt you and yet it will fill you amazingly, you just know. 

“Enchanted?” He tsk with a bragging tone, winking while he runs his fingers through his hair.

Your eyes roll in the back of your head, but your pussy clenching is your honest reaction, he’s too hot and uses it to his advantage a bit too often, he can’t keep getting away with it. So, you go on with your lie, trying to appear unfazed, you shake your head and climb on top of him, luckily you decided to go for the mini skirt and not the long pants tonight, so you don’t have access problems. You move your hand to grab the base and lift your hips, only when you feel his tip prod at your entrance you start sinking. 

“Oh, shit,” you moan and your head rolls back when you bottom down completely. You don’t move right away, letting yourself get used to his — in fact — perfect girth and length, feeling his hands wrap around your waist to keep you from falling clumsily. 

Haechan lets out a shaky moan too, and his eyes are closed still when you lift your head and focus on his face, but they snap open when you start moving on him. 

“Fuck, eager?” He groans, biting his lips to don’t be too loud, not that it would do anything when you’re moving so fast on him, your ass smacking hard against his thighs, the sounds filling the vehicle. 

“Wanted to fuck you since I saw you standing at the bar,” you confess nonchalantly, and he thinks you can’t be real, but he has no time to dwell on you and the way you are because you’re taking his breath away. He can’t even lie, he wanted you too since the same moment, if not since the very first night, so having you here feels a bit unreal. 

“You’re so hot,” he whispers, eyes moving on your body, watching your boobs bounce with every thrust through the skimpy top, and your thighs, fuck your thighs, he wants to squeeze them and hold them, and so he does, moving his hands there and massaging the flesh, eliciting more moans from your parted lips. 

Your hands clench on his shoulders, your nails dig into his skin, and he lets out a groan but it surprises you when you realize it’s a moan of pleasure and not pain. Your lips twitch in a smirk before your tongue runs on them. “Like the pain?” 

He glares at you, moving his left hand on your ass, slapping it harshly, smirking in victory when a choked moan falls from your lips and your cunt clenches around him. “You too, it seems,” he winks. 

“Fucker,” you slur out, narrowing your brows, and picking up a different rhythm, grinding your hips on him with force to distract him from your right hand creeping on his neck until it reaches his hair and pulls at it with a tug. 

“Shit,” he moans, thighs flexing under you at the unexpected wave of pleasure he feels rushing through his bones. “I hate you.” 

You don’t reply, you don’t need to, it’s clear he doesn’t, and he’s loving it. So, you give him more, leaning in to leave small bites on his neck and collarbones. You don’t let your teeth sink in his golden sink much, your goal is not to leave ugly blooms of purple and red for everyone to see, you want to feel the shivers on his skin and the hisses hitting your earlobe every time you graze his sensitive skin. 

You pull back with a cuss when another smack lands on your other asscheek, and Haechan chuckles darkly at your surprised face. 

“What, babe? It’s the art of giving and receiving,” he says, trying to sound cocky but his breaths are short and he’s clearly fighting himself back to let out all the moans you’re eliciting from him. 

You groan, and you almost lean in to kiss him, you don’t think it through, your body moves on its own but right when your lips are about to crash you stop, seeing eye to eye. “I hope you’re having fun, then,” you retort, but your voice is shaky — he blames it on the sex — and your heart is almost pumping out of your ribcage, but he doesn’t notice, he doesn’t even notice your trembling hand as you try to fight off the anxiety that being so close to him, to his lips, to his eyes, gives you. 

“So much fun,” he snorts, pulling you closer to him by the waist and you have to pull back swiftly, gasping for air. The car feels suffocating, and when you turn around for a split second you can’t see what’s outside, glasses steamed up. 

“Worried about people that could see us?” He teases you, bringing your attention back on him with his thumb on your clit, smirking proudly when your eyes widen and your thighs tremble, and you have no idea how you’re — not only supporting your body up — but still fucking him. 

“Worried about going home with a corpse in the car,” you mutter when he starts moving his finger on your clit, and presses his hand on the small of your back, and you can almost feel the metal meld in your skin for how hot your body is. 

“Want to kill me? After the best fuck of your life?” He pouts, starting to move up into you, knocking the breath out of your lungs. 

“You wish,” you spit out, but oh god if he’s right. 

“Then I guess you’re not gonna come.” He forces you still down on him, the strong grip on your waist almost painful.  

“What?” Your eyes snap open, and your hands have to hold onto his shoulder because your legs can’t hold you up by themselves anymore. 

“Changed your mind? It’s good?” 

You groan, throwing your head back when he resumes the strokes. “It is good, I just want to slap you for no reason.” Because you are too good, and I might already be addicted and I don’t like how this sounds. 

Haechan grins, loving the way you look like a mess in his arms but still talk back and do anything to pretend that it’s not that good. He’s getting off to that, your blissed face, your low, needy moans, your trembling thighs, and your dripping wet pussy making a mess around him. He’s getting off to you, and your stubbornness that makes all your weaknesses so fucking attractive. 

“Haechan,” you slur out, letting your head fall on his shoulder while your whole body tenses up. You don’t warn him, the orgasm runs through you before you can even process it, and Haechan doesn’t need words anyway because your cunt clenching around him and your nails digging into his back again trigger his own release too. Your moans blend together and bounce around the car while your hips move in messy thrusts for a while more before coming to a stop, slowly letting the quiet of the night around you slip into the car and remind you two what you had just done.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, forcing your torso up, and gulping while you look around and hope you weren’t too lost in the pleasure and didn’t hear police sirens or something. 

“Don’t worry, nobody ever walks around here,” Haechan chuckles, watching the expression on your face change into confusion, leaving the fear behind. “Why do you think I always park here if it’s free?” 

“Oh,” you whisper. “So, you bring a lot of people here. Nice to know,” your comment is sarcastic but you can’t deny the small veil of pettiness and jealousy behind it. 

“Honestly?” He says, shutting down a moan of disappointment when your body leaves his, and you try to look for your purse to find tissues to clean yourself. “I never brought anybody here, not for sex at least.” 

You shouldn’t be relieved, but you are, and you shouldn’t. So you shrug it off and turn around after you pushed the dirty tissue into the empty envelope that used to contain it before. “And for what then?” 

“Occasional smoking weed sessions,” he confesses. “When one of my older friends used to drive me and my roommate here, and we escaped those nights with some other friends. I’m not saying nobody ever passes by, but trust me, they don’t care ‘cause they probably will do the same.” 

You hum before staring at the door handle as if it will open on its own.

“Want me to drop you home? It got late,” Haechan asks now that he’s finally put together again and looks at least decent, the flush on his face is still there and his hair is a mess, but he’s covered. 

You shake your head and bite your thumb before your hand lays on the handle. “No, Johnny will drop me home.” 

“Okay, great. Are you alright?” 

You laugh and look at him with a grin on your face. “Playing boyfriend after you fucked me next to a wood?” 

“Oh, shut up!” He yells, pushing you out, and then following you. “Just wanted to check.” 

“Well, I can walk on my knees, so I guess I’m fine, thank you for your concern, Mr perfect dick.” 

Haechan scoffs, rolling his eyes and walking to the other side, opening the driver’s door and getting halfway in. “Fuck you, Miss I’m not fucking in a car.” 

“Goodnight to you, too, Haechannie. It was lovely making a new acquaintance,” you joke, and you can’t hold back the smile when he starts the car and drives away all while holding his middle finger up for you to see after sending you a flying kiss. 

When you turn around and hug yourself in your jacket to shield yourself from the cold, you curse at your first step. 

You very much can’t walk without looking like you just learnt how to stand on your feet. 

“Fuck you, Lee Haechan.” 

The rules aren’t exactly written anywhere in your house, it would’ve been weird if someone ever entered and found your ‘10 things to don’t do with your fuckbuddy’, not that many people are allowed in your apartment. That is another of your thousands of unwritten rules, it’s not like you don’t have friends, you are pretty chatty with everyone and get to know people easily, but your house is your safe place, and only a few are allowed in. Haechan isn’t one of that. It isn’t because you aren’t close with each other, by now it had been six months since you started this and well, you got to know each other pretty deeply, but you are terrified that your rules aren’t his. 

You know how to move when you go to his place, you have your ways to don’t turn this amazing sex into a catastrophe of broken hearts and shed tears; the rules are simple and clear in your mind. 

Rule number 1: never sleep over. 

Sleeping in the same bed is romantic. Even when there are no feelings involved, even when no ‘I love yous’ can slur out of someone’s mouth. 

Sleeping in the same bed is dangerous. 

You can appear a bit cold and distant, but unfortunately, you aren’t. And as much you tell yourself to don’t catch feelings, you may never know what happens when you fall asleep side by side and two arms start keeping you warm. Sure, you could sleep in the same bed and still stay away from each other, but what if… yeah, you don’t even like to think about the possibility of things that aren’t in your plans to happen. 

Better safe than sorry. 

But that rule doesn’t last long. Haechan is a little too good and you always finish a little too late, so most of the time either your legs don’t allow you to stand on your feet (let alone drive back home), or it is too late and there are no more buses. 

So, rule number 1 became what used to be rule number 2: if you by mistake sleep over, leave before he wakes up. 

This one is pretty easy to follow. Haechan is more gone than you in the morning and as soon as you hear the first ring of your alarm you are on your feet, ready to go on with your routine. Washing your face, fixing your hair, and finding your clothes so you could be out of there as soon as possible. You would’ve dealt with the other hygienic things back at home. You often thought about carrying a small bag with you with your toothbrush, a towel, and some other things, but that felt too domestic. Even if you had to bring it from home, the idea of brushing your teeth at his place, washing your hair, taking a shower, and walking around his house with only a bathrobe, made shivers run down your spine. Too romantic. 

Rule number 3: never invite him over. 

It’s not only for sex-related problems, it’s also because you don’t want him to get too deep into you. You had spent a lot of time to make this house your home, and you are sure that if you let him in after the doorstep, he would’ve got to know you, and you don’t want that to happen. You are close, but not too close, and you want to maintain the line clear. 

Rule number 4: no kisses.  

Strictly no kisses outside of the bed. Your initial rule included also kisses inside of the bedroom — or whatever surface he fucked you against — but after the first kiss he stole from you, well, screw another rule. It is also quite impossible when, for some reason, you two got so primal with each other. It isn’t a fucking session with him if you don’t spend at least five minutes making out while your hands roam each other’s bodies leaving marks behind. Embarrassing, you think every time those flashbacks assault your mind when you are out of the sex haze. 

Rule number 5: keep it private. 

This also was never spoken but it seemed like Haechan got it too. It isn’t to protect the relationship or some other bullshit, you simply can’t stand people’s opinions about you and your life. Also, what is the point of people knowing you two fucked? That’s too personal and invasive. You don’t want to deal with their comments or their misunderstanding of your and Haechan’s friendship. After all, you two are friends before anything else and you act like friends, but as soon as people know something more is going on, their first brilliant idea is to make up crazy theories of how you two look like such a hot couple and would be perfect together. 

And then there are some more, random rules you make up along the way every time you feel he is crossing some lines or you are. 

It might seem strange that there’s no rule implying not falling in love, right? Well, it’s not in your brain because you never even thought that could happen. You’re not even sure you ever loved the people you dated, how could you fall for your friend with benefits? 

Unfortunately, it never crossed your mind that they are not Haechan. 

You’re not sure when it all started. What you’re sure about is that you never planned for anything to start. The fuck in the car had been, unfortunately, really good, but you truly believed you could live without his dick. But maybe there was something else of him you couldn’t live without, and you had no idea about it yet.

“So, uhm, you know Haechan, right?” Johnny mutters in a low voice while you two are walking back home after you convinced him to go out for a run with you instead of going to the gym. 

You sip from your cup of coffee and stare at him with a question mark painted all over your face, is he dumb?  “Mhh, yeah, you got us in touch?” 

“Like him?” 

The coffee almost spurts out of your mouth, but you still try to keep your composure and only choke silently on the sip that you’re swallowing. “He seems like a cool guy.” 

Johnny snorts, “A cool guy, really?” 

“What do you want me to say? I barely know him.” You don’t like the smirk that crosses your friend’s face, you know what kind of grin it is, the smirk of a man that has a plan you know nothing about, and you don’t like not being aware of what is going on. “Johnny?” 

“Well, you could get to know him better?” 

Your eyebrow rises and you almost stop walking, your brain running too fast trying to keep up with your friend’s bullshit. “What do you mean?”

“He asked if I could give him your number, wanted to be sure it was okay with you.”

“He asked about me?” 

Johnny hums, slurping loudly on his straw. Aren’t straws banned? Why does this place still sell them? Just so he can get on your nerves? You are brought out of your straw-hatred thoughts when he speaks again. 

“Told me you talked the other night.” 

“Talked,” you snort before coughing. “I mean, the music was loud, and we could barely make a conversation, but yes, he seems… fine.” 

“He seemed interested.” 

“Well, give him my number, I’m sure he won’t text me anyway.” 

You got Haechan wrong. So many times actually, because every time you expected he would do something, he would always surprise you by doing the opposite and you weren’t sure it was a good thing. 

When you got home after parting your ways with Johnny, the last thing you were expecting was to get out of the shower and see the notification on your phone from an unknown number. 

+ xxx xxx xxx xxx hi, it’s haechan. guess you remember me cause johnny gave me your number 

thanks for giving him the consent btw

we were so busy last night that we didn’t think about this 

You hate to admit it, but you stare at the phone a little too long, why is he so polite about it? Damn, is your bar set so low? Is it really that bad that 90% of the men you met would’ve sent you a dick pic as the first message or a ‘what would you if I was in the shower with you’ text? Probably it is. 

You quickly shake your head, biting your thumb, and get up from the bed, swearing because you already left a wet patch on the duvet. 

“I can’t answer naked,” you whisper, opening the chat and already thinking about what to reply. “I mean, it could come in handy if he asks for nudes but… what the fuck am I talking about?” You curse before throwing the locked phone in the middle of the bed and rushing to the closet to grab some new clothes. 

When you’re all done, in black sweatpants and a white long-sleeve shirt, hair dry, and skincare applied, you slump on the bed and face what has a big chance of becoming your new toy. 

you hi! yes i can’t really forget you

“Oh, jesus, are you kidding me? That’s cheesy. He will never get that I mean I can’t forget about his fingers, tongue, and cock, right?” You huff, throwing your head back, trying to think of something else.

you hi! yes i remember 

“There, so we don’t sound like a pathetic loser,” you hum happily, pressing send. And with that, you might’ve avoided that, but he’s trying to win the race of the best pathetic losers because he replies in less than a minute. 

+ xxx xxx xxx xxx great, feared you forgot about me again 

anyway, how are you? 

You stare at the phone, not because you want to make him wait — you really couldn’t get those tricks, truly sure that if somebody is interested in you they won’t disappear or appear based on how fast or slow you reply — you’re truly shocked because, damn, a small taste of you and he is already a sore loser, and you’re not ready for a half-assed small talk conversation. 

Your fingers start typing anyway. 

you good, went on a run with j

you? 

+ xxx xxx xxx xxx stayed humble and played with some of my friends 

“Oh, he’s a gamer? That’s why he’s good with his fingers,” you let out before you can think of what you’re saying, and also ask yourself since when you started talking to yourself so much. Maybe Johnny is right, being alone is fucking you up. 

you did you win? 

+ xxx xxx xxx xxx of course, babe

do you know whom you’re talking to?

A loser. 

You think but you don’t write it. 

A loser. 

You think of yourself when reading the message, you can hear his honey-like voice whisper ‘babe’ to your ear and your core starts throbbing as if she’s been left starving for years. 

you haha hope you had fun 

Dammit. Since when do you suck so much at holding a conversation? Why aren’t you flirting back? Wait, is he flirting? 

Another groan leaves your lips as you plunge even southern on the bed and lock the phone again, hoping he lost interest in you after that dry-ass message and you can go back to your toys and your ex — update, the sex ranking fell down after Haechan, he wasn’t even good for that anymore. 

But Haechan surprises you, he always does. When your phone dings again you expect to find Johnny congratulating you for being a dumb bitch but instead your jaw falls on the floor. 

+ xxx xxx xxx xxx sure did

btw 

can i take you out tomorrow? johnny told me you stop working at twelve on friday so it shouldn’t be a problem

dinner out? i’ll come to pick you up at 7 

“What the fuck?” Your attempt at don’t look like a crazy single 40 years old woman that fell into madness by being only surrounded by her cats didn’t last long. “What the actual fuck?” 

Is that a date? He asked you how you’re doing for some sort of niceties before dropping the question just like that? Why is Johnny so nosy going around telling your business — mental note; talk to Johnny about shutting his mouth.

you fine but i can drive there 

+ xxx xxx xxx xxx no dw, it’s a surprise, i’ll drive you

you thanks, i promise i won’t make you wait

+ xxx xxx xxx xxx can’t wait to see you 😊 

You snort, fucking loser, before going to his contact. 

‘pathetic loser’ was added to contacts. 

Haechan surprises you even on your first date, or whatever you could call that. As sweet as he seems, you deep down — precisely between your legs — hope it is a dick appointment, but since you aren’t with your car you aren’t so sure about that, he for sure isn’t entering your place that night. 

You are punctual, already waiting for him outside of your house, and immediately entering on the passenger side when he stops on the sidewalk. 

“Am I late?” Haechan asks when he sees you step in so promptly. 

“No. Why wait, though? See that the first time it was Johnny’s fault?” 

Haechan chuckles before giving you a brief look, studying your red dress, the heels, and the small bag, and then starts the car again. “It’s always Johnny’s fault.” 

Yeah, you totally agree.

“So, where are we going?” You ask, hating the silence that’s filling the car. After the small talks, you stopped conversating, and even if it wasn’t awkward you didn’t want your brain to travel to places. 

“I told you, it’s a surprise.” 

“I don’t really like surprises,” you confess, turning your gaze to him, leaving the city behind you.  

“Damn, you bite back,” he whispers, and you blink in surprise. 

“Am I too honest?” 

“Don’t know, I don’t know you yet.” 

You think for a second that you should end this as soon as possible, he seems too sweet and even if you don’t do it on purpose, you know you can come off as too edgy at times. Not everyone likes being told things to their faces or having set boundaries they couldn’t cross, but you mean no harm, you just want your space protected. 

“It wasn’t supposed to come out harshly, I’m sorry,” you say, trying to meet his eyes and when he stops at the traffic lights, he turns to stare at you. “It was kinda a ‘get to know me�� information and I sounded like a bitch.” 

Haechan laughs, shaking his head, fingers tapping on the wheel, probably to release the tension in his muscles. “I wasn’t offended, I just wasn’t expecting you to be so upfront. People… lie.” 

“I hate liars,” your voice comes out just like before and you curse under your breath.  

“Another ‘get to know me’ information?” He questions, his voice playful while a gentle smile curls his lips. 

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. “Add it to the list, it might be helpful if you don’t want to end up on my blacklist.” 

The biggest surprise Haechan gifts you is that… he is not an asshole. 

You expected he would say something during dinner to make your pussy dry, brain dead and stomach convulsing with the urge of puking, but… he didn’t. Nothing dumb, insensitive, tone-deaf, cringy, or creepy came out of his mouth. 

Even when he flirted, he knew how to do it right. He was so fucking good at it, being so subtle he left you speechless and warm, making you dizzy, and, after the tenth eyebrow rise and lick of his lips, even wet. 

And he was funny. Quickly going down the memory lane you could recall that the only man that genuinely made you smile so much was Johnny. 

And well, you’re not quite sure how to feel about this. 

The only thing you feel is the disappointment when he drops you back home and you know you won’t get a good fuck out of that — amazing — night. 

“So, did you have a great time?” He asks, rubbing his hands together to warm them while he turns his torso to stare at you, and you see his eyes linger on you a bit more, probably wanting to take in for the last time how beautiful you looked that night, not that he ever stopped reminding you.  

“Yeah,” you whisper, almost shily. “It was fun, and the food was so good.” Yeah, the food. Not you. Absolutely not you. Never you. 

Haechan smiles, nodding. “Glad you had fun; I’ve never been there, so it was a shot in the dark.” 

“Mhh,” you hum, staring at his lips, thinking how badly you want them on you before shaking your head. “It was a good shot in the dark.” 

“Yeah, sometimes I don’t make a mess,” he jokes, and you let out a laugh too. Good for you, you think. You always make a mess, no matter how hard you try to avoid it. 

“Well, it’s… kinda late,” you start saying, rubbing your arms with your palms, and tapping your heels, hoping he would make a move and drive you to his place, as if he could mentally get you and know that you’re insane and there are only five people that can set foot in your house. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, looking at you. Probably thinking the same, it’s only logical for him to expect you to be the one to make the first move, your place is right behind you, and you only have to ask him to go inside. But you don’t. And he doesn’t even think about kissing you, of course, he doesn’t, you didn’t even let him kiss you while he was fucking you, he’s sure you would slap him if he only moved closer now. 

“‘Kay,” you sigh, undoing the belt and placing your hand on the handle, “I’ll go in. Thanks for the night, the drive, the food, and the laughs.” A tender smile is sitting on your face when you say that to him before making your way out, bending to say goodbye again, just in time to get the thin veil of slight disappointment and sadness in his eyes. 

“That’s what matters,” he smiles. “We can do this again. If you want to,” he adds, panicking, almost as if he had asked to marry you just to regret it two seconds later. 

“Yeah, we can,” you smile. “It’s pretty chilly out here, so,” you shrug, “goodnight?” 

“Can’t wait to see you again, then. Goodnight,” he says before waving at you. 

You see he waits for you to get inside before his car starts again to head home and you find yourself grinning like a fool when the door closes behind you.  

Yeah, he’s definitely a loser.  

You could call that the start of your friendship, but surely not where the benefits started. Actually, the whole sex thing took a toll for a few weeks where you only got to know each other and hung out casually. You can’t lie, you were sad about it, and you thought you screw it all up that night when you didn’t let him in; nothing could’ve gone wrong for one time you let him in, right? He would’ve fucked you into the weekend, making you see heaven, and then you could’ve kicked him out of the house, right? But you didn’t, and now you are here, absorbed in your torments, trying to find a way to get back to where you started, possibly without ruining your friendship, of course. 

You know the chemistry between you two is still there, but it’s like he’s holding back. You surely aren’t; flirting shamelessly with him, sometimes even in front of your — now common — friends (no need to worry about Johnny, he knows you can flirt with plants when you’re in a peak of insanity and good mood, nothing of your remarks is ever serious — it is with Haechan, but he doesn’t know — you just have zero skills of keeping your tongue inside your mouth and your thoughts inside your brain). 

So, you understand that you need to make a bolder move, the dinners and the meets up around town aren’t working, and your move is Johnny and another night out at the club. 

It works. After dancing together almost all night in a corner of the club, you find yourself pressed against a wall while his hands run on your body and his lips — shily — kiss your neck, and you know you got him. 

“Your place,” you slur, pushing him away, and grabbing his hand to drag him to get your jackets. 

“But Mark’s at —” 

“As far as I am concerned, Mark can listen to us all night, I don’t care. We’re not fucking in the car.” 

“Your place. What about your pla—” he tries to argue but your glare when you turn around and you’re now face to face stops him. 

“Your place, now.” 

He’s good at following orders, or maybe you’re just scary when you want to, but whatever the motive, all that matters to you is that after a fifteen minutes drive — the longest of your life — and a few minutes walk from the car to the apartment, you have Haechan buried between your legs, eating you out as if that’s what he was sent on earth to do. 

You wish you could care about trying to keep it low and don’t moan loudly for Mark, but when Haechan slips two fingers in you and starts sucking on your clit with more strength, his poor roommate slips out of your mind completely. 

“Fuck,” you moan as your head rolls back, rubbing against the pillows of his bed, and your legs part unconsciously. 

“You’re so embarrassingly wet,” Haechan notices, standing on his elbow and licking his lips clean with a flick of his tongue. “Bet even Mark can hear how wet you are,” he mocks, quickening the pace of his fingers inside your cunt, causing the lewd sounds of your wetness to be even louder. 

“Shut up!” You groan, slamming your hand next to you on the mattress before your fist moves in a ball and traps the sheets between your fingers. 

Haechan grins, and a chuckle rolls from his lips while his eyes skim your face, meeting your eyes that are — pathetically — trying to glare at him. “You’re so pretty like this, you know?” 

Another annoyed grunt slips out of your mouth, and you move your head to the side to avoid seeing his face. 

But Haechan clicks his tongue and pulls out of you, making you whine and move your hand to bring his fingers right where they were. He’s faster than you when he sits up and cups your face with his clean hand as his fingers plunge back into you with no warning, cutting the air in your lungs and causing your eyes to flutter shut. 

“Keep your eyes on me,” he orders and you unwillingly open them again, locking them in his. “That’s it, pretty girl.” 

The way those two words roll from his lips shouldn’t make your stomach twist, but they do, you prefer blaming it on the way his fingers are pumping in and out of you, brushing against your sweet spot and driving you closer to the climax second after second. 

“I’m...” you mumble, chest lifting erratically because the eye contact is driving you more insane than his hand in you, “...close.” 

The grin that appears on his face is so slappable but you have no strength to lift your hand and do anything, and Haechan can see it in your eyes. That’s how he wants you, speechless. 

“Come for me, babe,” he urges you, pressing his thumb on your clit and moving it in circles. 

“Fuck,” you rasp out, your hand reaches his wrist, and he shakes his head, tsking. 

“No, you’re not pushing me away,” he says, but he doesn’t move your hand away, you are not even trying to push him off, well, you are, but the attempt is laughable and embarrassing. 

“Too much, too much,” you cry out, voice coming out muffled by his hand still wrapped around your chin. “Haechan, please.” 

“Come, we both know you can take much more, don’t play with me,” he growls, leaning in to trap your lips in a messy, heated kiss. “Be good and come for me, would you?” 

You moan and hum against his lips, your hand around his wrist tightens the grip but not to push him away, to hold onto him while his fingers move even faster in and out, your hips buck up and your feet press against the mattress while he keeps you down. You feel like you can’t breathe when the orgasm breaks through and you see stars, shaking under him as you feel the grin on his face as he muffles your whimpers in his mouth. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cry out, slapping his hand away when he doesn’t stop moving after your high dimmed down. “Haechan, fucking stop.” 

He laughs deeply and stands away from you, his fingers slip out of you but soon after they’re inside his mouth as he licks them clean while staring straight into your eyes. 

“You will drive me insane,” you mutter low enough only for you to hear and Haechan raises a brow, silently questioning you to repeat, but you won’t tell him that. “Fuck me,” you request instead, sitting and grabbing the hem of your shirt to lift it off your head, throwing it around the room. 

“Hey, I wanted to undress you,” he pouts, watching you unclasp the bra that meets the same fate as the shirt soon after. 

“Too late, should’ve thought about it before.” 

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t move from his position, too busy staring at your naked form. “Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful.” 

Your eyes roll back in your skull while a heavy sigh leaves your lips. “Great, can you fuck me, please,” your voice is venomously nice, and gets him on top of you in a second. 

“Though it was too much? Are you sure you can take it?” 

“If you don’t fuck me, I’ll ask Mark to do it and will make you watch while you’re tied to a chair.” 

He whistles with enthusiasm, raising a brow, “That sounds pretty hot, you know? But I don’t think Mark’s the type to enjoy these things. Should we ask somebody else?” 

“Is there anything that is actually a threat to you or are you so horny that anything is a possibility?” 

“Don’t know,” he whispers with a light tone as he leans in and starts kissing your neck, moving down until his lips wrap around your hard nipple, sucking harshly enough to make you hiss before he keeps talking, “isn’t life boring if you don’t at least try everything once?” 

Your stare could burn him alive. “I swear this is the last time you’re fucking me.” 

“Oh, shut up,” he groans, kissing you to silence you. “Anything legal and not dangerous.” 

“I don’t care about that,” you almost scream. “Just fuck me, now.” 

“Ask nicely,” he coos, caressing your cheek with the back of his index finger and you glare at him. 

“Mark.” 

“Fine,” he rolls his eyes and before you can say another word he slips into you. Your teeth trap your lower lip to muffle a high moan to be heard in the entire house and your nails dig into his back. “Gave you what you wanted.” 

“Not yet,” you whisper through gritted teeth as your body gets used to his size. “Fuck me.” 

“As you wish,” he replies, adjusting better between your legs to find the right position, and after a few seconds, he’s thrusting into you. This is ten times more comfortable than the fuck in the car and you can’t believe it’s happening again. “Yeah, definitely like you better like this,” he comments with a cocky smirk, his eyes are still on your face, and his hands are holding tight on your hips. 

“Like you better when you fuck me and keep your mouth shut,” you bite back. You don’t know why you two get so heated up during sex — fair, two times is not enough to draw conclusions and come up with statistics, but to you, it’s clear this is the way you two talk to each other when things get spicy — when you talk normally, you’re not like this. 

Haechan rolls his eyes and grunts as he pushes with more vigor inside you, swiftly pushing your thighs against your chest with his body, and blocking your wrists over your head. His lips crush messily against yours, trapping them in a rough kiss. 

Your eyes roll in the back of your head when he hits the sensitive spot inside you, and your legs immediately wrap around his waist to keep him close to you. You haven’t died yet — obviously — but this feels like the closest thing to heaven — you doubt you’ll go to heaven, to be honest — but anyway this; his hips rolling against you so perfectly, his hand on your hip and the other around your wrist, his lips on your neck and collarbones, and his cock buried deep into you, this is a taste of heaven, the higher you ever felt and probably will ever feel. And it feels humiliating that he’s got you like this after the second time together, but you don’t want to fight the feeling. 

And you don’t. You moan, even letting out chants of his name shamelessly, and he has to remind you with an amused grin that you’re not alone. Mark is right next door and as funny as it might be, Haechan is not sure he wants to share you in any kind of way, no, not even the way you whimper and squirm under him. 

“Keep quiet, babe,” he hushes you, kissing you again, and you have no strength to push him off. Maybe you can get used to his kisses, after all, it’s just sex, and for some spell, Haechan turns everything he does into sex, so a few heated kisses while he pounds into you until the bed squeaks won’t make you fall head over heels for him. 

You nod, eyelids fluttering as you try to focus on him. His brown hair is falling on his forehead, and there’s a cute, sexy, frown in the middle of his forehead, while his eyes are staring into yours, and you feel the knot in your stomach tug strongly, making your breath cut short. He is so intense, it’s like he can reach so deep into you and discover parts of you that are still untouched. 

“Haechan, fuck,” your voice gets higher when he pulls your hips closer to him and changes angle to fuck into you better, “I won’t last.” 

He snorts, “Good.” 

“No, no good, I…” I want you. I want you all night. I want you all over me until your smell consumes mine. You want to scream but it’s too pathetic. You never went this far for some sex. But nobody ever felt this good either. 

“I can fuck you all night,” he chuckles while his thumb finds your clit and starts torturing you even more. “Don’t believe me?” 

You groan. You do. You just know. He’s been sent by the gods at this point and you’re sure you won’t find flaws in him anytime soon, but you can’t. You can’t stay the night. You can’t let him get so deep into your skin so soon. 

“Come,” he urges you, “don’t hold back.” 

Your jaw tenses before going slack when he flicks your clit just right, triggering your orgasm. It’s intense, running into you from head to toe with so much force that you have to slap your hand on your mouth to avoid waking Mark up. You think Haechan’s close too, you can hear how his moans got lighter and whinier, but once again, he surprises you. 

You don’t have time to complain when Haechan pulls away, leaving you empty. He turns you around, lightly slapping your asscheek to order you to get on your knees while your shoulders stay flat on the mattress, you wouldn’t have the strength to stand on your arm even if you wanted to. 

“Want one more?” He asks against your ear, teasing his tip against your soaked entrance and brushing it against your throbbing clit in quick motions. 

You hum, nodding against the pillow, “Please, please, fuck me again.”

You almost feel the smirk against your face before he fills you once more, stretching your sensitive pussy, making more of your cum drip out of you. 

Your eyes fall shout, a raspy, low moan slips out of your lips, this position is making you feel him even more as the first orgasm has enhanced your senses. You feel like a puddle under him. 

“You feel so good, baby,” he groans, throwing his head back as he picks up the rhythm of before, holding onto your hips so tightly his nails sink into your skin, making you hiss in pleasure. “So warm and wet for me.” 

You hide your head between the pillows, biting back the moans, wondering why Mark didn’t push down the door already because there’s no way he’s not hearing all of this. But for some reason, the idea of him listening turns you on even more. 

And it’s like Haechan gets it. He leans back against you, brushing your hair away so his lips can be right against your earlobe. “What are you thinking, babe?” 

“Ma-mark,” you slur through ragged breaths, “not him, not like,” the words die in your throat, afraid he might misunderstand, “what if he knows?” 

Haechan’s laugh hits you straight to the core, it’s deep and mocking, and you clench harder around him. “Oh, honey,” he whispers, and his voice feels like honey, thick and velvety, “I think he knows.” 

You shake your head, trying to convince yourself he might be a heavy sleeper, but your body is following another direction, feeling excited just at the idea, so you push your ass up. 

“You can’t keep quiet, you’re so fucking loud it’s like you want to get caught,” he taunts, smacking the side of your thighs, smirking when your muscles tense in response. “Want him to know I’m making you feel this good?” 

You deny with a movement of your head, but words fail to come out because you feel on the edge again and you don’t know how much longer you can last. 

Haechan clicks his tongue and then presses his chest against your back. “Let’s see if this can keep you quiet.” The last thing you expect are his fingers pushed into your mouth, but after the first surprise, you don’t even complain. Your mouth wraps around his three digits and you start to suck on them eagerly, receiving a moan of approval from him. “Fuck, you’re so fucking hot.” He knows he won’t last when your eyes flutter at the compliment and you start sucking on them even harder, he can only think about you taking his cock instead. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he mumbles, as the images in his fantasy and the one in front of his eyes start having the best on him, hips starting to lose control, “I’m close.” 

You start fucking back into him, and that’s the last thing he needs to come. His moans are higher, and when you turn your head to the side you see his trying to hold them in, biting his lips and gripping your hips tighter with the hand that is not in your mouth. 

The sight of him losing his mind is enough to make you lose yours. You’re in ecstasy as your orgasm pervades your body. 

“Shit,” Haechan growls one last time, his fingers slip out of your mouth and he pulls out of you before he’d like to, squirting some of his cum on your ass and thighs. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry.” 

You barely realize what he’s talking about, but honestly, you don’t care. For what you’re concerned, after the fuck you had, he could’ve come all over you and you wouldn’t have minded.

“It’s fine,” you breathe out. Your eyes fall shut as you focus on your erratic breath, feeling him slump next to you without any other words. 

“Are you okay? Was it too much?” He asks, and at first, you think he’s bragging but when your eyes meet, you realize he’s being genuine. So you nod and beam at him as the only reply you can give him at the moment. 

You lie in silence for a bit, your bodies are not touching and you can only feel his heavy breath calm down with yours as you both wait for your body to cool down again. You don’t wait to be fully recovered to stand up and slip out of the covers, too afraid that sleep will take over you and block you at his side. 

“What are you doing?” He questions, staring at you with an arm under his head. 

“Putting my clothes back on,” you reply with a lift of shoulders as if that wasn’t obvious. You try to search for a bin where you can throw the tissues you used to clean yourself but you can’t find any, so you remind yourself to search in the kitchen before leaving.  

“You can wear something mine.” 

“I would have to hand it back next time we see each other, I can survive in this a bit longer.” 

“You’re sleeping with those clothes?” Confusion blooms on his face as he watches your shaky hands struggle with the zip. 

“No, I’ll change myself into my nightgown.” 

A frown almost connects his brows before he voices out his doubts, “I don’t have it here.” 

“I’m leaving,” you say with a hint of annoyance, he thought you were sleeping there, really? 

“Leaving? You can stay.” 

You don’t answer immediately, grabbing your phone to book a ride home, and then reply while shoving the phone in your bag. “No, thanks.” 

“Do I have to drive you home?” 

“No, I’ve already called a Uber.” 

You see Haechan’s mouth move but nothing comes out and he only stretches his limbs. “I think that might take a while to arrive, though. It’s cold outside.” 

“It’s spring,” you say, walking to the mirror on wobbly legs to make sure you look decent, fixing your air and clothes. 

“It’s still cold. At least wait in the living room,” he proposes, now sitting on the mattress as he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. 

“I’ll be fine,” you smile, turning around, and holding your bag on your shoulder. “I survived walking in a wood at night when I was fifteen, I can survive waiting under your building’s porch.” 

“You’re always so — so,” he sighs, shaking his head, giving up finding an adjective to describe you. 

You chuckle, “Always? And you don’t know me yet.” 

“It sounds like a threat,” he says, running his fingers through his hair. 

You open the door, and take a step outside, only showing him your face as you wink, “Oh, it is.” 

Probably there was some magic in the air — the polluted air of the city made some kind of magic happen — but from then on, Haechan stopped holding back. He wasn’t shy when he texted you ‘house empty, wanna come over?’ leaving no doubts about what was going to happen if you said yes. You found it funny how he treated Mark like his parents, especially after you were sure he heard you fuck that night, but of course, you said yes. 

pathetic loser dinner at that trashy fast food place with the arcade and then dessert at my place😉 

And you said yes. 

pathetic loser i’m busy this friday but marks’s out saturday so we have the whole day to ourselves 

And you said yes. p.s: he made you come like ten times, so it was worth it. 

pathetic loser wanna skip the group hang out and fuck around? 

And you said yes. 

You kept saying yes until you also started asking, and he obviously didn’t decline. It flowed and usually, you didn’t like to leave things unnamed, but you were terrified that if you asked, ‘what are we?’ he would’ve run away scared or, worse, confessed with his big brown eyes and that fucking glint they had inside. 

You didn’t need him anyway to know what you were. Friends with benefits, fuck buddies, sex partners, or any other name you want to give it, you were that. Nothing more and nothing less. 

It still wasn’t your typical thing. You two never sat down and discussed anything, your dear boundaries were nowhere to be found, or better, they existed, somehow he respected them, but you never said them out loud. Not that it was hard to get them, when you never invited him home, never leaned in for a kiss, and never stayed over, he knew your limits and that he had to respect them. 

So, everything worked perfectly fine. 

Until your rules started to be broken one by one before you could even notice, or better, before you could care to fix all the changes that were happening in your life because of Haechan. 

pathetic loser hey

me and the boys are going on a trip to the coast this weekend 

wanna come along? 

you who are the boys? 

pathetic loser  yes, johnny is coming 

You roll your eyes at the screen before tapping a reply.

you didn’t ask that : / 

but yes, need some time off 

you will pick me up, right? 

pathetic loser  you’re so pretentious

don’t you think i should propose to you to come pick you up like a gentleman? 

you fine gentleman, pick me up at my place, see you this friday! 

pathetic loser  i can’t stand you 

It’s Johnny’s fault. It’s his house on the coast, his parents’, to be precise. It’s his fault if right now you have Haechan so close and can’t make a move because whatever is going on between you two is a secret. 

You’re still not sure why it wasn’t Johnny the one to invite you there, you wonder if maybe Haechan slipped and confessed to him that something is going on between you, but you’re sure that Johnny would’ve already bragged to you about how he made the ‘perfect match’ or how it was thanks to him you were finally getting laid, surely after screaming at you because ‘we never keep things a secret from each other’. 

You’re brought out of your thoughts when a ball hits you and you lift your head to see Mark running to you, mumbling apologies as if he had stabbed you. 

“I’m fine, it’s just a ball,” you smile to reassure him and lift a hand to cover your eyes because the sun is annoying you. Unfortunately, the sun is not blinding you enough for your wishes because you can perfectly see Haechan playing volleyball a few meters in front of you. You’re sitting on the sand, a sundress on you, while the others left you to play. You weren’t in the mood, too busy letting your thoughts get the best of you, a mix of lewd images of what you would’ve done to the man you couldn’t drift your eyes from and sadness looming over your head like a cartoon cloud. 

“Hey, want something to drink?” You’re still so caught up that you don’t realize Haechan is talking to you. His blouse is big and covers his body, only leaving his arms exposed and a small portion of his chest — he doesn’t like to show much of his body — and you get lost in his sun-kissed skin another time, but when he calls your name, you shake your head and cough, trying to play it cool. 

“Yes, what?” 

“We’re grabbing something to drink, want some?” 

“Oh, yeah, some tea.” 

“Got it,” he says as if he’s accepting a commend and waves you goodbye before running to the others and you follow him with your gaze until he gets out of your line of view. 

You sigh, fanning yourself because even if luckily today the weather is not too hot, you still can’t stand the heat sticking to your skin. You’ve pondered before about jumping in the sea and freshening up, but if just seeing the others having fun had brought back too many — painful — memories, you’re not so sure you can take having ‘fun’ in person.  

“Here’s your tea,” Haechan says after a while with a bottle in hand, once again pulling you out of the tornado of melancholia that was drowning you. 

You smile, lifting your head and grabbing the drink from his hand. “Peach? How do you know it’s my favorite?” 

“You told me,” he replies, sitting next to you, a bit too close, but you don’t scoot over, you like the way your legs brush against each other and also the fact he decided to sit with you and not with your group of friends near the volleyball net. 

“Did I? When?” 

Haechan laughs at the surprised expression that creates a cute, small crease on your forehead and says, “the few times we had a serious conversation that didn’t include dirty talking?” 

You roll your eyes, open the lid and take a sip of the cold liquid, immediately feeling better. “You make it sound as if we don’t hang out normally.” 

“We do,” he replies but it’s like he’s not done, as if there’s something more he wants to tell or confess. He stops for a second, sipping on his bottle while staring at the sea at the horizon before resting his forearm on his knees and sighing, “but you never say anything about yourself.” 

You chuckle nervously, fingers fidgeting with the cap of the bottle. “What’s to know about me?” 

“Everything. You’re a secret.” 

You can hear the bittersweetness in his tone, and if you’d stare for a second more, you would also catch it in his eyes, but you dismiss him and the things he’s silently telling you with his body. You sneer under your breath and shake your shoulders before words roll from your mouth. “Secrets are exciting.” 

He nods, pressing his lips in a thin line to hold in a groan of disagreement. “When you know them and you have to keep them away from the rest of the world.” 

“You want to keep me away?” You joke tenderly, meeting his brown eyes, even warmer and more welcoming now that the sunlight is reflecting in them. 

He laughs, shaking his head. This time he’s the one diverting his gaze, the next words that are about to come out sound too vulnerable in his head and he doesn’t want to imagine how heavy they will sound out loud. “I’m just saying, I would keep some things of you only for me to know.” 

You hum, nodding while staring at the sand, showing nonchalance even if there’s a circus in your stomach. Maybe you can give him something without breaking another one of your rules, but you soon realize that he already knows the small things about you that you told him to get to know each other. He knows where you work, he knows you have a brother, and you know he has two and a sister. He knows you once found a grass snake in a park and took it home because you wanted a snake pet and your father almost threw you outside (affectionately, no kids or animals were hurt, you just had to give it back to nature). He knows your birthday and your favorite color. Isn’t that enough? 

“There’s nothing to know about me.” 

“Oh, yeah, you’re boring, aren’t you?” He mocks with sarcasm and his head falls back in annoyance. “You don’t strike as the bland type of person so try again.” 

“I just don’t get what you want to know. Ask me questions and I’ll answer.” And I’ll lie, that’s what you truly think. 

But Haechan shakes his head, gulping down another mouthful of water. “Nevermind, you don’t get it.” 

No, you don’t get it, or maybe you’re pretending not to get it, that he wants to know you. He wants to learn by watching, by studying you, but you always slip away, you don’t let him close. He doesn’t care about questions, this is not a quiz for him, but maybe that’s the fun of you. He has to work extra hard. And he will.

 “It’s pretty here.” Haechan’s voice fills the night air, it’s chilly outside, and you’re sitting on the small sofa under the porch. There’s nobody but the two of you at home, the others decided to go out and visit the small coastal town at night, but you were too tired to drag your feet any longer, and honestly, you thought you were all alone.

You hum, moving to the side to leave him some space next to you. “We used to come here during summer,” you let out, and it’s impossible to control the smile on your face when you remember your childhood with your and Johnny’s family. “I always sat here at night, I liked the quiet of the beach and the lights of the towns of the coast. My brother didn’t get it,” you chuckle, shaking your head, “he was too busy playing with Johnny. Even when they stopped being best friends, it was like something shifted in summer. Something about this place feels… different.” 

Haechan smiles, he’s not staring at the view, his eyes are locked on you. He thinks that you are different here. He can’t say you two aren’t close, but it’s clear you never let him too close, and he’d like to know why. He knows exactly where your relationship stands, it’s just sex, and he’s fine like this, really, but he wonders if you only do it to protect your heart from unwanted inconveniences or if you don’t trust him enough to let him in. He often thought about prying it with Johnny, but he knows that as soon as your name will slip out of his lips, Johnny will twist everything, and probably that would drift you even further from him. You never had a conversation but it’s clear you both want to keep this between you. 

“It feels like the world stops here,” he says instead to don’t let the conversation die before moving his gaze away, hearing you hum an affirmative response. 

It really feels like time has stopped, and there’s undefined electricity running between you, it’s the same as always and it’s different at the same time. 

