#this barely even counts as an observation

[fxstpace]

the very first night

summary: the search for a new place to live takes a turn for the worse when the only person willing to split rent with you is your ex-boyfriend.

pairing: kim mingyu x fem!reader genres: romance, angst, smut, exes to lovers!au, roommates!au word count: 19.7k

↳ warnings: profanity, alcohol conusmption, explicit sexual content (oral sex, fingering, protected sex) ↳ a/n: title is the very first night by taylor swift. reposted from my old blog.

ONE

You think that all the decisions you’ve made in your life so far have all boiled down to this one moment.

Karmic retribution, if you will.

Despite the six months for which you and your ex-boyfriend have been separated, Kim Mingyu looks the same. The same floppy hair that never quite sits flat on his head—though he’s let it grow a tiny bit, and now it curls behind his ears—and the same tight-fitting black shirt you swear you tried stealing from him once. Wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and warm brown eyes that peer back at you. Pink lips which beckon you with a small, yet welcoming smile.

“Hey.” The word drags from his mouth, and he extends the last syllable for a second longer than necessary. “You’re here early.”

Shit. Even his voice sounds the same.

You heft your suitcase and place it by your feet just so you can avoid eye contact. Under different circumstances, Mingyu probably wouldn’t have let you carry your suitcase all the way up the stairs to the third floor—the elevator has been out of commission since before you even met him, and that doesn’t appear to change anytime soon. He probably would have lugged the whole thing upstairs, despite your protests and claims that you’re strong enough to do it on your own. But now, you can only sense his gaze on your figure as you place it securely on the floor.

When you straighten up, he’s still looking at you. He has an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed over his chest, but his eyes are clouded, almost as if he’s built some kind of impenetrable fortress against you. You have your walls up, too—in the slight clench of your jaw and defiant raise of your chin—and it’s something someone else wouldn’t be able to notice, but you’re sure Kim Mingyu has.

“Yeah. Um.” You attempt to smile, pray it doesn’t visibly appear as a grimace, and gesture behind you with your thumb. “The packers and movers came by pretty early, so everything ended up moving faster.”

“I see.” He purses his lips, evidently running out of things to say. (Good for you, really, because there’s nothing for you to say either.)

You take the chance to glance behind him—a feat in itself, considering how broad his shoulders are—and observe the interiors of what is going to be your home for the next year. Beige walls, the ratty sofa he bought off a garage sale, the television set he originally used to play video games on but ended up using it to watch shows instead—and a potted succulent placed in the corner. That wasn’t there before.

Before you allow your lips to tug up amusedly, Mingyu speaks again. “Is that all? When’s the rest of your stuff coming in?”

“The movers said they’d have everything ready within two days. It might take me longer to get everything sorted out, though,” you reply, aiming your gaze downwards at your suitcase.

It’s an old thing, with fraying fabric and rusty wheels, but it currently contains a fraction of your belongings: Clothes, toiletry, a small pouch where you keep items that have a special significance to you. Only the bare essentials, really. Mingyu had assured you that the room was furnished, with a bed, closet and desk. His old roommate, Minghao, had moved out but left the furniture behind because he had no reason to take them with him—not when he moved in with his girlfriend in her own apartment. All that’s left for the movers to bring over is your bookshelf, your book collection, the rest of your clothes, the Ikea drawer you and your best friend, Park Jihyo, built together, and other smaller items like your desk lamp and office chair.

“That’s okay,” Mingyu says. “Take as long as you need.”

You nod, mumbling a “thank you”, then bend down to pick up your suitcase.

Mingyu moves aside, granting you enough space to roll it across the floor and head over to the side that leads to the Minghao’s old room. Right opposite you is the doorway that leads to Mingyu’s bedroom, and further to the side is the corridor that opens into the kitchen, the small space where he keeps a dining table, and the bathroom.

In a way, you’re glad your room is situated further away from those places. Ghosts of memories linger there, ones that you can’t bear to revisit.

No, it’s better this way; you’re away from everything that you used to consider a second home. Maybe if you close the door behind you, you can pretend like you’re in some kind of void where the only things that exist are you and the bed.

“Wait, Y/N.”

You pause, feeling… something. The way he says your name, so casually, as if it’s second nature to him (it used to be) and nothing has changed at all, has you on edge—not in the good way, but not in the bad way either. 

You turn around. “Yeah?”

“Um.” Your ex-boyfriend hesitates for a second. “I’m… going out for dinner with Minghao and some others, is that okay? It might be late by the time I come back.”

“Okay.” Then, feeling the need to clarify something, you say, “You—you don’t have to tell me that. We don’t… owe each other an explanation for where the other is.”

Mingyu stays quiet, and you look away, teeth worrying your bottom lip. You wonder if he’s going to say anything—or even show any kind of reaction at all. 

“Right. We don’t.” His voice is toned down with a kind of uneasiness that you don’t blame him for. Heck, even you feel a twinge of hurt rise up your throat at your own words. “I’ll… let you get some rest.” He nods once, places his hands in his pockets, and walks back to his room.

Your grip on the suitcase handle tightens. Once you enter your room, you let out a pained sigh. You shut the door and turn your back to the wooden blockade that separates you from the rest of the apartment.

This is not going the way you expected—but then again, what had you expected? That everything between you and Mingyu would just vanish and you could talk to him normally without feeling that tiny pinprick of bitterness stab your chest every time you address him? You and Mingyu have a history, filled with good times and bad times, and six months spent away from each other will do nothing to erase that. 

You think of what your old roommate, Jihyo, would’ve said. He’s just a boy, Y/N. Make him clean the toilet all the time so he’ll automatically get sick of you.

You smile to yourself, unlocking your phone. Jihyo is probably too busy settling down in her new home in the city she moved to, so she can’t pick up your call. You decide to send her a text message instead.

You switch to the food app, order your favourite dishes from the Indian place a couple of streets away, and toss your phone onto the bed. Kneeling, you unzip your suitcase and unpack the few items you have with you. As you move around, you can already imagine how to decorate the place, how to make it feel more like a home and less like you’re an intruder. The closet is just enough for all the clothes you own—the ones you’ve packed and the ones stored in cardboard boxes yet to arrive. The desk placed opposite to the bed is perfect for when you have to work on your laptop late at night; if you place your lamp on it, you might even forget that you’re not in your old apartment. The bed already has a mattress with clean linen on the bedspread. You place your old Looney Tunes duvet on it.

Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rings. You pause your unpacking to get the door and thank the delivery guy for the food. Mingyu has already left, judging by the lack of noise in the rest of the apartment. You just hope he doesn’t come back home drunk and shit-faced—that would definitely ruin the rest of your night, and the much-needed sleep you require. 

You decide not to use the kitchen table, instead opting to take the food containers into your room, where you can eat and watch a show at the same time. It’s lonely, but at least you can have your meal somewhere comfortable.

Your phone rings with notifications. You pick it up, carefully balancing the bowl of curry on your knee. 

(19:47) Jihyo: hows the apartment??? did u make mingyu clean the toilet yet?

(19:47) Mingyu: hey, i’m at a thai place. do you want anything to eat at home? i could get something packaged.

You smile at the first text, tense up at the second one, and place your phone down next to you. Not replying to either of their messages might be a bad idea, but right now, all you want is to have your spicy curry and naan in peace—your best friend and ex-boyfriend be damned.

TWO

It’s only after you move in with Mingyu that your separation from Jihyo truly sinks in. Now, there’s no one you can wake up at two in the morning because your period started and you ran out of pads, or gossip about that one campus couple who broke up in public at your favourite boba place.

Not to mention the fact that living with your ex-boyfriend is mildly awkward at best and stupidly melancholic at worst.

It’s been a week, but you and Mingyu seem to have figured out a way to work in tandem. It appears as though neither of you want to see the other—just yet, at least. He goes for a morning jog at six; your alarm rings at six. He comes back reeking of sweat at seven in the morning; you’re getting ready to leave for work by then. You do the dishes on the days he vacuums the apartment and vice versa. It leaves no room for conversation, other than the occasional greetings and small talk when you happen to cross paths.

In fact, ever since you purposefully ignored Mingyu’s text asking if you wanted anything from the Thai restaurant, he’s made a conscious effort at avoiding you.

You nearly jump out of your seat when someone taps your shoulder. “Hey.”

You turn around and meet your co-worker, Lee Seokmin’s eyes. He smiles at you, eyes curving into little crescents.

“Hi,” you say, smiling back automatically.

If there’s one person you can count on to bring a smile to your lips, even if it’s eight o’clock in the morning—at work, no less—it’s Lee Seokmin. His cheerful nature and lively personality is infectious. His happiness radiates outwards in waves that everyone gets swept up on. You might even consider yourself envious of how easily he sways everyone, with that exuberant smile and those good-natured compliments he doles out to everyone like they cost him nothing. (Which they don’t, you suppose.)

“Something on your mind?”

Your smile turns into a grimace. “You could tell?”

He gives you a little half-shrug, still smiling. “You had a weird, serious, think-y face. And before you come at me for think-y not being a real word—I’m very aware of that, thank you—it’s the best way I can describe you.”

“You chose think-y—” you bite back a chuckle— “as the best word to describe me? Come on, Seokmin, you can do better than that.”

“I can,” he agrees, “but only when the situation is appropriate.” His face turns grave, and he continues, “But seriously, Y/N. Did you have a rough night?”

His eyes roam over your face, evident concern shown in the curve of his lips and the slight dip of his eyebrows. You control your wince, wondering if the swollen bags underneath your eyes aren’t as concealed by your makeup as you thought. 

Rough week, more like. But you don’t say that to him. “Something like that,” you say.

“You moved out a while back, right? How’s the new place?”

“It’s… good. Close to the supermarket and all that. Everything is within, like, a ten-metre radius, so I don’t have to go very far to get things.”

“That’s nice to hear,” Seokmin says, and you can tell he really means it. “I bet you’re tired, though, with all that packing and unpacking and moving around.”

He bends closer, the front of his loosely tucked shirt just barely touching the back of your chair. This close, you can smell the faint scent of Seokmin’s deodorant and fabric softener. He taps his finger on the arm of your chair. “Do you want to get some coffee with me?”

“Um.” You look back at your laptop and the pile of binders next to it. Seokmin seems to know what you’re thinking, because he huffs and says, “C’mon, I’m sure Seungcheol wouldn’t mind if you took a coffee break.”

“I guess,” you return, flashing him a smile when he rolls your chair backwards to give you space to stand up.

Getting up, both of you weave your way to the third floor, where the only functioning coffee maker is housed. The elevator is too crowded and busy for you to use to get down from your position on the seventh floor, so you settle for using the stairs. Throughout the ten-minute walk (which effectively turns into a fifteen-minute one, thanks to him), Seokmin waves and greets every single fellow office worker you pass by. By name.

You roll your eyes and bite your lip to hold back your laugh when a young, female intern—probably still in college by the looks of it—flushes bright red because Seokmin complimented her barrette.

He catches your eye and grins. “What’s so funny?”

You shake your head good-naturedly. “It’s nothing. Carry on with whatever you were doing.”

“What was I doing?”

“Oh, you know,” you say airily, “making everyone fall head over heels for you because you’re just so nice.”

His grin only widens. “You make it sound as though being nice is a bad thing.”

“That’s not what I meant at all,” you protest. “I’m just— Greeting every single person you see? By name? How do you even know everyone in the building?”

“I just check their ID card,” he explains, shrugging slightly. “I read this WikiHow article that said if you speak to people using their name, it creates a good impression and makes you appear more confident than you really are.”

“Really?”

Humming, Seokmin nods, before adding slyly, “I’m not sure what you mean by making everyone fall in love with me, though.”

“Please,” you snort. “You’re way too charming for your own good—and I don’t mean that in a bad way.”

“You think so?” 

You can hear the smugness in his tone and you roll your eyes again. “Yes, I think so.”

“Then…” He trails off, gazing at the handrail.

Seokmin’s voice turns softer, more serious. Contemplation bleeds into his features, and when he speaks again, he lacks the bravado he had with all the other people he spoke to on your way down.

“Guess I better work on charming the right people, huh?” 

You blink, but before you can digest Seokmin’s words, he gives you another bright grin before rounding the corner and striding towards the coffee machine. You follow, the need for caffeine in your system overriding your instinct to mull over what your co-worker said. Unfortunately, it seems you and Seokmin aren’t the only ones who want coffee; a long queue runs ahead of you. Your coffee break might end up taking longer than you thought.

“So,” Seokmin casually drawls, one hand in his pocket and the other fiddling with his ID card’s lanyard. “Do you want to talk about your rough night?”

“I…” You pause and consider. 

Should you tell Seokmin? You trust him enough—you’ve known him for as long as you’ve been working in this company—and he’s always been friendly to you, offering you a ride home when both of you work overtime and paying for your food on the occasional visits to a café or a coffee shop. Besides, he’s the closest person you have to a friend, now that Jihyo lives in a different city and you can’t call her up whenever you feel like it. You decide to tread the waters first, only telling him the bare minimum.

“Hypothetically speaking,” you begin, “if you move in with someone you don’t like but have known for years, what would you do?”

“That’s a tough one.” He scratches his chin, pretending to think. “I guess it depends on the kind of past you share, y’know? But either way, I would try to… make peace with them, I guess. Like a ceasefire. Offer them an olive branch. Hypothetically speaking, of course.” He grins knowingly at the last bit and you shove his shoulder.

What Seokmin said makes sense. You and Mingyu are living together; your past relationship shouldn’t come in the way of talking to each other. But it does, so much more than it should. Try as hard as you might, every time you think of Kim Mingyu, the first thing that comes to your mind is all the kisses you’ve shared, the way his arms feel around you, how both of you broke the promises you made to each other—all because you were too proud and he was too stubborn. 

You still are proud. For all you know, Mingyu might still be stubborn. 

What a pair, you think drily.

You and Seokmin shuffle forwards. He stays silent, allowing you to process your thoughts and wonder how, exactly, you’re going to get over Mingyu and talk to him without feeling like your stomach is twisting into a million knots. 

Once you reach the coffee machine, Seokmin hands you a cup. “It’s hot,” he warns, before carefully handing you the styrofoam cup filled to the brim with the bitter brew. You cautiously take a sip, wincing when you almost burn your tongue and make a face at your co-worker when he chimes, “I told you.”

The walk back to your floor doesn’t take as long as the walk down. Before you part ways, Seokmin offers you a small smile and a pat on your shoulder.

“If you’re wondering how to approach your roommate,” he says, lowering his voice, “maybe start off by offering them food. Works like a charm every time.”

Food. Yeah, you can manage that. Dinner with your ex-boyfriend.

Should be a piece of cake.

THREE

Asking Mingyu if he would like to have dinner with you is decidedly not a piece of cake.

When he comes back home from work, Mingyu has only one trajectory: Travel in a straight line from the door to his bedroom, offering you a tight smile if he sees you along the way. His bag is always slung across one shoulder and his shirt is always untucked and his hair is always a wild mess. If his appearance wasn’t achingly familiar, you would probably laugh every time you see his unruly figure.

It takes a week for you to muster up the nerve to look Mingyu in the eye, after your conversation with Seokmin. He’s been pestering you incessantly, almost exactly like Jihyo. When you told her about Seokmin’s suggestion, she had been nothing short of enthusiastic. Your phone has been blowing up constantly with texts from her, egging you on and on and on to make a move first and raise the (hypothetical) white flag. 

“If you keep putting it off, you’re going to be very miserable for the rest of your immediate future,” was her reasoning when you called and spoke to her on the phone three days ago. “But also if you don’t fucking ask him to have a meal with you within the next week, I will fly over and have you both sit in a room, alone, and force you to talk.”

Both the options are pretty much the same. You didn’t have the energy to tell Jihyo that.

It’s on a Monday evening that you catch Mingyu and pop the question. A Monday evening that’s insignificant, really. Almost laughable at how normal the evening is. Mingyu unlocks the door, closes it while toeing his shoes off, and gives you the same tight smile—one where it doesn’t reach his eyes, his jaw is slightly clenched, and his lips thin into almost straight lines. 

“Mingyu.” Your voice comes out breathless, like you’ve been jogging for miles before coming to a stop in front of him. He pauses, wind-ruffled hair framing his face in cloudy wisps.

“Yeah?” 

“I—uh—” you force the words to tumble out of your lips, before you can overthink— “I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me?”

Mingyu purses his lips, looking at you warily. He’s careful, cautious, when he asks, “Is… there any special reason?”

You swallow. “No,” you say honestly, not allowing your eyes to tear away from his. “There isn’t. But I tried making lasagne today, and I would like to share it with someone.”

For a minute, he doesn’t say anything, only lets his bag fall into the crook of his arm. “Okay,” he says finally. “Let me just change and wash up.”

You nod, making your way to the kitchen to bring out the casserole. You’re not usually one for cooking—you prefer ordering takeout because it’s easier and they make the food better than you, anyway—but simply ordering food didn’t sit right with you. Lasagne is a dish you’ve made a few times before, and you would rather make something you’re familiar with instead of trying to whip up something new.

When you go back into the kitchen, you find Mingyu already there, bent over an open cupboard’s door as he fishes out some plates and cutlery. He’s wearing a loose white shirt and grey sweatpants, fringe falling freely over his forehead and obscuring his eyes. 

“Are our regular plates okay or do we need the china ones?” he asks, still bent over.

“Why do we need china plates? Wait, why do you even have china plates with you in the first place?”

He looks over at you and shrugs. “Dunno. Minghao had a china cutlery phase, I think.”

That does sound like a phase Xu Minghao would have.

“The regular ones are fine.” You don’t want to risk breaking Minghao’s precious cutlery.

While Mingyu wipes the plates with a dishcloth, you grab two mugs and pour orange juice from the fridge into them. You take one in each hand and follow Mingyu to the kitchen table, placing both of them on either side.

“Orange juice?” Mingyu’s eyebrows are raised.

“Yeah. So?” you challenge him, raising your eyebrows as well.

But he doesn’t say anything against your choice of beverage, only shrugs and mumbles, “We should really stock up on alcohol.”

Your lips twitch. You don’t allow yourself to smile.

Instead, you pull your chair back and sit down, steepling your fingers in front of you. Mingyu piles some food onto his plate. For some reason, you feel weirdly nervous. What if it’s not as good as you think? What if he doesn’t like it?

You shake those thoughts away. This is Kim Mingyu. Even if the food was bad, he wouldn’t tell you; he would only grin, compliment your culinary skills, and continue to eat despite everything.

“Is it… good?” you ask tentatively, after he takes a forkful into his mouth and chews deliberately.

He waits until he’s swallowed before answering. “It’s great. Really good,” he affirms, and you can hear in his voice that he means it.

Well, almost.

It’s the slight dip and intonation of his tone, but it’s one you’re familiar with. You narrow your eyes at him. Mingyu continues eating, oblivious to your glare. In fact, he shovels more lasagne onto his dish and eats with more gusto, pausing every now and then to gulp down some orange juice.

“Really?” you say casually. “I’m glad. Maybe I should try some too.”

Mingyu’s reaction is so instantaneous, it’s almost comical. His eyes widen by a fraction, and he immediately reaches for the casserole. “You should definitely try some,” he says. “But it’s so good, I wanna have some more.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, watching Mingyu stuff more food into his mouth before deciding to put him out of his misery.

“Mingyu. Tell me the truth. How’s the food?”

He pauses, swallowing the food in his mouth and answering with a subdued, sheepish smile:

“It’s too salty.”

FOUR

“Why are you leaving so early?” Jihyo’s voice crackles through your phone placed on your bed.

“Seokmin said he wanted to try out the croissants at the new bakery that opened nearby,” you reply, fiddling with the buttons of your shirt. “He also said he wanted to buy a baguette so that he could whack his roommate with it. Something about going all the way to Paris to buy it but his roommate used it to hammer a nail into the wall and broke it.”

A pause, and then, “Is his roommate okay in the head?”

“Good question.” You grin at your reflection in the mirror, pat down the hair at the back of your neck, and grab your phone. “I’m heading out now. I’ll text you later.”

“’kay,” your best friend says. “Tell Mingyu I said hi.”

“I will,” you say, but you already know you’re not going to greet him on behalf of her.

Things between you and Mingyu are… still pretty much the same, honestly. After that dinner fiasco, you’ve been too embarrassed to properly address him, and he’s not made much of an effort on his part. Or maybe you’ve been consciously avoiding him so much that he doesn’t get a chance to put his foot forward. Either way, your cheeks still burn up whenever you think of that night’s dinner, so for now, hiding in your room is quite possibly the only way you can prevent yourself from catching fire completely.

Stupid logic. You’re a grown adult, with the ability to make good judgements and make decisions. Unfortunately, your decisions are mostly borderline idiotic.

Shouldering your bag, you leave your room and head to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. There’s a Post-It note stuck on the refrigerator. Peeling it off the fridge’s door, you read it curiously.

Got some cookies from Minghao’s friend’s bakery. I’ve kept them in the pantry. Enjoy! :) 

Mingyu’s familiar scrawl is branded into your head, and seeing the yellow square of paper makes nostalgia bubble inside your chest like a bath bomb dropped into a bathtub filled with water. You pocket the note, and smile so widely, your cheeks hurt.

Maybe he’s put his foot forward, after all.

Seokmin is already waiting for you outside your apartment building by the time you go out. He grins at you, his eyes crinkling in the corners and teeth flashing happily. 

“Hi,” you greet him. “Did you wait long?”

“No.” Your co-worker shakes his head, still smiling. “I just got here, actually.”

“I’m glad.” You return his smile. “Should we head out?”

Seokmin nods. “Of course,” he says, and you fall into step with him. 

He has a never-ending list of topics to talk to you about—and for the most part, you’re glad that he’s so outgoing. In twenty minutes, you’ve learnt almost everything there is to know about his roommate, Jeonghan, his older sister, his fear of ladybugs (you snort out loud at that particular anecdote), and his favourite anime (Haikyu!! and One Piece). In return, you tell him about that time you and Jihyo accidentally walked into the wrong restroom at a bar, and how you got dumped by your high school crush because he thought you were better than him at playing basketball.

It’s comfortable. Talking to Seokmin always is. 

But you still don’t talk about Mingyu. You try hard to stop thinking of him, but he’s always there at the back of your mind, an unopened gift that you don’t unwrap. 

Finally, you and Seokmin round a corner and find yourselves standing in front of the just-opened bakery. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafts through the open door. An array of different types of breads and other desserts is placed carefully on a display at the counter, and the owner greets you with a welcoming smile.

“What do you want to have?” Seokmin asks, holding your elbow and leading you in.

You eye the basket of croissants. The buttery confection looks delicious, but so does the tray of muffins placed next to it. And the bagels placed beside the muffins. “I can’t decide.”

“How about one of everything?”

You glance at him to see if he’s joking, but Seokmin looks completely serious. “You’re kidding, right?” you say, grabbing his arm. “There’s no way I’m going to let you buy one of everything in this store!”

“I would,” Seokmin admits, a flush creeping up his neck, “if you asked me to.”

You groan. “Seokmin. Please don’t.”

“Alright, alright.” He raises his hands in defeat. “I’m just saying, if you wanted me to—”

“One croissant, please,” you interrupt, addressing the owner. “To go. And he will have…”

“Make that two croissants,” Seokmin finishes. “I’ll have whatever the lady’s having.”

“How gentlemanly of you.”

“I know.”

Seokmin pays for his croissant, and you pay for yours. The owner wraps them up and hands them to you, asking you to visit again. Once you exit, you unwrap yours and take a small bite. The bread is soft and melts in your mouth, leaving a sweet aftertaste. You take another bite, and it’s only then that you notice Seokmin looking at you, a corner of his lips turned upwards in a crooked smile and one hand in his pocket.

“What?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious. “Do I have crumbs on my face?”

“No,” he replies. “I just… I would really love to do this again, Y/N.”

Oh.

Seokmin looks at you so hopefully. Like he’s been waiting for this opportunity for a long time. Like he needs to get something off his chest. Like he never wants this moment to end.

“...I’d like that, too,” you say.

Somehow, the words leave a bitter taste in your mouth, one that even another mouthful of the sweet snack can’t erase.

FIVE

It’s getting late, and yet Kim Mingyu is hellbent on getting you to keep him company. The worst part is that it’s working—though you would never admit that to him.

Being friends with your ex isn’t that uncommon. You and Mingyu can be friends. But how long are you willing to put up with this ruse before it all blows up in your faces? Friendship between two people who used to date isn’t that much of a big deal—but that’s just it, isn’t it? You and Mingyu weren’t just two people who used to date.

How did you even let him talk you into spending time with him? Or maybe that’s all on you; you’ve never been able to say no to him. One minute you’re looking at his face and remembering the lasagne gone wrong, the next he’s asking if you want to watch a movie with him. Except neither of you have updated your Netflix subscription, so this was a bad idea all along.

Maybe talking to Mingyu is a bad idea. 

Maybe you should go back to your old ways, locking yourself up in your room and only acknowledging his presence when you happen to cross paths. 

But the socialite in you nags, what if he thinks you’re some kind of hermit who only comes out to eat and drink? Besides, he’s here now, right next to you on the sofa—keeping a respectable distance between your bodies—as he watches a rerun of America’s Next Top Model because it was the least shitty thing playing on all the channels you scrounged through fifteen minutes ago. 

Normally, you would be elated at the idea of poking fun at random reality shows, expressing your exasperation at the poorly-written scripted drama and the even worse acting. But even if the showoff between two aspiring models both named Jessica and sporting the same colour of fake tan and bleached blonde hair was somewhat interesting, you find your gaze keeps wandering to your ex-boyfriend.

You trace the contours of his face with your eyes—the cheekbones that jut out only slightly, the furrow created on his forehead as his eyebrows kiss, the way his honey-brown eyes stare at the screen in front of him with a focused intensity. Even the way his lips curve ever-so slightly upwards, despite him pressing them together, has you recalling just how soft they felt against your own. 

His warm, soft skin. The prominent collarbone that you used to press small kisses to whenever you wanted to get his attention. The moles scattered all over his body, creating a canvas for you to paint on by tracing them with your fingers. The flex of his fingers as he bunches them into a loose fist.

Everything about him is so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time.

Even this semblance of friendship that has bridged the drawn-out distance between you both feels strange—as though somewhere in the back of your subconscious, you recognise that this camaraderie is either a really good thing or could go extremely wrong. You’re in the middle of that bridge, trying your best not to lean too much to the right or to the left, but even a slight misstep could lead to everything going downhill.

“Are you rooting for Jessice H. or Jessica C.?”

“Huh?” You blink, escaping your haze of thoughts. “I’m sorry—which one is which?”

Mingyu glances at you with a deadpan expression. “We’ve been watching them trying to one up each other for the past ten minutes.”

“Sorry.” You smile sheepishly. “Both of them look the same to me.”

“Fair enough,” he acquiesces, before returning his focus to the show. “It’s the fake tan, isn’t it? Although the hair is similar too… No wonder they’ve been arguing about who put on their mascara better—it looks identical.” 

You play along. “Or maybe it’s the supposed Gucci belts. I had no idea Gucci made handbags with fake crocodile skin.”

“The more you know…”

You laugh at that, and Mingyu looks at you—really looks, the same way he used to when you made a bad joke and giggled at it yourself. He looks at you with adoration written all over his face, in the upward twist of his lips and the crinkling in the corners of his eyes.

You clamp your mouth shut immediately, feeling a sense of nostalgia, longing and wistfulness seep into your skin, through your flesh and settle deep into your bones. 

Too much. It’s too much, and it’s way too early, and you don’t want to dwell on anything at the moment. So you do what you do best: You hide.

You tear your gaze off him and rub your palms on your old jeans. You hear Mingyu’s sharp intake of breath, but you force yourself not to look, not to think about him. 

“Hey, uh—I was supposed to call Jihyo right now,” you lie, and even you think it sounds lame coming out of your mouth, so there’s no way Mingyu can’t see through it.

“Y/N,” is all he says. 

You hate the way your chest clenches—just because he said your name—but what can you do? Escape the situation and never bring up the obvious elephant in the room?

Yeah. That’s exactly what you do. Making decisions isn’t your forte, but you’ll deal with the consequences of your actions later. Much, much later, if you can avoid it for as long as you’re living here.

You get up and make a beeline for your room, and Kim Mingyu doesn’t say anything to make you stop.

SIX

Whenever you faltered, Jihyo was your voice of reason. She would help you back to your feet, give you a solid nudge on your shoulder and list out the pros and cons of everything, allowing you to formulate your own opinion and come to a decision.

She isn’t being very helpful right now.

“Think about it,” she reasons. “Before, he was your ex. Now, he’s the guy you live with. You have to talk to him, no matter what.”

She’s right. She knows you know she’s right. You still refuse to acknowledge it, because pride comes before a fall, but you haven’t fallen yet. It’s more like you’re dangling off the precipice.

“How’s Jaehyun?” you say instead, referring to the guy she’s been crushing on ever since she moved to the new city.

Jihyo lets out an unimpressed sigh, the grainy image of her face on your phone screen contorting slightly. “Don’t think you’re being super smart by changing the topic, Y/N. And he’s fine. We went out for boba the other day.”

“Yeah?” You play with the fraying edge of the duvet thrown over your body. “That’s nice.”

Jihyo hums, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. “And then he asked if we could hook up.”

You guffaw. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She nods vigorously, affirming her statement. “I said no, obviously.”

“Why? Afraid he’s too much to handle?”

“Please,” your best friend snorts. “Have you seen him? I think I’m too much for him to handle. He couldn’t even pay for the boba without tearing his pocket because he was too enthusiastic in getting his wallet out.”

You smile thinly. Jihyo might be poking fun at the man, but you can tell from the twinkle in her eyes and the way her voice is filled with infectious joy that she’s enamoured by him. You wish you could meet him in person. Instead, you have to settle for checking out his Instagram profile.

“Anyway,” she continues, stifling a yawn, “it’s late and I have to head out tomorrow. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” you say. “Good night. Don’t dream of Jaehyun.”

She flips her middle finger at you and you roll your eyes, pressing the end button. Just when you’re about to fluff your pillow so you can lie down, you hear a knock on your door.

“Y/N?” Mingyu sounds remarkably active, considering the fact that it’s currently fifteen minutes past midnight. “Are you awake?”

Curiosity compels you to answer honestly, “Yeah. Is everything okay?” 

You tread over to the door, swinging it open. Mingyu is in his sweatpants—a pair you know he only wears for bed—and a loose graphic T-shirt. You’re wearing pretty much the same attire, except your shirt is an old one, worn-out from your high school days, and it doesn't fit you that well anymore. You tug the hem over your hips consciously.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Yeah, everything’s okay. I was just…” He pauses, raising a hand and ruffling his hair. “Do you wanna get some ice cream?”

Of all possible things you expected Mingyu to ask you, this certainly wasn’t one of them. You blink, bemused. 

“Or—or we don’t have to,” he backtracks, when you don’t say anything immediately. “I was just craving something sweet, that’s all—”

“Okay,” you say, surprising yourself with your answer. Mingyu is trying to extend the olive branch you placed in between you both, and you have to appreciate that. Regardless of your personal feelings. Besides, Jihyo was right—he’s the guy you live with, and you need to be able to spend time with him. As friends. Nothing more.

“Okay.” He exhales, relieved. “It’s right across the street.”

“I think I know the one you’re talking about.”

The ice cream parlour is a ten-minute walk from your apartment, but walking with Mingyu makes time fly. He says something about mint chocolate being an underrated flavour, and you insinuate that it deserves to be, and just like that, conversation flows between you both as though your past is some kind of a fever dream.

Where Seokmin is a bright ray of sunshine lighting up your way on a cloudy day, Mingyu is moonlight, skittering over your figure and providing solace in the dark. Seokmin is infectious laughter and gleeful smiles; Mingyu is whispered jokes and shared silence.

Perhaps it’s those very qualities that made you fall so hard for the man next to you. You know for sure it’s those very qualities that still have you in his grip, even though he doesn’t know it. Maybe that’s why talking to him is awkward—because how do you move on from someone who captured your heart and kept it for safe-keeping but know that there’s one big, gaping hole in your chest where his heart is supposed to be? Even now, a small part of you belongs to Mingyu, like a little token which he’s kept locked up and hidden the key.

Six months is a long time, but neither you nor Mingyu seems to be able to bring up what happened. Maybe it’s for the best, you think. You would rather have a small bit of this domesticity that feels familiar than have everything blow up in your face because of the harsh words you exchanged.

You ignore the tightening in your chest and focus on the warmth pooling in your stomach when Mingyu grins and offers you a chance to redeem yourself when it comes to good ice cream flavours. You say mint chocolate is tolerable, but only because Mingyu likes it.

SEVEN

Seokmin drops by your cubicle almost every day now. He offers to drop you back home, too.

Each time, you smile but decline politely. You still feel guilty about saying that you would like to spend more time with him as well—but in your defence, you didn’t really lie; you do want to spend more time with him, but only as a friend. Seokmin didn’t specify how exactly he wants to go out with you.

It’s getting harder to say no, however. Seokmin is everything if not persistent, and his determination to take you out has you crumbling under his forlorn gaze and pleading words.

He doesn’t make your heart beat faster, or make butterflies erupt inside your belly. Being with Seokmin doesn’t come with bright fireworks or flashy songs. It’s finding the extraordinary in the mundane, and laughing yourselves silly over jokes that aren’t even that funny.

So. It’s not Mingyu, but Seokmin is nice and friendly and stable, and you think you can fall for him. You and Mingyu aren’t going to cross the threshold of friends ever again, anyway. There’s nothing stopping you from going out with Seokmin.

“Okay,” you say when he asks you again, a half-resigned look on his face when he assumes you’ll just say no again. 

The way his expression morphs to elation is worth it, you think. He surges forward, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers into your ear, and the joy he feels is infectious—as most good things with Seokmin are—so it’s no surprise that your cheeks are already hurting from smiling too hard.

When you update Jihyo about the latest turn of events, she tuts disapprovingly and says, “Have you told Mingyu?”

“No,” you say, feeling defensive. “I don’t have to tell him, do I?”

Your best friend waits for a beat. “You don’t, I guess.”

Mingyu interrupts your call then, and you quickly tell Jihyo you’ll text her later. He stands in the living room, holding up a pair of button down shirts, one in each hand, forehead creased and mouth downturned.

You lean against your doorway, amused. “You called?”

His face clears as he looks at you, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “I have this work event I need to attend tomorrow, but I don’t know what to wear.”

You observe the shirts he’s holding up. One is cream in colour, long-sleeved and ironed neatly. The other is black, with a thin white stripe along the collar and sleeves.

“The black one,” you say immediately. And then feel your cheeks heat up with your quick answer. In your defence, Kim Mingyu has always looked alarmingly handsome in black. Objectively speaking.

“I haven’t worn this one in a long time.” He brings it close to his face, squinting at it. “It probably stinks.”

“Smell it, then,” you say, chuckling at the mortified look on Mingyu’s face. “What? You’re telling me you’ve never worn your underwear inside out because you forgot to do the laundry? This isn’t that different.”

“I have never done anything of the sort.” He sniffs petulantly at you, before his eyes narrow. “Wait. Does that mean you’ve worn your underwear inside out?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Gross. I thought you knew me better than that.”

Mingyu tenses up at your offhand comment, and you look down, wondering why that even slipped out of your mouth in the first place. Of course you screw everything up just when things are going decently well. 

“I do,” he mumbles. “I do know you better than that.” When you look at him, he has a wan smile on his lips. “Which is why I’m going to trust your judgement and wear the black shirt. Even if it’s musty from sitting in the back of my closet for so long.”

“Oh, shut up,” you huff, walking over to him and grabbing the cloth out of his hand. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He only raises a single eyebrow at you.

That’s what prompts you to sniff at it. At his goddamn shirt. Like you’re one of those police dogs they use to find missing people.

It… doesn’t smell unpleasant. A little bit musty, like Mingyu said, but that can be attributed to him not wearing it often. Mostly, it smells of faint fabric softener and deodorant—and underneath it all, a scent that is solely Mingyu’s. (Pine and citrus and lavender, all mixed together, in a way that only Mingyu can pull off.)

“It smells fine,” you say, shoving it into Mingyu’s chest. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m not the one who grabbed it and shoved my face into it,” he says, “so who’s the real dramatic one here?”

“I didn’t shove my face into it!” You swat at his shoulder, but he laughs and dodges, eyes twinkling with playfulness.

“If you say so,” he returns, still chuckling to himself.

“When is this event?” 

“Tomorrow evening,” he answers.

“Both of us won’t be at home then,” you say, and he raises an eyebrow. “I… have a date tomorrow,” you explain, and regret it almost instantly. Why are you even telling him that? He doesn’t need to know.

“Oh,” is all he says, followed by a quieter, “Have fun.”

EIGHT

Seokmin picks you up at exactly six o’clock, wearing a loose button down shirt and slacks, and his hair styled carefully. He perks up as soon as you wave at him, jogging over to you with a smile.

“Hey,” he greets you. “You look good.”

You return his smile, tugging at the edge of your blouse and smoothing out your skirt. “Thank you. So do you.”

Seokmin’s grin brightens, which you didn’t even think was possible. “Thanks,” he says, and then gently takes hold of your elbow. “So… the plan for today is to take you out for dinner, and then a movie. How does that sound?”

“It sounds… good,” you say, letting him lead the way. It’s basic, yes, but you’re a firm believer in clichés—there’s a reason they become popular, after all.

He doesn’t stop talking, and neither do you. Throughout the entire half an hour dinner in some hole-in-the-wall diner that Seokmin discovered a month ago and serves the best blue lemonade mojitos you’ve ever tasted, and the entire two hour movie that’s way too boring for you to focus on the screen anyway, you and your co-worker keep up an endless stream of banter and silly anecdotes and you find yourself enjoying it more than you thought you would.

It’s refreshing, and when you and Seokmin finally make the walk back to your apartment, you find it difficult to let go of his hand. He pulls you to a stop in front of the building, rubbing his thumb gently across the back of your hand. 

His smile is as bright as ever, albeit tinged with slight disappointment. “So. I’ll see you on Monday, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, nodding. “Thank you for today, Seokmin. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” he returns. “Listen, I—”

He’s interrupted by someone stumbling across the sidewalk—not someone, you realise. It’s two people, tightly coiled around each other in a manner that is entirely indecent for the public eye. But as they trip around one another—still holding each other tightly—your heart sinks deep into the pit of your stomach.

One of them is Mingyu.

The other person is some girl, hair falling loosely across her face, Mingyu’s fingers tangled into her tresses, while his other hand bunches up the material of her dress at her waist. They kiss and kiss and kiss, and you don’t tear your eyes away until Seokmin makes a noise of disgust.

He turns around, blocking your view of them and takes both your hands in his. “I… I’ll call you. Okay?”

You nod numbly. “Okay.”

Seokmin leaves with a bright smile and a lingering kiss on your cheek. You plaster a smile onto your lips until he moves out of your line of sight, after which you begin the arduous trek back to your—Mingyu’s—apartment. Normally, the three floors you climb aren’t much of a strenuous task; tonight, however, every step you take makes you feel like your legs are made of lead. 

You fumble in your purse for your key, the image of Mingyu kissing that girl not leaving your mind. It’s not supposed to hurt, you’re not supposed to be bothered by it. But it stings, like the biting cold on a freezing winter morning, making your fingers stiff and your ears chilly.

You hear footsteps right when you twist the key into the lock.

The last thing you see before you enter the apartment is Mingyu clambering up the staircase, clearly drunk but surprisingly upright. He has a lipstick stain leading from the corner of his mouth to his cheek, his hair is tousled—no doubt from someone running their hands through his silky locks—and his shirt is untucked and wrinkled.

He opens his mouth to say something, but you grab the door handle and step inside, because the last thing you want to confront is the fact that your feelings for Kim Mingyu might not be as forgotten as you believe.

Which is fine, all things considered, except Kim Mingyu doesn’t give a damn.

You let the door slam shut behind you before Mingyu can get in. Technically, it’s his house. Technically, he’s the one who has the right to lock you out.

Technically, you’re acting like a child throwing a tantrum, and technically, Mingyu is allowed to kiss whomever the fuck he wants. 

You wish Jihyo was here. She would ground you, make you see everything calmly and rationally. But she’s been having boy problems of her own (Jeong Jaehyun, who is decidedly not as romantic as Jihyo was led to believe), and the last thing you want is to dump your boy problems on her.

Besides, it’s no big deal. Right?

Mingyu lives here. He should have his own copy of the keys. He’s also drunk. (Drunk and half-laid, your mind helpfully reminds.)

Before you start overthinking about letting the door close behind you, you decide that what you really need is a warm shower. So you let your feet lead you to the bathroom directly, and don’t allow thoughts of ex-boyfriends and overly friendly co-workers to enter your brain.

You don’t hear the sound of keys turning in the lock the entire night, but you shove down the guilt that bubbles up your throat. It’s Mingyu’s fault for not carrying them with him wherever he goes; you’re not his caretaker, anyway. 

Your phone pings with a text message from Seokmin, and you pick it up.

(19:47) Seokmin: I had a great time today. Thanks for coming with me :) 

Despite the fact that you only have a towel wrapped around your body, and the fact that your hair is dripping wet, you feel a tingling warmth creep up your chest. 

NINE

Monday is a horrible day.

You woke up half an hour later than usual, which led to you rushing through your morning routine. Your clothes aren’t ironed, which is fine usually, but the shirt you pick doesn’t tuck in quite right and you don’t have the time to change it. You almost tripped over the curb in your rush to get to work and nearly spilled a cup of coffee—which is far too sweet for your liking, due to the dollop of sugar you added by accident—all over yourself. Your manager, Choi Seungcheol, doesn’t approve of the project portfolio you compiled, and the deadline is fast approaching, which means more late nights for you.

And to top it all off, your car engine won’t fucking start.

You’re really not in the mood for Seokmin and his exuberant enthusiasm, which is something he probably catches onto, considering the fact that he stands silently next to you, waiting for you to finish cursing the piece of metal you call a car. Once you’re done resisting the urge to burn down the automobile, Seokmin places a placating hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, training a concerned gaze over your figure. “I can drop you back home.”

“No, it’s fine,” you mutter sullenly. “I’ll just call a cab or something.”

“Y/N, please. It’s no trouble.” He pauses, and you glance at him, at the sympathetic crease of his forehead and the genuinity reflected in his eyes. It’s touching, and Seokmin flashes you a small smile. “I was gonna head over that way anyway—I wanted to get some stuff from that bakery we went to.”

“I—” You hesitate, and he takes the chance to slide in.

“You call the mechanic. I’ll wait for you in my car, okay?”

He scurries away, leaving you biting your lip and staring at your phone. You should probably call Mingyu; he can help. Knowing him, he would probably want to help, regardless of who was asking him. Instead, you search up the nearest mechanic shop and dial in their number, giving them the details of where you are. They arrive a couple of minutes later, and you watch as they hook your car onto their big tow truck and drive away.

Seokmin waves you over to his car, a sleek Hyundai that's probably a few years old but still looks brand new. He opens the door to the passenger seat with a smile before grabbing the stack of folders you had kept clutched to your chest. You let him take them. You’re far too tired to argue.

Briefly, your mind wanders to Mingyu—what he would do if you had told him. Probably run all the way here, your brain supplies, prompting a wry smile to form on your lips. You press them together when you think of Mingyu with that girl immediately afterwards.

The drive to your house is silent, only the rumble of Seokmin’s car and the soft noise of some interview playing on the radio filling the silence. He pulls to a stop near your apartment, bundles up your work folders in his arms and gestures for you to lead the way to your flat. 

The door swings open before you get the chance to pull out your key. Mingyu stands opposite you, dishevelled—just woken up from a nap, it seems. His mouth parts when he sees Seokmin standing behind you.

“Who’s this?” he asks by way of greeting.

You shift uncomfortably, wanting to say something, but the words stick to your throat like you’ve swallowed chewing gum. Seokmin reaches out from next to you, and you don’t need to see him to know he’s positively beaming.

“Hi, I’m Seokmin,” he says. “I work with Y/N.”

Mingyu shakes his hand, eyes roaming quizzically between you and Seokmin. “Nice to meet you,” he says distractedly. “I’m Mingyu, Y/N’s… roommate. And ex—”

“Come on in, Seokmin.” You glare at Mingyu. He only raises an eyebrow in retaliation. Seokmin coughs slightly, blows out a puff of air, and follows you inside.

“You can just…” You wave your hand around vaguely. Gritting your teeth does nothing to bring you out of your haze. It only exacerbates it.

“Did something happen?” Mingyu moves aside, but you feel his eyes on the back of your neck.

“Y/N’s car broke down,” Seokmin supplies. “It’s at the mechanic’s right now, so I offered to drop her back home.”

“I see.” His next statement is directed at you. “You could’ve called me. I would have come.”

It’s only then that you turn around and face him. He doesn’t move, gaze locked unwaveringly on your hunched-over figure. It’s almost like he’s challenging you to say something.

“I know that,” is all you say, voice low.

Mingyu nods. “Good.”

You avert your attention to Seokmin. He appears lost, gaping at both of you as though he can’t quite catch onto what’s going on. “Let’s go to my room, Seokmin. You can leave my stuff there.”

“Okay.” Seokmin nods, giving Mingyu a hesitant smile. “It was nice meeting you, Mingyu.”

“You too.”

It’s a tiny exchange, but it’s enough to cause a fissure inside your heart. Seokmin is always so nice. He gives out niceness like he’s handing out free candy to toddlers. The only time you’ve ever seen him get remotely angry was when another co-worker of yours forgot a pen drive containing a crucial presentation to an important client—even then, all he did was level a glare at her before calmly asking for a backup drive to be brought.

Mingyu, on the other hand, is like a burning ember. Calm one minute, and angry the next—and it’s the reason you love him, but it’s also the reason you broke things off. You and Mingyu are far too similar, hot-headed and careless to a fault, like two candle flames competing to see who can burn their wick the fastest. You didn’t burn the wick. You ended up burning each other instead. Let it not be said that playing with fire isn’t one of your specialties.

Seokmin lets out a breath that sounds like a huff and a sigh simultaneously as soon as he enters your room. “You can leave the stuff here,” you say, pointing at your desk.

He obliges, carefully placing the stack on the table. “That’s your roommate, huh? Y’know, when you said that you were living with someone you didn’t like, I didn’t think you meant your ex-boyfriend.”

You look away, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s… difficult. I needed a place to live and he was the only person who offered on short notice. It just happened.”

Seokmin nods understandingly, lips pursed in thought. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is,” you agree. “One of the nicest people I know.”

“Yeah?” Your co-worker lifts one corner of his lips in an amused half-smile. “What does that make me?”

The answer is on the tip of your tongue. You know Seokmin is expecting it. Hell, you’re expecting the words to just come out. The nicest guy of them all. That’s all you have to say.

“You’re… Lee Seokmin.” 

The words are flat on your tongue. Seokmin’s expression falls—just the tiniest bit, a crack in the foundation—but you feel a terrible weight in your stomach, pulling you down, down, down until your head sinks below the surface of the metaphorical waves and the water erases your existence. 

Seokmin is a nice guy—you know that, and you’ve reiterated it so many times. The only thing stopping you from being in a proper relationship with him is your ex-boyfriend, only separated from you by a wooden door and cement walls. Mingyu doesn’t like you anymore, not in the way he used to, and it’s clearly time for you to stop dwelling on what you had.

You swallow, looking at Seokmin directly. “And…” You take a step closer to him. “I consider myself lucky to have met you.”

Seokmin looks at you, his gaze unsteady, but he takes one of your hands in his. “Yeah?” His throat bobs when he speaks, and that’s how you know he’s nervous.

“Yeah,” you confirm, letting his fingers slip in between yours. 

He shuffles closer to you, and you can smell his woody cologne intermingled with sweat. You can count the moles on his face, see your reflection in his pupils. 

“Y/N, I really want to kiss—”

There’s a knock on your door, and you and Seokmin jump away from each other like a pair of schoolchildren getting caught doing something you’re not supposed to. Seokmin looks down at his feet; you clear your throat before letting out a hoarse, “Yes?”

“You left your phone outside,” Mingyu calls. “The mechanic just called.”

“Oh, um. I’ll be right there.” You turn back to Seokmin, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Of all possible times for Mingyu to be a cockblocker, why now? “S-sorry about that.”

“No, it’s—you’re fine,” he stammers out, clearly as out of it as you are. “I should probably leave too, I still need to stop by the bakery.”

“Oh, yeah!” you say. “I forgot. Do you want me to come with you?”

“It’s alright,” he says. “It’s getting dark outside and you need to get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you murmur. “Thank you for today, Seokmin. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Cursed your car to oblivion, probably,” he teases.

You flush, heat creeping up the back of your neck and ears. “That—you didn’t have to see that.”

“I thought it was cute,” he returns easily, corners of his lips twitching. 

Against your will, your lips twitch upwards too. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

Seokmin opens your door, and you follow him out of your room. He gives Mingyu a grin, says, “See you around,” and lets you close the door behind him. 

Mingyu crosses his arms over his chest. You glance at him. His eyebrows are knotted together, lips pressed into a stoic line. You bite the inside of your cheek, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Hey,” he begins, voice soft, “is that… your boyfriend?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Does it matter?”

He huffs, shifting from one foot to the other. “Yes—no. No, it doesn’t matter. I was just curious, okay?”

You open your mouth, then close it, at a loss for words. Are you and Seokmin together? Not really. Both of you haven’t done or said anything to define your relationship—if there is one in the romantic sense, at least. Seokmin wanted to kiss you, but Mingyu interrupted before anything could even happen—it’s your irritation at the day being shitty, and Mingyu being an asshole after everything he did that makes you roll your eyes at him and snap at him. “It’s none of your business.”

Mingyu’s face turns stony, a hardness to his features that you’ve only seen a few times before—it was directed at you the last time, too. “Okay. Fine. Sorry I asked.”

“Are you?” you retort, and before he can say anything to retaliate, you storm back into your room and lock the door.

Your heart feels like it’s been split into two, one half yearning for the comfort and familiarity that comes with still liking Mingyu, and the other excited to explore what Seokmin could offer you—and what he already has offered. But for now, you decide to get some sleep. Your heart can wait.

TEN 

Jihyo is back.

Jihyo is fucking back, and she’s standing in your—Mingyu’s—living room, arms wide open and a grin on her lips so wide, her eyes crinkle in the corners. It takes all of your willpower not to launch yourself into her arms. Instead, you slow down, toe your shoes off, let your bag drop to the floor, and then launch yourself into her arms.

She laughs at your overzealous demeanour, and you giggle into her hair. God, you’d missed her. Texting every day and video calling every weekend can only do so much, and it’s nothing compared to seeing her in person.

“Hi,” she says, pulling back enough to escape your cage-like hold around her body.

“Hi,” you greet back, smiling so wide and so hard, you can feel your ears pop. “You’re back.”

“I’m back.” She confirms your statement by nodding. “Only for a week, though.”

“Ah.”

Your best friend lets out a sheepish chuckle, and you take a step back. Her suitcase is on the floor next to her, and she’s kept her backpack on the sofa. “Are you gonna stay here?” you ask.

She winces. “No, there isn’t much space here. I booked a room at a hotel nearby. It’s, like, ten minutes by walk from here and it’s not very expensive either,” she assures.

“Okay,” you say, a little deflated. If Jihyo stayed with you, at least the awkwardness between you and Mingyu might be reduced by a small fraction. Her overbearing nature and ability to make conversation with literally anyone would be a lifesaver, given the situation you’ve dug yourself into.

A situation that she knows nothing about.

You haven’t had the time to keep Jihyo updated about the latest turn of events—not when she was busy juggling a relationship with her sort-of boyfriend, Jeong Jaehyun. She doesn’t know about Seokmin, and she doesn’t know about your lingering feelings for Mingyu.

“Hey, you’re back already.”

Speak of the devil. 

You turn around and find Mingyu leaning against the doorway, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. You feel your breath hitch. He continues, “I guess Jihyo already beat me to it, huh?”

“You knew she was coming?” you ask him, almost accusatory. 

“You didn’t tell her?” Jihyo echos, a curious tinge to her tone.

He lifts his shoulder in a half-shrug, lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile. “Wanted to surprise you, that’s all.”

Against your will, you find yourself grinning at him. Mingyu dissolves in the slightest—a small hint of surprise—before he grins back at you, teeth flashing and eyes crinkling. Jihyo lets out a small huff from next to you, but you know nothing can put a damper on your mood right now. Not even your resurfaced feelings for Mingyu, nor your newfound ones for Seokmin.

Your best friend squeezes your arm. “I have some time before I need to check in at the hotel. Do you wanna check out our old place?”

You turn to her and nod. The prospect of going back to the place where you created cherished memories with someone so dear to you is enticing; then you remember your car is still at the mechanic’s. “My car is out of commission.”

Jihyo only turns and stares at Mingyu. He sighs resignedly, pushing himself off the doorway and heading inside his room. “Let me grab my keys.”

“Might as well stop for ice cream along the way,” Jihyo calls out gleefully to his retreating back. 

You gulp. This… might not be a good idea. If Mingyu tags along with you, this would be the first time since last week where you’re speaking to him normally, making conversation that isn’t just along the lines of “Did you do the laundry?” or “I bought some vegetables”. Of course, if you told Jihyo what happened, she would immediately make sure Mingyu doesn’t come. You chew on your bottom lip, but before you can come to a decision, Mingyu emerges from his bedroom, car keys dangling off his fingers.

“Ready?” he asks.

Jihyo grabs onto your arm, excitement so visible on her face that it prompts the tension in your own features to melt away. You let yourself get carried away by her giddiness, not noticing the fond glances the only male in the group keeps giving you whenever he’s sure you’re not looking. If you’d met his eyes once throughout the drive to your old place, you’d see the way his eyes still twinkle at you with the same intensity as they did months ago, but you’re too busy catching up with Jihyo to notice.

Mingyu pulls to a stop in front of your old apartment building—a dilapidated structure that’s not half as modern as the current building you stay in. At least the elevator is still functioning; you purse your lips to contain your laugh when Mingyu looks at it, eyebrows raised in visible astonishment. Jihyo grips your hand tightly when you reach your floor. You tighten your hold on her hand as well, feeling a sudden burst of emotion erupt inside your chest like lava escaping from a volcano.

You and Jihyo round the corner to the apartment that used to be yours, Mingyu following closely. The door is the same dull brown it was back then as well, but someone has put in the effort to redo the varnish. There’s a potted fern next to it as well. 

You let out a shuddering breath. Jihyo wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close; you aren’t sure if it’s just the wind rattling through the open window, but you hear something like a sniffle.

This is the place you lived in when you had your first boyfriend, when you had your first heartbreak, when you cried your lungs out at some stupid TV show that you were invested in at the time but can’t possibly remember the name of now. This is the place where you and Jihyo bonded over crappy supermarket deals and made a mess of the kitchen whenever you tried to learn how to cook something new.

This is the place where you first met Kim Mingyu.

You tilt your head at him, watch as he stares resolutely ahead of him, like if glares at it strongly enough, he can bore two holes straight through the wood. Eventually, his eyes land on yours.

His lips part but no words come out. He offers you a small smile instead, one so tender and heart-warming and achingly familiar. You blink, and the moment is gone. You’re left with the same sense of wistfulness and longing that you always feel around him. 

Jihyo squeezes your shoulder, eyes shining. “Should we ring the bell?” she asks, and then presses the doorbell before you can respond.

A muffled “Coming!” from inside, and the latch is pulled open to reveal a college student—a few years younger than you, perhaps, with sleep bags underneath his eyes and a cup of coffee clutched to his chest. He looks confused—as anyone would be, you suppose, when you see a random bunch of strangers standing on your doorstep—but his expression clears when Jihyo explains who you are and why you’re here.

He says he’s living here with his boyfriend and their pet cat—a beautiful Siberian who coils itself around his legs, tail upturned—and you feel your heart swell with the knowledge that your old haven is being taken care of well. Jihyo consistently badgers him with questions and he answers each one patiently, to his credit. 

A flicker of uncertainty crosses your mind, however. Does Mingyu not remember this? He was looking for apartments in this building, too, when you met him. Doesn’t he remember the old landlady conversing with you? Doesn’t he remember the way people constantly asked if you two were together, which is what even prompted him to ask for your number in the first place? 

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when you feel a slight pressure on your shoulder. Mingyu’s hand is on your shoulder. Your gaze flits over to him. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, ducking his head. “There was a mosquito.”

He’s lying. 

He remembers. 

ELEVEN

“Spill.”

“The… tea?” you ask cautiously, looking at Jihyo. She’s holding a steaming mug of tea in her hand.

“You think you’re so funny.” She rolls her eyes.

“I know I am,” you quip, and she rolls her eyes again, taking a sip of the beverage.

“You’ve been distracted since yesterday,” she states matter-of-factly. “Since we went to our old place.” Her voice quietens, “Is it Mingyu? Did he do something?”

You eye her warily, sitting down on the plush armchair opposite her. “No,” you say.

“Then what is it? Did—did you not want me here?”

“No.” You’re quick to alleviate her concerns. “Of fucking course I wanted you here. I missed you. So much.”

Your best friend smiles at that, swirling the tea in the mug. “But something’s bothering you.”

“...Yes.” You admit it slowly, playing with your fingers splayed out on your lap. “It’s not important. You’re here only for a few days, we should do something fun.”

“Y/N,” Jihyo says slowly, enunciating every syllable of your name like she’s speaking to a troublesome child, “if you’re worried about me feeling bad or anything, please don’t. I want to help you.”

You wave her away. “You have your own shit to deal with.”

“What, you mean Jaehyun?” She snorts. “I’m over him. I was over him ages ago.”

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Just.” You look down at your feet. “You really liked him, didn’t you?”

Jihyo cocks her head to the side, studying you carefully. “Yes. I did. What about it?”

Your shoulder slump, dejectedness seeping into your figure. “How… did you do it?” You glance up at her, note the way she observes you carefully. Your voice is almost pleading when you continue, “How did you get over him?”

Your best friend’s expression clears, comprehension dawning on her face. She places her mug down, leaning forward and clasping your hand with hers. “It’s Mingyu, isn’t it?”

You shake your head miserably. “Not just him.”

“There’s someone else?” She doesn’t sound surprised, only intrigued and concerned.

You take a deep breath, lock gazes with her—and everything comes spilling out of your mouth like the tide receding into the ocean. You tell her everything, about Mingyu and Seokmin and how conflicted they make you feel; how one is like the living personification of sunlight on a gloomy day, and the other reminds you of clouds providing shade on a hot afternoon. You tell her about how guilty you feel, as though you’re leading Seokmin to believe that you’re ready for a committed relationship when a part of your heart still belongs to Mingyu. You speak until the words end up garbled and slurred, and your breathing turns heavy and salt water streaks across your cheeks, your best friend rubbing them away with the pad of her thumb.

When you don’t know what to say, Jihyo pulls you into a hug—it’s an awkward position, your elbows locked around her arms while your neck is bent at an odd angle, but it’s comforting, and you let your eyes close tiredly. 

“Y/N,” she says, rubbing her thumb on your shoulder soothingly. “I know it’s hard for you to decide, but you have to know: What do you want?”

The question makes you contemplate. What do you want? 

“I don’t know,” is all you can get out, slumping further into her arms.

She hums softly. “But you’ll figure it out. I know you will.”

Will you? You’re not so sure. Maybe when the time is right. But for now, you rest your chin on your best friend’s shoulder and let her rub circles onto your skin.

You pull back when the position becomes too uncomfortable—you can already feel a crick in your neck—and Jihyo wraps her fingers around her discarded mug. She raises it in a half-hearted toast. “To sexy girls who don’t need men in their lives.”

You giggle, rubbing your eyes. “Men are pieces of shit, anyway.”

“Damn right they are,” she croons, falling dramatically back onto the couch. “We should just get married instead.”

“If you propose to me the right way, maybe I’ll consider it.”

Jihyo grins at you, and it’s infectious enough to make you grin back at her. “Consider it done,” she says. “I have a ring in my nightstand drawer with your name written on it.”

“If it’s not pure diamond, I won’t accept.”

“Tsk. So greedy.”

TWELVE

Introducing Seokmin to Jihyo was not a part of your agenda for the week.

But it’s Seokmin and it’s Jihyo, so really, what else did you expect? Both of them integrated themselves seamlessly into your life, and they have no plans of leaving anytime soon. Might as well get the introductions over with.

Ironically, it happens when you go to collect your car from the mechanic’s, and once they’ve exchanged names and small talk, Jihyo and Seokmin are inseparable. The former regals him with tales of your college shenanigans, while the latter listens enthusiastically, eyes flitting between you both amusedly.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you hurriedly interrupt the conversation, right before Jihyo can go into the messy details of how you wanted to marry the toilet when you were drunk once and Mingyu had to physically carry you out of the house because you were convinced the white ceramic was proposing to you.

“You and Mingyu were together for a long time, huh?” Seokmin asks you quietly, once Jihyo is finished with her sulking at you interrupting her story. She’s at the side, conversing with someone on the phone, leaving you and your co-worker alone in front of your car.

You’re so startled by the question, you nearly drop your keys. “I—why do you ask?” 

Seokmin licks his lips, a seriousness to his figure that you haven’t witnessed many times before. “Just… curious, I suppose.”

You look down once, see how he’s twisted his fingers together—even the Lee Seokmin gets nervous, after all—and look back up at him. “Yes,” you admit softly, voice hitching slightly, “we were. We… were in love, I guess you could say.”

He’s silent for a minute, tongue darting out to lick his lips again. “And now?”

“I don’t know, Seokmin,” you answer him honestly. Your heart flutters inside your chest, while your stomach twists into tight knots—two reactions you didn’t think would go hand-in-hand, yet here you are, leaving your heart bare for Seokmin to take while gatekeeping a part of it to yourself.

He raises his head, warm eyes capturing yours. You see the smallest flicker of hope and sadness, two thin wisps of emotion dancing in his eyes—but even then, his lips are turned upwards, because it’s Lee Seokmin. 

“But you could try?” he asks, so softly you can barely catch the words.

You push down the emotions that threaten to swallow you whole, swirling around your entire body like the blood that flows through your veins. “I don’t know,” you say again, no less honest than the first time.

He opens his mouth, but Jihyo walks back to you both, mouth downturned. “My company said they need me back as soon as possible.” She says it calmly, but disappointment and bitterness seep into her voice.

For a moment, you freeze, and then ask, “When do you need to leave?”

“Tomorrow,” she answers with an apologetic shrug of her shoulders. “They’ve already booked the flight.”

“Okay.” You nod. “I’ll drop you to the airport.”

“I’ll come with,” Seokmin chimes in, and adds, in true Seokmin fashion, “Make sure Y/N doesn’t drive us all into a ditch or something.”

You shove his shoulder, muttering an “asshole” under your breath, and his smile only widens. Jihyo glances in between you both, lower lip caught between her teeth, before she sucks in a breath and smiles. “Good to know my best friend is in good hands.”

“The best hands, actually,” Seokmin teasingly corrects. 

You roll your eyes at the two of them. “Can we go home now, or not?”

“Home it is,” Jihyo agrees, “but first, I demand Taco Bell.”

“Fine,” you concede, letting her grab the keys from your outstretched palm. 

Seokmin grabs your hand once she clambers into your fixed car. His palm is broad, skin warm, and his fingers wrap around yours with ease. He squeezes your hand once, gently, and it feels like a promise and a farewell at the same time.

Seokmin asks you out again three days after Jihyo leaves. 

This time, he takes you out to an Italian restaurant. He’s dressed up in a suit and a bowtie—and actual blue velvet bowtie that sits snugly at the hollow of his neck—and he’s the perfect gentleman, pulling your chair out for you and pouring champagne into your glass like a professional. (When you compliment him on his drink-pouring skills, he just mutters bashfully about how his dad taught him that to please a lady, you need to be good at pouring drinks; it does nothing to ease the quickening pace of your heart.)

Lee Seokmin compliments your dress, says that that specific shade of pink looks beautiful on you. He recommends you try out their vegetable lasagne, says it’s one of the dishes the restaurant is famous for. He laughs about his favourite show, tells you he would love to rewatch it with you someday. He asks if you like gardens because his neighbour is trying to convince him to grow a rosebush outside his house, but he can’t look after plants even if his life depended on it. He wants to go out for ice cream afterwards, but the night is too chilly for the cold dessert so you opt against it.

Throughout, you play someone who’s on her first date, who thinks this is all there is and everything she’s been dreaming of has come true.

You would like to think you’re a good actor.

Kim Mingyu has seen you in nothing but sweatpants and old t-shirts and he used to whisper praises against your skin, flushed with sweat and sweet words. He ate the shitty lasagne you made without complaining, no matter how bad it tasted. He watched whatever was playing on television with you, just because he enjoyed your company and wanted to be wherever you were. He’s not particularly good with plants, but he has a little succulent named Spurt, making sure it gets enough sunlight and water. He likes mint chocolate ice cream, and would defend the flavour with his life.

Kim Mingyu and Lee Seokmin: Two sides of the same coin.

Jihyo’s question resonates in your mind as you and Seokmin walk back to your car.

What do you want?

As you near your vehicle, Seokmin puts a gentle hand on your arm. “Y/N,” is all he says, and you hate the way your chest clenches at that—just because he said your name.

“Did you have fun today?” he continues, eyes roaming over your features like he’s committing you to memory. Like a soldier leaving his wife before he heads out to the frontlines.

“I did, Seokmin. I really did.” You place your hand over his, tracing the veins on the back of his hand, pressing lightly on his knuckles; you need him to know that you truly enjoyed today—desperate for him to know, because it’s the least you can do for him after everything he’s done for you.

“Good,” he says. “I—I had fun today with you, too. I always have fun when I’m with you, Y/N.”

He bends down. You can feel his breath fan out on the shell of your ear and it makes you shiver. He turns his head, and his lips brush against your cheek. A small, soft farewell. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t—” you begin, feeling your voice begin to wobble.

“Don’t be sorry,” Seokmin whispers, but he sounds firm. “We’re still friends.”

Your heart plummets deep, deep down, a free fall that isn’t orchestrated by gravity. You think you know the answer to Jihyo’s question now.

“Thank you,” you whisper back to Seokmin.

THIRTEEN

The light is on when you enter the apartment. Mingyu’s figure lies hunched on the sofa, head in his hands, a half-empty beer can next to him. You quickly shuck off your heels and drop your purse onto the shoe rack.

Your ex-boyfriend looks at you when pad over to the living room. “You’re back.” He sounds hoarse, tired. 

“Have you been drinking?” you say in return, raising an eyebrow. 

Mingyu glances at the can in his hand then back at you. “Yeah. Long day.”

“Me too,” you admit quietly.

Perhaps it’s the quiet ambience of your shared home—silent, despite the noise of the city outside—that compels him; or maybe it’s the idea of coming home to someone you think you know better than the back of your own hand. Either way, when Mingyu pats the cushion beside him, your feet move automatically and you sit down, letting out a weary sigh.

It’s quiet, but not in the awkward sense. Not like back then, when Mingyu thought you and Seokmin were dating. Not even when you visited your old apartment. Exhaustion makes its home in your bones, and you suspect it’s taken over Mingyu too; there’s no way this shared piece of night can be so comfortable otherwise.

“Want some?” he asks after a few minutes.

“No thanks.”

Mingyu shrugs and puts the can down on the coffee table. “Wanna talk about it?” He leans back against the sofa, arms crossed behind his head.

“No,” you answer, and then, “Do you?”

“No.” He clears his throat, glancing sideways at you. “Were you with… Seokmin?”

“...Yes.”

You don’t have to look at Mingyu to know he’s clenching his jaw. It’s a pure rush of adrenaline that makes you ask, “Why does it bother you so much whenever I’m with him?”

Silence.

You turn your head, cheek brushing against the back of the sofa. Mingyu’s eyes are closed, hair falling in loose strands around his forehead and neck. You wonder what he’s thinking.

His answer excites you—in the rawest form possible. Anticipation builds up in your chest, threatens to explode through your windpipe. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but when he opens his eyes and meets your gaze, there is nothing you can do to stop your heart from rabbiting inside your rib cage.

“It doesn’t,” he says finally, an air of decisiveness about him.

For the second time that night, your heart plummets, and you tear your eyes off him. “Okay,” you say. “That is, um, good information to have.”

“Isn’t he your boyfriend?” 

“How does it matter to you?”

Mingyu crosses and uncrosses his ankles, this time staring resolutely at the floor. “I don’t know. It just does.”

You purse your lips. He isn’t being fair to you. “What about you?” you demand. “What about that girl you almost brought back home, huh?”

His mouth twitches. “You saw that.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“I’m not blind, Mingyu,” you retort.

Your roommate lets out a sardonic chuckle at that, slowly dragging his eyes up. “I highly doubt that.”

“What do you mean?” You scowl at him, feeling your chest begin to heave. “You—you’re like some kind of a riddle, Mingyu. I can never tell what you mean by anything, and it’s even worse now that you’re drunk and—”

“I’m not drunk, Y/N,” he interrupts. 

“I don’t care if you’re drunk or not—” you don’t realise your voice is caving in, growing softer and softer by the second— “stop saying things you don’t mean.”

“I want to kiss you,” he says finally. “I want to kiss you and I may be slightly drunk, but I don’t fucking care. And I mean it.”

You swallow, blood pounding through your veins. “Say that again.”

“What?” he says, sounding genuinely confused. His gaze never leaves your face, every ounce of earnestness and honesty written plainly on his features.

“Say it again,” you repeat.

“I want—”

You surge forward, capturing his lips with yours, pressing them firmly against his even when he lets out a muffled gasp. He doesn’t kiss back immediately, but his hands find their way to your waist, gripping tightly and crumpling the flimsy material of your dress. He kisses you back then, mouth jutting insistently into yours, tongue sliding against your lower lip. You arch your back, scramble to find some balance in this precarious position, and your hands end up tangled in his hair. He tastes like beer and aftershave and something that’s so distinctly Mingyu, you want more.

You pull away when air becomes a necessity, blinking even as Mingyu’s arms pull you closer to him.

“This isn’t over,” you manage to get out in between huffed breaths.

“Tomorrow,” he promises, but his eyes are glazed. He looks at you like a man starved, and tilts his head and kisses you again, kisses you like he might never see you again. 

You let him. It’s Kim Mingyu, after all, and you’ve always been a little weak for him.

You don’t think of Seokmin; don’t let him come out of the tiny pocket you’ve preserved in your heart just for him. Instead, you wrap your arms around your ex-boyfriend’s neck, leaning into his chest and kissing him back with equal fervour, letting him know that you need him as much as he needs you.

God, you’d missed him. Way more than you thought. You’ve memorised his touch, branded it into your mind, but it still feels new. Like the first time you were with him, kissing like two teenagers with reckless abandon. 

His cold fingers find their way underneath your waist, hitching up the loose material of your dress around your thighs. You kneel on the couch cushions in front of him, almost straddling his lap but not quite. His fingers brush against your sides in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

He nips at your lip, asking for entrance to your mouth to which you accept, parting your lips enough for him to get a taste. As he moves his tongue around yours, exploring your mouth in every way possible, you can’t contain the slight whimper that escapes your throat. 

Mingyu groans, leaning his weight onto you as you both start moving together until you’re laid flat against the couch. He’s impatient, you can tell; his fingers dig into your skin, and he groans again when you bite down gently on his lower lip. He pulls back and moves downwards, kissing your jaw and behind your ear, suckling gently on a sensitive bit of skin with expertise. “Tell me to stop,” he says, whispering the words against your skin.

All you do is moan in response, rubbing your thighs together to get some friction with the way he’s moving his mouth against your skin. 

“Tell me to stop,” he says again, more firmly this time.

“Shut the fuck up, Gyu,” is all you reply with, the nickname falling out of your lips with familiarity. 

Maybe it’s the use of something that used to be your thing—something the two of you shared, the shortened version of his name—but hearing it come out of your lips again does things to Mingyu that he isn’t sure he’d ever be able to put into words for you. Trailing his movements down to your neck, he stops at your chest, a small smile spreading on his face. “Forgot how much I loved it when you called me that.”

Looking down at him, you hadn’t realised he’s moved further down your body and his fingers trace the edges of your underwear. Your dress is bunched up above your thighs, skin exposed to the cool air. “Gonna make you feel so good,” he mumbles, pressing a tiny kiss to the inside of your thighs. He toys with the elastic of the waistband, chuckling when you shoot him an irritated glare.

He stares down at your clothed core, mouth watering while his hands move faster than you can comprehend. It takes him two seconds to hook his slender fingers underneath the waistband of your panties before he pulls them down to your ankles and tosses them onto the coffee table. 

You feel a wave of shyness overcome you—with the way he’s looking at you, desperate for your taste—and you try to close your legs, before his hands land on your thighs, halting your actions. “So pretty,” he murmurs. “I want to see all of you.”

Heat burns your cheeks and flows through your body. You turn your head to avoid his burning gaze as you feel him part your legs. He readjusts himself, laying as flat and comfortably as he can with what little space he has on the couch until he’s face-to-face with where you need him most. He tests the waters, leaning in with his tongue out, letting it graze your clit. You stifle a moan, biting your lip so hard, you think it might bleed.

He smiles, loving how you’re holding back. “So quiet, baby. Wanna remember how I used to make you feel.” Laying his tongue flat against your clit, he gives you slow and soft strokes—so gentle that it drives you insane. 

“You’re such—such a tease,” you gasp out, right when he swirls his tongue around the nub.

Mingyu only raises an eyebrow at that. “You haven’t changed.” But all the same, any plans he had to be patient with you go straight out the window; he wraps his arms around your thighs to pull you down further to his face. The sudden pull surprises you, and you gasp a little while searching for something to grab onto. He indulges in your pussy, tongue exploring your pulsating hole that clenches around everything and nothing all at once. He relishes in the way you feel on his tongue, groaning against your folds while bringing a hand up and rubbing his thumb on your neglected clit. 

You’re a mess under his touch, squirming on the sofa, loud groans and soft mewls escaping your lips wantonly. Your fingers find their way into his soft locks, pulling gently on his hair and scratching against his scalp. He lets out a moan against your pussy, lapping at your juices as if you’re his last source of water. “F-fuck, Gyu, ‘m gonna—” a gasp— “‘m gonna cum.”

This only encourages him to work his mouth harder, wanting to watch you fall apart just by his mouth alone. You tug harder at his hair, moans growing louder and more desperate by the second, and your thighs shudder around his head, feeling the rush of your high come so close, you aren’t prepared for it.

With two final sucks to your clit, you come undone on his tongue followed by a string of moans with broken pieces of his name somewhere in between. Mingyu looks up at you with bright eyes and a satisfied grin, as if he didn’t just eat out your pussy like he would never get the chance to again. The mixture of saliva and your juices dripping down his chin makes your eyes widen even as you squint down at him. 

With careful, deliberate motions, he moves away from you, the grin on his face replaced by a more serious expression. You sit up, leaning on your elbows. The aftermath of your passionate actions catches up to you; reaching over, you snatch your panties from the coffee table and swing your legs over. Throughout, Mingyu doesn’t say anything. He only watches, in that quiet, observant way of his, swiping at his mouth and chin with a tissue he grabbed from the tissue box next to the couch.

You glance at him. Is he going to say something? Or is he going to let you walk away again, with all the words you want to say to him lying on the tip of your tongue, always there but never released?

“Y/N.” He scrambles to his feet when you stand up, clutching your underwear in one hand and adjusting your dress with the other. He sounds… uncertain. Completely unlike the Mingyu who cockily asked you if Seokmin was your boyfriend, or who joked around with Jihyo like it was second nature to him.

You bite your lip. “Yes?”

“Do you… do you want anything? Water?” 

You melt a little at his words like an ice cream left out for too long. Kim Mingyu, always so kind, always so caring—you know that better than anyone. 

He can be cruel too, in the way he chips away at your already broken heart. He doesn’t know it but he does—lift your hopes only to let it all crumble down. Like how he broke the promises you made to each other, and how you broke the words you’d sworn to say to him alone.

It hits you again, how you and Mingyu were meant to be, and how lonely it was when he left. You wonder if he feels the same way—did he spend sleepless nights in bed, thinking of you? Did he ever think that if he could travel back in time, he’d do it all over again?

You shake your head no at him. He doesn’t say anything after that, but his lips part slightly. He watches you as you walk over to grab your purse and head inside your room.

That night, you don’t sleep at all—despite wrapping yourself up in your Looney Tunes comforter and the comforting weight of your pillow beneath your head that usually puts you to sleep instantly. 

Instead, it feels like the very first night you and Mingyu broke up all over again.

SIXTEEN

You don’t tell anyone about what transpired between you and Mingyu. It remains hidden between you both, a secret neither of you are willing to bring up.

Jihyo is back to work at her new city, now completely devoid of boy problems of any sort, since Jeong Jaehyun has shifted his affections to another co-worker. (“It’s better this way,” she tells you, “he didn’t want a committed relationship, anyway.” You can tell she’s truly not bothered by it, so you grin and agree.)

Seokmin doesn’t come around to your cubicle the way he used to earlier, either. Your days at the office are dreary and boring, now that your co-worker’s sunshine smile isn’t there to keep you company. In fact, the only person who still talks to you voluntarily at work is your boss, Seunghcheol, but even then it’s mostly just a sympathetic smile he offers you followed by a new deadline or a project.

You and Mingyu are back to whatever it was you had when you first moved in, before the lasagne fiasco. Not talking to each other, but not not talking to each other either. You swerve around each other in tandem, finding more and more excuses to avoid whatever happened in between you both. He lied when he said he would talk to you about it the next day, after he ate you out on the couch.

You can’t blame him completely; you’ve made no effort to reach out to him, either.

Weariness seeps into your skin with every passing second. You rub at your already half-closed eyes and hide a yawn behind a closed fist. The letters on your laptop screen swim in front of you. The stack of folders next to it drags a tired sigh out of your lips.

You’re so tired. Not just physically, but emotionally you’re drained out, all the liveliness sucked out of you like someone vacuumed up the inside of your heart. The lack of sleep is getting to you; the lack of someone to brighten up your days is getting to you more.

If you and Seokmin were still on a talking basis, he would have sauntered over to your desk by now, hands in his pockets and the same question on his lips: “Coffee break?”

He’s not here now, probably tucked into his corner of the floor. Maybe his smile is directed at someone else. Maybe he’s taking someone else on the daily ritual that you used to consider yours. Maybe it’s time you get out of your fucking swivel chair and get some coffee.

You’re not doing it alone, of course. No, coffee at the office—no matter how shitty the machine is and how long the line for the coveted caffeine is—is yours and Seokmin’s thing. Besides, he said you’re still friends; it’s time for you to step up.

Stifling another yawn, you blink slowly before pushing yourself off your chair. It occurs to you that you don’t know exactly where Seokmin’s cubicle is—he’d mentioned it was by Seungcheol’s room once. You decide to start there.

It doesn’t take you long to find Seokmin. You walk into him—literally walk into him. A startled gasp leaves your lips when you collide into someone’s chest, an apology already on the tip of your tongue.

“Are you okay?”

You blink once. The voice is familiar. You direct your gaze at the person you bumped into. 

“Seokmin,” you breathe out weakly.

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “The one and only.”

“I-I’m sorry I bumped into you,” you quickly apologise. “I was on my—”

“It’s okay, don’t apologise,” he interrupts. “I should’ve looked at where I was going too.”

“How… have you been?” The question spills out before you notice, and you realise that you’re genuinely concerned about his wellbeing. You’ve missed him, missed his companionship. 

Seokmin looks briefly surprised that you’ve asked him. He clears his throat, once. “Oh, um. I’ve been fine—y’know, the usual. Work, home, sleep and then repeat. How—how about you?”

“I’ve been better,” you admit. “You look tired, though.”

He lifts his hand and rubs his cheek with an accompanying embarrassed chuckle. “You could tell?”

He has bags underneath his eyes. His shoulders sag ever-so slightly. His usually perfectly styled hair isn’t as neat as it used to be. You nod. “You look exhausted.”

“Ah.” Another embarrassed chuckle; you can tell he doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“Coffee break?” you offer, a small, lopsided smile gracing your lips.

This time, the smile Lee Seokmin gives you lights up his eyes.

SEVENTEEN

“This is ridiculous!” you call out for the nth time, glaring at the door with as much intensity as you can muster.

“Jihyo’s orders!” Seokmin calls back, from outside the room. “I have proof that she asked me to lock you two up in order for you to talk it out.”

Mingyu huffs out a breathless laugh from behind you. He’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, sheets crumpled and pillow on his lap. You turn around to level your glare at him.

“Give it up,” he advises.

“Don’t even.” You pinch the bride of your nose, closing your eyes in exasperation. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault? No one told you to tell Seokmin everything!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know he would go and tell Jihyo?” you splutter out, opening your eyes and bringing your hand down. “I didn’t even know they’d exchanged numbers!”

“Might as well get it over with,” Seokmin’s voice travels through the barricade once more. “The sooner the better.”

“I didn’t ask you, Seokmin,” you mutter.

“He’s right, you know.” Mingyu pats the space next to him, inviting you to sit down. “If Jihyo hadn’t forced him to do it, I would have found some way to do it myself.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” you retort. “You’ve been avoiding me since the day we—since the day we kissed.”

“I would have tried,” he reasons. “But since you’re here now, can you at least please listen to what I have to say?”

“Oh, so now you have things you want to say,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. Regardless, you sit down next to him. You’re curious, you will admit. This conversation could potentially break your heart, or it could also change the trajectory of your relationship with Mingyu.

Your ex-boyfriend takes a deep breath before beginning.

“The other day, when I said I wanted to kiss you—I wasn’t lying, Y/N. I truly meant it. I’ve wanted to kiss you the minute I laid eyes on you again. I wanted to hold your hand, to take you places around the neighbourhood, to come back home to you.

“I thought we were making progress. I thought we were friends again, and I could somehow win your heart back.” A wry smile crosses his lips. “But then Seokmin came by, and you both just seemed so close. He—he brought back this life in you; your eyes sparkled whenever he was around, and you were always smiling when you were with him. I never saw that after we… after you moved in. You were always so jittery with me—understandably so—and I… I let my jealousy of seeing you with Seokmin get the better of me.

“That day, when I—” he pauses, glancing at you; his eyes are imploring, and you sense that he’s laying himself bare for you— “when you saw me kissing that girl, I did it on purpose. To make you jealous. And then I saw the look on your face, and even when I was drunk, I knew I’d fucked up. So I left her, and I followed you back inside—you closed the door just as I caught up with you. I called up Minghao, spent the night at his place. I think that’s when I realised completely that I—that I still love you.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. Your heart is hammering inside your chest. You can’t believe you’re actually hearing these words.

Mingyu swallows. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. Even after we broke up, even after all the things we said to each other—some part of me knew that I shouldn’t give up on you. I have loved you throughout. I will continue to love you throughout.”

He looks down, staring at his hands. In that instant, he looks so small. Vulnerable. As if giving his entire heart to you on a silver platter isn’t enough. As if he’s giving all of himself to you, mind, body and soul.

You need to tell him that your mind, body and soul have always been his.

“Mingyu,” you begin, watching as his eyes travel over to yours uncertainly, “you absolute fucking idiot.”

His lips twitch up briefly. “Wha—”

“I love you, too, idiot.” The words rush out breathlessly. “I never stopped.”

Mingyu’s eyes widen and his mouth opens imperceptibly. You continue, “I knew this would happen. The minute I stepped foot into your house, I knew I would fall for you all over again.”

You reach out and grip his hand, needing something to tether you against him. “And I did.” A watery laugh escapes your mouth. “I fell in love with you all over again.”

A pause, and then Mingyu’s free hand cups your cheek, skin warm against yours. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Mingyu smiles at your confession—a full smile, with his eyes crinkling in the corners and his lips turning upwards. He leans forward. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

You beat him to it, covering the distance between you both with one swift swoop. You capture his lower lip in between yours, hands resting on his shoulders to steady yourself. He kisses you back with equal fervour, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you impossibly closer. You close your eyes and slide your tongue across the seam of his lips, smiling when he lets out a silent groan. 

He only pulls away once he needs air, but even then he doesn’t let you go. He pulls you forward, making you straddle his lap as he kisses your cheeks, your nose, the column of your throat. You relish in his touches, tangling your hands in his hair and tugging gently at the silky strands.

“We should probably stop,” you whisper, when a particularly sharp nip at your neck elicits a soft moan from you. “Seokmin’s standing outside.”

“Fuck him,” Mingyu says. He presses another kiss on your jaw, looking up at you like you’ve hung up all the stars in the universe.

You roll your eyes affectionately at him. “C’mon. I don’t want to scar him for life.”

“Who cares?”

“I care,” you say, slowly getting off his lap. Already you can feel the absence of his warmth. 

“Fine,” he agrees, once you stand up fully and brush yourself off. “I love you.”

Warmth shoots up your chest and onto your cheeks and neck. Your heart swells, and you find yourself grinning involuntarily. “I love you, too.”

“Good.” Mingyu stands up and pecks your cheek. “Now let’s go save Seokmin from his misery.”

(Later, if you find Seokmin with bright pink ears as he pointedly avoids yours and Mingyu’s gaze, that’s no one’s business but his.)

EIGHTEEN

Mingyu sucks on a sweet spot right underneath your ear and you can practically hear his smirk when you let out a whine. You fist your hand in the sheets, feeling the soft material crinkle underneath your fingertips. 

“Such a tease,” you whisper out.

He lowers his head, nips at your neck and then runs his tongue over the spot, soothing it. “So you’ve mentioned.”

Your retort dies on your lips when he moves lower and lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your collarbones and shoulders. You whine again when his fingers find your nipple, pinching the bud lightly in between his thumb and forefingers. He moves lower, breath ghosting over your abdomen and belly button, until he finally comes face to face with your clothed pussy.

He hooks his finger into the waistband of your panties, nails scraping against your skin. You squirm under his touch, lifting your hips to help him pull the flimsy garment down your legs and toss it to the side. Mingyu sucks in a breath sharply when he sees your exposed cunt—despite already having seen it before, and you feel a rush of pride at the fact that you still have this effect on him. “So pretty,” he murmurs, eyeing your folds hungrily. 

Mingyu works on your clit expertly, thumb rubbing against the nub, eliciting a loud moan from you. He licks a stripe up your folds, grinning when your hand automatically finds itself in his hair again. When he finds you’re wet enough, he slides a finger in. You inhale sharply, hole clenching around the digit. He circles his thumb around your clit once more, before sliding another finger in.

You gasp at that, tightening the hand in his hair. Mingyu leans forward, swiping at your clit with his tongue one more time and pulling both his fingers out at the same time. He relishes in the sounds coming out of your mouth, feeling proud that you’re not trying to hide anything from him. You’re completely under his mercy, as is he when it comes to you.

He slides both the fingers back in, hissing when your walls contract against them, pumping the digits in and out a few more times. The way you moan—because of him—makes him finger your hole faster, enjoying the way your moans increase in pitch. When he sees your eyes beginning to cloud over, Mingyu quickly withdraws his fingers. You whimper at the loss of his touch and he chuckles. “Patience, baby. Don’t want you to cum just yet.”

Your head falls back on the pillow and you mutter a string of incoherent words under your breath. “Look at me,” Mingyu tuts.

You lift up your neck curiously. Mingyu waits for your eyes to land on his lips before he slowly, deliberately puts his two fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digits and licking your juices off. He doesn’t fail to notice the way you bite your lip at the sight.

Once he pulls his fingers out, Mingyu bends down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Are you even gonna fuck me, Gyu?” you grit out, and his eyes widen.

“Call me that again,” he orders. 

“Fuck me, Gyu.” Your voice is borderline a whimper, and, well—who is Mingyu to prevent you from getting what you desire? After all, he’s always been a little weak when it comes to you.

He gets on his knees, holding his throbbing cock in his hand. He pumps it a few times, groaning softly, before positioning himself at your entrance. “You’re on the pill?”

“Yes.” You nod almost desperately, waiting for him to slide it all the way in.

Mingyu enters you slowly—the pace is almost unbearable—but he shudders when he feels your walls against his dick. You grab onto his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh. A loud moan escapes your lips when he jerks his hips forward, his cock pressing into your cervix. Your eyes screw shut, and Mingyu grunts, pulling out and thrusting back inside with more force. Almost unconsciously, you wrap your legs around his hips, granting him more access to your hole and allowing him to push himself deeper inside you.

He leans down and captures a nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue around the pebbled bud. You gasp out moans wantonly, and it spurs him to thrust faster and faster inside you. He watches you fall apart on him, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips when your moans become interspersed with chants of his name. 

Your grip on his shoulders tighten and the muscles flex under your hold. Your cries reach a crescendo with one particularly sharp thrust; Mingyu can tell your climax is approaching.

He speeds up, pumping into you with as much strength as he can muster. Your nails leave white-hot trails along his back, his shoulders—you try to hold onto him as best as you can. You cry for more, beg him to keep going. A bit redundant, in his opinion—he has no plans of stopping until you’ve orgasmed. 

Mingyu thrusts into you one last time, throwing you over the edge. Your walls clench around his cock tightly, black stars floating in your vision as you cry out his name. He pumps into you weakly, letting you ride out your orgasm while chasing his own high. He buries his face in your neck, breathing heavily, and when your walls tighten around him, he comes inside you, his movements coming to a pause. 

You stroke his sweaty bangs away from his forehead, both of you catching your breaths. He remains sheathed in you, even as he pulls you onto your side so both your chests are touching. 

“Feel good?” he asks, one hand carding through your hair gently.

You let out a tired, but satisfied hum, smiling softly at Mingyu. 

You spend the night curled up in his arms. He sleeps soundly next to you, eyelashes brushing against his cheeks and hands wrapped protectively around your figure. The steady thrum of his heartbeat sounds against your ear, and you smile, even in your sleep.

NINETEEN

“You have your thinking face on.” Your boyfriend saunters into the kitchen, a knowing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes at him. 

“You can’t tell me you don’t see it too,” you say pointedly, waving your wooden spatula at him.

Mingyu chuckles, moving over and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. He presses a sweet kiss to your shoulder. “What, that Seokmin and Jihyo are meant to be? That smells amazing, by the way, love.”

“Yes,” you huff out, stirring the soup inside the pot boiling on the stove. “And thank you.”

From the living room, you can hear your two friends laughing over something you couldn’t possibly begin to comprehend. Jihyo still lives in another city, but she comes over to visit whenever she can. You and Seokmin remain friends, and he often comes over whenever you, Mingyu and Jihyo decide to hang out—though, you suspect his enthusiasm to join you three has more to do with one particular person rather than the entire group.

“If you say so,” Mingyu agrees. “I think they’re just friends.”

“Friends don’t look at each other that way,” you say matter-of-factly.

“Really? I seem to recall him looking at you the exact same way not too long ago.”

“That’s different, Gyu. Here, can you taste some? I don’t want it to be too salty.” Grabbing a large spoon, you dip it in the pot and offer it to Mingyu.

He obliges, letting you shove the spoonful into his mouth—and yelps almost immediately. “Ouch! You didn’t tell me it was hot.”

You only raise an eyebrow at him, but a small hint of amusement dances in your eyes. “How does it taste?”

Mingyu rolls his eyes at you but rests his chin on your shoulder; his hair tickles your ear. “It tastes amazing as always, love.”

“You’re sure? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?”

“I’m offended you think I would lie to you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you deadpan, and it makes Mingyu giggle.

“I’m serious, it tastes good.” He smiles at you, peeling himself away from you. “Let’s go join the other two.”

“Coming.” You put the stove on simmer and grab Mingyu’s extended hand. His fingers slot in between yours easily. Your lips curl upwards on their own accord, and your heart feels so full, it’s close to bursting.

You’re there, in a room with all your favourite people, and it’s perfect.

The very first night you and Mingyu broke up is pushed to the back of your mind, never to slip out of the corner you’ve tucked it into. The nights after made up for it, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. You rebuild the promises you made and make new ones along the way.

You’d write it in the sky if you could, but you and Mingyu don’t need that. 

[biteofcherry]

Forage and grind

orc!Curtis Everett x female reader

summary: You always felt like you belonged there. Naively, you even felt safe. But when his silent observation snaps into action and you learn why you caught his interest, belonging starts to hold more terror than longing.

warnings: orc!Curtis; dark!Curtis; heavy dub-con; captivity; thigh riding; rope bondage/shibari; suspension; oral (f receiving); fingering; unprotected sex; heavy breeding kink; size kink; hints of degradation;

word count: 5k

Author's Note: I'm a bit late with this installment in the Scaretale universe, but life happens and you gotta deal with it 😜 Some parts of this story I'm happy about, some not so much. You judge for yourself.

Shards of light bounced off the golden coin, sending flickering butterflies of yellow around. The club was a glowing, warm space, but you always appreciated the additional reflection or spark, especially those tossed your way. 

You grinned, catching the coin mid air. You slipped it into the little pouch hung by the belt around your waist, where it softly clinked as it met a few other shiny tips you’ve been given that evening. 

Scaretale had the reputation of a place of mystery and horror, which you never understood. Granted, being filled with a variety of creatures (some of which were barely contained beasts) made it somewhat scary, but you never felt that shiver of wariness that so many of your friends, or people in general, experienced. 

As you moved around the club’s floor you felt warmth and a particular, restrained camaraderie. Not safety, exactly, but something akin to familiarity. 

The interior was elegant, fancy even, combining human modern design with the lush mystery of dark magic born in the heart of ancient woods and meadows. It was not only aesthetically pleasing to the eye, but called to your heart with a reflection of something hearty from the old times before you were born. 

It was that obsession with medieval stuff, as your friend called it, rolling her eyes. And she claimed that you applying for a job at Scaretale was taking that obsession way too far. Especially since, in her eyes, the creepy haunted-mansion-like club had nothing in common with medieval, or even renfaire vibe. You wondered if her eyesight was skewed. 

You felt drawn to the Scaretale, as you were to the monsters’ realms themselves. Not fascinated, but simply drawn, as if you knew you belonged there. 

Which is why you were stubborn and pushy when you approached Ransom with your brilliant offer to work there as a waitress. 

Something he was clearly disinterested with. 

At first, at least. Because as you listed your experience from human establishments you worked when in college, Ransom’s eyes twinkled with sudden recognition. That shifted into a dark sort of excitement, which for a split of a second made you wary. 

You may have found Scaretale as a place where you felt comfortable, but its owner wasn’t someone you’d ever let your guard down around. 

All that mattered was that he agreed and you found yourself hired as the only human in a monster club. With monsters’ silver and gold coins, it turned out to be a quite well paid job, too. 