“Johnny didn’t tell me about this,” you breathe out; you know it could end in a catastrophe, but you need answers. “Did he ask you to invite me, or did you do it?” 

Haechan doesn’t answer right away, you see him gulp and you fear the worst. There it is, the confession you don’t need, you don’t want it, because he is the best sex you ever had, nobody ever made you feel like that, he completely unplugs your brain and for a few hours, you can leave all your problems at the door, and also because after all, he’s a good friend, and love would screw this all up. 

“He told me I could invite some other of our friends,” he replies, “and I asked about you, and he told me I could ask. He was going to invite you, but I did it first,” he explains, playing with a loose string of his shorts that are barely covering his thighs. “Why?” 

You shrug, it’s the only thing you can do, a breath of relief would be too obvious. “Nothing, I was just wondering. Usually, he organizes these things with me.” 

“Oh,” he whispers, “I think that initially it was supposed to be a boys’ thing only, then Mark brought up Minjeong and here we are.” 

You know he doesn’t mean it that way, but that ‘here we are’ makes shivers run down your spine. Because here you are. This is the closest thing to breaking rule number 3 and 4 and so many others. It’s just the two of you, watching the sunset while the sea plays its melody just for you to listen. This is romantic. He’s not fucking you shamelessly under the porch where everyone can see. You are laughing together, passing a bottle of soju, and sharing touches that feel too intimate. You can’t break any more rules. 

“I was thinking — oh, shit,” Haechan mumbles before you shut him up by jumping on him and crashing his lips on yours, your fingers locking immediately in his hair and pulling it back harshly. “Wow, fuck, needy tonight?” 

You don’t reply, your lips move down to bite his neck while your hips start grinding on him. 

“Calm down, damn, I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles, wrapping his hands on your waist now that the shock is gone, “and don’t mark me, you don’t want the others to find out, right?” 

No, you don’t. Or maybe you do, maybe it’s time for something to happen and break you and him apart. Cause you feel you’re going down a slippery slope and you don’t like this. Maybe you should fuck this whole thing up like you always do. But you can’t, deep down, you don’t want to. 

“It’s only been a week,” Haechan mumbles through the kiss. “You’re so needy.” 

“Can you just shut up?” You argue, pressing your hips down on him, smirking when you feel his dick start to press up against you. “So, you do want me.” 

He snorts, “Of course, I do. I wasn’t rejecting, I was just pointing out — fuck,” he whimpers breathlessly when you bite his lips and his nails dig in the exposed skin of your back, your crop top leaving so much bare. 

“Want you,” you say as if you have to make it any more obvious. 

“It’s a bit too public, don’t you think so?” 

You shake your head, moving a hand between your bodies to open the button of your shorts but he stops you again, forcing your hands behind your back, catching you by surprise. 

“I’d love to fuck you right here, in front of the sea and the sunset, but if one of our friends comes back before time, we’re fucked with no way out, so… can we take it inside?” 

You nod, mumbling a faint positive answer, thinking of getting up and running upstairs, but Haechan has no intention of breaking the contact. He lifts you up after freeing your hands so you can secure them around his neck and then pushes the front door open. 

“Let’s give it a turn of keys,” he says, twisting the keys in the lock so you’ll have extra time if by the time they’ll come back you won’t be done. You wait patiently, enjoying the way it feels to be in his arms, and let him carry you on the second floor where the bedroom you share is. Was it a great thing or a curse, you still can’t tell, but for now it seems like a good thing. 

When you cross the doorframe, the clothes are on the floor in less than a minute and your bodies are already tangled in the bedsheets, hands running on each other with eager and soft whimpers filling those four walls. 

You don’t keep track of how long you spend kissing — or eating each other — but you’re sure a few minutes pass by of you just grinding against each other while your tongues and lips meet in a mess. 

“Fuck,” Haechan whispers, his hot breath puffing against your warm, wet, now plumper, lips. “Com’ere.” He lays on the bed, patting the space next to his face and you stare at him with confused eyes. He sighs, “On my face, honey. On my face.” 

“Oh.” 

He quirks a brow. “You were so eager before, what happened?” 

You shake your head, moving closer to him, planting your knees at the sides of his chest. “I was, I mean, I am, I want you.” 

“So? On my face.” 

“I — I don’t…” 

Haechan’s eyes roll back and a heavy annoyed groan comes out of his mouth, “Oh God, don’t tell me your ex never done that?”

“Hyuck, he would rarely eat me out while I was laying, do you think he would make me sit on his face?” 

“Asshole.”  

“Haechan!” 

“He’s an asshole, you know it! But I’m not, so come here and sit on your throne.” 

“You didn’t just call your face my throne?” Your tone is a mix of annoyance and incredulity, but you actually found that too hot to handle. 

“I very much did. And now, do I have to drag you or will you fucking sit?” 

You gulp, nodding swiftly, but your legs are slower at moving next to his face and he doesn’t like your hesitation. You yelp when his hands grab your ass and your thigh and pull you right where he wanted you. 

“Was it that hard?” He asks teasingly, almost growling so close to your skin, before winking at your flustered face. 

The sight of him under you, and his breath colliding with your pussy, make your knees tremble already. “No — no.” 

“Good. But you still didn’t listen,” he says sternly.

“I did, I’m on your face,” you defend. 

“Are you sitting?” 

“No.” 

“What are you waiting for? Do I have to do everything tonight?” His tone is getting lower, and the edge of anger in it causes your pussy to clench around nothing. 

“But I will… I will break your neck.” 

“And I will die like a man,” he insists, challenging you with a glare.

“No, it’s —” 

His mad, animalistic, growl on your pussy when he forcefully slams you on him makes you choke on a moan and throw your head back while your hands automatically grab the headboard to hold onto something. Haechan tends to always be messy when he eats you out, he never does things you don’t like, but he has to make sure you know he’s enjoying it, so he’s always a bit messier and louder than he has to be. But this time he’s taking his everything to let you know how badly he wants you. His fingers are planted on your skin, his nose is pressing right against your clit while his tongue moves to leave kitten licks that quickly turn into open-mouthed kisses. 

“Fuck,” you moan, hands clenching tight around the bar, and head falling down to see him. His eyes are closed and he’s having the time of his life as he sucks at your clit and lips with eagerness. 

“You’re so hot from here,” he mumbles, stopping only for a second to catch his breath before he resumes his movements. His pink muscle moves down, teasing your entrance, slurping up the juices that are dripping out of you, and when your thighs clench around his head in response, he groans gutturally.

You think you hurt him and try to pull up, but he forces you down with strength. 

“Don’t fucking move,” he growls, glaring at you, and you can only hum in reply, feeling your body melt under his skilled movements. 

When Haechan’s lips dare to move down on your sensitive rim, you jolt, but he’s fast at keeping you in place, his hands on your thighs as he presses them down and sends you a daring glare. 

“Hae — I don’t think…” 

“Yeah, exactly, don’t think,” he snarls, the movements on you getting sloppier and louder, making you start to grind against him unconsciously. 

Moans choke you up as he explores new things with you, sending you into a new dimension. You can’t fully comprehend you’re sitting on top of his face while he messily eats out your pussy and your ass. You can’t believe he’s moaning under you, holding you tight, one hand busy touching your ass while the other wonders on your upper chest caressing your waist and your boobs. 

You feel high and drunk on him. So much you can barely mutter a warning before you come, shaking on top of him, your movements are frenetic as you reach your peak while cries of his name slur out of your mouth with low moans. A tear almost slips from your eyes when Haechan doesn’t stop right away and keeps stimulating your sensitive spots, it’s too much and you collapse on the other side, trying to catch your breath. 

Haechan chuckles, licking up your juices before rubbing his nose against your neck. “Fuck, I’d eat you out for days,” he comments, rubbing his hands on your stomach. “You’re so pretty when you moan and squirm, whether on top of me or under, and you taste so good.” 

“You never let me pay you back.” 

He giggles, kissing you, “you don’t have to.” 

“But maybe I want to,” you pout. You can’t deny that you live for how much Haechan loves giving you oral, but you enjoy sucking him off just as much. You love how he lets you have control, how husky and warm his moans are, and you love when his hands weakly wrap around your hair… well, he only let you do it once but you had the time of your life and that never happened when you went down with your ex so… 

“Have you ever tried anal?” He asks out of nowhere, surprising you. 

“With someone? No. By myself… maybe…” 

He raises a brow while a smirk curls his lips. “Maybe? What kind of answer is that?” 

“I did,” you confess, feeling shy all of a sudden.  

“Uh,” he coos, poking your side playfully, “had fun?” 

You lick your lips, shrugging. “Fine, I did. I think I like it, but it might be different with, you know, a real person.” 

“Would you try?” He asks timidly, looking at you with puppy eyes. As if he has to beg to make you do something, as if he doesn’t know you would try anything with him. 

“Yeah, why not.”

“Good, fuck,” he kisses you after letting out the breath he was holding in. “Wanna fuck your ass,” he whispers against your neck, but you can feel the ear-to-ear smile on his face, “wanna be your first time.” 

You’d dwell on how cheesy that sounds a bit more if only it wasn’t for his hands groping your ass and squeezing hard while he ruts against your thigh like a pup in heat. 

“You’re pathetic,” you mock playfully, tugging his hair back, eliciting a broken moan from him.  

“And you’re hot,” he breathes out, moving on top of you to shush you with a kiss while his right arm falls under the bed to search for something. “Been thinking about this all day. You looked so pretty in that short white dress.” 

A small smile paints on your face, but it drops when he keeps rummaging in his bag next to the bag. “Can’t you get up to get, I guess, the lube?” 

“No,” he almost growls. “Want you.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, come on, need you to fuck me.” 

“You’re so impatient,” he groans, “but I got it!” He lifts his hand, showing you the small bottle of lube and you snicker at his proud smile. 

“You’re such a loser, you’re lucky you’re with me because anybody else would’ve been out of the door by now.” 

“And they would lose the best dick of their life, so, dumb decision,” Haechan says before his lips crash on yours again. “And you’re not that dumb, right?” 

You shake your head, already feeling your breathing get shorter when his lube-covered fingers start playing with your rim. 

“You looked so, so fucking hot in that short sundress, fuck,” he moans, pulling away to sit between your legs, he pushes a finger inside and you bite back a moan. “Wanted to press you against the handrail and fuck you right there on the restaurant balcony.” 

Your head rolls back, thinking of that afternoon. The tension between you could be cut with a knife, and there was something thrilling about the way you couldn’t keep your eyes — and hands — off each other and still had to keep it a secret. 

“You should’ve,” you breathe out, choking on your words when he starts fucking you with another finger, curling them inside and stretching you to get your hole ready for him. 

“Yeah? You would’ve liked it?”

You nod, staring into his eyes with a teasing glare. “Maybe I should’ve sat on top of you,” you stop to swallow, eyes squeezing when he brushes his thumb on your dripping pussy and starts teasing it, “on your lap and tried to — to keep it cool.”

He smirks, tilting his head before he pulls his fingers out. “I think you’re ready for me. You always are, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

You are, but when his thick cock pushes into you it still takes your breath away. Your fingers and your little purple toy can’t compare to him, they don’t fill you like this, and they don’t feel so good. 

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, rubbing his thumb on your waist in circular motions, “taking me all like a good girl.” 

You bite back a groan and throw your head back, breathing deeper and longer before you reach his hand and beg him to move. 

Haechan sneakers, “only if you keep telling me your little fantasy.” 

“I — I don’t think I can,” you confess; he’s barely moving into you, only making circular motions brushing against your sensitive spot, and you already feel weak. 

“I’m sure you can,” he smiles, “I didn’t fuck you dumb, yet.” 

Your holes clench at his words and you gather your sanity to keep talking. “Sitting on your lap, trying to — trying not to fuck up and down on your dick,” you force out when he keeps his promise and starts moving in and out, gripping your hips tight to angle you just how he knows you like it best. 

“You think you can resist it? Stay on my dick without moving?” 

“Ye-yes.” 

He laughs, throwing his head back as he starts snapping his hips faster. “You’re so confident, baby. I would love to see it all fall down.”

“But if I did, they would find out.” 

“Yeah, and think about it, I’d bend you over the table while everyone watches you get fucked dumb. Would you say no?” 

You nod, failing to give him a stronger verbal answer.�� 

“Liar,” he spits out, grabbing your thighs to push them up. “Every time I fuck you with Mark in the other room you moan even louder.” 

“That’s not true.” 

“Oh, no?” He tsks, cupping your cheeks. “Honey, you love putting on shows. Or is it just for me?” 

“For you,” you confess, voice muffled by the pression he’s applying on your face.

The smirk that curls his lips is smug and cocky. “That little dress was for me?” 

You nod and his smile grows bigger before it turns into a pout.

“I didn’t get to take it off.” 

“You were supposed to — fuck — to fuck me in it,” you mumble, catching your breath when his hold on you loosens. 

“Next time,” he groans, “or maybe tomorrow.” 

You don’t reply, only cry out louder when you come unexpectedly, taking you both by surprise. 

“I’m — I’m sorry, it — shit — it felt too good, I,” you don’t truly know how to justify yourself because you don’t know why you’re so sensitive tonight. 

“Shut up,” Haechan stops you with a kiss, “I know you can’t help it when you’re with me.” 

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you retort, rolling your eyes. 

“But you love it,” he smirks. “Come here.” He pulls out of you, slapping your thigh as he orders you to sit up. “Want me to fuck you hard?”

You nod, crawling to him at the end of the bed on your own, cupping his face to pull him in a rough kiss as your fingers slip in his hair, and his hands reach your asscheeks, shamelessly parting them before he spanks you hard. 

“Can you take it?” He asks against your lips, rubbing his thumb against your jaw before he brushes it on your open mouth, staring into your eyes. 

“Ye-yes,” you say but your voice is shaking. When his hand wraps around your neck to tease a kiss that he never gives you, you frown, and he snorts. 

“You’re so cute, you know?” His patronizing tone makes more wetness drool down your thighs but you still find the strength to push his buttons. 

“And you’re hard, you didn’t come once, yet. Shouldn’t you fix this?” 

He doesn’t reply, he pushes you onto the bed, making you face the only mirror in the room, it’s not extremely close to the bed but you’re sure it will do for whatever he has in mind.

“I think you’re so pretty when I touch you, kiss you, tease you,” he whispers against your ear, “fuck you,” he fucks into you without warning, and you gasp, “it’s a shame you don’t get to see it. To watch your pride slip out of you every time that I’m inside you.” 

Your head rolls down when he starts fucking into you faster than before but he shakes his head, clicks his tongue, and pushes you up with a tug on the makeshift ponytail. “You’re not running away from me, babe,” he says. “You might not let me into your true self but I have you turned inside out when you’re under me.” 

You blink your eyes, staring at him through the mirror, feeling small because you feel like you can’t keep up with his gaze. Haechan has control, he does have you in the palm of your hand, now, only when he fucks you, and you can’t care to mind. 

You want him to fuck you until there’s nothing more in your brain. You want him to know all the small things that make you feel good. Because nobody before him even wanted to know them, to own you like this, and you don’t want him to stop. 

“Look at you,” he whispers, biting your earlobe, “is it so terrible to not have everything under control?” You feel a hint of bitterness in his voice, almost as if he’s mad at you for not letting go like this under other circumstances. “You don’t have to worry about anything.” 

“With you,” you cry out, shaking a tear away and gritting your teeth when he hits you deeper and you feel your body on fire again.

“Yes, with me,” he says. “You don’t have to think about anything when you’re with me. I’ve got you.” 

You almost scream because you hate how much comfort you feel at his words, they don’t sound sexual, not even now that his rutting into you at a fast speed, fucking your ass with so much force that the bed is squeaking and the slaps of your skin against each other fill the room. Even now, something about him makes you feel in the right safe place and you’re not sure this is how you’re supposed to feel while being railed by your friend with benefits. 

You shake your head, forcing your eyes open as you stare at him in the mirror. “Harder,” you whisper, sinking your nails in the crumpled sheets under you. 

“Harder?” He mocks. “Are you sure?” 

You nod, pushing your ass up, trying to provoke him into giving you more. 

“If you say so.” His hand moves hesitantly on your neck, he doesn’t apply pressure, he just keeps you in his hold as he fucks into you with rhythmic, deep, and breath-taking thrusts. A low grunt escapes from his lips when your eyes roll back for a moment and you start to be more vocal, mouth staying parted and chest rising swiftly as you gasp for air. 

You are a vision. And he could get lost in that. 

“You — fuck — feel like heaven, baby,” he groans, “and look so pretty with no thoughts in your brain.” His voice hits right beside your ear and sends shivers down your spine, the eye contact through the reflecting surface makes you melt, tighten the knot in your stomach and almost come on the spot. 

Haechan chuckles, kissing your cheeks in a mockingly delicate motion. “Were you about to come again, honey?” 

You shake your head, lying blatantly because you know that if you give it to him, he won’t shut up. But he knows you were.

“Yes, you were,” he taunts with a sharp laugh. “What did I say about holding it back?” 

“But I — I can’t, fuck,” you cry out. “Too much, can’t take another one.” 

“Yes, you can,” he orders. “Come for me, and then I’ll show you, you’ll come again.” 

The last thing you want to do is listen to him but he’s a sneaky piece of shit that knows you too well, and when two fingers rub against your clit and two others pass from your neck to your mouth, forcing you to suck them, your orgasm explode before you can even try to fight it. 

“I fucking — ugh — hate you,” you cry out, still shaking from the pleasure, writhing under him, shaking your head when he cleans his fingers on your chin. 

“The mess on your face is nothing compared to the mess between your legs. You know, right?” 

Yes, you do. You can feel your pussy drip an embarrassing amount of cum, and you know how much your hole is clenching around him. But it’s not your fault. 

The sounds that come from his mouth are pure condescending mockery as he smirks down at you. “Can’t answer me anymore?” 

You’re about to open your mouth but he shuts you up with an open hand on it. “I don’t want to hear you. I don’t need to hear you to know you’re going dumb on my cock.” 

You muffle something but it’s in vain, and his eyes glint when you give up in two seconds. 

“You’re right,” he groans, “something is different about this place. You never let me have so much — fuck — so much control over you. You never let me fuck you this good, like you deserve.”

You’d like to complain. Because if he thinks that your past fucks weren’t this good, he’s dead wrong. But when your eyes lock, you get he’s still talking about something else. It’s not about the sex or the many orgasms, it’s about you. You didn’t talk back, you didn’t roll your eyes when he called you ‘pretty’ or ‘beautiful’, and you’re not running away even if he’s all over you. You get lost in his bites and kisses on your shoulders, on his hands on your skin, and his words filling your brain. 

“Wouldn’t fuck you in front of the others,” Haechan grunts. He’s picking a brutal pace and you feel like you could break, but moans are still coming out of your mouth, hoarse and needy. “They don’t deserve to see you like this,” he groans, slipping a hand under you, reaching your clit, and making you yelp. “This is only for me. This is mine to see.” 

Your eyes roll back. The possessiveness in his voice shouldn’t make you feel things, but it does, it gets your inside to twist and your heart to race and your cunt to clench around nothing even more. You feel like your chest could explode when he keeps repeating that you’re his and his only and you can tease everybody else as long as you want but no one will ever make you feel like he does. His pace on your clit speeds up, while his head falls in the crook of your neck, and then his hips still, the orgasm hits you at the same time and your bodies freeze as the pleasure buzzes through your bones, his hand falls from your mouth and you gasp for air while he collapses on top of you. 

You start breathing in synch, and you enjoy the sensation of his chest on your back, but that doesn’t last long. He’d love to stay there some more, but your friends might come back in minutes now, and he truly doesn’t want anyone else to even get a glimpse of you like this. So he rolls to the side, turning his head to stare at you while he dares to caress your back with his hand. You never let him do it, he had tried, he thought aftercare was essential and that after everything he put you through you deserved more than just a simple ‘are you okay?’ followed by your positive answer before you slipped to run back home or if he was lucky only in the bathroom before you came back to sleep next to him, as far as possible. 

But this time you don’t glare at him, and you don’t move away, you move closer, not much, but for you is a lot, and you keep your eyes closed while your left hand searches for his body shily, you don’t touch him, it’s just a brush of your fingers against his stomach, but it makes his heart jump in his throat. 

“I think…” he whispers, stopping when your eyes flutter open, terrified he ruined something, but you don’t talk, “I think we should shower, so we can be asleep when they come home.” 

You smile, stretching and covering your mouth when you yawn. “If you carry me,” you mumble. “I can’t walk.” 

He chuckles and then sits up. “It’s my fault so, yeah, I’ll carry you.” 

Nothing changes after that small summer trip. You go back and start being stressed once again and the only relief you have is Haechan. Some days are so stressful that you beg for him to come pick you up at work so you can eat something outside and then head back to his apartment to fuck. 

Yeah, to fuck. 

That is always the original plan, the only thing you need him for. You feel bad for some time treating him like a living dildo, but isn’t it what you two are for each other? You know there’s respect, and care, not love, never love, but other than being friends, when you meet up alone there’s just sex. 

That’s what it’s supposed to be. 

But then those things turn into… something else. You think it started one night when you came to his place but couldn’t jump on each other because he got a phone call he couldn’t decline, and you had to sit on the couch. You could’ve been a tease and started masturbating in front of him but that thought didn’t even cross your mind. You sat there, grabbing the remote to turn on the tv, hoping to catch something to keep you entertained, and you did. It was one of your favorite movies and when Haechan ended the call and sat next to you, you both had forgotten why you were there. 

Just like right now. It’s a Friday night and you came to his place to spend an evening together. No, you didn’t break any rules, it’s just a simple movie night. After you found out you both have an interest in films you couldn’t stop thinking about it, so it was an excuse to watch and discuss some movies together. 

“Hi,” Haechan opens the door, and he looks wrecked. You panic seeing him because it looks like he fought with a bear with bare hands, he’s sweating, and his hair is a mess, and your heart clenches in your chest… is he fucking — “I cooked.” 

Oh, he cooked. 

That made perfect sense, but it doesn’t make sense that you panicked at the idea of him with another girl, almost feeling sick to your stomach and about to throw up. You mentally slap yourself and smile as big as you can before making your way in. Suddenly regretting that you can’t slam him against the couch and ride him until you both pass out. 

“Last time chips hurt your stomach, so I made fries, and some small pizzas,” he exclaims, disappearing in the kitchen before showing up again with his hands full. “I hope you like this.” Haechan almost passes out when he sees the smile on your face, it’s so big and he swears he never saw you smile like that, but the moment of happiness doesn’t last because that smile disappears after your thanks. 

It’s another mental slap to yourself and your heart for beating so damn hard. It’s just snacks, anybody would have done that, right? Except you know damn well it’s not true. Your ex never cared about the few things your stomach hated and kept you up at night. Sometimes even Johnny forgot you couldn’t eat chips for God knows whatever reason. And it is annoying to fry and turn on the oven when he could’ve just opened a bag and eaten. 

Haechan is a good person. You justify. He is. You know it. He’s kind, good with kids, doesn’t know how to cook but he tries (for you), and when you tell him something makes you uncomfortable, he always tries to fix it as soon as he can, he’s perf—

“We should eat before it gets cold, then,” you almost scream, scaring him because you were dead silent in your thoughts for too long. 

And Haechan thinks he will never get you. But it’s fine like this. You are to discover, and he likes it. It’s thrilling, and every small step deeper into you feels like the biggest of the rewards. But he wonders when, and if, he will ever reach your core. 

For now, it’s fine like this, as you sit on the couch with the food in front of you and the movie you picked starts playing on the screen. 

After those movie nights, you should leave. You never set them too late for that reason, so you can drive back home before midnight. It’s easy to do, you’re just a bit tired but your legs are not shaking post-orgasm, your heart is not jumping out of your ribcage and you’re not leaking cum. 

It is easy. 

Yet, you stop doing it. 

“Why don’t you stay?” 

You should leave. Just like you did that one time he woke up with you and asked you to stay for breakfast. You were late. And right now, you can’t be late, but tomorrow you need to be home before nine because you have something important to do. It’s an easy lie to tell, he doesn’t know anything about you anyway. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper and Haechan looks taken aback. Of course, he is, that’s not a typical response of you. You would’ve screamed something at him, acting like a dog when someone crosses its personal space, barking left and right (not the nicest comparison he had told you — yes, he did — but you couldn’t get mad cause he was right). “I don’t have a toothbrush or my towels.” 

You realize that you broke another rule when Haechan stares at you with wide eyes and mouth agape. That’s the reason why you can’t stay. And the way those words came out of your mouth shows that you’re almost — he learned he has to be careful with you — sad for it. 

“I have a spare one,” he says before you can go back to your true self, “it can be yours.” 

That toothbrush eventually becomes yours. It sits there, right next to his, and every time you get up in the morning to escape from his bed, you’re reminded of all the lines you’ve crossed. You didn’t bring it from home, he fucking gave a toothbrush to you, and he doesn’t keep it scored somewhere in case you need it, no, it stays right there, always, next to his, as if it belongs there.  

You know it doesn’t, it feels weird, romantic, and domestic, and fuck it, you never left any of your belongings in your ex-boyfriend’s apartment. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to take it out and throw it away. 

It’s because you might need it. 

Yes, you might need it. 

That’s what you tell yourself. 

Things start going downhill when you break rule number 3. 

Technically you didn’t break it. 

You didn’t exactly invite him over. 

A phone call at midnight while drunk-you slurred out incomprehensible words and sobbed like a child to whom somebody just stole their favourite teddy bear can’t be considered an invite, right? In your defense, when he hung off the call, making you sob even harder cause you thought you fucked it up another time, you weren’t expecting the bell to ring ten minutes later. And when you dragged your body to the door, you didn’t expect to find him standing there, his nightwear only covered with a jacket, his hair a mess, and his breath short, a clear sign he rushed to your place. 

“Are you okay?” Haechan asks worriedly, shaking your shoulders to make sure you’re alive and not a creation of his imagination. 

If you were your usual you, you would’ve slapped him. Wasn’t it clear that you are not fine? But you’re not there tonight, so you say something else. 

“I’m sorry,” you sob, tears streaming down your face as you feel guiltier than ever, “I didn’t know who to call.” 

If you were your usual you, you would’ve been able to see the glint that crossed Haechan’s eyes at your words, probably even to hear his heart skip a beat and his hands shake for a brief moment, but again, you are not there tonight. 

“What happened?” He asks, trying to appear calm but he’s not calm at all. You are vulnerable, you. And out of all the people to be vulnerable with, you chose him. 

“I’m an asshole,” you mumble, letting your body fall into his arms, face hiding in the crook of his neck while you let go to a nervous cry.

“Hey, it’s alright, I’m here now. Should we sit?” 

You nod, but you’re not really giving orders to your body when he drags you to the couch and lets you cuddle up next to him, shushing you and rubbing circles on your back. 

“I never do anything right,” you mutter, holding yourself closer to him, hoping you’ll disappear into him and won’t have to face another day. 

“I don’t think so.” 

“But you don’t know me, you… if I only… if you only knew all my flaws you would run away, even if between us was just sex.” 

Haechan’s face twists in pain as he looks down at you, only seeing your hair because your face is still pressed against his chest. “Cause it’s not?” 

“We’re friends, but you…” your words die in your mouth, trying to give an order to all the things that are running in your head. “I try to fix things and then they go wrong, and how do I stop being a bad person? How do I stop hurting everybody?” 

“Who did you hurt?” 

“I mean… I am hurt, but I… is he manipulating, or am I truly a bitch?” 

Haechan can’t follow you, he wants to be a support, but you aren’t giving him clues about anything that is going on and he’s terrified of crossing boundaries, especially now that he has you so close and honest in his arms. This feels more intimate than all the sex you shared, and it’s scarier. 

“Who are you talking about?” He dares to ask, losing the hold on you when you sit up, moving away from his body, not much, your legs are still pressed together, and you search for his hand for comfort. 

“My ex.” 

“Your ex?” 

You nod, biting your lips just to prevent another terrible sound to roll out. “I started thinking… about us and why we didn’t work out, and… there were so many things that didn’t sit right. I don’t think I was crazy over him, but I… I’ve always respected him. He surely wasn’t the love of my life but fuck,” at that you break down again, turning your face to the side because even if you’re in the middle of a breakdown you can’t be so vulnerable to Haechan’s eyes. “We’ve been together for a year and a half and only now, because I asked for more closure, he told me he used me just for sex. And as the dumbass pathetic mess I am, I… we… we used to fuck.” 

Haechan’s jaw tenses as he listens to you, it’s probably not his place to syndicate since you two are using each other for the same reason, but it’s mutual and consensual. He coughs and then speaks when you don’t explain more. “After?”

“What?” 

“You went back to him after the breakup… to fuck?”  

“Yes,” you cry out, voice coming out in a yelp. And you know you look like a mess, tears and snot staining your face, but you can’t control your emotions anymore. You feel stupid. Every time you let your sentiments have the best, life proves you shouldn’t do it. 

Haechan sighs, taking you back in his hold, letting you go off in his embrace. He doesn’t talk, not sure of what to say, and let silence pass by, lulling you, and drawing circles in your hair. Only when you’ve calmed down a bit he talks. “Why are you the bad person in this?” 

“Cause he told me I’m insufferable. He said he loved me at first but… every day with me was ‘killing him’ or whatever. Because I… I like things done a certain way, I like order, I… I can’t let my life go into shambles, Hyuck. I’ve lived the worst days of my life because I had lost control, I feared I wasn’t going to make it out alive only because I wasn’t mentally there anymore, because I wasn’t in control. I let people walk over me and put myself last. I can’t go back there, I can’t.” 

“You’re not insufferable for being honest. You’re sincere about what you feel, not the type of person that hides behind honesty to make fun of others or to push them out of their comfort zone. I mean, surely sometimes it’s a lot when you want to have so much control over things, and how badly you react at times when a minor thing doesn’t go as planned. But I think that there are some flaws the people that love us should learn and comprehend, and either decide it’s not a weight for them or be frank and break up. Not everyone can carry the baggage that we bring with us, and that’s fine.” 

You sniffle, knowing he’s right, but also feeling that nobody seems to be able, or willing to even try, to carry the baggage you carry with you. 

“Would you date me?” That was the alcohol talking, and the heartbreak, and Haechan knows it. But he doesn’t know how drunk and heartbroken you are. He doesn’t know if this is a tricky question, if you would’ve remembered it the next morning and instead of taking it as a friend supporting you, it would’ve caused you two to drift apart. He doesn’t want to lose you, so he circles around it the best he can. 

“Your value is not in the people who would date you or not, not even in those who did, like your ex.”

“Yes but, isn’t this the same? I am using you for sex, I’m doing the same.” 

“It’s not the same. We want this, and we’re friends. I’m here, supporting you. I don’t think he supported you that much while technically you were dating, am I wrong?” 

“No, you’re right. I should’ve seen the signs.” 

“We’re all good once things are done, but we can’t blame ourselves from the past. You were in love, it doesn’t matter that you weren’t madly in love, you never disrespected him. While he made you believe he loved you, and in reality, he stopped feeling that and still used you. So, who’s the asshole here?” 

“Him,” you whisper with a shaky voice. 

“Good, that’s my good girl,” he praises, caressing your cheeks and wiping the tears away with his thumb. “See, you can see things clearly after the storm.” 

You hum, a small smile plastering on your face before you cuddle closer to him. You take a deep breath, inhaling his perfume and you feel at peace. “You know I like you, right? Like, I respect you and care for you.” 

Haechan’s smile goes from ear to ear, deep down he does, but he would’ve never expected you to say it out loud. “I know, even if you run away from my bed as if I bite you.” 

You laugh, hiding your face against his chest and your fingers tighten around his shirt. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine, I’m used to an empty bed anyway, so it’s not much of a difference when I wake up and don’t find you there.” 

Your head rolls up, chin pressing between his sternum as your eyes meet his. “Mind not waking up to an empty bed tomorrow?” 

“Mh?” 

“Can you please stay the night?” You ask shily, voice quivering. “I know I’m selfish, but I need someone with me.” 

Haechan smiles, “It’s not selfish, that’s what friends do.” 

That’s what friends do. 

Cleaning your smudged makeup and tears. 

Giving you water and an aspirin. 

Helping you clean your body and even apply moisturizer. 

Taking care of your hair. 

Putting you in clean nightwear. 

Whispering a song to your ear to make you fall asleep. 

Holding you close the entire night, so you don’t have nightmares. 

Yeah, that’s what friends do. 

You know Haechan has a… sparkling personality. He’s chatty, outgoing, and friendly with everyone. He’s not so different from Johnny, so you two get along well because you grew up with your best friend starting conversations even with walls, it doesn’t annoy you when Haechan does the same. 

Well, it didn’t annoy you. 

Other than that, Haechan has this tendency of flirting with pretty much everyone — of age, and that doesn’t give signs of discomfort — not so different than you, so you couldn’t get mad at him for that, right? Those flirty remarks are jokes, silly things that fit into the moment and that he says just for funny purposes, right? 

You aren’t so sure about it. And you aren’t even sure why you care so much. That sensation at the pit of your stomach every time he talks with someone else, touches them, or winks and smirks, is not normal. You know he’s going to take you home and fuck you all night, giving you exactly what you ask for, so why do you feel like this? 

“This place is dope.” Mark’s voice rings loudly in your ear, and his body touches yours as he messily sits next to you on the bench, dragging you out of the intense staring competition you were having with yourself, Haechan and his new friend’s body. 

“Yeah, Johnny always finds the best places,” you force out, gripping the empty glass in your hands tighter and obligating yourself to look around and not go back to Haechan and that fake blonde girl that is all over him. 

“Seems like someone’s having fun,” Mark laughs, looking in front of you and you curse mentally because you know who he’s referring to, and right now you wish Haechan wasn’t having the time of his life. “Johnny made a match for himself and for Hyuck too, the only one missing is you.” 

You chuckle, looking at the floor, sighing deeply before you decide that it’s better to divert the conversation from you. “Where’s Minjeong?” 

“Oh, she’s at home, actually I’ll leave in a few minutes cause I have to go to her place,” he says with a smile on his face and you think it’s cute how he reacts when she’s brought up. He’s so madly in love and she is too, when they come along they make you wish you had what they had, for two seconds, just two. “Also doing Channie a favour, you know,” he winks and then chuckles, but you don’t find the implications funny, and your stomach twitches in discomfort. 

Did Haechan ask him to leave the house empty or is he just being playful? And what if you won’t be the one Haechan takes home? 

“I don’t think he’s going home with her,” you say, barely hiding the bitter tone. It’s not an opinion, you’re manifesting because you can’t bear that thought, but Mark is not on your track and he snickers again. 

“Think they’ll end up doing it in the bathroom or the car?” 

You force out a laugh while replying, “God, I hope not.” But you’re dying inside and you wish Mark would leave so you can run outside, slap yourself, go back inside and find somebody else to fuck that night and put your dumb brain — or heart, but you’re not ready to accept that just yet — to sleep. 

“I think he will last until home, he’s not a fan of doing it in unpractical places, dirty or too risky.” 

“Is the car risky?” 

“Yes,” he replies as if he’s shocked by your underestimation. “People know what goes on even if they can’t see, and then it moves and fogs and it’s… embarrassing. Haechan has never been that attracted to somebody to the point of fucking in a car, he’d rather go home with his balls blue.” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Too much information,” you joke, shrugging off how your body heated up, and Mark apologies through laughter before standing up. 

“Sorry again. Man, I’m used to making fun of him with him and got carried away.” 

“It’s fine, I’m a grown woman, sex doesn’t traumatize me,” you reassure but your dumb heart is beating weirdly faster in your chest, and the awareness that Haechan never done it with anybody else, that he also broke one of his unspoken rules for you, is driving you insane. 

Now you’d like to get up and drag him by the hair and ask him if he would fuck her in a car but you don’t, you can’t. So you say your goodbyes to Mark and then stand up to walk to the bar, some alcohol will do. 

“Hey, pretty,” a man’s voice speaks from the side; barely five minutes of peace and you are already crowded with unwanted attention. 

“Hi,” you reply back, trying to bite back the bitterness of your voice, whoever that man is, he isn’t the man you want to reach your side. 

“All alone here?” 

You roll your eyes at his lame pick-up words and at the hint of the smirk you can hear in his voice. “I’m with friends, just need to cool down for a bit.” 

“Oh, all dating and all over each other while they forget about you,” he jokes and only then you turn around. Partially true, but being left alone by your friends had never been a problem, you always found someone that wanted to dance with you, even right now you have this man — a handsome man, with black hair, tanned skin, and a somehow not creepy smile — hitting on you but he isn’t the man you want. 

“I’m not actually,” you lie, you don’t even know why. You could’ve said yes, flirted with him a bit more, ground against each other for a while before going home, to his place, wait, to his place? What if he was a murderer? And with what car? You should’ve called a Uber, or worst, slept over. But soon you realize his bed isn’t the bed you want to fall asleep into after some draining orgasms. The idea of even being at his place makes your skin crawl and you push down a groan when two brown eyes, auburn hair and bronze skin fill your thoughts instead. 

“Then why are you alone? You’re too pretty to be wasted here, sitting all by yourself. I could hear your thoughts from there,” he says, pointing at where he was sitting before. 

Your face twitches in irritation, you don’t like being called pretty, not with that tone at least, and not by men that aren’t Hae— anyway, you don’t like it. It feels like mockery and when it comes from men’s lips it feels like they’re trying to box you up there, as if being pretty is all you’re worth but at the same time, they can’t compliment you with words like ‘beautiful’ or ‘gorgeous’ because then they would boost your ego too much and they cannot compete with confident women. 

“And what were my thoughts, Harry Potter?” You joke, trying to hide the bitter tone with a forced small smile. 

He snorts, shaking his head, and shifting closer to you. Your first reaction is to move away but another body on the other side stops you from going far. 

“I don’t recall Harry Potter being able to mind read,” he whispers, and you feel his breath collide against your neck, and his fingers graze your thigh. “Anyway, I could tell you were begging for attention.” 

You gulp. You don’t like this anymore, you didn’t like this in the first place, to be honest. But him being all over your personal space without your consent is making you uncomfortable and for some reason, you can’t react like usual. Maybe it’s because he’s not doing anything, or well, not something so evident that wouldn’t make the whole club call you a crazy attention whore for accusing an innocent man. 

So, you sit quietly; if you don’t talk back, he’ll get tired and will leave, that’s what you pray for. You just have to wait for a miracle. 

And just when you’re about to lose all hope, and the man moves even closer to you, a fit of cough brings you back to earth. 

“Honey,” Haechan calls, “sorry, the line at the bathroom was endless. Should we go?” 

It takes you a while to realize he’s talking to you, but once your brain registers his voice, you let go of a breath of relief, and when you turn around you meet the pissed-off expression of the man next to you. 

“Who’s this?” 

“Her boyfriend,” Haechan talks before you can even think of an answer, too dumb you were already thinking of a short way to explain what was going on between you. “Needed something, sir?” 

Haechan is clearly mocking him, staring at the stranger with a challenging glare and moving closer to you, almost to shield you from him. 

“Nothing, have a great night,” the man mutters angrily before walking away. 

“You too!” Haechan screams and then turns to you. “Are you alright? It seemed like he was crossing some lines.” 

You’re still shaken, and only mumble some hums as a reply. It’s not really because of that man but mostly because you weren’t expecting this from Haechan. Or worse, you weren’t expecting your heart to react when he called himself your boyfriend. 

“I’m fine,” you whisper before briefly looking around, this is getting too much. You don’t give him time to check another time that you’re up and walking speedily to grab your jacket and storm outside. Haechan doesn’t get it, for the nth time he can’t predict anything of you, and he feels guilty because maybe he read you wrong, maybe you were willingly flirting with that man and he fucked up everything. But he still runs after you, and that’s, one, not what you expected, and two, not what you needed. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were flirting back with him,” he apologizes, running after you, grabbing your wrist, and forcing you to turn around. 

You sniffle, looking at the ground because this is so pathetic and it’s already the second time he catches you crying and you can’t bear how vulnerable you have shown yourself to him — yes, that is too many times for you. Bottling up feelings and emotions is your top skill after programming everything like a mastermind to make sure everything would flow perfectly and everyone would have a very specific image of you, so why the hell are you a mess every time he comes around? 

“I can go talk to him and explain it to him —”

“No,” you stop him. “I… I’m a bit overwhelmed because I… I wasted a night out, I could’ve stayed at home and written a little or gone on with my favourite series, but you know…” 

“Fleabag?” He taunts, tilting his head as he tries to meet your eyes.

“Yeah,” you whisper, running a hand on your neck.  

“You already know it by heart, it would be your tenth rewatch,” he jokes but when you look at him with your lips awkwardly pressed in a thin line, his eyes go wide. “Oh God, you started it again?” 

“I’m sorry,” you cry out, “it’s my comfort show, and then the other day I fucked up again, I needed to see myself being a total failure in someone else and Fleabag is always there for me.” 

Haechan chuckles, shaking his head, still staring at you with an amused expression. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Need a hot priest too?” 

That should make you laugh — oh, how much you wanted that — but it only makes you let out a chocked sob because fuck, he surely doesn’t carry a rosary and the bible is not his favourite book, he can’t say mass, but you feel like Haechan is your hot priest. He’s fucking you up in ways nobody else ever did. Fleabag at least had God and morals to come between them but you, what do you have? Nothing. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, pulling you in a hug, “no hot priests, no judging for your fixations. How about you tell me what is going on?” 

“No,” you reply, hiding in his hold. It should be easy, embarrassing but easy, to slur out that you’re a mess because you feared he wasn’t going to pay you a bit of attention, surely you should’ve turned it into a confession of how dick-addicted you were and how badly you needed him — vulgarly, his cock — after an entire week of absence, but it’s not easy to be your usual — or past — self when you feel like you are missing him more than you are missing what he knows how to use best. “You should go inside, she’s waiting for you.” So you place the weight on him, hoping he won’t take you home because you can’t do another night like when you called him in the middle of desperation. 

You don’t catch his expression, a held-back smirk mixed with eyes full of surprise, but that would be the look on his face that you’d see if you’d stopped staring at the cobblestones on the sidewalk. 

“Are you… jealous?” 

Your head is not facing the ground anymore, with a snap so fast you know it’s a miracle you didn’t break your neck, your eyes lock with Haechan’s. And then you laugh, hysterically. It’s a fake laugh and he gets it, he can see you panic, he saw it in your eyes that brief moment they intertwined, and he knows. 

You are jealous. 

And you know he knows it, so you have to fix this mess. 

“Fine, I wanted to fuck you tonight, it’s been a week and I’m kinda needy, and seeing you with her got me mad, but not jealous. Do you know when you’re horny, you think you’re close to getting some relief and then something happens and what you have in mind doesn’t happen anymore?” You ask, and you see in his face that he’s barely following the words you’re spitting out before you can betray yourself. “But it’s fine, my toys are still working, so I can use them instead.”

“Are you walking home?” 

Oh, so he doesn’t care about anything you said? He didn’t believe it, right? Fuck, now he’ll think you love him. 

“Yes.” 

Haechan shakes his head, before grabbing your hand and pulling you to the opposite side. “Come on, don’t make me drag you.” 

“I’m not going back inside,” you say, trying to pull away and he stops, sighing. 

“Honey, I’m taking you home.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

You’d fight if you weren’t a mess, you surely would do it and tell him it’s not necessary, but you need a ride back home so that’s the only reason you say yes. You don’t hope you will break rule number three again and he will fuck away this sadness you’re carrying around. Why are you even sad? He’s there, right at your side, driving you home after you cried like a child in the middle of the street, comparing yourself to a fucking tv series character, an insane character, by the way. 

“Do you think I talk to myself?” 

“What?” He almost swerves when you talk after five minutes of straight silence. 

“Like Fleabag, you know. The thing she does when she talks to us?” 

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen you turn around mid-conversation to stare at a spot behind you or to your side to talk to a camera, so I guess no.” 

You sit in silence, blankly staring at the street in front of you. Oh, you do. Not the camera, not really, but you are slowly transcending into the madness of that old cat lady that Johnny always talked about. 

“I’m insane,” you cry out. 

Haechan laughs, turning to stare at you for a split second, and smiling again at your devasted face. “I just think you’re drunk.” 

“I didn’t drink,” you huff, throwing your head back against the seat and closing your eyes while you damn every decision that led you there. “Got two small glasses of something that wasn’t even worth it while I watched you grind on her all night.” 

Shit. 

Fuck. 

“She was hot.” 

Think fast. Think fast. Think fast. 

“You should’ve gone home with her. Can we go back so I will go home with her?” 

“I take it back, you are insane, not drunk,” he giggles, caressing your thigh when the car stops at a traffic light. 

You groan. Why is he so unfazed by your weird tactics? Why does he laugh so tenderly even when he’s teasing you? Why does it feel like he holds so much love in his voice, words, and touches? “I’m sorry, it was a shitty night and I’m… overstimulated. Not sexually, but mentally. Everything feels doubled.” 

“That’s why I’m taking you home.” 

Your brain has many things to say but you keep your mouth shut, you already messed up enough tonight and you’re not sure you can live tomorrow with the consequences of these minor errors already, so adding more to the list wouldn’t be a wise thing. 