Though you felt in your element when moving between booths and nooks, your instincts still reacted to some of the creatures with more fear and caution. You learned who was more approachable and open to conversation, or teasing (like the satyrs who always flirted and regularly tried to talk you into joining an orgy), and who was better served quickly and subserviently (a growly werewolf, for example). 

Some monsters came only once, snatching their match and leaving. Some were regulars, seeking fun and new bodies to debauch. 

There were also regulars whose agenda you never figured out. And you tried not to be too curious about it.

A group of enormous, beefy orcs visited every two weeks, or so. Though they were restrained in the way they talked, when they walked through the club everyone seemed to tense in fear. 

Orcs were the most known warriors. Bloodied, ruthless, ripping worlds to shreds. As a human your knowledge was limited, but from snippets heard here and there you learned that their race raided many kingdoms and realms in the past millennia. Nowadays they were more like mercenaries.

With the occasional brutal raid for their own benefit. 

They came to the Scaretale cleaned up, but you still could easily imagine their bodies splattered with the enemy's blood. Not to mention the glint of weapons always present at their side, which made your skin crawl with trepidation. 

Your instincts often whispered caution when you waited for some of the creatures visiting, but when it came to these orcs the alarms were ringing loud. 

It wasn’t just prey sensing a predator prone to snap its teeth, but a sense ingrained into your blood like voices of the generations passed. 

It always skyrocketed when you felt the burning gaze of the biggest orc following your every move. 

He appeared to be the leader; it was clear in the way their group lined when cutting through the club, as well in the way they sat around the table. Not to mention that one time when you picked their orders from the bar and the bartender pointed at one of the beer mugs saying that one was for the war chieftain.

His mug was bigger than the rest and the foam floating on top sprinkled with crushed juniper berries. An unusual combination of flavor, you thought, but didn’t pay it much attention. 

Or rather, you tried your best to not pay it attention.

Which was hard to do when you felt his eyes following your every move and when you had a full body shiver reaction upon seeing that monstrous figure whenever you served the orcs’ table. His biceps alone were the size of your whole head. You were sure that he could crush your skull with just one of his big hands. 

The other orcs were large and intimidating, but their war chieftain surpassed the scary level. 

Still, you schooled your features and played a polite waitress role. You even encouraged yourself with a little inward game of pretending to be a medieval inn beer-maid. After all, the setting was perfect with the Scaretale’s vibe and a group of sword-and-ax wielding warriors as your customers. 

That night, however, as you were about to bounce from one served table to theirs to take their never changing order of limitless beer, you found that four of the orcs had already left. Or disappeared for the moment. But there was still one left at the table.

Their leader. 

The one scaring you the most. Always intently observing you with those piercing blue eyes. 

His pale, green-tinted skin made those inhuman irises stand out even more. There were some faint, green markings along his cheeks, but you didn’t know if it was a part of his natural pigmentation, or some sort of a deeply ingrained tattoo. 

Orcs were said to be unkempt beasts, but his beard was groomed. Thick and dark, bearing flecks of gray. His lips were a shade of pale pink, wide and plump, and spreading where two white lower canines grew out into sharp, tusk-like features. Unlike his companions, who had their hair braided, or cut into mohawks, he had his hair buzzed close to the scalp. 

He had one of his elbows resting on the table, thick fingers rapping slowly against the wood. His other arm was thrown across the backrest of the seat. Though in rest, his muscles were bulging; evoking a flicker of terror at the thought of him actually flexing and using those massive arms as he fought. 

Compared to him, you were small and fragile. 

Despite certain aspects of the size difference turning you on, you’d rather not test those urges with someone as dangerous and brutal as the orc. 

Hair on the back of your neck raised in alert as you neared the table. His gaze was on you for a while now, but it felt scorching hot the closer you came. Mustering an easy smile, you asked him if he wanted the usual (always that damn beer with juniper berries). 

“No.” His gruff voice rolled over you like a lick of thunder. “I’m done with poor substitutes.”

A frown marred your face. You didn’t understand what he was referring to. The Scaretale’s beer came from the best breweries and was spiced with some extra fae herbs. No customer has ever complained. 

Also, you didn’t think this orc would quietly stand for something he didn’t like the slightest bit, and he was regularly drinking that beer. 

Suddenly, a large hand wrapped around your wrist and you were yanked forward. 

With a gasp, you landed on his thigh. Your legs parted as your center settled atop a thick, leather-covered thigh. He held your wrist in one hand, while settling the other on your waist. You weren’t a tiny creature by any means, but his huge palm seemed to span your entire side. 

“Do you know that orcs are most known for raiding elven kingdoms?” He asked in a hushed tone, as if he was sharing a secret with you. You shook your head in response. 

As you learned of different monsters, when it came to the orcs you often stumbled upon art depicting huge beastly warriors doing explicit things to elven maidens, but you thought it only to be a kink many humans liked to think of, disregarding actual history and nuance. Especially, since you never met or heard of an actual elf existing.

Honestly, you suspected it was also humans’ fault - twisting the information on fae folk and coming up with new names for the subspecies.

“For riches and land, like with any other realm, but-” his fingers dug a little deeper into your skin and he pulled you along his thigh, making you gasp. “The main reason was to capture elven maidens.”

“There was something about the elven women that was irresistible to us. How fragile they were compared to orcs in size. How sweet and wild they smelled. How tight their holes were around orcs’ massive cocks.” 

He grunted out the last part, once again drawing your body forth on his thigh. With your legs spread and layers of your skirt too thin to provide cover, hard muscle of his thigh and the rough edge of leather pants he was wearing grazed your sensitive clit. 

“It’s still believed that elven cunts are the ripest for orc seed. Taking it so well and bearing many healthy babes.”

There have been some encounters with a few openly lustful visitors in the Scaretale, but none breached the boundary with you. No one grabbed you and put you into his lap, and made you grind against their thigh while they revealed obscene details behind their species’ primal behavior. 

This orc acted as if he had the right to move your much weaker body anyway he pleased. If he merely toyed with you, perhaps you could twirl away with the excuse of your duties awaiting. However, there was something about the way he treated you that rang a different kind of alarm. 

“Chieftain-” you placed your hands against his wide chest, trying to squirm away.

“Curtis.” He gripped you tighter and bounced his leg, making you moan as the meat of his thigh crushed your clit. “My name’s Curtis.” 

While you would welcome any customer telling you their name with a cheeky smile, this orc wanting you to know it and use it when you addressed him was like sealing your fate. 

You froze as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, taking a whiff of your scent and sweat. He groaned in delight and the sound of it vibrated down your chest, puckering your nipples into stiff points. 

“And you hold the unmistakable fragrance of juniper berries bathed in dew, my little elfling.” 

His words rolled over your body, trailing fear in their wake. It was no random sentence to make about you. Not after the brief recap of filthy history he treated you to minutes ago. 

His intense obsession made sense now. A terrifying sense. Impossible, too.

“I’m human!” You protested, fighting with all your might against the fate he laid out for you, before you even knew it would concern you directly. 

“You are,” Curtis didn’t deny it, “but somewhere in your lineage an elf mixed their blood with your human ancestors. That gene sparks intensely in your body.”

There was never any tale, not even a secret family anecdote that regarded a relationship with a magical creature. If it was a scandalous romance, it was hidden well, too. You could call bullshit. Claim it was a lie that Curtis used to grope you and have his way. But with how intensely he was always observing you, how he acted now, despite previously shown restraint, you had a feeling he wasn’t tricking you. 

Then the memory of Ransom near cackling with glee after studying you for a longer moment resurfaced. He didn’t want to hire a human, he had no interest in it. But if he sensed you were part elf and he knew orcs were his regular customers…

Yeah, Ransom wouldn’t pass that opportunity for mayhem and his own gain. 

“Please?” You looked up at Curtis. “Let me go? I- I have work to do. And-” 

Your words turned into a muffled moan when plush lips suddenly crushed into yours. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. The way Curtis’ mouth took yours was barbarous; a shard of that savage pillaging he boasted about. 

You felt the pressure of his tusks against your face, but surprisingly neither even nicked your skin. His tongue plunged between your lips in a savage thrust - as disgusting as it was, something about it made your body shake to its core. 

Was it your weakness for primal wildness that responded so eagerly?

When Curtis pulled away, your mouth was tingling and wet. Your panties felt sticky, too. 

“You’re an addictive sweet little berry, Juniper.” He hummed, rubbing his big thumb along the seam of your inner thigh. “And I’m going to grind you hard, until I bathe whole in your fragrant juices.”

Heat flooded you as an image of brutality with which he’d take your body flashed in your mind. 

There wouldn’t be anything smooth, or delicate about the way the orc treated you. Not because you thought him to be incapable of finesse, but you sensed he was excited about ruining you. 

A squeak ripped out of your throat when Curtis suddenly got up. He hoisted you over his broad shoulder, gripping your struggling body with ease. None of your screams to be let go were respected. And none of your yells for help were answered by anyone from the club. 

Lights of Scaretale, welcoming and homey until now, blurred as you were being carried away. Until darkness of one of the mysterious corridors swallowed you. You had no idea where the orc was taking you. Your knowledge of the corridors was very limited, knowing only that some of the monsters took their partners that way. 

He didn’t slap you when you wiggled, but his large hand spread over your ass and gave a hard squeeze. Probably to remind you of the size and strength of him that surpassed yours a thousand times. 

It didn’t stop you from trying to bolt when he eased you down on your feet. Your surroundings were completely different from the familiar layout of the Scaretale, yet so innocently domestic it gave you a whiplash. 

It appeared you were in some cottage, not very modern judging by the interior. Wooden furniture and wrought-iron details. The bed standing in the middle was an enormous feature, as was a round wooden bathtub in the corner. A type where you had to boil your own water to fill it with. 

If you were looking for a medieval experience, that was the fucking peak of it. 

Curtis’ big hand snatched the back of your shirt as you tried to run away, yanking you back to him with ease. The fabric tore as he gripped it and the orc simply ripped it fully off of you. Then your skirts.

“No!” You struggled between the urge to cover your naked body and scratching the monster towering over you.

“You’re spirited and strong, that’s good.” He praised, easily capturing your wrists in one of his hands. “You’ll fit the war chieftain’s wife role. Bear healthy babies, too.” 

“No worries-” he interrupted your next splutter of protests with a calm, almost mocking tone. “Orcs have mastered the ways of breaking an elven maiden into an obedient, dripping wife.” 

In a swift move he had you plastered to his chest, one arm securing both of your hands at your sides as he reached for something with his free hand. Then something abrasive brushed your skin.

The first loop of the rope around your middle and arms surprised you so much you only gasped. But then Curtis weaved it up and around, creating intricate patterns on your torso as he tied knots and interlooped thick strings of rope. He crossed it around and between your breasts, squeezing them as he tightened it. 

He forced two strings of rope between your lips, creating a makeshift gag. 

With your upper body completely bound, Curtis gripped your hips and tossed you onto the bed. Before you managed to kick at him, he had your ankles tied. He circled the rope around your legs a few more times, pleating pretty knots, until you were completely immobile. 

“Soon,” he propped your bound ankles on his shoulder as he looked down at your helpless form, “you’ll grow to love my ropes on you.” 

You glared at him, but your objection was muffled by the strings across your mouth. 

The sound of your moan was stifled, as well, but resounded much louder when Curtis bent you in half, bringing your legs closer to your chest as he buried his face in your exposed pussy. 

Your folds were slightly puffed and tingling already, roused from the way he had you riding his thigh in the Scaretale and responding to the graze of harsh rope against your sensitive skin. They were begging for a tantalizing tease to continue, to draw your pleasure to a maddening sharp edge. 

But the onslaught of a hungry mouth conquering your wet softness short circuited your brain. 

It was so savage, yet something about it being unapologetically brutal and ruthless scorched your body in a blaze. 

Moan turned into a choked cry as Curtis’ fat tongue licked between your folds and entered your dripping hole. Your breast swelled, the bite of rope heightening as your chest arched within the bonds. Your fingers curled helplessly at your sides, unable to grip anything. 

The sounds Curtis made as he feasted on you were obscene - uncultured, beastly growls and slurps. When he sucked on your clit, your own voice gurgled against the makeshift gag. 

“That’s it, Juniper,” he grunted against your pussy, drinking up your juices. “You’re gonna cum on the orc's tongue. Gonna be my good slut. My own breeding stock.” 

You writhed against the bonds. Against the growing pleasure that was rapidly nearing the precipice. But it was inevitable. His wide, plump lips devoured you, munching on your folds like on the juiciest fruit, before ripping the seam with a tongue brutal like an axe and squishing your clit with rough licks. 

You came with a scream. Within your bonds, the orgasm seemed to be relentless, rattling in each limb like a caged animal. 

When Curtis lifted his face to stare down at you, a dark triumph of conquest glinted in his eyes. He counted your body giving in as a battle victory. And you knew he wasn’t done raiding that field. 

Your slick shone on his face and beard, his tusks were sticky with it. He made no move to clean it off, bearing that wetness like a proud mark of his triumph. 

He kept looking at you, bracing one of his heavy arms across your legs to pin them to your chest, as his hand moved up the curve of your ass. A single digit swiped between your swollen folds, stealing your breath anew. An orc’s one finger was like two of yours, maybe even thicker. 

Curtis didn’t coo at you when you mewled at the intrusion as he pushed that finger into your still fluttering pussy. He snarled in hunger, pushing it against the resistance of your tightness. 

“Breathe through it,” he instructed harshly. “Save your cries for when I split you on my cock.”

You preferred not to think of that part, but it was hard to block it when Curtis started thrusting his digit in and out of you, mimicking what he was going to do using his cock. His inhuman, monstrous, orc dick. 

A shiver rocked your whole body, clenching your walls around his finger. 

“Oh yes, my sweet little berry,” Curtis grinned, lewdly flicking his tongue to lick his bottom lip and the side of his tusk. “I’m going to force my cock into your snug pussy. Stretch it so good and deep.” 

“Hear how wet you are for me already?” He teased, thrusting his finger rougher and raising the embarrassing sound of squelching. “Your cunt’s weeping for my cock and my seed.”

You shook your head, but all movement ceased and your eyes rolled to the back of your head when Curtis pushed a second finger along with his index one. His groan of pleasure was louder than the echo of sloshing wetness trickling around his digits. 

“What a good, hot, wet hole.” He moaned, slowly dipping in and out of your channel; delighting in the feel of your velvet walls gripping his fingers. 

“Bet the other one is just as good.”

You didn’t have time to process his words when he eased one of his fingers out of your pussy and firmly pressed it against your rim. 

Despite your gurgled, weak protests, his finger was slick enough with your wetness that he breached your hole with ease. Well, to him it may have felt easy, but to you it was a struggle depriving you of air. 

“Never had your tight ass penetrated, my wild Juniper?” He looked at you, gloating. “I swear, conquering your body tastes better than any bloodbath and battle victory.”

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, a lewd moan leaving his lips as your walls cinched around his fingers. Then his eyes snapped open again and he was staring down at you, greedily catching every grimace and flicker of pleasure on your face as he fucked both of your holes with his fingers. Faster and faster. 

His grin was near terrifying when your body tensed and you cried out an intense release. 

Curtis pushed his fingers as deep as he could, wiggling them slightly as your walls pulsed around them. When your high subsided in slow waves, he withdrew his fingers and smeared your own cream all over your ass and thighs. 

When he let your legs drop onto the mattress and untied the rope around them with a single tug on one of the knots, you prayed reprieve was coming your way. But then he was flipping you onto your belly and yanking you down across the mattress.

Your legs hung over the edge of the bed, toes barely reaching the floor. Only for a moment. 

Because Curtis bound them into a new position, spreading your legs wide apart. Another rope was weaved and knotted between some of the existing loops. Then he tugged. Harshly.

And your body lifted off the bed. 

You squeaked, confused. Your body swayed in air, yanked higher as Curtis tugged on the rope again. Focused on the sensations he ripped from your body and his presence cutting off anything else, you didn’t notice the iron hooks drilled into the ceiling. Through which Curtis weaved some of the ropes, lifting your helpless body to a preferred height. 

“You’ll rely only on me, Juniper.” Curtis growled, rubbing your parted thighs. “On the bonds keeping my elven slut in place. And on my cock ripping your tight pussy.” 

Your tongue moved against the rope between your lips, failing to sound the pleads for mercy. A tremor rocked your body as you felt the orc’s large body pressing itself between your spread thighs. 

The leaking head of his cock brushed against your abdomen and when you felt Curtis’ hips settle against your butcheeks the whole length of him pressed against your belly. When he held it like that the tip of his dick reached your belly button. 

There was no further preparation graciously given as he gripped his cock and guided it up between your parted folds. Then again, perhaps you should consider him thoughtful, given the two earlier orgasms he wrung out of you to have you creamy and loose. 

Still, when the bulbous head of his dick pressed against your cunt, your entire body tensed. 

It was too big. His entire body was too big. And you had no choice, but to take-

Not a scream, but a moan so high pitched and strangled ripped out of your throat that you were sure it could be heard loud and clear to anyone outside the cottage. 

Curtis speared into you in one, firm stroke, not bothering with the slow and gentle. His cock stretched you wider than two of his fingers had. It sunk deeper, too. To the point of near discomfort as the tip nudged your cervix. 

“Fuuuuck!” Curtis moaned shamelessly, digging his meaty fingers into your hips and holding your swaying body in place. 

“What a snug, delectable cunt.” He rolled his hips in a circle, eliciting new sensations that had you mewling. He chuckled in response. 

“I’m gonna be riding and filling that pussy so often, Juniper. Until you swell with my seed. Then I’ll sate its pathetic need as your belly rounds and your breasts leak milk. Then plow it again to plant another babe. And another.”

Your walls fluttered around him. Heat filled every inch of your body, even as fear and shame mixed at the prospect of enduring all that he promised. 

A gasp soaked into the rope gagging your mouth as Curtis used your bonds to move your body. He wasn’t fucking you, he was swinging your suspended body back and forth, using you. 

Quite slowly at first, relishing in the way your tight channel was clinging to him as his cock eased out. Then the way you stretched around the veiny girth as he plunged back in. It was after one of the easy strokes, when your cream gushed out as his hips met your asscheeks, that Curtis snarled impatiently.

And started really fucking you. 

Not only swaying your body, but meeting it with rough thrusts of his own. Battling any remaining resistance and conquering your body. 

Your breasts bounced with each move, your nipples tightened painfully. Saliva was pooling around the rope gag in your mouth, wetting the hemp and dribbling down your chin. The slight bite of the rope against your skin evoked a tiny prickle of pain that shifted into a burning kind of caress. Monstrous cock filling your pussy provided unparalleled friction and pressure that your clit pulsed without being directly stimulated.

It messed with your mind and overloaded it with how many sensations could be experienced by your body, even though it was fully immobilised. 

You came in a rush, crying out and clenching your eyes shut as white, hot pleasure bursted through you. Curtis welcomed it with a grunt, snapping his hips faster and harder. 

“Your body’s eager to receive my seed, my spicy berry.” He growled in pleasure. “Creaming and opening up to serve its purpose. I’d be a bad husband, if I didn’t spoil you with what you crave.” 

One of his hands moved across your back to grab a fistful of your hair and yank your head up.

“I’d be a poor slut owner, if I didn’t breed you full.” 

His increasing moans combined with the sound of slapping skin and squelching wetness; your tiny whimpers getting lost in the wilderness of it all. 

There was a splutter of low, angry barks of That’s it and Take it all as Curtis fucked you brutally. When he bellowed his release it carried outside like a battle cry. 

Your body seized in an unexpected, small orgasm as you felt his thick cock throbbing inside of you and hot spurts of cum filled you. There was so much of it you felt a pressure grow low in your abdomen. 

Curtis held you in place, breathing heavily and kneading your muscles as he filled your body with the last drop of his cum. When he withdrew, you felt a heavy dollop dripping out and splashing somewhere below. 

A tug on the rope had your body plummeting down, but only your upper half lowered. Your cheek rested against the sheets, while your ass still hung higher in the air. 

“Better to hold all my seed in.” Curtis hummed, patting your wet pussy. “Until I’m ready to fill you again.”

You groaned, seeing his hand palming his softened cock and beginning to stroke it back to attention. 

Curtis fucked you four more times that night. Three times having you suspended in the air, though in different positions and angles. For the last, he had you fully on the bed, too exhausted and spent to really fight him, so no ropes were needed. He plowed into you from behind, crushing your body with his weight. 

Though it provided a warm kind of comfort later when he held your curled, sleepy form to his massive body. 

When you woke up late the next morning, the bright near-noon sun was filtering through the wide open windows. Through one of them you saw Curtis. Wearing only his warrior leathers and chopping wood. As you stretched, you felt ache awakening in places you never considered could feel sore. 

You still felt the imprint of his cock inside you. 

And the sticky remainder of his cum, that had to drip out of you during the night.

There was so much of it when he filled you over and over again, you wouldn’t be surprised if the orc managed to obtain his obsessive goal to breed you. 

Your fingers traced across your belly, but before you spiralled into thoughts and images of swelling with the monster’s baby another sensation drew your attention. On your ankle, you felt a soft, insistent caress.  

When you glanced at it, you saw a wide leather cuff. A small padlock was clasped on the buckle, making it impossible to take off the cuff without a key. A thin, but sturdy chain was attached to the cuff, the length of it laid in shiny coils on the floor. 

“You’re not yet broken enough to keep you unrestrained,” came Curtis’ calm, deep voice. 

He stepped inside, the axe in his hand catching the light and glinting dangerously. He put it aside, then splashed his hands with water from a tin bowl placed by the entrance. Thick fingers started undoing his breeches as he slowly approached the bed.

“Spread your legs, Juniper.” He coaxed. “I want to fill your ripe pussy before we make a meal.” 

[fayes-fics]

Lessons In Roleplay

Lessons Series Masterpost

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (threesome)

Summary: The boys roleplay dastardly highwayman and rescuer.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, d/s dynamics, roleplay, CNC play, gunplay, slightly rough vaginal sex, dirty talk, cuckolding play, mention of breeding, oral sex (f to m), blow job, spitroast, orgasms, aftercare.

Word Count: 4.8k

Authors Note: This is a request fill for the amazing @colettebronte, asking for some roleplay in the Lessons universe. How could I say no to that? She chose which role the boys would play. Beta read by the amazing @sorryallonsy. Gif by @captainbucky-yt. The image is not particularly relevant to the story, but they both look delicious. Enjoy! <3

“Do you really think a highwayman might have seen us?”  you query, your head resting on Anthony’s chest as he strokes your hair idly. “Yesterday, in the carriage,” you clarify as Benedict lifts his head from your belly and shoots you a querying eyebrow.

You are all lying together, entwined in post-coital bliss, under a large oak on their country estate on a beautiful summer day. The day after your eventful carriage ride here with them.

Anthony’s responding chuckle vibrates under you. “Tis possible, my sweet girl,” he opines lazily, using his other hand to shield his eyes from the sun cutting through the leaves above.

Your thoughtful mien has Benedict pushing up onto his hands and hovering over you, his hazy eyes observing you with a knowing quirk on his lips. 

“I think our girl likes that idea,” he intuits, always correct in his ability to read you.

“I would prefer one of you be my robber, not a stranger,” you confess, smiling when they grab one of your hands each.

“If that is what the lady wishes….perhaps such a thing can be arranged,” Benedict opines silkily,  lacing your fingers with his. “Can it not, brother?”

“What are you thinking?” Anthony hums, bringing your hand to his face.

“Perhaps the old phaeton in the stable can be put to good use?” Benedict suggests, lowering himself to kiss down your ribs. “I do not see why we could not steal away somewhere within the grounds and make our sweet girl's wish come true. One of us can play the dastardly highwayman lurking by the roadside as she rides by…” he trails off, getting distracted by the softness of your skin, dropping kisses onto your belly now.

“...And one of you could play my rescuer who draws up upon horseback?” you supply, a little breathless at the images already tumbling through your mind as their lips trace over your skin.

They both chuckle at that, Anthony dropping a kiss on your forehead and Benedict onto your hipbone.

“I am more than certain that could be arranged,” Anthony confirms, an admiring twinkle in his eye as you twist to look up at him. “This evening, in fact…”

“But which would you be, my lord?”

“What do you want of me, my girl? Do you want me to be the gallant hero?” he questions, his fingers tracing your cupid’s bow before sliding between your lips; his fingers still tart with your arousal as he presses upon your tongue. “Or the man who will hold you up? Whose demands you will need to submit to? To plead to spare your life?”

“The latter,” your reply muffled around his questing fingers, a frisson low in your belly that he may fuck you by the roadside in the dead of night.

“Then I shall ride in to rescue you,” Benedict affirms, his fingers flexing between yours as you now look down at him, his chin resting low upon your stomach.

“But not too soon…” you appeal with a wink, “and I think my rescuer should help me with my pleasure too, no?”

They both laugh knowingly at that. 

“Your wish is my command….” Benedict offers, nudging this nose into your belly, which now fizzes with excitement about the night ahead.

—

You dress in a delicate cerulean blue silk gown that clings like liquid satin to your bare skin, foregoing any underwear, as is so often your preference when playing with your boys. Your outfit is topped off with sparkling sapphires and diamonds draped around your neck and wrists, no doubt priceless heirlooms from the vault Anthony holds on the property.

The hallway clock softly chimes midnight just as you steal out of the servant's entrance, meeting Benedict in the courtyard by the stables, already standing ready with a horse and a small, buggy-type carriage.

“You look beautiful,” he remarks, flattery just falling from him as ever. “I assume you know how to steer a phaeton?” he checks as you draw up to him, the moonlight throwing his face into handsome relief.

You nod, and he moves aside to assist you in climbing into the simple open-top carriage with an exchange of smiles.

“You remember where to go, correct?” His voice is soft as he hands you the reins. 

“Down past the lake, take the left fork, follow the hedgerow until the thicket of trees,” you parrot the agreed directions from earlier. You can only assume Anthony is already lying in wait for you there.

Benedict nods, and then his demeanour changes, leaning in, a hand curling around your neck.

“Be careful out there, my sweet. Highwaymen may lurk,” he warns, slipping effortlessly into his heroic character. 

“Perhaps a kiss for good luck upon my journey…. ?” you coquette, enjoying the way his pupils dilate.

He sweeps you into an all-consuming kiss that makes your heart pound and your body tingle, his tongue warm and insistent over yours.

“Good luck, my fair lady,” he exhales as you part, taking a step back to bow with a flourish.

You giggle and shake the reins to take off, elated your evening adventure has begun.

—

It is less than five minutes later when you arrive at a copse of trees, the bright new moon illuminating the fields around you as you slip under the shadows of the mighty oaks on either side of the track. 

“STAND AND DELIVER!!” 

A loud, clear voice rings out as you slow your horse to a stop, belly aflutter with anticipation. Emerging from behind a tree is a tall figure dressed in a black shirt and trousers, and as he draws nearer, you see a familiar, handsome face disguised behind a simple black mask. 

Anthony.

You gasp as his leather-gloved hand draws a gun from his waistband and points it at you, blood running hot at his complete commitment to the roleplay.

“I have nothing to offer you, thief!” 

Your protest is exaggerated but triumphant as his gaze falls to your decolletage, swelling with each exaggerated breath, your neckline scooped intentionally low.

“Get down at once, and perhaps I will spare your life, for I know you lie,” he counters, “those jewels around your neck, I wager, are worth more than my entire house….”

In your eagerness, you stumble slightly as you climb down from the carriage, and strong hands grasp your waist and right your stance on the ground.

“Unhand me, ruffian!” 

Your theatrics are met with a flicker of tacit approval across his face.

“Not until those jewels are mine, fair lady!” highwayman Anthony contends, a predatory smile that has his teeth glowing in the low light, his firm grip upon you flexing.

“Please… I'm sure you are a reasonable man,” you change tack, still heaving breaths. “I simply cannot give you these jewels. They are too precious to me. They are a gift from my love.”

Framed by the mask, his dark eyes flash possessively, and there is a slip of softness in his expression as you say such words, knowing the truth behind them. 

But then his tongue pokes out, licking his incisor almost menacingly. One of his hands bands behind your back, yanking you flush against his firm body.

“Do you really think you are in any position to negotiate, my fair lady?” he withers.

Your heart quickens as he places the cold barrel of the gun to your temple. 

“It is not loaded,” he whispers, a warmth behind your ribs as he breaks character for a split second of reassurance before his expression is back to flinty. 

“Please….” you implore.

He ignores you, crowding you backwards into the side of the carriage, the shiny lacquered wood of the wheel spokes digging into your spine. Once trapped, the hand around your waist moves to grasp your necklace, his leather glove cold on your breastbone.

“Take this off, or I will,” he orders; it’s a resonant threat that vibrates right into your body.

“Then you shall have to, for I will not!” you spit out, struggling against him for good measure, wanting nothing more than for him to rip the jewels from your body. And then your dress.

Just as promised, he is a little rough as he manhandles you, spinning you around so your breasts are pressed into the side of the phaeton, the unmistakable heat of his arousal on your tailbone as he leans into you. 

He yanks off his gloves with his teeth and brushes your hair aside, unclasping the necklace and slowly tugging one end so it falls off behind you. A frisson runs the length of your spine as his bare fingers trail down slowly over both of your arms to your wrists and flick open the hinges on the bangles there, removing them too.

“These jewels are beautiful, my lady,” he concedes, pocketing them, “but I demand more…”

“Please, brute, you have taken all I can give you!”

“Oh, but that is not true…” he rumbles hotly into the nape of your neck. 

You gasp as a hand cups between your legs through your thin dress. 

“Your greatest treasure is the only one I cannot take with me….” 

He ruts himself into you, intent unmistakable, as his fingers curl into the fabric. The softness of the silk over your already throbbing clit has you biting your lip.

“No, please, let me go…” 

You amp up your performance, pushing back into him, looking over your shoulder with a fiery challenge that belies your words.

“I demand satisfaction!” 

With that, he kicks your feet apart, rucking up your dress until you feel the cool night air swirling around your buttocks and between your legs. Then there is a pause as his hand travels up your naked flesh, a hungry noise escaping his lips as he buries his nose into your hair, 

“Perhaps I misjudged…” he rasps, words huffing warm over your scalp. “No stockings. Nor underwear. You are far from a lady….”

“How dare you!” 

You struggle again in his grip, loving the way his hold gets more insistent, moaning loudly as his fingers curl into your folds, already leaking profusely from the moment he emerged from the trees.

“Shut up,” he gruffs, dropping the gun into the carriage in front of you. “The more you struggle, the more I will take.”

This play already has you desperate for him, blood boiling with pure want as his fingers tease your clit.

“No, you beast, I shall not give in…” 

Your objection sharpens his resolve, the wool of his trousers chafing the back of your thighs as he rapidly yanks open his britches one-handed. 

Your cry echoes around the tree canopy as his rigid cock roughly ploughs into your pussy from behind, the force rocking you up onto your tiptoes. The sheer stretching invasion has you grabbing the carriage for leverage, wanting to voice your approval but too committed to the role you inhabit to allow yourself.

“Please, mister, no!” 

You twist to meet his eye, silently begging for him to go fast and hard, take you mercilessly as you pretend this is not every wish you had for this night. Loving the feel of his fingertips curling around the crest of your hips, readying to take you hard. 

And then he does—pulling out almost entirely, then ploughing back into you harshly. Immediately setting a nearly punishing rhythm, the dirt beneath your silk shoes crunching under your foot as you rock with his motions, you calling out loudly with each jolt.

“Quiet, or I will spank you,” he warns, his face wild, even obscured behind his mask.

That’s an open invitation you are not going to refuse.

“Stop!” you yell, goadingly.

There is a stinging slap across your buttock that has you lurching, your head lolling down, a huge, unseen smile claiming your lips, little sparks of fire radiating from the point of contact, a beeline right for your clit.

“No more!” you pant, staring at the ground and rocking back into his snapped thrusts, wrenching a moan from you with every move, his cock a delicious heavy weight cleaving you open, as it always is. You could never tire of this feeling, when he takes you so hard you can only cling on for dear life.

“All I heard is more, fair lady,” he laughs darkly and spanks again, your other cheek this time, a matching handprint you feel glowing.

You pitch forward and teeth the carriage as he fucks you. His moves are harsh, grunting with each thrust. You bite down, knowing the dental imprint you leave will be a great source of pride for him, a lasting memento of just how untamed he can make you.

“Tell me you want this!” He demands, grabbing your throat and yanking you backwards, your spine flush to his front, speared deep onto his cock as he stills.

“Never!” 

His hand spanks you again so forcefully your eyes roll back. He withdraws slowly, then thrusts up so deep your toes leave the ground, him supporting all of your weight. It’s always so wonderful to feel like a rag doll in his arms when he is like this, speared open, utterly malleable to his onslaught.

Suddenly, movement catches the corner of your vision, and you look askance to see Benedict approaching, shirt billowing in the wind as he rides his galloping horse majestically across the moonlit field toward you. His horse whinnies as he dismounts in an athletic leap, bounding towards you.

“UNHAND HER AT ONCE!” 

His voice is a bellow the likes of which you have never heard from his before. It makes you clench reflexively around his brother’s cock, and you wonder how much jealousy is behind the following line that Anthony sneers.

“It appears you have a rescuer, my lady. How entertaining. Who is he?” Anthony demands, spinning you around to face Benedict while still buried inside you.

“My husband,” you improvise provocatively, pushing back into Anthony.

It’s not something you had discussed with them for the roleplay, merely that Benedict would be your rescuer. But the look of unbridled desire that engulfs his face as you bestow him as such for this scene makes your lungs catch, his whole body puffing out with pride. 

“Get. Your. Hands. Off. My. Wife.” 

Each word is its own sentence, his voice dripping with possession and intent, inhabiting outrage so perfectly.

“Too late,” Anthony snarls back. “I am already inside her, and she is thoroughly enjoying it. Her smart mouth may protest, but she is positively flooding over me.” 

That triumphant verbal swipe makes you stutter. Evidently, Anthony has been taking notes from his poetic, dirty-talking younger brother, who stands before you now, a quake in his being that could be a husband’s rage, but you know to be pent-up desire—his gaze trained on your exposed lower half.

“Wrong…” Benedict growls, taking a large step forward, pressing into your front so you are sandwiched between them. Your very favourite place to be. “She may be drenched, but you are not the cause, merely the beneficiary.” 

Benedict’s sizeable right hand curls into the hair at the nape of your neck as he stakes his claim on you with his words and deeds: drawing you into a plundering kiss, the outline of his cock growing harder, pressing hot into your belly, before he breaks away to continue speaking. 

“She is my obedient little one,” he proclaims, cupping your jaw to make you stare up at him, even as Anthony’s cock rocks deeper into your pussy, challenging his claim. “As soon as she so much as scents me in her periphery, she is dripping down to her dainty ankles. And that is why she is mine. My wife.” 

Benedict’s resonant cadence vibrates your chest and has you swaying, desperate for him as well. You feel Anthony twist a fraction to grab something from the carriage behind him, still rock hard inside you. 

“Do you forget, Sir, who has the true weapon here? Anthony challenges.

The cold barrel of the gun is pressed to your temple again. 

You mouth the words not loaded to Benedict, and he responds in kind, I know, before stepping back and holding his hands up in faux capitulation. 

“Please,” Benedict changes tack, “take our jewels, but please do not harm my wife…”

You are enthralled by this—the planning they must have done together to execute this and how effortlessly they both inhabit their characters. A collaboration that speaks to their growing acceptance of each other as equals in this dynamic. Even though you can see the lines blurring as they goad each other within the roleplay, spectres of their past power dynamic, where Anthony would taunt Benedict with you, setting rules that always gave him the upper hand.

“I have already ruined her,” Anthony smirks, thrusting once for good measure and making you moan before stilling again. “But I shall offer you a deal…”

“Anything…” Benedict pleads, utterly convincing now as the distressed, cuckolded husband.

“You may watch me fuck her, plant my seed in her, and I will be happy to leave empty-handed.” 

“Or…?” Benedict prompts, sensing an alternative.

“You may join me in taking her. I will not seed her, but I will depart with every single one of your jewels,” Anthony declares, nodding to Benedict’s ring on his little finger.

“Wife…. I shall let you choose.” Benedict's eyes scoot to you, still embodying his role, but his gaze pleading to let him in on the fun.

Silently, you hold out your hand to him, inviting him in. He takes it, bringing it to his lips and kissing your knuckles briefly in reassurance. 

“You have a deal, highwayman,” Benedict concedes to Anthony, pointedly removing his signet ring and handing it over your shoulder.

Anthony pulls out of you, making you whine at the loss, a droplet of wetness trickling down your thigh as he spins you around to face him. 

“I think your wife should be naked, would you not agree?” Anthony posits, his fingers trailing your scooped neckline to the swell of your breast as he gives an order: “Undress her for me.”

Wordlessly, you feel Benedict plucking at the buttons over your spine. As they relent, he moves to tug the slackened fabric down off your torso, and the blue silk flutters to the ground, a shiver running over your skin as a cool breeze swirls around your naked body. 

Anthony sucks in a breath, taking a half-step back, his eyes raking covetously over your naked skin. 

“You permit your wife to parade in public without any undergarments?” he chides, his tone dripping with judgment.

“Permit her?” Benedict chuckles, bemused.

You inhale sharply as he wraps an arm around you, hauling you snugly backwards into his frame, his long fingers then spidering down your lower belly, right into your damp slit. 

“I veritably insist upon it,” he gloats. “And she is more than keen…”

His teeth catch your earlobe as you whimper and writhe on his touch, little sparks of pleasure pinging around your body. 

“Always so ready for me, are you not, my darling wife?” 

You twist to meet his gaze as you nod obediently, and he rewards you with a crooked smile and a light pinch to your engorged clit that makes you cry out for him, punctuating his point. You yearn for him to take you roughly, needing this husband version he plays so well to claim you as his. 

“You are a lucky man, betrothed to such an eager little vixen,” Anthony concedes, staring you down, provocatively wiping his lip with his thumb, hunger barely contained as he watches you ride his brother's fingers. “Perhaps she can lick clean the mess she made of me while you take your pleasure?” he adds casually.

“I will do it,” you volunteer brightly, almost preemptively, and far too enthusiastically for being held ‘hostage’.

“Come now, sweet girl, at least try to act as if you are mildly perturbed by our predicament…” Benedict deadpans genially, his fingers stilling as he breaks character, and Anthony chuckles, looking equally entertained by your outburst.

“Sorry…” you whisper over a giggle, and it earns you a quick kiss on the cheek from both of them, their eyes glittering with amusement. “Please continue…” 

Benedict slides his fingers out from between your legs, you whining from the loss. But you soon quieten as you realise he is unbuttoning his trousers, knuckles brushing your bottom as he peels them open just enough to free himself, veritably pulsing for the promise of his cock too.

“Bend over and suckle him, wife,” he orders, back in his role, knowing how much you adore detailed filthy instruction from him.

“Yes, husband,” you demure, lowering yourself as requested, widening your stance as you do so—a blatant invitation for him to take you.

“What an excellent, obedient thing,” Anthony observes, his hand gliding into your hair as you peel his trousers open further, pressing your face into his crotch before sucking his tip between your lips, glazed with your arousal.

“She’s a wonder,” Benedict concurs.

Anthony’s fingers flex on your scalp, and his thumb rounds your jaw to pull down your chin, opening you wider. He thrusts into your mouth; your hands cling to his muscular thighs as his tip nudges the roof of your mouth, tongue pressed into his underside. 

He groans loudly, your tastebuds flooded with your tart juices and a bead of his salty precum. He withdraws then drives back in, nudging deeper this time, knowing it always makes you mindless, his grip solid on your head as he starts to fuck into your mouth. It has you squirming with supplicant need, begging Benedict silently for his cock, too, as he teases your slit, grinding his head over your clit.

Your call is entirely muffled around Anthony as Benedict finally takes pity on you, thrusting deep into your pussy, in one rapid, forceful move. Both ends of your body are utterly invaded, one of your favourite places to be, a carnal loop of pleasure that only they can provide. Anthony’s hands are heavy on your scalp as Benedict's grasp your hips almost punishingly tight—something so thrilling about you being bent over entirely naked between their clothed bodies. They work together to ensure maximum pleasure for you, intuiting your needs, Anthony withdrawing just as you need to draw breath but always keeping you singing with need, his cock something to muffle your noises, to suckle upon as they both drive you higher.

You sag into their hold, relying on them to keep you balanced, pliant to the push and pull of your being between these men as they use you just as you want them to. Entirely possessed by them, played expertly by both as if an instrument for all of your mutual pleasure. Always intuiting your needs, Benedict reaches down, pulling your arms backwards flush with the sides of your body, twining his fingers in yours, a possessive hold that means you have no purchase to prevent Anthony’s thrusts into your mouth. 

Benedict’s pace builds slowly, his cock grinding all those places deep inside only they can reach. His thrusts that cleave you open timed perfectly, his fingers curled over the pulse point on your wrist, syncopating his movements with each beat of your heart.

Anthony groans, causing his cock to vibrate as it passes through the tight ring of your lips. The tingle has you moaning too, a call and response that notches things higher.

“I will not last,” Anthony grits out, teeth clenched, his fingernails digging into your scalp, his thrusts into your mouth urgent now, barely allowing you any reprieve.

“Do as you will…” Benedict grunts, his noises guttural as you clench around him, a vice that has him dropping your wrists, sensing how close you are, too. One of his hands grabs your hip roughly as the other ploughs into your slit, catching your swollen, throbbing clit.

He changes angle to spear deeper, harsher, and you scream around Anthony’s cock, which fills your mouth now, breathing harshly through your nose as he uses you mercilessly.

“Look at me,” Anthony commands, grabbing your head to tilt your face upwards, his cock tip grinding the roof of your mouth, your hands again on his wool trousers for leverage as you stare wide-eyed up at his handsome face, angular and determined.

“So fucking beautiful,” he croaks, his thumb rounding to blot the tear forming in the corner of your eye from not wanting to blink. 

“Better and more priceless than any jewel,” Benedict taunts, still impressively embodying his role, each word heaved over a breath, “and all mine.”

The possession with which he growls that last word, plunging harder than he ever has, is the catalyst for all of you. The vibration of your scream around Anthony’s cock as Benedict glances at your hilt is what tips him over. A heavy pulse travels up the length of his cock, and his fingernails cirls into your scalp as he comes, a salty rope splashing into your throat that you swallow reflexively as Benedict's fingers and cock send you over the edge, your vision whiting out, as your whole body convulses, strong hands bandying around you to hold you upright as your knees almost give out, everything in your snapping taut as you come so hard you swear stars dance before your eyes. With an almost howl, Benedict roughly pulls out of your convulsing pussy, a warmth splashing over your lumbar spine as you all pant loudly.

Before you are fully cognisant, strong arms pull you into an embrace. You recover, caged by Benedict, his chest warm against your spine as he murmurs sweet words in your ear. In front of you, Anthony refastens his trousers, pulling the gems from his coat pocket, still impressively in character.

“I shall greatly enjoy the spoils of this evening,”  he taunts, holding them up so they sparkle in the moonlight. “But, if you should ever wish to share your wife again, you know where to find me…”

“How do you know I will not tell others of your location? Force you to move your despicable, criminal activities elsewhere?” Benedict counters as you drowsily enjoy their little theatrical, continuing purely for your amusement.

“Because of the way your wife is looking at me…” Anthony crows, stepping forward again to run a finger over your chin and swollen, darkened lips as he repockets the loot. “As if she wishes to ride away with me as much as she wishes to remain with you.” 

He draws you in for a fierce, possessive kiss, you gasping heavily, pliant under his invasion, still dazed from your orgasm. 

“Perhaps one day, if you are a good little thing for me, you could even earn your jewels back…” Anthony contends. “Until then, I bid you adieu…” he signs off, bowing, then turning heel and disappearing into the night.

—

A few minutes later, Anthony saunters back from bridling the additional horse onto the phaeton. Himself again, the roleplay scene over.

“Our poor girl cannot wear this; 'tis too caked in dirt and mud now,” he rues, no trace of the menacing highwayman to be found in his tone as he scoops your trampled dress up from the dirt track.

“We will just have to keep her warm for the ride back, brother,” Benedict advocates.

Anthony hums in agreement, chivalrously whipping off his shirt and helping you into it with affectionate kisses. After a quiet spell in their joint embrace - always your favourite place to recover from such vigorous adventures - they both tenderly assist you up into the carriage, arranging you snugly between them upon the simple bench seat. Both wrap their free arm around you as they grab a horse rein each. You burrow into their comforting presence as the carriage trundles away at a leisurely pace.

“Did you enjoy our roleplay, my girl?” Anthony checks, tone laden with affection, as Benedict turns to kiss your forehead tenderly.

“Yes, you were both so wonderful, exactly as I had hoped and more. Thank you,” you sigh contentedly, nuzzling into them both in turn.

“I cannot wait to hear of your other fantasies, sweet girl. I assume you have many more,” Benedict guesses, accurate as always.

“I am rather taken by the idea of adventure on the high seas with two swashbuckling buccaneers…” you confess, even as you have to stifle a yawn, the sway of the carriage and their warmth soporific.

“Well, after you have had some good rest, my darling girl, perhaps I will seek out our grandfather’s cutlass…” Anthony offers as he laughs genially.

You perk up, and your head pings between them. “Is that a promise?”

“Most definitely,” they answer in unison, two pairs of amused, sparkling eyes meeting yours as the beauty of Aubrey Hall hones into view in your periphery.

You cannot wait.

Anthony & Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @ferns-fics @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23

[amwrites-xoxo]

“Stress-relievers”

SatoSugu x fem!reader

MDNI

Tags: unprotected sex (p in v), oral sex (f and m receiving), teasing, threesome, blink and you’ll miss it cockwarming, very minor somnophilia, overstimulation, cream pie

Masc version (coming soon!)

word count: 1.7K

It was a long ass day at work, people screaming at you all day. You were tired, frustrated, the whole 10 yards. You were sore, you could feel how tight your muscles were, feeling even a bit overstimulated from your bra even, everything was just a lot.

You opened your door, angrily pushing it open and walking inside your apartment. You shared an apartment with your boyfriends. You saw the two laying on the couch, looking up when they heard the door open. 

Satoru said hello in his usual cocky demeanor “Hey hottie!~” He exclaimed. Suguru was more observant and noticed the tension in your body and the anguish in your expression. Suguru pushed gojo off the couch and made room for you, offering you a place to sit. Satoru huffed but perked up when he heard the softness in getos voice saying “Come sit with us”

You sighed and sat down, your head leaning against the back of the couch.

Gojo looked over the side curiously. Geto saw the strain in your back and instinctively he started massaging your muscles. You involuntarily groaned a little lewdly, satoru growing hard in his pants with a curse under his breath.

Suguru gave him a look as he massaged your back, his thumbs kneading into the tense muscles.

Satoru, eventually, (like the lost sad puppy he is),  pouted while he climbed on the couch inbetween your legs. You looked at him, sighed, and could barely even nod before his hands were under your shirt, massaging your breasts and playing with your nipples. 

Of course, Satoru being satoru, he ducked under your shirt and took one of your breasts in his mouth. Your thighs clenched around his waist, and he let out a moan. You choked out a gasp “Jesus, calm down toru..” you mumbled under your breath

He chuckled, the vibrations on your breast from his voice going straight to your core. Suguru was watching over your shoulder as one hand kept massaging you and the other playing with your hair. He saw satorus boner tenting in his pants, but you didn’t seem to notice (or you just didn’t mind) finally suguru spoke up in your ear “Do you want to talk about it?” He said

You just shook your head and continued to let yourself be held 

They both understood, for awhile you stayed like that, being massaged by your boys. You closed your eyes and relaxed, seemingly falling asleep. 

Satoru smirked as he bended down and very slowly pulled down your skirt. Suguru sighed and spoke quietly as to not disturb you 

“Let her rest, Satoru” he said “oh, she’ll be resting when I’m done with this pretty cunt-“ he said. Suguru rolled his eyes but couldn’t help his growing arousal watching Satoru lightly nip at your thighs. 

Suguru laid you down in his lap and drew patterns in your cheeks mindlessly, satoru watching with a wide grin as he started playing with your clit, his fingers gently rolling it between his fingers, looking up to see if it had waken you up yet. You stirred and let out a soft sigh, but stayed asleep

Suguru was tapping you awake, not wanting Satoru to go too far if you were too tired. You slightly looked up at him and let out a small moan when you feel Satoru playing with your vagina. Suguru and you exchanged a look before he kissed your sleepy eyes and your hands “Do you want me to tell him to stop?” He whispered. You shook your head.

Satoru pouted at Suguru “hey! I wanted her to stay asleep” he whined “it’s fine, you can continue” you said sleepily, your words accompanied with a yawn. He smirked and dived right back in, kissing and kitten licking your clit. Your core tightened when he looked up at you with those bright blue eyes, and you let out a soft moan. Suguru took that as initiative to ‘help’ Satoru..

“Keep your pretty eyes on him, baby. Don’t look at me, I can’t help you” he smirked as he spoke, moving your head to look at Satoru.

You squeezed your thighs, Satoru chuckling as he felt them against his head, as if giving him more incentive to pursue your pussy. 

He gripped your thighs as he tongue swirled around your clit, eventually trailing to your entrance, he stopped. Then he started bitting and nipping as your thighs, you groaned out a “Satoru, please..” 

He just laughed and continued taking his sweet time. Suguru kissed his neck and sucked, leaving hickeys as he watched the display going on underneath him. He moved his hand and stroked your thigh, you bit your lip as you could only watch as Satoru became more daring. You ran your hands through his white hair, grasping at it as he finally stuck his tongue in your entrance. Your back arched against suguru while his hand came down to toy with your clit, pinching it at every wave of arousal. “How does that feel, pretty? Good, yes?” Suguru whispered as you rolled your hips into satorus face. 

He was relentless, barely even coming up for gasps of air as he ate you eat, your slick coating him mouth and tongue. Sugurus hard-on poked your back, you let out a breathy gasp. “Satoru.. please don’t stop” you said, moans interjecting your sentences

He smirked into your folds and continued eating you out, like a starved man. Funny, he thought, you made fun of him when he wolfed down his food but you were awfully quiet when he was wolfing down you

 You gasped when you felt your orgasm crash over you, biting down hard on your lip as your walls tightened around Satoru. Immedietly after your high, he dug his fingers. You cried out

“Satoru! Please—I just—“ suguru turned your head and kissed your lips, his hand going down to massage your thighs, heightening your senses. “Gimme a hand here, she’s very tight…” Satoru said to suguru. 

Sugurus other hand went to your vagina and stuck a finger in, stretching you out for Satoru, who kept hitting your most sensitive spots. You gasped and let out a string of loud moans. Suguru removed his hand from your thigh and used it to put his hand under her chin, squeezing your cheeks.

As yet another orgasm came over you, they put you on your hands and knees, you know what was coming next, but you weren’t sure if your overstimulated clit was ready. “You know the word, babe”he said, referring to your safe word

Satoru undid his belt, releasing his cock- it was longer than sugurus, but you knew sugurus was thicker. Without warning he shoved into your clit, mumbling words of praise. You gasped for air and grinder your teeth. Sugurus dick was far too close to your clenched mouth for comfort, he reached a hand to your jaw. “you might want to open your mouth, pretty girl” he said. You saw his piercing on his dick, the small round ball you already know you’re gonna feel in your mouth

You obediently open your mouth and shut your eyes when you feel him thrush inside and immedietly he’s hitting the back of your throat. You gag on his length, tears spilling as you feel the stimulation from both of them let alone his metal piercing hitting the inside of our mouth. Suguru cooes to you, but is grunting. 

Satoru is full out moaning praising your pussy like it’s a god “Fuck baby, so tight, so tight for me” he let out a long string of moans “‘m ‘m gonna destroy this beautiful— this beautiful cunt-“ he groaned, bucking his hips to 

Suguru let out an airy laugh as you were pulled and tugged by your hair on his twitching penis. 

Satoru felt you tighten and he chuckled, swallowing and making a quiet ‘haa’ noise at the sight of your aching hole swallowing him up so nicely. 

For the, what, third time? You felt your core tighten impossibly

Suguru rubbed your hips through your high, watching Satoru come with you as he grips your ass hard and smacks it. You let out a sharp cry, and suguru puts his hands on your cheeks as if to loosen your jaw. When your throat tightens around him, he ruts farther into your mouth and throws his head back, shooting strings of his seed down your throat. You tried swallowing as much as you could. He removed himself from your mouth, Satoru letting you cockwarm him for a few seconds before pulling out of your leaking hole.

You fell onto your tummy, suguru let out a small laugh, after a long day and a good dicking-down, needless to say you were tired. There was a mix of cum on the couch, you sporting your unbuttoned shirt and ruined panties. 

“You’re nasty, Satoru-“

“You just fucked her throat!”

“I thought you ‘destroyed her pretty cunt?’” Suguru bit back. Satoru blushed and rolled his eyes. He never thought straight when he was mid-orgasm. 

Suguru picked you up, he would almost say you were dramatic from the way you were limp in his arms, but you were just too cute as you stared up at him with half lidded eyes. “Let’s all go take a warm bath, yes? Our beautiful girl needs to be taken care of.” He rubbed your cheek and brought you to the bathroom, satoru following behind, watching your blissed-out face, mouth open, whimpering still.

They brought you to the bathroom, turning on the hot water. Purposely when they got this apartment, they made sure there was a big bathroom that would fit the three of them. 

Suguru placed you gently in the water, letting the water run over your body as he put in a bathbomb. Satoru got in, already looking at the bath bomb. He was a little shaky too, but not as much as you.

Suguru got in and they both took care of you, washing and massaging your sore body while you relaxed.

Satoru reached for his phone and ordered your favorite food, Suguru peaking as he scrubbed your scalp with shampoo, praises littering his mouth.

After the bath, you guys all ate in bed. They fed you like a princess and her suitors while you laughed about it. Suguru cleaned up the dishes and they laid you down, throwing blankets over the three of you and Satoru cuddling close 

That’s when you realized you had forgotten all about the stress from earlier that day

[thcdoomed]

She had a point, much as she hated to admit it. "Thank you," her voice came out barely above a whisper. "I can still remember what it felt like having fangs in my own throat, I didn't want to leave you with the same... trauma." That's the word, it was always the word. She woke up terrified and traumatized, surrounded by smoke and the smell of burnt flesh, and the sight of her fiance dead a few feet away, his neck snapped. They most likely killed him after making him watch her own life slip away. Had she not made it to Jalen's house when she had, barely clinging on to life, she would have turned to a dhampir with no safety net. A beast of the woods.

"I should." She really should, but she hated the nightmares that haunted her when she closed her eyes. If not the dream visitor who wore Caius' face, then the flashbacks of that night, the very ones that sometimes warped where she saw herself feeding from Caius instead. Dronia peered outside the tent again, observing the others. Even if no one questioned why she was in Shadowheart's tent, her especially glowing eyes would tip them off. Astarion would smell the blood on her breath, no doubt.

It was an amusing sight, watching the two lively animals scrambling over one another to make their way to the tent. Such wonderful beasts the both of them. They made the nights less lonely when she couldn't sleep.

Dronia was usually the one giving instructions to their faithful furry friend and the feathery cub, but Shadowheart seemed a natural at speaking gently with them. It was endearing. Made her think of the dog she had as a child that stayed on the homestead. But Scratch's attention quickly turned to her as he made his way over, whining gently and resting against her as a form of comfort. Her heart melted, people didn't deserve the kindness of animals sometimes. Her hand gently stroked his head as she looked down, her ability to speak with animals silently activated as she whispered "Good boy."

"For a second — " Dronia said, glancing up, " — I thought you were talking to me." There was a hint of amusement before she let out a yawn. All that strength she took from feeding and yet the absolute stress had worn her out enough to need the sleep. "I think I'm just going to lay my head down for a bit," she said with another yawn, allowing herself to move further into the tent to the corner Shadowheart had pointed out, allowing Scratch to come with her. She knew the moment she laid her head down, she would be out for the count.

"Some things we cannot help, Dronia. I would rather you here as you are, than beyond salvation and control," said Shadowheart, sensing where Dronia's mind was going. She must look down upon herself and this whole ordeal as a moment of admitting weakness. Shadowheart didn't think it was ego, her companion much too good-natured and well-meaning to even seem like she had such an ego. Confidence in her ability, but not an excess of said pride. But what she referred to was more ... the possibility of something else and innocence lost outside in the woods ... living that way.

"It's important that you make the effort and try, I think," She continued, finally releasing Dronia so she could address the latter statement. It made her smile, gaze shifting away from hers for a bit in fondness. That commanding tone ... that was the Dronia she remembered. It was a relief to see that she was already back to herself. "I have not set up any precautions just yet for keeping watch, however ... "

Crawling toward the mouth of the tent, she picked up a large cushion on the way and huddled near the darkness, whistling as low as possible. Dronia could probably do it better to catch both Scratch's and the cub's attention. Both heard well enough, enthusiastically making a dash for her tent and nearly stumbling over one another in the attempt to get there first.

"Scratch. You hear anything amiss, you'll bark right. Very loudly for Dronia to hear you," She nodded toward her tent guest. The dog gave a yip in response, jumping once to show he received the order, understanding her perfectly. Though Scratch was soon to whine after observing Dronia, as if sensing her distress and some of the trauma she had been through, he trotted inside, gave a soft whine before sitting down inside the cradle of her arms.

"Fine," Shadowheart conceded, keeping him in her watchful gaze. "You can sleep here, but mind my order and bark loud if you hear something. You hear better than the both of us combined."

[princehendir]

"you know that the Minecraft movie is going to have Jack Black saying "erm. I have to punch a tree... For wood"" well yeah. obviously. what other humor style could it possibly have.

[magentagalaxies]

ok i'm losing my mind rn bc basically scott has said multiple times "buddy doesn't swear" and every time he says that i'm internally like that can't be right. but since i have too much time on my hands rn i decided to go through not just every buddy cole sketch but every buddy cole piece of media i can get my hands on and count every instance of buddy swearing

and i wasn't sure which words to count bc like. some people would say faggot counts as a swear and it's basically buddy's favorite word, but i know scott wouldn't count it so i'm not. then there's other grey-area-swears like "damn", "hell", "bitch", and "ass". i know buddy uses these (especially the last two) but again i don't think scott would count these instances as "buddy swearing" even if some censors might

so i whittled down my list to just the classic george carlin "seven words you can't say on tv" (which are shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker, and tits). even this list has kind of evolved to put some words in the grey area (personally i think "bitch" is far more of a swear than "piss" is, which isn't the point of the original george carlin bit bc that was more about how contextual language is and how it's weird words like "cock" are seen as acceptable when you're talking about the animal but these are the swears where there isn't that double-meaning) but this was the most solid list i could find to go off of for this study

(also ik swear words are cultural too, so there might be variation between what an american in 2024 considers a swear vs canadian in 1992 but fuck it i'm just going with the george carlin list)

and admittedly i'm not done rewatching every buddy sketch yet (i just finished chalet 2000 and i'm watching all buddy content in order) but holy shit i think scott might be right about buddy swearing???

like i was so dismissive bc of course buddy swears but if we only count the seven words you can't say on tv then so far i have only counted two instances of buddy cole swearing (stranded on a desert island, when he says oscar wilde's last word was something more like "SHIT!", and the phrase "pissed off" in outing celebrities, tho again is "pissed off" really swearing?)

and i already know scott doesn't count quoting or hypothetically-quoting someone to be buddy swearing bc in his newest show he says "fuck" while supposedly-quoting marsha p. johnson, so even the oscar wilde "SHIT!" might not even count!

and you might be saying but jessamine, you're deliberately choosing "seven words you can't say on television", and these were all on television, of course you're not finding much. but keep in mind: the kids in the hall were on HBO, and i can probably find sketches were all of these other words were used (tho fun fact in the last 2 seasons even tho they were allowed to say "fuck" the network put a limit on how many times they could say it per episode. the sketch where bruce and mark's couple confronts kevin the pizza man was supposed to have the word "fuck" in it like twenty times so everyone involved with kith who i've heard talk about it prefers the live version exponentially)

but also: when i say i'm watching every piece of buddy cole content, i mean every piece of buddy cole content. and maybe things will change in the last set of kith sketches or once i get into scott's post-kith buddy material, but even the buddy cole improvs from before the show don't feature buddy swearing. like what the fuck how was this a thing this early in the character's creation????? even in the improvs the only two instances of buddy swearing are quoting someone and saying "shit", and talking as himself and saying the word "piss"

long story short i have too much time on my hands and apparently buddy cole doesn't swear???? (depending on where you draw the line for "swearing")

[loonylupinblack3]

Shy

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: swearing, suggestive content

Summary: you have a crush on a certain co-worker but are too shy to tell him. so someone does it for you.

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: THIS WAS A REQUEST BUT WHEN I TRIED TO REPLY TO IT IT DIDNT LET ME AND DELETED IT INSTEAD (also jean is a meddling little shit in this and u just gotta accept that)

You watched him from across the hall greedily, eyes drinking in his panting form, the sweat coating his chest and back, the strained muscles underneath his wife beater tank top. Logan was a sight for sore eyes on a normal day, but when he was working out? He had you practically rabid for him.

You were sitting on one of the benches, a forgotten book in your hand you hadn’t glanced at in ages, preferring to treat yourself to the image of Logan Howlett hot and sweaty while working out. There were a few other X-men exercising alongside him, and others on the bench with you hanging out so you weren’t too out of place, but everyone could see the way you looked at Logan.

Everyone but Logan himself.

You’d joined the team a few months ago- 5 to be exact- after whispers had gotten to you of a safe space for mutants. Having hidden your true genetic code from everyone else in your life, you jumped at the chance of not having to hide anymore. With your unique skill set too- the ability to formulate and present illusions- you were an exceptional addition to both the X-men and the teaching staff.

You thrived at the X mansion. The kids loved you, you got along well with your fellow teammates, and you had suggested and helped act on several improvements to both the school and the team. You were a good addition, and the other mutants were grateful to have you there.

You’d just had one problem when acclimating to the school. Your teeny, tiny, incredibly small crush on your fellow professor, Logan Howlett. At first you really had thought it would be no big deal. Just a co-worker you had noticed was slightly attractive. That’s all. Other mutants had told you he was hard to talk to, and had a gruff, moody personality, so you’d thought the attraction would soon fade.

Unfortunately it had only grown. The first time you’d realised, shit, this might actually be a problem, was when you’d gone to get a glass of water in the middle of the night and found Logan leaning against the kitchen counter, shirtless, with a beer in hand.

You’d been so flustered, eyes continuously betraying you and straying to his chest that you’d blurted out the first thing that came to your head, “how’d you get beer in here?”

Logan had chuckled, observing you as he brought the beer bottle to his mouth for a sip. “Why? Want some Sweetheart?”

You’d felt heat rise to your face at the nickname, shaking your head. “No, I was just curious.”

Logan stared at you a second longer, eyes trailing your figure appreciatively before shrugging. “Your loss. And unfortunately I can't tell you how I got it. Gotta keep it a secret lest Xavier finds out.”

You were too flustered to argue so you’d just nodded, mumbled a quick goodbye, and quickly walked back to your bedroom. You hadn’t even gotten your glass of water. 

There had been other similar instances over the past few months. Logan just had a way to get under your skin, to cause your heart to go into cardiac arrest every time he looked at you, which made it hard to conceal your ever growing crush on him from literally everyone. Even your students knew about it, or at least had their suspicions, and you prayed they were too intimidated by Logan to ask him any questions about it. The last thing you needed was to get humiliated and have to pack up all your things and leave the home you had just created for yourself because you could no longer look any of your co-workers or students in the eyes again.

Especially Logan.

Things had escalated until you could barely look Logan in the eye anymore, and actively avoided him at all costs. The last thing you wanted to do was embarrass yourself in front of him, and though it was unpleasant you’d decided the best course of action was just to steer clear of him altogether.

Still, you allowed yourself some enjoyment, like watching Logan workout from afar while in a room full of people. The onlookers weren’t the best, but it was better than being alone with him when who knows what would happen.

“Like what you see?”

Storm’s voice dragged you out of your ogling, and you turned to her with a sheepish expression. “Maybe.”

She gave you a knowing look, raising her eyebrows. You ignored it, because you’d heard her suggestions many times before and found they didn’t align with your own interests.

“Go and tell him how you feel.”

And embarrass yourself when he inevitably rejects you? No thanks. You were more comfortable with keeping your feelings suppressed, continuously shoving them down, building a brick wall between them and you, to permanently keep them out. Yet for every single brick you added somewhere below you could feel three more being punched out, slowly destroying your barricades bit by bit. 

Your eyes strayed back to Logan, like they always did, yet surprise striked you when you couldn’t find him. Your eyes scanned the room like a man on a mission, only to realise too late Logan was heading towards you, a towel in his sweaty grip.

He greeted Storm with a nod before his gaze zeroed in on you, and you mentally added another brick to your shield, determined to keep him out this time. 

“Y/n,” he greeted, eyes never straying from your face.

You looked down, fidgeting with your hands. “Logan,” and, because you were incredibly weak willed- “did you have a good workout?”

You swear as you looked back up at him you saw the remnants of a smile on his face, but it was gone in the blink of an eye so you couldn’t be completely sure. You don’t think Logan had ever smiled at you, and you felt the bricks within you start to wobble.

“It was alright,” he said curtly, ever the man of few words. He lingered though, as if debating to say something, when it came out anyway. “I’d like it if you joined us next time.”

You felt your heartbeat increase. You felt the jump and the rapid incline as you processed what he said, your mind swimming.

“Me? But I just do illusions… I don’t have a fight worthy mutation.”

“Which is exactly why you should workout. Build your strength so you don’t need to rely on others and can trust your own body to do the job, regardless of mutations.”

It was the most you think Logan had ever spoken to you all at once, and you were suddenly feeling very dizzy. Logan wanted you to workout with him, to spend time with him. Could you imagine? Standing alongside him while he panted. Sparring and ending up underneath him, his entire body weight crushing you between him. It was almost too much to think about.

You cleared your throat, trying to clear your mind of unhelpful distractions, and found your eyes glued to Logan as he brought the towel to wipe the sweat from his throat, his muscles straining right in front you as he reached behind the back of his neck, wiping the sheen of sweat from his body.

You were staring, you knew that, but you just couldn’t find it in you to look away. It was a godly sight, Logan in front of you, sweaty and staring right at you. How were you supposed to look away?

“Uhm,” you mumbled when Storm stepped on your foot. If she’d noticed your ogling Logan certainly must have, and you felt heat rise to your face at the thought. “Yeah, maybe. I’ll think about it.”

Logan looked at you again, really looked at you, before nodding, slinging the towel over a shoulder. “I hope to see you there.”

And with that he walked away, and you felt the bricks tumbling, clattering away inside you, and you could do nothing to stop it until you felt bare and vulnerable, watching the man walk away with the realisation this might be more than just a silly crush.

You couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let yourself go too far, even though you could already feel yourself falling. You needed stronger defences, more barricades and walls. And if that meant more space between you and Logan, more avoiding and distance, well, you’d do it. You couldn’ let yourself go past the point of no return with him. You couldn’t.

Your avoidance of Logan had continued ten-fold. Whenever he entered a room you would exit. You would no longer spend time watching him workout or teach or do anything, really. You stayed as isolated from him as possible, and when you couldn’t you stayed silent, eyes fixed ahead of you rather than on him.

Others had noticed. You heard the rumours, whispers of a fight, a break up that occurred between the two of you. It was laughable, the idea that you and Logan had ever been together in the first place.

It was working though, or so you thought. You could feel your shields and barricades strengthening each day, and you continued to build them higher and higher, in the hopes you would eventually not need to avoid Logan, for he would no longer have any effect on you.

Until then you were determined to avoid Logan and spend as little time with him as possible. Unfortunately Logan did not share that sentiment.

You’d just finished up a class, instructing your students to have their homework prepared for next lesson and watched them all file out the door when Logan entered. It was so unexpected you hadn’t a chance to leave before he was upon you, his figure towering over your frame. His arms were crossed and he watched you with a frown on his face, yet you weren’t afraid of it anymore. Sure, you had been originally, but soon you’d discovered behind the frown was usually no ill intent, so you weren’t nervous.

Well you were, extremely so, but not about that.

“Oh, Logan,” you managed, swallowing thickly. “What are you doing here?”

Logan crossed his arms. “We need to talk.”

You winced. “We do?”

He let out an aggravated huff. “LIsten, I don’t know what I did to make you so pissed at me but it can’t be this bad-”

You interrupted him, confused. “Wait, what?”

He sent you a look. “You. Being mad at me. I don’t know why.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

Logan paused, looking at you with a scrutinising gaze. “Yes you are.”

You scoffed at him wrongly telling you how you felt. “No, I’m not.”

“So why are you ignoring me? And don’t say you haven't-” Logan said, noticing you’d opened your mouth to defend yourself. “I know you are. You have been avoiding me for weeks, and if you’re not angry at me I can see no other fathomable reason for why you’re acting like I have the plague.”

I frowned. “You noticed that?”

Logan scoffed. “Of course I noticed it. You don’t even come to training anymore, not even to watch like you used to. Why?”

You shifted uncomfortably on your feet. You obviously couldn’t tell him the real reason, otherwise all the hard work you’d done would be for nothing because you’d end up humiliated and rejected anyway, but you knew Logan could tell when someone was lying from their pulse spiking, and yours certainly would if you lied about this.

You grappled for something to say, anything, to shake him off your trail. “I have to prepare for another class-”

“You’re not preparing for shit until you tell me what’s wrong,” Logan practically growled. “I can stay here all day Bub.”

Well shit. You didn’t really have another choice. You were going to have to tell him about your feelings for him. Literally anything else would have been better. Anything else.

At that exact moment Jean walked into your classroom and relief bloomed in your chest. You were saved, you were safe. You could use Jean as an excuse and-

“She was avoiding you because she has the hots for you, Logan. Something every single person in this school knows except you.”

Well, not anything else apparently.

Logan let out a noise of surprise and looked at you, but your eyes were glued to Jean, horror and betrayal painted on your face. She mouthed ‘your welcome’ and left. What the fuck? Was that the only reason she entered, to butt into your private conversation?

“Y/n. Was what Jean said true?”

You opened your mouth and then closed it, looking like something akin to a gaping fish. “Define truth.”

Logan narrowed his eyes at you, not at all amused, and his silence forced you to continue.

You sighed, preparing yourself for the inevitable heartbreak to come. “Yes, it’s true, alright, but I never intended to act on it and I won’t act on it so you’re fine-”

“Who said I didn’t want you to act on it?”

You started. “W-what?”

Logan took another step until your chest was suddenly pressed against his. “Did I stutter?”

You felt like you were going to stutter if you said anything, so you sort of just… stood there. Waiting. For what exactly, you weren’t sure. Some clarity maybe?

Certainly not Logan grabbing you by the waist and kissing you, so firm and confident you couldn’t help but melt into his embrace. His hands were grabbing your waist, finding the dips in your curves and squeezing there, grabbing them and tugging you towards him.

His lips dragged across yours, adding an air of desperation to the kiss. You couldn’t help but bring your hand up to cup his cheek, thumb stroking his bearded jaw as he kissed you deeper, seeming for all the world like he was never going to stop. You were powerless to stop it, and you found you didn’t even want to. Your walls were crumbling and you gladly let them if it meant you could continue kissing this man.

Logan hefted you up onto your desk and you let out a gasp, muffled by Logan’s lips. He smiled into the kiss anyway, amused by your surprise, and placed his hands on your knees to part them so he could get between your legs. 

You immediately wrapped your legs around his waist, something he liked if the pleased grunt from his throat was anything to go by. His kissing became more fevoured, like he wanted to devour you, and you gladly let yourself drown in him.

That was until the school bell rang, startling you both out of the kiss. Or rather, just you, because Logan seemed content to move to your neck when your lips stopped responding.

“Logan,” you murmured. “I have a class to teach.”

Logan made an angry grunt and continued placing open mouthed kisses to your collarbone. You laughed and gently pushed him away, causing the man to growl and look at you with such irritation you’d think you interrupted his wedding or something.

“I’m busy here,” Logan said.

You had to physically swallow the breathless sigh threatening to escape your lips, instead saying, “we can continue this later.”

“We will continue this later.”

You smiled, almost shyly, which was ironic considering he was still between your legs. “Yeah?”

Logan moved forward so he could whisper into your ear. “Now that I have you Bub, I ain’t ever letting go.”

He pulled back and your smile widened, making a mental note to thank Jean when you next saw her. “I can live with that.”

[heechwe]

but daddy i love him | 𝐬𝐣𝐲

୨୧ pairing: sim (jake) jaeyun x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 10.2k ୨୧ genre: fluff, angst, smut ୨୧ tags: badboy!au, innocent!reader, opposites attract, sexual tension, corruption kink, dirty talk, fingering, oral (m + f receiving), 69, pet names (baby, angel, etc.), face sitting, protected sex. ୨୧ synopsis: Just because there's a new and seemingly bad influence in your small town, it doesn't mean you have to fall privy to his charms, no matter how beautiful he is. But when he takes notice of you, none of the gossiping wine moms can stop him from getting what he wants. ➸ shoutout to @kwanisms and @mini-mews for helping this fic come to fruition, ily guys sm and this is genuinely one of my favorite pieces ive ever written aaa.

“Have you heard about the new family who moved into town? The son is a real piece of work!”

“He’s twenty-one but acts like he’s still sixteen on that damn motorcycle. No class or consideration whatsoever!”

“Maybe they’ll keep him in check if they decide to come to church this weekend. You know Reverend Park has no time for miscreants and delinquents.”

The familiar crowd on your mother’s front porch greets you as you’re attempting to exit the house. They cool themselves off with their makeshift fans and drink your mother’s homemade lemonade in the Saturday sun, continuing to harp on the locals in town that they’ve known for years.

Somewhere in their conversation, they drifted to the topic of the new family that moved in across the street. Three days was all it took for them to begin spouting their judgemental observations, every act from the new middle-aged couple and their son fodder for their discussion.

You smile politely with every fiber of your being, despite your instincts to snap at them and be on your merry way. If only they knew how ironic they are, pointing fingers at others from their high horses when the town kept enough space for their dirty little secrets. “Nice to see you this morning, ladies.”

They say your name with grace, their tones all air with little substance. “On your way to bible study?” Mrs. Choi asks, gazing at you from the rim of her glass.

You shake your head. “Just tutoring.”

“With the Nishimura boy? What a sweet kid.” When Riki’s name leaves Mrs. Lee’s lips, all the women hum in agreement. “Such a bright future ahead of him.”

“Of course, as long as he passes English,” you joke. The women’s faces don’t change, not taking your teasing with an ounce of anything but seriousness. The bags under their eyes, lipstick smudged in the tiny corners of their teeth, and piercing attitudes begin to damper your excitement for the day. You bid them goodbye quickly with another smile, walking down the stairs and onto the path down the street.

As you turn down the sidewalk, still hearing the resounding chatter from the women, your thoughts run wild. Is this what life would be like when you were older, doing nothing but kicking your feet up on a neighbor’s porch with only other people’s business to fill your time? Spending endless days and nights at church, listening to the same sermons leave Reverend Park’s lips until you become as overly critical as they all are?

The screech of tires halts your thoughts in their place. “Watch it!” A young man’s voice pierces the morning air, making you step back even further. You hadn’t realized how far you had walked into the road until you were back on the safety of the sidewalk. You trip on a crack between the two slabs of concrete, falling backwards and meeting the ground hard.

“Shit, are you okay?” He takes his helmet off, immediately hooking it to his handlebars to check on you.

Sim Jaeyun.

You had not met him formally until this moment, but the motorcycle and undeniable looks gave away his status as your new neighbor. Your parents had decided to let the new family settle in before trying to visit and introduce themselves. If they could see you now, your maxi skirt hitched up to your knees and the boy barely a foot away from you, they would have had a field day.

Sure, you both are of age. Butlike Mrs. Choi, Mrs. Lee, and other local townsfolk always do, people will talk about such a compromising position if you aren’t careful.

All those thoughts fade away though when Jake kneels beside you, his face flooded with concern. His eyes linger on the broken skin on your legs and then across your flushed face. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head. “It’s barely a scratch. Sorry I almost ran into you.”

“More like almost ran into my bike.” He laughs, his expression one of relief as well as humor. “I’m just glad you’re in one piece.”

“Thank the lord.” You brush your hands on your skirt and begin to stand up, but Jake grabs you by the hand to help, taking all your weight with him.

“Thank you,” you say, brushing the free hair from your braid out of your face.

“You’re welcome.” He unclips his helmet from the bar and gestures back to his bike. “I can drive you to wherever you’re going if you want. I don’t have a second helmet, but–”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips, the thought of riding on the back of a motorcycle too ridiculous to envision given your status as the deacon’s daughter. What would people say?

Jake just furrows his brows, his lips turning up at the corners. “Is my offer that funny?”

“No,” you say, “I would love to, it’s just–”

“Sim Jaeyun!” The shrill sound of Mrs. Choi’s voice makes you take another step away from Jake, unaware you were as close as you were to him. His presence seems to be magnetic, just like his smile. “Stay away from her or so help me God!”

Jake turns to the old woman down the road and nods his head, trying to be respectful but clearly irritated from her meddling. “Yes ma’am,” he yells, stepping back and getting closer to his bike.

“Maybe another time,” Jake says, “when you’re not flocked by the whining wine moms.”

You laugh and nod. “Maybe.”

Jake rides away on his bike, the wispy ends of his hair your last picture of him before he makes a sharp turn at the end of your street.

“Why do I need to learn this?” Riki groans, laying his head flat against his desk. The church bells ring as he knocks his head in the same rhythm against the polished wood.

“Because you need to be able to interpret text if you want to go off to college, Nishi. Otherwise you’ll be illiterate and an embarrassment to the entire town!” You put on your best harping, disapproving voice. It makes Riki laugh as he lifts his head. You’re glad at least the younger kids appreciate your sense of humor, unlike the older brood flooding your hometown.

“Alright, fine.” He opens his copy of Heart of Darkness, beginning to read the page in front of him. “I avoided a vast artificial hole somebody had been digging on the slope…”

A knock on the classroom door makes you and Riki turn. Yeri opens it with a shy grin, saying your name with the same nature. “Someone’s here to see you!”

“Who?”

“Some cute guy on a motorcycle? But don’t tell Jungwon I said that!” She runs back out the door and leaves you puzzled. Surely it’s not Jake. You just met him; he wouldn’t make the effort to try and follow you to your tutoring session, especially at the church of all places.

You head to the window to see Jake sitting against his bike, looking around at his surroundings. He’s wearing the same leather jacket and gray jeans, his white shirt marked with several spots of sweat. Riki comes up behind you, making a sound of acknowledgement. “Oh, that’s Jake!”

“Jake?” You look closer. “I thought his name was Jaeyun.”

“Yeah, but I call him Jake.” He laughs. “He’s my cousin.”

You nod your head, taking in his words. Jake’s sudden move made a lot more sense, seeing as Riki’s mother was getting sicker every day. She must have needed some help from her family to not only manage her household, but make sure Riki stayed on track.

“He probably wants to see you. Yeri must’ve gotten it all mixed up.”

Riki grabs his phone, scrolling through texts with his thumb. “Actually, he did mention almost running over a cute girl on his way to work.” The young boy smirks. “I’m gonna assume that’s you?”

You blush, the flush on your cheeks making you feel hot. “Whatever. He’s probably just picking you up!”

“I brought my own bicycle, dude. And as cool as Jake is, his driving makes me nauseous.” Riki begins packing up his belongings on the desk as you wonder what Jake would want to say that hadn’t already been said earlier. Surely he had no interest in talking to you beyond another apology for almost killing you earlier, not that you would have noticed.

As your thoughts continue on, you barely hear Riki’s parting words. “Have fun making out with my cousin!”

You venture outside and are greeted to Jake’s soft smile as he looks you over. “Didn’t expect you to be teaching my cousin how to read.”

You laugh. “When would that have come up? Before or after I fell face-first on the sidewalk?”

“Technically, you fell on your ass.” He looks over the cuts on your leg again. “Still doesn’t hurt?”

“Barely remember it.”

“Damn. Didn’t realize I was so forgettable,” he teases. You shuck your backpack over your shoulder, pretending his joke didn’t land. But you can’t help how your mouth curves into a grin. “Wanna take me up on that ride now? I don’t see any wine moms in sight.”

Being clear headed and not in the midst of a compromising position, you take a better look at Jake. He may look rugged from the neck down, muscles standing out through his jacket, but his face is incredibly youthful and vulnerable without a touch of hardness. Maybe the wine moms had gotten it wrong; maybe Jake’s actually a stand-up guy bundled up in a lot of leather.

Before you can answer, your father seems to appear from thin air. He wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Mr. Sim, pleasure to meet you officially.”

Your father holds out his hand for Jake, and Jake takes it with a steadfast grip. “Nice to meet you too sir. My mother was telling me how much you’ve been helping my aunt since she can’t attend services anymore.”

“Akemi is a pillar of our church. It’s only right to take care of one of our own as the deacon.” Your father squeezes you tighter to his side. “Glad to see you and my daughter have met. I hope she’s made a good impression upon you.”

“Yes sir. Very much so.” He smiles in your direction. The dimple in his cheek makes your heart flutter in your chest, the butterflies undeniable.

“Well, please tell your parents to come to ours soon for dinner. It would be a pleasure.” Your father begins the quick walk to his car, the silent request for you to follow him clear in his stern posture. You give Jake an apologetic smile before you leave, hoping your eyes hold the promise of taking him up on that ride someday.

When you’re both out of earshot and in the confines of your father’s car, he turns to you with a frown. “Do not get yourself involved with that boy. He doesn’t strike me as very forthcoming.”

You stutter out an excuse. Surely the first day of knowing Jake wouldn’t be the last. “F-Father–”

“Listen to me, sweetie. I know what I’m talking about.” He starts the car and begins the drive home, tightening his fists on the steering wheel. “I mean it. Do not see that boy again.”

The next morning, you’re sitting in one of the front pews with your mother, Yeri, and her mother. You see your fellow townsfolk in attendance in the other pews, Jungwon being one of them, Yeri’s longtime boyfriend. Mrs. Choi and Mrs. Lee look like they are partially focused on the attendees, but also on their own gossip.

All of you are dressed in your best outfits, your hair wrapped in a bun to maintain the peak of modesty. It doesn’t seem particularly realistic for a higher power to be judging you for your hairdo, but you gave in to your mother’s ridiculous requests as always. “We are important people in this community, darling,” your mother said as she stuck the umpteenth bobby pin in your hair. “If they can’t trust us, who can they trust?”

Riki sits behind you, his pew empty save for him. When you offer the empty spot next to you before the procession starts, he shakes his head. “Jake and his folks will be here any second.”

Your gut tightens, the words of your father playing over in your head. You know you have to heed his orders at all times, but the excitement you feel at the prospect of seeing Jake is unavoidable.

A minute before your childhood friend Heeseung sits at the piano to play the beginning of How Great Is Our God, Jake and his family walk inside. Jake’s impeccably dressed, clad in a red dress-shirt and suit pants. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing a handful of tattoos you didn’t notice the day prior. He has his mother’s arm in one hand and a bible in the other, looking completely out of place but incredibly mesmerizing.

He winks at you when he sits down, making you turn your head back to your friend at the piano. You follow in your mother’s and Yeri’s lead, singing alongside them and forgetting the new buzz in your veins. You can feel his eyes on you throughout the songs and sermons, and you should say that you don’t enjoy it, but you don't kid yourself. His attention makes your body tingle in all the right and wrong ways.

You excuse yourself in the intermission, walking outside until you’re a good ten paces away from the church. You take several pins out of your hair, grunting. The incessant tools had been scratching your scalp uncomfortably for the past three hours, and it feels like freedom taking them out one at a time.

It isn’t that you don’t believe in a higher power or the teachings your father and Reverend Park have supplied you with your entire life. The town is just too suffocating on days like these, setting you up to feel like you aren’t good enough no matter how hard you try every day to perfect yourself.

The fashion show of your humble, presentable outfit, the whispered chatter from your community, the watchful eyes of holy men. They all make your skin crawl, that itch only intensifying with every day that passes. How could you stay in such a small room for years and feel misunderstood by everyone? 

Jake saunters up to you, making you gasp in surprise. “Jesus Christ!”

He smirks, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I thought you weren’t supposed to say his name in vain.”

You shrug, smiling in relief to find it’s just him and nobody else. No-one to meddle, judge, or question your absence. “I’ll just say a few words of penance. I’m sure he’ll forgive me.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Jake chuckles and steps closer to you, his eyes lingering on your dress. It’s incredibly modest, the only skin showing high above your cleavage. but the look in his eyes still makes your nerves tremble.

 You wonder what thoughts are swimming in his head and if a majority of them are impure. Would it be so wrong to confess that you feel the same? That whatever he’s imagining mirrors your own fantasies ten times over?

“The updo doesn’t suit you,” he says finally.

You giggle and cross your arms. “It doesn’t, huh?”

He steps closer, so close you can feel his breath on your skin. It lingers across your neck and shoulder blades. You shudder, hoping he doesn’t notice how his presence affects you. He reaches behind you and takes hold of the hair tie keeping your bun together. He expertly undoes it, your hair falling in waves around your shoulders.

Before he walks away, the church bells signaling the recommencement of the procession, he whispers in your ear, “Much more breathtaking with your hair down, angel.”

The next time you see Jake, he’s across from you at your family’s dinner table, all laughs with Jungwon and Yeri as your father passes out the rest of the side dishes. Riki is also there, discussing his mother’s treatment with your mother and Jake’s parents.

You can’t help the way your eyes attach to Jake across from you. It’s almost a form of punishment that you were made to sit in such close proximity, the weight of his stare on you swallowing you whole.

The feeling of his hand in your hair, his mouth against your ear–it was all so incredibly inappropriate. You shouldn’t have thought about that day last week with such excruciating frequency, but you did. You thought about it when you heard the wine moms whispering about Jake on your porch, when Yeri and Jungwon talked about him as you studied, and when you were alone at night. 

In your dreams, it was even more painful. In a perfect world, he would take his hand from your hair and keep it on your neck, holding you close. He would move his lips from the shell of your ear to the side of your neck, kissing and tasting what skin was available to him in that moment to make you come undone.

Yes, sitting across from him is torment. But the alternative is worse, not seeing him at all and having to conjure images of him alone in the quiet of your bedroom.

“Deacon, sir,” Jungwon pipes up from his spot next to Jake, addressing your father directly. “I was going to study with Jaeyun and Yeri at my house if you wouldn’t mind your daughter tagging along.”

The muscle in your father’s jaw clenches. He’s clearly unhappy with one of the attendees being Jake, but he hides it behind a smile. “It’s up to her. What do you think, sweetie?”

On one hand, you should absolutely say no. Jake may take you into a random spot of Jungwon’s house and make any resolve you still have disappear with the flick of his wrist. Even in the company of your friends, you know no place is safe when he’s around and close to you. And were you willing to crumble so easily?

At the same time, the distance is eating away at you. You can’t take another charged glance in your direction, words unspoken but begging to be released. If you have to catch his bedroom eyes on your body one more time, you may just snap in front of everyone, and care little when you do.

“Sure. I’d love to, Wonie,” you say with a grin. “Nishi, you want to come too?”

Riki shakes his head, enjoying the fruitcake your mom set out. “I’ll stay. Someone has to help clean up.” Jake’s mom squeezes one of his cheeks. Riki’s face suddenly turns pink from his aunt’s affection, making everyone laugh.

On your way out the door, your father catches you by the arm. He whispers, “No later than midnight. Understood?”

On the cusp of 10 PM, you want to protest that time with your friends is already so limited, but you obey with a nod and walk out the door. 

When you get in the backseat of Jungwon’s car, Jake too comfortable beside you, you feel your body flicker to life. “So,” you say, “your house then, Won?”

Yeri and Jungwon laugh, a conspiratory look in both of their eyes. “We’re just gonna make a quick stop first.”

Kiss ‘Em Creek was the unofficial name of the lake that ran through your town, a spot for teenagers to spend a few hours alone with their friends or partners. It wasn’t scientifically-correct, but it stuck nonetheless, many of the locals taking advantage of the not-so-secret hideaway. What went on there you only heard about through Yeri and the wine moms’ conversations, their voices littered with disappointment and condemnation.

Jungwon parks his car and turns his eyes to meet yours in the rearview mirror, that scheming smile still playing on his lips. “Ready to take a dip?”

Your eyes widen. You shake your head at a rapid pace, making your friends and Jake chuckle. “No way,” you say.

“C’mon babe, live a little!” Yeri winks and exits the car, Jungwon hot on her heels. The two of them begin to strip to their underwear, eager to jump in the water together. Jungwon picks her up in a bridal carry, Yeri laughing the entire way as he takes the first step into the awaiting lake.

As the two lovebirds continue heading towards the water, you and Jake sit in comfortable silence, your heartbeat slowly rising at the prospect of being alone in the car together. No distractions, no disappointed parents, no judgemental hags. Just the two of you under a cloud of stars and beautiful moonlight.

“I didn’t know if you would come tonight,” Jake says, filling the silence with a quiet chuckle. “Thought you were avoiding me at all costs, like I’m some kind of plague.”

“No!” You turn in your seat to face him. His expression is teasing but holds undercurrents of disappointment, clearly confused where your feelings lie. And he has every right to feel that way. One minute you’re wishing he would pull you closer, and the next you feel it’s better he keeps his distance. “I just don’t know what your intentions are.”

His eyes darken and his lips curve into a beautiful but intimidating smile. “Is it not obvious?”

You squeeze your thighs together, a wave of heat spreading through your bones. “Maybe I just want you to say it out loud.”

He scoots closer to you, his chest a heartbeat away from yours. “Well, to start,” he says, “I would really like to kiss you.”

You smile. A breathless laugh leaves your lips, eager to know what it would feel like to touch his mouth to yours. “I’d like that too.”

Jake runs a hand through your hair and rests it on your cheek. His touch is as fragile as the tension between you. “Then what are you so afraid of?”

You shut your eyes, trying to come up with the right words and falling short. “It’s just everyone–”

“Fuck everyone else.” He forces you to look into his eyes, the words leaving his mouth being some of the truest ones you’ve ever heard in your life. “You’re not a bad person or a sinner for wanting what you want.”

“I know that.”

“You may know it but you don’t believe it.” Jake’s lips ghost over yours, his breath tickling your cheeks. “Stop thinking about what everyone else thinks of you. Think of yourself for once.”

Maybe Jake’s right. All of your choices in life have been dictated by what your parents, friends, and total strangers have felt. If you listened to your own heart, you would have left all of them in the dust by now, chasing what you really wanted far away from this place.

At the same time, you’re glad to be in this car with Jake. He’s so close to you, telling you to take the leap and choose yourself for the first time in a long time.

When you press your lips to his, the feeling of his mouth on yours soft and tentative, you know you can’t wake up tomorrow the same person. This choice will ripple into all the choices you make from this moment on, but you don’t seem to care.

All that matters is his mouth, taking more control and setting a fire deep in your belly. He presses his tongue to the juncture of your lips, diving inside without protest.

You moan into his mouth, feeling one hand firmly pressed on your neck as the other runs down your shirt to squeeze at your breast through your clothes.

“Fuck, tell me to stop,” Jake says with a heady whisper, still kneading your breast with his palm. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”

You shake your head, moving closer to him to the point you’re halfway on his lap, legs intertwined with his. “So help me God, don’t stop now.”

He snickers, pecking your lips again. “You said his name in vain again.”

You roll your eyes as he chuckles into your neck. “That wasn’t the first thing on my mind.” You move your lips to his cheek. “Or the second.” They trail down to his neck, taking your fantasies and etching them into his skin. “Or third.”

“Fuck,” Jake curses, holding you tight against him. “You’re too good at this.”

You smirk. “Contrary to popular belief, you’re not the first person I’ve ever kissed.”

He laughs, the rumble of it vibrating against your mouth. “I don’t care as long as you keep kissing me.”

“Wasn’t planning on stopping.” By the time you reattach your mouth to his, you’re straddling his lap. His hands are nestled on the small of your back, wanting to inch down further but unsure where or what your boundaries are.

You take the initiative, suddenly bold, and put both of his palms on your backside. “If you wanted to touch my ass, you could’ve just said so.”

Jake licks his lips, his accent coming out in a husky whisper. “I want to touch you in a lot of places. Your ass just happens to be easily accessible right now.”

“Oh really?” You giggle. “Care to enlighten me?”

Jake sharply switches positions, your back against the expanse of the backseat as he towers over you. He rubs his hands across the outside of your thighs, eager but patient. “Gladly.”

He kisses your neck, suckling and licking with perfect pressure, making you whimper. “Jaeyun,” you say out loud, his name coming out like a question more than a statement.

“Use your words, angel. Tell me what you want.” His eyes pass over your face, your kissable lips and lust-blown irises. You’re too entrenched in him now to walk away from this car the same girl, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

It may end badly, crash and burn completely like everyone expects it to, but that’s the last thing you care about right now.

“I want you to touch me.” You take one of his hands on your thighs and place it over your underwear, its center damp.

“Jesus,” he says in wonder, rubbing his fingers against the cotton.

“You just said–oh,” you stop short when you feel Jake’s fingers against your clit. The sensation makes you buck your hips up into him, him discovering the bundle of nerves without trying hard. He’s clearly happy at the wetness he finds. He rubs your folds in the same fashion, biting down on his bottom lip hard.

“You feel so good already. So perfect,” he whispers, taking hold of your lips again with his own while he swirls his fingers in and around your essence. He switches between teasing your clit and rubbing along your pussy, his movements lewd yet graceful. Only when he puts a finger inside of you do you gasp and look at him directly, your eyes clearly giving away your fear.

“What’s wrong, angel? Did I do something?” Concern floods his face, but he doesn’t take his hand away.

“I’ve never gone this far,” you confess, looking to your side to hide your embarrassment.

“Hey, look at me.” He turns your head to face him again, fingers laying under your chin softly. “We can stop now if you want. I don’t want you to feel pressured into doing anything you don’t want to do.”

His response makes your heart clench. Most guys, you’d imagine, would be pissed off or pleading with you to continue on, to do what they wanted and enjoy the moment. That was how Jongseong was, pouting the entire time after you told him to pump the brakes on your makeout sessions.

Somehow, with Jake, it feels right to continue. You suddenly have no anxiety clouding your thoughts or expectations weighing on your heart. You kiss his lips tenderly and shake your head. “No, I want this. I want you.”

A cheshire-cat grin spreads across his face before he goes in for another kiss. He runs his tongue along the inside of your mouth as his finger slides across your folds once again. He plunges it deep inside of your heat, your body adjusting to the new sensation with surprising ease.