When you arrive home you don’t move. You should jump off the car to slump in your bed not even changing yourself — once again going against one of the thousands of rules you have in order to survive in the insanity of your sanity. But you don’t want to leave his side. You like being around Haechan, even when you don’t talk, even right now that you feel on the verge of tears again and you can’t blame your hormones, while the music plays from the radio. 

And Haechan gets it. Your usual self? Out of the car in a second; the first times you two hung out you barely gave him time to stop before you were under the porch of the complex you lived in. He once again has no idea what’s going on inside you, but he knows he can’t leave you alone. He doesn’t care if you use toys, but for how shaken you look, he knows the only thing you’ll pick up will be the phone to call your ex, and he doesn’t want that. You don’t deserve to be hurt, and your ex doesn’t even deserve to hear your voice. 

“Wanna come to my place?” He asks, breaking the silence, staring at you while you’re lost with the gaze in front of you on the quite empty road of your house. “You have everything there anyway.”

You have everything there anyway. 

His toothbrush that became yours. 

His white t-shirt that became yours. 

A new set of towels he had bought just for you. 

His favourite mug that became yours. 

A warm bed. A pillow with a beating heart. And probably something else you’re not ready to face yet. 

“Yeah, let’s go home.” 

Haechan shouldn’t smile this big when those words leave your lips and you slump in your seat letting go of the tension, but he does. He knows you’re drunk, he knows you’ll go back to being your distant self in the morning, and probably he won’t even find you there when he wakes up, but he likes this new side of you so he wants to enjoy it while it lasts. 

Home. 

He loves the way it rolls from your lips and how that house feels like home when you’re inside. 

Apparently, your new plan is to give Haechan a heart attack, cause when he wakes up in the morning and, not only still finds you there, but finds you cuddled up on top of him, he feels like dying. He is not even sure you are you, maybe he’s making you up and all of this is a dream. 

Now that you are awake you feel the same. You are in his bed, wearing his shirt and pants, it’s nine in the morning, your clothes are not scattered on the floor and the sheets aren’t a mess. Why? You know why. Unfortunately, you weren’t drunk enough the night before to forget how embarrassing it had been, but you wish you could find another reason. 

“Oh, hi,” he cheers when you enter the kitchen after ten minutes of contemplating whether running away now was a good idea or if the more you acted weird, the worst it got. “Headache?” 

“No, luckily no,” you reply, running a hand on your face and sitting on a chair. “Why are you cooking, trying to blow us up?” 

“Oh, you’re back, I was starting to worry,” he laughs at your snarky remark, shaking his head. 

You don’t reply, only drop on your arms, resting your head on them against the table as you watch him move around. He might not be a good chef, but you love the way he moves, it’s like his body always makes sure to remind you of all the years he spent doing ballet, and even if he hates it now, you’re glad he did it.

He’s hot, even in the morning, even with his eyes still sleepy and hair a mess. But you feel like something of the crazy, pungent, chemistry that used to buzz between you stopped doing so. Or maybe this is a friend moment without the benefits? You can’t tell, and you just want to get back on the benefits again because the whole friends’ thing is turning romantic and you don’t like it. 

So, your feet move quickly, making you reach him in a second and wrap your arms around his body. 

“What are you—” 

“Shh,” you shush him, moving your hands lower on his abdomen. 

“Oh, sure, of course, you weren’t just hugging me, fuck,” he curses when you tease his inner thighs, never touching his sensitive part. There is a hint of sadness in his words but you pretend you don’t get it. 

“Want you, Hyuckie,” you pout against his ear, and you can feel him shiver in your hold. 

“Not now,” he murmurs, reaching for your hand to move it away. 

“Then when?” You ask, slipping your hand into the rubber band after you slapped his away. “You never fucked me in the morning, you know?” 

Haechan gulps and turns off the stove, hands losing their grip on everything they touch while your hands kept teasing him more and more. 

“When we had all, mhh, day to ourselves,” he murmurs, squeezing his eyes as he tries to don’t give in to you. 

“Fucked me in the evening, at night, and in the afternoon.” 

“You slept till noon of course I couldn’t fuck you in your sleep.” 

“Well, couldn’t or wouldn’t, you still didn’t, and I need you to do it now.” 

Haechan’s breath falters when your fingers wrap around his dick and start moving to get him hard, head reclined low as he tries to hold in the moans you’re dragging out of him. 

“Can you get hard for me?” You whisper teasingly and Haechan groans, glaring at you. 

“Now you think I can’t get hard?” 

You chuckle at his voice and also because you can feel his cock hardening in your hand with each stroke on it. 

“Good,” you hum, starting to kiss his neck and when his head rolls back and he searches for your lips on his, you pull away. 

“Oh, cool, went back to phase one?” He says and you can hear the bit of anger in his voice even if he’s trying to hide it. 

You don’t know what to reply, you can turn it into something sexual, so he won’t get mad and keep this thing going. You don’t even know why you pulled away. Well, yes, you do, but why are you so afraid all of a sudden? 

“Fuck me first and then maybe later you’ll get a kiss.” This will do, coming out sultrily it only sounds like dirty talk and hides your insecurities. “You left me hanging for too long to get what you want so easily.” 

And Haechan falls for it, groaning again and leaning back on your shoulder while his eyes are shut and from his lips start to come out more moans. 

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he whimpers, fucking back into your hands. 

You smirk, finding yourself staring at his blissed face a bit too long, but he looks just so beautiful like this, with his long lashes resting on his full soft cheeks, and his plump lips parted to let out soft, raspy whimpers. 

“Wanna come?” 

“In — fuck — in your mouth, please. Use your mouth.”

Your hands leave his dick, and you take two steps back.

“Turn around and take your pants off,” you order and stare at him following your instructions in the blink of an eye. When he’s done, you get on your knees and don’t waste time taking his hard cock in your mouth. 

“Shit,” Haechan groans, throwing his head back and wrapping his hands in your hair, he doesn’t force your face down, leaving total control in your hands, he simply likes to hold on to you somehow. 

You go for a steady rhythm, not fast but not slow to tease him and waste more time. You’re dripping and you need him inside you soon. And for your luck, it doesn’t take him long to come. After all, you know him and what drives him crazy. So one of your hands fondles his balls while the other wraps around his base, and start working on him while your tongue and cheeks focus on his tip. You also know that he loves hearing you moan around him, and watching your eyelid flatter as you stare up at him, and he never told you but when tears start spilling out of the corner of your eyes, his cock throbs harder. 

“Mhh, fuck, fuck,” he rasps out, followed by chants of your name as his knees wobble and his hips buck up while he comes in your mouth. His eyes roll back when you pull away with a pop sound and then swallow everything without breaking eye contact. “You drive me insane,” he mutters, running his fingers through his hair, breathing deeply.   

“Fuck me,” you urge, standing up again, his words flying over your head. “Please.”

Haechan nods, shaking his head to try to shake the post-orgasm haze out of his mind. “Come here,” he hums, pulling you closer, moving his hands on your body to undress you of the pants and underwear before lifting you on the countertop. 

But that’s not what you want. 

“No,” you huff, squirming in his hold. “From behind, please.” 

That’s not what Haechan wants, when you fuck in that position is because you want it particularly hard and that’s not what he wants to give to you, not now. He’s still trapped in that sense of what was different from the night before and he’s not ready to bear with your shift to your old self again. But when he looks into your eyes, he realizes that spell is already far gone, no more tenderness or heartfelt conversation, just sex and greed. 

But you are still there, and it never happened before, and this is better than nothing, so he gives you what you want. 

“Bend over,” he says, helping you off the kitchen and waiting for you to get in position. He would find the view hot, incredibly hot, your ass pushing back up into him, your wet folds pressing against the tip of his cock, your hips swinging in desperation, and it is hot, but he can’t enjoy it fully; if it only wasn’t for that small twinge of pain in his heart. 

“Please, fuck me,” you beg again when he doesn’t push in right away, too lost at staring blankly at your back.

“Are you in a rush? Somewhere to be better than here?” He bites back, it’s a bitter tease, not a sensual one, and his voice trembles, and so do his hands on your hips. 

“I need you, please,” you grunt, throwing your head down, “please.” 

Haechan swallows the gulp in his throat and pushes into you. He’s always delicate when he thrusts in the first time, he knows you’re wet and ready to take him but he’s always careful and you wish you didn’t find it so attractive, but you do. Nobody ever cared for you that much during sex, well, nobody ever cares for you that much in general. 

And when he starts moving in and out of you, your heart loses another beat. He fills you up so nicely, you hate to compliment every part of him but fuck, he’s perfect, he fits perfectly and you feel him everywhere, it’s like he was made just for you.

“Fuck,” he groans when you clench down on him. “Want it harder, babe?” 

“Yes, please.” 

His hips start snapping against you in a fast rhythm, causing your bones to hit the hard surface of the countertop, but you don’t care, you even find the slight pain more exciting. 

Haechan’s groans fill your ears, as the grip of his hands on you gets incredibly tighter. It’s rough like you asked but not how you’re used to. You don’t dare to turn your neck to get a peek at him but you know his brows are knitted and his eyes are dark. This doesn’t feel like fun like your usual hard fucks, it’s like a sense of sadness and bitterness is running between you and it makes your heart sting. 

“Haechan,” you call out his name, and only for a second his grip softens, but you don’t continue, you don’t even know what you want, or if you want something. 

“What?” He growls in response, hips slamming harshly against your ass. “Is this still not enough? Am I still not enough? Will I ever be enough for you?” 

Your eyes squeeze shut as you feel a tear streak down your eyes and you shake your head swiftly, trying to hold onto something. “No, it is,” you breathe out. “You are, fuck, you are enough,” you cry, hissing when he slaps your ass. 

“Yeah? Then what do you want? What do I have to do to make you happy?”

“Kiss me,” you mumble, pushing your head back, trying to reach for his lips. “Ple-please, want you — umh — you all over me.”

And when he leans in, kissing you with eagerness, it’s like the gloomy cloud that was shadowing over you dissolves in the air, his grip turns delicate, and his face relaxes, while his hips slow down until they come to a stop. Haechan doesn’t pull away and you don’t care you’re almost struggling for air, feeling breathless, gasping against his lips makes you feel alive more than ever. 

“Fuck,” he groans, pulling away with a gasp. He stares at your face for a moment, watching a tear roll down your cheeks, and he’s tempted to wipe it away with a gentle touch of his fingers, but he doesn’t give in to temptation. If you weren’t in yourself the night before, he’s not in himself right now, and he feels that he might want to see you cry, cry for him. 

Another guttural sound rolls from his lips when he drifts his gaze away and pushes you flat on the countertop with force, picking up the same rhythm as before, snapping against you so fast that your heart starts racing faster in your chest that’s raising up and down in a frenetic rhythm. 

“Too — too much,” you whimper, letting your shoulder relax when you fear you won’t be able to keep your body up much more. 

Haechan snickers, moving a hand down to knead the flesh of your ass harshly as he leans closer to you. “Really? Thought you asked me to fuck you like this.” 

You nod weakly, muscles of your neck sore, and you close your eyes because you feel more tears threatening to spill out, it’s a mix of physical pleasure and mental — emotional — pain you can’t deal with. 

“I would’ve fucked you differently,” he almost growls next to your ears, and you know he’s mad. “Nice and slow, probably would’ve even eaten you out but you asked for this and I’m giving you this,” his voice almost breaks and his hips falter, his heart is beating so loud in his ribcage you can feel it against your back. “Want me to stop?” And here he is, as always, no matter the pain you put him through by playing a game of hide and seek inside your true self where he can’t grasp anything real, his voice still turns soft, weak, almost shy, as he makes sure this truly is not getting too much for you. Because you hit left and right with your sword and your blinded eyes but he won’t ever hurt you even if he’s clearly the one bleeding. 

“No,” you sniffle, opening your eyes to try to glimpse at his, but the position doesn’t offer you a great view. “Want you, please. I — I need you, Hyuck, so much.” 

He nods quickly and then starts thrusting into you, this time he won’t stop until you come, but he pushes your body up against his because he needs you. He needs your scent to be all over his skin, he needs to remind himself you’re not a dream even if you continuously slip from his fingers, he needs to remind you and himself that he’s the only one that has you like this. He is the best you ever had and that’s a little consolation.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me,” he whimpers, forehead frowning while sweat starts pearling his skin as he looks at your ass bouncing on him. “Gonna come?” 

“Ye-yes, please,” you beg, and you don’t even know why. You don’t have to ask for his permission to come but it’s like you want him to end this moment. 

“Hold on just a bit more, I’m close,” he replies, “want to come with you.” 

You nod mindlessly, letting out louder and whinier moans while your hands desperately search for some kind of contact and your legs shake as your orgasm builds up with more violence inside you. 

“Be a good girl and come with me,” he orders and you feel one of his hands reach in front of your body until it finds your clit. He groans loudly when your pussy clenches hard around him and your body tenses up while your orgasm washes over, leaving you with your mouth parted but too breathless to let out sounds. Haechan’s not silent, he curses your name and some swear words while his hips keep ramming into you as he pumps his cum in and out of your hole. 

“Shit,” he comments, pulling out of you sooner than you wish he would, leaving you empty and cold. 

You think he’s behind you, but when you turn around struggling, you see he’s not in the kitchen anymore and you collapse on the floor, legs too weak and trembling to hold you and your heavy heart up. 

You’re not sure how many minutes pass while you sit naked on the floor of his kitchen with your hands in your hair wondering where did you go wrong. You just know it feels like an eternity and when you hear footsteps approach, you quickly jump on your feet to cover up and don’t let him find you like that.  

Once you pulled back up your clothes, and he’s back in the room, you don’t know what to say, and you don’t even feel like staring at him. 

“You can…” he starts but then stops and when your eyes lift from the ground, you see he’s turned around, turning on the stoves again. 

“I can?” 

“Nothing,” he mutters. “You know where everything in this house is. Do whatever you want.” 

“Are you — are you mad?” You chuckle nervously, shaky fingers fixing your hair behind your ears. 

He shrugs, shaking his head, “I’m not, I just know you won’t do what I propose, so if you want to eat, take a shower and grab some new clothes, do it. But if you want to leave, it’s fine, too.” 

You bite your lips; you know your typical answer would be easy: leave. But right now, it feels like the wrong one. You can’t bet on it, but Haechan seems sad, even angry, and the cold wall between you and his back is making you feel guilty for something you don’t even know. You just proposed to fuck, it was normal in your relationship, so why was he mad and why were you sad? What happened in that fragment when your bodies were tangled in a mess bigger than what it looked like? 

“I’ll stay for a bit…” you whisper and when he turns around with wide eyes you add, “if it’s fine for you.” 

“Yeah, I told you, everything you decide it’s fine for me. Want breakfast?” 

“Yeah,” you say. 

“And maybe new clothes?” He smiles, tilting his head to the side, warm dispersing on his face again.

“Your closet?” 

“My closet.” 

The names you start slurring in bed don’t belong to Haechan. Honestly, you haven’t seen Haechan in over two weeks now. That morning you needed him to prove you something, only to be proven the complete opposite. Things with him weren’t going where you planned them to go in the first place. 

And the best solution would be to talk about it, set some boundaries again, or put an end to things like adults, but, even if the years pass by, you feel like you only keep getting older but not wiser. 

You think you are stupid and childish, and you hate yourself. 

But you still don’t pick the best solutions. Actually, you don’t pick solutions at all, you just fuck things up because you’re not used to them going right. 

You ghosted him. Left his place after breakfast with a promise to text him in the week just to never pick up the phone to go to his contact again. You even have to avoid Johnny and your friend’s nights out because you can’t face him. 

You feel like you cheated on him. No, there wasn’t written or slurred speech anywhere that you two were exclusive but you two were exclusive. Haechan never fucked someone else behind your back, and he also most of the times implied he didn’t because, since you two did it raw, he wanted to make sure he was only active with you. 

And you… you crossed a line you shouldn’t have crossed. 

You went back to your ex and met up with two people you met at a club, when, too heartbroken, you needed someone to fill the void inside of you, only for things to get worst and leave you heartbroken, full of guilt and unsatisfied. 

You should pick up your phone, call him over and explain, you’re still in time to fix this in a way he won’t hate you forever, but you don’t. 

You go to work, come back home, slump on the couch with food and movies, or stay out running until you can barely feel your legs, stand under the shower as if the bill won’t crash you at the end of the month and then go to sleep, or try to, while you fight with your brain and heart and the emotions none of the three of you knows how to cope with, just to do it all over again the next day. 

It’s an endless routine where you try to push him out, but it doesn’t seem to work. 

It had always been easy to delete people from your life like this. One cut, one push out of your protected zone, and they were long forgotten. 

So why is it so hard with him? 

But you still don’t pick up that damn phone, not even when a month passes by and Haechan reaches for you, apologizing. 

[Monday]

pathetic loser hey, it’s been a while i just wanted to check if everything’s alright 

[Wednesday]

pathetic loser will you be there at johnny’s dinner at his place? 

maybe we can talk there? 

[Friday]

pathetic loser   i didn’t ask johnny but i guess you won’t be there so i just hope you’re okay 

You don’t reply, only stare at those texts trying to force yourself to grab the phone and call him because he deserves that more than a dry reply in a text. But you don’t know what to say, and you’d probably hope he won’t answer the call, so you’ll have an excuse to say you’ve tried but he didn’t reply. And when you try to come up with something that can explain to him this whole situation and at the same time don’t tear you apart, another week passes by. 

[Thursday] 

pathetic loser i won’t bother you again i promise 

i just wanted to apologize if i did something that made you uncomfortable that night/morning 

i don’t know what it is but it’s fine if you don’t want to tell me, after all you don’t owe me anything 

it was just sex anyway so it’s fine 

i will stop hanging around with johnny when i know he plans with all of us so you don’t have to avoid him too 

he misses you, please don’t let some sex come between your friendship 

anyway back to us, i know i sound like a loser but i had fun and i hope you don’t regret this totally, sorry if i messed something up i didn’t do it on purpose 

i’ve written too much so yeah hope you’re fine, have a great life (you can block me if you want to, if you didn’t already) 

You don’t reply even this time, but you cry and sob into your pillow, covered by your sheets as the phone glows in the dark. And you cry and cry until you feel like you can’t breathe and the weight on your chest gets heavier and pushes you down into your misery. 

It was supposed to be just silly, superficial, and fun sex, how did it turn into this? 

Haechan didn’t mean to mess something up. 

But Haechan doesn’t know that the only thing he messed up with is your heart. 

It takes you a while, but you get over him and get back to your daily life, the real one. No more depressing couch-sitting-eating sessions or extremely exhausting workouts to burn your brain down, no more avoiding social life and crying yourself to sleep. 

Johnny didn’t understand what happened, he felt like there was something going on between you and Haechan, but you never told him anything and you wouldn’t keep that a secret to yourself, right? Not from him at least. But even if he didn’t know the reasoning he gently, and friendly, dragged you out of the house without asking many questions, he just wanted you back. 

And you were back, a bit less chatty and loud, with a lightly dimmed glow in your eyes, and with a tongue that stopped flirting with every breathing being, but you were there. 

Haechan had disappeared, he was true to his promise, and you never saw him in the mixed-groups group hangouts, so moving on from him had been easier. 

You don’t hear his laugh anymore, you don’t laugh at his jokes, you can’t feel his hand secretly and gently rest on your thighs under the table, he can’t rest his head on your shoulder when the alcohol kicks in and he is too wasted, you don’t have someone to dance with or run away back home when your social battery dies. 

You don’t have him. 

And it sucks. 

But you try not to show it. You are trying to move on, and even if you hate how tortuous it feels this time and how you still look for his dumb-looking, slap-attracting, handsome, kissable face, you are trying. 

You are also failing. 

When the seventh drink of the night reaches your stomach, you’re not even sure you’d be able to answer if someone asked what’s your name. And you hate that a name is still loud and clear, ringing in your mind like a permanent reminder that maybe, just maybe, you are not getting over him. 

So, you drag your legs up and feel your head turn, everything is spinning but you need to find someone that will drown him out. You can’t keep going on like this. 

“Hi,” you mumble when you reach the bar and sit clumsily on the stool. 

“Oh, hi, babe. Look what we have here,” the man replies, studying you. 

“Wanna fuck?” 

“Oh, you go straight to the point, and I wouldn’t say no if only you didn’t look completely out of yourself.”

“I’m not,” you reply, shaking your head — terrible idea, everything spins faster, and you have to squeeze your eyes to find balance again. “I just had a few drinks.” 

“A few?” 

“Yeah. I can take you home,” you wink, caressing his arm with two fingers and the stranger chuckles before shaking his head.  

“I think we need to find somebody that knows you to take you home. Are you alone?” 

You shake your head. “You could take me home. I’m good, I give amaaazing blowjobs.”

“I don’t want to doubt your abilities, but you’re drunk,” he says, starting to look around, hoping to be lucky enough to make eye contact with someone you may know. 

“Come on, I need this. Is it because you think you can’t take me?” You still insist, pressing your finger on his chest in an accusative tone. 

He snorts, “I can take you, but sober. Hey,” he calls someone, waving his hand and at the same time trying to keep your body up with his other one. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Johnny’s voice is clear and too loud, especially when he groans your name angrily after you try to avoid him. 

“Do you know him?” 

“He’s my bestie,” you say, rolling your eyes. “My bad, bad bestie. He made me meet someone that broke my heart, don’t let me go with him, pleaseee.”

“Man, she needs aspirin and a bed.” 

Johnny nods, grabbing your arm and pulling you from the sit, “Yeah, I can see. Thank you for not taking advance of her.” 

“Should be the norm,” he smiles. “Take care. And maybe talk with whoever broke your heart.” 

“No,” you reply angrily, crossing your arms on your chest. “I’m mad at you,” you say to Johnny, trying to walk away from him but you need his support to don’t wiggle around like jelly. “You first say I need some fun and then the fun breaks my heart and now the fun at the bar is not okay because I’m not sober to you and him and why I can’t have nice things?” 

Johnny stares at you as if you’re crazy; he had seen you drunk but never like this, so miserable, and the fact he has not even a faint idea of how and why you are like this, doesn’t sit right with him. “Why don’t we sit in a corner and talk?” 

“I don’t want to. I want Haechan,” you slur out, collapsing on the sit and resting your head on his chest, but the music is loud and Johnny’s not sure he heard right. 

“You want who?” 

“Haehan,” you mumble against his shirt. 

“Okay, I don’t know who or what you want but we need to go home, come on. Please, drag your feet to the car, I’ll carry you inside your place but please, let’s just make it to the car.”

Johnny has to carry you to the car in his arms because you are a boneless mess and he doesn’t want to end the night at the hospital because you broke your ankles on those damn heels; mental reminder to gift you heels you can easily walk on even when you have more alcohol than blood running in your veins. 

The drive back home is a blur in your brain, you’re sure you’re not sleeping, but your head is spinning and at some point, you start shedding some tears and mumble chants of a name, Johnny supposes, but he can’t get it right. Your voice is low and groggy, and sobs come through every whimper that escapes your lips. 

“My place or yours?” He asks, hoping you can give him an answer, but you answer other doubts instead. 

“Hyuck,” you whisper, and Johnny finally has all the puzzle pieces to put together. 

When you wake up in the morning with a throbbing headache and your stomach turned upside down, the last thing you want to deal with is your best friends’ stares and glances he throws at you as if he knows something you don’t know he knows. 

You don’t ask him any questions right away, your brain is too far gone to deal with it, but after another aspirin and a coffee, you feel like you’re ready to face him. Except you’re not quite ready for what’s to come. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, rubbing your temples while you rest your elbows on his kitchen table. 

“Haechan,” he replies with a smirk on his face as if he finally got you right where he wanted you, cornered. And well, you feel like you are, and maybe you should’ve waited a bit longer cause your acting skills are not at their best right now, but you take another sip from your cup, shrug, and then reply nonchalantly. 

“What about him?”

Johnny’s eyes roll back as he huffs loudly. “Do we really have to do this?”

“Do what? You bring him up out of nowhere,” you say, but the calmness of your voice is being betrayed by the nervous bouncing of your leg and Johnny gets it immediately, and that’s when he shoots his arrow. 

“You love him.” 

“What?” You almost spit the coffee out while you stare at your best friend with wide eyes, hoping to see a reaction, hoping that this disgusted him to the point he will get up and focus on cleaning the table and insult you instead of twisting the knife in the wound that’s called ‘me and Haechan.’ But he’s impassive, and it’s written all over his face that he’s not buying it, or anyway, he wants to dig deep into all the secrets you kept from him. 

“You love him,” he repeats, and those words coming out so slowly from his mouth make shivers run down your spine. 

“I don’t,” you reply sternly, getting up to clean the spilled coffee and keep yourself busy.  

“You do. You slurred his name all the way back home and I thought I was crazy until you said Hyuck and hell no, that’s him.” Johnny reaches you and now you also feel physically cornered by his big body — why the hell is he so big? — and physically disgusted because you did what? And why couldn’t he leave you in somebody else home? Slurring his name to a stranger wouldn’t have been as embarrassing as what you did. 

“So? Are you going to answer? Or keep denying?” He presses you again, and before he can scold you as he usually does with an annoyed call of your name in a stern tone, you snap. 

“We used to fuck, okay?”

“You did what?” Johnny almost screams at your face, and you push him back to walk to the living room. 

“Don’t be surprised, you literally set us up.” 

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me? What happened to our friendship and our rules.” Johnny’s voice cracks as he tries to accept that you, his best friend, sister of another mother, and partner in crimes, really kept all of this behind him.  

“Oh, screw rules, all those fucking rules I never know how to respect,” you huff, falling on the couch and holding your head in your hands. And Johnny has to rub his temples because all of this is insane and surreal to his ears.  

“You don’t know how to respect them? You. Miss little rules?”

“Shut up.” 

“Wait… your rules about sex? Are you talking about all that crap you believe won’t make you catch feelings?” 

“It never made me catch feelings. It always worked. Clear boundaries, good sex, and everybody on their way.” 

Johnny smirks, kneeling in front of you so you can’t avoid his gaze anymore. “You broke them.” 

“I didn’t,” you mutter, and you want to slap his face because why is he having so much fun seeing your breakdown?

“You did. You just told me; you got mad when I mentioned them, and you wouldn’t get mad unless something didn’t go as you planned.” 

“Nothing happened,” you retort, leg bouncing progressively faster as you feel your heart race and your body burn.  

“No, you broke them.”

“I didn’t.” 

“You fell in love with him.” 

“Don’t,” you stop him with a glare that doesn’t scare away the smirk on his face. Instead, the look in your eyes, the way your lips are twitching, and your continuous nervous movements are everything Johnny needs to let him know he’s right. 

“You fell in love with Haechan.” 

You almost scream when those words roll from his lips, you hate hearing that thought, that fear that has been lingering in your brain every night for a month now. “Shut up, don’t make things up. I broke the rules of not telling you we fucked.” 

“Oh, no, girl, I know you. You’re fidgeting with your fingers, and your voice is shaking, you’re straight-up lying and you can sell that bullshit to anybody else but not me, so spill the fuck you have to spill or else we’re going to have a long day.” 

“There’s nothing to know. We started fucking, and then stopped, but I’m in my unlucky month and I don’t find anybody that’s good enough to satisfy me. And that’s why I’m breaking rules, I like to have fun, but I don’t like to try so many people and fuck with every person I see, you know I hate it.” 

“Then why are you doing it? Your toys are not enough anymore?” 

“Yeah, I’ll stick to them,” you cut it short, trying to avoid his eyes because you know you will fall. Johnny has this power of dragging things out of your mouth, you’re lucky he didn’t get the tiniest hint of what was going on between you and Haechan or he would’ve made you face some painful truths a long time ago. 

“If it was so good, why did you stop?” 

You shrug. Fuck. 

“That’s not an answer.” 

“I don’t know, he wanted to see new people and we just stopped.” 

“Really?” Johnny asks with a teasing edge to his voice, clearly mocking you. “He’s not seeing anybody.” 

“Maybe he didn’t tell you. You didn’t know about us, and we were both friends with you, so. Or maybe he didn’t find another one, just like me.” 

“He seems rather heartbroken, and he asked a weird question about you.” 

Now it’s your time to be shocked. He asks about you? He doesn’t hate you after the way you treated him? You’re still in his mind? No, why would any of this matter? Why do you care? It doesn’t matter. “What?” Well, it shouldn’t matter. 

“If everything was alright or if something happened to you.” 

“Just checking on people is normal.” You shake it off with a nod and raise of shoulders, but something inside you is burning. It’s that flame you think you put out and yet found a way to spark up every time you don’t think about it. 

“Not asking if something happened,” he says before walking around and studying you. You are avoiding his gaze and are a raging ball of nervousness, you weren’t even like this with your ex-boyfriend, let alone with your few hook-ups. And then something else clicks in his brain. “Did you cut him off without a word?” And when you don’t answer, and he calls out your name with urgency, you can’t lie anymore. 

“Maybe,” you reply with a loud groan, your head falling backwards with force, hitting the backrest so hard you hurt yourself even if there’s the cushion dividing you from the hard surface. “Maybe I did.”  

“Why?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know?” He shouts, throwing his hands over his head.

“Johnny, please, I don’t need a lecture right now, okay? I know I was rude, and an asshole.” 

“No, you’re in love, it’s different.” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Why are you lying? You never called your ex-boyfriend’s name while you were wasted, you never broke any of your rules for him, it took you nothing to move on, and the only reason you got back was because you wanted revenge and because you needed to fill your life with something. You never cared for him nearly as half of what you care for Haechan, so why lie, and why lie to me?” 

“I don’t want to,” you sniffle, suddenly feeling your brain spin again while your nails sink into the fabric of the pants Johnny gave you.

“Talk to me?” 

“No, to love him.” 

There it is; the loud confession. That confession you didn’t even do to yourself alone in the darkness of your room. It’s still bouncing against the walls of Johnny’s place in plain sight under the bright daylight and it pierces your ears and your heart. 

Fuck. You’re screwed. 

Your eyes lock with Johnny’s and your brain would like to lie and mumble some nonsense but your heart can’t keep bleeding without being taken care of anymore. So, hot salt starts streaming down your face silently and your head faces the ground while two strong arms wrap around you. 

You’re screwed. 

When you’ve cried all your tears in Johnny’s arms, and you feel like you can try to put it down to words you do it. Maybe with Johnny by your side, it will be easier. 

“I don’t know what the hell he did to me.” 

“That’s a nice start.” 

“I’m not saying I didn’t consider the possibility of this going down a different path and starting to allow feelings in but… like this? I’ve never felt like this before, not even when I fell first, and I’m not even sure I’ve ever loved somebody before if this is how it’s supposed to feel.” 

“Then why don’t just let yourself go for once? You don’t have to always have everything under control.” 

“But I’m scared. I hated seeing him with someone that wasn’t me. The mere idea of him being with somebody else now makes me sick. This is scary.” 

“Love can be scary at times, but that’s what it is.” 

You breathe in deeply and rub your temples. “But what if it’s wrong? What if… God, I’m doing all this and I’m not even sure he likes me back.” 

“Well, if it’s right, you know, right?” 

You shrug, you thought it was right so many times before, and then it never was but this felt different, everything about Haechan hits different, it truly was like an arrow straight to your heart purposefully made to hit you straight to the core and cut you deep. 

Johnny sighs, you already talked too much today and faced the truth, he knows he can’t push you any further. 

“I’m not saying you have to take him back but… sometimes you can take the good things life gives you without tearing them into pieces. It will tear you into pieces if you keep putting rules to things that are destined to flow freely.”

Going back to the coast feels like torture, especially when both you and Haechan forgot to ask Johnny if the other was there and found out only when you hopped out of the cars and locked eyes after months. 

No, you didn’t pick up the phone even after that conversation with Johnny. It felt humiliating to crawl back to him after so much time, so you decided that whatever was going on, was destined to die. 

But when your eyes jump into his again, and cheesily, it feels like the time had stopped, you’re not so sure whatever was, or is, going on, is destined to die.

It’s awkward when you don’t know if you should greet him or not, but luckily in the mess of everyone greeting each other, you lose him in the ‘crowd’ of friends. Fortunately, most of them found somebody to bring along so there are double of people than the last time. Unfortunately, that leads you and Haechan to the same room of this summer. Of course, nobody knows, and you’re not quick enough to retort when Mark decides like this after sorting everybody else in other rooms, and Johnny’s not there to save your ass — probably he wouldn’t. 

The tension can be cut with a knife and you feel like your head is exploding while you two make your way to the room and then start to put your things in place. 

“I can sleep on the couch,” Haechan says, breaking the suffocating silence. 

“No, it’s fine,” you almost choke on your words, unprepared, non-expecting he would talk to you first, “we did worse things together,” you chuckle, trying to lighten up the mood but you only get a forced snicker back before he turns around and gives you his back again. You know that wasn’t the smartest answer you could give, but you don’t know how to ease the tension and the heavy weight of guilt in the pit of your stomach. 

You want to talk, that should be the right moment to do it, to apologize, at least. But you’re tongue-tied. 

“Is there even something to do here during winter?” He speaks, still giving you his back, and it takes you a while to understand he’s addressing you. 

“Uhm, yes,” you reply. “The city is nice, and there are mountains just forty minutes away from here so… usually with our families we used to ski.” 

“Great,” Haechan hums, standing up, brushing his hands on his pants to flatten the creases of the fabric, “never done it before. Guess I’ll take a look around town. Last time I didn’t get to visit it,” he smiles before walking out and you feel the ground collapse under your feet. 

You won’t survive three days like this. 

You hated spending time in that house during winter when you were a child, the sun didn’t shine bright enough, the sand was wet and sticky, and you didn’t know how to ski, also you never got why your family spent so much money on that sport when they clearly weren’t as rich as Johnny’s parents, and no one of you was good enough for it to even be fun. 

Now nothing changed, the cloudy weather over the sea is depressing, and watching your friends have fun is not making you feel any better, you still don’t know how to ski, and you have a lump in your throat as your brain runs faster than you, screaming how you put yourself in this situation. 

The tea in your hand is not hot enough, you wasted too much time stealing glimpses at Haechan and his new crush to drink it when Johnny served it to everybody after all of you came back from the — for you terrible — ski session this afternoon. You didn’t do anything but sit on a bench and hold back your tears while everybody else was having fun. You should’ve stayed at home, it would’ve been better than having to deal with Wonyoung — apparently, that was her name — laugh and giggle every time Haechan opened his mouth, or their intertwined hands while they both tried to learn how to use the ski. And now it’s not going better, she’s sitting on his lap while he caresses her hair with one hand and the other draws circles on her palm, and all your friends are sharing knowing glares as they point at them. 

You never had that with him, and the jealousy mixes with bitterness, until you realize that the arrangement you had didn’t include any of that. So why did you want it so much? Why do you want to be her so badly right now? 

You sigh, running a finger on the mug in front of you, staring at the brownish liquid as if by magic you’re going to see your future in it, but you think it’s better like this, you’re pretty sure the picture would be a tragedy anyway. 

When the talks get irritating, you decide to go back to your room, not even saying anything, you’re not sure about what they want to do, it was in the air to eat at a place downtown but you didn’t pay their talks much attention. You decide to go for a shower with the hope it will relax you and wash away some heaviness, but nothing much changes once you’re out and dressed up in clean clothes. It only gets worse when you open your room, and Haechan is there, laying on the bed with a hand behind his head and his phone in the other. 

You pass in front of him, not saying a word, silently putting back in your purse your shampoo and conditioner, and other things you carried with you. He doesn’t talk either. It has been like this the whole day, barely acknowledging each other and now it’s getting too heavy. You owe him an apology, not to make things get back in place, they never will, but because he didn’t deserve it. 

“I’m sorry I pushed you away,” you say, turning around, “I’m sorry I avoided you.” 

Haechan lifts his head, a small frown connecting his brows for a while, almost as if he’s trying to get what you’re referring to, and when he does, the muscles of his face relax. “It’s fine.” 

“No, it’s not. I didn’t want to… to leave you like this.” 

“It doesn’t matter, you had all the right to stop it,” he shrugs, looking down for a second, probably closing the app on his phone because you don’t hear the faint sound of the video playing anymore. “I don’t cry for sex.” 

You hum, but you study his face to understand if he’s serious. Was it just sex for him? Were you just sex for him? 

“I…” you stop and look away. Your leg is bouncing nervously and you’re playing with your fingers, pressing your nails into your skin. “I have to tell you something.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I lo—” 

“Haechannie!” Wonyoung’s voice rings loudly in the room, stopping you from going on. “We are taking a look around, want to come with me and keep me warm? Also, we’ll have dinner together.” You shouldn’t find the way she bats her eyes so irritating, neither her voice, or the way she’s looking at him right now, but you feel like puking, and you hope Haechan will decline; out of all the things he said before, you heard he was tired and wanted to go to bed, so he will say no, right? 

“Yeah, I’d love to. Be there in a minute.” 

“Ah! You’re the best, baby,” she cheers, running to leave a kiss on his cheeks and then walking out. 

“You were saying?” He asks, turning his attention on you, shaking his hair out of his forehead. 

You shake your head, gulping. “Nothing,” you smile, it’s forced and fake, and if he’d look closely, he’d see a tear at the corner of your eyes, but he doesn’t. He’s looking at you with his head slightly tilted in mild concern, but you know it’s just for niceties. 

“It seemed serious, though?” 

“It was just another apology you don’t want,” you breathe out in a bitter chuckle, rubbing your hands on your thighs while your gaze meets the floor. “I lost track of myself during the time we drifted apart, I’m sorry it… it fired back to you.” 

“Oh,” he says, “it’s fine, seriously. I just care that you’re fine. You are fine, right?” 

You hold back a sob and smile, feeling tears at the corner of your eyes. “Never been better.” 

“Good,” he smiles. “You coming?” 

“No, I’m tired, I’ll go to bed like a child that has school tomorrow at 8.” 

Haechan laughs and then grabs his jacket. “’Kay, don’t take all the bed. You still have that bad habit, don’t you?” 

You chuckle, giving him an apologetic look, “I have a bed too big for me only, I’m not used to sharing.” 

He nods and then opens the door. “Leave a small patch for me, and don’t have too much fun all alone,” he winks. 

You smile and then wave him goodbye. 

If crying yourself to sleep was fun, you were about to have the funniest night of your life.

“Been a while, isn’t it?” 

The last thing you expect to find in the morning is Haechan’s face looking down at you with a teasing smirk while you rest too close to his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, sitting up in the blink of an eye, trying to rub the sleep off your face and scoot away from him. 

Haechan scoffs under his breath, painting that bitterness with irony, “It’s nice to know you didn’t change.” 

You chuckle awkwardly and then jump off the bed. 

“No, definitely didn’t change,” he whispers when you run away from his fingers again. He wants to block you in, to stop you from slipping away, but if he couldn’t do it months ago, he doesn’t see how he can do it now. After all, you’ve never been his. This isn’t different from what you used to do in the morning, now he looks at you and can see that nothing changed. You’re up, putting your hair in a ponytail, rushing to the bathroom to wash up, and he knows you won’t even come back into the room, but run downstairs to have breakfast. 

You are long gone and he doesn’t even know how and why he lost you. Maybe it’s better like this, maybe all this silence coming from you can give him a reason to hate you and move on. 

But moving on from you seems something impossible to do. 

From that moment on, you two decide you can go back to at least be friends and hang out in the same group again. It’s not exactly like before, but it’s better than silence and distance. 

Or maybe not. 

You can’t stand that Haechan doesn’t sit next to you anymore, he’s always on the other side with Wonyoung, and you can’t bet on it, but you fear that his hand is now resting on her thigh and you hate it. 

You don’t show it, not with words, but your body is a neon sign flashing that you don’t want to be there, especially when everyone leaves to take on the dance floor and you’re left with your thoughts. 

“Why are you always alone?” Mark asks. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Minjeong, but I can still see you’re beautiful and hot, why are you the only single one?” 

“The only one?” That’s the only thing your brain registers, making you stare at him with eyes too wide to make it pass like a normal reaction. 

“Well, it seems that even Hyuck found someone that can stand his annoying ass,” he jokes, pointing at him and Wonyoung. 

“Oh, I didn’t get they were official,” you whisper, your lips quiver, making it look like a smile but it’s pure sadness. 

“So it seems, he’s quite private over this.” 

You hum and feel your heart break into million pieces again. It shouldn’t hit you so hard and leave you trembling, but it does. 

“What about you?” 

You shrug, rubbing your arms. “I’m the problem, that’s why I’m single.” 

Mark chuckles tenderly, sitting next to you. “So, you’re heartbroken.” 

“Maybe.” 

“Was it serious?” 

“It wasn’t even started.” 

“Oh, well, isn’t that better? Maybe it wasn’t even love,” he attempts to lift you up, trying to see it from another perspective. “A lot of times what we tend to consider love is not it. It’s just a lie, something else dressed up as a feeling that is not that deep.” 

Yeah, you wish it was it. 

“Yeah, surely,” you reply, by now there are no emotions in your voice. “I don’t care, I moved on. I just hate sitting here while looking miserable.” 

“Why don’t you go talk to someone? I think that girl at the bar is looking at you?” 

“Maybe,” you whisper, not even caring to follow his finger to see the girl that is, in fact, looking at you. “Sorry, I need to go to the bathroom before hitting on people I don’t know,” you joke, smiling at him and letting a laugh follow. 

Mark copies you before his hand touches your arm and pats it gently. “It will be fine.” 

You nod before pulling your lips into another forced smile. You hope so. 

You don’t walk toward the bar, your want to even find someone that can take you home is nowhere to be found, and you sit in a corner to stare at Haechan from afar. He can’t be in love with her, right? But then again, why shouldn’t he? 

That torture lasts for a while, and when you think you paid the price for your sin, you grab your things and exit. Sure, you intend to go inside again, Johnny dropped you there, but not now. You need to cool off, and shut your brain. You don’t know how, your method was Haechan but now he is the reason why your mind keeps running a thousand miles per hour. 

You’ll find a way, you always did. 

“You shouldn’t do that,” Haechan says, leaning next to you against the wall. 

A grin curls your lips, and you partly open your eyes to make sure he’s real and not made up by your mind. He is very much real, with his denim jacket that doesn’t keep him any warm and his — now black — hair falling on his face, while his eyes look at you with too much concern. “I tend to self-sabotage a lot,” you whisper, huffing out the air, “you should know it.” 

“Yeah, not like this.” 

“Hey, I was smoking it!” You scream when he slaps your hand, not hard to hurt you, but hard enough to make the cigarette fall to the ground. 

“Since when?” 

You roll your eyes, watching the cig on the floor becoming completely useless now that he’s stepping on it, and then you shrug, “I don’t smoke, some guy offered it to me, and I wanted to see if it has any kick.”

“Why?” 

“Why do you care? I’m not your problem.” Your eyes are not on him, staring straight into the night that falls upon the road in front of you, but you can feel his stare burning into your skin. Also, he’s close, and you’re not used to having him this close anymore. 

He snorts and you glare at him, but that doesn’t faze him. “You said you were doing fine; it doesn’t look like it.” 

“I’m just tired, I want to go home, that’s it.” 

“You barely talked, danced, or did anything the whole night,” he points out, rubbing his chin and raising a brow.

“Oh, so you don’t only have eyes for your girlfriend,” you spit out before you can realize it. 

“Girlfriend?” He tilts his head, and his lips twitch into a barely visible smirk.

“Yeah, the fake blonde.” 

Haechan laughs, “Jealous, babe?” 

“No. And don’t call me babe. I’m not your problem and I’m not your babe.” 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he says resolutely. 

“Oh, well, ‘cause she’s all over your dick so it looked like.” 

Another laugh rolls from his lips, this time louder and without a nervous grin hidden behind. “You are jealous.” 

“I’m not,” you retort, frowning.

“You were the one all over my dick, and you decided to stop that.” 

“I wasn’t like that. I was on your dick, having the best orgasms of my life, but I never humiliated myself in front of you doing silly voices, calling you Haechannieee, or touching you as if you were about to be kidnapped by the aliens and I wouldn’t have had the chance to see you ever again, or looked at you with those eyes that could — well, you get the picture.” 

“Oh, I do. You are so fucking jealous and it’s kinda turning me on, I have to admit,” he teases you with a smug smirk on his face.  

“Shut up, asshole,” you smack his arm. “Go back to her.” 

“Nah, the aliens are kidnapping me, I guess she’ll have to spend the rest of the night alone.” 

You glare at him, eyes dropping on your intertwined arms in disbelief when he links them and starts walking away from there. 

“Come on, I’m hungry,” he urges, pushing you with more force. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, gesturing nervously with your hands and looking back at the club that was disappearing behind you. 

“Taking you to our favourite hamburger place, I could eat you right now for how starved I am.” 

“I wouldn’t complain,” you wink shamelessly.   

“Not like that,” he says. “I’m not sure you deserve it after the way you behaved.” 

You huff but follow him, keeping up with his fast steps, until you reach his car and jump inside. It’s been a while since you’ve been there, and when you stop and think about what happened in the backseats your body heats up, but you try not to think about that, and instead turn on the heater and the music how you like. Haechan only laughs lowly, and you know he doesn’t mind, after all these months he knows you can pass as bossy sometimes, and like things in a certain way, so he lets you. 