You thrash lightly underneath him, matching the tempo of his finger with abandon. He slips another digit in, groaning at the feeling of your soft, gummy walls becoming accustomed to him. “You’re taking my fingers so well, angel. ‘S fucking incredible.”

You gasp and feel the fire from earlier heightening in intensity, spreading from your belly into the other seams of your body. It makes your toes curl and your hand press against one of the doors of Jungwon’s car, needing something to clutch onto while feeling yourself losing what’s left of your control.

“Jaeyun, I think I–”

“I know baby,” he says, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’re going to feel so good in a second, I promise. Don’t be afraid.”

His thumb makes contact with your neglected clit, rubbing in rapid motions as he pumps his fingers faster in and out of you. You suddenly become overloaded with pleasure; its immensity is something you’ve never felt before. You feel it coat the back of your mouth and take what’s left of your rational senses, your body moving on its own accord as you ride out what’s remaining of your orgasm.

You blush furiously when you come back down to earth, giggling like a schoolgirl as Jake kisses your sweat-drenched cheek. “That was…amazing.”

Jake chuckles, a smirk painting his features. “You’re amazing.”

You tuck your face in your hands, embarrassed but still enraptured by what you just experienced. He pulls one hand away, taking it in his own, his expression suddenly shy. “So, I guess this is the part where I ask you on a proper date.”

You laugh and sit up, placing your panties back around your hips and adjusting your skirt. “I would hope so!”

Jungwon and Yeri choose that moment to run back into the car, their hair drenched but their bodies properly dressed once again. Jungwoon looks at the two of you in the backseat and grimaces. “Not in my car, man!”

Despite the warnings from your parents and the wine moms, you and Jake had become inseparable within a month’s time. It took many late-night impromptu meetings and secret rendezvous to keep your relationship private, but you had succeeded thus far. And it only made the moments you both shared that much more special.

Riki had kept your secret, keeping his eyes out for any prying townsfolk and covering for his cousin and you if need be. Yeri and Jungwon also cheered you on from the shadows, hoping one day you could be public like they were without criticism.

Sitting in the field near the lake, a picnic blanket set across the grass, you have your head in Jake’s lap while he absentmindedly turns strands of your hair into miniature braids. It’s a beautiful Wednesday afternoon, the two of you occupying the resounding forest with no outside influences.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful your hair is?” Jake asks, kissing your forehead before he takes another batch of strands in his hand. If he has to pick one of your best attributes, in his words, he’d say it was a tie between your lips and your hair, the two of them constantly making his heart race. You called him a liar, but as time revealed, he was nothing but honest with you every day, and not just about what turns him on. 

Over time, you discovered his fears, his ticks, his aspirations past the small town you both found yourselves in. You admire his vulnerability, how open he is when sharing the thoughts that occupy his mind.

“At least three times already,” you tease, running your hand across his leg.

“It’s not bad to hear it a fourth time, right?” He plants another kiss to the crown of your head. He drops the braid he’s just made across your face, making you laugh.

“I’d rather hear how work went today,” you say, getting up to press your back to his chest, snuggling into him.

He shrugs, wrapping his arms around you tighter. “Not much to talk about. Working with roofs all day isn’t exactly exciting, angel.” 

You know Jake doesn’t want to work at his dad’s construction company for the rest of his life. However, it provides stability, and that matters a lot to him. He knows what it did to his aunt when Riki’s father walked out early on in his cousin’s life, and he wouldn’t wish that lack of support on anyone.

“At least you’re not running a tutoring center and a daycare in the same church,” you joke, your tone anything but humorous. The brood you dealt with every day was completely unlike Riki. They were kids that were carbon copies of their parents, children that would one day become exactly like their absentminded fathers and speculatory mothers. It put a taste in your mouth you couldn’t stomach.

You fall into steady silence, the uptick in both of your nerves ebbing away the longer you hold each other. Sure, Jake hates roofing as much as you hate disciplining whining toddlers and helping apathetic tweens with mathematics, but it doesn’t matter at this moment.

All that does is each other, enjoying the midweek sunset and the sounds of the birds flying overhead.

“What would you do if you were somewhere else?” Jake asks into the crook of your neck.

You grin, imagining a world of possibilities. The question never came up before, not from him or anyone else. It opens up a plethora of choices in your mind, but you narrow them down quickly, knowing what your heart truly desires.

“I’d like to teach,” you answer. “Really teach, maybe at a university. Something like poetry.” You turn to look at him, a newfound fire in your eyes. “Yeah.”

Jake smiles back at you, moving stray strands of hair from your shoulder to rest his head there. “I think you’d be great at that.”

“What would you do?”

Jake ponders the question, going over it in the same way you were moments before. You see realization wash over his features, and it makes you smile. “I think I’d write. Not literature or anything, but songs maybe? Teach music in the meantime. Still have to make money somehow, y’know.”

You giggle and push him down on the picnic blanket, running your fingers through his hair. “Sounds like a plan.”

He nods, sharing your happiness. “Maybe a kid and a dog can fit somewhere in that plan.”

Chuckling, you raise one eyebrow. “As long as I’m not having a baby out of wedlock, that sounds perfect to me.”

He turns you both over, covering your body with his and kissing you intensely. The passion runs from his body to yours, your heartbeats matching in their strong beats against your chests. “Perfect,” he whispers, his lips meeting yours once again.

It may be too soon to call it love, but you know you’re tiptoeing that line, and you wouldn’t mind falling headfirst on the other side of it as long as Jake’s there waiting for you.

“Are you sure they don’t know I’m here?” Jake asks, hesitant to walk up the stairs to your bedroom.

“It’s fine! They’re at a seminar all weekend with Reverend Park and his son, I promise.” You kiss his lips before running up to your room. Still on the fence, you hear his tentative footsteps trudging behind you.

Another few months rolled by, and your parents had softened to the idea of Jake being around more often. He showed up with his parents to church every Sunday, even if you both snuck off to make out in the backwoods when nobody was paying attention.

He’d stick around for the deacon’s sessions with Akemi, brightening her spirits with his guitar and a couple of songs to replace the ones she missed during normal processions. It helped that she seemed to be getting better, slowly but surely, with treatment and daily prayer.

When you heard your father call Jake a “nice kid,” you knew they were turning a corner in their relationship that you wished for since the night Jake kissed you in Jungwon’s car.

Now, that doesn’t mean they would be happy with finding him in your bed on a Friday night, but you’ve broken enough rules at this point. What’s one more?

“You’re trying to get me killed,” Jake jokes as you rip his shirt from his body, discarding the article of clothing on your bedroom floor. You sit on your bed and marvel at the muscles on his chest and stomach, all of it yours to caress and kiss at any time.

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll follow you to heaven,” you tease, pulling him closer to kiss his body. Each press of your lips to his skin makes him tremble, cursing quietly to himself at the feeling.

“With the way you’re touching me, I doubt either of us will make it there.”

You giggle and link his mouth to yours. You moan when his tongue hits the roof of your mouth.

The intentions you had for tonight definitely involved numerous bouts of kissing, but the way Jake’s making you feel will certainly end up with his face or fingers between your legs. And as good as that sounds, you don’t want him derailing you from completing your mission.

There had been so many moments of him giving you pleasure up to this point, you wondered how he had stayed so composed and content after without expecting anything in return.

So, tonight, you decided to give him a bit of satisfaction, even if you’re walking into such activities without any kind of road map. Yeri gave you a handful of tips, but doing it for real is another beast entirely.

“Jaeyun, wait,” you say, taking his face in between your hands.

He looks up at you with eager eyes, wondering why you pulled him away from your neck. “What is it?”

“I want to take care of you this time.” You say, hoping your expression gives off the confidence you’re trying to portray. “I’ve never done it before, but—“

“And you don’t have to, angel,” Jake says with a dopey, relaxed smile. What on Earth and heaven did you do to find a guy like him?

“Please,” you beg, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. “I want to try.”

Jake’s conflicting feelings are evident in his eyes. Surely any man wants his girlfriend to go down on him with the same eagerness that you're giving him right now, but he doesn’t want you to feel obligated. 

In his mind, pleasure isn’t about some sort of trade-off. He makes you feel good because he wants to, not because it’s some duty he has to fulfill and expects to be paid back for later.

But, you asked so nicely and your eyes shine up at him so beautifully. He feels his resolve crumble enough to concede and do what you want.

You begin to unbutton his pants, your fingers twitching not from fear but excitement. When you pull down his jeans fully and see the outline of his bulge in his briefs, your mouth falls open slightly at the size.

Could it fit in your mouth if it was that big?

Jake chuckles and takes your hand to press to the gaping material covering him. “It won’t bite.”

You look up at him and begin to stutter, unsure how to continue once you take off his underwear. “D-Do you want me to use my hands first?”

“Whatever feels right to you, angel. I trust you.” He rubs his thumb across your cheek, and it calms all the nerves that came to the surface.

It’s in those three words that you find the courage to pull the remaining article of clothing off of him, taking in the sight of his cock in all its glory.

You gulp hard, trailing your eyes from the tip to where it adjoins to the rest of him. You’ve never seen one up close before, and you feel like you’re invading his privacy as you stare at it for another long minute. But who can blame you?

“It’s all for you, baby,” Jake whispers. “Do whatever you want.”

You feel a sharp pang of heat at the center of your thighs, his words spurring you on. You spit into your hand, as Yeri instructed, and wrap your hand firmly around Jake’s cock. With an easy but deliberate pace, you look at Jake directly to see if you’re starting off on the right foot.

And boy were you.

Jake hisses at the feeling of your hand encasing him, loving the tightness of your fingers as they continue sliding up and down his dick. He had envisioned this many times in the solitude of his bedroom, images of you and your beautiful body writhing underneath him enough to get him off. But those nights were nothing compared to this.

“Are you ready for my mouth now?” You ask timidly. Jake wants to laugh at how innocent you sound, the words coming so naturally off of your tongue.

“Yes, angel, please,” he answers, wanting to caress you by the hair and guide you down to his awaiting, leaking cock.

You move closer until you're an inch away from his tip. Flattening your tongue to take it into your mouth, you keep watching Jake’s face for the right signals.

His mouth opens, a satisfied whine leaving his lips. You feel a wave of pride at the fact he’s enjoying it so much, egging you on further.

“Your mouth feels so perfect wrapped around me,” he confesses. He soaks in the sensation of your lips and teeth softly running over the veins of his cock, your head bobbing across his length skillfully. How can an innocent and dutiful daughter like you give such mind-blowing head?

He can’t ruminate on the answer long, releasing a guttural moan as he feels his tip hit the back of your throat, the gag that rumbles from you making his cock even more sensitive.

“Angel, I’m gonna come soon,” Jake warns. “If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, let me know now.”

You look up through your lashes at him as you continue sucking on him with fierce passion, swirling your tongue across his tip. 

His hand is wrapped firmly in your hair now, fucking your face as softly as he can without forcing anymore of himself down your throat. When you take a hand to cup his balls, softly kneading them between your fingers, he’s done for.

He whines pathetically as his seed shoots inside your mouth. The taste isn’t particularly pleasing, but you milk it for what it’s worth to watch him fall apart so perfectly under your attention.

The orgasm rocks through him with an unshakeable amount of pleasure, his body completely helpless as he continues to spurt into your mouth. He can only hiss and whine as you continue to touch him, letting him come down fully and taking all of him without complaint.

Jake breathes in deeply when he gains clarity again, taking you in his arms and shoving his tongue deep in your mouth. “That was probably the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten,” he states, running his fingers over your face with adoration.

You scoff and roll your eyes, his words making you shy. “I doubt it, seeing as that was my first one.”

“It was!” Jake puts a hand on his heart. “Swear to the savior himself.” Before you can rebut, Jake takes your legs in his hands and moves you to the edge of the bed.

You wake up to the hard knocks at your bedroom door, the morning sun peeking out of your window to prove the previous night has long gone.

“Honey? What did we say about locked doors in this house?”

Your father’s booming voice makes you jump up from bed, smacking Jake hard on the shoulder and chest to wake him up.

“We had an odd feeling at the hotel, so we came home early,” your mother says as you shake Jake from his sleep.

“Ow, what the fuck,” Jake grunts, his voice not quiet enough to go unnoticed. You curse yourself and the reality in front of what’s about to happen, knowing full well your parents heard him on the other side of the door.

“Sweetie, who’s in there with you?” Your mother’s shrill but concerned tone makes you cringe. Jake’s eyes bulge in response, quickly leaping from the mattress to pull on his clothes in haste.

Just when you throw your dress from last night over your head and Jake buttons up his pants, your father slams open the door with his shoulder. Your parents gasp and yell at the sight before them, the man they began to grow comfortable with in a compromising position with their only daughter and precious child.

“What in God’s name is he doing here?” Your father asks no-one in particular, stomping towards Jake’s shirtless figure and yanking him by the neck.

“Daddy, stop!” You plead, scratching and clawing at his frame to pull him off of your lover.

Your mother begins blubbering, teary-eyed before you. “Oh honey, what did he do to you?”

“Nothing,” you scream. “Please leave him alone and let us be.”

“I told you to stay away from him.” Your father stares you down, eyes blazing with fury. “Not only did you betray me, but you betrayed the sanctity of your purity. It’s a disgrace.”

Jake coughs, your father’s hands tightening around his neck. “The only disgrace is the two of you holding her back, like she’s some weak bird in a cage,” he croaks. “She can make her own decisions.”

“You stay silent, you insolent pest,” your father growls, yanking Jake out of your room and down the stairs. By the time you and your mother make it out to the bottom step, your father has thrown Jake out and onto the porch.

“Stay away from my daughter, or you’ll have another reason to pray you don’t end up burning in hell.”

“Stop it!” You step in between your father and Jake, the latter putting on what’s left of his clothes. People begin to hover too close to your family home, suddenly entrenched in the scene playing out before them.

Jake kisses your forehead and walks away in the direction of his parked bike, unsure what else he can do unless he wants to truly end up six feet under. 

 Your father grabs you by the upper arm and pulls you in the direction of your porch, but you resist with all your might. “You can’t make me go back in there.”

“I am your father and you will listen to me,” he grunts, holding on tight.

“Daddy, I love him!” You scream as you yank your arm away from your father, your inner strength giving way. “If you can’t accept that, I guess I’ll just have to burn hell with him. Better than wasting another second here.”

You run toward Jake’s bike and sit behind him, cinching your arms around his waist. He smiles to himself, feeling the press of your chest to his back as he puts his helmet over his head. “Are you sure about this, angel?”

You nod furiously, not bothering to look back at your red-faced family. “More than I’ve ever been.”

All you focus on is his motorcycle rumbling to life before you speed away. Your hair blows in the wind as you both escape the horrified stares of the local vipers.

You end up at a motel on the other side of town, far away from the scandal that’s surely rocking your small community by now. The deacon’s daughter running away with the bad boy next door? What a tragedy!

You run inside to miss the upcoming rain, both of you shivering from the barrage of pellets that did land on your skin. You settle onto the mattress as Jake drops the small amount of belongings he had in his possession on the dresser.

He turns to you with quiet concern, arms splayed out on the furniture as he looks at you, searching your face for any lingering doubt. “No regrets?”

You shake your head, exhausted but glad to be out of that house. “None at all.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief and sits down beside you on the bed, rubbing your thigh with his fingers. “I’m sorry.”

Your brows knit together, confusion pouring over you. You take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers. “You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should be apologizing to you.”

 You feel tears build at your eye ducts, your voice suddenly growing thick when you recall the scene from an hour ago. “I’m sorry my father was so horrible to you.”

“Hush, it’s okay,” he puts his other hand on your face. He kisses your lips tenderly and gracefully. How did nobody else but you see he possessed the most kind nature of anyone you’ve ever known?

Jake moves his head, his lips curving into the smile that always takes your common sense away. “I love you too, by the way.”

Your confession from earlier hits you like a heavy rock, your eyes going wide and your face turning pale. “That wasn’t the way I wanted to say it.”

“Then say it now,” Jake urges, your face resting gently between his fingers.

There’s no fear or pressure when the three words leave your lips, only the feeling of a weight lifting off of your chest. “I love you, Sim Jaeyun. I love you with my whole heart.”

His face lights up, the words seeming to set aglow something deep within him. The only right reaction seems to be in the form of his lips attaching to yours in a passionate kiss, your shared love creating a beautiful path forward for the both of you.

He whispers his next words so lightly, you almost assume the statement is a figment of your imagination. “Marry me.”

You feel your face contort into a mixture of disbelief and elation, needing to hear him say it again for it to truly resonate. “What?”

“Marry me,” he repeats, his smile stretching across his face. “Marry me now, or in three months from now, or whenever you want. Just say you will.”

You exhale a breath of astonishment, unsure if he knows how much you want to say yes, to make this as real as it sounds on his lips. He leaves your side with a kiss to your temple to grab something from his jacket. 

He comes back in record time, standing in front of you and twiddling the black box in both of his hands with anxious fingers. “I brought it with me to your house last night, I just didn’t know how to ask then. But I do now.”

Like in all the stories you’ve read and movies you’ve seen in your lifetime, he sinks down onto one knee before you. You place a hand over your mouth as he opens the box, a ring with an opal-shaped diamond cushioned in the center.

“Would you please do me the honor of being my wife?” Those words on his lips, visibly shaken from his own question, make a thousand butterflies flutter inside your chest.

Months ago, if you knew then you would end up here, from the edge of the sidewalk to now, you would not change a single moment. The world had been so gray before, you didn’t know what it was like to step in the sun until he came into your life. What other answer is there?

“Yes, yes, yes,” you respond, tears flooding your eyes as he shakily places the ring on your finger. It fits just right, the stone at the center sparkling in the darkness of the motel room.

You kiss Jake’s lips with all the force your body possesses, certain there’s no better future than right beside him.

The feeling of the gold band around your finger makes Jake shudder as it touches his cock. Your body is nestled perfectly on top of his as you take what you can’t put in your mouth between your fingers.

He laps up your essence with his tongue, ecstatic to have his face covered in your juices and smothered if need be by your wet cunt. If people think wedding nights are magical, engagement nights have to be a step up.

“Fuck, Jaeyun, yes,” you roll your hips into his awaiting mouth, his tongue available for you to lay your slit onto. The expletive leaves your mouth like honey, the feeling fitting for such a dirty word.

He knows exactly how to make you fall apart and be put back together, and the thought of doing this for the rest of your life makes you want to cry again from the pure happiness inside your core.

Jake takes his lips off of your pussy and sits up. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he takes you into his lap on the bed and kisses you fiercely. You taste yourself on his tongue as he skillfully takes your breath away with his lips. When you part, he says, “Angel, I know we said we’d wait, but I don’t know how much longer I can handle not being inside of you.”

You whimper at his words and suddenly rock your center into the tip of his cock, making him groan in the process. “I mean—we’re just starting early, right?” 

Jake releases a joyous laugh and kisses you hungrily, his face in a constant state of ecstasy since you said “yes” hours ago. “Right.”

 The anticipation makes you even wetter, crawling to the head of the bed as Jake grabs a condom from the bedside table. If there was one thing he had promised, he swore he wouldn’t get you pregnant. Not yet, anyway.

He rolls the rubber over his cock before joining you on the bed, lining up perfectly with your center. He rubs his tip against your folds, biting his lip at how easily it gets coated in your essence. “Ready?”

You nod eagerly, a smirk filling the entire bottom half of your face.

He pushes the tip in, the pressure a foreign feeling you had never experienced before. It took time and practice to get used to the size of his fingers, but this is another level of fullness that takes your breath away.

Once Jake’s partially inside and gives you a moment to adjust, he asks, “Can I move?”

You nod your head, holding onto his shoulders for support as he begins to thrust inside of you. He loves to see his cock disappearing between your legs, your body eagerly taking him in and stretching itself out to accommodate him. He loves the way you whimper at the movement of his hips and the pleasure you’re receiving.

Better yet, he loves you. He loves all of you, from the nonsensical words you speak in your sleep to the wrinkle between your eyebrows when you get mad. You’re all his, and he’s grateful to be the only one you call yours.

“We may never leave this motel,” Jake says, his words breathy as he continues moving his hips. “I could stay inside of you for the rest of my life, angel.”

“I love you so much,” you say, inching your hand between your bodies to roll your clit between your fingers.

“I love you,” Jake says. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you like he wants to pour all of his emotions from his being into your soul, just so you know how deep his love for you goes.

It’s all so overwhelmingly beautiful, you feel the swell of your release cresting over you like a tidal wave. “Baby, I’m gonna come,” you whisper, your mouth open wide from the moans and cries you cannot suppress.

Jake groans and slams his hips into you harder, filling you to the hilt repeatedly. “Come, angel. Come for me.”

You cry out as the orgasm takes hold of your body, your fingers working on their own accord on your clit as you fall off the edge.

Jake stills not a second later, releasing into the condom and taking the last remnants of his energy to thrust inside of you a few more times.

He pulls out and throws the rubber in a nearby trash can. His sweaty body clings to yours, hands rubbing up and down your arm tenderly as he kisses the curve of your shoulder.

You see the flash of your ring in the glow of the motel’s neon sign, and you think about how the night could not have gone any better.

Jake may be a bit reckless and not what you initially imagined for your future, but now that you have him, you wouldn’t give him up for anything. All the parts of you that stayed buried for so long have resurfaced because of him, and you could not be more grateful.

With your left hand a touch heavier than it was some hours ago, you fall asleep to the sound of the rain hitting the window and Jake’s rising and falling chest.

You walk out of your mother’s house, happy to have made a visit with her before she ran off to do her morning errands.

What you’re not pleased to encounter is the same crowd of women huddled with their homemade fans and cups of lemonade. They weren’t there when you arrived a few hours ago.  Of course they show up when you have no chance of escaping them, like the vultures they are.

“Mrs. Sim,” Mrs. Choi says, her tone entirely made of stone with little warmth. “Pleasure to see you.”

Your new surname gives you indescribable amounts of happiness. It took your parents some time to get used to, but eventually, they realized you put your heart in the right place. Your father took his sweet time getting there, begrudgingly admitting a short time ago Jake is a very acceptable son-in-law, the turnaround of his perception of your husband complete.

You give the crotchety ringleader a fake smile and attempt to walk away, but Mrs. Lee interjects. “How’s your mister doing working at the church now?”

“Great,” you say, genuinely happy to talk about a topic you care for. “Jaeyun loves the kids. Little Yuna might actually be a guitar prodigy from what he’s told me.”

They all coo, practically synchronized in their sips of lemonade and fan flurries.

“Soon enough you’ll have one of your own, I’m sure,” Mrs. Choi remarks with sarcasm, her red-lipstick-stained front teeth on full display.

“Not too soon now,” Jake suddenly says, walking up the pathway to your mother’s house and taking you in by the waist. “My wife has to finish her Masters first. How else is she gonna start teaching at the community college?”

My wife. No matter how long it’s been since you officially got married in your church, that day a year ago forever ingrained in your memory, it still warms you to the bones hearing those words leave Jake’s lips.

The women all express signs of agreement, some nodding while others hum.

“We better get back home now, but you ladies have a nice day!” Jake bids them goodbye and walks you both down the stairs with his hand on the small of your back. Even if he were to be more than the perfect gentleman in front of them, they would still linger around with pesky eyes and constantly moving lips.

“They’re still betting we’re gonna crash and burn, aren’t they?” Jake whispers, teasing you with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

You shake your head. You fall more in love with him every day that passes, no matter what the people around you do or don’t see. They may have their opinions, but it won’t shake the foundation you’ve built. “Well, they’re sure to be disappointed if I have anything to say about it.”

Jake’s eyes widen, his expression humorous yet surprised. “Easy, angel. Don’t want to have to tear my wife off of a nosy wine mom.”

Your heart aches at his words, him fully aware of what two of them in particular do to you. “I love you.”

Jake grins, inching his face closer to yours. “I’d love nothing more than to kiss you right now, but what would everyone say?” He asks with a mock face of horror.

You shrug without much care, grinning. “Someone once told me ‘fuck everyone else.’ And right now I couldn’t agree more.”

Jake laughs before he places a gentle kiss to your lips, the sun radiating off of him in waves as he pulls you closer.

No matter what anyone in your small town has to say, your choices are yours; you’re perfectly happy with how your life has turned out whether they think so too or not. And you will always choose Sim Jaeyun, now and forever.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[roanofarcc]

LIKE MOTHER LIKE FATHER LIKE DAUGHTER

pairing. tyler owens x harding!reader - part 2!

summary. you had made a name for yourself in the storm chasing game; it was in your genes, being the daughter of famous chasers jo and bill harding. tyler found your knacked for knowing just what the storm’s thinking a little infuriating and incredibly impressive.

 warnings. fem!reader, reader gets injured, mentions of blood and injuries, probably inaccurate meteorological info & medical info, angst & fluff, some hurt/comfort on this fine Tuesday night.

word count. 3.7k || masterlist

a/n. twister has been my favorite movie FOREVER so here's a little homage to the og storm chasers <3

You were ten when you went storm chasing for the first time. Growing up, you’d heard your parents' stories every time there was a shift in the weather. Instead of the typical childhood fear of storms, you had always been fascinated by them; your dad, Bill Harding often joked it was in your genes, the lack of fear. With some light convincing of your mom, Dr. Jo Haring, she agreed to take you storm chasing for your tenth birthday. 

The twister had been small, barely an EF1, but it was wondrous. There was something dangerously beautiful about it that drew you in just as it had your parents when they were younger. From that point on, you knew you wanted to be just like them, chasing storms up and down Tornado Alley. 

And with the stubbornness passed down by your mom, that is exactly what you did. You were damn good at it to. 

“It’s lookin’ like a big one to the southeast,” a member of your team said, slugging an arm around your shoulder as she looked up at the sky, squinting slightly at the sun. “But the radar says we’ve got another brewin’ west. She's pickin’ up speed but it’s still developing.” 

You hummed in response, gazing up at the sky too, judging which one was your best bet by observing the clouds in either direction. “Let’s hang back and go for the one to the west, I like her chances better.” Your teammate, Frankie, grinned as she nodded and headed off toward the other three members of your small, but mighty team. 

As you waited for the storm to flesh out a little more, you sat on the bed of your truck, dangling your legs off of the tailgate. The fresh air filled your lungs and the faint smell of incoming rain brought a smile to your lips. Every time you got ready for a chase, you felt ten years old again, giddy and excited for the thrill of the storm. You thought back to the photo albums you’d looked at a hundred times over of your parents and their numerous storm-chasing adventures. They never pushed you into storm chasing, as it was a dangerous line of work, but from a very young age, it was clear that your fascination with storms wouldn’t be quelled with a simple meteorology degree and a job behind a desk. 

Storm chasing was in your blood, and your knack for it was known among other storm chasers. 

“Well, if it isn’t the doctor herself,” a familiar voice filled your ears, belonging to the one and only Tyler Owens. He approached your truck, hands on his hips and a certain cockiness that excited you. You liked a challenge, and you loved showing cowboys up. Tyler was good at what he did, but you were just a little bit better, and it both irritated and impressed him. 

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” you said, earning a light chuckle from him. 

“You don’t look in a hurry. That storm to the southeast won’t last forever.” You shrugged and he narrowed his gaze just slightly. “You’re not going after that one, are you?” 

“Damn,” you sighed. “You’re getting harder to trick, Owens.”

He laughed, light and sweet. It was easy to see how he garnered such a large online audience. Tyler was easy on the eyes, drove straight into tornados with a grin on his lips, and had the knowledge of storms to back up his insane behavior. You’d never admit it aloud, but he did impress you, even if you thought some of his actions were reckless even for a storm chaser.

The two of you had an interesting rapport. It toes the line between rivals and friends, the odd territory in between. You loved teasing him, and he tried to outsmart you even if it never worked. 

“Maybe you’re getting too predictable,” he said, a teasing tone in his voice. 

“Och.” You faked hurt, placing a hand over your heart. “What is it you always say? If you feel it, chase it. If you think the one to the southeast is gonna show her face, go for it.” 

Tyler studied you for a moment, contemplating what kind of game you were playing with him. All you did was smile at him in return, which led him to roll his eyes. “Unfortunately, you’re rarely wrong,” he sighed. 

“It’s a blessing and curse.” 

“You’re impossible,” he said. “But the west it is. It better not let me down, Dr. Harding.” You only used that title in more professional settings. That had been a condition of your mother. She had gotten her PhD and believed you could too. It was tough, but you earned it; only, you didn’t expect some cowboy to use it to lightly mock you when you proved him wrong.

“You have my word,” you said. 

And you were right. The storm to the west produced a beautiful tornado. You and Frankie got close while the rest of your team hung back. Rain pelted the windshield as you grew closer, watching the dark funnel tear through the expanse of fields, picking up speed on the ground. Somewhere along the way, Tyler’s unmistakable red truck ripped past you, heading into the heart of the twister, which you rolled your eyes at. 

“She’s a beauty!” Frankie hollered, holding her camera at the ready. 

It was a great chase, but the thing about tornados that was both thrilling and dangerous was their unpredictability. You knew the storm would be big, and the closer you grew the more power you saw that it had. The other truck carrying the rest of your team had communicated the growing intensity of the storm via the radio. But it looked to be on a steady path west, so you saw no issue tailing it while Frankie snapped pictures.

The rain only grew heavier and heavier, almost completely obstructing your view. It wasn’t until a tree crash landed directly in the middle of the road did you realize the tornado had changed directions suddenly. A startled scream torn from Frankie lips and you slammed on the breaks, narrowly missing the tree. 

“Holy shit,” she whispered, leaning up against the dash and trying to see through the rain wrap. “It’s right there. It’s right there! We gotta go!” 

You quickly threw your truck in reverse and backed up, but you didn’t get far. A lone semi that had been traveling skidded to a stop just a couple hundred feet behind you. The way they had stopped at the sight of the tornado left its trailer sideways across the road before it was abandoned by the figure hunkering down in the ditch that lined the backroad. 

You hissed under your breath, trapped between two objects and a tornado that shook your truck. There wasn’t enough space to fly around the semi. The ditches on either side of the road were too deep to take quickly and another minute trying to maneuver around the semi would only lead to your truck getting swallowed by the storm, picked up, and tossed around like a rag doll. 

Your parents had prepared you for a kind of situation like that, but that didn’t shake your panic. With a rapidly beating heart, you put the truck in park and yelled at Frankie to get out. You both stepped out into the storm as the tornado loomed closer and closer. Wind whipped all around you along with debris. You grabbed Frankie’s hand and together you sprinted toward the ditch. 

Frankie lay on her stomach, and you lay beside her, covering her head the best that you could. Whatever happened, you had always told yourself your teammates' safety came first. You were the one who talked them into storm chasing with you. So, when danger arose, you felt the responsibility of keeping them safe. 

The screeching of winds was so loud in your ears that it almost disoriented you enough to miss the sharp piece of debris that swooped down at the tornado that passed along the field just opposite of the ditch, not directly over top of you but much too close for comfort. Something smacked against the back of your head, but you closed your eyes and held onto Frankie in hope of shielding her from any other flying objects. 

You weren’t sure how long you two lied there, but it felt like a lifetime until the tornado traveled further away. The winds died down but your heart beat stayed quickly pounding against your chest. 

Sitting up, you felt the sharp sting settling in the back of your head, but you ignored it at the sight of Frankie’s cut leg. 

“Shit,” you muttered, grabbing her knee to examine the clean slice down the back of her shin. 

She wiped back the wet pieces of her hair and let out a shuttered breath. “Holy shit, that was crazy.” You pulled off your sweatshirt and wrapped the wet fabric around her shin. “What’re you doing?” 

“You’re bleeding.” 

“It’s fine,” she said, trying to brush it off, but you heard the pain in her voice, along with the tremble of lingering fear at your close call. You knew the dangers of storm chasing and the possibilities of injuries, but it always felt different to you when it was a member of your team, one of your friends. 

A couple minutes after you tied your sweatshirt around her shin and helped her up from the ditch, the truck carrying the rest of your teammates rolled up, hooting and hollering at the size of the storm until they saw the state the two of you were in. 

“Take her back to the motel. If the bleeding doesn’t stop take her to the hospital.” Frankie opened her mouth to protest, but you cut her off. “I’m serious.” 

“What about you?” another member of your team asked. 

You looked down the road at your overturned truck, sighing sadly to yourself as the pain in the back of your head throbbed. “I’ve gotta call someone for my truck. I’ll meet you back at the motel later.” 

They were hesitant to leave you but eventually agreed. Down the debris-littered road, you hobbled back to your truck. It had been a gift from your parents after you graduated college; it was special to you, but it was totaled thanks to the tornado. 

With a groan, you heaved open the door and tried to gather your belongings, but a wave of dizziness washed over you. You staggered backward, reaching up to touch the tender spot on the back of your head. Something wet coated your fingers and when you pulled your hand back, it was painted red. Frustrated, you tried to take a deep breath and calm yourself down enough to find your cell phone. Unfortunately, the cut was a little worse than you wanted to admit, and you felt blood drip down the back of your neck. 

Dizzily, you sat down on the road, blinking back the pain and wooziness. A slow creep of panic started to take hold as the pain intensified and the world started to spin just slightly. 

With one hand placed firmly on the back of your head, you rubbed your temple with your other, trying to think clearly but it became increasingly more difficult. You missed the hum of an engine nearby, but a slam of a door startled you. 

“Harding!” Someone yelled and you blinked slowly, keeping a hold on the back of your head as you looked up to see Tyler Owens bee-lining right toward you. He kneeled in front of you, brows furrowed and lips pulled in a small frown. “Hey, are you all right?” 

“Yeah,” you said quickly, once again trying to push away the dizziness that plagued you. “I’m, uh, just looking for my phone. I gotta call someone for my truck.” The words felt heavy in your mouth, which couldn’t be a good sign. Whatever struck the back of your head hit it hard and the blood that leaked from the wound wasn’t helping. 

He studied you for a moment, his gaze landing on your hand pressed against the back of your head. “You hurt?” You started to shake your head, but that only caused little black dots to temporarily pepper your vision. Tyler wasn’t an idiot; he reached up and carefully pushed your hand back, stopping when he saw the blood that started to drip down your arm. He cursed under his breath and yelled something at whoever sat in the passenger seat of his truck. 

“Hey.” His voice became soft, comforting even. “We’ve gotta get you to a hospital.” 

“I’m fine,” you inisted, even though every thing you felt inside your body proved that to be untrue. You just hated not being able to do something yourself; you hated needing help. Your father said you interited that from your mother, while she said you got it from your father. Truth was, they both had their air of stubbornness and you was born with double. 

Tyler shook his head. “No, you’re not.” He stood to his feet and gently tugged on your arm in an attempt to help you stand. Begrudgingly, you let him help you. Standing up, the world spun faster and you felt panic swell uncomfortably in your chest. You swayed catching yourself on Tyler’s arms as they grabbed your shoulders. “I’ve got you,” he said. Maybe it was your slightly disoriented state, but his assurance and hands firmly holding onto your arms made some of your panic recoil. As much as you wanted to be okay, you knew that was not the case. 

He knew that too, and helped you into the passenger seat of his truck before he instructed one of his fellow Wranglers to keep pressure on the back of your head with whatever they could find in the backseat. You winced as a crumbled up shirt was held against your head, but the moving truck overwhelmed you with dizziness that made the physical pain of your wound the least of your worries. You didn’t want to pass out but your eyes felt heavy. 

Tyler noticed it too, and placed a hand on your knee, giving it a squeeze and a shake. “You gotta stay with me, okay? You gotta stay awake.” 

“M’trying,” you muttered. 

“You were right about the storm,” he said. “But aren’t you always?” 

A pained smile fell across your lips. “Was that a compliment?” 

He laughed, driving quickly down the road with one hand gripping the wheel tightly. “Yeah. You’re hard to say something bad about. You know your stuff, better than me, that’s for sure.” 

“My parents taught me,” you said, desperately trying to keep yourself consciousness, but it grew more difficult by the minute. 

“Do they still chase?” he asked. 

“Not much anymore. Sometimes if a storm’s close, they’ll take a drive. But they always say they’ve had their fun.” They also said they shared enough close calls to know it was time to hang it up. You know they worried you’d find yourself in one too, but you’d always been careful and rarely got yourself into a situation you couldn’t get out of, until now, that was. 

Darkness encroached on your vision, threatening to force your eyes closed. Some the backseat, you heard one of the Wrangles call Tyler’s name. He turned his head, but you couldn’t see the concerningly red-soaked shirt that made his stomach churn and caused him to press down on the gas harder. Your head lulled to the side and your eyes fluttered close. Vaguely, you heard Tyler call your name and felt him shake your knee, but you couldn’t open your eyes or open your mouth. Everything fell dark. 

-- 

Tyler had spent his fair share of time in hospitals. He’d been bucked off a bull more than once, resulting in his mother dragging him to the hospital and threatening to make him quit. Eventually she held to her threat when he shattered his nose and gained a nasty concussion. 

Being at the hospital for himself was one thing, being there for you made him realize why his mother used to be drenched in worry. He nervously drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair in the hospital room. You were asleep, a fresh bandage wrapped around your head and with a minor concussion. The cut on the back of your head required a couple stitches; you were lucky, all things considered, but Tyler really hated seeing you like that. 

To him, you’d always been unreal. A second generation storm chaser so accomplished. Not only did you know your stuff, it was clear how much you enjoyed it. You lit up at the sight of storms, and Tyler couldn’t help but be in awe. There was a competitive nature to storm chasing and as much as he wanted to be annoyed by you always being two steps ahead of him, he couldn’t. He was just impressed. 

Tyler wasn’t sure how or when that admiration turned into something that teetered on affection, but it felt more than it had been before seated at your hospital bedside. He’d never felt his stomach drop like that before, when you passed out in his truck, Boone holding a bloodied shirt to you head. Even after the doctor said you’d be just fine, he felt on edge. 

The door to your room was pushed open by a nurse who led in two more people, who he instantly recognized: The Hardings. 

He stood up quickly and watched as your mom rushed to your side, brushing a hand across your cheek with a deep frown. “Oh, baby girl,” she sighed.  

The nurse offered your concerned parents a polite smile. “As the doctor said, the concussion was minor so all she need is some rest for the couple of days to a week. She should wake up soon and we'll see how she’s doing, then the doctor will let you know when she can be discharged.” 

You dad rubbed your mom’s back like he was trying to ease the heavy worry that shined in her face, but he too looked just as worried with a crease across his forehead. 

Tyler lightly cleared his throat, gaining your parents’ attention. "Hello, ma'am, sir," he greeted them.

“You must be the one who brought her in,” Jo said, and Tyler nodded in response. “Thank you. We’d been trying to call her, after we saw that storm, but she never answered and I…I just had a bad feeling.” 

Bill rubbed the light stubble on his chin. “No wonder she’s knocked out; I don’t think you’d get here otherwise. Stubborn, that kid.” 

A found smile spread across Tyler’s lips. “She kept saying she was fine until she nearly passed out on me. We only got a couple miles before she did pass out; scared the life out of me,” he said, running a stressed hand through his hair freed from his hat. The second you passed out in his truck, he nearly broke every traffic law. He wasn’t sure he’d never been quiet that scared, which was something he wasn't sure how to feel about.

Your mom furrowed her brows at Tyler’s words, something glinting behind her eyes until it shined in recognition. “You’re that storm chaser she’s always talkin’ about,” Jo said. “The one online.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Bill said, nodding in Tyler’s direction. He couldn’t tell if it was disdain or indifference in the man’s voice, but Tyler was too hung up on the fact that you talked about him to care much. He didn’t know that filled him with an odd sense of pride and warmth. You two weren’t exactly friends but you were more than acquaintances. It was more like a nice, workplace rivalry that he enjoyed a lot more than he’d admit. 

A small groan sounded from the bed, and everyone turned as your eyes fluttered open. Your mom was quick to your side, speaking quietly under the hum of fluorescent lights. 

You started to mumble something about your truck that Tyler couldn’t quite make out, but your dad seemed to understand immediately. He said he’d take care of it, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he headed out into the hall with his cell phone in hand. 

Tyler felt like he overstayed his welcome; you were in better hands with your parents there. He collected his things from the chair, garnering your attention. 

“Tyler,” you said, pushing yourself to sit upright. “Thank you.” 

He smiled. “No problem, doctor. I couldn’t let one of the best chasers be out of the game, now could I?” 

“So you admit it? I’ve got you beat.” 

“I said one of,” he joked. “But you may have one or two legs up on me. Not for long though. I’ll catch up.” 

Something in your smile made him want to sigh in relief, but he held it back. “Not a chance.” 

“Then you better rest up; I’ll see you back out there.” 

Bonus!

It took a little longer for you to bounce back, but the second you felt like yourself again, you were right back at it. Morning was supposed to bright a slew of storms to Kansas, so you and your team hightailed it to the state, finding a cozy little motel already occupied by other storm chasers. You spotted Tyler’s truck instantly, followed by a strange turn of your stomach. 

You hadn’t seen him since you woke up in the hospital, slightly surprised that he stayed with you until your parents arrived. Since then, your mom had managed to bring him up at every opportunity, not so subtly hint at what a pair the two of you would be. You brushed her off, but a small part of you wondered what would happen if you hung around the cowboy a little more. 

“Look who’s back!” Tyler’s voice sounded the second you hopped out of Frankie’s beat-up but sturdy truck; you were saving up for a new one, something even nicer that you could doctor up for chasing. 

He approached you with a beaming smile, flashing his teeth. “I just couldn’t stay away,” you replied. “I didn’t miss anything too crazy, did I?” 

Tyler shook his head. “It seemed like mother nature saved the good ones for you. They’re talkin’ some big ones tomorrow.” The giddy feeling that accompanied storm filled your chest, and the company of Tyler heightened it, strange and new but not completely unwelcome. Maybe it was time you gave into his charm a little more.

[messrmoonyy]

- The Forbidden Fruit

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Request- I NEED ARTHUR TO STEAL DUTCHS GIRL AND SHOW HER A REAL MANS LOVING. FILTHY PASSIONATE LOVING. WORK YOUR MAGIC

A/N- I got incredibly carried away with this. Is basically prawn with no plot honestly. And far softer smut than I think you intended it to be but. Here we are. Enjoy.

Warnings- 18+ | implied toxic relationship ( reader is in love with Dutch van der Linde what can you expect here ), smut: affair, Arthur being desperate to please!!!, fingering, oral ( reader receiving ) , unprotected p in v and he accidentally finishes inside oops, like the tiniest amount of cockwarming ( WC-8.9k )

AO3 | Masterlist - requests are open :)

Arthur didn’t involve himself in Dutch’s relationships. He stayed polite to whatever young woman he had hanging off his arm at the time, but that was about it. He’d seen too many girls come and go- usually in floods of tears at being dismissed by the man that had seduced and charmed them into loving him. Just working his way through shiny new plaything to plaything, hiding his unending sorrow for Annabelle under the skirt of some new girl. 

Unfortunately you were no different. 

In your defence, he supposed, you had lasted far longer than the rest. The only real exception to that being the famed Annabelle herself. But as was almost inevitable, your time in the honeymoon phase was slowly crumbling down around you. 

Arthur did wonder if it was simply because of the current stress levels in camp. They had all been on the run for longer than he cared to try and count, but after the mess in Blackwater they had reached new heights of being hunted. It had never been this bad. Nothing had ever gone this wrong. Because before everything had gone to complete shit, he’d actually seemed quite taken with you. In truth Arthur actually had begun to consider the idea that Dutch really did love you. Had finally been able to move on from the weight on his heart of his dead lover. 

But no. 

Arthur was observing the same pattern as always, it had just taken far longer with you. And that just seemed to make it all the more cruel. 

He barely even looked at you most days now. Barely uttered a few words in return to any question you asked. 

And the arguing was growing ever more fierce. It was practically everyday. 

Arthur didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way Dutch treated you. Didn’t like the way Dutch was treating anyone lately. But you in particular had never been anything but nice to him, kind. Sweet. Incredibly naive but sweet. To Arthur too. Some of the girls Dutch had strung along had been vile, rude and entitled and stuck up. But you? You were a genuinely nice person it seemed. And maybe that was your greatest flaw, for someone like that did not belong with Dutch Van Der Linde. 

In fact Arthur had come to like you from a distance. The times he had spoken to you you had been interesting, intelligent. Far cleverer than him and he had always liked that in a woman if he was honest. 

But still you clung to Dutch. Though your patience with him of late seemed to finally be wearing thin. 

Dutch had never really been one to be ashamed or afraid of airing his dirty laundry within the gang. Whether that be packing on the PDA in camp in a way that often made Arthur want to vomit up his breakfast, or the even more puke inducing sounds of the two of you making up all night long. So arguing was no exception to that either. 

And today was no different. 

“ you barely even look at me! I’m right here! I always have been, I’ve always been such a good girl haven’t I? I do as you say. And look at how you repay me! “ Arthur sighed as he dropped a stack of bills into the box, successfully recovering yet another of Strauss’ debts for him. You were both screaming at each other again, the tent flaps pulled down as if that would over any form of soundproofing. It was the camp's regular ambience now it seemed. 

He did feel sorry for you, he really did. You’d left everything you had for Dutch. Some beautiful, intelligent, well spoken girl. Heiress to her daddy’s mining fortune up north, used to the finer things but seeking some adventure. And Dutch had offered you both. Drowned you in jewels and gifts- though unlike the ones you had once owned the ones he gave were not his to give- Shown you off like a shiny new toy on his arm. Expressly informed Miss Grimshaw that you were not to be lifting a finger, that you would not have to earn your keep with chores like the others. 

You earned your keep by looking beautiful beside him, by boosting his ego with your constant devotion to him, by letting Dutch use you for his own source of pleasure and by the sounds of things- that Arthur truly had no choice but to overhear- not getting very much back in return. 

“ You know I don’t think I’ve ever met a more selfish woman in my life! “ Arthur sighed and sat down on his cot, debating whether or not to make some attempt to get the sleep he had been planning the entire long journey back to Clemens Point. But his tent was but a stone's throw from Dutch’s. 

“ I have needs too Dutch Van Der Linde!” Everyone else in camp didn’t seem to mind it though, most of them preparing to settle in for the night. Whether that be passing out on their bedrolls or drinking by the fire. But Arthur wasn’t sure he could put up with another moment of the damn yelling. 

“ oh? You have needs? “ Dutch’s voice was condescending. Mocking “ I give you everything! You are acting like a spoiled child”

“ a child? A child!? “ Arthur stood back up again, deciding he’d fare better trying to sleep on the damn ground rather than next to the likes of you and Dutch. So he headed out towards the edge of camp, hiding himself in the woods by the water. He slumped down against a tree with a heavy sigh and wished he’d thought to pick up a bottle of beer on the way. 

But it was no matter. He was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the fighting anymore, but close enough that if he was needed anyone calling his name would be heard. 

He looked out across the water, enjoying his rare moment of peace. It was a clear night and a full moon, the reflection bouncing off the water in the most beautiful way. He pulled out his journal and started to sketch it, wishing he could capture its beauty better. 

‘ Dutch and the girl were arguing again. Got out of earshot for a bit to try catch some sleep. Thought the water and the moon looked mighty pretty ‘ 

He scrawled underneath when he was done, tucking it back into the satchel discarded at his side. Javier's guitar had silenced back in camp now and he figured everyone had gone off to bed. But he was quite content there by the water, so dropped his hat over his face and settled in to try and catch a few hours himself. 