“I told you I’m sorry and you said it was fine,” you retort, not letting his remark of before go unnoticed. 

“You just don’t read me, do you? Like, fuck, you are hard to read but I’m an open book and you truly think that shit didn’t hurt?” 

“I think it hurt you that’s why I felt like shit, and that’s why with each passing day I couldn’t bring myself to talk to you. I get scared when things go well, and it’s not right, it’s not healthy, and I know I hurt you, but I’m sorry, I truly am. You can ask Johnny, he knows it.” 

“Yeah, I know he knows.” 

“You know he knows?” You scream. It is always Johnny’s fault.

“I know he knows,” he replies with too much calm for your liking. “He had to spill something when I thought you hated me, and I couldn’t sleep thinking about what I could’ve done wrong. He told me you didn’t hate me, that you are dumb and don’t know how to deal with anything in your life that doesn’t follow exactly the path you traced, and I thought ‘oh yeah, seems fitting of her, not surprised’ and moved on… well, tried to.” 

“Oh,” you gasp. 

“Oh?” He snorts, shaking his head. “All you can say?” 

“Do you want me to spend the whole ride saying I’m an asshole?” 

Haechan laughs, “It would be entertaining but I will save you from humiliation.” 

“Thanks,” you utter, looking out of the window and grinning. This is wild, all over the place, and smells like the calm before the storm, but you like it because you’re back with him by your side. 

When you arrive at what used to be your place, you sit at your table while he orders your usual. For him, a double cheeseburger and for you, the big fries’ portion with a sauce that only that place makes — that you would’ve shared with him but only if he begged well enough. 

“I missed this,” he whispers after a few minutes when you’re both halfway through your order.  

“The burger? Yeah, I missed this sauce, God, I will find someone that sells this.” 

“I missed this, dumbass,” he says, and you feel your heart in your throat when your eyes meet, and he has that glint that you love so much. It’s like a light shining through, and some softness that only shows up in certain moments, you still don’t know what causes it, but you love it.

“Oh, I… I missed this too,” you mumble, diverting the gaze and cleaning your mouth with the napkin to keep yourself busy.

“Wow, wow, wow, wait, you? Getting a tiny, little, small, fainty, invisible bit sentimental?” 

“Stupid! You make me look like a heartless bitch.” 

Haechan raises his brows and cocks his head to the side.

“Don’t look at me with that face. You know I’m not.” 

“You are.” 

“I broke my rules for you!” You confess in the heat of the moment, raising your voice, the last words coming out in a squeak. 

Oh, shit.

Haechan is confused and you don’t know how to save yourself. 

“Rules?” He asks with a frown as he stops midway with his hamburger in hand. 

“It’s nothing,” you shrug, grabbing the cola and bringing it to your lips.

He swallows, shaking his head to try to understand if he got it right. “You had rules?” 

“I didn’t.” You try to focus on the fries now, but even the window looks tempting, it’s near and you could easily escape from there and ghost him agai—

“So, maybe you are not a cold, heartless, emotionless, impenetrable, untouchable, person after all?” 

You sigh, rubbing your neck, and giving up the escape plan. Like the old times, you can give him what he wants without actually giving him what he wants, right? Just a small peek into yourself and then he’s out. “I let you sleep in my bed, only three people had the honour, Johnny, unfortunately my ex, and you.” 

Haechan’s lips curl up and his nose twitches. “You are the sweetest person for breaking your rule.” 

“That’s not a rule,” you lie but this time he falls for it.

“Then what were the rules?” 

“Just eat, and then let’s go home. You’re so curious for no reason.” 

“Yeah, you shared too much tonight, would never want to stress you,” he jokes before stealing one of your fries and send you a flying kiss. 

“Thanks for the food,” you say when you both reach the door of your apartment. He usually wouldn’t come out of the car to walk you to the door of the complex, and even less he would reach the apartment door. But you didn’t stop him when he followed you in the elevator, you didn’t even flinch, almost as if that was how it was supposed to be. 

“Nothing,” he smiles. “It was fun, talking and you know, just us, like the old times.” 

You chuckle tenderly, nodding while trying to find the courage to ask one more thing, “Want to come in?” 

“I don’t have a toothbrush at your place,” he laughs, reminding you that in the heat of the rush, you never went back to pick up all your things at his place. 

“I should have a new one in the cabinet.” 

Things go back to normal after that. You’re not sure it’s healthy, considering you didn’t confess your feelings, aren’t sure he feels the same, he had to be honest with Wonyoung without making any names because you two still want this to be private, and the only confrontations you had on your detachment were those two talks. But it’s fine. 

The good sex is back. Haechan is back. You are back. The tension in the air is gone and you can enjoy the nights out without Mark worrying about you looking more dead than alive. And Johnny thinks you finally let loose. 

But you didn’t. Some fears still linger inside of you and sometimes are stronger than others times. 

“Fuck,” you mumble, “do you really have to push me against the metal bar?” 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Haechan laughs, pulling away from the kiss. 

“Don’t laugh! This furniture is a menace to society, you need to find something else to put in your entrance,” you say, rubbing your back. 

“If you weren’t horny like a bunny and waited at least to the couch to jump on me, I wouldn’t push you against it,” he says, wrapping his arms around you and starting to walk into the leaving room. 

“I can’t stand you,” you whisper through the kiss, struggling to get him out of his clothes, but after a while, almost everything is scattered on the floor of his living room and you two are rushing to his bedroom. 

“Is it softer for my princess?” He teases when he pushes you down on the mattress and hovers over you. 

You roll your eyes but still hum. “I have the back of an 80-year-old, you need to respect that.” 

“Doesn’t look like it when I fuck you all night,” he laughs. 

“Should we test it?” You’re done playing around. After a dinner out, and an hour driving around town, because you wanted to see the city lights, you needed him. The flirts were unbearable and also it had been the longest week of your life. 

And Haechan doesn’t make you repeat it twice, his hands reach your panties and slip between your legs, meeting the wetness that’s collected there. He doesn’t even bother to pull your underwear down, he pushes two fingers into your welcoming warm entrance and starts pumping in and out right away. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, staring in awe between your legs, “you take me so fucking well. Missed my fingers? That’s why you sent those photos the other day, ‘cause yours aren’t enough anymore and you were hoping I would’ve rushed here to fuck you.” 

You curse, “Don’t act as if you didn’t start it.” 

He scoffs, “It was just a hand pic, needed to know your opinion about the new watch and rings.” 

“And the thighs picture?” You try to sound menacing, but his fingers are making your voice tremble, and picturing those images in your mind doesn’t help you either. 

“Liked the new grey shorts? They’re pretty, right?” 

“Fuck off, Haechan,” you gasp, and he laughs deeply. 

“It’s so easy to mess with you,” he coos, leaning in to leave a peck on your lips. “Was the jacking off video enough to make it up for the teasing?” 

“No,” you cry out. He couldn’t play with you like that, sending you a video of him fucking his fist while he moaned and whimpered. You had spent the past six days replaying it, waiting for this moment to come, and even if he was so hot even through the camera, you needed to feel him inside, outside, everywhere.  

“Is this enough?” 

“Yes,” you moan, opening your eyes to meet his. “Just — fuck — go faster, please.” 

His lips curl upward while his two fingers start moving at a faster speed, you almost come on the spot when he presses a hand on top of your stomach and moves his thumb in circles on your clit. Your whimpered ‘too much’ gets shut down when his lips fall on yours and start kissing you. You feel lightweight, entire body reacting to his touches and kisses, playing you like a violin. His mouth is delicate and addictive and you find yourself thinking nobody ever kissed you like that. You can’t put a name on whatever ‘that’ is, but you love it. 

“Why are you kissing me like that?” 

“Like what?” He whispers, huffing air against your wet lips and staring straight into your eyes. 

Like you mean it. 

“Nothing, just —” your lips meet his again while your fingers tangle in his hair and his free hand runs on your smaller back, pushing you flat against him. “Fuck.” You feel his digits deeper and your brain starts spinning faster while your boobs rise fast trapped in the lingerie that is still on your body. 

“Hyuck,” you cry out, reaching his wrist to slow his movement since you feel too sensitive. 

“I’m not stopping, babe. You’ve been thinking about this for days.” 

“I — I know but —”

He shushes you again with kisses while he moves your hips so he can hit exactly where he wants, making you scream out when his fingertips start slamming quickly against your sweet spot. You are breathless and you feel your stomach tighten while your legs spread to give him space to give you everything. 

“Come for me, come on,” he encourages, pressing delicate kisses on your rising chest and whispering praises. 

Your scream pierces the bedroom of his apartment when one twist of his wrist makes your high explode. Your nails dig deep into his arm in response as the sensations feel overwhelming when he doesn’t stop right away, making sure he’s getting every last drop out of you. 

“Hyu-hyuck, enough — enough, please,” you snarl, hips bucking up in erratic motions that make him smirk proudly. 

“I have a surprise for you,” he says before licking his fingers clean after he pulled out of you reluctantly. He loved making you come with his fingers only, watching them move past your pussy, while your cum coated them and dripped down his wrist and your ass, he loved how he could be all over you. 

You don’t reply but you feel it’s something to be afraid of since he’s looking at you with a devilish grin on his face. 

“Wanna see it?” He smirks, jumping off the bed and shoving his boxers down, finally giving you a sight of his hard throbbing dick. 

You hum lowly in reply, forcing your eyes up from between his thighs and following him with your gaze as he walks to the closet and roams through something before he comes back to you with one hand behind his back. 

“You’re scaring me,” you breathe out. 

“I’m sure you’ll love it.” 

Your mouth opens in surprise when he pulls out a small wand vibrator. It’s not the first time you use a toy, though you never had a vibrator of that kind, you’re just worried about what he wants to do with that. 

“You won’t edge me, right?” 

“Why not?” He asks, starting to jerk his hard cock, collecting pre-cum and making it fall on your lower stomach. “You look so pretty when no coherent words come out of your mouth and your eyes are empty… well, filled with lust and me, but empty of anything else.” 

You groan, about to lift your torso but he pushes you back right away. “Don’t move,” he orders sternly, caressing your inner thigh as he slowly drags your panties down, leaving you bare, and then pulls you closer. His cock brushes over your pussy, but that’s not where you need him. 

Haechan laughs, seeing the desperation in your eyes, finding it funny you’re truly thinking he won’t fuck you. “Honey, I need this pussy just as much as you need my cock, I won’t disappoint you,” he groans and then drives his hips back to align himself to your gaping entrance. 

“Why do you always make me wait,” you cry out. 

“Because it wouldn’t be funny otherwise,” he clicks his tongue, wrapping a hand on the base of his dick and then smearing your wetness everywhere on your pussy, but he doesn’t slip in. “Should we try this new toy before?” 

You huff loudly, rolling your head back and the laugh that resonates through his ribcage makes you want to slap him but you’re left breathless once again when the vibrator starts buzzing right against your clit. 

“Shit,” you curse, fingers gripping the sheets tightly and toes curling. “Haechan.” 

“Yeah, that’s my name,” he taunts, playing with the different speeds and you know that’s not the first time he had the toy in hand, he doesn’t need to try it, he just wants to drive you insane, keeping you on the edge as the rhythm keeps changing and the fat tip of his cock is still pressing halfway into your cunt. 

“Please,” you beg, opening your closed eyes and struggling to even breathe out that single word as he keeps messing with you. 

“Please, what?” He leans down, he’s so close your noses almost touch and his breath hits your lips. “Use your words, babe.” 

You inhale deeply, breathe breaking in the middle when he goes back to the higher frequency and you come on the spot, stilling as the rushes of pleasure invade your body and put a proud smirk on his face. 

“Was that what you wanted?” He questions, kindly lowering the vibrations and pushing just a bit more of his tip into you. 

“No,” you cry out, “want you.” 

He quirks a brow, caressing your cheeks gently and kissing your lips. “Will you ask nicely?” He says, but when you only part your lips to let out sinful sounds and barely shake your head, he snaps. “I’m sorry, maybe I wasn’t clear,” he fakes a sweet tone before he growls and slaps your clit, “ask nicely.” 

You gasp, feeling sparks rush through you when the spank hits. “Please, Haechan, please fuck me. I — I need you to fuck me. I’ve been — shit — thinking about you all week, wanted to — to feel your body and — nggh — your touch, please.” You feel on the verge of tears as the vibrator keeps going on your clit and the man between your legs is barely inside you. 

But maybe that’s enough for him, maybe you did great and he will give you what you want. 

“How much do you need me?” 

Or maybe not. 

“So much, so, so, so much. I dreamed of you, day and night, mhh,” you swallow a moan, fighting against another orgasm. “Fuck me ‘til I forget my name, please?” 

Haechan moans, bottoming into you in a second, finally giving you what you deserve.

“Oh, God,” you gasp out when he fills you up, feeling overflowing with emotions. “Please, fuck me,” you don’t waste time begging again. You need him to move, to send you into the spiral of emptiness and fullness only he can push you into. 

“I leave you starving for a week or less and you go completely crazy,” he mocks, picking up the rhythm he knows you love while he keeps the toy in place. “My greedy baby, aren’t you?” 

You’re deep down that spiral because that sweet, condescending tone and the possessive pronoun don’t make you mad but instead, they make your heart jump to your throat and your heat clench around him. 

He smirks when you don’t reply and angles your hips better so he can reach where he has you trembling. 

“You’re making a mess, fuck,” he groans, drifting his gaze from your face to look between your legs. “You love this toy. Picked a nice gift, haven’t I?” 

The teasing, bragging tone of his voice would make you talk back to him but you can’t say much. The intermitted buzzing of the toy and the never-ending pounding of his dick are driving you wild. Your head is rolled back and you don’t even care to shut down your moans, fuck the neighbours, after you two heard them fuck for three hours straight last week this was fair payback. 

“Hyuck,” you cry louder when he changes the rhythm again and this time the vibration builds up slowly before crashing down, kinda like waves. “You’ll — fuck — too good.”

“I’ll what, babe?” He grins. “Make you come again? Drive you insane?” 

You nod, jaw slack because you feel like you can’t breathe in enough air. And when the nth orgasm breaks through, tears erupt down your face. Haechan’s gentle enough to pull the toy away, probably not cause it’s a genuine move of heart but only because he’s too lost in your blissed face. 

“Fuck,” he curses, shakily moving his fingers to caress your wet cheeks. The last time he saw you cry wasn’t a great view, and it was because of an asshole, but this time he is the reason for those tears, and they look so beautiful on your pretty, overwhelmed face. He thinks he loves when you get so vulnerable with him, he doesn’t even care that you only get like this during sex, he still has that power over you, and knowing you, this is already the biggest sign of trust you can gift him. “You’re so pretty, you know?” 

A dumb smile paints on your face as your hands reach for him to pull him closer. You feel like your brain is melting and your bones are ashes but you want to feel that skin-on-skin contact more. You want him all over you, deeper into you, seeping into the smallest creases of you so that you can’t wash him away for days. 

Haechan moans your name in a heated kiss when you clench around him. “Taking me so fucking well, that’s my good girl,” he praises, pushing back again on your lips. “My good girl.” 

“Yours,” you whimper through moans and sobs. 

“Yeah, mine,” he whispers back, changing the angle of his thrust so he can hit your sweet spot better and exactly how you like. But right now is just too much for you, between your clit being endlessly stimulated, his cock hitting deep into you and his lips and hands on your body, you’re sure you can’t drag this longer. 

“Don’t you fucking dare pull away, hands off,” he scolds, swatting your hand away when you try to get between him and the vibrator. 

“It’s too much,” you whimper, “I can’t anymore.” 

“Yes, you can, babe. Just one more,” he whispers against your lips, kissing you softly to calm you down. “Can you take one more for me?” He still checks, slowing his movements and slowing down the speed of the wand. 

You hum, breathing out a choked positive answer and he smiles happily, picking up his ministrations inside of you and on your lips. “Good girl,” he praises, “taking it all, taking me so well. I —” he stops, panic flicking behind his eyes but yours are closed and you’re too lost to feel the same rush of fear into you. “I’m so proud of you.” 

Your heart jumps in your chest, and you feel like you could melt. Praises have never done anything to you until they started coming out of his mouth. They didn’t feel like a mock anymore, or like a nicety said just to be cliché and repeat some erotica-porn-type catchphrase. You know he means it. 

Your eyes snap open when he starts fucking you faster, turning the vibration at that high setting and never changing it until you would’ve been done. Curse spill from your lips, but Haechan catches them all inside his mouth. He doesn’t do it to keep you silent, Mark’s not home anyway, he does it for another reason. Almost as if he’s addicted to your lips, or you. 

“Hyuck,” you breathe out. 

“I know, baby. I know,” he coos before sticking his face in the crook of your neck to smear wet pecks on your skin. “Come with me, okay?” 

You hum, shaking your head in quick motions and trapping your lower lip in your teeth because you know your moans would be screams by now, and before the neighbours might mislead this beautiful sex for a crime scene, you try to keep it under control. Haechan is not as careful as you, his velvety, deep moans slip freely and you can’t blame him, your pussy must be gripping him tighter than ever before and be just as wet, the lewd wet sounds are a clear indication of how turned on you are. 

And something between all that makes you both reach your climax, panting and squirming against each other before you go slack on the mattress and he collapses on top of you, thoughtful enough to turn off the toy and threw it at the side of the bed. 

You feel lost in a haze when you turn around and snuggle closer to him, breathing in his scent and running your fingers on his chest. You look up and see him smiling lazily at you, and you reciprocate. 

“You amaze me sometimes,” he whispers mindlessly, letting his hand run on your back, reaching your hair to brush some strands, following their natural pattern. 

You chuckle, “For taking your cock so well?” 

He snorts, rolling his eyes and leaning closer to you; the temptation to kiss you is strong, and weirdly enough you still haven’t moved back, but he knows he can’t risk it. “For taking everything I give you so well.” 

“Fair.” 

You stay there for a while more, waiting for your bodies to recharge a bit but the more he holds you in his arms the more you feel sleep take over you. But you both know you can’t sleep in those conditions, so Haechan breaks the magic. 

“Should we order something to eat and in the meanwhile take a bath?” 

You stretch, and hum. “If you carry me to the bathroom.” 

Once he has ordered food and you’re both sitting in the bathtub, you let the warmth of the water wrap around you. It feels nice after the exhausting sex, and you love the scent of Haechan’s body wash, you love feeling his arms around you and his hands on you. 

There’s nothing sexual about this, he’s delicately cleaning you with the sponge while you talk about stupid things and make jokes. 

It’s warm. And safe. And special. 

It’s different. 

From anything else that ever happened before with anybody else, and even with him. And you think you might get used to this. 

To a home, not a house. 

To a place to come back to that’s full of life and love. 

To him, and his laugh, and his voice, and his clothes scattered around, and his screams when he loses against his friends. 

You truly believe you could get used to this. 

But all the fears you have to face still appear like an insurmountable wall that menaces crashing on you. 

Haechan has no intention of letting it slide this time. When he can’t reach you through call, when you still don’t answer his texts after five days, he knows he won’t write pathetic, heartbroken messages to you to let you go again. 

He’s mad, furious, even, and once again, he can’t understand you. 

You were back together, better than before, closer than before, and now, you’re gone without a word another time.

He doesn’t bother to text you to warn you, he’s pretty sure if you knew he was coming, you would’ve escaped to the other side of the world, leaving no traces behind. So he’s standing at your door, ringing the bell with no patience, and huffing loudly. 

When the door opens and you murmur a curse after blabbering Johnny’s name because you were expecting to find him, your eyes widen. 

“Haechan?” You whisper, throat dry and hand shaking on the knob. 

He doesn’t say anything, he pushes you to the side and enters the place. 

“Haechan, I can —” you start, but his glare stops you. 

“Why do you always ruin everything good?” His voice is shaking and so are his lips, quivering even now that he’s not talking anymore. 

And you’re frozen. You’re not ready for this. You didn’t prepare a speech before, you don’t have an explanation about your personality and you two. You spent the last five days working and worrying because things went wrong once again because you let him too close and now he is there, waiting for an answer you were never able to give yourself.

“I said,” he starts, “why do you ruin everything good?” 

“I don’t…” 

Haechan groans loudly, throwing his head back and turning around because he can’t stand your face, your tears rolling down your cheeks as if you’re the victim in this, and probably partially you are, but why can’t you let him in? Why can’t you explain it to him? Whatever is bothering you and making you stab him repeatedly. He just wants to know why before he lets you go, but it seems you don’t even know how to do that. 

“You ran away from us another time and you can’t give me an explanation?”

“I’m scared, okay? What’s between us is… is not going where I planned it to go and it’s becoming so much. I just don’t know what to do,” you try to explain, trying to keep your composure and don’t shake like a leaf. 

Haechan scoffs in disbelief, but the truth is that he’s feeling an abnormal amount of pain just looking into your eyes. “What’s there to know? I thought we were fine. I… I came back to you as if nothing happened, as if you didn’t leave me without a word. I hurt an innocent person all because I wanted to be with you, in any way, I don’t care. I didn’t even want apologies or anything, I just wanted you and I thought we were doing fine but to you, fine is never enough.”

“It was enough, it is. I — I think it’s too much. I don’t know how to deal with this. With you,” you reason, and it’s hard to look into his eyes when you can see all the pain you’re causing.  

“I thought…” he stops, backtracking on his own words because none of this makes sense. You never show signs of discomfort when you’re together, you used to bicker much more at the start than now, so your words sound crazy to his ears. “Why can’t you tell me this when I do things that are too much for you?” 

“Because they aren’t too much when they happen. I like what we have.” 

“Then why do you run away?” He can’t keep his voice low, and those words come out in a scream full of bitter incredulity. 

You break into a cry, but you immediately stop yourself, forcing the tears back in your eyes and the sobs down your throat. Once again you can’t give him an answer, just a useless apology. “I’m sorry,” you mutter, keeping eye contact no matter how much it hurts because you need him to know you’re being honest, you’re not lying or putting up walls. It’s just hard to tear down the ones you already have built around yourself.  

“No, you’re not,” he retorts, voice lower. “It happened twice, Jesus Christ, twice. You can go back to your ex, the one who treated you like shit, but you can’t at least warn me when you need some time alone.” 

You shake your head, pressing your lips flat to hold in the cries. “I don’t need some time alone. I’m confused and overwhelmed.” 

“By what?” Haechan urges again, nervously moving in small steps on the spot, feeling like he could explode at any minute. 

“Everything. All of this is new to me and I… I’m trying to be a better person. I’m trying not to hurt the ones that I love, and don’t fuck everything up, but I can’t. Everything I touch becomes sick and dies and… and I don’t know what to do.”

Haechan is confused. He thought that what you had had never been better than this, so why is it so different for you? Why are your points of view so far from one another and distorted? Maybe that is the problem, after all, you are too different from each other, not compatible, and it will never work. “But I don’t get you, I’ve tried, I swear, I did, but it’s like — it’s like there’s a wall and I can’t get past it.” 

You groan, throwing your head back, but you know that if it’s difficult for you to explain it must be ten times harder for him to understand. “It’s hard for me.” 

“But why? I thought I was better than your ex, why are you pushing me away?” He knows he’s not perfect, but he’s never done anything to hurt you, moreover, he always tried everything to protect you and make you feel good, and that went beyond sex. He thought it was clear, but apparently, it was all to waste. 

You’re short of words, struggling to come up with an answer. “Because, because, fuck, I’ve never felt like this before. You fucked me up in a way no one else ever did. It’s pathetic the way you make me weak. The way… the way my walls come crashing down when I’m with you.” 

“Oh, really?” It’s a scoff, full of sarcasm, mockery and resentment and it’s even followed by a click of the tongue. 

Your voice falters as tears break free from your eyes. Of course, he doesn’t believe you. Of course, he can’t know how much you showed of yourself, parts of you nobody else has ever seen. “They do. You simply don’t pry in, you don’t push me to my limits to make me let you in but the door for you is wide open. I feel… I’m vulnerable.” You stop, taking a deep breath. “When I’m with you, I’m vulnerable.”

Haechan shakes his head, thinking you can’t be serious. The only time you have been vulnerable was because of your ex, and the other times you opened up, well, he’s not so sure you told him anything true. “And yet I still don’t get you, and I’m starting to think I’ll never will because… you act like a child running away when nothing happens. What do you do when things go wrong?” 

“I don’t know,” you cry, sliding down on the floor, covering your face with your closed fist. You don’t let things in your life go wrong, because they already went wrong years ago and you can’t even risk for a tragedy to happen again. That’s why you need rules, order, and peace. “I’ve never had something like, something like… this,” you confess, looking at him. “I’ve never had someone like you.” Haechan. The opposite of what you needed until now to survive. There were no rules with him, no order and no peace, but strangely enough, all his opposites didn’t bring you war. Yet, that doesn’t calm you, something about all of this feels like a bomb to you and he still doesn’t understand you. 

The heavy sigh that comes from his lips makes you look away. “So, you run when things are good? Will you keep leaving me? Do I have to come running to you, looking for you, not knowing if you want me or if I should leave you space?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Haechan almost yells. “Stop saying that, it’s infuriating.” 

“But I truly have no idea. I just told you. I could tell you about me, but why would you want to listen?” 

“Because I love you?” He screams, jaw dropping as he realizes what he said. “Fuck, there, I said it, and I scared you away once and for all, but honestly, I can’t keep doing this any longer. I love you. I don’t know why but I guess I am dumb and always fall for the people I can’t have. But I do. And I would love to sit here and listen to you because, guess what, I want this to work out. Because that’s what normal people do. They talk and they listen. They don’t run away.” 

“You — you love me?” 

Haechan takes a deep breath, and a tear rolls down his eyes as he hums, nodding. “And you don’t have to say anything, I don’t care if you don’t love me back, but that’s why I hate when you act like this because you don’t let good things come at you in life, I might not be your happy event but…” 

“But?” 

“Grow up.” 

Your breath gets stuck in your throat and more tears flood your face, blurring your view. Those words feel like a gunshot straight to your heart and you can’t believe you’re hearing them from him. You know that wasn’t his initial thought, but he doesn’t backtrack. 

“Grow up because you need to learn how to deal with this shit, whatever it is, whatever is making you act like this. Excuses and apologies are not enough. You might not hurt people on purpose, but you still do and I…” 

“No, please,” you scream when Haechan starts walking to the door swiftly, opening it before you can even make him out. “Don’t leave,” you cry, struggling to stand on your knees. “Don’t leave me, too.” 

He stops and turns around gulping but shaking his head. 

“I need to be alone,” his voice is broken and he’s clearly holding back tears, and you’d like to run in his arms and hug him, but, once again, the rational part of you is holding you back, so you let him go, like you let go every other person of your life, with the difference you didn’t care about them as you care about him. 

“I can’t keep defending you,” Johnny confesses while he stares at your crying face. You called him sobbing, muttering a few words, but he didn’t need more to come rushing to you. He didn’t even need you to explain, he knew. Haechan had this over-dramatic way of reacting, posting sad Instagram stories with depressing and heart-wrenching songs, and everything led back to you. Also, he had told him he ‘broke’ everything with Wonyoung and Johnny saw how you two were close once again. So, you must’ve fucked it up once again and that was why you two were here. 

“You don’t have to,” you weep, hiding your face in his chest, and wrapping your arms around his broad back, deeply hoping he would crash you with his arms and you would stop suffering for all your poor decisions. 

“You can’t keep sabotaging yourself,” he says, caressing your scalp in circular motions, knowing that always makes you calm down. “I can’t keep seeing you like this.” 

“I was never like this.” 

Johnny sighs, “You might not cry but if you think that I don’t know your fucked up coping mechanism, you’re wrong. And we know well it’s not only about love. Everything good that happens in your life you have to turn into a curse. Why?” 

“I don’t know.” You know it well, and weirdly it isn’t even in your power. 

“You had an offer of a job you loved and you lost it all because you thought you were undeserving and played humble, and let’s not talk about the days before the interview you spent feeling sick because you thought you weren’t good enough for it.”

A broken sniffle rolls from your lips. 

“Do we have to go back to the school years?” 

“No, thanks.” You don’t need a reminder, the years of tears and stress that you doubled for the standards you set for yourself are still weighing on you, so you don’t want to go back there mentally. 

“And love… why do you think you don’t deserve love?” 

“I don’t think I don’t deserve it. I never felt something so strong and I’m afraid. What if… what if we’re both not ready to settle down and be serious with this? What if it will break my heart?” 

Johnny chuckles, “And what if he’s the love of your life?” 

“Oh,” you whisper, your heart speeding up just thinking about it. The long-term scared you, that was why you ran away. You love how you feel good when you’re with him, but you’re terrified it won’t last and once the spell expires you will be left in the ashes. 

“The only certain things in life are taxes, if you’re not a rich asshole, and death, but everything else? It’s a shot in the dark. Don’t you think some risks are worth taking?” 

“But it will hurt.” 

“And isn’t it hurting already?” 

“Oh.” 

Johnny smiles, caressing your cheek. “Why are you so worried about the future? You can’t make it perfect. You can’t have control over everything, little bird.” 

“Don’t call me little bird,” you say, emitting a sound mixed with a sniffle and a chuckle. 

“You are. And you still didn’t learn how to fly. But if you don’t fly, how will you live?” 

You sigh, rubbing your hands on your face before biting your nails nervously. 

“Listen,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and gently whispering your name to make you look at him. “I know why you want to have control so badly. I know why you think that if you plan it all before, think about all the things that could go wrong, and torture yourself into thinking that you can have power over the wilderness of the world and destiny, nothing else will go wrong, but it’s not like this. We both know it.” 

You sob louder, knowing exactly what he’s talking about, eyes dropping to the floor as guilt plunges your heart again. “I could’ve saved him.” 

“No, you couldn’t have. Some things are just not in our power. I blamed myself too, so many times. But I swore to him I would’ve protected you over anything, and if that anything is yourself and your fears, I will protect you from you.” 

You wish you could feel better at his words, but they only make more tears stream down your face. “If I didn’t call him, if I… if I had someone to come home with this wou—” 

“It would’ve happened,” Johnny stops you. “You’re not that powerful, little bird. I’m sorry,” he chuckles, wiping your tears away. “None of us is. And it’s all about luck, and just occasionally about merits. So, if life sent Haechan to you, don’t make him slip away.” 

“But every time I followed my instinct things went terribly, I feel like I carry so much bad luck around me sometimes.” 

Johnny only hugs you for a while, caressing your back and lulling you in his arms. “When you were a kid and let the sea carry you too far away?” 

“My father almost died.” 

“But he didn’t.” 

“Yes, but then… you know what happened.” 

“And it wasn’t your fault. After that you never let emotions carry you, you never let someone deep into you because you think everyone could betray you, and unless you have everything written down you don’t do a thing. You hide it quite well, you almost seem normal from the outside.” 

You laugh lightly and hug him tighter. You don’t feel better, but maybe he’s right, maybe this is your chance to change your life and stop living in fear. 

“So, what do I do?” 

“You let Haechan in, maybe explain something to him so he puts his mind at ease because I think that both Adele and Taylor Swift’s discographies are about to end, he seemed rather depressed in his stories.” 

“And if it goes wrong?” 

“At least you tried.” 

A heavy sigh rolls from your lips as you stare blankly at the floor, nervously biting the inside of your cheeks and, once again, trying to think faster than life, maybe if you change your plans, it would count as if you still made them, right? Or maybe this time there is no plan, and it’s right like this. 

“I only promised him one thing, and I’m not going to take my words back, little bird. He wanted you to live, to be free, and to be loved. On the way to you, he called me, ranting furiously about how he would’ve killed your stupid boyfriend if he saw him somewhere because nobody could hurt you. He only wanted someone that was right for you. I’m sure he would love Haechan, and who knows, maybe Hyuck is truly sent from above.” 

When your closed fist crashes against Haechan’s front door to knock on it you feel like you could pass out. You keep torturing the inside of your cheeks, chewing the flesh nervously, while your right foot nervously bounces against the cold floor. 

You slightly jump back when the door opens and your eyes meet with his. 

“Who’s — Oh, it’s you,” he whispers and he almost sounds disappointed, you wouldn’t bet on it, but his eyes are not looking at you like they usually would and that makes you regret even more that you came. 

“Can we talk?” Your voice is weak and hardly comes out, vocal cords shaking like your body. “No, we need to talk. Please,” you add to don’t sound too rude, it’s the last thing you can be, given the position you’re in. 

Haechan sighs, rubbing his face and then moving to the side to let you in. The house is dark, the only light comes from outside, and dead quiet. 

“Why are you here?” He questions, crossing his arms and watching as you’re about to sit on the sofa. You stop halfway and gulp, standing up again and clinging to your purse. “You can sit.” 

You do, fixing your clothes and looking down at the floor. 

“So? I don’t have all day,” he urges and the coldness of his voice is the tenth bad sign that’s screaming you shouldn’t do this. 

“About us.” 

Haechan chuckles, it’s a bitter laugh, trapped in the back of his throat while his eyes roll to the sky and his head shakes. “Us? Now you decided there’s an us?” 

You bite your lower lip and clench your fists. “Please, just let me explain.” 

“Sure, can’t wait to hear some other bullshit you’ll have to tell me before disappearing forever,” he says, sitting in front of you, and the distance feels unbearable. You had never seen him this cold, not even when you went back to the coastal town this winter. 

“Listen, I’m here to talk like adults, okay? Can we please stop being childish and put the pride away for just an hour? Then I’ll leave if you want to.” 

He hums, he’d love to add that he doesn’t want you to leave, but he keeps his mouth shut and waits for you to talk. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. “For everything I did to you. Trying not to hurt myself I only hurt you and I didn’t want to.” 

He babbles something under his breath, shaking his head, he can’t even be mad at you for long and he hates it. 

“And I don’t want you to forgive me, but I think I owe you my honesty, and a bit more of me, you know…” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“No, I do, because you let me… you let me in. You talked about your family, about your struggles, how you moved here on your own and I said a few things and I even lied.” 

Haechan’s face cannot be read, probably a fragment of stupor crosses it or maybe disappointment, but then he scoffs. “Why am I not surprised?” 

“I didn’t — I didn’t think we would ever get here,” you confess. “You were supposed to be just sex, Haechan. To be honest, I didn’t even want you to be that. Johnny dragged me to that bar and here we are.” 

He gulps, moving his eyes up and down your figure, and then takes a deep breath. “We don’t have to be anything, I just wish you wouldn’t cut me off like this all the time because it hurts. I care about you and the idea of hurting you, even involuntarily, kills me. It’s pathetic, I know, but…” he sighs, rubbing his temples, “but it’s the truth.” 

Your heart jumps and you can’t believe his words. So is this how it feels when the person you love the most is about to give you up? “But I do.” 

“What?” 

“I — I…” you choke up on your words, fighting the tears back. “I want to — I don’t know why it is so hard.” No, you know why, because the last time the words ‘I love you’ slipped from your lips you were bent on a deathbed, beginning your other half to stay alive, to don’t leave you in the madness of the world at fifteen, promising him from then on you were going to listen, to stay in track and never break a rule, but it was all in vain. And now confessing that something as strong as love ties you to someone that wasn’t in your life since forever makes you shit yourself. 

“You don’t have to fake it if you don’t feel anything. I know I crossed a line, I know what our rules were and I’m aware I broke them so no, I won’t blame you if I lose you,” Haechan says, stopping probably to gather the courage to add the last words, “I know I already did.” 

“No, you didn’t,” you say. “Let me talk, please?” 

Haechan’s not sure, taking time to consider his options, but then nods, humming lowly. This might be the last time he has you like this, if he didn’t listen to you now, he would’ve regretted it forever, staying up at night thinking about what you had to say. 

“Remember when I told you about Johnny and my brother?” Haechan nods, even if he doesn’t get its correlation with you two. “I lied. They never fought; my brother died,” your voice falters as it comes out to give him such a big piece of you. You take a deep breath and then exhale, “It was all my fault.” 

“What?” He blurts out, eyes wide and mouth open. “I mean, I’m sorry, God, it wasn’t supposed to come out like that but… I…” 

You chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s alright, I would’ve reacted the same way if you pretended your brother was alive and well.” 

“It didn’t happen recently, right?” He’s afraid all this time you left, it was because of that, maybe you were going through a loss and he wasn’t by your side.  

You shake your head, playing with your fingers. “I was fifteen, and he was only twenty.” 

He mentally takes a breath of relief knowing it was in the past, but he doesn’t feel any better, it’s clear it’s still hard for you to talk about it even if seven years went by. “But… unless you didn’t kill him, how can it be your fault?” 

“If only I didn’t call him, if only I listened to my parents and never… never dated him or went on that trip, my brother would be here today.” 

Haechan tries to talk but you stop him. “But that’s not why I talked to you about this, I mean, I still have to talk to you about this. I hope it can make you understand why… why I’m like this.” 

The man in front of you swallows, and you can read it in his eyes he’s not so sure anymore he wants to dive deep into you, but it’s the only way he can at least try to forgive you. 

“I know it sounds crazy but, when I was a child, I was reckless and only trusted my instincts. I loved living to the fullest, you know? I always tried new things and nothing really scared me. I was like this even with people, I always saw their good, but sometimes the good never even existed.” 

Haechan doesn’t talk, he only looks at you, listening attentively. And that makes you relax a bit, that was one of his thousand virtues, he always listened and emitted this sense of calm.  

“I was like this even as a teenager when I didn’t know men are shit since the day they are born.” 

“Fair,” he agrees. 

“I’m sorry, like, some of you are just terrible and when I was fourteen I fell for the worst one, but I couldn’t see it. I’ve never been a loser, not in a cliché way, but he seemed so cool in my eyes. He was pretty, popular, funny, for the broken humour of fourteen years old me, and he could do so much more than I could and I was in love, not really looking back at it now, and jealous.” 

“I guess he was older?” 

“He was, he turned seventeen when I turned fifteen and we weren’t together until then, but I was… a child at heart. I didn’t feel ready to try a lot of new things and he always pressured me into them. My parents didn’t like him, but I was headstrong and didn’t listen. Anyway, we dated for a while and everything was fine, until one day he asked me to go camping with his friends. I was so happy, it was my first night out with people I wasn’t super close with and we were under the sky, in my mind it was going to be the most romantic night of my life until it turned into a nightmare. My parents didn’t want me to go, so I had a fight with them and my brother took my defences, saying that I had to make my first experiences and if something happened I could always call home, so they gave up. But I was still mad at them and didn’t want to call them when things went wrong, proving they were right would’ve killed my pride, so I called my brother. I knew he would’ve never said anything to me.” 

“Did he… force you?” 

You shake your head. “No, but they were doing drugs and mixing it with alcohol and I was afraid, I only knew him and two other girls, but never was in touch with his friends and they were all starting to get too violent, and I didn’t like the jokes, the jokes about me. They started mocking me, for being too naïve, and pure and he didn’t say a word to defend me, he even laughed with them, straight to my face. And then the alcohol made him confess he hated how we still hadn’t fuck because I wasn’t ready, and after that, I snapped. I was terrified he was going to find a way to make it happen somehow that night and I didn’t want to be there. I had nobody to defend me and I couldn’t stay there. So I grabbed my things while fighting with him and ran away, in the middle of the wood, crying and heartbroken…” 

“So you called your brother?” 

You nod, wiping away the tears. “He came rushing, and he wanted to address them but I just wanted to go home, technically to Johnny’s place, I didn’t want to see my parents and we had this plan we would’ve kept it a secret from them.”

“So you were already friends with Johnny?” 

You nod. “We’ve always been, that’s why I tell you that I could never be attracted to him, he has always been like my second older brother, and now he’s the only one I have left.” 

“You don’t have to go on…” Haechan says, seeing how much you’re shaking and how weak your voice is. 

“No, I do, I need to. I trust you,” you confess, and the beam behind his eyes dims your tension. “We were driving to Johnny’s place, it was late at night and it also started raining. I know it would’ve happened even if he wasn’t mad because we were in the right, he was driving well, but if only I didn’t call him up he would’ve been at home and not in that damn crossroad.” You can’t go on and you lower your head while you try to gather your thoughts and stop your body from shaking. You feel Haechan’s hand reach yours and you hold it tight after the sofa hollows as he sits next to you. 

“The last thing I remember is his hand on my thigh while he caressed my hand to calm me down, and the static, deafening sound in my ear of the crush, the pain and his hand slipping away.” 

“So, you were there?” 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “He didn’t die on the spot, he suffered for like a week, he even woke up, barely had time to talk one last time to all of us and then his heart had a failure and they couldn’t save him.” 

“I’m so sorry,” he says, contemplating hugging you but it feels out of place, so he only keeps caressing your hand. “And you?” 

“Broken leg, broken arm, a minor brain trauma and something else but I’m still here, and he’s not. And why? Because I decided to follow my dumb heart.”

Haechan feels out of place but after what you heard he can’t keep quiet. “I… I think he loved you too much to blame you for something that wasn’t in your power.” 

“I know, I swear. I went to therapy, and I know it’s not my fault, I accepted his death and I know he would’ve thrown himself in the flames for me, but I can’t let go of this fear in my everyday life. Not having control drives me crazy and with you, I lost it so soon, it never happened before.” 

“I don’t know what to say,” Haechan confesses, he’s still holding your hand because it feels like the only thing he can do. But other than that? He can’t protect you from your fears and he doesn’t know how to give some control into your hands, it’s not in his power either. 

“I love you,” you confess, looking into his eyes and he freezes, the hold on your palm loosening. “And that’s the shitties confession ever, and I’m so sorry I just finished trauma dumping you, but I… I can’t keep losing good things in life because I’m afraid of taking risks. I can’t erase you, I’ve tried, but I can’t.” 

Haechan’s mouth is wide and he’s not sure if he went completely insane or if those words came out of your mouth for real. 

“I can’t move on from you. And I don’t need all the big answers I was searching for to give this a reason, I love you, it’s simple as that.” 

“I…” he tries to answer you, but he feels his heart racing and head spinning, you just said you love him, twice. 

You stand up and start walking back and forth. “I’ve never been so honest, but I can’t stop thinking of you, dreaming of you, even. And I can’t believe I love being with you so much. God, you were supposed to be just a one-night stand and here we are, you washed over me like a rouge wave and...” you chuckle, eyes glistening as happy tears wet them “... I can’t even care if it made me drown. I love you too much to care about what will happen, to worry about something that might not even happen. But even if it will, even if life will ever tear us away, I want to live in the present, I want to kiss you in front of our friends, I want to hold hands when you pick me up from work, I want to sing with you in the car as we drive to our favorite place, I want to wake up next to you and don’t have to sneak out like a thief. I want to leave my toothbrush at your place, next to yours, right where it belongs.”   

You can’t read his expression, your heart dares to say he’s happy, surely shocked and probably thrilled, but your brain is still the annoying douchebag that makes you feel he doesn’t want you back. 

“And I know I’m hard to be with but if you want me, if you feel like you can take me for who I am, I promise that I won’t disappear ever again and I will let you in.” 

Haechan chuckles and then raises his head to smile at you. “You are the wildest rollercoaster I’ve ever been on, you know?” You hum, smiling sadly. “But I can’t get off.” Your eyes light up at his words and your heart starts beating again as if it has been brought back to life. 

“So you don’t hate me?” 

He shakes his head, standing up to be face to face. “I don’t think I can.” 

Your smile lights up the room, and Haechan leans closer. “So, can I kiss you or are we breaking another rule?” 

You chuckle. “We are. I think this is the only one we never broke, we never kissed outside of sex.” 

“Oh, so this one has to be special…” he caresses your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, rubbing your skin with his thumb and then leans in, “…to us?” 

You smile, gulping before moving closer, leaving only a few millimetres between you. “To us.” When your lips meet it feels like a patch being put on your broken wings. It’s soft, and there’s still a lot of fear in your shaking hands and lips, but it feels like floating in the sky. You know it’s going to be hard for the both of you, he has his skeletons just like you have yours, but this feels right. This feels like the place where you have to be. In his arms, hanging from his lips. 

Haechan hits different. Haechan is like a high-speed train and a bullet to the heart. Haechan is like jumping in the void with no parachute on hoping wings will grow from your back to keep you floating. But it’s good and it makes you feel alive, a feeling you’re now sure you had forgotten a long time ago. 

And maybe, after all, you have to thank Johnny for this.

© neowinestaindress ; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. 

[faithst]

WAKING ZB1 UP FOR A KISS

pairing zb1 (ot8) x gn!reader

genre fluff, a bit suggestive in matthew’s

masterlist<3

— zhang hao

hao came back from practice, obviously tired

and went straight to bed 🛏

no shower, no ‘goodnight’

of course, you didn’t mind because hao is always working so hard that he deserves all the rest he could get

but you just couldn’t sleep without a kiss from him 😔

he felt your twists and turns and woke up asking ‘are you okay?’

you felt bad for waking him up but you couldn’t lie to him

“i can’t sleep.. i know you’re tired but can i have a goodnight kiss?”

he’s mentally blaming himself for forgetting to do that 😦

but either way, he thinks you’re so cute that you can’t sleep without a kiss from him

“i’m sorry for forgetting.. come here and let’s get some sleep.”

— sung hanbin

hanbin never forgets to give you kisses

ig you just wanted more (who doesn’t?) 🤭

he was sleeping so soundly that you almost felt bad

he seems like a light sleeper to me

“hanbin…” you shake his shoulder softly

eyes fluttering open “hmm..? what’s wrong?” he says, turning to face you

“well.. it’s kinda dumb..” you fiddle with your fingers

that damn smile he had could kill millions 😤

“any thought of yours isn’t dumb. tell me.”

“i just wanted another kiss..”

he starts giggling sm

“just one? are you sure?”

— seok matthew

you wanted a kiss, nothing else

so you woke him up

or atleast tried to.. 😐

“five more minutes..” pulling the blanket over his head

“matthew! i want a kiss!” you whined, attempting to pull the blanket back down

suddenly he’s awake

“you want a kiss?” “yes”

has a smirk “oh my god! you’re so whipped for me!”

becomes so cocky “i bet you love my lips on you.” 🫢

he finally gives you a kiss like you wanted tho

“do you want a kiss somewhere else too?”

— shen ricky

you had trouble sleeping this particular night

and thought it was a good idea to get a kiss from ricky

“ricky.. can you wake up..?” you ask, tapping his shoulder lightly

he responds w incoherent sounds

pls let the boy sleep 😭

“ricky.. i can’t sleep. can i have a kiss?”

instantly wakes up

“a kiss? suddenly?” he asks but still gives you a kiss

he becomes soooo shy after that 🤭

like his ears are so red but its dark so you can’t see them

tries to keep his cool

“let’s try sleeping, okay?”

— park gunwook

i think he’s a pretty light sleeper

not light light but light enough to wake up easily

you pat his shoulder and he’s instantly like

“what’s going on?” he says, voice groggy

turns around to face you, eyes half shut

“hi gunwook.” 😃

doesn’t respond and just stares

“can i give you a kiss?”

yep, he’s the one that asks instead 🫠

pulls you closer to him and kisses your forehead

“can we stay like this forever?”

— kim taerae

taerae wasn’t fully asleep

like he was about to sleep

his eyes were shut but he could feel your stare

“is there something you need?” he asks, pulling you closer to him by the waist 🫠

no response but he noticed you staring at his lips

has that wide smile

maybe lets out a giggle or two bcuz he thinks you’re so cute like that

“mm.. you want a kiss?” and you instantly nod 🤭

even WIDER smile

eventually kisses your whole face

“so cute..”

— kim gyuvin

usually you can sleep just fine because there’s no room for kisses or ‘goodnights’ when he falls asleep the minute he plops down onto bed 😤

but you just felt the need to have a kiss from gyuvin today

you tapped his shoulder. no response

poked his cheek. nope

pat his hea- “what is it?” he asks, a bit annoyed

“can i have a kiss?” he was taken aback

“you woke me up for a kiss?” “yeah?”

just falls back asleep 😭

“fine! i’ll go ask some from someone els-“

instantly sits up and attacks you with kisses 🥰

“shut up, go to sleep.”

— kim jiwoong

jiwoong fell asleep while cuddling you and didn’t give you a kiss

and you couldn’t just sleep without his kiss !

so you woke him up

“jiwoong… jiwoong.. jiwoong!” you finally let out a whisper-yell

his eyes immediately open, a bit startled 😦

“hi. hello. what happened?”

“you didn’t give me a kiss” you pout

he smiles and pulls you closer to his chest

literally kisses you to sleep

sings you a lullaby too 🫶

“goodnight, my love.”

© keiwook | 2023

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not saying goodbye to my husband’s friends from childhood?

I (24F) am a white American, my husband (25M) is a black immigrant from a country in the Caribbean. Where we live, there aren’t many people from his country and he has few opportunities to speak his native language. But a family friend from his childhood came here recently and he invited the friend over for dinner. The friend and his wife said they’d come over a few days in advance and I was excited and made plans for dinner, but the day of, they canceled. I was a little annoyed because I already had all the food and everything but I was like “ok whatever.”

Well the following Saturday, I was stressed about work and stuff and in a bad mood, and was looking forward to catching up on a show I liked. When I finally sat down to watch, my husband said his friends who canceled the week before were going to be here in an hour and asked me to clean up. I was annoyed bc they canceled when I was planning on them and rescheduled last min when I wasn’t planning on hosting or spending the evening with anyone, but I helped clean up and prepare. They got here, and I tried to be a good host, but I admit while I wasn’t rude, my attitude wasn’t super warm and friendly. They didn’t want dinner so we offered juice and stuff. I tried to be present in the conversations but 1) I’m very shy and 2) they were talking about 60-40 their native language to English, so I didn’t know what was going on more than half the time. (I do love that language and am trying to learn on DuoLingo but it’s hard. I’m also glad he has people to talk it with, it just leaves me unable to participate much). Also, tbh most of the conversation was suggestive jokes and joking about each other’s sex lives and as an ace person I don’t really feel comfortable with that kind of conversation particularly with people I don’t know very well. So I kinda just zoned out, and I kind of have an RBF so I guess I looked not happy to be there. Anyway, we watched a James Bond movie I wasn’t interested in so I was on my phone a lot, then I went upstairs to get ready for bed because it was almost midnight and I was tired.

After I was ready for bed, I wanted to say goodnight to the friends, however one of them had to record a video for an online class and send it in before the deadline in like an hour. So he got on the computer and went into the stairwell and his wife got on her phone and went to the kitchen so they could record the conversation and submit it. Which meant I was stuck upstairs (unless I wanted to pass the guy in the stairwell and show up on his video) and I’d have to wait for them to finish recording the call before I could go to bed. Well, I was tired so I just lay in bed and ended up falling asleep. Around the 12:45, my husband woke me up by coming into the room and turning on the light to give the friends a tour of the house and I grumpily growled “I’m asleep! Turn off the light!”

The next morning, my husband was livid at me. He said the way I treated them was horrible and rude, I wasn’t paying attention during the movie, I didn’t even say goodbye (which greetings and goodbyes are a big deal in his culture), I growled at them when they came into the room for the tour, I was “acting like a bitch” to them the whole night, and he felt like he invited them to his house only for me to act racist and like I’m better than them. I feel terrible that my actions could be perceived that way when in reality I was just tired, shy, a little grouchy because these plans were sprung on me last minute, and out of the loop (because I didn’t understand a majority of the conversation). But I think the whole cancelation and then last minute rescheduling and expecting me to be a good, present host late into the night wasn’t cool. If it had been last week, I would’ve been prepared with dinner and also mentally, since I’d be planning on hosting people. Also would’ve been nice to be made aware beforehand that we would be entertaining guests until 1 AM, so I could be planning on it.

So AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[thetriplets3]

Heyy, could you maybe do chris caring for the reader when they get a sunburn (it’s stupid but i think it would be kinda cute)

sorry this took so long I hope you like it!

✿ sunburnt ✿

We all had decided to go to the flea market today because it was the perfect weather. Inspecting my closet I find the perfect dress to wear, a square neck babydoll dress with fluttery sleeves and an open back. It wasn’t too hot, sunny but slightly overcast, a perfect day.

However this is the kind of weather that a sunburn sneaks up on you. With this in mind I grabbed my sunscreen and slathered it on in the places I could reach. Immediately needing to wash my hands because I can’t stand the way lotion feels on my hands.

“Chris, can you come her please I can’t get the sunscreen on my back” I holler.

Soon enough you came sprinting in nearly knocking me over in the process. Standing behind me with your hands on my hips you place a quick kiss to my cheek before reaching for the sunscreen. You work the sunscreen in your hands trying to warm it up so it won’t be cold. A small yet sweet gesture that warms my heart.

Once I’m sure I’ve gotten sunscreen everywhere we get in the car and set off to the flea market. Walking hand in hand we take turns pulling each other towards stands that catch our eyes and buying things we want. The sun kept peaking through once and a while but preferred to stay hidden behind the clouds.

Meeting back up with Nick and Matt we agree to head home after a long day. We head to your room, you plopping down on your bed while I grab my extra clothes I brought for the weekend and go change in the bathroom. I’m in a half asleep state from being in the heat and around so many people I’m exhausted. Tiredly I do my skin care to remove the feeling on the sunscreen on my face. Once I’m done I head over to join you on the bed.

“Baby you’re burnt” he tells me, gently moving the strap of my tank top. “Ya got a farmer’s tan too” he chuckles.

“How? I put sunscreen on everywhere” I say confused.

“Can you grab me the bottle please” you ask.

Grabbing the bottle from my bag I hand it to you.

“Love it’s expired. It’s useless if it’s expired” you tell me.

With a heavy sigh and a roll of my eyes I cuddle up into your side, not seeming to be able to get comfortable.

“What’s wrong? Does it hurt? Want me to put aloe on it?” You ask softly, concern dripping from your voice.

“Yes please it hurts” I whine.

You tell me to lie face down on the bed seeing as my back and shoulders was the most burnt as you went to grab the aloe. You sit next to me on the best, gently moving my hair so it doesn’t get aloe in it. I gasp at the feeling of the cold gel on my back.

“Sorry I should have warned you it’d be cold” you apologize.

You take your time working the aloe into my burnt skin, taking longer than it should because you decided to give me a little back massage as you do it.

“That feels so nice thank you baby” I mutter in my sleepy relaxed state.

I’m so lucky to have a boyfriend who is so gentle and attentive. You make everything better.

taglist:

@antisocialties @stxrniqlo @iluvmatt @fake-coolbeans @d0wnt0wnstu4n1ol0

[eggcompany]

Neighbors to Fucking

Someone new moves in next door to the Cobblepots. Oswald just hopes their better than the loud downstairs neighbors. Luckily for him it's someone sweet, hot, and very bold int what he wants. One thing leads to another and suddenly Oswald's standing in his binder tell Ed he wants everything the other boy can give him.

“Mother, I think someone’s moving in next door! Do you care if I go see?” Oswald called to his mother as he pulled on his maroon sweater. 

“Of course baby, be careful though. Might be some hussy coming to try and take you away! My very handsome baby boy!” Mrs. Kapelput said and pinched at Oswald’s soft cheeks. Her boy smiled and pulled away. 

“I know mother, I’ll be okay. See you later.” Oswald said as he fixed his sleeves and took a glance at himself in a small mirror. 

He opened the door and poked his head out. There were only two apartments on this floor. Theirs and one more. It had been empty for a while. 

Perhaps though someone cool was moving in. 

Hopefully someone quiet. 

The people below them were loud. Talking, stomping, bad music, rude language, loud sex. It was dreadful. Horribly dreadful. 

Oswald was always quiet and light on his feet. He’d been told a quiet child was a good child when he was a toddler by his babysitter. It had stuck with him. 

He snuck out to the hallway, absentmindedly squishing his bottom lip between his teeth. 

The door was open a crack and a box was set outside of it. Oswald ventured closer to it to heard some commotion inside the room. He peaked to see if he could see but then the door was wide open and a disheveled looking boy was standing in it. 

Oswald was surprised but couldn’t take his eyes away from the beautiful brown eyes, neat brown hair , void of a few loose strands, high sharp cheekbones, the boy was taller than him by at least half a foot. All slim and sharp and neat and pointy. 

Finally the other boy finished looking at Oswald in the same way and smiled and stuck out his hand. A sparkly perfectly paper white smile, all straight and amazing…

“Edward Nygma, nice to meet you.” Oswald smiled and shook his warm tanned hand. A very nice hand, strong and warm, and oh his heart was on fire.

“Oswe- Oswald Cobblepot, I live in the other apartment with my mother. It’s been a while since we’ve had a new neighbor.” Oswald struggled, face painted a deep red at both the fact lord pretty boy very pretty boy and that he nearly screwed up his own name. 

Edward stood there smiling down at him for a moment before clearing his throat and looking away. Oswald came back to himself and huffed a breath and recovered. 

“Do your parents live here too or…?” Oswald asked nervously as he twiddled with his cuffs. 

“Oh no I moved out by myself. I’m apprenticing at the GCPD.” The burnette chuckled out, he found it amusing that the boy thought he was younger. 

“Oh… how old are you? I’ve gotta be older than you.” Oswald said and put a hand on his hip. There was no way Edward was older than him. His laugh kinda got under Oswald’s skin too, it made him want to sass. 

“I’m twenty.” Edward stated and Oswald just shook his head. 

“No” Oswald stated. 

“Um… yes I turned twenty a while ago actually. Why? How old are you?” Edward asked, curious about the shorter boy. He was an odd duck. Looked like an odd duck, spoke like an odd duck too. 

“Nineteen. You look like a baby! You’re like twelve, you're just tall.” The black haired boy teased and looked the other up and down. 

“You are the baby though. It’s only a year though… I bet we can hang out or something. If you wanna get outta your place you can help me unpack if you like.” Edward offered. He had only met some of the men who worked in the GCPD. No one his age, no one half as cute as the other boy. Plus he had a lot of stuff to unpack.

“Oh yes! Sounds fun, I like being nosy.” Oswald said giddy as he hopped gently on his good leg. 

-0-0-0-

“Can you play it again? I was almost asleep.” Oswald jokes from the other boy's couch. Ed was so good at playing the piano. He loved to come over after dinner and listen to him practice. 

The smooth rhythm always lulled him into a near sleep, he’d never slept over anywhere other than his own house but Edward’s lovely playing on the old piano always got him nearly there. 

“If you want you can sleep over here. We could watch a movie or something?” Ed offered from where he was stretching his arms above his head. He liked hanging out with the other boy. He was cool, knew a lot about odd stuff, was good to talk to, and yeah it was nice having such a cute guy around. Especially one who gave such nice hugs. 

Edward was sort of sleepy himself. He’d made a pretty filling dinner and he’d walked all over the city during the day. A movie and a sleepover seemed like a great way to end the day. 

Ed turned to see Oswald pulling his shoes back on and nervously backing toward the door. 

“Oh I’m actually- I have stuff to do tonight actually so I better get going actually. Bye Ed!” Oswald said in a hurry and slammed the door behind him, leaving the brunette in a bit of a shock. 

“Oh alright. Bye Ozzie see you tomorrow” Edward said to the backside of the door. Well… he could always watch a movie by himself. 

But as he watched some stupid old gangster movie with his old blanket wrapped around just himself he realized he sort of… craved the other boy’s presence. 

-0-0-0-

“I want to kiss you.” Ed said and looked at Oswald who was sitting in the chair. Oswald coughed choking on air and looked over at Ed and his perfect posture and sculpted arms. 

It was a warm day, too warm, scorching really. Ed’s terrible air conditioning barely kept it below baking in the small apartment so they were in the Cobblepot residence. Oswald had only slightly better air conditioning and had his standing fan. 

They were dressed in only slightly above skimpy clothes. Since Mrs. Kapelput was out, Ed was dressed in his plain white undershirt and his boxer shorts adorned with small green and black stripes. Oswald tried not to oogle but he’d given up. Edward was very pretty. Strong, lean, tan, handsome, manly… very nice on the eyes. 

Oswald himself was wearing his own boxer briefs, dark purple with black elastic at the top, and a three sizes too big t-shirt with a penguin embroidered on the breast. 

“What!” Oswald croaked, his face turning to a burning red, and Ed patted the seat next to him. As if it was just an offer to share a soda. 

“Kissing. I want to kiss you.” Oswald stared at him with his mouth open a bit and his eyes wide but moved to sit in the spot Ed had patted. It was as if his feet moved on their own, his heart racing and his mind blank. 

“I like you Ozzie, I think you’re pretty, I want to kiss you. Do you want to kiss me?” Edward asked with a light hint of amusement in his voice. 

Oswald got a sick feeling in his stomach and he nervously pushed his arm against his side where his binder dug into his squishy side. 

“Just a little one, a little kiss” Edward coaxed and brought his hand up to the side of Oswald’s face, cradling his warm cheek. 

“Okay” Oswald breathed and let his eyes close as Edward leaned in. 

-0-0-0-

“Can we kiss again tomorrow?” Oswald asked dreamily as he held Edward’s hand by the door. Edward leaned down and kissed his cheek.

“We can kiss every time you come over. We could do more than kissing too.” Ed whispered into the other’s ear which just made Oswald blush a cherry red and turn towards his own door. 

“Oh um… kissing you is good.” Oswald mumbled and walked back to his own door, leaving the older boy to get ready for work. Definity not because he was getting ideas about… more than kissing . Definitely not. 

-0-0-0-

“Ed, Ed, quit.” Oswald struggled to pull away from his boyfriend's warm body. His lips and teeth felt so so good but were just getting too low on his collarbones. 

Ed pulled back with a disappointed look and looked up at his boyfriend who sat so perfectly in his lap. Oz was just so soft and warm and that ass … fucking plush . 

He was plush all over. Covered in the gentle scent of baby powder and plain shampoo he used. And the small whimpers and pants he let out only drive Edward closer and closer to tearing his jeans off. 

“Too much baby?” Ed asked and rubbed his thumbs on the others hips, bones covered by a perfect layer of pudge. He didn’t want it to be too much. It wasn’t nearly enough for Ed. He wanted more. Needed more. 

“I just it’s-“ Is all Oswald could get out before tears started rolling down his face. He wanted Ed so bad. His thighs were sticky with how much he needed Ed. 

Ed pulled him into a hug and kissed his cheek. Salty tears sticking to his lips when he pulled back. 

“It’s okay, we don’t have to. You know I love doing this too.” Ed said in a smooth loving way and Oswald just shook his head and whimpered out a-

“I want to” and Ed just rubbed his back and hummed. Vibrating up through his chest to Oswald’s, like salve on a burn, Oswald just sniffled. 

“I want to also. But I don’t wanna see you cry. Well at least not like this.” Edward said with just a hint of innuendo at the end as he nuzzled into Oswald’s cheek. 

The black haired boy wiped at his face and almost chuckled to himself. 

“I just like you so much” He said and let the scent of Ed’s kiwi body wash float up into his nose. It always seemed to calm him down. 

“I like you too.” Ed said and let himself trace up the side of Oswald’s pale neck, teeth grabbing onto skin every so often creating little marks in their wake. 

“Would you like me if I wasn’t a boy?” Oswald whispered so quietly Edward barely even caught the anxiety riddled question. He pulled back and looked into the denim blue eyes of the other. 

“I’d like you if you were a cat… but I’d rather not have sex with a cat.” Edward tried to ease the other boy’s palpable anxiety. 

-0-0-0-

“You take off yours first.” Oswald said and watched Edward smoothly pull his plain white t-shirt up over his head to reveal his tanned slightly toned body. Beautiful tanned toned muscular manly body with a light trail of brown hair leading down his pants and a deep v-line basically begging to lead somewhere down below his jeans…

“Well that’s not fair.” Oswald said and looked down at his own soft tummy covered by his black button up and dark purple sweater. He never specifically felt bad about his body in that way but ugh… he could never compare. 

Ed smiled and unbuttoned his black slacks.

“Will it be fair if these come off too?” He said and started to push them down over his ass. 

Oz nodded and chewed on his bottom lip, watching Ed push them down over his thighs and kick them off when they pooled on the floor. He was only wearing a pair of green boxer briefs. 

Long slender tanned legs, a few small scars on knees and a longer one across his thigh. 

Beautiful.

Ed flexed a bit and turned to show off his body. Smooth, tan, muscular, perky ass, and noticeable bulge making Oswald feel even more inferior. 

“Fair enough to get a peek at you now?” Ed asked and moved to stand in front of the fully dressed boy. Oswald swallowed and conceded. Barely able to keep his eyes above his collarbones. 

“Just… ugh I hate you” Oswald said and Ed snickered as he watched Oswald pull off his sweater then hesitate on the buttons of his shirt. 

Ed stepped up to him and kissed him, slowly and warmly, lovingly , grabbing his pale clammy hands and moving them to his own sides. 

“It’s alright. Wanna feel your skin on mine.” Ed said and Oswald could barely breathe as he felt the dips and curves of Ed’s body, all the way to the paths leading down to his soft short happy trail. 

Ed was so warm, strong feeling, sturdy, his breathing was even and his heart was beating steady and true, it nearly made Oswald dizzy. Ed was everything . 

Ed kissed him gently and thumbed open the top two buttons and moved to suck a mark on Oswald’s shoulder. Until he got stopped by a strap and then he simply moved to the other side and thumbed open the rest of the buttons. 

Ed stepped back with a kiss to the shorter man’s lips. Noticing Oswald was trembling, tears lazily running down his face, he looked like he was holding himself there by sheer willpower. Like he wanted to run away. 

Oswald stood there, shirt open exposing his soft porcelain pale belly and purple binding top. 

“Adorable” Ed said before pulling Oswald chest to chest with him and kissing him deeply again, their tongues mingling together. Their mouths tinged with the taste of salt from the short boy’s tears but was soon chased away with the iron whisper of blood as Edward sucked harshly at Oswald's bottom lip as he pulled away. 

“Can I take it off Ozzie? It’s not safe to keep those on during such… strenuous activities.” Edward asked and ran his fingers along the bottom band of the binder, noting in his mind that it was indeed far too tight and far too worn. A proper new one would have to arrive in the mail soon. 

He was lost in thought he nearly missed his boyfriend’s whispered question. 

“Am I still a good boyfriend?” Oswald asked in such a serious way it nearly hurt Ed’s head to hear. 

“’Course” Ed whispered back and looked into the ocean blue eyes that were still red rimmed. Oswald swallowed, audibly, and nodded, pulling a brave face. 

“Go ahead.” Oswald said and relaxed his arms, allowing Edward to pull the bottom of the binder up and over his head and over his arms. 

Oswald closed his eyes, looking as though he was anticipating a slap to the face or worse. 

“The best boyfriend,” Ed said, kissing Oswald’s eyelids. The shorter boy gasped, his lips falling open a bit at the gentle touch. 

“Most handsome” he said and kissed down the side of Oswald’s neck, hands laying on his hips. Gripping only so gently, squeezing just to feel the warm flesh between his fingers. 

“Brilliant” Ed said and kissed down the other’s collarbones and toward the center of his chest. Ed was bending down on his knees, one small drop and he could be face to face with the treasure hidden under Oswald’s black jeans. 

However Oswald’s trembling hands on his shoulders drew him back to stand. 

“And all mine” Edward said and pulled Oswald toward him and kissed him deeply. 

Their chests met and Oswald gasped as his tender nipples grazed across Ed’s torso. He whined and almost whimpered at the way his breasts squished against Ed’s flat stomach. 

Oswald wasn’t… well he was. He was busty . He hated it ever since he started developing breasts. They were big and heavy and in the way and made his shoulders hurt and made bra straps dig into him and he just hated it. He hated them even more when he figured out he was a boy. They were like neon signs saying he was born a female. 

However, Edward was like a dream. 

Nearly E cups and Ed was ignoring them. He rather let his hands run up and down Oswald’s back, warming trails under them, down the dip to his waist, where his whole body pinched in in a rather feminine way, and to grab a handful of ass. Oswald jumped when Ed’s hand creeped into his back pocket to grab his ass. 

However he was getting lost in the way Ed’s hands were traveling across his body, the way they were pressed together, the way Ed was fucking moving and grinding against him. 

When he moved again to kiss at Oswald’s ear and suck on his earlobe. 

“Are you okay with it?” Oswald whispered, needing reassurance as his thighs became sticky and his body burned alive with need. He couldn’t even help that he rocked his hips up with the rhythm Ed had set. 

“What’re you okay with?” Ed asked and pulled back from where he was mouthing and biting, to give Oswald another deep kiss. He moved his hands back up to cradle Oswald’s face. 

“I dunno… want you to- to touch me. Wanna take my pants off” Oswald said quietly and Ed chuckled. 

He let his hands move to lay under Oswald’s breasts. Heat practically radiated from them, begging to be played with and held. Oswald looked down at Ed’s hands, and back up to his eyes a few times in confusion and shock. Rosy faced and kiss swollen lips causing Ed’s cock to throb in his underwear. 

“Ozzie, do you want me to touch these?” Ed asked, fire in his tone. 

“Yes” The other boy breathed out and Ed was on him again. His hands gently cupping his breasts and thumbing at his nipples. Oswald winced and Ed pulled back only a bit. 

“Tender, um the binder it makes them tender.” Oswald explained breathlessly and Ed nodded and kissed him a few more times before moving to take a knee in front of him. Ed kissed around his slightly fuzzy stomach as he unbuttoned and unzipped his dark jeans. 

He yanked them roughly down off Oswald’s pale legs, loving the way his thighs jiggled with the motion, the way his lavender briefs were discolored with wetness, the way his scent was so intoxicating Ed barely noticed his hair was being pulled. 

“ Yes , please Ed, just, ah, just touch me. Touch me there.” Oswald begged as he gripped the brunette's gel wet hair. Ed bit into one of those plush thighs and hummed. 

“Bed, bed and I’ll make you really cry.” Ed practically growled out and Oswald let out a high whine and pulled at Edward, his hair, his shoulders, his hips, until they were kissing again. 

Then Ed was pulling Oswald forward as he took steps back until Oswald was breathless from kissing and being spun around and laid flat on the bed. 

“Say you want it, say you want me, tell me what I can give you” Edward panted from the foot of the bed. He was burning up. 

His cock was straining against his underwear as he stared down at his beautiful boyfriend laid out and wanton. Oswald was… more beautiful than anyone else Edward had ever been with or had ever even seen. His blushing pale skin was lightly dusted in barley there freckles, traveling from his cheekbones down over his shoulders and few adorned the top crest of his breast where they laid against his rapidly rising and falling chest, each breath making them move like waves, his pink nipples pointed and hard in the cool apartment air, his belly begging to be nibbled at, caressed, and at the precipice of his tender plush thighs where his briefs laid low on his hips, the wet fabric clung to the delicate skin underneath. Ed salivated at the sight of Oswald’s folds under the thin fabric. 

Oswald didn’t know what to say, what to do, he was melting and freezing all at once, gripping at Ed’s soft worn sheets. He’d never let anyone see him like this, let one touch him. It was… Ed. 

Ed was everything. 

“Everything, Ed. I want you to give me everything.” Oswald finally begged and watched as Ed grinned and climbed onto the bed like a cat. He was hovering over Oswald, letting their noses caress for a moment. 

“Ozzie, I can’t hold myself back anymore. You’re killing me.” Edward said in a near begging voice and let one hand grab at the other’s underwear. 

His mind was rolling, twisting and bending all at once. He was made of need. His cock was taking over his brain, it was terrifying. 

And exciting. 

Oswald was nodding and let his own hands push at the offensive green fabric of Edward’s underwear. 

“Yes, yes, off, off ” Oswald moaned out and finally let himself be okay with what was happening. He was going to have sex with Ed. 

“What a good boy” Ed whispered into Oswald’s ear before sitting back on his heels to pull both their underwear off. Kicking his own off the bed. 

Fuck… Oswald was somewhere else when that left Ed’s lips. Some other planet. Somewhere where his cock was throbbing and Ed was the only other thing that ever existed. 

And he didn’t come back to actual Earth until Ed was cradling his weak, melted body against his own panting chest whispering in Oswald’s ear. 

“Eddie…” Oswald whispered in a thick fog of wondrous pleasurable afterglow. 

“Hey, my love, are you okay? Are you awake now?” Ed asked and rubbed his hands across Oswald’s belly. The short boy hummed and rolled onto his side to nuzzle into Ed’s chest. He then realized three things. 

He was wearing a pair of underwear that were absolutely his own. 

He was wearing a shirt that was absolutely not his own. 

His insides fucking hurt. 

“Eddie, ugh, hurts” Oswald whined and pushed at his own stomach, low over where his cervix was bruised and slightly bleeding. The small mark in his underwear later would confirm that, yeah, Edward made him bleed. 

“I’m sorry, baby. Was I too rough? You just sounded so… oh , so beautiful.” Ed said and rubbed his hands across Oswald’s back covered in one of Ed’s own oversized sleep shirts. Oswald just whined and felt very very tired. 

“Wanna sleep Eddie. Wanna snuggle.” Oswald said in a whiney nearly childish voice and shoved himself harder into Ed’s body. 

Ed just hummed and relaxed back onto the bed, letting Oswald lay half on top of him. He’d fucked Oswald till the other boy had actually cried so no wonder Ozzie was so tired. He’d cum at least twice with Ed’s cock buried inside him and the brunette playing with his small cock. 

-0-0-0-

[amazingmsme]

So I’m still trying to work on their backstories, but I think I got the main important bits that I can build off of later

Sorry that these aren’t as even as I’d like, but Asterios’s backstory came much easier than Leander’s. I still gotta come up with his home life & such, but for the most part, I like where he’s at!

Our big lovable himbo, Leander. About as tall as Eurylochus, but even beefier. He’s got the personality of an orange cat: dumb, crazy & happy. BRT you thought I was gonna say golden retriever, huh? But yeah, he’s also a golden retriever jcvskahd

He’s got strong Laios vibes, just sayin’

Would’ve absolutely eaten the lotus, are you kidding me? Even if he knew. Just a nibble! Just to see what it tastes like…

He’s honestly a jack of all trades & dabbles in a bit of everything, but he excels at sword fighting & spear throwing

Sees training as a type of game & goes all out on his opponents, then doesn’t understand why no one wants to spar

A disciple of Apollo, he really appreciates the arts & has a really nice, deep singing voice, but he’s surprisingly shy when it comes to singing in front of others

Loves the sun & likes to lay on the deck enjoying its warmth. He’s kind of a slacker tbh but he makes up for it when he does help because he’s so strong

So he falls in love with one of the nymphs on Circe’s island, & in the original show he ends up staying to be with her. But for my fic, he stays with the crew to go back home & is so lovesick, he gets on everyone’s nerves

But in the original version, he’s one of the few (maybe only?) crew that actually lives because of his choice to stay

They fall in love after he turns human again & jokingly says “man, I’ll miss being a pig. Well, it was fun while it lasted, right guys?” & everyone’s yelling at him & giving him shit for it & this one nymph thinks that’s just so funny

He doesn’t even know how funny he is, he just be sayin’ shit. & it’s one of the things that made her fall for him

Their love came on quick & strong. Think summer romance, opening of Grease, that kinda stuff. They’re so lovey dovey, & it’s all genuine!

Just a big ol’ teddy bear. A ticklish softie. You wouldn’t expect him to be so ticklish because of how big & strong he is, but just a few pokes can make him crumble

Has a very fun & goofy personality & never fails to make people laugh! Even if he has to tickle it outta them lol

Sometimes when his hair is up, his ponytail will brush his neck & he’ll giggle & whip his head around expecting someone to be there, but nope. He realizes what happened & looks around to make sure no one saw & if they did he gets all flustered & makes up some excuse to leave

You better hope he’s not in a playful mood if you go after him because he will turn it into a tickle fight, & he’s pretty competitive lol

He’ll help out if someone is trying to get someone else by catching them & holding them down. Likewise, if you want to wreck him, you better have someone to hold him down

He’s such a silly ler, & raspberries are one of his favorite tactics but the dude cannot take what he dishes out

His worst spots are his armpits, belly, thighs & feet, but he’ll be a giggling mess no matter where you try

So his backstory popped tf off ok it got away from me

He’s the son of Eris, goddess of discord & strife, hence the ear wings (a lot of her children had wing imagery & he can hide them by folding them & tucking them under the hair behind his ears)

He was unplanned & Eris cast him down to earth because she at least knew she’d be a bad mother for a half mortal. She may not want anything to do with him, but she does want to check up & see how he’s doing

His adopted parents found him washed on the shore of a riverbed, in a broken basket. He was there long enough that he’d fallen asleep, but he was still clutching a gold chain necklace in his tiny fist (his real mother’s necklace, & the only clue he had to go off of)

He was a terrible troublemaker growing up, & his parents had to actively teach him to be kind & thoughtful because of how he’d treat others & instigate fights. But his mischief leveled out to normal levels, & he was actually a pretty decent child all things considered

But just being around him can change your mood, where you’re more annoyed & prone to start fights, but he’s learned to control this

Grew up not knowing he was adopted, just knowing & feeling he was extremely different. He had few friends growing up, because his general aura is off putting & intimidating. So he just grew up thinking he was somehow wrong, & everyone hated him

His parents tried to tell him multiple times, but couldn’t bring themselves to confess. Especially his mom, as if telling him he’s adopted would somehow make him less hers, & make him feel isolated more than he already was. They also didn’t want to tell him until they knew who’s child he was, but they had no clue

They found out close to his 13th birthday, after finding a mural of Eris wearing the necklace that he showed up with

He didn’t take the news well & basically blamed himself for every misfortune their family faced. & then the spiraling of why didn’t his mom want him? Is it just because he’s human or was it something else? Do these parents even want him, or was he just a burden thrust into their arms? they adore him, but they know no matter what they do, he will always have that doubt in the back of his mind

Eris finally showed herself when he was 16, crying in her temple & cursing her name for forcing him to live like this. It went about as you’d expect (skirting all the blame, playing the victim, & saying how much better he is without her & how he should instead thank her for the way things turned out)

Eris at least had the decency to warn him about the upcoming war, & even proudly took responsibility. Basically just called up her estranged son to bitch & spill some tea & then peaced tf out. So after that he felt like he had no choice but to join the war

He feels incredibly guilty about the war because of what he knows. Like it’s his fault somehow. Once he gets close enough to Leander, I feel like he’d confess these emotions on a sleepless night

His feelings of being an outcast only grow once they’re shipped off to war, because at first he doesn’t feel like he can relate to anyone. Or that anyone even wants him around, he can feel people staring. But then this big dumb jock comes bumbling over, introducing himself & asking if he’s “excited to see the world!” & Asterios has to laugh because no way is this guy serious. But he was, & they’ve been best friends ever since. Every moody bitch gotta have a ray of sunshine bff!

They’re actually roommates lmao. But a few other guys also share the room

He channels all his rage into his training & fighting, so he’s really skilled at what he does. & he inherited divine strength, so even tho he may not look it, he could totally beat everyone in an arm wrestling match

This sad boy needs to lighten tf uuuup he’s always sulking or brooding

Either Leander or Polites were trying to cheer him up, & when nothing else worked they gave a curious squeeze to his sides & he kiiiinda freaked out (he kinda knew he was ticklish, but he’d completely forgotten because it’s been so long & it’s basically like getting tickled for the first time

Afterwards he lowkey can’t stop thinking about it because he’s never had the chance to cut loose & play with someone his own age like that. & it felt stupid & silly, but he can’t ignore the fact that it actually did make him feel better he refuses to admit it tho

HE’S GOT DIMPLES!!! You can’t tell in the pic cause of his stubble, but trust me, they’re there. But the crew didn’t even know for the longest time because he rarely ever smiles wide enough for them to show up

Tries to act like it’s childish & beneath him, meanwhile he’s internally trying to keep his cool so he can fly under the radar in it’s happening near him

If a tickle fight breaks out, he’s suddenly nowhere to be found. The whole thing flusters him, & the idea of him getting drug in is too exciting & scary to think about. Until someone eventually drags his ass into the fray

He inherited some of his mother’s powers & he will absolutely use them to his advantage when he sees fit. His powers are: super strength, super speed, telekineses, umbrakineses (shadow manipulation), & chaos/discord manipulation (control emotions & situations to instigate fights)

He managed to get a better grip on his powers & people aren’t constantly on edge around him, but when things on the ship get boring, he’ll spice things up with a little bit of his chaos manipulation. But he basically gives a random crew member a ler mood, & directs them toward a specific target

He got away with it for a while

His ear wings are his worst spot & he hates it so much, he’s already extremely self conscious & embarrassed of them, so the fact that they’re so sensitive feels like a cruel twist of fate. Everyone else absolutely loves that fact

His other worst spots are his knees, ribs, shoulders, & hips. Lanky boy has gotta be ticklish in all the boney places, it’s the law

[edvinssmedvin]

Choking part 6

Read more here: 1 2 3 4 5

Summary: Steve was hanging on by a thread, and it finally breaks. Switches between Eddies and Steve’s POV

CW: Panic attacks, Spiraling, Flashback-ish, mentions of throwing up, gagging, Just kinda sad overall

Eddie walked down to the hotel parking lot, cursing himself as he patted his pockets once more to confirm,

yup, he had forgotten his keys.

The only key he had on him was their hotel room key and all the kids were waiting in the car to go out and explore the city.

He had left Steve a note and hoped he’d be up for when they got back so they could get ready for the show.

But he was so focused on getting them out that he forgot what he needed to start the car with!

Probably a bad decision but he left Max in charge and headed back the way he came.

He had to walk back up the parking lot stairs and to the elevator.

And god he needs to work out more because walking up back up there is a feat.

AND—He had to lean on the elevator wall while he waited for it to reach his floor because he needed to take a couple of deep breaths to calm down after such an exercise. Jesus Christ.

It's a wonder he is still alive after the upside down. Granted, he did almost die but he technically made that choice himself. Keyword: Almost.

He had walked up to the hotel room door and when he had unlocked it and swung the door open, something felt off.

He brushed it off, thinking it was fine. But as he headed into the room, at the corner of his eye he noticed something in the bathroom.

He turned around, everything in slow motion as he zeroed in on Steve curled up on the ground. Like a movie, everything felt magnified. He felt aware of everything in the room, from the small drip in the bathroom faucet to the loud buzzing of the fan in the next room.

Eddie stood in the doorway of the bathroom, frozen. When he walked into the all-too-quiet room, Eddie figured that Steve was asleep. But guilt worked its way up Eddie's throat. He had been so focused on getting things his way and being petty, he didn't notice Steve struggling until he was on the floor with shaking sobs.

At this point, he knew apologies wouldn't do much but he couldn't help the words spilling out of his mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Eddie whispered to Steve as he ran into the bathroom. He crouched next to him, his hands still hovering, unknowing of what to do.

Eddie shielded his view from everything but himself. He opened his mouth to say something, anything to convince him it'll be okay but closed it back up, for once in his life he had no words.

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting to find when looked in the bathroom but finding Steve in the middle of a panic attack was definitely not it. Steve looked terrified, his face still hidden in his knees and shaking with sobs.

He put his hand on Steve’s shoulder and he looked up for a quick sec but his sobs only came out more frantic so Eddie quickly moved his hand away.

Eddie cursed, mentally facepalming himself for not inviting Robin, Steve's other half. Someone who actually knew what to do.

“Steve?” Eddie said carefully, trying to get a reaction and mostly not sure of what to do. “Steve, please look at me.” He said again, trying to sound stern but coming out desperate.

Steve didn't indicate to Eddie that he heard him and so Eddie got down from his crouched position on the floor like a frog and knelt on his knees, knowing they'd probably fall asleep for sitting too long with how slow this was going so far.

Steve could hear Eddie trying to talk to him but he didn't have the energy to answer, every movement felt like more bricks laid on top of him. “Steve, please look at me.” He heard Eddie almost pleading, trying to get his attention but he felt safer in the position he was in. He knew he was hyperventilating but he wondered if he did ever calm down, how would the other shoe drop?

So he stayed silent, hoping his boyfriend would leave so he wouldn't have to deal with the embarrassment that is his emotions.

His heart was pounding in his chest. The last thing he needed was for Eddie to see how broken he is, to deem that he was bullshit.

His facade was already cracking and soon everyone will see how much of a liar he was, a manipulator.

He pretended to be happy for others but tricked Eddie into being happy with him when he was far from it. “Steve, I need you to look at me,” Eddie pleaded once more but Steve doesn’t dare to look up to him. Doesn’t dare to show himself.

“everything’s okay!” Eddie tried to explain and though he didn’t raise his voice or yell but it was said with just enough force to scare him.

Steve tried to hold back but he flinched at the assertive voice, his breaths more uneven than the last.

Black spots once again seeped into the already limited vision he had where his forehead rested on his knees, tears smearing everywhere on his fancy pj pants.

But Steve didn’t look up just yet. He knew he was on the fast track to passing out but he was taking a chance. He reasoned that if he did pass out at least he didn't have to confront what was going on, and ultimately didn't have to talk about what was happening.

He felt a hand on his knee and it sent him jumping, flinching so hard as if he had been hit. He waited for the pain to follow, he assumed Eddie was going to hurt him but no punches were thrown.

That confused him, the light touch not expected. His body prepared for pain.

The difference between reality and his memories were hard to find. Everything all at once was flowing through his mind, he thought he had calmed down a bit but when Eddie had touched him, it had worked him back up. Forcing more tears out of the surface.

The past and present synced together and he could no longer remember where he was, The byers? Starcourt? The upside down? Steve didn't know but he felt stuck, utterly useless to the damage that could be done.

He knew Eddie was in front of him, still trying to get his attention. It was like his ears were filled with cotton, blood rushing through his them and his heart pounding.

The world was still tilting around him, if he had dared to get out of the safety bubble he was in he’d most likely going throw up.

But he took his chances, he looked up from where his head was resting, to see Eddie staring back at him.

As expected, the adrenaline rush making him gag, he quickly snapped his mouth shut, grinding his teeth against each other and tensing to prevent himself from becoming sick.

Embarrassed, there was a tense silence where Steve couldn’t hear anything but himself and his sobs slowing down at a record-timing snail's pace.

Steve was dying to know what would happen, what Eddie would say but he also didn’t want to find out in case he didn’t like the answer.

Steve thought to himself. He’s going to break up with me. He hoped he was just working himself up and that Eddie wouldn’t.

But he could, and nothing is stopping him. Steve realized.

He ignored his thoughts and watched as Eddie moved first, through tears and snot he could see him move his other hand that was not on his knee out to him, Eddie slowly took his hand and held Steves, moving it to his chest.

Steve's head felt full of cotton, disgusting. His nose was stuffy and his eyes were almost sore, red, and hot from tears, some still falling. He shook his head “I’m sorry,” His muffled voice was strained, hurting. It felt like he was choking on nothing but air as he repeated once more to Eddie– “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“For what?” Eddie asked and Steve honestly didn’t know. he just squinted instead of answering, his eyes still burning but curious to see what he was doing.

Eddie kept his hand on his chest and Steve didn't even realize he was unconsciously following the others' breath until just now, the rise and fall of his chest slowing down as did his sobbing.

“Steve, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

With Eddie looking at him with such sorrow in his eye he couldn’t help but try and reach out, “please-” just like a switch he cut himself off, crying heavily again, his shoulders wracked with more sobs. The tears nonstop on and off again.

Eddie looked at him in concern. He kept his hand on Steve's knee and the other on his chest.

Looking to the ceiling, Eddie cursed whatever higher power gave him such bad luck. Eddie didn't want to rush Steve, but he doesn't see any stopping point in the near future and he needs to get the kids back upstairs, he was supposed to be watching them. He’d most likely be dead if he didn’t get the kids home in one piece, either by the parents or Steve.

Trying to choose his battle, he reasoned that he could grab the kids and make it back to Steve fast if he ran, thinking it’s probably not a good choice to leave Steve by himself but he can’t leave the kids either.

Eddie assumes their worried and hopes they don’t get themselves in to much trouble.

“Steve, you don't have to answer but I'll be right back.”—Steve nods weakly and that just breaks Eddie’s heart more—“I promise.”

Eddie sat up, unsteady, almost as graceful as a baby deer. Just like he assumed, his legs fell asleep from the position he was in.

Slowly but surely he got blood rushing back to his legs where the circulation was cut off and when he did, even after complaining about exercising, he ran faster then ever before.

Steve felt defeated, as he watched Eddie run out of the room.

Every part of the walls he built up came crashing down. A simple note somehow left him oh so very empty.

Everything that made him ‘Steve’ was gone. He no longer had the energy to act.

The perfectly created mask everyone loved was gone and Eddie would most likely leave too, after what he just witnessed he’s probably not coming back.

Part of him doesn’t want him to come back, knowing if he does, they'll have to talk about what was happening and that fucking terrifies him.

He was never taught to speak his emotions, his parents more of a ‘be seen not heard’ kinda people. And one thing he learned from hushed whispers behind cracked doors from them is:

Never let them know what you feel.

He knows they’ll turn on him if they figure out how weak he really is. Any feelings he voices will be mocked, a thing to make people laugh. A horrible punchline.

Authors note: sorry for the delay!! I hope I didn’t disappoint, I’ve been editing this for like the past hour and I’m still not so sure how I feel about it so if u have any comments, edits or suggestions feel free to let me know!

[jamasauruos-blog]

Story time. How my Ed started.

Since this is kinda like a diary for me. I’m gonna post about how my Ed started.

I was roughly about 9 maybe… idk my childhood was quite the blur. I was living w my mom at the time in hartwell ga. She had a few boyfriends since my dad had been gone. This one tho was violent n drunk n controlling. He may have done other drugs too. I vaguely remember seeing lil plastic bags w twist ties on their bedroom floor. At the time I was too young to know what it really was.

Back then my mom could hold down a job. But one night he had gotten mad n when my mom came out of the bedroom the next morning, her face was bruised. A black eye n a busted lip to match. She had tried to use make up to “even out” the black eye but it didn’t really work.

He hated that she was so nice to ppl at her work (I think she worked at a Murphy gas station). She was the kind of southern woman who called everyone “honey, sweat heart, darling ,ect”. N that was everyone. No matter if you were a young man or an old granny. But couldn’t stand it. He would actually sit at her job n watch her.

I think that’s one of the things that lead to the fight that night. Bc she didn’t go to work. He had gotten what he wanted; she quit her job out of embarrassment. She didn’t want ppl to see her. After this is when shit got bad.