He was just dozing off when he heard the sound of boots marching quickly through the undergrowth, snapping twigs as they went. And then the soft sound of someone mumbling to themselves. He silently hoped whoever it was would keep well away from him. But the boots grew nearer and came to a halt not so far away. The crackle of a match being lit and a heavy sigh. 

“ thinks he can talk to me like that? Bastard. Bastard he is. I’m a lady I deserve better than. Than that “ 

You. 

He cleared his throat lightly to inform you that he was there, but unfortunately still seemed to startle you. 

“ Christ! Gave me a damn heart attack Arthur “ he placed his hat down with his satchel with a sigh and looked up at you. In the light of the moon reflecting off the water he could see your cheeks were tear stained, the glow of the end of your cigarette illuminating your face further and showing your makeup in streaks. 

He couldn’t lie that it made his heart ache for you. He didn’t particularly have any solid feelings for you, but he did feel sorry for you. It was hard not to feel sorry for the woman seduced by Dutch. 

And you truly were a cut above the rest in his opinion. Beautiful as the early morning sun and, when you weren’t screaming at Dutch, as kind and warm as it too. But maybe that was fitting. Because much like the sun you could bask people in warmth, but burn them too. Beautiful and bright but scalding and he found he couldn’t look at you for too long, no matter how many times he wanted too. Simply blinding his eyes with your flaming beauty and having to turn away. 

But maybe he was just getting caught up in his metaphors. 

“ shouldn’t be out this far from camp “ you simply shrugged, taking another drag of your cigarette “ ain’t no one nice lingerin’ in woods at night miss” even if no Lemoyne raiders were sneaking around the trees, there were plenty of species of wildlife that would happily do a number on you. Chew off a leg or bite you with poison fangs. You didn’t know how to take care of yourself. You couldn’t handle a gun, didn’t have a single survival instinct in you. 

Dutch had quite made sure of that, he’d heard you ask once or twice. And had been denied. Charming you with some string of words about how you were far too delicate to be handling a gun. To leave it for the men. 

“ you’re lingering in the woods aren’t you Mr Morgan? “ he chuckled and shrugged. 

“ and I ain’t that nice. Point proven lady “ 

“ not like Dutch would care if someone took me anyway. He’d probably be thankful “ your voice was hoarse from the shouting and he couldn’t tell if you were going to cry again or not. You took a long drag of your cigarette before seeming to suddenly remember something, dipping your hand into the waistband of your skirt and pulling out a pack “ sorry my manners. Want one? “ he took one with a nod of thanks “ can I sit? “

You sat down carefully beside him then with a long sigh, tucking your legs beneath you, and leant forward so he could light the cigarette between his lips with the end of yours. 

“ thanks “ you both sat quietly for a short while. Smoking and watching the ripples in the water. He didn’t mind it actually, as much as he had been slightly annoyed at you disturbing his attempt to sleep. You were decent company. 

You rarely strayed from Dutch’s side, but on the odd occasion you had and Arthur had stumbled upon you having a moment to yourself at the edge of camp it had been quite nice. So he didn’t mind sitting there with you, company. For you both. 

“ I think you’re nice. By the way “ you said to break the silence, refrenching his previous comment of bad men lingering in the woods. 

“ No offense to you Miss, but you’re in love with old Dutch. I don’t think you’re particularly qualified to be sayin’ whether folk is nice or not “ he said it teasingly in some hopes of making you smile. And it did. A little. 

“ maybe not “ he watched you bring your cigarette to your lips again, glancing at your hands. Nails perfectly trimmed and not a single speck of dirt or sign of a scar. Hands that had never had to lift a finger. Ever. It was an interesting contrast to his own. Calloused and scarred and bruised “ but Dutch he… he…Can I ask you something? “ 

“ Sure “ he said and flicked his cigarette away. 

“ Do you think I’m beautiful Arthur? “ you asked meekly. Your face was sad. Lingering innocence yet to be wiped away by life somehow, the kind that only remained because you had lived a life so sheltered. Even with Dutch you were as sheltered as could be “ and don’t lie. Please “

“ I think you’re beautiful, sure “ you turned back to the water again, tossing your own cigarette before promptly lighting another. 

“ Dutch doesn’t. Not anymore. Barely even looks at me “ Arthur ran a hand over his face, not entirely sure what he was supposed to say to you in the situation. At all “ I know I know I don’t expect you to agree. You two you’re…you’re like two peas in a pod aren’t you? “ you said with a small laugh, but it held no humour. You took a long drag of your cigarette. 

“ me and Dutch it’s… we go back a long way. But… I will agree the way he’s been treatin’ you. Ain't nice. Not when you done nothin’ but be loyal to him for so long “ you turned back to him again and gave a small smile. It was like a wave of relief had washed right over you. 

Someone was finally listening. 

“ I think he’s got his eyes on Mary-Beth “ you mumbled, red stained lips wrapping around your cigarette again. Much like how he had found himself admiring your hands he now found himself admiring your lips. Soft and plump and stained red in the way they often were. 

He blamed it on his fatigue. 

“ he’d be a fool to give you up. You’re kind, loyal, hell you might jus’ be the most beautiful woman I know. He’s in a weird place right now. He’ll snap outta it, be back to readin’ you Evelyn Miller in no time. You’ll see “ maybe the last part wasn’t entirely true. But the first part was. And you seemed to bask in his compliments. He wondered when the last time Dutch had said something nice to you had actually been. 

“ Thank you “ you looked as though you might cry again. And he really hoped you wouldn’t. He didn’t like to see you cry. And he really wouldn’t know what to say to you then. Once again you turned your attention back to the water and gave a small sigh “ maybe I chose the wrong outlaw “ you said with a small laugh “ always have thought you were quite handsome “ 

He nearly choked on his own saliva, clearing his throat in hopes to pass it out smoothly. He didn’t know if it had worked. 

“ Really? “ 

“ Hmm “ you mused, tilting your head inquisitively to the side “ but you were oh so hung up on that Mary girl when I found Dutch”

“ Yeah well. Mary she’s- that’s all done with now “ maybe Mary was the reason he seemed to sympathise with you so. Because he too had had a broken heart. Though he was sure his was not as brutal as yours. 

“ Guess we both have bad taste don’t we Mr Morgan “ he chuckled and nodded. 

“ That we do miss. That we do “ he placed a gentle hand to your shoulder and squeezed in some form of comfort “ don’t worry bout Dutch though. Really. He’ll come to his senses and if…if he don’t then. Any man would be lucky to have ya “ you sniffled and he figured you’d started crying again “ I didn’t mean to upset- “

“ No. No I’m fine. It’s just…you mean it all don’t you? All these kind words? “ he shrugged and then nodded. 

“ Sure I do. You’re a beautiful woman. Inside an out “ something seemed to flash across your face, a million and one things whirring away behind your eyes. He’d never been that good at reading people, never one for knowing what people were thinking. And the look on your face was the most confusing he’d ever seen. 

The next part happened far too quickly for him to process it. Maybe because he was tired, maybe because he truly hadn’t even slightly suspected you to do it. You flicked away the butt of your cigarette and leaned forward, one hand to his leg and the other to his neck. And kissed him. 

He was taken aback and you pulled away before he could make any attempt to figure out what you’d just done. 

“ Sorry “ you sighed in slight annoyance, seemingly at yourself, sitting back beside him again. Like it was no big deal. Just something that had happened and had no real consequence “ shit- sorry “ Arthur scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugged with a small laugh. Attempting to play it as cool as you clearly were. 

Maybe he’d finally cracked and entered some weird fatigue induced psychosis, hallucinations and hearing voices. And kissing Dutch’s woman. 

“ S’okay. No harm done “ he was bewildered. Trying to process the last 30 seconds and coming up completely blank. 

“ Just the way you talk about me I- Lord forgive me “ he was certain he must have looked half dense. Still completely confused at what on earth was happening with you. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit flustered at having a woman like you kiss him. Even if you were begging the Lord for forgiveness right after it “ no one’s spoken to me like that in a long time and…and I wish they had. I want to be told I’m beautiful again. I want to be kissed. I want I want…I want a lot of things “ 

Maybe Arthur was a stupid, idiotic fool. Maybe too many gunshot wounds and bumps to the head had finally caught up to him. Maybe he too wanted to act on his ever growing annoyance with how Dutch was behaving. But he found himself reaching out, fingers tucking under your chin to turn your face to look at him. Your eyes were so beautiful up close. Practically sparkling in the moonlight.

Oh he was such a fool. 

“ could’a jus’ asked “ a small smile tugged at your lips and you laughed a little. 

“ Yeah. Of course. Because you’d have said yes Arthur? “ he shrugged. He didn’t know if he would’ve actually. But now the thought was in his head “ alright “ you whispered and shuffled a little closer to him “ indulge me “ 

His thumb was absentmindedly brushing over your jaw, looking at you in the light of the moon and wondering how on earth Dutch wasn’t constantly begging for your attention. If he had a woman like you constantly hanging off his every word he wouldn’t know how to act. Would be like a mangy dog trailing around after you for food.  

“ I might’ve “ you gave a roll of your eyes but you were smiling still, a beautiful, tempting smile.

You were a temptress. A siren. Luring him in with your beauty to do something terrible. And you were vulnerable. Sad and seeking appreciation. And he was truly debating it. 

“ Well…“ you started quietly, looking up at him through your long lashes in a way that made his chest go tight “ there is… still time for you to say yes “ 

“ we ain’t gonna tell no one bout this y’hear? This it’s… it’s jus’ between me and you. Okay? “ your eyebrows furrowed for a second looking up at him intently, as if trying to figure out if he was joking or not. If he was serious. He wasn’t entirely sure himself, needed you to agree or disagree to put the thought to rest.  His thumb continued to brush along your jaw tenderly and your eyes fell closed for a moment. 

How long had it been since someone had touched you with such care? That something as simple as that seemed to mean so much to you. 

“ I understand “ you whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips again. He pulled you in close, barely an inch between your lips and then spoke again “ you’ll give me what I want? Don’t treat me like him “ 

“ Anythin’ ya want. You got it. I’ll give ya what you deserve “ you let a shuddering breath escape and gave a small nod before closing the gap between you both again. 

He hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, but he sure found his footing quickly. You kissed him like he was your source of air, climbing your way into his lap and slipping your hands into his hair. You tasted of cigarette smoke and something almost sweet. Whatever it was, it was an intoxicating mix. You were like a siren singing your call in his ear, drawing him in and taking him for your own. The weight of you in his lap was almost familiar, welcoming. Just… nice. 

He had almost forgotten just how fun it was to kiss a woman. How so many men seemed to shun it as boring, pointless- Dutch obviously included. But Arthur had always loved it. Had spent many a night as a youngster sneaking his way into Mary’s room just to kiss her. To spend hours kissing and talking and kissing some more. 

Kissing you was something else. Addictive. Intoxicating. 

Eventually he had to pull away, his lungs screaming at him for air. Your hands slipped out from his hair and down to grasp at the collar of his shirt, resting your forehead on his. 

“ Anything I want you say? “ you asked quietly, breathless. 

“ Anythin’ “ you smiled and lifted your head, a quiet determination settling over you. Your lipstick had smeared and he wondered how much of it was now on his own face. 

“ okay… undress me then “ you softly commanded, shifting slightly in his lap “ please. Dutch never- he makes me do it myself, barely even looks I- Please “ 

He almost laughed to himself about now he immediately thought getting you naked was entirely too risky. As if the entire situation alone wasn’t risky anyway. But he didn’t want to think too hard about that, instead simply channelled his recent annoyance towards Dutch into his actions. Tried to tell himself he was doing a good thing, taking care of you. 

You watched his face carefully as he gently untucked your shirt from where it was tucked into your skirt, some silky soft thing that probably cost more than everything he owned in his clothing trunk put together. He undid every pearl button slowly, eyes darting up to your face as he did. Your chest was heaving in long, heavy breaths. You were nervous. Or excited. He couldn’t tell which. 

You shivered lightly when he pushed it from your shoulders, now only the soft cotton of your chemise between his hands and your chest. Your nipples had hardened, from the slight night chill or lust he couldn’t say. But he found himself unable to resist the sight, leaning forward and capturing one between his lips through the cotton. You gasped softly, a sound so beautiful it made him groan. You sounded delicate. Innocent. You’d never made such sounds when he’d overheard you with Dutch. In fact a majority of the time you almost sounded in pain. 

But this sound wasn’t that. This sound was beautiful. And he wanted to hear more. One hand pushed at your back to bring you closer, the other palmed at your neglected breast in hopes you’d make the sound again. And you did. Gentle, soft gasps as his tongue dampened the material of your chemise, teeth tugging at you gently through the material. Your hand found his hair again, raking your fingers through it and arching your back into his touch. 

He couldn’t imagine why Dutch had never wanted to do such a thing. How could he not want to hear you make those pretty pretty sounds? How could he not want to feel you writhing in his lap and yearning to be touched. Maybe Dutch was more of a fool than he had originally thought. 

“ Need you to touch me- properly I- take this off “ your sentence was choppy, like you weren’t focussed enough to truly articulate the words you wanted to say. But he understood, pulling your chemise over your head and dropping it to land with your shirt. 

He took a moment just to look at you, not even entirely because he knew you’d want him to. Just because he wanted to. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t wondered what was hiding under your expensive clothes once or twice. How could he not when he had to try sleep through the sounds of you and Dutch of a night. 

“ God damn “ he said softly, hands soothing over your waist as you basked in his admiring stare, taking in the feeling of finally being looked at. Properly. 

“ like what you see Mr Morgan “ you asked, voice sultry and low in a way that made his cock twitch in his pants. 

“ Dutch is a damn fool “ is all he could say, leaning forward to kiss you again, his hands moving to grab at your chest. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed and massaged your breasts with his large hands, seizing the opportunity to dip his tongue into the warmth of your mouth. Your fingers in his hair, twisting strands around your fingers and tugging lightly. He felt like he was on cloud nine. Certain he’d somehow taken a stumble through the veil and ended up at heaven's gates. 

He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but the way he was prepared to worship and praise you could truly be considered blasphemous. 

He couldn’t resist the temptation of getting his mouth on you again much longer, dragging his lips from yours and wrapping them around a pebbled nipple instead. You rolled your hips against him, those beautiful soft moans still falling past your lips. This was what you had wanted from him. To be worshipped. To be looked at as the beautiful temptress of a woman you were. And not merely glanced at and then used like some two dollar whore in a saloon. 

He wanted to nip at your skin, bite and soothe it with his tongue. But he knew he couldn’t. Couldn’t risk Dutch seeing it if he felt the need to stop ignoring you for a short while for his own needs. But oh how he wanted to. To mark up your smooth skin with reminders that you were desired. That you could look at as they faded and be reminded that you were wanted. 

“ I need more “ you whispered “ Arthur please. Give me more “ another roll of your hips followed by a small whimper told him enough. 

“ I know I got ya “ he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses up your sternum and your neck. Nose brushing at the underside of your jaw and working his way back to your lips again “ stand up. Lemme get you out of these damn clothes “ he caught the smile on your face as you stood up, he stayed seated and ran his hands over the fabric covering your hips. Something seemed to blaze in your eyes as you looked down on him. He realised it was most probably you that was usually being leered down on, but not now. 

Not with him. Not with Arthur. Arthur looked up at you like the goddess you were, looked up at you with what he knew was a silent pleading in his eyes. Dutch would never ask he knew it. Dutch took. Stole. Used. Arthur didn’t. Wouldn’t. 

“ I like how you look at me “ you said quietly, hand soothing over his hair “ you make me feel beautiful “

“ Cause y’are “ he murmured, hands reaching to the ties of your skirt. He wanted to see more. Wanted to see all of you. 

You helped him with the slightly tedious task of getting your skirts and undergarments off, but all so slowly. Taking his time. Making sure he appreciated every single layer of clothing you removed for him, right down to unlacing your boots and holding your leg gently to help you out of them. Until you stood there as naked as the day you were born, illuminated by the moonlight on the water. 

“ well ain’t you a sight “

Your skin was so smooth. Soft. Not a single scar that he could see. The skin of a woman who had never had to lift a finger. Had never known the hardships that he had. The only true blemish on your skin was the almost completely faded bruises on your hips. Fingertips. Dutch. 

He soothed his hands up your legs, pressing soft kisses to the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he went, and stopped as he reached them. 

“ He can be a little rough. It’s how he likes it “ you answered before he could even ask. Arthur too had been known to have his rougher moments. But he could never hurt you. Never mark you in anyway other than that of affection and care. 

“ I ain’t like that “ 

“ I know. That’s why I want you “ he pulled you back down into his lap, his large hands splaying over your hips as he took yet another moment just to look. To admire. To thank whatever stupid damn God may exist for placing such a heavenly body in his presence “ I feel a little like the odd one out here though “ you said with a small smile, tracing a finger down from the open top buttons of his shirt to his pants. 

He’d been far too occupied with you to even really notice the fact that he was ridiculously overdressed in comparison. 

“ Can’t have that now can we darlin’ “ your smile grew and you made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders with a gentle sigh. You ran your fingers through the hair on his chest, nails scratching lightly at his skin and peppering lipstick stained kisses as you went. Littering his collarbones, his sternum.

“ much better “ your hands kept roaming and your lips kept kissing. Hands seemingly wanting to touch him all, scratching lightly up his sides and over his waist, his stomach and his ribs. Slowly moving to slide over his shoulders and loop around his neck. You rolled your hips against him again and whined softly. He was so hard it was growing painful as he stayed restrained by his pants. But he wasn’t selfish. Not like Dutch. And he wasn’t about to seek out any form of pleasure himself until he had you seeing the stars you deserved. 

“ tell me what y’want “ he murmured, peppering soft kisses across your jaw. 

“ touch me “ you sighed blissfully “ please touch me “ 

His hand slipped down in between your bodies, brushing past the soft curls between your legs and couldn’t contain the groan of a sound that left him when he felt how warm and wet you were. 

“ Christ “ he muttered as your head dropped to his shoulder with a shuddering breath “ he ever touch you like this? “ he asked lowly, already knowing the answer. Why would he? He didn’t get anything out of it. 

But Arthur did. Oh Arthur did. 

“ no “ you whispered “ no never…please. More “ he tested the waters, pressing lightly against your clit and revelling in the squeak of a sound that it caused you to make. 

“ or like this? " You shook your head again, breathing shakily as he dragged his finger through the wetness and drew light circles around your entrance. 

“ Arthur “ you moaned his name in the most delicious way as he pushed his finger inside, burying it to the knuckle 

“ yeah and what about this darlin? “ he again knew the answer. Dutch didn’t care about your pleasure. Didn’t care about wasting time on something as simple as making you whimper and whine for more “ he touch you like this? “ 

“ no “ 

“ think ya can take one more for me? “ you nodded again and he withdrew his finger, gathering your slick on his other before pushing them both past the resistance of your entrance “ that’a girl “ he pumped his fingers in and out steadily, curling and probing at your velvety soft walls to test what you liked. 

“ This is so… oh god. This isn’t proper at all “ you laughed slightly, melting into a soft moan. Arthur chuckled, lifting your face up so you’d look at him. 

“ Ain’t proper at all? It’s damn right filthy darlin” your cheeks were aflame and you closed your eyes for a moment, grinding yourself against his hand “ look at ya. Drippin all over ma fingers like that. Ain’t proper. Not one bit “ you smiled, a cheeky, devious smile that made him lean forward and kiss you again. 

You were so wet it was obscene. He couldn’t tell where the sounds of you kissing stopped and the sopping sounds of his fingers began. You continued to grind down against his palm, practically riding his fingers, his whole hand wet and sticky with you. 

And he wanted to taste it. To taste you. To flood his mouth with the slick, liquid gold covering his fingers. It was an almost primal desire, like a desperation as strong as needing air. He needed to. He had to. 

“ Darlin’ “ he murmured, lifting your head from where it had fallen to his neck again “ gotta let me taste you. You gotta “ the look on your face only made him want it more. Your skin flushed and eyes blown out with nothing but pure lust and desire. He’d never needed anything more. Nothing else mattered, not the painful hardness in his pants, not the realisation that you were very much Dutch’s girl. He didn’t care about any of that. He just needed to be between your thighs. 

“ really? No one’s ever- oh god. Yes. Yes. Please Arthur “ he withdrew his fingers making you whimper and quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and lay it down on the ground. Then he kissed you again as he wrapped his arms around your waist, gently turning you to lay back on the shirt. It still couldn’t have been particularly comfortable. But you didn’t seem to mind, tugging at his hair and lifting your hips up against him as he hovered over you. 

He took his time moving down. Leaving a long and slow trail of hot, wet, kisses on your skin. You writhed underneath him, whining softly and twisting your hands in his shirt underneath you. He took extra time with your thighs. Kissing up from the inside of your knee and stopping before he could place his mouth where he really wanted to, then repeating with the other. 

“ Arthur “ you whined, still squirming around and desperate. 

“ I know. I got ya. Gonna make those pretty sounds for me again yeah? "You nodded, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him as his head sank lower, spreading your legs wider to give him full access to the centre of you “ that’s a good girl “ he spread you open with his fingers, in awe of the way you parted for him. Like petals on a flower, dripping with the morning dew. 

But you were far more delectable. A forbidden fruit begging to be tasted. 

And oh was it pretty. Even in the dark, in nothing but the light of the moon on the water, it was pretty. Begging to be tasted, touched. Admired. 

The sound you made as he dragged his tongue from your weeping hole to your clit was like music to his ears. He didn’t know how he managed to not come in his pants just at the sound of it. 

You still kept it quiet, but loud enough for him. 

His own, deep, guttural moan escaped from his chest as he licked again. Your taste flooding his mouth in a way so so much better than he could’ve imagined. 

He ate you like he was starved. Like a savage predator that hadn’t seen meat for days, like a man ready for the gallows enjoying his last meal. His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping your legs apart for him as you bucked and squirmed against his face. It was visceral. Carnal. You made him feel like his grip on his own composure and control was weaker than ever, that he was holding on to it with nothing but his fingertips. 

“ Arthur “ he dipped his tongue into the welcoming warmth of your cunt, his eyes falling closed for a moment as he felt you clench around him, desperate for more. Desperate for him. And he would give you more, would give you anything you asked of him. But not until he made you come first. 

He let go of one of your legs and brought his fingers back to their previous position, wanting to feel you again. To be inside of you, as close as he could get. To make you see stars. 

The flat of his tongue found your clit again, certain he could feel you pulsing against him. Desperate and full of desire for him. He felt honoured, privileged. That you were so loyal to Dutch, glued to his side. Never even batting an eye at anyone else. And yet you had broken that for him. Had sought him out because you knew he would treat you well. 

Your back arched off the ground as he sunk them back into you, slipping in with a welcome ease. His thick fingers pumped into you at a steady pace, his tongue diverting all its attention to your clit. Lapping and sucking and letting you press his face harder against you as you tugged on his hair. 

“ don’t stop please dont- Arthur “ he had no intentions of stopping, none at all. In fact he simply honed in on his ministrations, working harder to push you closer and closer to the edge of the orgasm he knew you had been craving for weeks. 

“ Not gonna stop darlin. Ain’t stopping until you come for me. Taste so good, so good “ he murmured against you, curling his fingers and hitting a spot that made you gasp and your body shudder “ there we go, right there “ 

He flicked his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves, looking at you as best he could to gauge your reaction. You were pulling a little painfully at his hair, squirming and rolling your hips against his face. He let you do it. Let you be the one using a man for your pleasure, rather than being the one used for once. 

Your sounds were sinful. Melodic. He took it all in. Basked in the noises you made for him, the delicious taste of you on his tongue, drunk on you. On your taste. Your smell. 

“ Arthur- Arthur please I- “ you babbled, a slightly smug smile working its way onto his face as he watched your prim and proper facade melt away “ don’t stop “ 

He hummed an assurance that he wouldn’t, your hips bucking against his face as he did. You were so unbelievably wet, dripping out around his fingers and soaking the hair of his beard. He would never have thought it of you. The way you held yourself around camp, so poised and prim. The accent when you spoke that made everyone else around you sound so common. And yet there you were. On your back in the woods, chasing an orgasm being offered to you by an outlaw. Repeating his name like a mantra. 

And not even that of the outlaw you were in love with.

“ Arthur- “

Only seconds later it happened. You held a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit you, muffling your choked moans, back arching off the ground and walls clamping down on his fingers as he worked you through it. Tongue still working diligently at your clit until you pushed your hand at his head, squirming away a little. 

He almost didn’t want to stop. Could’ve happily stayed there a while longer, but moved back, an obscene wet sound in the late night silence as he withdrew his fingers. 

He took his fingers to his mouth, sucking the remnants of your climax onto his tongue. Unable to control himself. You watched him do it, mouth slightly agape and eyes half open with some desperate undeniable look of utter desire. He could almost see the way it made you feel, could see you unable to contain the overwhelming feeling of realising you were desired. Wanted. 

“ God. You are unbelievable “ you whispered, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and grabbing at his arm. Your fingers looped around his wrist and tugged his hand towards your own mouth. He shook his head with a chuckle, slightly in awe as you took those same two fingers between your red lips. 

Your tongue swirled between his digits, plush lips wrapping around them and sucking. Your eyes locked on his as you did. It made his cock ache. He wanted your lips on him, wanted your tongue swirling around his length and milking him dry. He could imagine it if he thought hard enough. The way you hummed slightly in appreciation as you sucked his fingers clean, sent vibrations straight through his bones. Rattling him to the core. But he would never ask that of you. But the thought was one he would hold onto. It made him shift slightly. 

“ you ain’t so prim and proper lady “ he murmured as he withdrew his fingers, a string of saliva connecting his fingertips and your lips “ This ain’t very proper of you miss “ Arthur said with a small smile, teasing “ rollin’ around in the dirt with the likes of me “ 

“ Oh to hell with being proper if it means I get to feel like this “ you said with a small laugh and he kissed you again for what felt like the millionth time. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his lips, smell the heady delicious smell of you on his beard.

He would’ve been more than happy to leave it at that. No matter how badly he wanted to sheath himself inside you and stay there for eternity. His goal had been your pleasure and he had achieved it. 

But as he kissed you your hands began working at the buckle of his gun belt, opening it with a skilled ease that made him pull back. 

“ Darlin’ you ain’t gotta do that- “

“ shush “ you pushed at him lightly so you could sit up and went to work on the buttons on his pants next “ I want to. I- Arthur take them off “ he made far quicker work of his own clothes than he had of yours and you leant back on your elbows to watch him. 

You looked like a pinup girl. Like something he’d seen drawn come to life. Your eyes seemed hungry as you looked at him, dragging down his body and lingering on his rock hard cock. He was practically throbbing with want, the tip an angry shade of pink and leaking precum slightly embarrassingly “ come here. Please. Back down here “ 

He did as he was asked, crawling back over your body as you eyed him greedily. 

“ We really don’t…I mean, If y’don’t wanna- “ his words stuck in his throat as your fingers wrapped around the length of him with a small sigh. 

“ I want you to I just…can I ask one thing? “ he couldn’t get the word yes to escape his mouth, your fingers squeezing him softly in a way that made him see flashes of white in his vision. So he simply nodded “ don’t fuck me. Dutch fucks me, make love to me “ you seemed a little embarrassed at the request. But he didn’t think it was embarrassing. In fact he had had no plans to use you as brutally as Dutch. He was almost a little offended you thought he might. 

“ Told you, anythin’ you want. You got it “ you smiled softly and pressed another kiss to his lips before laying back down again. He positioned himself over you, caging your head in between his arms. And it truly was incredibly intimate. He wondered when the last time you had had such intimacy was. If you’d ever received such a thing from Dutch. 

He spat on his hand and grabbed a hold of his sensitive cock, stroking himself a couple of times to get himself slick. Not that he really needed to, you were already wetter than he’d ever known a woman to be. But the last thing he wanted was your discomfort. He lined himself up with you, eyes trained on your face as he dragged his weeping tip between your folds. You gasped as he caught your clit, still sensitive and alert from your first orgasm. 

“ Arthur please “ you whimpered rolling your hips up against him, so desperate to have him inside of you. 

“ So God damn wet for me “ he murmured “ such a good girl ain’t ya? “ you whined in answer, fingers wrapping around what you could of his bicep and digging your perfectly trimmed nails into his skin “ gonna make you feel so good I promise darlin’ jus’ like you deserve yeah? “ you whispered out a yes and brought your other hand to the back of his neck. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, still running his cock along the length of your slit. Teasing. 

“ Keep looking at me. Please look at me Arthur “ he continued to do as asked. Again. Though his eyes had barely strayed from your face anyway “ I need you so badly “ Eyes locked on yours, he finally pushed into you, he took it slow. Letting you take it inch by inch, watching the look of ecstasy wash over your face. Your eyes fell closed. 

He fought to retain his own composure, overwhelmed by the tight, wet, warmth of your walls enveloping him. He could feel every unique ridge and bump that made your cunt oh so perfect, feel every muscle stretch and contract as you adjusted to him. 

“ god- oh god “ 

“ shh shh easy there. I got ya “ he paused once he was seated inside of you, grabbing at your hip with one hand to angle your hips better. Allowing you to comfortably take all of him in. He waited, let you adjust to his size, not daring to move before he got the go ahead from you “ there you go, look at you, takin’ all of me like that. So good f’me “ you basked in his praise, a dopey kind of smile spreading across your face.

“ so much bigger than him “ you whispered with a small laugh and Arthur couldn’t help the smug smile on his face. Kissing you and touching you and making you come on his tongue had been one thing. But having you like this? Having his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, so unbelievably close together. And to then be told that? To know he was about to do you better than Dutch ever had. Ever could. It felt like the biggest fuck you to the man that had been not only mistreating him of late, but also the goddess of a woman beneath him “ I’m good. You can move. Please move “ 

He didn’t need telling twice. Pulling out almost completely and thrusting back in in one smooth motion. The pace he fell into was just as you’d asked. Loving. Tender. But hard and deep, making sure his hips were flush with yours with every stroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled his face back down to kiss him again. 

If anyone had spotted you they’d have easily mistaken you both for a lovesick couple having a private moment to yourselves. The entire thing intimate and passionate. No one would assume it was an affair in motion, hidden away in the woods by the shoreline in fear of your lover finding the pair of you there. 

But it was what you wanted. What you had needed. And he felt privileged to provide. 

He pulled back from your lips to watch you again, enthralled by the way your face relaxed and twisted in the pleasure he was providing you. You continued to spill those angelic sounds from your throat, growing breathier and higher pitch as he continued to drag his cock against the sopping, sensitive heat of your cunt. He had to focus hard not to finish in seconds. So much build up paired with being practically celibate for months was truly doing him no favours, but he focussed. He wasn’t letting this end until you came once more. You deserved it. 

“ Keep those pretty eyes on me “ he murmured as they fell closed again “ that’s it darlin’, look at me there ya go “ everytime he spoke the slightest word of praise you practically beamed, so desperate to hear it. To be told you were good. Beautiful. So different to Dutch constantly yelling at you about how annoying you were, how much your mere presence bothered him these days. So he kept it up. 

“ Doin’ so well for me. This pussy it’s perfect, ain’t that right? C’mon tell me “ he urged, still fighting off his ever looming orgasm. The sounds alone was enough to make him want to burst. Sweat slicked skin on skin, the wet sounds of your cunt dripping around the swollen intrusion of him. And those sweet sweet moans of yours. 

“ yes “ you whimpered “ it’s perfect “ 

“ That’s a good girl “ he increased his pace ever so slightly and your hands slipped from his arms to his back, dragging your nails down him to try to pull him impossibly closer to you. 

He moved a hand down between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, grunting and choking back his own moans as you squeezed him. Like your body never wanted him to leave, gripping his cock with your cunt and making it ever more harder to hold back. He couldn’t help but have a look, glancing down to see the way you stretched around him, mesmerised at the way you took him in so deep. 

“ tell me I- oh. Tell me I’m beautiful “ you whimpered, sounding almost like you might cry. From pleasure, from upset. He didn’t know. But he continued to do as asked. 

“ you’re beautiful “ he murmured picking up his pace a little more, his sweat slick skin slapping against yours. He was desperate to see you come again. Wanted to see your face up close this time, watch your eyes roll back and your kiss swollen lips part in ecstasy “ so beautiful darlin. Doin’ so well f’me, takin’ me so well “ 

“ don’t stop, don't stop “ he dropped his head to your neck whispering every word of praise he could think of into your ear, your body arching up against his and whimpering and whining with every word. 

“ ain’t ever looked prettier than this “ he whispered, his own voice becoming breathless with the effort “ shit- look at ya, takin’ my cock so well. So pretty darlin’ “ 

Your second orgasm seemed to shock you as much as him, clawing at his skin to hold him close as your body trembled beneath him, biting at his shoulder to muffle your moans. 

He didn’t mean to finish inside of you, had fully intended to pull out. But the way your cunt had squeezed him, the sounds you had made as he pushed you over the edge for the second time.

He muffled his own groan of pleasure in your neck, fingers digging into the dry earth beneath you, spilling load after load whilst fully sheathed inside of you. His entire body tensed, a pleasure he hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time. His heart was hammering in his chest, blood rushing loudly in his ears as it seemed to drag on forever. 

And then he came to his senses. 

“ m’sorry. Shit. Sorry “ he panted as he tried to compose himself and pushed himself up onto his hands to pull out. But you yanked him back down, arms wrapping around his back again and legs tightening around his waist. 

“ no. Please. Stay. Stay right there. Just a moment would you “ he had come to realise in the past.. how long had you two even been out there? However long it was, he’d come to realise he was terrible at saying no to you. Could never possibly even dream to deny you of anything you wanted from him. And so he slumped back down onto his forearms, dropping his head against your shoulder for a moment. Your chest heaved beneath him and you caught your breath, fingers tracing gentle strokes along his spine. He felt he could stay there for hours. 

“ You doin’ okay? “ he asked, pressing a light kiss to your jaw when he had composed himself a little more. 

“ marvellous Mr Morgan “ you whispered with a small smile “ truly. Marvellous “ he couldn’t help but kiss you again, the long lingering kind meant for two lovers. 

After a few minutes you both finally moved, re dressing in silence and then sitting back in your original position against the tree. He handed you a cigarette, lighting it and placing it between your lips. 

He wondered what he looked like. Wondered what evidence you had left on him. Had he sweated off the lipstick prints on his chest or were they still there? He knew you had scratched his back up good and proper and would have that reminder there for a few days at least. 

“ Thank you. Mr Morgan '' you said quietly after a few silent moments of smoking, blowing out a long stream of smoke “ I mean it I- i'm not sure what I’m supposed to say “ 

“ Don’t say anythin’ “ he said with a small wave of his hand, appearing as blaise as he possibly could but in reality knowing he wasn’t about to forget that night anytime soon “ its fine. Really. Anytime y’need me, for anythin’, you know where I’ll be “ you smiled and he watched your body relax a little more. 

“ you know, i might just take you up on that “ 

He sincerely hoped you would. 

[incognit0slut]

On camera

PART 4 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Roommate!Spencer x Camgirl!Reader Spencer requests to take on a more involved role in one of your live streams.

content: (18+) 4k, exhibitionism/voyeur, reader wears lingerie, unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, overstimulation (surprisingly it’s him for once), and a hint of cockwarming at the end a/n: this is the second part to a special show although you don't necessarily have to read it to understand what’s happening. this took a while because… there was a little pressure? i didn’t expect people to wait on this i hope it lives up to the expectations, let me know what you think my cuties<3

You nudged your foot against his. “We don’t have to do this, you know. I don’t mind.”

“I’m fine."

"Are you sure? You've been quiet ever since you sat down."

He felt the words knot up in his throat. The quiet wasn’t hesitation, it was disbelief. The kind that lingered in the gap between what he imagined and what was happening. The lack of conviction that defied logic, even when he was the one who initiated to exist beyond just a pair of hands at the edges of the frame.

"Spence?”

He glanced at you. Deep pools of brown drowning in lust swept over the piece of lingerie you decided to put on tonight. Even without much fashion sense, Spencer could appreciate the soft frills of purple lace clinging to your figure. The garter belt wrapped snugly around your waist, leading down to thin straps that framed your smooth thighs, and every logical thought he tried to root out slipped away the longer he looked at you.

Wait. Purple?

Purple.

Although Spencer was sure it probably had a fancier, specific name that bordered on… lilac? Lavender? Or something else elusive he couldn’t quite pin down. To him it was just purple. He might not have the vocabulary to describe the exact shade, but he knew the way it looked on you was nothing short of captivating.

“You’re wearing purple.”

The frown creased between your brows as you tried to make sense of his sudden observation.

“I am.” Your lips formed a slight pout. “And you still haven’t answered my question.“

And he still couldn’t bring himself to answer.

“I thought you were supposed to be Princess Pink?”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them. It was true. Pink was your color. The soft, playful blush had always been part of your alter ego. You shifted on your feet, glancing down at the purple lace hugging your hips before meeting his eyes again. A small, hesitant smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and for a moment, you looked almost… shy.

“Well, yeah,” you admitted, your voice so soft it dipped into a tone he wasn’t used to hearing from you. Your fingers traced the edge of the fabric absently, and you glanced away again as if finding the floor more interesting.

“I thought maybe… it might help, you know? Calm your nerves or something.” The nervous laugh creeping out of you sounded strained. “I know you like purple… so I figured…”

The corner of his lips curled upwards. His smile reminded you of the times he caught you off guard with a look that was equally amused and deeply affectionate as if he couldn’t believe his luck.

“You wore it for me?”

You felt warmth rise to your neck but decided there was no point in hiding it. “I thought it might make this less scary for you.”

His smile faltered. “I’m not scared.”

“Spencer, you’re about to get naked.”

“You’ve seen me naked before.”

You couldn’t help but let out an amused laugh. He stated it so plainly with no hint of self-consciousness or hesitation. And technically, he was right. You had seen him completely, wholly bare more times than you could count by now ever since that first night you stripped away his innocence.

You still remembered how you had pulled him across the line from a curious roommate to someone who wanted to know every inch of your body. And that night turned into another, and then another, until what you were doing stopped being about one-off hookups and started blurring the boundaries you’d drawn between friendship and something more. Something you couldn't quite put your finger on that felt heavier than lust but not quite defined as love.

Spencer was a roommate, a friend, a lover, and eventually, an active participant in your live streams.

His hands were, at least.

You took a step forward, slipping between his legs where he sat comfortably at the edge of your bed. “I have seen you naked,” you agreed, “but they haven’t.”

His hands hovered at your waist, fingers twitching over your lace as if he wasn’t sure where to put them. He glanced up at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips before he finally admitted, “Okay… maybe I am a little nervous.”

“I know, but you don’t need to be. Think of it this way, the people who are going to see us will only be jealous of you.”

“Why would they be jealous of me?”

“Because you’re the one who gets to be with me.” You reached up to brush his hair back from his face, tucking those long, unruly strands behind his ear. “They’re in their rooms jerking off to a screen while you get to kiss me.”

A kiss fell on his lips.

“Touch me.”

Another peck.

“And fuck me.”

He chased your lips this time, his mouth puckering before he closed the gap. His words were muffled against you, “I am pretty lucky.”

“The luckiest,” you mumbled back. A soft smack of a kiss lingered in the air when you pulled away. “And you don’t have to worry, once we get started, you’ll be too distracted to remember what you were even nervous about.”

He hummed, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest as his grip on your waist tightened. “I think you might be right.”

“Good.” You moved to the side of the bed. “Now let me set up the camera.”

The tripod attached to the top of your computer screen wobbled slightly as you fiddled with it, adjusting the device until the lens angled down. You observed the setup, making sure it captured your body and the way Spencer’s hand rested on your waist without revealing either of your faces.

Perfect.

“You ready?”

Surprisingly, he was.

With a slight nod from him, you turned on the live stream.

Princess_Pink is online.

Spencer’s eyes widened as the chat erupted in a flurry of notifications, messages pouring in so rapidly they blurred into an endless stream of words.

“That’s a lot of people," he muttered under his breath.

“That’s the usual amount of people.”

“No, it’s not,” he countered. “I can’t even keep up with the chat.” Which was saying a lot. For someone who could read entire pages of text in mere seconds, this was overwhelming in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

“Don’t let them intimidate you.” You turned around and slipped between his legs again, feeling the way his knees instinctively parted to make space. “Just focus on me.”

Spencer barely managed to nod before your lips met his again, and with that, everything else seemed to dissolve. He could never quite get used to how effortlessly you could unravel him with just a kiss. His hands slid up the back of your thigh, the rough pads of his fingers brushing over your skin as they trembled slightly, grazing the delicate strap of your garter before settling firmly on your ass.

A surprised giggle bubbled out of you.

“Easy there,” you murmured, catching his bottom lip gently between your teeth before letting it go with a playful tug. “I have to greet them first.”

He reluctantly loosened his grip, letting his fingers linger on you for a final moment before slipping away to rest at his sides. His eyes remained fixed on you as you turned away, shifting your focus back to the screen and reaching over to the mic.

A faint hum filled the room as it came to life. Spencer could feel his breaths gradually falling into sync before your sweet voice cut through the silence like honey.

“Hi, boys,” you purred, letting the greeting roll off your tongue. “Did you miss me?"

Princess.no1.fan: Princess!!! JadenCums: we missed those tits Adam_4432: fucking hot as always Adam_4432: purple looks good on you Crazydick: who's the skinny loser at the back

You rolled your eyes as the comment popped up in the chat.

“This is getting old,” you said with a sigh, fingers hovering over the mouse. “You’re all obsessed with him.”

With a quick flick of your wrist, you blocked the troll and watched with satisfaction as his name disappeared from the list. Spencer tried to peek over your shoulder. “What did they say?”

“Nothing important,” you replied lightly, brushing it off as you turned back to the mic. "Didn’t I tell you guys to play nice?”

Princess.no1.fan: i always play nice with you JadenCums: they’re just jealous of your boy toy Adam_4432: ignore the haters, babe BigBoss88: let him stay in the background ThickNick: you're gorgeous princess

“Remember, if you can’t behave, you don’t get to stay. And I don’t think any of you want to miss out on what we've prepared."

That was his cue, right? He forced down the tightness in his throat, the sensation catching and shifting like a dry click as his pulse quickened. With a quiet exhale, he slipped off the edge of the bed and made his way behind you.

There was a moment of hesitation. But his doubt faded into the background as he focused on the curve of your waist beneath his fingers. He let his hands move slowly, tracing upward with a touch that lingered at the dip of your spine until his fingers brushed the delicate lace of your bra.

Wide hands covered the soft swell of your breasts.

Princess.no1.fan sent a $50 gift.

“See?” you breathed, pressing your back against him. “You play nice, you get to enjoy the show.”

He couldn’t help but squeeze your flesh, fingers sinking in and then pulling back, the skin dimpling under the pressure before slowly springing back. His veins looked prominent, winding up his forearm like delicate, raised lines that caught the light on camera every time he moved over the fabric of your bra.

And the lace offered the thinnest barrier. He could feel the way your nipple firmed underneath his touch, straining subtly as if it, too, was reaching out for more. He traced small, lazy circles around it, and when you arched into him, he had to bite back a smile. He pressed a kiss on your shoulder instead.

“You’re so good at this,” you muttered, letting your hand drift up to the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair.

He let out a quiet hum of acknowledgment, his fingers hooking under the edge of your bra’s cup before pulling it down. Your breasts bounced slightly, settling naturally in his palm as the lace slipped away.

“I’ve had a lot of practice.”

A soft moan escaped you as he began to explore, and Spencer couldn’t help the surge of satisfaction that followed. He was rougher than he intended to be at times, testing the line between what made you shiver and what made you push back for more. It was the way he rolled both of your nipples between his fingers, alternating between gentle pinches and firmer twists, that finally drew the most telling reaction—a subtle, instinctive rub of your ass against him.

He took it as a sign to touch you further, one hand drifting lower while the other stayed firmly in place. Goosebumps prickled over your skin as he slid down your stomach until he reached the edge of your panties. His fingers skimmed along the waistband, and you could feel his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as he brushed his knuckles underneath the delicate material, hesitating.

Adam_4432 sent you a $100 gift.

That was enough to break through his hesitation. Without a word, he slipped his fingers beneath the lace.

The heat between your thighs greeted him, and there was no mistaking what that meant. You were wet, so wet that his fingers glided over your folds like silk. He couldn’t help but feel a flicker of smugness as each subtle shift seemed to draw a new sound from your lips.

He let his fingers slide lower, searching, and when he finally found your clit, brushing his fingertips lightly over it, you jerked in his arms. The tiny, sensitive nub was swollen and begging for attention as it pulsed under his touch like a racing heartbeat. He gave gentle rubs. Slow circles. Steady pressure. The more he explored, the more your arousal smeared against his fingertips.

“Oh—you’re gonna make me cum so fast,” you gasped. You threw your head back against his shoulder, letting out a whine you knew would drive your viewers wild. “What do you think, boys? Should he make me cum now?”

The chat lit up instantly, flooded with messages begging you to let go, but between the rapid scroll of usernames and flashing emojis, one message caught your eye.

Looking4Sluts: no Looking4Sluts: cum on his cock Looking4Sluts sent you a $200 gift.

The notification flashed across the screen, and you felt a surge of adrenaline, a wicked smile playing on your lips. “Do you see that, baby?”

He nodded against your neck.

“They want more of you,” you purred, letting your hips roll back against him, pressing yourself closer to his obvious erection. “They want to see just how good you make me feel.”

Your words went straight to his cock. His touch suddenly changed as he began to move faster against your clit, and a choked gasp spilled from your lips. But just as the pressure started to build rapidly, you quickly grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand from your panties.

“No, not yet,” you stopped him, turning your head to catch his ear, your lips brushing against the shell. “Wanna cum on your cock.”

He watched as you reached down and slowly hooked your fingers into the sides of your panties, sliding them down your legs. A thin string of your arousal followed as you lowered the fabric, clinging to the lace before it finally broke and left a glistening trail against your thigh.

His balls tightened painfully.

Princess.no1.fan: Holy shit, that’s so fucking hot JadenCums: fisting my cock so hard Fatcock_777: wreck that damn pussy PussyLover69: i bet she’s fucking tight Looking4Sluts: jesus christ, she’s dripping

Spencer’s mind emptied the moment you leaned forward, planting your palms firmly on the desk for balance. The way your body arched made his pulse stutter, a surge of heat rushing through him so quickly it almost left him lightheaded.

“Like… this? Standing?”

You glanced back at him over your shoulder. “Exactly like this.”

He could barely think straight. His hands moved on their own, one sliding over your hips, gripping you firmly, while the other fumbled with his waistband, desperately tugging his pants down. The fabric slid down over his thighs, and he bit back a groan as his cock sprang free, hard and aching, pressing against the bare skin of your ass.

He could feel the heat of you against him, and it took every ounce of self-control to keep himself from sinking into you all at once. He pressed in closer, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse echoing in the ache between you both as the tip of his cock settled right where your folds parted. He rocked his hips in shallow motions.

“Baby…” You tilted your hips just enough to align with him, “no teasing."

But hearing those words only made him want to draw it out even more. He let his bulging head nudge at your hole, barely dipping in before pulling back, feeling the way you instinctively pressed against him.

"Spe—" you faltered, then groaned. "Stop it."

He couldn’t help but smile as his fingers found the straps of your garter belt. He tugged on one gently, watching the elastic snap back against your skin. "But you look so pretty."

"I'll look prettier with your cock inside me."