Since my mom wasn’t working, he needed to find work. He found a job at a rock quarry n the bonus part was they had a house that could be rent free all we’d have to do is pay electric n water. Sounds awesome right!!! That is until i saw the house. The first impression I got was disturbing. There was no front door so a dog had made that his shelter. He slept on a mattress in the entrance. When he came out of the house he was sick looking. His skin was red in splotches covered in scabs. My mom said he had a skin disease called mange.

I thought to my self “gross this is gonna be my home?”. Me n my sisters refer to the house as the cement house bc that’s what the house was made of. Looking back this place was so gross. The floors were solid stone like the floors you’d see in sams. All the walls were made of cement blocks. It was a cold home. I distinctly remember there was no “normal shower”. The tub was gross. When you tried to run the water discolored mess would come up from the drain. But we made it work like always. We got one of those storage containers n stood in that for the tub. N as for the water (cause I don’t think there was a shower head just to spout) uuuuugh well we used a water hose. If you were the lucky one you got your shower first. Bc in the beginning there was 5 seconds of warmth. The water that was sitting in the hose all day was so warm. But the cold water soon snapped you back to reality.

I hated showers. I would try to do just my hair bc I didn’t want to be shivering all over. O wash my body while cupping water in my hands. I think one day my mom got a lil frustrated w me n she took control. This time it wasn’t slow n easy. Her way was to rip it off like a band aid. I hated her bc now I was shaking but relieved that it was over.

In that house is where to bad stuff started. One night while me n my two sisters were sleeping he came in n dragged me out on a blanket, half asleep. When we got to his destination, he started his work. He told me I was beautiful n that if I had sex w him then he would give me anything I wanted. He begged n pleaded while running his hands over my body. I was in shock like what did I even do. Then he proceeded. When he touched me w his “thing”, I jumped up. Thinking time was over. I needed to get away from him.

There were other times past that but I won’t get into details. I didn’t know what to do. Should I tell me mom? Or should keep it a secret? I didn’t know where we would live. In my mind it was this situation or be homeless. So I decided to keep it a secret.

Fast forward a few years n I still hadn’t talked to anyone about it. A friend here n there but not anyone who knew how to help me. My anxiety continued to grow. I became fearful of men. What were they thinking? Did they look at me in a sexual way? Were they secretly planning something? Going to the store was different now. Waiting in doctors office was nerve wracking. Teachers, uncles, n so much more were scary. I soon thought well they must be looking at my butt o boobs but if I lost them then I would be safer. I wanted to look stick thin. I wanted no more curves. Soon this ideal body was my new idea of beauty.

N that’s how the Ed started. Now when I relapse it’s not bc I’m scared of the men. Its more I need that figure. Bc that is what beauty really is.

For anyone who made it till the end comment your experience. Why did your Ed start?

[autumntouched]

Unpopular opinion anon here,

I realize I wasn't very clear when it came to my comment about writers not having a right to demand engagement and that's on me for writing out my response late at night while half asleep.

With that comment, I wasn't thinking about when writers open up their asks for prompts or requests (and I do sincerely hope that people who submit asks or prompts are at least thanking the writer for them - because those *are* basically gifts from a writer to a reader & it would be incredibly rude not to say thank you!), but more so along the lines of when writers post unsolicited/unprompted fics.

As an example, just recently a writer I follow on here made an announcement that they won't be finishing a fic they started because the first chapter they posted didn't get the level of engagement they wanted for it. And while that's fine and totally their prerogative, the passive aggressive post about why they weren't going to finish it kinda turned me off of that writer for a bit.

And yes, it is much easier to interact with readers & fellow fans on Tumblr vs AO3. There's no doubt about that! (I feel like AO3 is *so* close to being perfect, they just need a few tweaks, but I digress).

Anyways, I hope that helps clear up where I was coming from with that comment! And I think the conversations you've started are ones that, while they might be uncomfortable for some, are ones that we've needed to have for a while on here. ❤️

Omg 🙈 This discussion has used up so many of my emotional spoons, but I really appreciate the way you all have engaged in it so thoughtfully, honestly, and openly. I was so worried this could devolve into an unhealthy and unproductive place (ahem other sm conversations) but I actually feel like we are moving toward ways of better understanding one another?

Also, I so appreciate the clarification and can understand the frustration of what feels like and can be unfair expectations on readers to behave in a certain way. Also writing with no sleep 😅 omg thank you for reading my response and not coming back with a punch 😭 I was there with you

Just jumping off the topic you’re raising and pivoting from a direct response to what you said:

I think in going back to the idea that everyone writes for different reasons, writers also have different needs to be able to do their work. I think that’s why I see writer/reader as a relationship? If I love their work and want more as a reader, there’s a level of meeting their expectations that I’m willing to go to. If it becomes too much for me, for any reason, I quietly exit and move on

But also, in respecting that relationship, as a reader I try to understand where they are coming from as a writer. If this is their hobby or they’re here to gain experience, I do want them to feel like their time was valuably spent and realize they may need a lot more validation. On my end as a writer, as much as I love my readers, I don’t need their validation in the same way because my writing abilities have been validated in other ways. So I ask for an emotional connection. And I totally respect if that’s not everyone’s cup of tea ❤️ I mean, obviously I still LOVE and appreciate praise but my confidence in my skill set remains intact (for the most part lol). You’re right, no one should have to engage in ways they don’t want to or be expected to. I think moving forward that’s something I can put at the top of my blog so readers are aware of how I prefer to interact. That doesn’t mean I’m kicking anyone out or stopping anyone but then readers are not caught off guard when I raise my hand about something. And if that’s not how they want to be engaged they can say oop, this writer is not for me or good to know, won’t let her know I’ve read this 😂 That means you might not get the stories you want, but I think we’re both recognizing there are trade offs in all of this and we have to be comfortable with our boundaries turning people away. Obviously if engaging causes anxiety or any other mental health issues please do what works for you but then you’ll have context for why I’m making certain decisions on my end without surprise or a feeling out of the blue I’m leaving you. Managing expectations seems like the best phrase? I hope this sounds fair to people but let me know ❤️

Okay, responding directly again: Thank you so much for sitting with me in this REALLY uncomfortable conversation and expressing your frustrations as a reader. Hopefully I can make at least my own space a little better for everyone out of this

[lavenderbexlatte]

day 17 - cockwarming

nct 1.1k words female reader insert Reader x Mark Lee NSFW

🖤 warnings: almost entirely Markspeak aka my favorite language, mark lee is inexperienced but well-meaning and ready to learn, penetrative sex, unprotected sex 🖤

kinktober masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

"Yo, I don't think it's like...physically possible, I'm serious."

"What's not?" you ask, groggy.

You'd been almost asleep, but Mark's very serious, very inquisitive statement dragged you right back out of it, much to your frustration. It's suddenly very hard to remember why you let him sleep over so often.

"This."

He slides his phone right in front of your face, resting on the pillow, and you blink against the sudden light. When you adjust, you can see a stupid tweet from someone with an anime profile pic talking about, of all things, cockwarming.

"What the hell are you looking at?"

"It just came on the TL, I dunno."

"Do we have to get your internet usage monitored or something?"

"No, fuck you!" he says automatically, "I just don't - how would that even work?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"Do you see anyone else here to ask?" Mark pulls his phone back, squinting down at the screen through the thick square lenses of his glasses that sit askew on his face.

He's well and truly woken you up, now, so you sit up more. A closer glance at his phone (that tweet still open - he's obsessed) reveals that it's barely two in the morning. You'd been in that place of mostly-asleep for maybe an hour, and you get the feeling you won't be nodding off again for a while.

"Do you even know what it is?" you ask.

Mark snorts. "Duh. Googled it."

"You couldn't figure it out by context clues?"

"The last fuckin' thing I need is to guess another sex thing wrong, yo," he mumbles.

You give him a vague sympathetic sound and a smack on the shoulder that mostly misses. "Don't wanna get bullied at Dream practice again?"

"As if those guys even get any."

"I'm sure Jeno could if he-"

"Ew," Mark interrupts.

He still has not put the phone down.

"Is there...something else to this?" you ask gently.

"Maybe."

Mark is ridiculous and distinctly teenaged-boy in his sense of humor, but he's not stupid. You know he's trying to roundabout his way into saying something. He wouldn't be fixating on it for any other reason.

"Does that something involve me?"

Mark gives you a half-grin, finally dropping his phone into the sheets. "Ha, maybe."

"Well, let me know when you figure it out." You roll over onto your side, facing away from him.

As soon as you're not looking directly at him, Mark seems to get himself together. Out of the spotlight, as it were, which is ironic.

"Kinda wanna try it."

You smile to yourself. "There we go."

"Is that a yes?"

Mark isn't even in the top 10 horniest guys you've ever met, content to do mostly nothing even when you're spending nights together, which is why you're being patient. He must be really interested in this, to mention it beyond a comment and a quick laugh.

"You need to ask for real so I can answer," you tease.

"I wanna try it," Mark says.

"Neat."

He groans. You hear a clatter that's probably his glasses hitting the bedside table, flung off as he does something dramatic. You peek back over your shoulder, and yep, he's got his head in his hands, slumped into the pillow.

"You could just say yeah and let me try the thing like a normal person," Mark says, through the muffle of his hands.

"That's no fun."

A second later and Mark's gathered up behind you, big spoon. "Please?"

"Go ahead," you say, wriggling into him a bit, "But I'm telling you, based on some things I know, I don't think you're gonna like it."

"Don't underestimate me, yo."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Whether or not you think Mark is going to ultimately like what he's getting himself into, he's determined to try. Obviously, as he presses even closer and lets his hand wander over your waist, under the loose fabric of your pajama shirt, his distracted mouth finding your neck.

You'll always marvel at Mark's natural hesitation manifesting itself as the perfect kind of anticipation game.

Fingers splay across your stomach, dipping ever so slowly toward the waistband of your panties. His breath is hot on your throat as he picks a place to bite down, moves over an inch, moves back, excruciating amounts of time between each action. He's not trying to tease you, but every time he pauses to second-guess himself, he's making you wait, and it kills you.  

Perfect Mark Lee form, honestly, being inadvertently good at literally everything.  

He doesn't have to understand why he's so good at this, and you're sure he doesn't, but regardless of intent and finesse, you're slipping off your own clothes in frustration after what feels like hours of slow exploration. You've done this enough times. He doesn't need to take his sweet time night after night, but he always does.

Mark doesn't even seem to notice that you've gotten yourself undressed until he goes to grind his clothed cock into you and finds...nothing.

"Aw, shit," he mumbles, and his hands leave you to get his own clothes off.

"Your Google search told you everything, right?" you ask.

It's all skin on skin when Mark returns to his spot behind you. "I don't need Google to tell me how to fuck."

"...Well-"

"Anymore!"

"Not what I was going to say but thanks for the honesty."

"How d'you wanna..." he trails.

You hum, noncommittal. "Like this?"

He huffs out a laugh. "Convenient."

It's easy enough for Mark to haul your leg back over his, giving himself better access as you both lay on your sides, still spooning comfortably. It's even easier to let Mark line himself up and slide home, the angle not particularly deep but letting his head rub over your g-spot with every gentle rock.

It is not easy to get Mark to sit still.

He's energetic at the best of times, a guy with insane body control that translates well into the bedroom despite his stubborn lack of skill or pacing. It's a mystery to you why he's so interested in trying something where the point is to do nothing.

"Gotta stop moving," you chide.

"I know, but damn..."

Eventually he gets comfortable. As comfortable as he's gonna get, anyway.

"How long - I mean-"

"That's the point, isn't it?" you say. "How long can you hold out?"

"Not sure."

You yawn, despite the stimulation. You were tired before, and you're still tired now.

"Well, if it's not gonna be long, let's just do the damn thing and go to sleep," you suggest. "You know, if you can't hang."

You can feel Mark's entire body, pressed so close to yours, tense up. Predictable. Framing it as a challenge is a surefire way to get a top-notch performance from Mark Lee.

"I can."

"You can?" you ask. "You can just lay there, inside me, and not do anything?"

Just to be an asshole, you clench around him, and relish in his fingers digging into your side.

"I can," he repeats.

"We'll see, won't we?"  

[whoreforhorror]

Hellooooo! I’m back again 😗

Can I do a request where the s/o has a hard time sleeping so they kinda just walk around the house or sit somewhere else that isn’t the bedroom until they feel tired. They try not to wake the slashers (hence the being in another room) but the slashers obviously wake up and comfort the reader and eventually get them to sleep.

As always, Bo, Vince, and Brahms 🫡

Thank you so much, you’re amazing in every way.

Hello again, Sketchy! Glad to hear from you again! I know I said this with the first request you sent me but this one is also SO ME! Actually, I write everything in this sort of mode when its 12pm-4am and I can’t sleep. I had an absolute blast writing this! I think you’ll really like this one and it might just be my favorite that I’ve written for you!

Bo, Vincent, and Brahms with an S/O who wanders/sits around when they can’t sleep

Bo Sinclair:

You had promised yourself that tonight you were going to make yourself lay in bed and wait for sleep to come, yet here you were now. Bo had been asleep for half an hour before you’d gotten up and moved into the living room. It was like this every night, nearly. Sleep didn’t come easy so you’d move to sit in the living room until you felt you were about to pass out. 

You spent the time reading, catching up on things that you hadn’t gotten to in the day, or just generally lazing around and thinking about anything that came to mind. Music was also a close companion to you in these late hours. In general, you figured that moving to the living room would spare Bo from having to deal with any of it. He worked hard during the day and was bone tired by the time he laid down in bed. It wouldn’t be fair to keep him up with your… Insomnia? Anxiety? Restlessness. 

You’d walk around if you weren’t worried about Vincent in the basement. He needed his sleep for his creativity. This particular night, you sat staring at a blank tv and thinking about nothing in particular. Sleep felt closer than it had two hours ago when you’d first gotten out of bed, but still much too far away to think you’d be asleep any time soon.

You’d been sort of spacing off in thought when you heard the stairs creak, alerting you that Bo had woken up. You turned your head to greet him as he reached the main floor and you swear you saw him jump just a bit when you spoke and asked why he was up. He said he was looking for you. A hint of guilt rose up the back of your throat knowing that he was up late because of you.

He shuffled over to join you on the couch, sleep seemingly doubling down on Bo to make up for your restlessness. He slung an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into him as he moved your head to rest on him. His voice was gruff, evidence that he hadn’t been up for long, as he asked why you were up. When you told him you couldn’t sleep, he gave a low hum in response. After a few long moments of silence, he spoke back up to ask how often this happened. To your reply of ‘often’ he hummed again.

The two of you sat like that for a long while, in the dark and in silence. The stillness of it all, mixed with the warmth Bo was radiating seemed to make your eyelids heavy and your thoughts slow. You were only half conscious by the time he shuffled the both of you, him laying down with you on top of him, your head on his chest as his arms rested on your back as if to make sure you stayed there. As if you wanted to be anywhere else in this moment. 

Your breathing got slower, deeper as your blinks grew longer and longer. One of Bo’s hands left its position on your back to pet your hair. You were out before you knew it, sleeping deeper than you had in weeks. Bo was better than any glass of warm milk or blanket straight from the dryer could ever be. 

By the time you wake up, the sun has risen and Bo has left the couch. You had a blanket over you and pulled up to your chin. You would have thought you’d imagined the whole night if it weren’t for the faint smell of Bo that still lingered on your clothes and the couch below you. 

After that night, Bo held you a little closer in bed. He stayed up a little later to see how tired you were, and would ask more often how you slept in the morning. It didn’t always fix your restlessness, but you didn’t leave bed quite as often and that was progress.

Vincent Sinclair:

Vincent is a really, REALLY light sleeper so it’s basically impossible to do anything but lay in bed with your thoughts or the sketchbook Vincent gifted you a while back, if you remembered to put it somewhere you can reach it. Sitting with your thoughts or drawing/writing in your sketchbook are really your only two options.

Vince also stays up really late, so for you to be up later than him is quite the achievement. Still, insomnia is no match for the late-night habits of an artist. You’ve been awake for about an hour since he fell asleep, and you were starting to get restless. Before him, you’d move to a different room if you were going to sit. Beds made you toss and turn in discomfort, but Vince already got so little sleep as it is, so you’d made the decision to bear through it.

Until you couldn’t. You just couldn’t take laying down and tossing around in bed. You had to sit up and do something, ANYTHING besides lay there. Just as you thought, the instant you sit up, Vince is awake and looking at you. You had to explain why you were up, being unable to sleep and feeling trapped just laying down. He gets it, he really does. Before you, he’d had the same issues.

Vincent sits up and takes a second to wake up a bit more before standing up and turning to help you up as well. You looked at him with confusion but took his hand regardless. He guided you out of the basement, motioning for you to be quiet and pointing upstairs to remind you that Bo was sleeping in the house as well. You felt like two delinquent teens trying to sneak out of the house without your parents noticing. Vince gave you an extra sweater of his and you both set out walking.

You held his hand, swinging it back and forth as you both strolled through town. The cicadas and other wildlife were loud, using their restlessness to make a song unique to the nights in the south. It was peaceful, if a bit chilly. Your eyes were up at the stars and the moon that hung in the air as if it had been painted there. Vincent must have noticed because he took a quick turn, deviating from the town roads and leading you into one of the abandoned houses.

You both went up the stairs and then out of a window in one of the bedrooms, climbing a ledge before finally settling down on the roof of one of the taller houses in town. There was already a blanket and some small art supplies in a box, indicating that Vince comes here often. It wouldn’t have surprised you if he did, knowing how much he loved the quiet and knowing how loud Bo could be in the house.

You were curled into Vince’s side as he laid on his back, getting a small sketchbook out of the little box and flipping through the pages. He’d drawn different parts of the night sky and marked out different constellations. He held the book up to the sky, matching the drawing to the location it held then pointing to the name of the constellations on the bottom of the page. Stargazing.

This when on for a while, and you realized occasionally that you weren’t paying attention. Your eyes were unfocused and your ears seemed to stop listening to the surrounding drone of the night. Vince caught on and set the book back into the box, closing it before moving to hold you. You were softly asleep soon after that.

When you woke up, you were back in the basement. It was sometime in the late morning and Vince was working on his newest sculpture while you laid firmly tucked into bed. His attention shifted to you as you sat up and rubbed your eyes. When you asked him how you’d gotten back, he’d signed that he’d carried you back home after you fell asleep. He also pointed to the glass of water he’d gotten you for when you woke up.

Stars and stargazing became a lot more of a symbol for the two of you after that night, leading Vince to get you a star necklace and nicknamed you 'his stars'. The two of you would have dates on that roof from time to time, and Vince had started planning to propose to you on that same roof when the time was right.

Brahms Heelshire:

The Heelshire manor was huge. There were rooms upon rooms upon rooms that were rarely or never used. It made for great wandering when you found yourself wide awake once again late at night. Maybe one day you’d even have the place mapped out in your mind. At the rate you wandered at night, it might only take you a couple of weeks. Sometimes, you’d think of different situations to keep your mind entertained. You were an old victorian ghost, haunting your old homestead centuries after your tragic death. You were a spy, sneaking into the house of a grand tzar to gather intel and maybe a few valuables for the road. Every night it was something new. Only one thing really had to be kept in mind. You HAD to be silent.

Brahms was a light sleeper at the best of times, so it’s a miracle that you could get out of bed to walk around at all. At this hour, squeaky floorboards, stairs, and doors were your worst enemy, and in a house as old as the Heelshire place? It was quite the task to avoid them. 

This night, in particular, you were wandering around the upper floors, seeing the different bedrooms and such as you went down the halls. Your mind was off somewhere else. You were an adventurer looking for the stolen diamond, a pirate hunting down the X on their map, a nanny with a possible case of insomnia, and a very large house calling your name. 

You were so far off in thought, in fact, that you’d forgotten that the particular door you were about to open had a particularly loud set of hinges. The resounding creak that came from them sure seemed to remind you, drawing your attention back to now as it echoed down the halls. You froze. The house was quiet at any given moment, being that it was just you and Brahms, but at night it was like a cool blanket settled over the place, muffling any noise from outdoors and sucking away any sounds of the heater or water running through pipes that you’d normally hear. 

You continued to stand, stock-still as you listened for any sign of Brahms. He’d surely throw a fit if he woke up to find that you weren’t in bed with him. Sure, he could sleep for days, but only if you were with him. If you’re not in his arms, he’s just as good at catching sleep as you are, which is to say it would completely evade him. Without sleep, he grew grumpy and short-tempered which would surely wind up in a fit. It was just better not to wake him up and alert him to your absence.

Any home of that went down the drain as you heard a high-pitched childish voice call out your name in confusion behind you, scaring you to death and back as you whipped around to see Brahms standing not too far away down the hall. He’d been absolutely silent in sneaking up behind you so quickly. You prepared yourself for some sort of whining or meltdown, apologizing softly for waking him up and explaining that you were just walking around because you couldn’t sleep. 

You suggested he go back to bed. He’d responded in the same childish voice “sleep with me.” and you could only get out his name in a sigh before he grabbed your hand, tightly but not forcefully, and started walking in the direction of the room you two shared. He wouldn’t take any version of no for an answer. It was frustrating, sure, but you knew in the back of your mind that he was doing it because he cared.

He lays down, bringing you with him and cuddling you in such a way that you were both on your sides, facing each other in a loose hug with Brahms’ leg thrown over your hips. You couldn’t go anywhere if you tried. After a moment, when you’re both settled and comfortable, Brahms starts humming softly. Not in his high-pitched, childish voice. No, he was humming in his low, natural voice, one of his favorite classical songs you’d often play while reading to him. It couldn’t have been more than three minutes before you were waking up the next morning.

Brahms learns, after this incident, that you’ll relax from just about anything if he hums to you. Angry? Humming. Stressed out? Humming. Crying? Humming. It’s his go-to cure and it works 90% of the time.

[theprettyarachnid]

about this idea where there is no viktor in the arcane, but a reader in his place, and if it were the opposite, Jayce wouldn't exist but the reader, who has feelings for viktor.

a/n: of course, i have to feed the viktor simps anyway ahahah

also i’m wrote the first half on my phone for the first time in months because i didnt have my computer so PLEASE excuse any weird typos or formatting, thanks babes

warnings: viktor kinda being a shit

🕷 Both of you are very work-oriented, so it took you for a turn when you started having feelings for your fellow colleague

🕷 You try not to entertain these feelings, this stupid crush, because Viktor would most likely never feel the same

🕷 So instead you decide to focus on your work and hide your feelings as much as possible

🕷 I know a lot of people see Viktor as the oblivious type when it comes to people’s romantic feelings but I feel like he just chooses to ignore them instead sorry sky

🕷 But since it’s his lab partner, he notices the change in behavior almost immediately and wants to know what’s up

🕷 After all this time working together, Viktor knows you better than you know yourself

🕷 He knows about your small habits that you have that others may not notice, such as you play with your hair when you’re nervous or pick at your lips

🕷 He knows picky you are about how your coffee tastes and memorized how to make it just the way you like it

🕷 Jesus, Viktor even knows about your sleeping habits because of the countless nights you two spent at the lab until morning

🕷 Although you usually end up passing out by 4

🕷 Viktor studied human behavior while working under Heimerdinger so it doesn’t take very long for him to catch on

🕷 When two and two came together, he would doubt himself at first mainly because of his own self-destructive tendencies and low self-esteem

🕷 Thoughts like “why would they be interested in me?” would be going through his head

🕷 deep down he would be kind of flustered at the idea though even if he didn’t show it

🕷 Because Viktor would want to make sure that he was right, he’d test his theory out

🕷 You would be hunched over your desk at some unholy hour when Viktor noticed you nodding off

🕷 "you know, it isn't the safest idea to be working in a lab while half asleep"

🕷 He would be leaning over you, his breath touching your neck, with his hand on your shoulder

🕷 You didn't realize he was that close until you turned your head

🕷 Your face would get hot as you tried to form some kind of sentence which told Viktor all he needed to know

🕷 He was right

🕷 After that, he started to notice more and more little things that you did

🕷 Viktor would often catch you staring at him while he was working or staring at the chalkboard with the corner of his eyes

🕷 He started noticing the blankets that would be draped over him when he woke up on his desk

🕷 Most importantly, you didn't treat him any differently from anyone else

🕷 Well you did, but not in the way he was used to

🕷 You didn't pity him like so many Piltover citizens did or look at him like he was some kind of beaten puppy

🕷 That's what Viktor liked the most

🕷 That's also when Viktor began liking you back

🕷 Whenever you two caught each other staring, you both would just quietly laugh and get back to work with small blushes on your faces

🕷 It would go on like this for awhile, just glances between you two or light touches on the shoulder

🕷 You two never acted awkward around each other fortunately but that was mainly because you two were so use to each other's presence

🕷 It wasn't until you and Viktor had a breakthrough with Hextech that he kissed you

🕷 When he pulled, realizing what he'd done, he would start apologizing with a blush on his face

🕷 "i'm sorry, i wasn't thinking.. that was inappropriate of-"

🕷 Viktor would shut up when you kiss his cheek though with a smile

🕷 He'd kiss you again after that

[bellesowl]

kiss and make up

- multiple characters 

⤷ atsumu, sakusa

genre: (an attempt at) angst to fluff ; established relationship, timeskip 

synopsis: in which you have an almost relationship-ending argument

word count: 2.1k total - about 1k each

warnings: fighting (obv), being called a burden, the boys are kinda mean but they make up for it i swear

- a/n: tbh i was kinda getting sick of writing just fluff so i wanted to spice it up a lil! if this sucks i’m probably going to stick to fluff fics but i think it should be fine? this one also only has 2 characs cause idk how i would be at writing angst LMAO if this does well enough i’ll post the one i have written w kuroo and iwa <3 but i feel like this kinda sucks so oh well

- thank u @kybabi for beta-ing <3

- miya atsumu

you n atsumu have been together since high school which is why you’ve always been inseparable

you went to the same college & moved in together right after, but once he got his job with the jackals, he insisted that you didn’t work and focused on getting your master’s degree

you reluctantly agreed, if only to be able finish & earn your phd soon after

because atsumu is always busy, it’s kinda become commonplace for you to do the chores around the house- like doing the laundry or washing the dishes or cooking dinner for him

but it’s gotten to the point where he expects it

atsumu sighs, unlocking the door to your shared apartment. today’s practice was rough, it was a day of hard conditioning and bad sets and he wanted nothing more than a good meal and to cuddle. the first thing he noticed when he walked in was the mess. instant ramen bowls were scattered everywhere, empty coke cans and dirty napkins were all over the floor, and there you were, in the eye of the hurricane. the second thing he noticed was that there was no homecooked meal.

surprised, he walks into the dining room to see you, furiously typing away at your laptop with four different books surrounding you. you hear his footsteps and look up.

“hey baby! how was practice?” you ask with a smile

atsumu grunts in reply and gestures toward the kitchen, “so.. what’s for dinner babe?”

your eyes widen, “oh shoot! i’m sorry, i was so busy studying for this final that i forgot to cook. do you mind-“ you stop when you see him roll his eyes and head out.

“um, where are you going? you just got home?” you ask, following him.

“out. i have to get food somehow” he replies, “especially because my useless s/o can’t cook a goddamn meal for me” he mutters under his breath

you stop in shock because did he really just say that?

“i’m sorry, i don’t think i heard you right.” you start but he interrupts you

“i said, i have to go get food because someone is too busy to cook a goddamn meal. what do you even do anyways- well, besides spend my money? the least you can do is cook for me, god.” he finally turns to look at you but he feels his heart stop at the look on your face.

not wanting to escalate the situation any further, you try to calm him down, “tsum, hey, i’m sorry i forgot to cook okay? this is my last final before the year ends and i just can’t afford to fail it, so i’ve been studying all day. if you come back to the kitchen, i’ll make you something, okay?”

“i don’t want to eat your half assed attempt at a meal, y/n. the whole point is that you couldn’t get off your ass for an hour to cook when i make the money, i paid for the apartment, hell, i’m even paying for your school! is it really too much to ask for you to stop being such a burden and cook and clean everyday?” he fumed.

you gape at him, shocked that he would even say that. to hell with not escalating things

“at least i want to do something more with my life than hit balls around and retire at 35” you hiss, “and i do everything in this house! i do the laundry, i clean the bathroom, i cook - i do all the things you refuse to. and do i complain? no. i offered to get a job but you refused.”

you turn around to grab your laptop and your textbooks, “just- just do whatever the hell you want to, atsumu.” and with that you walk out the door.

atsumu’s heart drops when he realizes that you actually left. sure, you’ve had arguments here and there, but you’ve never left. he pulls out his phone to call you when he sees you’ve left yours on the counter. knowing there’s nothing to do but wait at this point, he begins to clean up and calls osamu over.

-

it’s already 3 am when you walk back into your apartment, and you blink multiple times when you open the door. it’s ... clean? you’re sure it was a mess when you left, so how would it be clean? you sigh, too tired to think about it more and walk into the kitchen. your eyes widen at the sight. not only is your favorite food on the stove, but there your boyfriend is, asleep on the dining table. you smile slightly, well that explains things.

“ ‘’mu, hey, wake up babe.” you kiss him lightly and shake him.

he grunts and sits up, “baby! i’m so so sorry for what i said. you are in no way, shape, or form a burden, i have no clue why i said that. today’s practice was just really tiring, but i know i shouldn’t have taken it out on you. just please-” he sighs, “just please don’t leave me again.”

your heart breaks your teary eyed boyfriend. “shh, of course baby. i’ll never leave you again okay?” you say, tugging on his arm, “cmon babe, let’s go to bed, okay?”

“mm okay my love.” he replies and practically pulls you into bed. “i love you, okay?”

“i love you too baby.” you reply

“to the moon and back?” he asks

“yeah, and to infinity and beyond.” you reply, your lack of sleep hitting you hard

“oh, i didn’t know i was dating buzz lightyear”

you let out a loud laugh and just like that you both fall into the same routine, love radiating off both of you in waves.

- sakusa kiyoomi

dating sakusa was,, challenging

it definitely took him a while to get comfortable with you

so you guys have been dating for a couple years now, and at this point he’s def clingy

however there still moments when he reverts to his old self

this just happened to be one of those times

“OUT! AND JUST LIKE THAT, EJP RAIJIN TAKES THE WIN AGAINST THE BLACK JACKALS!”

the stadium is silent before the ejp cheering section erupts in cheers. you stay silent, watching your team below. you watch as sakusa stills, still in disbelief. you make your way down, practically sprinting to your boyfriend.

he sees you on the sideline and makes his way over to you. you put on your biggest smile and attempt to make him feel better.

“you did great, kiyo! you’ll get them next time, yeah?” you beam, knowing how hard he’s been training to beat his cousin

he eyes you warily, not knowing what to say.

usually, sakusa gets pretty clingy after games, so you you move to give him a hug.

“don’t touch me” he barked, jerking away from you. “if you hadn’t been distracting me, we would’ve won.”

you stare at him, refusing to let the tears flow. you both turn when you hear a certain setter yelling at the opposing middle and you sigh.

“um, okay then. i’ll see you at home, yeah?” you ask

sakusa merely nods and makes his way over to his teammates. you look around to see if anyone saw what just happened and you lock eyes with your boyfriend’s cousin, who walks over.

“congrats on the win komori! you guys did so well!” you cheered

“thanks, y/n! and i’m sorry about kiyoomi. i’m sure you know he gets that way sometimes.” he explains

you smile and shake your head, saying that you’re used to it and you both bid your farewells. as you walk out of the stadium, you think back to how your boyfriend, the one person you loved with everything you had in you, utterly embarrassed you in front of his whole team. before you know it, silent tears start streaming down your face. 

you enter your home and immediately rush to the bathroom. you draw yourself a bath and make some dinner while waiting. you assume that kiyoomi wouldn’t be home to have dinner with you anyways- and now that you think about it, you can’t remember the last time you had dinner together. after you finish your bath and eat your dinner, you decide to wait up for boyfriend and watch a couple episodes of your favorite show to pass the time. 

-

kiyoomi walks into his apartment at around 1 am, completely and utterly exhausted. he kicks his shoes off and drops his bag on the floor. The rustling rouses you from sleep and you sit up.

“hey kiyo” you say with a yawn, “where’ve you been all night?” 

sakusa ignores you in favor of getting ready for bed and you frown when he brushes past you. 

“kiyo, babe, what’s wrong? you’ve been ignoring me all night and i-” you start but he interrupts you before you can finish. 

“god, just shut up, y/n. can’t you tell i don’t want to talk to you right now? i’ve already had the worst day, i don’t need you making it any worse.” he snaps

"kiyoomi, look, i understand you’re upset but you shouldn’t take it out on me.” you reason, reaching out towards him, “listen, i’m here if you wanna-” 

“i said, do not touch me.” he seethes. “you are so fucking clingy y/n, lord, let me breathe a little.”

with those words, you explode. “you know what, sakusa,” he flinches when he hears his last name come out of your mouth, “i think i have the right to want to spend some time with my boyfriend! i haven’t seen you in god knows how long- you leave before i wake up and i fall asleep in an empty bed. i’ve been working my ass off to get some time off to watch your stupid volleyball game and what do you do? you embarrass me in front of your whole team!”

you sigh, wiping away the tears that continue that continue to fall. “listen, i don’t want to fight right now. i’m going to go stay at a friend’s house for the night, alright? i’ll see you tomorrow” you say, grabbing your purse. “if you’re even home tomorrow,” you add under your breath.

sakusa is in shock. the moment he saw your tears start to spill, he felt an undeniable and unrelenting ache in his chest that only seemed to grow with every work that came out of your mouth. and when the door shut? sakusa fell on his knees, his heart dropping. he truly couldn’t believe he said that to you. now all he had to do was wait till you got home.

-

2:38 pm - you check the time on your phone before pulling out your keys. you hope you made the right move, choosing to come back home while kiyoomi was still at practice. you open the door and the sight causes your eyes to widen.

there, on the couch with your favorite flowers in hand, is your boyfriend. he hears the door open and stands up abruptly.

“y/n, my love, i am so sorry. i truly cannot express how horrible i feel, and i cannot begin to understand how you feel.” he takes a deep breath, seemingly holding back tears. “i- i do love you. i love you more than i’ve ever loved anyone in my entire life. i know i’m not the best at expressing it, but you mean the world to me- no, you are my world. without you, i don’t know what i would do. so please-” his voice cracks, “just, please give me another chance?”

you run towards your boyfriend, practically tackling him. “kiyo, baby, of course. i love you too, you know? you just can’t do that anymore, yeah? you shouldn’t feel like you have the right to embarrass me just because you had a bad day. and please, don’t call me clingy? i know i do stick to you like glue sometimes, but that’s just because i never see you anymore.” you reply.

“that will all change, darling.” he answers sincerely, “i’ll make more time for you, i swear. in fact, i’ll take the week off, how does that sound?” at the sight of your smile, he relaxes.

“that sounds wonderful, yoomi.” you answer

sakusa feels the weight that’s been dragging him down lift and he realizes the effect you have on him- you’re his breath of fresh air. he also realizes how utterly idiotic it was to push away the one person who could make him feel better.

it’s fine, he reasons, he’ll just never make that mistake again. he swears it.

[study-coffee-chicago]

Overprotective (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister! Imagine)

A/N: This was a request from an anon who wanted overprotective Jay and Will and angst and fluff! So, I hope I did your request justice! 

Thanks for reading! Remember to like/reblog and comment! I love reading your comments because they put a smile on my face!

Thunderstorm (age 7)

It had been six months since your mom died. Jay was back from his second deployment and was now a police officer and Will was in New York for what you called doctor school. And your dad, well he was here in Chicago with you physically, but not mentally.

You whimpered as you hugged your teddy bear--whom you had affectionately named Officer Chuckles after you heard someone call Jay that at a picnic for police and their families--tight to your chest. The thunder was really loud and you swore it was shaking the house. And, to make matters worse, your dad wasn't here; he had left his seven-year-old daughter alone at home, during a thunderstorm, at 11:30 at night.

Your mom had loved thunderstorms and she'd always watch them as they rolled in. If it was morning, she'd sit and drink her coffee on the front porch while she watched them and listened to the rain drum down on the roof. If it was nighttime, she'd have something called wine, which she told you that you couldn't have until you were older, and do the same thing.

Because of this, every time there was a thunderstorm and your dad wasn't working, he'd always go to the cemetery to visit your mom. You didn't know what he did there. You just knew that every time there was a thunderstorm, you'd just be that much more scared.

Your mom used to comfort you when there was a thunderstorm; she'd tell you that the thunder was just a giant up in the sky bowling and that he just got a strike. But, your dad wouldn't really comfort you because he'd just leave. And, there was only so much Officer Chuckles and huddling in your blankets could do for you.

"We gotta call Jay," you whispered to your bear. "He'll know what to do."

So, you gripped Officer Chuckles in your little hand and then made your way into the kitchen. You jumped as more lightning and thunder cracked across the sky.

You flicked on the light and picked up the phone. You looked at the number on the fridge and carefully dialed it and then hit the "talk" button. Then, you listened to it ring while little whimpers of fear escaped your mouth.

"Dad? Why are you--" You jumped and a small scream came out. "Y/N? Kiddo, what are you doing up? It's late."

"I- I'm scared," you said quickly and ran back to your room with Officer Chuckles and the phone still in your hand and pressed up to your ear.

"Because of the thunder?" Jay asked gently.

"Uh-huh," you answered as you buried yourself back under your covers. "Daddy's not here and-and it's really loud."

"Dad's not there?"

"He went to see Mommy." You squeaked as more thunder came.

Jay cursed on the other end of the phone and hoped you didn't pick up on it. "Y/N, I will be there in ten minutes, okay? I just want you to stay in your room until I get there. Can you do that for me?"

"Uh-huh. But please come fast, Jay Jay. Me and Officer Chuckles are really scared."

"I'll come really, really fast. I promise. Now, I have to put down the phone so I can drive. But I promise I'll get there really fast. I love you."

"I love you, too, Jay Jay."

***

Jay cursed himself as he drove as fast as he could towards his childhood home. He didn't even speed, just tried to go the speed limit. But, it was downpouring so hard that he had to slow down so that he didn't hydroplane and get into a car accident. He didn't need that right now and you definitely didn't need that right now.

Jay walked up the front porch--forgetting his umbrella in his car because he was so focused on getting to you--and then found the spare key under the flower pot. The flower was fake; there's no way your dad could keep a plant alive.

"Y/N?" he called out as he slipped off his shoes once he was inside. "It's me. It's Jay Jay."

Thunder cracked across the sky and Jay swore under his breath and then took off running to your bedroom.

There, he found you huddled underneath your comforter clutching Officer Chuckles to your chest and resting your head against him. Your small night light was the only thing giving off light in your room.

"Y/N," he whispered, causing you to jump. "It's okay, it's just me. It's Jay," he said quickly and then flicked on your bedroom light.

Now that everything was bathed in light, you jumped out of bed without hesitating and held tightly onto Jay. "It's too loud! It's too loud!" you wailed as your fingers clutched the bottom of his shirt.

"I know, I know," he soothed and gently rubbed your back while you continued to cry. "But remember what Mom said? It's just a giant up in the sky bowling."

"Well, he needs to play a quieter game."

Jay laughed at that. "I mean, we could try to tell him that, but I don't think he'd listen since he's way bigger than us." You nodded in agreement. Jay crouched down in front of you, seeing as you had finally let go of him. "Y/N, can you grab me your most favorite backpack?"

"Why?" you asked, tilting your head to the side. "It's nighttime, not school time."

Jay smiled at your innocence. "I know. But, you're gonna come over to my house and we're gonna have a sleepover."

"Like we do on some weekends?"

"Just like that."

More thunder.

You grabbed onto Jay's hand. "You come with me to get my backpack in the living room?"

Jay nodded. "Of course."

Once you were back in your room, Jay started grabbing some clothes for you and you grabbed your favorite blanket and Officer Chuckles. Then, something dawned on you. You were always supposed to tell your daddy if you went somewhere.

"Will Daddy be mad?"

Jay turned away from your dresser and to look at you. "Why would he be mad, kiddo?"

"Because I'm not- I'm not telling him I'm having a sleepover with you."

"Oh, he knows."

"You talked to him?"

"I called him on the way here." Well, he sent him a strongly worded text message, but that was basically the same thing. All he needed to know was that you were coming to his house since you were scared of the storm (not to mention you were seven years old and you shouldn't be home alone in the first place). He hadn't answered the text yet, but at least he'd know where you were.

"Okay. Will you come with me to get my raincoat, too?"

Jay had just finished putting the last of a pair of clothes in your backpack. "I think we can grab that on our way out. Good thinking, kiddo."

He shouldered your little backpack and took your blanket from you so that it wouldn't drag on the wet ground when you walked outside. Then, you put on your rain boots and raincoat at the front door and clutched Officer Chuckles super tight and walked out to Jay's car, and started on your way to his apartment.

***

"Hold my hand when we walk through the parking lot, okay?" Jay said as he pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building.

"Okay."

He put the car in park and then turned it off and got out, quickly opening an umbrella he had stashed in his passenger seat. Then, he made his way over to your side of the car and helped you out and grabbed your backpack, and slung your blanket over his shoulders. You held tight to Officer Chuckles with one hand and held Jay's hand with the other while you two walked into his apartment building, the umbrella Jay was holding with his opposite hand shielding you from the rain.

Once you were inside, you handed Jay your raincoat and he hung it up on the rack because you couldn't reach it.

Jay started digging around in your backpack for the spare pair of pajamas that he had packed for you. "Okay, Y/N, why don't you go put on these nice comfy pajamas--"

"Because mine are kinda wet?" you asked and looked up at your big brother.

"Yes, because yours are kind of wet," Jay confirmed. "And then after, we can go to sleep, okay?"

Thunder cracked again and you jumped.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Jay said and crouched down in front of you. "I promise you nothing bad will happen."

"You promise?"

"I promise," he confirmed with a nod of his head.

You turned to go change your clothes, and then remembered something. "Can I sleep with you tonight?"

"Of course."

After you changed into dry pajamas, you put your dirty ones in your backpack and left the bathroom to see Jay sitting on the couch waiting for you. "Ready for bed?" he asked.

You yawned. "Uh-huh."

Jay glanced at the clock. It was nearing 12:30 am. There was no way you were going to go to school after six and a half hours of sleep. So, he had a plan. And that plan involved iHOP.

Once you got into bed, you tried to fall asleep, but you couldn't. Jay noticed this when you jumped at the thunder. So, he grabbed your little hand in his and squeezed. You then moved closer to him and buried your head in his chest. You knew you were safe from the thunder because your big brother was around and he was big and strong and would protect you from anything. So, you soon fell asleep after, ending your very long night.

***

You rubbed your eyes as you walked out of Jay's bedroom the next morning, Officer Chuckles in your hand dangling by your side.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Jay said.

You looked at the clock. 8:30. "Don't I gotta be at school?" you asked, scrunching up your eyebrows which Jay thought was the cutest thing ever.

"Not until after lunchtime," he told you. "You were up really late, so I wanted to let you sleep. And, so we can go out for breakfast."

"Really? Where?" you asked excitedly, almost dropping Officer Chuckles because you were absolutely buzzing with excitement.

"That is a surprise. Now, how about you go get dressed and brush your teeth and brush your hair, and then we can get going, okay?"

"Okay!"

Then, you scampered off and did just what Jay told you to do. You wanted to know what the surprise would be!

Once you were all done, you and Jay left, and on the ride to the place where you were going for breakfast, you kept asking where you'd be going. But, Jay just wouldn't let up. But, then you saw the big blue sign and knew exactly where you were headed.

"iHOP!" you exclaimed. "Smiley pancakes! Smiley pancakes!" You looked at Jay as he turned into the parking lot. "Can I get the smiley face pancakes? Please, Jay Jay?"

Jay smiled at your excitement. "Yes, you can get the smiley face pancakes."

"Yay!" you cheered.

After breakfast and going back to his apartment to get your school stuff that he had packed in your backpack last night, Jay brought you to school.

When he got back to his apartment, he started making phone calls and cashing in favors.

A month and a half later, Jay officially had guardianship of you.

***

Beach fight (age 14)

"It's so hot," you whined as you walked out of your room in the middle of summer and into the kitchen. You looked at Jay who was drinking coffee out of a mug. "I don't get how you can drink hot coffee. It's too hot out for that."

"You--" Jay took a sip of his coffee.--"are such a drama queen."

"But I'm a queen, so I'll take it."

Jay rolled his eyes. "Wonder where you got the quick comebacks from."

"Just a tall, red-headed doctor. Definitely not you."

"You're funny, kid. Real funny." Jay's phone buzzed. He furrowed his eyebrows. Then it buzzed again and he made eye contact with you and tilted his head to the side. "You texted Will about a beach day? And said that I said it was okay?"

"Uh-huh. You aren't the only Halstead sibling who can be sneaky you know."

"Normally, normally I'd be pissed. But, it's scorching out. So I'll give him a call. Go start getting ready and wear your swimsuit under your clothes so we don't have to change there."

"Yes! Thank you, Jay! Love you!" You gave him a quick hug.

"Yeah, yeah. You never love me more than when you get your way."

Then, you went off to your room to get changed.

***

"Will said he'd be right here," Jay muttered as he looked at his phone for the millionth time in ten minutes. Will and Jay had set up a spot to meet, but Will was running late.

Then, Will's familiar car pulled in and he parked. "Sorry I'm late," he started as he stepped out. "Had to pick up some groceries." He held up the six-pack of beer. "Can't have a beach day without alcohol."

Jay rolled his eyes. "Uh, yes, you can. And both of us are driving home." He turned to you. "Y/N, you're gonna have to make sure each of us only drinks two. I should be fine, but I don't know about him here."

"Hey!" Will exclaimed and then smacked Jay upside the head with his free hand.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your beach chair and your drawstring bag with your towel and your book from Jay's truck. Jay grabbed the cooler, his bag, and his chair. Will grabbed his stuff and then the three of you were off.

***

You had waded in the water and read your book for a bit while Will and Jay chatted about some mutual cases they had come across while drinking their beer and eating snacks. You were snacking on your cheddar popcorn, (which Will had affectionately picked up a bag for you when he went to get beer because he knew it was your favorite) when you realized something: the boys had a drink other than water but you didn't.

You debated which brother would allow you to buy something from the coffee cart up by the entrance to the beach.

Will won.

"Will," you said sweetly and turned around to look at him.

"Uh oh," Jay said. "That's her I want something voice. Don't give in. Be strong."

Will rolled his eyes. "Yes, Y/N?"

"I was thinking--"

"It's worse than I thought!" Jay exclaimed. "She's thinking!"

You scowled at him and turned back to face Will. "I was thinking that since you two have something other than water to drink and I don't, could I maybe get something from the coffee cart? Please?"

"Yeah, sure. Why not?"

"Dude! She's fourteen! She shouldn't be drinking caffeine...especially not at noon!" Jay protested.

"There's this thing called decaf coffee, Jay."

"There's this thing called decaf coffee, Jay," Jay mocked. "Shut up, Will."

Will rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I have to go to the bathroom, so I'll walk up with there with you and just give you money and meet you back there." He looked at Jay. "Are you okay with that? I know you hate when she's out of our sight in super crowded place like this," he asked Jay.

"I do not do that!" Jay argued. You and Will gave him a look. "Fine. Maybe I do. I just see a lot of stuff that I never want her to be involved in. Just, make sure you give Will his change back."

"I will," you said. After all, you were in a swimsuit, not that there were pockets there for you to stash your big brother's change like you normally did and then keep it for yourself.

You and Will made your way up the beach to the entrance where he handed you a ten-dollar bill and you two split up. He went straight to go to the bathrooms and you took a slight right to go to the coffee cart.

Will had said on the walk up not to wait for him and to just go back to Jay. So, you ordered your decaf iced mocha caramel latte, took the four dollars and something cents in change, got your latte, and started to walk back to Jay.

That was, you walked until you heard it.

A catcall.

You pretended you didn't hear it, that it was directed at someone else.

But then, "Babe with the coffee." You stopped walking. "I know you heard me. C'mon, show us that pretty face of yours."

Your eyes widened as you swallowed and your lip started to tremble. You knew you should just make a run for it, but you knew that in running in the sand with your hands full, that you'd just end up face planting and getting a mouth full of sand.

"Aw, c'mon baby. I've got friends, too. You don't like me, maybe you'll like them. We'll like you either way."

You wanted to smack yourself at what came out of your mouth next. You turned around. These guys were probably 23-25 year-olds and there were three of them. They were way taller than you and you knew that they'd easily be able to overpower you. But, you said the first thing that you thought would make them back off.

"I have a boy--". You cleared your throat. "I have a boyfriend."

"I don't see no boy." He turned to one of his friends. "Do you?" The other guy shook his head.

Where the fuck is Will?

"Take my money. Just, leave me alone."

You held the money out to the man, but instead of taking it, he grabbed your wrist instead. Hard.

You dropped your coffee, the plastic cup breaking in the sand and making the cold, sweet liquid form a puddle.

"How cute, boys. She's paying us, normally we'd be paying her!"

From down on the beach, Jay was watching from afar. He saw some guys walking towards you and at first, he assumed that they might've been older siblings of some kids you knew at school or something like that.

Then, he noticed your rigid posture and stood up.

He started walking toward you.

You held your hand out and the guy grabbed your wrist.

Jay started running.

"Just, let me go and we can pretend this never happened," you said, borrowing a line you had seen in movies multiple times...not that it ever worked in those, but maybe it'd work in real life.

"No can--"

"Hey!"

Oh, thank God for Jay.

"You the boyfriend?" he asked rhetorically. "She's gotta be sixteen then. How is she?"

"For your information, I'm the brother. And, it'd be in your best interest to let go," Jay growled.

"Three on one. This should be fun." The guy shrugged.

"Listen, man. I really don't feel like doing this here. So just, let her go."

He tugged you closer to him and you yelped, your front hitting his chest.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

You felt arms wrap around you and pull you away from the random guy's chest and you screamed.

"You son of a bitch!" Jay yelled.

You opened your eyes to see that Will was the one who had run up and pulled you back, your heart still beating out of your chest.

"Jay, he's not--" Will tried, but it was no use.

Jay threw the first punch.

The guy's head flew back and he fell to the ground. The guy tried to throw a punch from there, but Jay easily dodged it. Then, he threw three more hits to his face.

Will turned his head away from the fight at the sound of shitty sirens. "Fucking hell, Jay! Security!"

He didn't stop.

"Jay!" you yelled.

Now, this caused him to stop for a second...right as security pulled up next to him.

Jay looked up.

"He threw the first punch!" the man yelled to security before Jay could even explain the situation in its entirety.

"And you harassed my sister, so I think me punching you was warranted!" Jay argued. He turned to security. "Jay Halstead, CPD detective with the Intelligence unit."

The two beach security guards shared a glance. One sighed. "Okay, to make this easier, we won't call the cops because apparently, he is one. But, both of you are banned from the beach."

"What?" the guy bellowed. "You're not even going to ask him for some identification? Unbelievable!"

"I can easily go grab my badge from my car, officer," Jay suggested.

"That won't be necessary," the security guard said. He turned to you. "Miss, did he hurt you in any way?" You held out your hand to show him your wrist, which was red and you knew you'd have bruising on it tomorrow. Then, he turned his attention back to the guy who had been harassing you and his two friends. "You, come with me. Unless one of your buddies wants to cop to being the one who did the harassing?"

The two other guys held up their hands in a sign of surrender and backed up.

"What?" the guy yelled. "I need medical attention! I probably need stitches!"

"And we can have someone do that for you, but you need to come with us." He pulled out a pair of zip ties and got them on the guy's wrist...not without him giving the security guards some difficulty, though. He turned his attention back to you and your brothers. "I take it back, Detective, you're not banned."

Jay gave him a curt nod of thanks.

"What?" the guy yelled as the security guard started walking, taking the creeper away from you and your brothers.

"Keep it moving, buddy. Keep it moving."

"Let's get outta here," Will suggested.

You and Jay agreed, and then the three of you went to grab your stuff from where it previously was at the beach.

***

You had ridden back home with Will instead of Jay since he needed some time to cool off...and call Voight to make sure that the asshole actually got some jail time or something. Basically, Jay needed Voight to make sure that the beach security was actually doing their job.

The two of you made your way into the apartment (Jay had given Will a key and Will had given Jay a key to his apartment also. You didn't bring your key because you thought you'd be riding home with Jay, but then everything popped off.). Then, Will immediately went into doctor mode.

"Go change into some clothes and then I'm gonna take a look at that wrist," he told you.

You nodded and quickly changed into a pair of comfy shorts and a t-shirt. Then, you made your way to the kitchen table where Will was waiting expectantly. You sat down a sighed.

"You okay?" Will asked as he stopped unzipping his medical bag that he always kept in his car in case of emergencies and gave you his full attention.

"That was terrifying. I just, I never would've thought that would happen."

"And it shouldn't have happened. You're fourteen; you're just a kid. It shouldn't happen to an adult, much less a kid." You nodded. "Can I see your wrist?"

You held it out to him and he gently pressed on it and began to inspect it. "You know," you started, "I thought you'd be patching up Jay. Turns out that ass- that guy's friends didn't want to get involved."

"I wouldn't either," Will agreed. "There's no way I'd want to be one the receiving end of a fistfight with Jay. And, for the record, that guy was an asshole." Then, he started talking about the subject at hand. "Well, good news is that it isn't broken...but we already knew that. Bad news is that there will be some slight bruising, so we need to ice it."

"Okay."

Will got up to get some ice from the freezer when Jay walked in...holding a bag of groceries.

"What's that?" you asked.

"Well, I figured we'd get ice cream after the beach, but since that didn't happen, I decided to pick some up." He set the bag of groceries on the table in front of you and started taking out pints of ice cream. "Superman for Will, Neopolitan for me, and cookies n creme for you."

Your eyes went wide as you saw the ice cream and quickly snatched up your pint. Jay laughed at your excitement.

"Still can't believe that Will's favorite is Superman," you mused.

"He's like a kid in an adult's body," Jay agreed.

"I heard that!" Will yelled and then came back with an ice pack and three spoons. "What can I say, I'm a sugar aficionado. Now, what movie are we watching?"

The three of you made your way over to the couch with your spoons and ice cream, you with your ice pack as well, and started to try and agree on a movie.

Sometimes, you hated that Jay was so vigilant and that Will always had to take a look at something as small as a scrape, but today, those two things definitely came in handy. And, you couldn't be more thankful.

***

Migraine (age 16)

Oh here we go again, you thought as you sat in your American history class and felt the pounding in your head coming on. You had had a slight headache this morning but had a feeling it was going to turn into something more since all of your headaches lately have been turning into migraines almost every other day for the past week. For a few weeks, you'd been having headaches and they started out not too bad, a small dose of Tylenol would fix them. You assumed they were just stress headaches from school. But, then they started making the sides of your head pound and making you sensitive to light or nauseous. And right now, you felt a really bad one coming on.

Forty-five minutes later, you had gotten out of your history class and were on your way to biology. But, you were in the midst of the worst migraine of your life. Your head was pounding, everyone seemed to be talking right in your ear, and the lights were way too bright even when you squinted.

You had to go home. You couldn't stay at school any longer.

So, you went to the office and explained this and then called Jay.

"Hello? Y/N, aren't you supposed to be in class?" he asked when he answered.

"My head hurts really bad, Jay. Please, can you come pick me up?" you asked.

"I can have someone drop off some Tylenol," he suggested.

"No," you whined. "It hurts so bad. The light hurts my head and people talking hurts my head. Please, Jay."

You were practically pleading and even though Jay knew that you had a geometry test today, he agreed.

"Okay, I'll email your math teacher about the test."

"Oh. I forgot about that." You hissed as the late bell rang, causing your head to pound even more for those few seconds.

"That bad, huh?" Jay asked, having heard the bell chime on his end of the phone.

"Uh-huh. But, I can't drive home."

"Okay, and I can't pick you because I'm meeting with a CI. You okay if Adam picks you up and brings you back to the district? Then, me and someone else can go pick up your car from school later?"

"Okay. Why can't I just go home?"

"Because, if you're feeling as crappy as you say you are, then I'd prefer that someone has eyes on you. I'll see you in a bit."

"Okay, bye Jay."

Then, you hung up, told the secretary you'd be leaving so that she could send an email to your teachers, grabbed your stuff from your locker, and came back to the office to wait for Adam.

***

Twenty minutes later, Adam walked into the office.

"Hey, kiddo. I'm gonna sign you out and then we'll get you out of here, okay?" You had balled up your sweatshirt and were using it as a pillow and had your eyes closed. But, you cracked them open and nodded. Adam knew this definitely wasn't you lying to get out of a test because usually, you'd tell him not to call you kiddo, seeing as you were sixteen.

Adm showed his ID to the secretary and then he signed you out. You stood up and your head started pounding even more due to the sudden change in posture.

"Here, I can take your bag," Adam offered and you handed him your backpack.

"Thanks," you said quietly.

Then, you made your way to Adam's Jeep and got in the backseat. Not even two minutes into the trip to the district, you knew you couldn't take the music that was playing from the radio...even though you knew it was lower than he normally played it.

"Adam?" you asked, your head now resting on your balled-up sweatshirt as you tried your best to lay down while still buckled up in the backseat.

"Yeah?"

"Can you turn off the music? It really hurts my head."

"Of course." Then, he quickly turned off the radio and the two of you rode in silence the rest of the way to the district.

Adam would be lying if he said he wasn't worried about you.

***

"Mini Halstead! What's--" Trudy Platt exclaimed when you and Adam walked into the district, but Adam quickly placed a finger to his lips as you whimpered at the loudness of her voice. "Sorry," she whispered. "You hungry?"

You shook your head. "Thanks, though."

The desk sergeant nodded. "Let me know if she needs anything," she directed to Adam.

"Will do, Sarge."

Then, the two of you made your way up the stairs and into Intelligence, not without the buzzer on the gate causing you to hiss at the pain it caused in your temples.

"Mini Halstead!" Kevin exclaimed, but Adam quickly put a finger to his lips as you whimpered at his loud voice.

Jay quickly made his way over to you. "Let's go into the break room, okay?" You nodded. Jay turned to Adam. "I can take her bag."

Jay took your backpack from Adam and then the two of you went into the break room.

"There's some Tylenol and water on the table for you," Jay said, fully expecting you to walk over and get it. But, instead, you just plopped yourself down on the couch. "Or, I can bring it to you."

He gave you the water and the two pills and you took them.

"Have you eaten anything since breakfast?" he asked.

You shook your head. "Hurts to chew."

"Okay." Jay paused for a moment. "I think I have a banana I brought with me in case I got hungry. Is that soft enough for you to chew? I want you to eat something."

"I guess," you mumbled as you laid down on the couch. "Just wanna sleep."

"I know, but I wanna get some calories in you before you do that. Can you just stay awake for like five more minutes?" You nodded. "Okay, I'll be right back."

Jay came back two minutes later with a banana and a blanket.

"Where'd you get the blanket?" you asked.

"I keep it in my truck for late-night stakeouts. Here." He handed you the banana and then set the blanket next to you. "I don't have a pillow, so your sweatshirt will have to do. You all set?"

"Yeah, gonna eat this and take a nap."

"Okay, I'll make sure Voight doesn't yell too much. This door's pretty much soundproof though, so you should be fine. Come get me if you need anything."

"Okay."

Then, you ate the banana, folded up your hoodie and put it under your head, and pulled the blanket over you, quickly falling asleep.

***

You woke up two hours later feeling too warm. Your migraine had subsided into just a headache...but you knew in a couple of hours, the migraine would probably be back after the Tylenol had worn off. And, it was still a decently bad headache, just without the light hurting your eyes as much.

But then, you had an idea.

Sometimes at home when you had headaches, you'd lay your head on the tiled floor of the bathroom because it was cold. Cold surfaces always seemed to help.

So, you looked out into the bullpen to see if anyone was there.

No one.

You picked up your phone to see a text from Jay saying that they had gone on a raid and would be back soon and that if you needed anything, to let Trudy know. He also said that he had let Will know what was going on and that he'd be at the apartment later tonight to check up on you.

You wrapped the blanket around you and then made your way out of the bullpen and into an empty interrogation room.

You sat down in the cold metal chair and held your blanket tighter around your body. Then, you laid your head on the cold metal table and relished the feeling of coolness on your head.

Yeah, this will help.

***

"I didn't do it! I swear!" a drug dealer that Trudy was holding by the arm defended himself while Trudy led him to an interrogation room.

"Not that I don't believe you," she started, "but I've heard that one before."

She walked into the interrogation room and her eyes went wide when she saw you lying with your head on the table, asleep.

"What's a kid doing in here? I don't know her!"

"Shut up," Trudy told him. "Come on."

Then, she pulled him towards the next interrogation room.

"Some officers will be in here soon to have a chat with you. Feel free to make yourself comfortable."

Then, Trudy left the room and closed the door, and made her way into the interrogation room where you were currently sleeping.

She knelt down beside you. "Y/N," she whispered. You didn't stir. She placed a hand on your shoulder. "Kid, wake up."

"Hmmm, no," you said, not even lifting your head up. "Wanna go home. Cold feels good on my  head."

Then, Trudy heard the buzzer to Intelligence go off. "I'll be back," she told you.

"Uh-huh," you said, closing your eyes once again.

Trudy walked into Intelligence and immediately set her sights on Jay.

"Halstead," she barked.

Jay quickly turned his head. "What can I do for you, Sarge?"

"You can explain to me why that sister of yours is currently taking a nap in one of my interrogation rooms because she says the cold feels good on her head and then get her out of there," she told him.

"What?" he asked, more confused than ever.

"Y/N's napping at the table in an interrogation room. I need you to get her out of there. I almost put a dealer in there."

"Why's she in there?"

"Like I just told you: she said the cold feels good on her head. But I need you to get her out of there. Now."

"Copy you, Sarge."

"Good choice, Chuckles, good choice."

Then, Jay made his way to the interrogation room that Trudy told him that you were in.

He squatted down next to you. "Y/N," he whispered.

"Feels good. Leave," you mumbled.

"You know I can't let you stay in here. We gotta get you back out into the break room. It's not safe for you in here."

"Don't care."

Jay huffed. "I know you don't, but I do."

You opened your eyes to see that Jay had turned the lights on all the way...compared to how dim you had them before.

Fuck, it had been a few hours since you had taken the Tylenol and it was wearing off.

You closed your eyes again.

"Y/N," Jay warned.

"Light hurts."

Jay sighed. "Okay, I'll dim the lights and I'll be right back."

Jay dimmed the lights and walked out of the interrogation room and into the bullpen once more.

"Why's she not out yet?" Voight asked.

Jay rummaged around in his desk while he answered. "She said the light hurts her eyes, so I'm giving her these to wear." He held up a pair of sunglasses.

"Huh." Voight paused. "Take her home, Jay. You're done for the day. I don't expect to see you back here until Monday."

"Sarge, all due respect, but it's Wednesday and we're in the middle of a case."

"We'll be fine for one half-finished case without you, Jay. Y/N's family. Take care of her. Just think of it as of tomorrow, you get to have a four-day weekend."

"Can I get one of those four-day weekends?" Adam asked.

"No," Voight answered without skipping a beat. "Go take care of your sister, Halstead."

Jay nodded and then grabbed your backpack from the break room and then returned to his desk for his keys and jacket and then went back to the interrogation room.

"Y/N, we're gonna go home now," he whispered when he walked into the room.

"Yay," you said in a monotone voice and slowly lifted your head up and then rubbed your hands down your face.

"Put these on. They should help with the light."

You took the sunglasses from him and put them on. Then, you two slowly walked out of the room and outside of the district to his truck.

***

"So she's sensitive to light and sound?" Will asked Jay over the phone once Will had gotten off shift and realized his brother had called him concerning your headache.

"Yeah, pretty sure it's a migraine," Jay confirmed.

"She mention anything about nausea?"

"When we were driving home she did."

"Could also be that she started getting motion sick if it only happened in the car. I'll stop over and take a look. She eaten anything?"

"Just breakfast and a banana."

"Jesus, man. It's past five o'clock. She needs more than that!"

"I know, but she said it hurts to chew, so I didn't want to force her."

"Okay, I get it then. I'll pick up some food on my way. I'll get Panera Bread so I can get her some soup. Text me what you want."

"Okay, thanks, man. And Y/N likes--"

"--the cheese broccoli soup. I know, Jay, I know."

"Just checking."

Then, Jay hung up and started to look at the menu and then texted Will what he wanted. Now he just had to wait for Will to come over and hopefully fix you. Because Jay would be lying if he said he wasn't worried about you.

***

"Thanks for coming, man," Jay said as he opened the door. "God, she's making me really worried."

"Whoa, it must be bad if you're admitting you're worried," Will joked and then set the bag of food on the counter.

"Dude, she was napping in an interrogation room because she said the table was cold and it felt good on her head! Damn right I'm worried!"

"Okay, just...get the food out and I'll go check her out. Hopefully, I can figure out what's making her get all these headaches. She mention headaches before now?"

"Yeah, for about the past week, week and a half. But, they've never been this bad. And, if they were, she hasn't told me."

"Okay, thanks. I'll see if she'll tell me more. She's gonna be okay."

Jay nodded and then Will made his way to your bedroom.

He opened the door to see that you were sound asleep with your blinds closed all the way. You had your fan on and had earplugs in, so he assumed that just wanted the fan on for the cool air and not the noise...and the noise was the reason you usually wanted it on.

Gently, Will touched your shoulder.

"Go away, Jay," you mumbled and rolled over to face the wall.

"It's not Jay, it's--" Will sighed when he realized you wouldn't be able to hear him because of the earplugs you had in. So, he settled on shaking your shoulder until you opened your eyes and realized it was him and not Jay.

You took out the earplugs.

"Can you fix it?" you asked. Then, you whimpered. "It hurts so bad."

Your lip started to tremble. You didn't want to cry because you knew it would make your migraine worse, but you couldn't stop the tears; you were so sick of these damn headaches and this migraine.

"When did they start?" Will asked and turned off the fan.

"Three weeks ago," you answered.

"Jay said only a week and a half."

"I didn't tell him. I thought they were from school stress, but they won't go away. Make it stop! Please! I can't- I can't even think straight anymore, Will."

You put your head in your hands and rubbed your temples.

"Have you been eating a lot of different foods? Getting too little sleep? Drinking too much caffeine? Weird periods?"

"No, none of that." You wanted to tell him that it was weird having him ask you about your period, but your head hurt so bad that you refrained.

"Okay, well, I think Jay's got the food ready, so do you think you can manage some cheese broccoli soup from Panera?"

You shrugged. "Maybe a little."

"That's good enough for me. C'mon."

You grabbed a pair of sunglasses from your bedside table next to you and then followed Will out into the hallway and then put the sunglasses on.

"How you doing?" Jay asked as he finished pouring everyone water.

You shrugged. "Still hurts."

"I'm sorry, but the bottle says you can't have anymore Tylenol yet."

You nodded and sat down and slowly started to eat your soup, sunglasses still on.

You started to eat and then realized your soup was kind of cold. You stood up.

"Soup cold?" Jay asked.

You nodded and put it in the microwave.

Then, something clicked in Will's head.

Cold.

Temperature.

"Barometric pressure," Will muttered. Then he looked up, a smile starting to spread across his face. "Barometric pressure," he repeated, this time louder.

"Bara-what-now?" Jay asked.

"It's essentially the air pressure when the weather changes," he explained. "Remember when Y/N was in elementary school and would have really bad allergies in the fall?"

"Yeah," Jay said. "What's this got to do with migraines?"

"Migraines start around adolescence and since she had allergies in the fall before, I'm fairly certain that this is why she's getting them."

"You know why?" you asked as you sat back down, your soup now warm. "Can you make them stop?"

"I think I do. But, we'd have to get you checked out tomorrow."

"Okay. Thank you. Get me an appointment."

A few days later, after lots of naps, soup, and tv when your headache/migraine decided to subside, you were put on corticosteroids for what were called "cluster headaches" in the medical field. You're only supposed to be on them for about two weeks and then you'd have to be reassessed. But, for now, your migraines had subsided and you could finally, finally think clearly.

***

Sorry About your Truck (age 18)

You didn't know what was happening. One second you were driving on the circle of the on-ramp to the highway, and the next, you fishtailed to the right. You spun your wheel to the left, maybe slammed on the brakes (which you knew you weren't supposed to do), and then slid to the right again. It all happened so fast that you didn't even know how it happened.

But, you knew how you got in this position.

"Fuck," you muttered as you put your hand up to the vent in your car the day before you left for school. Even though it was set to defrost, you still should've been able to feel some heat coming out. But you felt nothing. Well, nothing but cold air.

You trudged back inside to see Jay putting on his jacket.

"I think my heat in my car's broken," you said.

Jay looked at you and raised his eyebrows. "You probably just didn't turn it on."

"Yes, I did. And I double-checked. Come see."

So, Jay walked out to your car. And sure enough, your heat was broken.

"I'll drop you off at school and then we'll bring the car to the shop tonight. C'mon," Jay told you.

"I have to work tomorrow until 11," you said. "How am I supposed to go to work?"

Jay sighed. "I'll figure it out."

Because, he knew for a fact he couldn't let you drive without heat...not in these Chicago winters.

***

"Jay, man, you gotta go to sleep," Will told his younger brother.

"Dude, it's getting icy out!" Jay argued over the phone. "I'm staying awake until she gets home!"

Will sighed. "Fine. I know there's no changing your mind."

"Thank you. Now, I'm gonna see if I can find a hockey game happening on the west coast and watch that. I'll text you when she gets home."

"I don't need you to do that, but if it makes you feel better, feel free. God, you need to make your cop instincts chill for once."

***

You screamed. You didn't know what to do. One second you swerved to the left and then you swerved to the right. You tried to correct yourself again and get back on the road, but it wasn't working...not like it worked last time when you tried to go back the opposite way anyway. But, now, oh now you were more terrified than before...if that was even possible.

You felt hot tears sting your eyes as you heard the sounds of metal ripping through metal. Then, you felt yourself tumbling. You didn't know if you were screaming at this point, but you felt your knee jam into the dashboard and the next thing you knew, you were upside down with only your seatbelt keeping you in place and the broken glass from the windows had left a smattering of cuts along your body, with the deepest one being on your forehead.

You kept flailing your arms, trying to do something, anything to get you out. And then you heard the sound of sirens and the snow around you started turning blue.

Great...you had found the button to turn on Jay's sirens. Just great.

"Help!" you yelled.

You hoped that someone would call 911....but according to these sirens, you were 911.

***

"Squad 3, Ambulance 61, Truck 81, Engine 51, Battalion 25. Single vehicle car accident. Person trapped."

"Single vehicle?" Casey asked. "Why do they need all of us?"

"Beats me," Severide said. "But we're about to find out."

***

"A cop car?" Kelly asked as he furrowed his eyebrows on the way to the scene.

"Guess so, Lieutenant," Cruz said. "Looks like an undercover car to me, too."

As they got closer, Kelly noticed something. He knew that truck.

"Casey," he said into his radio, "that look like Jay Halstead's truck to you?"

Casey tilted his head. "You know, it actually does. Dispatch," he started, "this is Truck 81 to Main, can you get in contact with the 21st District and see if Jay Halstead is on duty tonight and then get back to us?"

"Copy that Truck 81."

They all pulled up to the scene and Boden started directing everyone.

"Squad, we need to get that victim out. Truck, help Squad with figuring out how to get the victim out. Chances are we'll have to cut the car and need all hands on deck. Engine, I need you on standby in case there's a gas leak and a fire starts. Sixty-One, do all you can."

They all said their "copy that's" in some form or another and then Casey, Stella, and all of Squad 3 went over to look at the truck.

"Help!" you yelled. "Somebody help me, please!" At this point, the blood from your forehead was dripping all over the roof of the truck. At least, since you were upside down, the blood wasn't going into your eyes. But, tears were rolling down your cheeks. You were terrified and your knee was in so much pain from being crushed up against the dash and your head was starting to burn where you had been cut by the glass.

"Main to Truck 81, Jay Halstead is not on duty tonight according to the 21st."

"It's not Halstead!" Casey yelled. "He's not on duty!"

They all raced up to the truck.

"I'm gonna climb up to the window and see how the victim's doing. I'll tell you what we need from there," Kelly said.

Then, with the help of Cruz and Capp, he got on top of the rolled-over vehicle.

"Help! Please help me!" you yelled.

"We're gonna get you out, don't worry!" Kelly yelled once he was close enough that he knew you'd be able to hear him.

You knew that voice.

Kelly looked down into the truck to see you straining your neck to look out the broken window and up to him.

"Don't move!" he ordered. He had no idea whether or not you had sustained injuries to your spinal cord.

"O- Okay," you whimpered. "I'm scared, Kelly."

"I know, I know. But we're gonna get you out of here. It'll all be okay." He turned his head so that it was back facing Squad, Casey, and Stella. "Casey!" he yelled. "I need you to tell Boden to get in touch with one of the Halsteads! It's Y/N!"

***

"Hello?" Jay asked sleepily into his phone. He had finally taken Will's advice and had tried to go to sleep...with a Vegas Golden Knights vs. Colorado Avalanche game playing in the background since that was the NHL game that was happening on the west coast right now.

"Halstead, it's Wallace Boden. Are you aware that your sister was driving your truck?"

At this, Jay sat up straight, sleep be damned. "She was. Why? What happened? Is she okay?"

He stood up and started pacing the room.

"Jay, I'm going to tell you the location and I need you to call Will and you both need to get here ASAP."

"Chief, all due respect, but you need to tell me what's going on."

"Y/N's been in a car accident. It's a roll-over crash. She's currently stuck in the car but conscious."

Everything Jay learned about bad news from your mom and dad passing, to his time in the military, to him being a cop flew out the window in that very moment.

"She's been in a crash? Can they get her out? Tell me they're gonna get her out, Chief! They have to!"

"Jay, my men are doing everything they can. But right now, you need to call your brother and you need to get to this location as fast as possible."

"Okay, yeah, yeah. I can do that."

Then, Jay quickly hung up.

After calling Will four times in a row, he finally picked up.

"Dude, I'm about to be in surgery, what's--"

"Y/N's been in a car accident. We need to go there now."

Will almost dropped his phone.

"What? How? When?"

"I don't know, all I know is that Boden called me and told me to get to the scene ASAP. I'll pick you up on  the way."

Then, without waiting for Will's response, Jay hung up the phone and dialed a number he never thought he'd be calling off duty: his new partner, Hailey Upton.

"Hailey, it's Jay. I need a favor."

***

"Capp!" Kelly yelled. "We need to cut through the seat to get it off from the floor because that's currently the ceiling! Squad and 81, we need to cut the back of the truck so we can get her out of here! 51, figure out how to kill these sirens! And, Brett, I need you to come up here and take a look so you can tell me the best way to get her out of here!"

Sylvie Brett started sprinting over to the truck with her jump bag and then Casey and Cruz helped her onto the truck and Kelly gave her his hand to make sure she got all the way up there safely.

"Y/N, I'm Sylvie. Do you remember me?" she asked calmly.

"Uh-huh," you answered, trying your best not to move your head like had Kelly told you.

"I bet your leg hurts really bad, huh?"

"Not, not really," you answered.

Sylvie and Kelly shared a look. They knew what this was: you were going into shock.

"Hand me that flashlight," Sylvie said to Kelly. He handed it to her. "Yeah, she's tensing her leg muscles, which is probably why she can't feel it. She's still having an adrenaline rush since she seems to unconsciously tensing them. We'll still give her pain meds as soon as we can because when the pain wears off, it's gonna hurt.

"For now, I need to get a C-collar on her and when she gets out, I need her on a backboard and I need that leg in a splint. Try your best not to do any sudden movements that can hurt her leg even more than it already is. By the looks of it, I'm assuming she shattered her knee cap."

"Got the bolt cutters, Severide!" Capp yelled.

"Got the saw, too!" Casey yelled. "I think we should start by cutting the end of the truck, sound good?"

"Yeah, that works!" He took off his turnout coat and handed it to Brett. "Get in there, get a C-collar on her, and cover her with this while we cut the end of the truck. Close your eyes and cover your head with your jacket. Yell to me when you're ready."

"Why aren't you going in there?" Sylvie asked as she positioned herself to jump through the window and down into the truck.

"I don't think I could fit through that window."

"You never know," Sylvie said and then slipped down and into the truck.

"They're gonna cut it?" you asked frantically. "But what if they hurt me?"

"Y/N, it's okay. They won't hurt you. They're professionals. They've done this hundreds of times. But, I need you to stay calm for me. I'm gonna put this C-collar around your neck and cover you with this coat so that debris doesn't get in your eyes." She didn't mention the cut on your forehead and at the moment, she hoped you weren't feeling it.

Sylvie got the C-collar around your neck to stabilize it and then she put the turnout coat over you and pulled hers over her head. "Ready!" she yelled to Kelly.

You started hearing the sound of metal being cut. You could feel your heart pounding out of your chest, but at the same time, you couldn't feel anything at all.

***

"There it is!" Jay pointed from the passenger seat of Hailey's car. The hospital had been on their way to the scene, so they grabbed Will on the way. Jay was thankful because he knew that the hospital would be close if you needed to go there.

Will was practically standing up in the backseat so that he could jump out of the car as quickly as possible. He needed to make sure you were okay.

Hailey had barely put the car in park when both Halsteads jumped out.

"Chief!" Jay yelled. "Where is she?"

"She's still in the car. They're trying--"

"They're trying?" Jay yelled angrily, cutting Chief Boden off. "If she's not out yet and it's been this long then they sure as hell aren't trying! I swear to God if--"

"Jay!" Will yelled and stepped in front of him and gave him a shove to push him away from Boden. "You need to calm down!"

"Calm down? Don't tell me to fucking calm down! Our sister's in a roll-over crash and you're telling me to calm down?"

"I understand you're upset," Boden started, "but you two shouldn't even be here right now. And, if you don't want to be pushed back behind the yellow tape, I suggest you calm down."

Jay glared at Boden but kept his mouth shut.

Jay started walking away and then locked eyes with Stella. He picked up his pace. Will tried to pull him back because he had a feeling he knew what he was going to do, but he was too late.

"Stella!" he yelled. "What's happening? You gotta tell me what's going on in there. Please."

Stella sighed. She knew she shouldn't be doing this. But, she knew if it was anyone in her family, hell if it was Kelly or anyone else in Firehouse 51, she'd want to know what was going on, too.

"She's upside down, hanging from her seat. Her knee's jammed up against the dash. She's still conscious, but they have to get her out."

There was a loud creaking sound that caused everyone to turn their attention back to the scene.

They had sawed through the back half of the truck and were now going in.

"Casey, Kelly," Stella said into her radio, "can I get an update on the situation? Jay and Will are here and they just want to know."

"We just gotta get the chair down, Kidd," Casey's voice came from her radio. "She's still conscious. She's scared, but she should get out fine."

Jay looked up at the sky while Will sighed in relief.

You'd be getting out of there just fine.

***

The next few hours were a blur of you getting out of the truck and being taken by ambulance to Chicago Med (Will rode with you because of Jay's fear of needles), and you being in knee surgery.

Jay and Will had to wait outside while you were in surgery. And they were beside themselves.

"God, I shouldn't have let her take my truck," Jay vented as he was pacing the waiting area with his hands on his head.

"You couldn't have known it was gonna snow like this. It wasn't supposed to snow like this," Will comforted.

"How do you do it?" Jay asked.

Will furrowed his eyebrows. "Do what?"

"Stay so calm? Like, when we were at the scene, you were so calm when I was absolutely losing it."

"I don't know, I really don't. Maybe I realized that being pissed wasn't going to help anyone. But, when I heard Stella and Casey tell us what was going on, I knew she was going to be okay. There were no injuries to the abdomen, chest, or head--well, except for that laceration on her forehead--and she was conscious. I just knew."

"So you're telling me, you thought logically with medical knowledge?" Jay asked. He had absolutely no idea such a sophisticated sentence would ever make its way out of his mouth, but hey, there was a time and place for everything.

"That and I knew you'd be pissed, so I knew I'd have to at least be calm enough to calm you down...or hold you back."

"There it is."

***

You woke up an hour later. You blinked, trying to remember what happened, and then it all came rushing back. The fishtailing...the screaming...Kelly talking to you...the sound of metal being cut...

You took a deep breath.

This alerted your brothers that you were awake.

"Hey, how was being under?" Will asked jokingly. You had always asked what it felt like to be under anesthesia and Will said he couldn't really explain it; he said you'd just have to find out some time.

"It was a nice nap," you answered.

Will laughed. "I bet it was. Feeling better?"

"Tired," you yawned.

"Well, it is just past four in the morning, so that makes sense."

You looked at Jay. "I'm sorry about your truck. I was just going down the exit ramp and it happened so fast and--"

"Hey, hey," Jay said quickly and stood up. "It's okay. It's just a truck, it's replaceable; you, kiddo, are not."

Will smiled. "Borrowing a line from Mom's book when we both inevitably got in our first car accidents, I see."

Your finger started to move toward the stitches on your forehead.

"No, no, no," Will said quickly. "Don't touch them!"

You kept running your finger over them. "But they feel funny."

"That's because you haven't gotten them before. They'll feel even funnier if you pop one and me or someone else has to redo them."

Your stomach grumbled.

"Okay, what do you want to eat?" Will asked. He handed you a cup of water, too because he figured that if you were hungry, that you'd be thirsty as well.

You took a few sips and then answered. "Olive Garden."

Jay laughed. "Olive Garden isn't open at four am."

You pursed your lips to the side, thinking about what you wanted. "Pizza."

"I'll go have someone grab you some," Will said.

"Maybe send Adam because he can just call the cafeteria lady darlin' and then just like that,--" Jay snapped his fingers---, "she'll get an extra piece for free," Jay suggested.

"Adam's here?" you asked.

"Everyone's here," Jay answered. "They all wanted to make sure that you were okay...and the 21st also got called to see if I was on duty since it was my truck."

"If it makes you guys feel any better, I don't think I'll be driving for a while."

"That's okay. Voight gave me a few weeks off to look after you while you're recovering and I think Goodwin's letting Will cut down his hours."

"What he means Y/N, is that you'll be stuck with us telling you not to try to walk for a few weeks," Will said.

"Uh," you groaned.

Will and Jay both laughed. "I'm gonna go see if Adam can get you that pizza," Will said. He was almost out the door when he added, "you better not touch your stitches while I'm gone."

The next few weeks was a blur of doing all your schoolwork at home--and a lot of times, from the couch--, Jay and Will scolding you if you so much as tried to bend your leg, lots of movies and tv shows (and Jay and Will always let you pick because you couldn't really do much while you were laid up at home), and convincing Jay to buy you lots of Oreos and cheddar popcorn. And if he didn't...well, you'd just text Will (luckily you had insurance on your phone and could get a new one without paying a lot after the crash) and he'd bring you your Oreos and cheddar popcorn. After the first two weeks, Jay just had to live with the fact that he was outnumbered when it came to you and your favorite snacks.

***

Rough Shift (age 21)

Trigger warning for mentions of suicidal ideation!

You sat at Molly's finishing up your second pomegranate martini...and it was only 6 pm. You waved Stella over to have her make you another one.

"Y/N, I know you drove here. I can't in good conscience give you another drink. Hell, I didn't even want to give you the last one! But, I can get you a pop if you want? Or lemonade?"

"Stella," you whined. "I just want another drink. It's been a really rough day at work. Please, just make me another one."

"You know I can't do that. What happened at work? Maybe it'll help to talk about it. We've all had rough shifts before and talking about it or crying it out usually helps."

"I can't really cry it out right in the middle of a bar." You took a shaky breath. "Even though, I really wish I could." Tears started to sting your eyes. You couldn't cry. Not here. "I think I'm gonna go have that cry." You set some money on the bar. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. And hey, if you ever need someone to talk to, Y/N, I'm your girl."

"Thanks, Stella."

Then, you left Molly's. But, you didn't go straight home. You decided to go to the store instead. And all you bought there was a bottle of peach Moscato.

Time to get buzzed enough to forget for the time being.

***

When you got home, you popped some food in the microwave since you hadn't eaten since basically breakfast save for some beef jerky and an apple, and unscrewed the cap to the wine you had just bought. Normally, you wouldn't buy a ton of alcohol for yourself because you'd just take Jay or Hailey's drinks if she brought any over (yes, you still lived with Jay because college is ridiculously expensive and you were trying to get out of school with as little debt as possible...if any), but those two were on a camping trip on Lake Michigan for the weekend. You were supposed to go, but then you had to work. So, Will ended up going instead. He said maybe he'd meet a girl up there and you just laughed.

You took a few sips of your wine and then realized that maybe you should call your brothers. You knew this wasn't healthy and you felt like everything was coming down on you at once: the stories you heard at work, being in the hospital, currently just being physically and emotionally exhausted and hungry.

So, you dialed Jay's number.

"Hey, Y/N, what's up?" he asked. He put the phone on speaker so he could finish adding wood to the campfire he was building for him, Hailey, and Will to roast hot dogs over.

"It's just, it's been a really bad day," you said, your voice cracking.

Will was near him and he looked at Jay worriedly.

"Why's that?" Jay asked.

"I- I had to go the hospital with a girl because she- because she said she was going to kill herself." Tears were currently rolling down your cheeks. You had kept it together all day and now you were crumbling.

Working in a group home you knew things like this were bound to happen, but you didn't know they'd happen in your first two months there. And, to make matters worse, you got the email when you were driving into work, so you really had no idea what was going on. When you got to work, you were told you had to go to Lakeshore Memorial Hospital because a girl was saying she was going to kill herself the night before. And, you didn't have the staff to get her back inside safely, so, as is protocol, the shift lead the shift before yours had to call emergency services to take her to the hospital. You didn't know about any of this until you got to work when you were debriefed and then told you'd have to go to the hospital.

God, you knew this happened but nothing prepared you for sitting in that dark room with her all shift, the monitors beeping, telling you that she was still alive. You had done some homework and you had talked with her, gotten more information about why she did it. You had read her file, but she really seemed to open up to you and told you more. And, what broke your heart the most was that, since she was in a group home, she had no family. So, you did your best to sit with her the entire shift, only leaving to go to the bathroom, get some water, or make a phone call to your shift lead. Because, even if you were doing homework and she was sleeping or just sitting in silence, you knew it helped to have someone there with you. And, you knew if it was you in that position, you'd want someone to be there with you.

"Are you okay?" Jay asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

"No," you admitted. "I don't want to be alone."

Jay sighed. There was nothing he could really do for you at this point. "Y/N--"

"I'll grab my stuff and I'll be there in an hour and half, Y/N," Will interjected.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to leave. I don't want to be alone, but I don't want you wasting your weekend off--"

"Y/N," Will began, "it's fine. I'll see you soon."

***

Will walked inside carrying a bag of McDonald's.

He walked into the living room to see you sipping wine out of the bottle. You weren't even halfway through it yet. You were just a little buzzed because you had drank the martinis a couple of hours ago. So, now you needed to get more buzzed to forget about your horrible shift. Normally you never did this: drink to forget. But today, well today, you deemed it warranted.

"Y/N, at least pour it in a glass," Will sighed and then sat down next to you and set the bag of food on the coffee table in front of you.

"Why's it matter? I'm the only one who drinks Moscato; you and Jay say it's too sweet."

"Yeah, but I don't want you to drink too much."

"But I just wanna forget what happened, Will," you said as you turned to face him. You started to cry. "She's just a kid. She shouldn't be going through this. Hell, she shouldn't have gone through what happened to her in her past! She didn't deserve it!"

Will wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug while you cried. He knew because of confidentiality reasons that you couldn't tell him any more than you had just told him and what you mentioned on the phone.

"I know, I know," he soothed.

"I know she didn't- she didn't die," you cried. "But, God, it feels like I got my first death."

"And, crying about it is nothing to be ashamed of," Will said. "When I had my first patient death, I went home and did exactly what you did: cried and drank until I couldn't think straight, much less think about what happened at work."

You pulled away. You didn't think Will ever cried over something that happened at work. "You did?"

"Hand to God, I did."

"How do you cope with this stuff all the time?"

"You do the best you can with the knowledge you have. You talk to somebody about how you're feeling and you don't drown yourself in drinking, drugs, or sex." He moved your bottle of wine. "You cope in healthy ways. And, sooner or later, you realize that you can't save everybody. And, that you can't change the past.

"You can't change what happened in this girl's past to make her end up in a group home or have these intrusive thoughts, but you can help change her future by being there for her and listening to her, and helping her get to a better place."

"That's what I want to do."

"Good, then you're in the right place to do that. You just have to focus on your wins and not your losses."

You pulled away and wiped your hands across your face to get rid of the tears. "Thank you for coming home. I, uh, I really needed that."

Will nodded. "You're welcome. I wished someone would've told me that earlier in medical school and I didn't want you to feel like I felt."

"Is that why you decided to come home and not Jay?"

"Part of the reason."

You raised an eyebrow. "And the other part?"

"I figured Jay and Hailey could use a night all to themselves."

"Gross!" You faked gagged and Will laughed.

"I don't know if you'll be able to eat now that I mentioned that, but how about we try and we can watch a funny movie?"

"I like that idea."

And, even though you really wanted to get buzzed to forget about the day you had, you knew it was better for you to talk about it with Will and eat takeout and watch a movie with him. And, you were pretty sure you felt better after that than you would if you drank an entire bottle of wine by yourself.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading! Sorry this one took so long, but I'm in school and working, so updates won't be as frequent as they were in the summer. And finally, please remember to like/reblog and comment! I love reading your comments! As always, if you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’ll add you!

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch @liampayne88

[1kook]

new parent syndrome

— kim namjoon x (f) reader

SUMMARY You love Namjoon, honest. But you love your daughter Hyejoo even more— it’s not a controversial sentiment when you know he’s the same way! —and going back to a regular adult life sans kids absolutely sucks. (Or so you thought.) WARNINGS dilf!joon, dreamy husband joon, loving parents au, jimin is also a dad, bathtub sexy times, exhibitionism 😳 kinda sorta, tiny praise kink, joon calls her wifey TT, fingering, cunninglingus, doggy style, it’s kinda cheesy n romantic /.\, unprotected sex, …. impreg kink RATINGS m (18+) WC 9.5k 

NOTES writing parent fics is harder than i thought :/ i had this idea last week n was like yes, lets write this fic that absolutely no one asked for... except me! <3 so here we are, fantasizing about dreamy dad joon.... as always i have to thank rumu ( @kigurumu​ ) who is kind enough to edit these n b like that don't make no sense -_- anyway lemme know what u think !! enjoy !!