That did it. With one last shaky exhale, Spencer gripped your hips firmly and began to sink himself into you, feeling the tight, warm stretch of your cunt.

“Oh my god,” you gasped. He felt a slight resistance as your body adjusted to him. He carefully gave a few gentle thrusts, easing in and out just enough for you to relax.

Looking4Sluts: fuck yes JadenCums: she's so fucking tight PeachyKeen420: look at him stretching her PussyFiend69: just watching this is gonna make me cum HotForTits: Fuck her harder dude she wants it

His eyes flickered to that last comment, and something inside him shifted, like a switch flipping. Without another thought, without any lingering trace of hesitation, he tightened his grip on your hips and pushed in all at once.

Your moan tore through the air. So. Fucking. Loud.

HotForTits sent you a $300 gift

The notification flashed across the screen, but Spencer barely registered it, his control was slipping further away as his hips moved on their own. He started to grind into you, eyes traveling to your connected bodies. You were practically swallowing his cock, clenching so tightly around him that he felt like you were pulling him deeper, refusing to let him go.

In a way, you did beg for it. Each time you met his thrusts with an eager roll of your hips, the sound of skin slapping together echoed around you. He would have thought he’d be shy doing this in front of so many watchful eyes, but the way you moved against him made it impossible to care.

It only made him bolder. He let his hand slide up your back, fingers fumbling slightly with the clasp of your bra before he unhooked it. The straps slipped down your shoulders, sliding down your arms, and then you were completely, utterly naked, except for the garter hugging your thighs.

You were so pretty like this, so incredibly beautiful it made his pulse stutter in his veins. You were so pretty that it was almost disorienting, as if looking at you too long might make him forget where he was. And in his mind, all the lofty notions of beauty and art seemed to fall flat compared to seeing you like this. He needed to see all of you.

A startled whimper left your lips when he suddenly pulled out.

“Can you angle the camera down?"

There was a knowing look in your eyes. Your fingers moved to adjust the tripod, and he wasted no time stripping himself. By the time you were done angling the camera, he was already sitting on the edge of your bed, his cock throbbing against his stomach.

He looked painfully hard. Hard enough that every heartbeat seemed to pulse visibly along his length. You crawled onto his lap.

“Hi.”

His palm found the curve of your hip. "Hi."

“Are you okay?”

He nodded, his fingers tightening around the base of his cock as he urged you to lift your hips. “I think I’m starting to understand why you do this.”

“Yeah?”

"Mhm.” He nudged his tip between your folds. “It’s kind of exciting.”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, fingers curling into his shoulder for balance as you began to lower yourself. “See? Nothing to be nervous about.”

A deep groan escaped his lips the moment your walls tightened around him. “You make this seem easy.”

“Maybe you’re just a natural.”

He gave a low chuckle, but it caught in his throat when he felt the full length of his cock buried inside you. “I… ah… I think you’re the one making me look good.”

“Shut up,” you replied with a grin, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “You don’t need any help looking good right now, trust me.”

Spencer wasn’t entirely sure what to think about that. He’d never seen himself like this, not in the way you did. But when he glanced over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of the screen and the way your hips rolled over him, he started to believe it.

He looked like… well, like the porn he’d watched late at night in his room before you came along. But better. The kind that didn’t seem real, the kind that made him question if anyone actually had sex like that. He knew the vast majority of what’s portrayed in porn is exaggerated with only a small percentage even close to reality. Except this was real. It was really him, and you made it look like he knew what he was doing.

And sure, maybe he did in some way, albeit you being his only real experience. But that was the thing—he knew what made you tick. He could read the way your body reacted, knew the subtle cues that signaled when a whisper of his fingers could coax out a whimper or when the right shift of his hips would leave you trembling. And more than anything else, he knew how much you liked being watched.

He knew just how much it turned you on.

With that thought in mind, Spencer grabbed the firm swell of your ass and spread you open.

JadenCums: fuck yes FatCock69: she’s so wet BigdickXX: damn, I wish I could feel that pussy ILovePinkPrincess: spread her wider TommyGoode sent you a $200 giftDaddyDom92 sent you a $300 gift.

Your body squirmed beneath his hands.

“Babe… what are you doing?”

He ran his tongue over his lips. “Giving them what they want.”

Then he spread your flesh even further, fingers digging into your supple skin as he held you open. The sight was undeniably lewd, and yet he couldn’t deny the surge of pride swelling in his chest as he held you like this, putting you on full display. But more than that, it was what you wanted. The tension coiled in his muscles as he thrust his hips up, watching the movement play out in the reflection over his shoulder.

He could see everything. The slow drag of his cock, the way it stretched you open with each push, leaving no inch of you untouched. Every time he thrust up into you, his length came back slick and shining, catching the light for a split second before disappearing inside you again.

There was something hypnotic in the rhythm, in the way your body seemed to swallow him whole. And somewhere in that steady push and pull, you visibly clenched around him, a vice-like grip that sent a shudder through his body and pulled a deep, harsh groan from his throat.

His hands tightened their grip on you, and before he could think twice, his hips began moving faster. You squealed, an actual high-pitched sound that he hadn’t expected. It was almost cute in a way—if cute was even the right word for what was happening. But there was nothing cute about the way his body reacted to that sound.

His hips bucked upward, again and again by an instinct he couldn’t control. He was so lost in the sensation of your warm, slick pussy that he barely registered the rising tension in his own body. It wasn’t until his muscles locked up, his hips jerking with one final, forceful snap, that it all crashed over him.

Oh shit.

A sudden rush of heat coursed through him as he spilled inside you, the realization hitting him a second too late. His breath came in shallow gasps, a deep groan escaping his throat as pleasure overwhelmed him, leaving him stunned and gasping for air.

You paused, feeling the unmistakable warmth of his release slowly seep inside you. “Baby?”

His eyes widened. “I’m sorry,” he blurted, sliding his hands up your waist. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—that was—”

Fast didn’t even come close to describing what happened.

You cut him off with a soft laugh, shaking your head as your fingers gently cupped his jaw. “Oh, honey,” you cooed. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

His eyes flickered to the camera behind you. “I ruined everything, didn’t I?”

You followed his gaze, then turned back to him with a smile. “Of course not,” you said softly, threading your fingers through his hair. “You kind of made everything better, actually.”

His brows knitted together. “I did?”

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“Do you know…”

You started to roll your hips again.

“How hot it is…”

A soft squelch filled the air.

“To fuck with your cum inside me?”

He could barely comprehend the words that had just left your mouth, let alone the feeling of you moving against him. His eyelids struggled to stay open, the question catching in his throat before it spilled out in a breathy whisper. “Hot?”

“Insanely hot.”

Spencer couldn’t describe what happened after that. Obscene didn’t even begin to cover it. Surreal, maybe? But even that word felt lacking. It was all too real. You were rocking your hips on his lap, and the wet, sticky sounds filling the room were undeniably his own doing.

He held your hips tighter, half in an effort to steady himself, half because he didn’t know what else to do. The words were gone. Logic was gone. The only thing that existed was you, grinding against him with the same intensity that had already undone him once.

And he knew he was going to lose it again.

You leaned forward, your forehead pressing gently against his. “Spence, baby,” you whispered, making sure your voice was soft, just loud enough that only he could hear. “Can you fuck me again?”

He couldn’t say no even if he tried. His hands slipped beneath your thighs, fingers curling with just enough force to lift you, tilting your hips for better leverage. The shift pulled a startled gasp from you and you clung to him for balance, but he didn’t give you a moment to catch your breath. His hips met yours in a swift, demanding snap.

The sound of your body meeting was unmistakable, a rhythmic slap that would’ve made him blush if he were in any state to think clearly. But right now, all he could focus on was the mess he’d made of you, the way his cum seeped out, sliding down his cock in slow drips. Whenever he thrust into you, there seemed to be more spilling out, leaving thick, creamy streaks painted across your inner thighs.

Spencer had messy sex before (all with you, of course) but this was on a whole different level. It was chaotic—unapologetically filthy. The wetness between you spread everywhere. He could feel it pooling against his thighs, trickling down your legs, and the damp sheets beneath you were clinging uncomfortably to his knees while the heady scent of sex hit his nostrils.

And your voice wasn’t helping his self-control. It was high-pitched with a tremor, somewhere between a moan and a desperate whine tumbling out in a jumble of words that barely made any sense. Your voice grew higher each minute, more frantic, until finally, he could make out a few clear words through the haze.

“Gonna c-cum,” you moaned, “I’m gonna cu—ah fuck yesyesyes—”

A final, helpless cry pushed him over the edge.

He came for the second time tonight. He tried to hold back, but the way you were clenching around him, your body pulsing through your sudden orgasm tore down what little control he had left. He groaned, burying his face in your neck as his release overtook him again, shocked that he still had anything left to give as he emptied inside you.

The intensity bordered on painful. He could feel his body pushing to its limits and every pulse of pleasure felt like it was wringing him dry. And it was no less intense for you. You jerked against him, body twitching, sweat beading on your skin. Your muscles tightened and relaxed with the rhythm of his racing heartbeat as the last spark of pleasure finally washed over you.

Neither of you moved for a while after that. The only sound in the room was your labored breathing, the heavy rise and fall of your chests pressed together.

You were the first to break the silence.

“Baby,” you hummed, a soft, breathless laugh escaping your lips, “I think that might’ve been the hottest stream we’ve ever done.”

It took a second for your words to sink in, and when they did, his eyes widened slightly. The camera was still on. The audience was still there. His nose pressed harder against your neck as he tried to hide in embarrassment.

“Really? You’re getting shy now?“

His soft groan vibrated against your skin. “I wasn’t exactly thinking about the camera,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your neck. “It left my mind the moment I… you know.”

You smiled, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Oh, I know. I could tell.”

You started to peel yourself off of him, only for his arms to tighten around your waist. You gave a playful tap on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“Holding you.”

“Why?”

“My brain needs a moment to process this.”

Your hand danced aimlessly across his back. “Still embarrassed?”

“Mortified,” he confirmed.

A giggle slipped out of you, and you wiggled your hips. “We still need to clean up. I don’t think you want to stay like this forever.”

He let out a sound of protest but didn’t loosen his grip. “Just a few more minutes.”

Smiling at his stubbornness, you slid your fingers into his hair, letting your nails scrape lightly against his scalp. "Spencer," you said gently, making sure the mic didn't pick up your voice. “I need to turn off the cam.”

"They wouldn't mind watching us a little longer."

You sighed, feeling the undeniable stickiness between your thighs. It wasn’t the most comfortable feeling, and the warmth was quickly turning into a mess that would need attention sooner rather than later. But there was something so sweet about the way he wanted to hold you that it made it impossible to resist.

"Fine," you relented with a quiet laugh, "five more minutes."

[jupiterpilgrim]

Sex Cage: Fame, Fun and Fire

Kwon Eunbi x Yujin x Male Reader

word count: 8.5K

part 1//part 2

You and Eunbi are seated side by side at the mall food court, each of you carrying a look of shared anxiety. Around you, the crowd is a tangled mess of shopping bags, kids running around, and people who’ve clearly never heard of headphones. But the noise outside is nothing compared to the storm within.

"So... are you nervous?" Eunbi nudges you, a teasing smile on her lips, trying to ease both your tension and her own.

"Just a little," you admit.

"Look, babe, you need to get used to this stuff. She’s just a girl."

"Not just any girl," you retort, frowning. "It's Yujin."

Eunbi shrugs, as casual as if meeting one of the biggest content creators of the moment were just another ordinary day. "So, she’s famous—big deal. She still puts on her pants one leg at a time, just like us." She looks at you, something warm and affectionate in her eyes. "Seriously, love, when she gets here, you’ll see. It'll be like talking to anyone else."

As if the universe had a particularly cynical sense of humor, a voice chimes in from behind you.

"Found you!"

You both turn your heads so fast you might win an Olympic medal in synchronized movements. And there she is—Yujin, in person, flesh and blood. Taller than you imagined, with an aura that seems to light up the entire food court. She’s dressed casually, a loose black knit sweater with a basic white tank barely visible underneath, and frayed denim shorts that add a laid-back vibe, matched with a studded belt. Sunglasses complete the look.

The brightness of her smile shatters any notion of “just a girl” into tiny, irrelevant pieces.

“Hi... hi!” Eunbi finally stands, throwing herself into a hug with Yujin, desperately trying to keep her composure. You’re still stuck on the bench, trying to convince yourself she didn’t just step out of a fashion editorial.

Yujin steps back from Eunbi and looks at you, a smile that, if you weren’t petrified, you’d swear had a hint of complicity. "And you, aren’t you coming?" She opens her arms, waiting.

You stand, trying not to look like a complete idiot, and she pulls you into a casual hug that, in your head, lasts an eternity. “I was super excited to meet you both,” she says, pulling away and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Eunbi, trying her hardest to act natural, replies, “We were too. You’re even prettier in person, honestly.”

Yujin lets out a lighthearted laugh. “Oh, thanks, but look who’s talking. You’re so much more stunning in real life, too.”

Eunbi glances away, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “Well, I... thank you,” she stammers, unable to hold back a smile.

Yujin removes her sunglasses and glances at you, a curious expression on her face. “And you, honey, are cute too,” she says with a hint of amusement, “but you look a bit tense. Nervous?”

"I... it’s just... it’s my first time doing this," you admit, trying to play it cool. You laugh, but it’s that kind of laugh that gives away every attempt at looking natural.

"Relax. Soon enough, we’ll all be close. Want a decent coffee? I think we have a long day ahead."

Yujin leads the way to a quieter café, and you and Eunbi exchange a look—a mix of awe and satisfaction—as you follow her.

After all, it’s just another day.

Except it's not.

—

The café is an unlikely refuge in the middle of the mall chaos. Unlike the food court, the lighting here is softer, as if the designers decided people spend more if they feel mysteriously cozy. Yujin, of course, looks perfectly at ease.

You place your orders at the counter—a cappuccino for her, an extravagant frappuccino for Eunbi, and a black coffee for you, because someone here had to add a touch of seriousness. With drinks in hand, the three of you find a table by the window, where you can watch the hurried tide of shoppers on the other side of the glass, as if observing a documentary on human behavior in its natural habitat.

Once you’re settled, Yujin turns to you both, firing off, “I’ll admit, I didn’t think you’d accept the offer. It took you a while to reply.”

You and Eunbi share one of those telepathic glances that only develop after years together. “We were... going through some stuff at the time,” Eunbi answers, a bit awkwardly, as if trying to give a short answer to a question that deserves a thesis.

“Ah, I get it,” Yujin says, with a smile that makes it clear she really does. “Relationships, huh? They always have their ups and downs.”

For a brief second, you and Eunbi glance at each other again, like two students caught off guard by a question in the middle of class. Explaining that, back in the anonymous video days, you were just friends feels like an odyssey no one wants to start. So you simply say nothing. Silence, after all, is one of the most efficient forms of communication.

Unfazed, Yujin continues, as if she has the supernatural gift of skipping over the complicated parts. “So how’s it been, now that you’re not anonymous anymore?”

“Funny,” Eunbi begins. “The first few weeks were... strange. I was afraid to go out, like, what if someone recognized me? But then I realized the world out there is a lot bigger than the view count on my screen.”

“Oh, the ego hates this part,” Yujin comments, with a smile you’d classify as experienced. “But don’t worry. The worst that can happen is someone asking for a photo.”

She tilts her head, her eyes roaming over the two of you. “And your families? How did they react?”

You clear your throat, searching for the words. “Well, only my family knows. Eunbi’s parents... haven’t found out yet, apparently. In fact, not even our friends found out. You know, it's not something you reveal with much enthusiasm. But eventually they'll get to the truth."

“Really? Well, I hope everything goes well when they find out,” Yujin says.

“My family didn’t take it too well at first, and maybe the fact that I revealed this to them when I was drunk contributed to that,” you admit, exhaling like you’re shedding a weight. “We ended up taking a... break for a while, you know? But eventually, they called, and we were able to talk without drama. In the end, they came around.”

Yujin lets out a laugh, this time a bit more bitter. “Parents, huh? Mine didn’t accept it at all. But honestly? I was never a big fan of them anyway. These days, we kind of... don’t talk anymore.” She shrugs, as if it were a small thing and not a complete family break. “Sad, isn’t it? But that’s life.”

And then, right on cue, the drinks arrive. The waitress sets the cups down with clockwork precision, and Yujin holds her cappuccino as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to keep discussing family breakdowns while savoring milk foam.

You stare at the foam on your black coffee, maybe as a symbolic attempt to glimpse into the future. “And you... do you regret this choice?”

“Me?” Yujin raises an eyebrow and smiles. “Not at all. Today, I have my own life, I live super well, and freedom is priceless. By the way, what about you two? Any regrets?”

Eunbi shrugs, leaning over to grab her frappuccino. “Not yet,” she answers, looking at you for a moment as if seeking confirmation.

“Same here,” you add. “So far, nothing’s really gone wrong. I quit my old job and now I have more free time to spend with my girlfriend, helping her with her business. But I confess that sometimes I find myself having some doubts about the future."

“Don’t overthink it. As long as you two have each other, you’ll get through any challenge.” She says it like someone who’s navigated a fair share of rough waters and lived to tell the tale.

You and Eunbi share another look, and this time the smile you exchange feels like a silent pact, an okay, we can do this.

Yujin continues with a casual prophecy. “Oh, and one more thing. This will also become your new normal. In five years, you might not even remember what the old life was like.”

Eunbi tilts her head, pretending innocence. “And is that a good thing?”

“Oh, it’s very good,” Yujin replies, with a smile half genuine, half enigmatic. She takes a sip of her cappuccino, seeming to savor every drop, as if drinking directly from a magic potion. “Freedom can be a little... lonely at times. But honestly? It’s the best thing there is.”

You and Eunbi absorb this in silence, but it’s not a silence that lasts long, as the café door almost trembles when a group of girls enter, spotting Yujin. In an instant, the carefully cultivated tranquility of the café goes right out the window.

“OH MY GOD, YUJIN!” one of them yells with the intensity of someone spotting Beyoncé. The entire café turns to look as you and Eunbi shrink in surprise. But Yujin only flashes that smile she’s probably practiced in the mirror just for moments like this.

She gives a small wave, like a queen in her royal chamber, and the girls rush over, each with eyes sparkling with admiration and a genuine urgency, as if they’re reporters interviewing a celebrity on the red carpet.

“I’m your biggest fan!” exclaims the first one, staring at Yujin like she’s the last source of water in a desert. “I watch all your streams on Twitch. I mean, EVERY one. Even that stream that crashed because of your cat. That part was iconic.”

Yujin laughs, nodding. “Ah, yes. He always thinks the keyboard is the best bed in the house.”

The second girl practically jumps with excitement. “You’re like my fashion muse! I copied that blue hair you had a few months ago, you know? But the blue washed out after like three washes. Any tricks?”

“Sure. First, get a good toner. Then say a couple of Hail Marys. Works every time.”

The third seems almost breathless with adrenaline, as if she’s been preparing her whole life for this moment. “Seriously, you’re everything to me! I even follow your playlist on Spotify. Like, I’m OBSESSED with your workout playlist.”

Yujin, now visibly flattered, raises an eyebrow. “Ah, the workout playlist… a classic.” She turns to you and Eunbi, as if wanting to share a private joke. “It has a certain vibe, you know? Who knew ‘Dancing Queen’ could be so motivating for leg presses?”

Then one of the girls pulls out her phone, eyes alight with hope. “Can we take a picture with you, Yujin? And maybe you could say ‘hi’ on Stories? Just to prove this surreal moment actually happened.”

Yujin nods like a patient teacher. “Of course, let’s do it! Who wants to be first?”

It’s chaos.

Each of them takes a selfie from a carefully studied angle, as if taking an X-ray, and Yujin smiles serenely in all of them, saintly calm. She says a quick “hi, everyone, I’m here at the café with these beauties!” on one girl’s Stories, while the girl herself looks ready to faint from sheer emotion.

Between selfies, one fan glances over at Eunbi, her eyes widening. “Wait… aren’t you Rubydden? Oh my God, I've seen some of your photos on Instagram! You’re so beautiful, seriously!”

Eunbi gives a bashful yet proud smile. “Oh, yeah, that’s me. And this is my boyfriend…”

“Is he also an influencer?”

“Well, in a way... yes,” Eunbi replies.

Another one elbows her friend, not-so-quietly whispering, “Hey guys, now there are three famous influencers here! This café’s getting a five-star Google upgrade today!”

Yujin, clearly amused, wraps up the photos and casually comments, “You girls are amazing. Really. But now let me drink my cappuccino before it turns into iced coffee.”

The girls laugh, enchanted by how Yujin effortlessly combines a hint of farewell without losing any charm. They gradually back away, waving and sending another wave of compliments, promises to keep following everything she does, and even a lone “I love you” from the back of the group.

Once they’re gone, Eunbi turns to Yujin, looking fascinated, almost incredulous. “Does… does this happen to you a lot?”

“Depends on the day,” Yujin replies, picking up her cup and taking a casual sip, as if fans were a weather phenomenon she’s learned to predict. “But lately, I’ve been seeing more girls following me. Ever since I started making content beyond, you know, just porn.”

Eunbi snaps her fingers, like she’s had an idea. “Hey, Yujin… do you think I should start streaming on Twitch too?”

Yujin looks at her over the rim of her cup, like she’s evaluating a new piece of furniture. “Should you? Eunbi, that’s not even a question. It’s practically your duty! And I say that with no pressure, of course.” She smiles, but it’s the kind of smile that makes it clear the decision is practically made.

“Besides, you already have everything. You’re charming, fun, and just mysterious enough to keep the audience hooked.”

Eunbi laughs, but you can see the idea starting to appeal to her. She turns to you. “Do you think I should try it?”

“Definitely,” you reply. “And if you need, I can handle all the tech stuff. I can even set up notifications that scream ‘let’s fucking go’ every time someone subscribes.”

Yujin laughs, nodding, and takes another sip of her coffee. “That’s it! People love that kind of silly stuff! Oh, and another thing, Eunbi: Twitch could be a gateway to other types of content. You can show you’re a whole person, you know? Talk about whatever you want. Books, music, I don’t know, the best kind of tea—anything that makes people see you’re more than a pretty face and a name. It’s marketing, it’s fun, and honestly, it’ll protect you a bit from objectification. They won’t just see ‘Eunbi, the hot girl from OnlyFans,’ but ‘Eunbi, the one who chats about everything for an hour and makes it interesting.’”

Eunbi blinks, surprised. “Does that actually work?”

“More than you think,” Yujin responds with a mysterious smile. “And, over time, you won’t even need to explain you’re more than what they see. They’ll already know.”

“So… that’s it,” Eunbi says, looking at you with an expression that’s part excitement, part slight fear. “Get ready, you’ll have a lot of work helping me set things up.”

Yujin laughs, shaking her head. “Oh, it’s going to be great, sweetheart. And we’ll definitely do some streams together. We’ll break the platform.”

You look at Yujin, a thought bubbling up in your mind. “So, Yujin,” you start, as if about to ask the secret of the universe, “since we’re talking about this spotlight thing… Who’s the most famous adult content creator you’ve ever met?”

Yujin doesn’t hesitate for a second. Her eyes light up, and her smile widens like someone about to recount a legend.

“Karina.”

The word comes out with an almost tangible reverence, and both you and Eunbi lean in slightly closer, as if pulled by a collective magnet of admiration.

“Karina?” Eunbi repeats, curiosity shimmering in every syllable.

Yujin nods, with that distant look of someone who’s seen the Mona Lisa or the Taj Mahal up close on a sunny afternoon. “Karina isn’t just famous. She’s, like... an entity. Tall, graceful, perfect hair and skin, a flawless body, and a sense of style that could make anyone feel like a shabby peasant just by existing in the same room.”

“Hmm, I see. So… she’s pretty?” you ask, choosing the simplest word so it’s not too obvious that you already know who she is.

Yujin laughs, shaking her head. “Pretty? Honey, pretty doesn’t even come close. She’s stunning. Impeccable. The kind of person you look at and think, ‘Will my mom forgive me if I drop everything to devote myself to this woman?’”

Eunbi lets out a small laugh, but it’s clear she’s just as fascinated. “And she’s actually nice to talk to and all?”

“Oh, absolutely. You’d expect someone like her to be arrogant, right? But Karina is sweet, kind. When she speaks, it feels like she’s dedicating all her attention to you. She makes you feel like the most interesting person in the world.” Yujin sighs, as if reliving a pleasant dream. “She’s polite with everyone, never makes anyone feel uncomfortable. It’s almost surreal.”

“Wow, she sounds like a myth.” Eunbi sighs.

“Almost, yeah,” Yujin admits, leaning back. “She’s a woman of class, you know? If I were to describe her... She’s like an old Hollywood movie star, but... updated for the internet age.”

Eunbi’s gaze slowly slides over to you, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “And you, babe, have you heard of this goddess?”

You clear your throat, trying to keep your composure, but your mind feels like it’s racing to avoid the tricky questions that are clearly coming. “Well... maybe I’ve heard of her... once or twice... around... on the internet.”

Eunbi raises an eyebrow, a smile beginning to form. “Once or twice, huh?”

Yujin doesn’t miss a beat, her gaze sparkling with mischief. “Oh, I’m sure he knows exactly who I’m talking about!”

“I really don’t know if I know her,” you reply, with the conviction of someone trying to dodge an unfair accusation.

Yujin laughs out loud, shaking her head. “Oh, come on. Everyone’s seen at least one of her videos. She’s practically a cultural landmark. Like... like watching The Godfather or something.”

“I’m not ‘everyone,’” you insist, trying to maintain some dignity.

But Eunbi and Yujin exchange glances and burst into a shared laugh, clearly amused at your expense. “Of course not,” Eunbi says, pretending an exaggerated innocence, while Yujin nods as if fully agreeing.

“Right,” Yujin says, with a wink. “You’re totally immune to that sort of thing, for sure.”

“Okay, okay, but does she only do videos or... anything else?” you ask, trying to keep your tone casual.

“Well,” Yujin begins, “She’s also an escort. And, well... they say her rates are higher than the national debt of a small country. But she’s worth every cent—at least, that’s what those who’ve paid say.”

Eunbi scrunches her nose, as if trying to imagine the price and eventually giving up on the math. “So, basically, she’s perfect. Like... the adult version of Barbie?”

“An adult Barbie mixed with the Mona Lisa and a dash of Cleopatra,” Yujin says, gesturing dramatically, as if her hands could illustrate such divinity. “But seriously, I loved chatting with her. Really. We met at a party in Dubai, it was an incredible night, I even got nervous when I saw her, but she was so sweet and patient with me that I almost felt like her close friend.”

Eunbi and you look at each other, sharing a mixture of disbelief and fascination.

“She sounds almost unreal,” you finally say, still trying to process the idea.

Yujin laughs, shaking her head. “She is. And the best part? She knows it. But unlike many, she doesn’t put on a show. She just... exists. And somehow, that’s more impressive than anything she could try to be.”

—

The apartment is bathed in the radiant light of early afternoon as you and Eunbi enter with Yujin, trying—unsuccessfully—to hide your nervousness under a casual façade. Yujin glances around, inspecting the space.

“Wow, what a cozy place,” she remarks. “Seems perfect for a young couple. But who knows, maybe you’ll, say, be able to expand things in the future, huh?”

Eunbi, smiling with a mixture of pride and discomfort, says, “Make yourself at home,” not quite sure what "at home" might mean for someone like Yujin.

“Oh, I will,” Yujin responds, her tone so suggestive that you and Eunbi exchange a shared, nervous glance, caught between laughter and cold sweats. Yujin then casts an investigative look around the room before dropping the question. “Can I see where you two film?”

“Of course!” Eunbi replies, excited. You both lead her down the hallway to Eunbi’s former room, still decorated with vibrant trinkets and stuffed animals. Eunbi explains with a shy smile, “Since we started dating, I moved into his room—it’s bigger. So this one became the studio.”

"You guys were living together before you were dating? That's wild!"

"We were actually roommates and best friends," Eunbi says.

"Oh, I get it! In that case, it's a really cute thing." Yujin examines the space with curiosity, nodding in approval. “Ah, the room I see in the videos,” she says, as if she’s stumbled upon the place where the Great Mystery unfolds. After a moment, she looks at Eunbi with a playful smile. “By the way, can I borrow one of your lingerie sets, princess?”

You blink, confused, and the question slips out before you can think: “Are… we filming now?”

Yujin raises an eyebrow and laughs, as if she’s dealing with a child asking why the sky is blue. “Yes, darling. I have a flight later for a podcast appearance,” she says, patient, as if this were a common part of anyone’s day.

You’re still processing the suddenness of it all when you manage to ask, “What podcast?”

“Sana’s podcast. You haven’t been on it yet, right?”

You and Eunbi look at each other, both trying to imagine the possibility, but Eunbi shakes her head, amused. “Not yet.”

“Oh, but I’ll make a recommendation,” Yujin replies with a wink, like a mischievous fairy godmother ready to pull a few invisible strings. “Sana is amazing. Hilarious, and she was one of the first to give us, adult creators, a place to speak, to give our opinions and combat insults. You guys should go. So many girls only got their break thanks to her support. She’s going to love you, I’m sure.”

Eunbi, now more excited than ever, responds, “Wow, it’d be amazing to do an episode with her.”

Yujin smiles like she’s just made a promise to fate itself. “I’ll make it happen,” she says, giving Eunbi a look. Then, with a casual gesture, she motions to you, as if giving a gentle hint.

“Now, sweetheart… could you give us a moment to get ready?” Yujin asks, more informing you than really asking, with a hint of gentle dismissal.

You feel your face warm, realizing this is your cue to step out. “Oh, sure. I… I’ll wait in the living room,” you reply, trying to seem more confident than you feel.

She closes the door with a cheerful “See you in a minute!” and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

—

Inside the bedroom-turned-improvised studio, Eunbi and Yujin glance at each other in the mirror, half-studying, half-laughing like two friends conspiring over some obscure secret—or in their case, a rather peculiar shoot. Eunbi gestures toward the closet with a kind of solemnity, inviting Yujin. “Go on, pick a lingerie set. There’s lots of colors. And styles,” she says, almost like she’s offering a valuable gem.

Yujin, without hesitation, slips off her bra and underwear, moving around the room with the confidence of someone, well, perfectly at ease with their own body. She picks up a blue lingerie set and holds it up, examining it with an almost scientific gaze. “Think it’ll look good?”

“It’ll look gorgeous,” Eunbi replies, already picking a pink set and undressing, letting her clothes drop casually to the floor. It’s funny how the situation feels both natural and tinged with a certain strangeness.

As she slides the lingerie on, Yujin glances at Eunbi from the corner of her eye. “You’re lucky, you know? Having a boyfriend who supports you in this kind of work… that’s rare.”

Eunbi nods, adjusting the strap of her bra. “He’s really supportive. He’s part of everything with me,” she says, smiling a little bashfully, which Yujin notices.

“A rare man,” Yujin remarks, looking at Eunbi for a moment, now that they’re both in just lingerie. “Most guys panic at the idea of their girlfriend doing this sort of thing.”

She pauses, her gaze quickly tracing over Eunbi. “By the way, let me just say—you look stunning like this, you know?”

Eunbi, surprised and a little shy, laughs and murmurs a “thank you,” adjusting her lingerie with a slight blush. Then, curious, she asks, “Have you ever dated anyone since you started creating adult content?”

Yujin lets out a sound that’s almost a laugh, tinged with a bit of irony. “I tried.I've met a few guys who seemed promising at first, but none of them were looking for a committed relationship. Not with me, at least. My last boyfriend broke up with me when I started filming porn videos. Preferred a life without, well, international popularity.”

“Oh…” Eunbi makes a sympathetic face. “And you were okay with that?”

“Better this way,” Yujin shrugs, almost indifferent. “These days, I sleep with lots of amazing guys and girls. Life goes on just fine, thanks.” She adjusts her lingerie, looking in the mirror with a critical yet satisfied gaze. “Oh, help me with the clasp back here?”

Eunbi steps closer to fix the clasp, still laughing at the comment, then asks with genuine curiosity, “Do you ever think about stopping one day?”

Yujin gives a conspiratorial wink. “When I’m a millionaire, absolutely.”

Eunbi raises her eyebrows. “Really? And is that close to happening?”

Yujin looks at her in the mirror, a smile spreading. “Closer than you’d think, darling.”

She finishes adjusting the lingerie and checks herself in the mirror, turning slightly to see how it fits. “So, how does it look?”

“Beautiful. Sensational. Sexy, even,” Eunbi replies, with a sincerity that’s almost playful.

The compliment comes back quickly: “And you look like a goddess, darling. God, I’d give anything to have those glorious breasts,” she sighs, with a dramatic touch of envy. “But, now, a serious question,” Yujin continues, looking directly at Eunbi. “Are you sure you’re not going to feel jealous during the filming?”

The question makes Eunbi give a nervous laugh, hesitating before answering. “No, no… it’s fine. We know it’s just work.”

But Yujin looks at her intently, as if she wants to be sure Eunbi really understands. “This is purely professional, Eunbi. He’s your boyfriend. Nothing’s going to change. When the camera’s off, everything goes back to normal, I promise.”

Eunbi sighs and admits, laughing a little. “Well… maybe part of me will feel a bit jealous, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Trust me, after the first time, you’ll get used to it,” she says, moving closer, looking at Eunbi with that same piercing gaze. Then, in a softer tone, she says, “You know what’ll help?”

“What?”

Yujin pauses for dramatic effect.

“Kiss me.”

Eunbi freezes, eyes wide as Yujin leans in slowly, a half-smile playing on her lips, savoring Eunbi’s surprise. “Relax, it’s just a kiss,” Yujin murmurs, her tone a mix of tease and tenderness. She waits for a response, but Eunbi just stays there, eyes fixed on Yujin’s lips, the gloss catching the light in a temptation too hard to resist.

Then, as if her body decides before her mind, Eunbi closes her eyes and lets herself be drawn in. Yujin’s lips touch hers softly, making her exhale as if the air suddenly got heavier. At first, it’s a tentative kiss, almost testing boundaries—a gentle brush, the taste of sweet strawberry filling Eunbi’s senses. But soon Yujin becomes firmer, tilting her head to deepen the kiss with a confidence only someone assured could manage.

Eunbi feels a hand slide slowly to her neck, fingers weaving into her hair, pulling her closer, and Yujin’s whole body aligns, pressing against her. “Breathe,” Yujin whispers against her lips, not pulling away, as if she’s guiding Eunbi to let go, to let control slip through her fingertips.

Eunbi releases a small sigh, something caught between nervousness and pure desire, her fingers trembling slightly as she holds Yujin by the waist, clutching there as if grounding herself. The taste of gloss, the soft scent of Yujin’s perfume, now so near, surround her, melding together and holding Eunbi captive, like a slow melody.

Yujin pulls away slowly, but not far, their faces still close enough for Eunbi to feel her warm breath. With that same mix of playful and affectionate smile, Yujin looks directly into Eunbi’s eyes, her fingers resting gently on the back of her neck. “See?” she murmurs, voice low and firm, almost like a secret. “The ice is broken now.”

Her thumb drifts to the corner of Eunbi’s mouth, where the gloss still glistens, brushing as if she’s wiping away the last trace of the kiss, and lets out a soft, satisfied chuckle. “No more tension, no more nerves. Now you know you can trust me.”

Eunbi just smiles back, heart racing, “I do trust you,” she replies, “and I’m ready to start.”

—

You’re stretched out on the couch, scrolling absentmindedly on your phone when a gentle voice breaks the quiet. You look up to find Eunbi and Yujin standing side by side, hands intertwined. They’re draped in fine lingerie that highlights each curve, every detail crafted to allure. Eunbi’s pink lace against Yujin’s cool blue creates a sight so captivating you’re left speechless.

Eunbi tilts her head with a small, teasing smile. “Well, we’re ready. Just waiting on you.” She winks.

Yujin leans closer, one brow raised, a grin on her lips. “Are you going to sit there all night or join us?” she teases, her tone light but authoritative. Turning to Eunbi, she wraps her arms around her neck, and they exchange a conspiratorial glance before laughing softly together.

You get up, trying to keep your cool as you follow them to the bedroom. Every detail set, an intimate little scene for just the three of you.

Inside the room, Yujin doesn’t waste a second. She watches you intently, her gaze that of a seasoned expert, and then commands, “Alright, just strip down.”

You hesitate, glancing at Eunbi for reassurance. She nods calmly, a soft encouragement. “Come on, babe. Just another video,” she murmurs, voice gentle but filled with affection.

One by one, you peel off each piece, stopping at your underwear. At this point, Yujin decides to break the mounting tension. She lets out a soft laugh, looks at Eunbi, and says, “Let’s just cut to the chase.”

Turning to you with a bold gleam in her eye, she says, “Excuse me, but I’m going to kiss your boyfriend.”

The air thickens, feeling both heavier and lighter, like some invisible barrier is about to come down. As it should. Yujin steps toward you, each movement filled with confidence, her eyes trailing over you, taking in every detail with a gleam that’s both professional and undeniably challenging.

She stops just inches away, her eyes glinting with intensity, a look that combines business with something raw and thrilling. “Are you ready, or do we need to spend all night convincing you?” Her head tilts, a smirk tugging at her lips, as she lifts a hand to your side, guiding it slowly to her waist.

Just a few steps away, Eunbi adjusts the camera on its tripod, trying to hide the flush in her cheeks as she focuses the lens, aligning the angle carefully. “Just so you know, I’m finding this hilarious,” she says with a smile, though her tone carries an undercurrent of affection and maybe a touch of possessiveness. She leans over to check the focus, her gaze briefly meeting yours before she looks back at the screen. “Better enjoy it… before I change my mind.” Her playful tone barely masks the blush spreading across her face.

Yujin chuckles, seeming to catch her drift. “Don’t worry, Eunbi—I’ll take good care of your boyfriend,” she says, her gaze never leaving yours. And without another word, she slides her hands to your neck, pulling you closer. Her lips meet yours, the kiss starting soft, giving you a moment to settle into the feeling, the sensation, before her fingers dive deeper, slipping along the nape of your neck, as though pulling you even closer.

Your hand moves almost on its own, resting on her waist, where the soft skin meets the lace. Your fingers drift up her back, and the kiss grows bolder, both of you falling into an easy rhythm. There’s a charged energy there, a delicate balance of nerves and a shared sense of release.

In one smooth movement, Yujin’s hand slides down your side to your waistband. She presses against the fabric, feeling the hardness beneath, a playful smile curling on her lips as she kisses you. She applies a bit more pressure, gauging your reaction. You feel warmth spread over every muscle, a pulse of nerves mixed with expectation.

“Oh, so this is how you respond,” she whispers, her lips brushing yours, voice barely more than a breath. Her hand tightens, confidence clear in her touch.

Eunbi, now finished setting up the camera (it's new, now your recordings will be in 4k), watches from a short distance, arms crossed, feigning impatience. “Alright, Yujin, I think that’s enough.”

Yujin steals one last kiss before pulling back, smirking. “Alright, Miss Eunbi, all done here.”

“Perfect,” Eunbi responds. “Now, boxers off, and sit down on the bed, babe. Let’s get started.”

Trying to look composed, you strip off your boxers and take a seat at the bed’s edge. Eunbi hands you the camera, which distracts your mind—focusing on capturing every moment makes it a bit easier.

Holding the equipment steady, you watch as Eunbi and Yujin kneel between your legs, each settling into position with a practiced balance of intimacy and poise. You adjust the camera, aiming to capture every detail as they lean in close. Through the lens, you see Yujin’s confident experience alongside Eunbi’s eager, intense sincerity.

“Alright, let’s begin,” you say, “One, two, three… rolling!”

Yujin moves first, her hand wrapping around your cock with steady ease, her tongue tracing slowly over every inch, savoring each part while her gaze locks onto yours with a playful glint. “Mmm, you taste so good,” she murmurs, tone teasing, confident.

Eunbi watches, her eyes tracing Yujin’s every move, soaking up each gesture and touch. When she can’t wait any longer, she leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the base, her gaze intense, filled with adoration and hunger, like she’s taking in every sensation, every detail.

"Like that, Eunbi, slow—make him feel every second," Yujin whispers, a subtle smile on her face, watching as Eunbi tries to match her pace. Eunbi gives a barely perceptible nod, determined yet completely surrendered, as if there were nowhere else in the world she'd rather be. She drags her tongue along the base while Yujin takes the tip, alternating pressure, surrounding you with an intensity that’s almost overwhelming.

"Are you enjoying this, love?" Eunbi asks, her voice soft, thick with desire. She meets your gaze, searching for the answer in your eyes. Her lips brush over your skin with a tenderness that contrasts with the heat of the moment, each kiss like a silent promise.

"More than you could imagine," you rasp, struggling to keep your focus on the camera.

Yujin laughs softly, pleased by the effect they both have on you. Without warning, she takes you deeper, her lips sliding firmly, rhythmically. Her tongue circles the tip, drawing slow, teasing loops before she pulls you in, creating a pressure that sends waves of tension up your spine. "I'm going to make you lose control, and Eunbi will help," she says, a teasing tone underlying her words, her eyes alight with purpose.

Driven by her own desire, Eunbi switches between soft kisses and playful licks, exploring every inch with quiet determination.

"Yes, just like that, but firmer," Yujin instructs, holding the base as Eunbi joins her, their faces close enough that their hair nearly tangles. The combination of Yujin's precise skill and Eunbi's gentle touch is mind-blowing.

They work in tandem, Yujin taking the head as Eunbi trails her tongue along the base, each motion coordinated, each touch a new peak of pleasure. At one point, Yujin lets a hand slip down to your balls, massaging with delicate care as her mouth moves with increased intensity. "Let’s get this cock dripping wet," Yujin whispers, her gaze never leaving yours, heat flooding your body.

Emboldened by the rhythm and intensity, Eunbi lowers further, kissing along your thighs, each touch warm and light, as though she’s claiming the space. "You’re so hot, baby," she murmurs, running her tongue over your balls, alternating licks and soft kisses, every motion like a declaration of her desire.

The camera catches every detail—the looks, the touches, the mouths moving in perfect sync as Yujin and Eunbi work together, drawing you closer to the edge. Yujin’s eyes hold that knowing, wicked gleam, while Eunbi, lost in her own admiration and passion, gains confidence with each passing second.

They switch off, Yujin licking her way up your length as Eunbi focuses on the head, each pouring all their attention into every touch. In one moment of pure synchronicity, they glance at each other, smiling, and begin sucking together, Yujin lower, Eunbi at the top, her tongue teasing with playful swirls.

"Look at him," Yujin whispers to Eunbi, fingers brushing along Eunbi’s thigh for encouragement. "Show your naughty boyfriend how much you want this."

Eunbi follows her lead, lifting her gaze to meet yours, her eyes warm and inviting. She holds you firmly, her mouth hot and soft around you, sending a flush through your body.

"Now let’s play with your tits, princess," Yujin suggests.

Eunbi pulls away from your cock, her pink lips gleaming with saliva. Keeping her eyes on you, she reaches back and, with a graceful, deliberate motion, unhooks her bra. The fabric slips away, baring her firm, full breasts, her nipples already hard. She smiles, confidence and desire radiating from her every move.

Yujin watches intently, her gaze hungry. "I think we’ll need a little extra help with this, don’t you?" she murmurs, smiling with intent. Leaning toward Eunbi, the two share a conspiratorial look before each one lets a thin line of saliva drip down onto Eunbi’s breasts, warming the already flushed skin.

Eunbi bites her lip, her body reacting, and Yujin slides her hands over Eunbi’s chest, spreading the moisture slowly, her fingers caressing and squeezing. "This will feel even better for you," she murmurs, looking over at the camera, her voice low and sultry.

Eunbi shifts closer, pressing her breasts softly around your cock. The way they are—the skin glistening with saliva, the hard, pink nipples, the slow, careful movements—is perfection. Yujin smiles at you, dimples showing, her confidence somehow heightening the intensity of the moment.

Eunbi presses her breasts tighter around you, surrounding you in her warm softness. She begins to move in a measured rhythm as Yujin helps guide her motions, both of them keeping their eyes on you, capturing every reaction.

"Do you like it like this, love?" Eunbi asks, her voice low, full of affection and lust. She quickens the pace, alternating between sultry glances your way and shared smiles with Yujin.

You can barely respond, caught up in the sight—the gentle, devoted touch of Eunbi contrasting with the predatory gleam in Yujin’s eyes as she takes in each detail, enjoying every moment.

Yujin catches the look on your face, a satisfied gleam in her eyes. "Oh, I think he’s loving it," she murmurs. Then she moves closer to Eunbi, licking her own lips before leaning in to kiss her.

Eunbi sighs against Yujin’s lips, her chest still pressed against you, her breasts soft and warm as she continues moving. "He loves watching us like this," Yujin whispers to Eunbi, a slow, wicked smile curving her lips. "Look how he’s reacting."

She turns her gaze back to you, eyes full of intent, and murmurs, "I love making you feel good, baby."

Yujin pulls Eunbi in for another kiss, deeper and more urgent. She whispers something in Eunbi’s ear, something you can’t hear but that makes Eunbi smile and press even closer, her energy insatiable.

Her hands grip tighter, intensifying the rhythm, each stroke a heated slide against your skin. Beside her, Yujin slides a hand under her own panties, barely containing her own need as she watches, fingers getting wet as she slides them into her pussy, her eyes fixed on the two of you.

"You look so damn good between her tits," Yujin purrs, a wicked smile on her lips. She pulls her hand from her panties, fingers shining, bringing them to her mouth, licking them clean while keeping her gaze locked on the scene before her. "My panties are soaked just watching," she murmurs, a laugh escaping as she bites her lip.

Spurred by Yujin’s words, Eunbi picks up the pace, her breasts squeezing tighter around you, her mouth teasing as her tongue flicks over your tip. Each time she moves down, she presses closer, feeling every throb. "God, this feels so good," you groan, "I'm so fucking turned on, babe."

Yujin lets out a moan of her own, fingers circling faster against herself. "Oh, Eunbi, you're making your boyfriend feel so good… just look at him," she taunts, licking her fingers again before slipping them back between her thighs, her wetness echoing as she loses herself to her need.

Seeing the look of heated anticipation in Yujin’s eyes, Eunbi leans in closer, pressing her breasts around you in a tighter, more intense rhythm, her mouth quirking into a teasing smile. "You want him to fuck that wet little pussy of yours, don’t you, Yujin?" she murmurs, voice low and provocative.

Yujin moans, biting her lip, her fingers digging into her own skin. "Yes… I want him. I want to feel him… all the way inside me," she whispers, her voice trembling with pure need, her eyes ravenous as they fix on you.

Eunbi chuckles softly, not missing a beat as she continues, pressing you even more firmly as she commands, "Then beg, Yujin! Beg my boyfriend, ask him to fuck you just like you want, you little slut." Her voice rings with a possessive edge that only intensifies her allure.

Yujin doesn’t hesitate. She moans louder, fingers sinking deeper as her eyes meet yours, burning with desire. "Please, baby… fuck me," she pleads, voice nearly a whimper, her face an open invitation. "I need that thick, hard cock stretching me, filling me. Please, make me yours. I want every inch of you," she begs, her words broken by gasps as she keeps touching herself, her hips moving in rhythm, fully surrendered to you.

Watching them, the desire inside you grows with each word, each desperate movement. "I'm going to give you exactly what you want, Yujin," you murmur, voice promising, sending a shiver through her. "I'm gonna wreck that pussy."