No matter how hard you try, the letter f refuses to fit itself into Hyejoo’s phonemic understanding. She’s a growing toddler so it’s only normal that there are sounds she still can’t pronounce, words she doesn’t quite get. But her inability to say food or family or friends, which are undoubtedly the three most important things in her three year-old world right now, is definitely a setback you didn’t see coming. 

Your worrywart husband has taken matters into his own hands, using the power of Google and about twelve parenting books to create an extensive, one-hour-a-day, mini lesson to try and increase her pronunciation skills. Of course, Hyejoo already attends daycare in the mornings while you and Namjoon are off at work, and gets sufficient learning done there. So she can’t exactly sit through Joon’s lectures, no matter how pretty he tries to decorate her flashcards. She’s still tiny— she’s still your baby, and you want her to enjoy the last of her daycare years before you’re forced to submit her to the worst twelve years of her life (also known as compulsory education). 

But as you’ve mentioned before, Namjoon doesn’t quite feel the same way. 

“She can’t sound out the letter,” he mopes in bed that night. He’s laying down beside you, face smushed against your thigh. The lamp on your side of the bed is the only thing on, casting a faint golden hue on his cheeks.

This conversation has occurred a variety of times these past few weeks, and you’ve just about ran out of every comforting reassurance possible. You settle on stroking a hand through his hair. There are emails to respond to and clients to check in with, but there’s also a huffy husband in bed beside you who quite pitifully crawls up into your arms. 

It’s with his face between your boobs that he speaks again. “What if she’s getting made fun of at school? Or her teachers think she’s dumb?” You roll your eyes. “My baby is not dumb, __,” he says, as if you don’t know. “Her IQ came back above average when I took her to the development specialist that one time, remember?” You have half the mind to tell him an IQ test on a three year old isn’t exactly valid, but there’s already enough stacked on his plate. Finding out he wasted a hundred bucks for an invalid test would just be the cherry on top of all his worries. 

Water clings to the very tips of his hair, remnants of his bath with Hyejoo. Namjoon is getting older now, nothing like the dashing grad student you had met what feels like a lifetime ago. There’s bags under his eyes, bags that surpass any all-nighter-pulling college student’s, induced by none other than the sheer power of becoming a parent. And still, he retains his beauty, looks like a doll with his skin so dewy from his skincare routine, lips puffy and red and kissable. 

He looks up, and you take the opportunity to place a kiss on his lips, his familiar scent making you melt into his arms. When he pulls away, there’s still a subtle furrow between his brows. 

“Hyejoo is fine,” you reassure him, carding his brown hair out of his face. He leans into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Our girl is the smartest three year-old out there,” you huff, feeling the slightest bit annoyed that he could even insinuate otherwise. “And if she was having problems at school, you know I would be the first one in there, fighting all the other moms.” 

Namjoon relents, face falling back into its haven between your tits. “Okay,” he mumbles, muffled from the way his plush lips drag against the soft skin over your sternum. 

The subject of Namjoon’s worries is in the other room sound asleep, not the least bit concerned with measly letters and sounds. It’s really only Namjoon who is, his stack of letter flashcards glaring at you from on top of the dresser. “Your mother hen is showing,” you tease as he slips beneath the covers, leaning over you to flick off your lamp. Just like everything else in your house, his t-shirt smells like him. It’s a natural, woodsy scent that floods your nostrils and makes your toes curl when he comes so close. 

Namjoon snorts as he settles beside you, beefy arm pillowing your head as he pulls you close. “I’m not a mother hen,” he says, hand on your waist, the tantalizing expanse of his neck before your eyes. “I’m the rooster— the cock,” he snickers, and you reward his terrible attempt at a joke with a pinch to his side that has him retreating to the other end of the bed. 

Hyejoo’s best friend in the entire world— or, as she says, her best pren in the entire world —is none other than Park Yerin from daycare. As the universe would have it, Park Yerin is also the one and only daughter of your college philosophy seat neighbor, Park Jimin. 

Crossing paths with him later down the road was not something you could ever anticipate, especially when you and Jimin were never that close in college to begin with. It was the only class you had with him in all four years, one where you had quietly acknowledged his charisma and occasionally shared homework answers, before never speaking to him again. You could have greeted him on campus, as you often crossed paths. But Park Jimin was a walking friendship magnet who seemed to bring with him a parade of followers everywhere he went, and approaching him required three layers of strategic planning if you wanted to catch him alone. 

So bumping into him at the entrance of Hyejoo’s daycare six years later comes as a bit of a shock. You had never pegged him as the type to settle down so quickly— you don’t mean to label him, but there were certain college stereotypes that he fit like a glove —but there he was, carrying the tiny love of his life who’s currently dressed in a bright pink Minnie Mouse dress. 

Unsurprisingly, just like her father, Park Yerin has the same enthralling personality that makes everyone in the three to four year-old daycare class want to be her friend, and your sweet little Hyejoo is not exempt. 

Long story short, out of all the kids at Sunny Side Daycare, Yerin is Hyejoo’s favorite, and Hyejoo is Yerin’s favorite. 

So now it’s been a little over a year since the two girls have established their friendship, which means it’s been a little over a year of acquainting yourself with Jimin again. He’s a house husband, something you never expected, and he loves his daughter like no other. Some afternoons after daycare are spent with Jimin and Yerin at the nearest coffee shop, watching the girls haphazardly scribble over every piece of paper they can get their hands on while the two of you catch up. 

Overall, you’re happy Hyejoo can have a friend like Yerin, and secretly, you're also happy you can finally befriend a fellow parent as nice and put together as Jimin. On top of that, Namjoon’s liked him on the few occasions he’s met him; the two have even gone out for drinks. 

However, befriending Jimin and Yerin comes at a cost, and that cost is seeing your little girl grow up.  

It’s your turn to mope. 

“Yerin asked her to sleepover,” you groan, sadly patting in your skincare routine the next night. Namjoon is somewhere behind you, his naked back glaring at you through the reflection of your vanity mirror. He’s so broad and big, sleep shorts clinging to his waist as he lotions up his body post-shower. There’s a thin gold chain around his neck that glints everytime he moves around, biceps flexing and bulging in plain view until he finally slips his shirt on. There was a time in your life where his back could not go more than two days unscathed, your rabid (read: horny) claw marks painting rosy trails down his spine. These days, you can barely remember the last time he’s held your hand. 

“Who?” he asks once he’s settled beneath the covers with whatever book he’s reading now and his thick-rimmed reading glasses. 

“Who else,” you say, tugging your night robe closer to your chest as if it’ll prevent your heart from breaking anymore than it already was. “Hyejoo’s first sleepover,” you sigh. 

You take it harder than you imagined. In the back of your mind, you’ve always known your little girl was growing up— hello, you were literally watching her grow more and more inches every single day —but you had convinced yourself she would stay your baby for a little while longer. As much as you wanted her to see and learn about the world, you selfishly wanted to keep her home too. She was your baby, your only one at that.

At least Namjoon feels the same way. “Absolutely not,” he squawks, abruptly slamming his book shut. He’s usually really meticulous about lining up his fancy bookmark right on the line he left off on, so his sudden carelessness tells you all you need to know about how he feels. 

You sit down beside him, hand over his. “It’s Yerin’s birthday,” you inform him in what you hope is a comforting tone; unbeknownst to him, you’re trying to reassure yourself as well. “And Jimin said he and his wife are gonna be there the whole night.” You trust Jimin, you really do. If there’s anyone who’s more in love with their kid than you and Namjoon, it’s Jimin. He would never let anything happen to his Yerin, and by extension, he would never let anything happen to your Hyejoo. He’s a good dad. 

Namjoon rubs at his eyes. In the span of two minutes, he’s aged about five years. “No,” he sighs softly, squeezing your hand tightly. “Once she starts going to sleepovers she’ll start wearing makeup and getting into relationships and having her heart broken—“ 

A kiss is enough to silence him when he gets like this, his warm breath fanning across your bottom lip when you pull away. “She just wants to wear tutus and sing Baby Shark right now,” you murmur, hand creeping up over his chest. His heart is beating fast as hell beneath his t-shirt, feels like it’ll burst straight out of his chest if you don’t calm him down. 

He’s the bigger worrier out of the two of you, has a classic case of paranoid parent syndrome. 

It’s no secret that Namjoon has a big brain; he’s an educated man with a respectable job. For every problem he encounters, he can procure a variety of solutions with different approaches. He’s always prepared and part of you thinks he’s a huge reason you managed to survive those first few weeks as a mom. Unlike you, who had attended a whopping two mommy classes in preparation for your upcoming child, Namjoon had studied up on parenting. A lot. He had read books and reviewed scientific studies, had learned about development on the chemistry level and the social level, did all he could until he was confident in his own dad abilities. 

But, for every solution Namjoon can find, there are always twenty-eight other factors to worry about. 

“What if she has an allergic reaction and Jimin doesn’t know what to do,” he pales, death grip on your hand. His matching wedding band digs into your skin and you have to wrestle his hand away before he accidentally breaks your finger. He nearly broke your neck once when you were in college, had almost sent you to the ER mid-thrust because he had underestimated his own strength while trying to choke you.

“Hyejoo doesn’t have any allergies,” you remind him, giving up on your awkward half-seated position as you clamber over him. His thighs are full beneath you, tense up as you move over him and he manhandles you into his chest. 

He’s not done. “What if she asks Jimin for a fizzy drink and he can’t understand her?” His eyes are owlish beneath his glasses, covered in what you can only describe as a visible sheen of absolute terror. “What if he thinks she’s saying ‘pissy’ not ‘fizzy,’ __— what then?” It’s amazing, really, how a man who graduated cum laude can hypothesize this many disasters pertaining to a four year-old’s sleepover. 

In the other room, Hyejoo calls for you, so you gladly take the opportunity to remove yourself from Namjoon and his spiraling thoughts. “Look,” you say, tightening the sash of your robe as you get back up. “I’m gonna go tell her that she can go to Yerin’s sleepover tomorrow,” you tell him, giving him exactly three seconds to groan dramatically, before continuing, “and you figure out how to turn that big brain off by the time I come back.” 

Luckily, the cause of Hyejoo’s sudden wake up is a tiny bug bite she got from playing outside that just won’t stop itching. “Mommy, it hurts,” she whines, digging her nails into the tiny red mark by her knee. 

“Uh huh, lemme see,” you order, turning on her bedside lamp to illuminate the space. Her room is the prettiest shade of yellow, fitting for a ball of sunshine such as herself. “Were you playing by the flowerbeds?” You ask, running a finger over the mark a little too weird looking to simply be another mosquito bite. 

She knows she’s not supposed to play near the flowers— the bugs like her a little too much. It’s with a hesitant little nod that she confesses to it. You give her a pointed look. “You’re not supposed to play too close to the flowers,” you remind her, a tiny scolding for now. 

With a sniffle she responds, “not by the plowers.” 

A little bit of anti-itch cream has her settling, and by the time you return to your bedroom, Namjoon is out cold. 

“How old is Yerin turning?” Namjoon asks her at the door, heartbreak clearly painting his features as you help Hyejoo into her shoes. 

“Pour,” she beams, her tiny hand held up to show four stubby fingers. She has Namjoon’s pretty smile, an honest look in her eyes that makes you want to put her in your pocket and never let her go. Alas, Yerin’s sleepover party starts at five and Hyejoo has been trying to leave since noon. 

“Pour,” Namjoon repeats, shooting you a pointed look as if to say see. He had fought the decision up until the end, had even tried to tactically convince your daughter to stay home by getting a head start on preparing her favorite food. And well. She said no. So now the two of you are stuck having dinosaur chicken nuggets for dinner without her. 

She’s got her little travel bag on now, tiny feet stuffed into her ladybug rain boots because it had rained last night and she’s awfully addicted to jumping in muddy puddles. She’s absolutely adorable, your little girl, and you think Namjoon might’ve let out a tiny sob earlier. (Or maybe it was you.)

Namjoon joins you at the front door. “Be good,” he warns her. His eyes are suspiciously wet, but you don’t say anything because yours are too. You’re both crouched in front of her, her big eyes glancing back and forth between the two of you without a care in the world. Mixing your self-assured personality with Namjoon’s (mostly) composed attitude was quite possibly the worst genetic crossover to ever happen; Hyejoo doesn’t even seem remotely bothered by the fact she’s spending her first night away from home. Meanwhile, you and Namjoon are on the verge of a joint breakdown. 

Anyway, Namjoon gives in first. “Love you forever, princess,” he tells her, their ritual expression, and kisses her forehead. 

She accepts it and then, in an unexpected turn of events, surges forward to hug him around the neck. “Love you pporever, daddy,” she repeats, and your heart feels so painfully full at the sight, like you just unlocked a new life achievement from seeing your daughter and her father be so cute together. You don’t get to coo at them for long, because then she’s giving you a warm hug as well, the same phrase muttered in your ear. 

It’s the hardest thing about parenting. 

Seeing your kid slowly broaden their horizons, meeting new people and learning new things. Leaving home. (Granted, she’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon but even that feels like an eternity away to the dramatic parents you and Namjoon have become.) The second goodbye on Jimin’s doorstep isn’t any easier, especially when Hyejoo tugs on your arm and asks you to “say night to daddy please” for her, and your heart breaks just a little more. Jimin flashes you an understanding smile but all you want to do is punch him in the nose for ever telling Yerin what a sleepover is. 

You get home and Namjoon is in a calmer state by now, some old sitcom he hates playing on the TV. Usually, this time of day is reserved for his daily phonemic lessons with Hyejoo, drilling the f sound into her tiny brain, so you guess this is his preferred method of coping in its place: torturing himself with some boring television show. 

“Hey,” he says, and you crawl into his lap with a sad sniffle. “Shh,” he soothes, hand on the back of your head as he guides you into his chest. You’re actually crying now, which is super embarrassing in itself considering you scolded Namjoon for this exact behavior last night. He doesn’t mention it as he pats your back, stupid sitcom paused in favor of soothing you with the deep vibrations of his voice. “Hye’s gonna be back tomorrow, baby.”

“I want her back now,” you huff, vaguely aware of how childish and silly you sound. The tables have turned, and you find yourself wishing you had the same emotional fortitude as Namjoon now. All those parenting books have clearly amounted for something. Somehow, you will the feeling back into your body and pull away from his chest. You must look a mess because he doesn’t even try to hide the amusement on his face. “This is the worst day of my life.” 

Namjoon laughs, deep and hearty, with his eyes squeezing shut from the force. “Come on, wifey, those chicken nuggets aren’t gonna eat themselves.”

It’s quite possibly the most boring evening you’ve had in years. 

(The internet calls it new parent syndrome, where you’re so undeniably in love with your first child and the parenting experience that the rest of the world is put on pause.)

You love Namjoon, honest. But you love your daughter Hyejoo even more— it’s not a controversial sentiment when you know he’s the same way! —and going back to a regular adult life sans kids absolutely sucks. (Or so you thought.)

Kids are prone to asking weirdly philosophical questions, a fact that had greatly delighted you when Hyejoo first started speaking. Who am I? What’s money? Why not? It could get annoying sometimes, trying to answer all of Hyejoo’s curiosities. But as you begin on your second batch of dinosaur chicken nuggets, all you can think about is how Jimin gets to answer them tonight. 

Anyway, seven rolls around and you and Namjoon are bored. You can only watch so many episodes of Seinfield before you get tired of feigning interest, so you retire from the living room for the night. “I’m gonna take a bath,” you tell him, but he’s as brain dead as you by now. 

A second later, “lemme join.” 

It’s been a while since the two of you have squeezed into the bathtub together, usually assigning each other days to individually join Hyejoo. So it’s really not either of your faults when you realize a second too late how small the space is. One on each end, feet bumping into each other with every movement, it’s like trying to squeeze two feet into one shoe. You try to readjust yourself, but the bath flooring is slippery and you nearly take away Namjoon’s procreative abilities with a mighty kick. 

To make a long story short, you end up pressed against his chest, Namjoon’s thick thighs framing you as you relax into the steaming water. Instinctively, he reaches for Hyejoo’s bottle of baby shampoo that sits on the tub’s ledge and only catches himself just as the first droplet is meeting his palm. “Oh, fuck,” he sighs, quickly closing the lid before he can waste any more precious product. “Shit, I’m so sad.”

You snort, sinking farther back into his chest. He’s warm and soft in all the right ways, the hot water making him slippery. “What did we even do before Hyejoo?” you ask, reaching into the deepest crevices of your mind for answers. Namjoon’s hand comes around, fingers sprawled out over your knee, the one you have propped up and breaking the water’s surface 

He makes a rather vague sound, something like I don’t know, as he lolls forward, forehead on your shoulder. “Go on dates,” he responds eventually. “Fuck like crazy.” 

You roll your eyes. “Besides that,” you chide, pinching the back of his palm. “Don’t we have any hobbies? Any interests?” He doesn’t answer, which is all the answer you need. Why didn’t you get into puzzle solving back when it was a trend? “Is this what our life has become? Crying in a bathtub at seven pm because our emotional support child isn’t here?”

“Our only child,” he corrects. Namjoon tries to placate your looming existential crisis with a kiss to your shoulder, lips against wet skin, that he trails up to your neck. “And what’s wrong with going on dates and fucking?” he murmurs, hands around your stomach. “That’s how we got here,” he teases, and you’re not sure if it’s the warm water or the way his voice is like melted chocolate dripping down your body, but you become all too aware of his presence at that moment. Particularly, of the plush lips mindlessly kissing your shoulder, the wet smack of their motions. 

Another kiss, this time right below your ear. It has your head rolling to the side, exposing more skin for him to kiss up on. There’s still that overwhelming cloud of worry in the back of your mind, but it’s gradually nudged away by Namjoon’s warm hands on your skin. Sensing your weakening resolve, Namjoon strikes again. A hand slips down over your stomach, brushes over your belly button and finds itself between your thighs. “You used to love date nights, baby,” he says, the pad of his pointer finger grazing your clit. 

It’s been so long since you and Namjoon have been alone like this, months since you’ve been able to touch him beyond a simple make out session, a halfhearted grope beneath the sheets. Your daughter, as much as you loved her, made intimacy impossible for the two of you. She was always around, always looking for one or the both of you, so there was never time to even think about getting frisky. 

Only now, with his finger circling your clit, do you realize the blessing in disguise that was your daughter’s first slumber party away from home. 

His finger nudges your clit, flicks it teasingly. “Why don’t you let me take care of you, hm?” he hums, the hand that had been soothingly stroking the inside of your thigh coming up to rub at your breasts. 

“Yes, please,” you whine. Resting your head on his shoulder leaves Namjoon with a clear view down your front, lips kissing and sucking along your neck. His huge hand palms your breast, massaging the sensitive skin. You hadn’t realized how sore you’d been until now, his nimble fingers pressing deliciously into the skin. If your nipples weren’t already hard before, they certainly were now. 

He traps one pearled nipple between two fingers, the sudden pinch making you hiss. “Easy, now,” he chuckles, his low tenor paired with his wandering hands making your eyes roll back. 

Namjoon liked to use a higher tone around the house. He read somewhere that children prefer lighter, sweeter tones, so the last few years have been spent listening to him lighten the tone of his voice for the sake of your daughter. The deeper, growlier voice that had first made you fall in love with him became a rarity in your household, reserved for quiet nights in the living room or long drives where Hyejoo was asleep in the backseat. Only then does he unleash the gravelly qualities of his voice. 

Then, and apparently, now. 

His doll-like lips press against your jaw, suck lightly enough to make your body tingle. “Do you remember how it was the first time?” he says suddenly, his hot breath against your neck. 

Namjoon’s got your clit trapped between two wandering fingers, has your pussy twitching with the vibrations of his voice alone. And for some reason, he’s trying to reminisce about your first time sleeping together. 

“N- Not really,” you confess, subtly reaching down. You cover his palm with yours, hoping your touch will encourage him to carry on with his actions. It doesn’t. It just leaves both your hands hovering over your pussy, your thighs instinctively closing in on them to keep him there. Namjoon responds to that, releasing the breast he had been gently massaging in order to pry your legs apart. He does it so easily, despite the way your legs feel tight as hell, and the fact makes you whimper. 

Once he’s got his hands back between your thighs— this time, he uses one hand to carefully part your quivering lips, the other one gingerly pressing down against your clit to draw the most heavenly sensations out of you —Namjoon feels the need to dive into a recap of your first fuck. “You were so cute,” he laughs, and you don’t know if you should take offense. Well, considering you're married and have a kid now, it’s probably too late to say anything anyway. His hand suddenly switches gears, three fingers joining together to begin caressing them over your throbbing clit. “Kept talking to me so politely, even when you were creaming my cock.”

You scoff, but it gets cancelled out by the moan he draws out of you. “D- Didn’t know you that well,” you remind him, your thighs twitching. You desperately want to buck forward into his giving hands, want to feel the true power of those long, pretty fingers on your cunt. 

Behind you, Namjoon’s cock grows thick, his breathing a slow and steady pace by your ear. You can already imagine how heavy he is, the vein that runs along the underside and throbs with each new bit of stimulus he receives. Normally you would reach back and try to offer him the same helping hand he gives you, but your thighs feel wobbly already. Your libido has been dormant for so long that even just the barest flick of his thumb has you dissolving into his arms like this is your first time. 

It’s as if Namjoon’s sensing your inner battle, a muffled laugh against the side of your neck. “This is about you,” he reminds you. As much as you want to protest, a sudden hard rub against your quivering lips has you gasping for breath. “Give me a kiss,” he commands softly, nudging his nose against the side of your face. It takes a second for you to ground yourself, draw yourself away from your building pleasure, to turn toward his waiting lips. 

Namjoon kisses you slowly, like he’s taking his time with you. For the first time in a long time, he truly can. He doesn’t have to worry about a certain someone waking up in the middle of the night or walking in or anything along those lines, lips molding against yours. Plush as always, the faint taste of dinosaur chicken nuggets clinging to his lips. It makes you laugh a little, drawing away with an airy giggle. Namjoon smiles at your reaction, murmuring a soft, “what is it?”

You shake your head, eyes fluttering shut as he continues his circular motions against your clit. “Nothing,” you pant, finally getting in your first thrust against his fingers. “I just really need you,” you say instead, pushing his hand harder down against you. 

You’re feeling a little antsy, having been deprived of this sensation for so long. Namjoon knows this, which is why he very purposely slows down. “There’s no rush,” he smirks, placing a kiss against your chin. “How do you want it, baby?”

The inside of your brain is a scrambled mess, filled with fantasies and ideas that have been plaguing you for months. There’s so much you want to do, want to try, but it’s like your brain completely blanks out when he asks. It’s just as you’re beginning to formulate a thought that you’re interrupted by the sound of your ringtone in the other room. Your husband’s arms tighten around you. “Don’t go,” he says quietly, the tip of his nose running along your neck. It’s so tempting to stay here, to let yourself go in his arms and chase the pleasure you’ve been craving for so long. 

But the endless possibilities of who exactly could be calling wins over. Was it work? Was it your parents? Jimin?

It is with a heavy sigh that you reach for Namjoon’s hand, slowly pushing him away from your cunt. “I’m sorry, honey,” you frown, standing up out of the tub. Your legs really do feel like jelly, and you nearly slip and crack your skull on the porcelain edge. Luckily, Namjoon is there to steady you with two secure hands on your waist. “I’ll make it quick,” you reassure him, dropping a kiss on his pouty lips as you fasten a towel around your body. 

The phone is just starting up its final ring when you reach it. It’s Jimin, and you’re torn between being thankful that you’re getting word on Hyejoo and full blown panic from the fact Jimin is calling you while Hyejoo is in his care. The unease has you accepting the call without a second more to waste. “Hello?” you say, hand tightening on the front of your towel. Stray water droplets trace ticklish trails down the backs of your thighs.

“__?” comes Jimin’s sweet voice. It’s normally soothing, but right now it has every hair on your body standing on end. Before you can even respond, Jimin is jumping headfirst into a whirlwind of a conversation. “Sorry for calling so late, but I just wanted to check in on you, babe. I know you were really panicked about Hye’s first night away from home, but don’t worry! Me and the missus are doing everything we can to make sure she’s fine.”

His confidence reassures you, lessens the weight that had been sitting on your chest all afternoon. But at the same time, you find yourself wanting to throttle him. 

Your gorgeous, sexy hunk of a husband is sitting in the other room, cock at full mast and ready to pleasure you to the moon and back, and here you are listening to Jimin brag about how good of a caretaker he is. You were definitely going to make Jimin pay for this. 

Deep breaths, you tell yourself, toying with a stray thread on your towel. “Really,” you drawl, and you can practically see Jimin’s ego swell over the line. 

“Yup,” Jimin agrees, and by the sounds of it, doesn’t seem like he’s hoping to end this call anytime soon. You want to shoulder part of the blame; you had been extra sad and mopey when you dropped your daughter off. On top of being a good dad, Jimin was also a good friend. It was only naturally he wanted to reassure you when he could. 

Still, the memory of Namjoon’s wet chest was calling out to you. 

“The girls are playing princess in the living room with the missus right now,” Jimin chats on. “New dresses and everything— the Yerin Birthday Special —and they asked me to be their handsome prince!” You sincerely cannot wait for the day you get to introduce Jimin to your right fist. 

“That’s great,” you offer, not that he’s really listening. He’s too busy talking about Yerin (and making sure to include Hyejoo in for your sake) and how amazing it is to watch your kids grow up before your very eyes. And while you agree with the sentiment, you really wish he had called you and told you this earlier, when you were at the peak of your motherly meltdown. Not now with Namjoon waiting for you in the bathtub. Was the water even warm anymore? 

The mind blowing orgasm practically slips from your fingertips the longer Jimin talks. “Anyway! Enough about them. I’m thinking of trying out that blueberry bread recipe that aired on TV last night. You know, the one they had that actress make.”

You’ve just about resigned yourself to listening to Jimin talk about his love for pastries for the next thirty minutes when something brushes up behind you. “What the fu—“

He’s so tall and broad, practically covers your entire frame when he stands so close. And his smile is so pretty when he aims it your way. “Sh,” Namjoon murmurs, gesturing towards your phone.  

“__?” Jimin calls. “Everything alright?” 

Namjoon nods eagerly, the hands on your waist properly positioning you in front of him. It’s with a shudder running down your spine that you respond. “I’m fine,” you tell Jimin, letting go of the front of your towel when Namjoon abruptly pushes you over. The white comforter infused with both of your scents comes all too close, your elbow barely managing to reach out in time to catch you.  

Wide eyed, you turn to throw Namjoon a scandalized look over your shoulder. He meets you with a close-mouthed smile, the dimples in his cheeks making themselves known. His chest is drier now, the smooth planes covered in a thin dewy glow and a spattering of droplets he missed. There’s a towel around his waist that’s barely doing its job, especially when you catch sight of the erection tenting beneath it. 

“As I was saying,” Jimin rambles on. Namjoon nods towards the device, refusing to move again until you finally turn back around to finish your conversation with Jimin. “That actress fucked it up so bad. They really give anyone with a pretty face screen time these days, huh? At least I know how to properly preheat an oven.”

You nod. “You do make the best cookies in town,” you respond, a ball of anticipation building in your throat from the mere fact Namjoon is standing behind you. 

It’s completely warranted once you feel two cold fingers trail up the back of your thigh, your towel gradually pushed up to drape around your waist. The air in your room is a little chilly, and the goosebumps that raise on your skin are partly due to that, as well as the ghostlike touch of Namjoon’s fingers. “Pretty,” he murmurs, so deep and gravelly it has you shuddering.  

Two fingers dance along your skin, and you subconsciously jolt away when they meet the tender skin around your pussy. By your ear, Jimin says, “if I completely fuck it up, we’ll just pretend this conversation never happened. Deal?”

Using your own body against you, Namjoon lets one finger dip just the smallest bit into your quivering hole. You clench up, thighs trembling when he eventually pulls it back out and traces your own wetness over your folds. “Perfect,” you bite out, clutching at the sheets beneath you as Namjoon reaches for your forgotten clit. It’s still so sensitive from your little fun in the bath, and it takes every ounce of strength in you to hold back the whiny gasp in your throat. 

Behind you, Namjoon suddenly presses in close. One hand on your hip, he gently encourages you onto the bed. Your knees sink into the mattress, one less strain on your legs. “Good girl,” he praises quietly, rewarding your behavior with a finger sinking into your cunt. 

“Joo—“ you almost slip, burying your face into the sheets just in time. 

A devastatingly slow pace, his finger just barely moving in and out of you. The bulk of your pleasure is coming from that bundle of nerves towards your front, but the teasing gesture isn’t appreciated anyway. When he leans over you, breath against your neck, you feel the length of his cock against your thigh. “He’s asking you a question,” Namjoon whispers, “answer him, baby.”

You nod, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he presses himself closer. Jimin hasn’t even noticed your lack of participation, mindlessly humming a song. The sounds of a running sink highlight his vocals. “Oh, absolutely,” you babble. “I wouldn’t tell a soul.” 

“Ha!” Jimin scoffs. “I knew I could always count on you, Miss __,” he snarks playfully. 

The hand toying with your clit comes around your waist, fingers stroking against your folds from this new angle. A silent moan has you writhing forward, unconsciously away from him as Jimin babbles on the other end of the line. He’s none the wiser to the lewd acts happening on the line, listening to the sound of his own voice. Namjoon lands a mean little bite against your shoulder, plunging his finger deeper inside of your clenching hole. 

Paired with his teasing fingers, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your moans, biting your lip until it stings. “Fuck, fuck,” you whimper against the sheets, holding your phone as far away as possible from your mouth as a litany of curse words spill from your lips. Namjoon chuckles at your dramatics, not like he has his fingers deep inside of you right now or anything. 

“So cute,” he hums, removing his hand from your clit to snatch your towel away. It gives way too easily, messily thrown over the edge of the bed. With your back completely exposed now, Namjoon wastes no time trailing a line of kisses up your spine, finishing off with an especially wet and hard one behind your ear. “Hang up now.”

His permission sets your body on edge, drawing your phone close again. Jimin is talking about dinner or something, you don’t even know. Not an ounce of remorse fills you when you clear your throat and hurriedly announce, “I have to—“ Namjoon’s cock, finally uncovered by his towel, presses against your folds and you nearly lose it. “—I have to go now, Jimin,” you say, leveling your breathing as best as you can. 

“Wait, what the fuck?” Jimin says, thrown off by your sudden departure. 

The mushroom tip of his cock kisses your clit. “Fuck— I really have to go.” And you hang up, chucking the phone off to the side hastily. With your hands both freed, you scramble onto your back, meeting the amused gaze of your husband behind you. “Fuck me, now.”

Namjoon laughs, reaching for the towel barely clinging onto his waist. One suave swoop later and it joins yours on the floor. “You did good,” he praises, lowering himself between your spread thighs. You roll your eyes, grabby hands reaching for his hips until he’s sitting snugly against you, cock resting over your throbbing cunt. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you snap, the tight feeling in your tummy growing with every second that passes. Namjoon isn’t as unaffected as he pretends to be, a pearly bead of cum appearing at the tip of his engorged cock. “Just fuck me now.”

He raises a brow. “Missionary?” As if it’s the first time. 

“Is there something wrong with it?” you ask anyway, self-consciously reaching an arm over yourself to cover your naked breasts. They’ve pebbled over just from his stare alone. 

Namjoon hesitates, the hand on your hip drawing slow circles with his thumb. Eventually, he responds with a halfhearted shrug. “It’s not the best.” This is news to you, and you find yourself sitting up at the sudden bomb he’s dropped. 

He’s still hard as rock between you, his dick laying almost artfully against your slit. You really just want to throw aside all reservations and begin grinding against him, penetration be damned, but now Namjoon’s got that thoughtful quirk to his lips. The one that usually accompanies any big brained idea, so you settle down, nudging him with your thigh until he’s looking at you again. “Penny for your thoughts?” What you really want to say is please fuck me like I’m just another cum rag of yours and make it hurt, but alas. 

Namjoon sits back on his haunches. “I read somewhere that on your hands and knees is the best way to get pregnant.” You choke on your own tongue, face ablaze from his forward statement. Meanwhile, Namjoon is looking as relaxed as ever. 

You hadn’t really discussed children after Hyejoo. The wordless agreement had been that sure, you were both down for another kid sometime in the future. But the exact date had sort of been murky. Hyejoo is three now, and you heard from another mom that it’s difficult for children with wide age gaps to get along. You don’t want her growing up being far removed from another sibling. 

But also, now?

It’s like Namjoon knows your thoughts before you even do. “Alright, wifey, say no more,” he says, leaning down to place a kiss against your lips. “I’ll get the condom, alright?”

And then he’s stepping off the bed, every muscle of his toned body flexing as he swaggers over towards the dresser. He’s a walking dream, the physical embodiment of all your crazy sex fantasies, and he wants to fuck a baby into you. Your pussy says yes, but your rationality is still on the fence. 

You roll onto your side, head propped into your open palm. “You want another baby?” you ask tentatively. Namjoon shrugs, carefully opening the new box of condoms you had bought half a year ago. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to have another kid,” he answers, procuring a tiny foil packet from the box and returning to his spot between your legs. It’s like staring at a marble statue from this angle, the defined planes of his chest and abdomen, the gorgeous slope of his nose, the sharp angles of his face. You really lucked out. 

Your decision comes just as he’s easing the rubber over the tip of his cock, the swollen head just barely enveloped. You place a hand against his wrist, earning his attention. “Take it off,” you mumble, and you swear on your entire life he swells another inch. 

“Oh, baby,” he groans, hastily throwing the condom somewhere across the room. He rolls over you, bulging arms sweeping you up into his embrace, lips capturing yours in a sloppy kiss. You whimper, letting his tongue push itself past your lips. When he pulls away, it’s with a wet pop and glistening lips. They’re so puffy now, flushed a nice rosy color, that makes him look even more handsome when he smiles down at you. “Gonna look so pretty all pregnant,” he beams, placing a chaste kiss against you one last time before he’s hurriedly rolling you onto your stomach. 

You hide your bashful expression against the sheets, suddenly feeling very shy before him. But then Namjoon’s cock is running along your lips and you’re left a shivering mess. “Please just fuck me,” you beg hoarsely, and Namjoon obeys. 

“Whatever you want, wifey,” he teases, and before you can call him out for his cheesiness, he’s pressing his thumb into your aching hole once more. “Is this okay?” he asks, somberly for the first time in what seems like forever. 

“I’m okay,” you confess, a little shyly now that you know his true motives.  

Namjoon chuckles, quickly removing his finger from inside of you to give your ass one soothing pat. “Going in,” he warns you, and finally, you’re rewarded for all your struggles. It’s only as his mushroom head squeezes in that you realize you could have done with a bit more stretching, but that thought fades away the more and more he pushes in. “Fuck,” he groans, the low intonation of his voice making your toes curl.

If it’s not his voice, it’s the sheer length of his cock inside of you. The girth makes your spine tingle, has you muffling a pitiful whimper into the comforter beneath you. “Relax for me,” he directs, and then suddenly he’s placing a palm against your back, pushing you further down. “Hips up.” 

You groan. The normally soft fabric of the blanket feels like hell on your sensitive breasts. “I’m trying,” you whine, pushing back onto him in an effort to familiarize yourself with his cock again. It’s been so long since he’s been inside of you like this, since he’s filled you so well, that your body acts a little stupid now. He hasn’t even begun thrusting and you already feel like you’ll cum just from this.  

The angle is different than your usual style, has him moving along every inch of you as he sinks in. Two big hands grab at your waist, manhandling you closer to him until you’re just like he wants you to be. “There we go,” he sighs, and with him motionless, you finally relax. It’s about a two second pause before he begins to draw himself back out. “How do you want it?” he grunts, but it’s lost beneath the moan that escapes you. It’s the same question he asked you in the tub, right before Jimin called, except this time you have an answer. 

“Fast,” you gasp, the pain from the stretch finally, finally, melting away as your body grows accustomed to his presence inside of you. “Do it fast, please.”

Namjoon does as he’s told, waiting until he’s pulled out until the tip to satisfy your requests. And then he’s off. 

Your body isn’t as young as it once was, left a little worn from the entire child-bearing process. Sometimes you wonder how exactly you and Namjoon would fuck until sunrise before, how your sex drive was so high that it allowed such a thing to happen. Admittedly, there’s currently a stiffness inside of you that has been there for a while now, and you barely remember how you got rid of it before. Apparently, this is how.

Namjoon’s hard cock rams into you once, makes you release the most embarrassingly loud moan at the sudden intrusion, and it’s like all those months of tension that built up in your body are melted away. His cock pushes past your folds, creating a lewd squelching sound that would otherwise leave you mortified to learn it came from your body. You shudder, desperately pushing your ass back against him in a feeble attempt to feel it again. 

“Still so fucking tight for me,” he growls, snapping his hips forwards. His skin slaps against yours, leaves you feeling tender from the brutal movements of his body. But at the same time, it feels absolutely terrific. 

Your lips are still coated in your own wetness, have him noisily moving in and out. “J- Joon,” you whimper softly, but you doubt he hears it over the sound of his own labored breathing. “More.”

He responds with a sudden piston inside of you that has the tip of his cock nearly kissing your cervix. “More?” he huffs, the hand on your back pressing down until you fear you’ll become one with the mattress. “You want more?” You nod hurriedly, somehow managing to stretch a hand down between you to toy with your clit. The brush of your own fingers has you bucking back onto him in surprise.

Wordlessly, he speeds up his pace, thrusting his hips into your velvety walls at a faster speed than before. It’s a weird sensation, a sort of ticklish feeling m that makes you tremble with each roll forward. You can’t say the two of you have done it in this position a lot, always preferring the more romantic missionary position to anything else, but this experience was quickly making you an avid believer of its validity as a top tier sex position. 

You swirl your pointer finger around your clit, trying to sync up your shaky touch with his steady thrusts. It’s useless, because every time you feel like you’ve gotten into the same groove, Namjoon one ups you by hauling you back against him. “Oh, f- fuck,” you sob, clawing at the sheets beneath you. 

Namjoon groans, momentarily pausing his rapid thrusts to roll his buried cock against you. “Come on, baby,” he husks, the hilt of his cock kissing your folds. 

There’s a lot of built up sexual tension inside of you, months on top of months of nothingness. Not to mention that little scene in the bathtub just now. So you’re not really surprised that your orgasm rears its head so early, curling up tightly in your stomach the longer Namjoon fucks you. He’s back to thrusting now, shallow little movements that make you see stars every time his cock glides inside of you. “Joon, I'm gonna...” you rasp out pitifully, grinding back against him. 

“Whenever you want,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press a kiss against your shoulder. It’s sweet, but on top of that, it has him pushing in further than before, finally pressed against that sensitive spot inside of you that makes your entire body lock up. You sob, thighs quivering when he reaches an arm around you. It’s almost romantic how your hands meet, his fingers covering yours as he guides them over your clit slowly. “Give it to me, baby,” he croons, lips pressed securely against your neck. He leaves soft kisses there, smooches really, that make you melt. 

Another shallow buck of his hips forward and you’re cumming, breaths picking up until they accumulate into a choked wail against the sheets. “Fuck— oh, fuck,” you cry, your thighs spasming from the force of your first satisfying orgasm in months. Namjoon holds you through it, slowly thrusting inside of you until he’s drawn out your entire orgasm.

The new added pleasure makes his movements sound even wetter, dirtier even. “That’s it,” he purrs, pushing himself back up to his full height behind you. You feel absolutely boneless beneath him, laying limply against the mattress as Namjoon repositions your hips for himself. “Can I finish like this, sweetheart?” he asks anyway, thumbs drawing a soothing pattern along your hip. 

You can barely catch your breath, so you settle on a halfhearted nod that has him huffing out a laugh. 

For some reason, Namjoon fucks you harder once he knows you’ve had your fill. Like he’s trying to draw another orgasm out of you, but is also the least bit concerned with you. Honestly, it works. He moves fast and hard, like he has no regard for your pleasure, and for some reason that turns you on more than it should. It’s this weird fantasy of yours, to be mistreated by a man as respectful as Namjoon, and you find yourself weirdly fulfilling it now as he fucks his cock into you. 

His fingers dig into your skin, wildly bucking into you as he chases his own high, and it’s embarrassing how quickly a second one builds up for you. You moan at one particular thrust, body sensitive all over. “Oh,” you whimper, “Namjoon.”

He grunts, your cries fueling him on as he continues his mad race to the end. “Gonna cum with me again?” he pants, his quick pace rocking you forward. You nod, using your killer grip on the sheets to ground yourself as you weakly attempt to meet his thrusts. “Aren’t you the sweetest,” he hums, and doesn’t let you respond as he continues to jackhammer his way into your pussy at a bruising pace. 

It takes a few more thrusts, and one whiny cry of his name— “come on, Joonie,” you whimper, turning to throw him a teary-eyed gaze over your shoulder; he shudders at the sight —until Namjoon is finally tipped over the edge, shooting his pleasure deep into you on the next thrust. It’s warm, paints your walls and threatens to spill out when he finally pulls out. 

But Namjoon has read up, using those big strong arms of his to keep you from collapsing onto your tummy as he scrambles around for something to keep your hips up. “It sticks better this way,” he says, a sheen of sweat against his temples when he flops down beside you. 

“What sticks better,” you groan, the achy feeling of just having your world rocked quickly settling into your bones. 

Namjoon leans forward and places a kiss against your lips, as if saying here, for all your hard work. “You know... it,” he shrugs, hands behind his head as he prepares himself to supervise your post-sex nap, just to make sure you don’t accidentally move around and let his cum leak out. “You did good, wifey,” he praises with another smooch. “Maybe we should let Hyejoo sleep over at Jimin’s more.”

Hyejoo’s return is the highlight of the year. 

You pick her up around noon, and your heart nearly grows ten sizes when you see her come running down Jimin’s front steps and into your arms. “Hi, mommy,” she beams, the same smile as Namjoon. And just like Namjoon, you can’t stop yourself from covering her face in tiny kisses. She says they tickle and squirms and squeals in your embrace. 

Jimin’s at the door with this weirdly blank look on his face. “Hey, Jimin,” you call out, helping Hyejoo load her bag into the backseat.

“Hey…” he greets, just as Hyejoo frantically begins calling for you to buckle her in. “Um, __,” Jimin says, but you’re a little busy securing the tiny love of your life into her booster seat, so you just throw him a quick glance to let him know you’re listening. Kinda. “There’s something I have to tell you—“

“I wanna see daddy!” Hyejoo babbles from the backseat, wildly waving her hands around as you finally close the door on her. With it shut, her loud voice is drowned out and you’re left raising a brow at Jimin as you round the front of the car. 

“What’s up?” you ask. 

Jimin comes down the steps, awkwardly hovering by the front of your car. “Um, when we were on the phone—“ Hyejoo knocks her tiny hands against the window, gesturing for you to hurry up. You flash Jimin an apologetic frown at the interruption. “Well, you see. She kinda heard us— well, me—” 

Another flurry of knocks, and you can’t wait to relay to Namjoon how excited your daughter had been to see him again. It’ll boost his ego, not that he really needs it to be any bigger. “That’s fine,” you tell Jimin, swinging your door open. Immediately, Hyejoo’s high-pitched voice fills the space between you and Jimin. “You know I don’t mind talking to the missus,” you joke, nudging his side. “She’s my friend too, ya know.”

“Gotta show daddy something!” Hyejoo shouts from the backseat, has this big smile on her face that makes you smile as well. 

Beside you, Jimin is quickly falling apart. “No, well—” you drop down into your seat “it wasn’t her who heard—“ You shut the door, lowering the window to thank Jimin one more time. Hyejoo beats you to it.

“Bye, Mr. Jimin!” she says, tiny legs kicking around all wildly in her excitement. You shake your head with a grin, waving goodbye to Jimin one last time as you pull out of his driveway. 

“Daddy!” Hyejoo shrieks upon entering your home. Her tiny overnight bag is tossed down at the entryway, ladybug rain boots haphazardly kicked towards the general direction of the shoe closet. Namjoon had been upstairs in his study when you left, but he now comes bounding down the steps at the sound of your daughter’s voice. He cries out a dopey, “princess”, as he scoops her up in his big arms. He does a twirl and everything, so dramatic. But it makes Hyejoo giggle like crazy. 

She allows one big fat kiss against her chubby cheeks before she’s shushing him with the news of her announcement. “Daddy, look,” she beams, holding his face between her tiny hands. “I can say the f sound now!”

Namjoon has been avidly working towards this ability for months now. Namjoon, who has spent nights reading every page of every child development book possible, who has spent hours decorating pretty flashcards for her, who has sectioned off time from his busy schedule everyday just to go over lessons with her. Well, Namjoon looks over the goddamn moon at the news. 

“Let’s hear it, honey,” you urge, stepping in when his happiness renders him incapable of speech. So he just nods along, looks like a bobblehead doll beside you. 

And with both of her proud, sometimes overprotective, parents standing before her, Hyejoo puts on a big grin and says, “fuck.”

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.