“Then do it, baby,” Eunbi urges, pulling her breasts away from your cock. “Ruin this little slut’s pussy.”

The tension in the room reaches a boiling point.

Yujin slips off her soaked panties, kicking them aside as she lies back, legs open, body utterly exposed and eager. Her eyes glint with anticipation as you position yourself between her thighs. Holding your cock firmly, you tease her entrance, just enough to feel her warmth but without fully entering. That light touch alone makes Yujin moan, her body arching, begging silently.

She glances over to Eunbi, eyes playful. “And you? Just going to stand there?” She smiles, taunting, face pure lust. “I want you here, Eunbi... want to feel you on my tongue.”

Eunbi chuckles, her laugh sultry and wicked, and without hesitation, she slips off her own panties, moving to Yujin. Smiling, she positions herself over Yujin's face, thighs spread, lowering herself just enough so Yujin can taste her as she wants. “Then make it good, Yujin,” Eunbi orders, voice low and powerful. “I want to feel every lick.”

Yujin doesn’t need another word. Gripping Eunbi's thighs, she pulls her closer, her tongue diving eagerly between her folds, sucking with a nearly desperate intensity, her muffled moans vibrating against Eunbi's body.

Meanwhile, you press a little harder against Yujin's entrance, still teasing, letting her feel each inch but still not giving in. She arches, pressing herself up to meet you, pleading silently. “Please… put it in,” she whispers, voice dripping with need as her mouth never leaves Eunbi, each lick growing more ravenous.

With a knowing smirk, you oblige.

Yujin writhes beneath you, adjusting her hips to take you fully. “Oh god! Oh- Fuck yes! This is what I wanted!” she gasps, her voice thick with desire.

Eunbi, perched over her, grips her own breasts, fingers teasing her sensitive nipples. “Yes, Yujin… keep eating me out,” she moans, voice trembling as Yujin's tongue circles, exploring every part, making Eunbi shiver on top of her. She meets your gaze, cheeks flushed, and grins wickedly. “You like watching Yujin eat me out while you fuck her, don’t you?”

“Yeah… fuck, I love it, you’re both so fucking hot,” you breathe, voice barely more than a whisper.

Yujin squirms under Eunbi’s weight, moaning into her wet pussy, the sound muffled but enough to stoke your own arousal. “Harder,” Yujin murmurs between licks, “make me feel every inch, don’t stop… I want you to fuck this tight little pussy deep.”

You pick up the pace, your hips slamming against her with more force, feeling the pressure building around you. One hand finds Yujin's clit, rubbing in slow circles, and she bucks against you, a louder moan escaping her.

Eunbi watches, biting her lip, her body tensing as Yujin devours her. “Yes, baby… keep going, fuck her deeper,” she encourages, grinding down, forcing Yujin’s mouth to work harder.

Your hand moves expertly, fingers tracing circles over Yujin’s clit while you thrust, feeling each tight pulse around your cock. With each thrust, her body arches, her face buried between Eunbi’s thighs, making her moan louder with each lick, every touch more intense.

Eunbi smiles at you, a mix of pleasure and taunt, biting her lower lip. “Go on, babe… fuck her good,” she whispers between moans, “I want to hear her scream for you.” Her words push you over, and you increase your rhythm, pounding her, Yujin’s body responding to each deep stroke. Her legs quiver, fingers gripping the sheets, nails digging in as her mouth stays busy between Eunbi’s legs.

Yujin, overwhelmed by the pleasure, lets out muffled moans, each sound vibrating against Eunbi, making her grind down, moaning even louder. “Yes… don’t stop, don’t stop,” Yujin pants, her voice broken with pleasure as her body tightens around you, breath coming in gasps.

Eunbi looks at you, her voice soft, almost a whisper, full of encouragement. “That’s it, babe… keep going… give her everything! Make her come, make her feel your cock in every inch of her,” she teases, her eyes bright as she presses down harder on Yujin’s mouth, lost in the sensation of her tongue.

You lean forward, increasing the pressure on Yujin's clit as you thrust deeper, your fingers moving faster, more insistent, the camera shaking in your other hand (you’ll thank the image stabilizer later). Yujin’s moans grow frantic, her body arching again, every muscle tense. “Yes… I’m gonna come…” she cries, her voice breaking as her body shudders in climax, while Eunbi lets out a cry of her own, lost in the rhythm of Yujin’s tongue.

Yujin’s entire body shakes, muscles tight as she surrenders completely, her voice hoarse, almost shouting. “Ah… don’t… don’t stop… it’s so good, so… ahhh, yes! Harder… more… I…!”

Your fingers press down harder on her clit, stroking in time with each thrust as you sink deeper, feeling every pulse of her tight little pussy. Yujin bites her lip, a choked scream escaping as her hands grip the sheets, eyes squeezing shut, lost in ecstasy. “Oh… my… god… I’m… ahhh, I’m coming, don’t stop, please!”

Eunbi, still perched over Yujin, watches, eyes bright with arousal, her own moans heightening as she sees Yujin’s state. She urges you on, her voice soft but fervent. “Yes, babe! Make this slut come on your cock… make her lose control!”

Then, Yujin’s body seizes, a sharp cry tearing from her throat as she squirts over your thighs and onto the sheets. “Ahhhh! Yes… yes… ahhh! I’m- Oh God! Mmm, I’m coming…!” Yujin practically sobs, her body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure ripples through her, surrendering fully to the overwhelming intensity.

Eunbi lifts herself, lips parted, watching Yujin with awe. “My god, Yujin… look what he’s done to you,” she murmurs, barely holding back her own desire.

Still flushed and breathing heavily, Yujin laughs quietly, her cheeks pink, eyes half-lidded as she looks up at you, body still tingling from the aftermath. “Fuck… that cock… made me come so good,” she whispers with a smile, gaze locked on you.

Eunbi, eyes alight with a mix of possessiveness and lust, gives you a provocative smile, biting her lower lip. “So… now you’re going to fuck your girlfriend, aren’t you?” Her voice is laced with challenge and excitement. She positions herself at the edge of the bed, on all fours, ass lifted toward you, offering you the perfect view, while Yujin moves up, legs spread wide in front of your girlfriend.

With a mischievous glint, she spreads her wet folds with her fingers, beckoning Eunbi’s face closer. “Come, Eunbi… lick me while he fucks you,” she whispers, her hand gripping Eunbi’s hair, guiding her closer. “Yes, give me that tongue… show me how well you can eat pussy,” Yujin continues, moaning as Eunbi’s mouth begins to work on her.

Standing behind, you position your cock and slide slowly into Eunbi, feeling her hot, tight walls surround you. A groan escapes your lips as you sink deeper into her, each inch pulling you in. “Fuck, Eunbi… you’re so wet… so good,” you whisper, lost in the intense pleasure.

Eunbi, gasping between licks on Yujin, pants. “Yes, babe… fuck me… deeper… I want to feel you filling me.” She moves back against you, hips circling, each thrust pulling you in further, her ass trembling with each motion, every deep stroke drawing fresh moans from her.

Yujin, delirious from the feel of Eunbi’s tongue against her dripping cunt, grabs her hair, pulling just a little to savor every lick even deeper. “Ahhh, Eunbi, just like that… keep going… Mmm, you're such a slut!” she breathes, her words slipping between moans, eyes squeezed shut as each brush of that soft, wet tongue over her sensitive folds drives her wild.

The tension surges as you thrust deeper, your hands gripping Eunbi’s hips tightly, each push pulling louder, needier sounds from her. “Fuck… so tight,” you murmur, feeling her wetness, her warmth, tightening around every inch as you plunge in. Eunbi can barely keep up as she sucks Yujin, her own body trembling, pressing back against you, every move inviting you to go harder, deeper.

Yujin watches, her lips parted, a throaty moan escaping as she locks eyes with the sight of you taking your girlfriend. “Mmm, fuck,” she chuckles between moans, “You two are so fucking hot!”

Your grip on Eunbi’s waist tightens, her slick cunt clenching around you, and you lean close to her ear. “I’m taking that sweet ass next, babe.” She shivers, biting her lip, and breathes a shaky response. “Yeah, do it… fuck my ass… I want it,” she whimpers, her voice thick with excitement and anticipation.

You guide yourself, pressing the head of your cock slowly against her tight little opening, watching her stretch to take you in. Bit by bit, you slide forward, filling her.

“Ahhh… so tight,” you murmur, your breaths ragged as you film every inch with the new camera, capturing in 4K the way her snug ass opens around you. Eunbi lets out a loud moan, her head thrown back. “Yes, take it… let him wreck that ass,” Yujin whispers to her, reaching down to touch herself as she watches.

“Yes… yes, fuck my ass… fill me, go deeper…,” Eunbi moans, her voice quivering, her whole body alight as you sink in.

Holding her hip firmly, you draw her back, your cock fitting fully inside her tight hole, feeling each part of her yielding to your slow, deliberate rhythm. She lets out a long, low groan, head thrown back, face twisted in a blend of pain and pleasure as she adjusts to the intense stretch.

“Ohh, yeah… keep going… fill me up, I can take it,” she moans, eyes half-lidded, biting her lip, face flushed in pure ecstasy. Each thrust is a new adjustment, feeling her intense tightness, each slide bringing a fresh wave of sensation. “You love this, don’t you, you little slut?” you taunt, voice gravelly, pushing deeper.

Eunbi squirms, her body trembling with each thrust. “Mmm, Yes! Fuck, I love feeling you wreck me… Keep using me, babe, keep- Oh! Like that, baby! Yeah!” she responds, voice shaky, cut off by erratic moans, completely surrendered. With each thrust, the wet, filthy sounds fill the room, bodies colliding in raw, unrestrained passion.

Yujin, still watching close by, runs a hand down her own dripping pussy, eyes fixed on the scene, filled with lust. “God, look at her… you’re destroying her ass,” she whispers, her voice loaded with excitement.

Your firm grip on Eunbi’s hips pulls her back, every inch sinking deep into her tight little ass, feeling her muscles surrender to the slow, deliberate rhythm. She lets out a long, low moan, her head thrown back, her face mixing pain and pleasure as she adjusts to the intense stretch.

"Fuck, babe, watching you eat her pussy gets me so fucking hot," you growl, voice rough, thrusting even deeper. Your hand rises, landing a hard slap on her ass.

“Ow, babe! Yes, slap me! Don’t stop, wreck my little ass, fuck me good!”

Eunbi's moans fill the room, blending with the sound of your hips colliding with her body. Each movement is met with a sharp smack that leaves her skin tingling. “Ahhh, harder… fuck, go deeper… break me,” she begs, her voice hoarse, totally lost in the intense pleasure as you keep pounding, every slap drawing a new moan, louder and dripping with lust.

Yujin, lying on the bed with her legs spread, holds Eunbi’s face firmly, guiding her back to keep licking. “You two are going to make me cum just watching… keep sucking, baby… Mmm, yeah! Just like that! I’m so close, don’t stop!” Yujin moans, her voice trembling as her body arches, writhing with pleasure under Eunbi’s relentless tongue work. Eunbi’s mouth moves faster, sucking with fervor.

“Yeah, Yujin, cum all over her mouth… let my girl taste you,” you say, watching the wild scene unfolding, slowing your thrusts to let Eunbi focus on making Yujin climax. Your girlfriend responds with a muffled moan, intensifying her movements, eyes shut tight in pure concentration, determined to bring Yujin to the edge.

Eunbi feels Yujin’s body tense under her tongue, each shudder racing through her like a live current, her moans rising until they turn into raw, guttural cries. “Ahhh… yes, Eunbi… right there… make me cum, don’t stop!” Yujin practically screams, her nails digging into the sheets, back arching, utterly lost in the moment. Her breaths come fast, each gasp a wave, as Eunbi continues licking with unwavering devotion, her tongue tracing and exploring every wet, trembling inch.

Eunbi, lips and mouth fully devoted to Yujin’s pleasure, mutters through a mouth full of desire, “Cum for me, you dirty slut.” She grips Yujin’s thighs, pulling her closer, not letting any motion escape, savoring every drop. Yujin, utterly spent, sinks her head into the pillows, moaning as the waves of an overwhelming orgasm crash over her.

“Fuck, Eunbi… ahhhh… I’m cumming… cumming in your mouth…!” Yujin gasps, lost in breathless moans and broken cries.

Eunbi’s tongue laps eagerly, drinking in every drop of the hot release that spills from Yujin. She swallows it all, low moans vibrating as she savors the rich taste. With her face still glistening, Eunbi leans back, enough to release a heavy sigh, feeling you sliding your cock in and out, slow and deliberate. “Ahh… I’m close too… almost there,” she whispers, voice thick with need. Yujin, still basking in the glow, laughs softly, a wicked gleam in her eye, as she slowly rises, hand reaching out to take the camera from you with a playful grin. “Let me handle this now… it’s time to make this sexy girl lose it.”

You pull slowly out of Eunbi’s ass, watching her shiver from the sudden emptiness. Now with the camera in Yujin’s hands, the heat in the room rises even more. “I’m capturing everything from this angle… from below, catching every detail.” She asks Eunbi to stand up, guiding you both to place a leg on the bed, opening up to the camera’s raw, unfiltered view.

The two of you follow, adjusting your legs as Yujin instructed, exposing your bodies fully to the camera’s keen eye. Breathing heavily, Eunbi steadies herself, half-closed eyes watching as you position yourself behind her, ready to continue. Yujin kneels just beneath her, angling the camera from the floor so it perfectly captures your cock lined up to press back into Eunbi’s ass, her face already anticipating the pleasure. “Go on, honey… I want to see you ruin her ass.” Yujin murmurs, her voice thick with desire.

With a firm grip on Eunbi’s hips, you press against her tight entrance once more, pushing slowly until you’re fully inside. Eunbi cries out, her head tilting back as Yujin looks up, licking her lips. “That’s it, fill her up… I want to hear her moaning for you.” As the camera rolls, Yujin leans closer to Eunbi’s wet pussy, diving in hungrily, tongue exploring every part while the lens captures every second in vivid detail.

You clutch Eunbi’s hips tightly, thrusting deep into her tight ass, each stroke pulling raw, almost pleading moans from her. “This is what you want, isn’t it? To be fucked on every side like a dirty little slut,” you whisper, watching her face twist in pleasure, that wild glint in her eyes.

“Mmm, yes… yes!” Eunbi cries, barely able to form words as Yujin, still on her knees between Eunbi’s parted thighs, eats her out with hungry intent, focusing especially on her swollen, sensitive clit, licking and pulsing rapidly. “You love this, don’t you?” Yujin murmurs against her wet skin, voice tinged with mischief. “Having your man destroy your ass while I lick your wet pussy!”

“Mmm, Yeah! I love this so much, I feel so slutty.… don’t stop… fuck my ass harder, baby!” Eunbi begs, clutching her own breasts, every word punctuated by broken moans, Yujin’s fingers digging into her thighs, holding them wide open. You pick up speed, thrusting deeper, feeling her body tighten, her ass squeezing around your big cock as she surrenders completely, every inch of her body pulsing with ecstasy.

“She’s almost there, honey,” Yujin says, looking up at you with a devilish gleam in her eyes. “Make her scream, baby, make sure she knows who’s in charge.”

Eunbi writhes, half-closed eyes and face fully given over to pleasure, as you pound into her tight ass harder with each thrust. Her body quivers with each plunge, tense muscles, guttural moans spilling from her lips. Yujin, eyes fixed on Eunbi’s delirious expression, slips two fingers deep into her creamy pussy, moving with steady, firm thrusts, filling the room with the obscene, wet sounds of her every movement.

“Ah… yes… yes!” Eunbi nearly screams, the sound choked by your relentless pace. Yujin leans down again, mouth capturing her sensitive clit, making a lewd sucking sound, her fingers sliding in and out of that creamy, soaking pussy, her hand slick with the hot juices flowing in response. Eunbi’s body arches, utterly surrendered to both of you, every nerve alive with intense, violent pleasure.

Then suddenly, she can’t hold back—the climax hits her like a tidal wave. Eunbi’s eyes roll back, seized by an orgasm that takes control of her, body twisting, clenching in spasms as she cries out, a release that nearly takes her breath away. Her pussy tightens hard around Yujin’s fingers, releasing waves of hot juice as her ass contracts around your cock, like she’s trying to keep you inside, each pulsing contraction showing just how intensely she feels it.

“That’s it, baby… cum for us,” you murmur, Yujin’s fingers still working quickly, every motion drawing more aftershocks until Eunbi nearly collapses, trembling uncontrollably.

You hold Eunbi close against you, feeling each spasm slowly easing, her soft tremors still rippling through her body as the final waves of her orgasm fade. Her sweaty, flushed face rests on your shoulder, eyes closed, a look of pure satisfaction on her lips as she feels you slipping out of her, inch by inch.

Yujin rises slowly, her gaze smoldering as she looks at both of you, her mouth still glistening with Eunbi's essence. She finally unhooks her bra, tossing it aside, and without a word, pulls you in for a deep kiss. Her tongue slides into your mouth, unashamedly sharing the salty, tangy taste of your girlfriend’s pussy, still hot on her lips. It's a slow, wet kiss, where she delights in teasing you, her mouth moving with a firmness that leaves you tense, craving more.

Eunbi, still catching her breath, practically purrs with desire, her half-lidded eyes watching the two of you devour each other. “I want some too,” she murmurs, her voice husky, almost a moan. Yujin smiles against your lips, then pulls Eunbi close, bringing the three of you together in a kiss dripping with lust.

Your tongues meet, sliding against each other in a hot, chaotic frenzy, the taste of Eunbi mingling between you all. The three of you breathe harder, each of you more ravenous than the last, devouring one another with no reservations. Yujin whispers something between kisses, her voice a mischievous murmur. “You two drive me crazy... so delicious,” she says, her hand slipping to the nape of Eunbi’s neck, holding her firmly as she deepens the kiss, tongues tangling and teasing with each motion.

Eunbi moans softly against both your mouths, eyes closed, her fingers tracing along your thigh, slowly rising, each touch light and tempting. “You and her made me cum so good, I’ve never felt anything like that before,” she whispers, her face so close you feel the heat of her words. “But now, I want to see you cum for us…”

Yujin joins her, “Yes, baby, cover our faces with that hot cum.” The perverted tone in her voice only intensifies the heat pooling in your body.

“If that’s what you want, then both of you, get on your knees.”

Without hesitation, they sink down slowly, their eyes locked on yours, each movement a show of submission and desire. Eunbi kneels on your right, Yujin to your left, the two of them exchanging knowing looks and smiling, as if they already know what’s coming. Both of their faces glow with anticipation, mouths slightly parted, hungry gazes that don’t waver for a second.

You lean down, picking up the camera and angling it to capture every detail from above. The image on the screen shows Eunbi and Yujin looking up, lascivious smiles on their lips, eyes alight with excitement as they wait eagerly. “Look at you two,” you murmur, your voice thick with admiration and provocation. “My girls, so beautiful and submissive, ready to take my load.”

Yujin starts first, gripping firmly as her tongue slides over the tip, already slick with pre-cum. “Mmm... love your taste,” she murmurs, before opening her mouth and taking in the head, sucking slowly, feeling you throb against her tongue.

Eunbi watches, biting her lip, and soon joins in, leaning in to press soft kisses along the base while her hands caress your thighs and stomach, nails skimming your skin, leaving a trail of shivers. “Give us that hot load, baby,” she whispers with a voice full of desire, before licking slowly from the base to the middle of your shaft, leaving a wet trail as her eyes meet yours.

They take turns as if rehearsed, Yujin licking the frenulum with precision that makes you moan low, the tip of her tongue making slow, firm circles. Eunbi kisses along the length, making every inch wet and slick, creating a mix of warmth and moisture that leaves you harder than ever. “It’s so big… feels so good in my mouth,” she says, her hands stroking you as she looks up, that naughty smile on her face.

Yujin pulls Eunbi closer and murmurs, “Let’s show him how well we take care of him…” Together, they begin running their tongues along the length of your cock, one on each side, meeting at the tip, exchanging a glance before diving back in, Yujin sucking the head while Eunbi gently sucks on your balls, her lips wrapping around them softly, alternating between kisses and gentle sucks.

“You’re both going to make me cum like this…” you groan, unable to hold back the rising pleasure. Yujin looks up, her lips still wrapped around you, and mutters in a husky voice, “Then cum… we want every drop…”

They both intensify, Eunbi now holding the base firmly while Yujin begins to stroke you.

You feel control slipping away and warn, “I’m close…,” your voice hoarse, each second bringing you closer to the edge. Yujin keeps sucking the tip, her lips pressing against the frenulum with calculated precision.

The pleasure builds, your whole body tense as Yujin and Eunbi wait, kneeling and ravenous, their beautiful faces filled with anticipation. Yujin’s grip tightens, her hand moving faster and firmer as she watches you, her gaze fixed on your face, studying every reaction with visible satisfaction. “That’s it, keep going... let us feel everything,” she whispers, and increases the rhythm, sliding her hand with steady, relentless strokes, pushing you over the limit.

Eunbi watches each moment, licking her lips and sharing a provocative look with Yujin. “Go ahead, baby, don’t hold back,” she murmurs, her voice soft but urgent, her fingers moving slowly over your balls, pressing lightly, matching the pace of Yujin’s strokes, both of them fully focused on taking you to the peak.

Feeling the imminent release, you give a low warning, “I’m... I’m gonna cum…” They both smile, faces eager and hungry, leaning in closer, offering their faces as canvases ready to receive every drop. The first spurt erupts powerfully, thick and hot, hitting Yujin squarely, dribbling down her cheek to her parted lips. She moans low, an expression of absolute pleasure as the cum slides down, licking the edge of her lips, savoring it slowly,”Mmm, so fucking good!” she sighs, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Cum more, baby, please!”

The second spurt lands on Eunbi, splashing across her forehead and dripping down her face. She moans loudly, closing her eyes and leaning forward for more, letting the cum glide down her skin with a satisfied smile. “God... you came so much, baby,” she murmurs, licking her upper lip, tasting your release.

You’re not done yet, the accumulated pleasure so intense that the third burst shoots out forcefully, landing right between the two of them. They look at each other, faces messy and glistening with your cum, eyes sparking with desire as each lets her tongue slide slowly, teasingly, toward the spot where the last drop fell. You hold the camera steady, capturing every detail: the hungry gaze they share, the tips of their tongues meeting right in the center of that thick, warm mixture.

Yujin is the first to lean in, her tongue moving slowly across Eunbi’s cheek, licking a trail of your cum dripping down her face, savoring every inch with deliberate care. “Mmm, so good… hot and thick, just like I imagined,” she whispers, looking at you with a wicked smile before turning back to Eunbi.

Eunbi lets out a low moan, leaning in toward Yujin, her tongue finding drops at the corner of her friend’s mouth, and then her tongue slides a little further, sucking Yujin's chin, where there is a good portion of your cum accumulated. “Your cum tastes so good, baby,” Eunbi murmurs.

With the camera close, you capture the moment they start rubbing their tongues against each other, every movement intense, almost primal. Yujin chuckles softly, her hand caressing Eunbi’s face as she pulls her closer, lifting her own face slightly to spit onto Eunbi’s tongue, who receives it without hesitation. Yujin’s own tongue slides into Eunbi’s mouth with torturous slowness, mixing more of your cum with the taste of each other, low sounds of satisfaction echoing through the room.

Their mouths meet in a final, deep, wet, filthy kiss, licking and sucking everything away. The camera captures the final image: both of them with faces painted in your cum, eyes shining, wicked and satisfied.

You bring the camera closer, capturing every detail of their faces, smeared and glistening with the remnants of your pleasure. With a satisfied smile, you murmur, “Fuck, you two look absolutely gorgeous like this, my perfect cumsluts…” They look at each other and burst into laughter, a sweet, shared laugh, with that glint of someone who’s gone all the way and loved every second of it.

Yujin, wiping a last drop off Eunbi’s brow with her thumb, looks straight into the camera and, with a playful grin, asks, “So… did you enjoy this delicious experience? Was it worth it?”

You smile, nodding as the camera remains focused on their expressions. “It was perfect. Better than I could have imagined.” Eunbi, still catching her breath with cheeks flushed, admits with a satisfied sigh, “I… had no idea it would feel this good. You two… it was indescribable.”

Yujin wraps an arm around Eunbi and says warmly, “I knew you’d love it! Thank you for trusting me and diving in. You were both incredible.”

“Now… how about a little farewell for our audience?” you suggest, your tone playful. The two exchange a glance, and without hesitation, they press their cheeks together, bringing their hands up in a cute little wave, blowing kisses toward the camera. “Thank you for watching… see you next time!” they say in unison, an adorable tone that contrasts with what just happened, laughing softly as they say goodbye with their faces close, sharing light, carefree giggles.

You capture the final frame—two beautiful women, utterly relaxed, eyes still sparkling with excitement, completely caught up in the moment. With a final sigh, you end the recording, knowing you're one lucky fucking man.

—

You step out of the shower feeling like a conqueror of the world—or at least of your own little, unexpected corner of it. The coolness of the water still seems to dance over your skin, every muscle relaxed, every thought light, as if all the effort of the day had evaporated away. You throw on a T-shirt and loose pants and head into the living room, where the stars of the day—Eunbi and Yujin—are already settled in, looking comfortable, like veterans of many such adventures (and maybe, in Yujin’s case, that’s not far from the truth).

Eunbi is curled up in a hoodie three sizes too big, looking perfectly cozy, while Yujin’s wrapped in one of Eunbi’s borrowed robes, savoring a generous spoonful of ice cream.

“So, how are you two feeling?” you ask, the excitement in your voice almost dancing by itself.

The two exchange a knowing smile. “Relaxed,” Eunbi answers with a soft smile, her eyes still sparkling.

“Alive,” Yujin adds, pausing only to take another spoonful of ice cream. Then she turns to Eunbi with a casual look and a curious smile. “And the jealousy, honey? How’d you hold up?”

Eunbi blushes, but she doesn’t look away, accepting the question as a challenge. “You know… at first, yeah. It was hard seeing him… connecting with someone else. But as I watched how much he was enjoying it… I don’t know, I think I started enjoying it, too.”

Yujin laughs softly, clearly pleased. “Now that’s the spirit. And can I just say? For your first time with a girl, you were amazing.” She regards Eunbi with playful admiration. “And I’m not just talking about technique, you know? It was more… your enthusiasm.”

Eunbi blushes even more but doesn’t lose her smile. “Well… you made it easy.”

Yujin turns to you with that look of someone sharing the world’s most obvious secret, adding, “And you… I have to say, those guys who seem quiet and reserved… they always end up being the best. Must be something to do with… attention to detail.”

You chuckle awkwardly, trying to hide the satisfaction that still shows. “Look, I never… really imagined I’d be… with two incredible women like this.” You try, but words don’t seem to be enough.

“Oh, and getting paid for it, no less! How do you manage it?”

“The money and the adventures are great,” you begin, feeling a sudden inspiration, “but seeing my girl happy is what really matters to me. I’m just in this for her, and for as far as she wants to go.”

Yujin gives a playful look between you and Eunbi. “See? You two have something special. Most couples wouldn’t even consider this, but you? You’re here, having fun, creating intimate and unique memories, just embracing it all. No bullshit.”

Eunbi, still smiling with a mix of pride and tenderness, sighs. “Yeah… but honestly? I think what makes it work is that we… talk. Like, really talk.”

“Yes,” Yujin adds, “that’s rarer than it sounds. And don’t get me wrong, sometimes just the… physical part is great, you know? But having someone who understands and supports you? That’s the hard part to find.” She gives a soft, almost sentimental smile before diving back into her ice cream as if it were the last of its kind.

“So, is it time for your podcast with Sana now?” Eunbi asks.

Yujin nods eagerly. “Yep, straight from a hot session with you two to the spotlight.”

You laugh lightly. “Can’t believe we have a celebrity in our apartment. How do you handle all these commitments?”

She leans in with an exaggerated expression of importance, pretending to adjust an invisible crown. “Oh, darlings, you’re in the presence of a businesswoman. Important, in-demand, and… completely devoted to this fantastic ice cream!”

Eunbi smiles, her eyes shining with admiration. “I’m going to watch the episode! Bet you’ll steal the show!”

“You… err… You two are just so sweet, you know?” Yujin murmurs, but her voice breaks, a sudden, unexpected emotion making her words stumble. Tears start forming silently in her eyes as she tries, comically, to keep devouring the ice cream as if nothing’s happening. She laughs, a clumsy sob escaping as tears fall without ceremony. “Sorry, it’s just… you know, it’s so good. This ice cream… is emotionally very intense, I guess. It just caught me off guard.”

Eunbi, a bit alarmed, asks softly, “Yujin, are you okay?”

“Of course!” Yujin laughs again, still mixing her shaky voice with humor to brush it off. “It’s just… it’s like everything hit me all at once, you know? Just… tired. But nothing serious.” She wipes her tears with the back of her hand, smiling. “It’s not depression or anything, okay? Just a bit of burnout. Something light. Normal.”

You watch the tension unwind from her face, layer by layer, and feel something more than curiosity—real concern, that uncomfortable feeling of seeing someone who seemed unbreakable finally give way. You sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her with almost reverent care.

“Yujin,” you say, your voice low and steady. “If you need anything, anything at all…”

Yujin looks up, a little surprised, then smiles. It’s almost a painful smile, one that won’t quite admit that maybe, just maybe, she really does need that offer of help. She shakes her head. “No, really, you two are sweethearts. It’s just… you know, sometimes it’s all a bit too much. And then I forget. Forget to breathe. Forget to… I don’t know… take care of myself a little.”

Eunbi watches her closely, as if trying to decipher every word, every nuance. “It’s okay, you know? If you want to cancel the podcast… Sana will understand. It’s just one episode.”

Yujin takes a deep breath and shakes her head, this time with a determined look. “Oh, no… Sana is… Sana is one of the good ones. I want to go. It’ll be fun, I just need a little… I don’t know, pep talk, maybe?” She gives a short laugh, but sadness lingers there, lurking, and her hand still trembles slightly as she sets her ice cream bowl on the coffee table.

Eunbi, however, doesn’t give up. She holds Yujin’s hand between hers, firm and warm, grounding her, and says with a soft but resolute voice, “Yujin, no matter what happens… we’re here. For anything you need, really.”

For the first time, Yujin looks at you both without any of her usual masks, and you see a glimmer of something vulnerable, almost fragile. She opens her mouth, and for a moment, you think she might say something heavy, something real. But instead, she lets out a dry, melancholy laugh.

“Look at me,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. “Here I am, getting all emotional, babbling a bunch of nonsense. God, I can be so ridiculous sometimes! But now that's enough, no more crying here! And I'm sorry about this, guys."

She gives you and Eunbi a look full of tenderness, as if she wants to capture this moment, this presence, this support that maybe, she hadn’t expected. She jokes, her voice still a bit shaky: “You know what? What if the three of us just formed a throuple, huh? A modern fairytale, all ours.”

You all laugh, the tension finally melting away. She wipes the tears from her eyes, standing up with a renewed energy. “Just kidding, of course. You two are wonderful together. If I joined this story, I’d probably just ruin the magic.” She shrugs, adjusting her borrowed robe. “Besides, I like having the bed all to myself. You know, no fighting over the blanket.”

—

Later, in the dark bedroom, you're completely out, already dreaming about absurdly nonsensical things. But Eunbi is nowhere near sleep. She’s lying there, shifting restlessly, as if waiting for you to wake up and ask what's wrong; finally, she loses patience and nudges your shoulder. Once, twice, three times, until you make some indistinct noise halfway between a snore and a "huh?"

“Are you awake, babe?” she asks, like the repeated pokes hadn’t already given her the answer.

“Now I am,” you mumble, still keeping your eyes closed. “Not like I wanted to sleep or anything.”

“Stop being silly,” she says, but her voice is soft, almost hesitant. There’s something in it that makes you crack one eye open. “I’m worried about Yujin.”

You turn to look at her, blinking in the dark to focus. “Hmm, Yujin? The same Yujin who posted stories just a few hours ago, smiling on the plane? The same Yujin who left our apartment on the phone about a sponsorship offer from a... vibrator brand?”

Eunbi sighs. “Yes, I know. But still… that doesn’t mean she’s actually okay.”

You let out a tired sigh, remembering how Yujin was—laughing, having fun, brimming with an energy that seemed unbreakable. Until, of course, she randomly started crying. “Yeah, that was… weird. But you’ve done that too, you know? I’ve seen you start crying out of nowhere sometimes.”

“That’s when I’m on my period, you dummy,” she mutters, resting a light but ‘threatening’ hand on your shoulder and giving you a gentle smack. “Totally different.”

You laugh, pulling her a little closer. “Alright, alright. But seriously, babe, Yujin’s an adult, you know? I’m sure this isn’t the first time she’s had a moment like that.”

“I know, but… should I have insisted that she rest?”

“You did more than enough,” you say softly. “She knows we were there for her. And I’m sure she’s grateful for that, you know? Just because she projects that ‘I’m indestructible’ vibe doesn’t mean she doesn’t appreciate the support. If she needs anything, she’ll text you or some other friend. She’s fine, don’t worry.”

Eunbi sighs again, but there’s a bit more ease in it this time. “Maybe you’re right…”

“Of course I am,” you say, pulling her in even closer. “And besides, we’re gonna see her again, remember? We’re gonna film more stuff together. We’ll get used to her freaking out, laughing, crying… it’s all part of the package.”

Eunbi raises an eyebrow, feigning a jealous look. “Oh, yeah? Who says we’re filming with her again? Did you like her that much?”

You chuckle, catching her playful tone. “Obviously. All for your success, babe. It’s just strategic thinking, you know?”

She laughs, giving your chest a light smack. “Alright, strategist. I'm just kidding. It was really fun, the whole… experience.”

“Good. Now, go to sleep,” you say, exhausted.

“Yes, Daddy,” she replies, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Oh, I like that,” you joke.

She rolls her eyes in the dark and replies, “Don’t even start.”

[nonranghaes]

when you and chris started dating, the two of you always thought you wouldn't be that couple who dresses alike. being friends with him beforehand meant you could probably count the numbers of time you've seen him wearing anything other than black on one hand (both hands at absolute max, but you're sure you wouldn't be using all your fingers still). but even still, there's days where the two of you accidentally end up twinning (you think he's lying to match with you, but you don't call him on it: you've done the same thing). the exception, however, has always been your birthdays. you match what he wants to wear on his, he matches you on yours: it's a cute little tradition that spawned from it accidentally happening way before you were dating.

so it's weird to his friends when you show up to his birthday party not dressed completely alike. it was his idea, even if you think it's a little mean to the friends who aren't observant, but you like his idea anyway.

and, oh, it's sweet, sweet changbin who asks you if you two are fighting. he's quiet about it, approaching you when you part from chris's side (he's busy talking to lisa and a few others). but you just slowly wave him off.

"we're perfect," you say. "he's just breaking tradition this year."

changbin opens his mouth to speak, but you catch the sight of minho and felix making a beeline toward you. you barely get to greet them before minho's grabbing your hand, holding it up to inspect the ring there.

"i fucking knew it!" felix yells across the room at a laughing chris, so completely giddy at getting one over on his friends, "i knew you two got engaged during your vacation! you jerks!"

it doesn't help that you unzip your jacket and casually fold it over your arms, revealing that the two of you are, in fact, still matching. people start yelling, and chris's eyes meet your own for a minute before he's fending off a playfully mad felix.

and he's still laughing. you think you'd marry the sound if you could... so marrying him is just as good, right?

[rafecameronssl4t]

Just a friend || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: based off season 4 ep 2 with the scene between Rafe x Hollis x Sofia

Warnings: nothing rlly

Word count: 1,308

A/n: I know I said I was on a break but just did my final exam for my law course for the year 😝 thank fuck! ALSO send thru any requests u have for the new season 🤗🤗 writing a bunch to post for when i do come back fully 💗

MASTERLIST

The evening air was warm and humid, typical of a late summer night in the Outer Banks. The Kooks had gathered at one of the island’s most luxurious estates for a party that oozed exclusivity. You were dressed in a new cheetah print set, the fabric of it hugging your body just right, making you feel confident as you walked through the crowd with your drink in hand.

Across the yard, you noticed him leaning casually against a table, his broad shoulders and clean-cut look commanding attention. But what caught your eye more was the woman standing next to him. She was older, probably in her late thirties or early forties, with a certain allure that radiated confidence.

Her blonde hair stopped below her ears, and she was smiling at Rafe in a way that made your stomach twist a little. You slowed your steps, eyes narrowing as you observed their conversation. Her hand rested on his arm, just for a moment too long. He was smiling at something she said, that charming smile that you knew all too well lighting up his face.

Jealousy began to bubble up inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you made your way over to them. The closer you got, the more clearly you could hear their conversation, though their words were light—nothing out of the ordinary. Still, the way she was looking at him didn’t sit right with you. “Hey, Rafe,” you interrupted, stepping between them, your tone casual but laced with something more.

You gave the woman a polite smile, but your focus was entirely on Rafe, waiting for him to introduce you. He glanced down at you, his eyes flickering with amusement before turning back to the woman. “Oh, this is my friend, Y/n. Y/n this is Mrs. uh... Miss Robinson. Hollis” Rafe said, barely sparing you a second glance as he introduced you with that casual tone, like your presence was nothing out of the ordinary.

Your friend. The word stung, and you fought to keep the irritation off your face, offering the woman a tight-lipped smile. She didn’t seem to notice the tension in your posture, only giving you a polite nod before turning back to Rafe. “Nice to meet you,” You say, being polite as you push down the feelings. "Pleasure is mine, Y/n," she said in a silky voice, her eyes still lingering on him.

“I hope we can stay in touch?” The woman says. “Yeah, sure” Rafe replied with a smile, his voice low and smooth. You stood there, feeling like an outsider as the two exchanged one last glance before she turned to leave, her heels clicking softly against the stone patio. Once she was gone, you turned to Rafe, eyebrows raised, not even trying to hide the edge in your voice.

“Who was that?” you asked, your finger tapping on the table as you looked up at him. Rafe took a sip of his drink, leaning back against the table with a relaxed smirk playing on his lips. “Uh Hollis Robinson. Biggest realtor on the island,” he said nonchalantly. “And, you know, the biggest cougar too.” You blinked, letting that sink in.

“Oh,” you said, your tone flat, but you couldn’t ignore the prickling feeling of jealousy creeping up your spine. You knew Rafe was teasing—he always did—but something about the way she’d looked at him, and the fact that he introduced you as just a friend, was digging under your skin. He noticed the shift in your expression immediately and that smirk only widened.

“What?” he asked, his voice dripping with amusement, “you jealous?” You let out a soft scoff, rolling your eyes at him. “Should I be, friend?” you shot back, your voice mocking as you threw his words back at him. You crossed your arms tighter, trying to hide the heat rising in your chest. Rafe chuckled, that lazy grin of his not faltering for a second. “I mean…” he started, glancing in the direction Hollis had gone, his tone teasing before he glances down at your body.

“Depends on what she’s offering.” Your eyes widened slightly in disbelief, and you instinctively reached out to shove his chest, a playful but annoyed push. He barely budged, still grinning like he found the whole situation entertaining. “You’re such an ass,” you muttered, rolling your eyes again, though this time a small smile tugged at your lips.

“I’m joking, babe, I’m joking,” Rafe laughed, grabbing your wrist gently before you could turn away from him. “Come on, you know that.” You tried to maintain your annoyed expression, but when his arms wrapped around your waist and he pulled you into him, the warmth of his body melting the last of your resistance, you let out a sigh.

“I hate you,” you mumbled against his chest, your voice muffled as you pressed your cheek to his shirt. He chuckled softly, resting his chin on top of your head as his arms held you close. “No, you don’t,” he said with that infuriating confidence, his voice soft but teasing as always. “You just hate that I get under your skin.”

You couldn’t argue with that. There was something about Rafe that always managed to push your buttons, and as much as you wanted to stay mad at him, moments like this made it impossible. His arms around you, his teasing words… It was almost like he knew exactly what you needed to hear.

You rolled your eyes one last time, but your voice was softer now. “You really are the worst, you know that?” Rafe just laughed again, his arms tightening slightly around you. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.” You didn’t respond, but the way you let yourself relax against him said enough.

Rafe’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched you, and for a second, you thought about pushing him away again. But the warmth of his embrace and that stupid grin on his face kept you rooted where you stood. "Hollis Robinson, huh? a cougar?" you muttered, looking up at him.

Rafe shrugged, clearly unfazed. "Yep. She’s been around forever. Works her charm with all the guys." You look away, biting your lip lightly, "Well, did she?" You lock eyes with him as he furrows his eyebrows lightly. "Did what?" He questions with a hint of confusion in his tone.

You trail your hands up his chest, stopping at his neck, Rafe's eyes followed. "Y'know... Work her charm on you." Rafe smirked, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't turned on right now. "Dunno, guess so," He teased, his voice low and playful. You scoffed, shoving his chest harder this time, though he barely flinched.

"Jerk," you snapped, the annoyance now mixing with a hint of amusement you couldn’t fully suppress. Rafe laughed, catching your wrist in his hand again, but this time he held on tighter, pulling you closer with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Relax, baby. She's like the same age as Rose and that's fucking weird."

The sincerity in his voice, however playful, made your frustration melt away just a little. His arms snaked around your waist once more, pulling you back into the warmth of his chest. "I’m not that easy to replace," you muttered, still annoyed but leaning into him slightly. "No one’s saying you are," Rafe chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Now, come on, admit it—you hate it when I mess with you, but you love me." You let out a sigh, a small smile creeping back onto your face despite your best efforts. "You’re impossible," you mumbled against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. He squeezed you a little tighter, his breath warm against your hair. "Yeah, but you wouldn’t want me any other way."

[sailorrhansol]

Amnesia | c.sc (m)

❀ Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x f. reader

❀ Summary: Choi Seungcheol has never been the type to commit to relationships - casual is more his thing. You’re fine with that - except you and Seungcheol seem to be terrible at casual when it comes to one another. 

❀ Word Count: 11,920

❀ Genre: Friends with benefits to lovers 

❀ Type: Smut, Angst if you squint 

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Recreational drinking, mild jealousy from both reader and Cheol, themes of self doubt/relationship doubt, light depictions of anxiety regarding ambiguous relationships, explicit language, Cheol and reader are both idiots, explicit sexual content including oral (f. and m. receiving), vaginal fingering, nipple stim, breath play if you squint, unprotected vaginal sex, a lot of bodily fluids like spit and cum, multiple smut scenes, hair pulling, light spanking, sub-space adjacent feelings, being a lil silly goofy during sex sometimes, stupid ass nicknames at the end because I’m a millennial and I’m cringe sometimes. 

❀ A/N: This was absolutely not what I originally imagined when I wrote this fic - it was supposed to be angsty and frustrating and a lot of back and forth and instead I wrote two fucking idiots who obviously like one another just being down bad. I don’t know how or why I got here, but here we are. Also - Jeongcheol coming out with billiards content after I posted the teaser for this is fucking sENDING me, thank you for making Pool Shark Seungcheol canon. 

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

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DAY ONE

You’re a goner as soon as you lay eyes on him. You know it before Jeonghan properly introduces you, shouting over the rock music that is blaring in the dive bar you like to hang out at on Friday nights. The neon from the sign creates a blue silhouette around Seungcheol as he smiles and holds a hand out to you. You can barely pull yourself together to shake his hand - warm, firm - too busy staring at his face. 

Choi Seungcheol is what your best friend Vin likes to call pretty motherfuckin handsome. He’s got dark, warm eyes that light up playfully when they meet yours, full lips the color of crushed rose petals, a square, firm jawline and silky dark hair that falls in his eyes when he tilts his face down to hide a smile at something Jeonghan says. 

Crushed against the wall of the booth, you feel the cold glass of your beer warm against your palms as you steal glances at Seungcheol. He’s directly across from you, angling his broad shoulders to fit snug into the corner of the booth, lounging backward as he observes the argument brewing between Joshua and Jeonghan. 

He even dresses well. Fitted t-shirt paired with light wash jeans and boots, a fancy watch reflecting the burning neon on the wall next to him, delicate chain necklaces tucked into the collar of his shirt. 

It’s the way he wears them that speaks to you, though. 

“Do they do this often?” his deep voice drags you from your reverie. You blink, gathering yourself when you realize he’s leaning forward a little, addressing you. He sips his beer before tilting the tip of the bottle toward Jeonghan and Joshua. “It’s like they're married.”

“You have no idea. Wait until game night.” 

“Oh yeah. Jeonghan told me about game night.” Seungcheol’s mouth twitches in a smile. “You’ll be there?” 

“Every Sunday. Do you like games?” 

Something about the glint in his eye makes your stomach flip. You sip your beer just to give you something to do, feeling more drunk off the easy confidence he exudes as he shrugs. “Depends on the game. I’m competitive.” 

“So am I.”

He grins. “I look forward to it, then.” 

Warming up to Seungcheol is easy. He’s the new hire at Jeonghan and Wonwoo’s office, and they both felt confident enough to bring him into the fold. You can see why - he’s kind and funny, and there’s a charm to him that draws the people around him like moths to a flame. Even with just the four of you sitting in the booth, you feel the magnetism. 

Friday nights at Rusty’s has been a tradition with Jeonghan and Joshua since you had been in college, filling yourself on five dollar wings, three dollar beers and occasionally lukewarm mozzarella sticks. Normally Vin, Wonwoo and Mingyu would be around, but tonight it’s just the smaller group. 

Jeonghan and Joshua slide out of the booth to play darts, shoving one another back and forth, the drink in their step making them a little off balance. You smile fondly as you pluck another beer out of the bucket of ice, struggling to pop the top, your wet hands sliding against the metal cap. 

Wordlessly, Seungcheol holds his hand out. Flushing from the neck down, you hand it over to him with a silent thank you. He pops the top easily, bicep flexing for a moment before he passes it back over, shooting you an award winning grin. 

“Wow, so strong.”

He pouts and you swear you see stars. “Hey, I am strong.” 

“No, no, you are. Thank you.” 

“You shouldn’t tease me. I’m new.” 

“Huh.” You sip your beer, letting the cool liquid slide down your throat. It does nothing to soothe the heat spreading over your skin under the sole attention of Seungcheol. “I don’t remember that being a rule.” 

“I never was one to play by the rules anyway.” 

“Oh, so you’re saying you cheat at games like Jeonghan does.” 

“I like winning.”

You roll your eyes. From the edge of your vision, you see people leave the pool table. Eager to stand up and stretch your legs, you start to slide out of the booth, the wood grain scratching against your jeans as you do. 

“Come on then, cheater. Let’s play pool.” 

“I’m down.” 

Seungcheol follows you. Your fingers grip the glass of your drink tight, knuckles straining. You move around tables and duck around other patrons, hyper aware of the way Seungcheol keeps close to you, the heat of him against your back. 

Next to the rows of dart boards are two pool tables, the felt a faded green with beer stains and other mysterious smudges on the surface. You grab a cue from the rack on the wall, spin it in your hands, and hand it over to Seungcheol. He eyes it, running his fingers along the splintered and dented wood.

Grabbing your cue in one hand and the triangle rack and set it on the table while he collects the balls from the table and the pockets, rolling them over to you. A few feet away, Joshua is already accusing Jeonghan of cheating. You don’t know how you cheat in darts, but you do know if there is a will, Jeonghan will find a way.

“Dangerous to let them have sharp objects,” Seungcheol notes, sliding the last ball over to you. You huff out a laugh, rolling the rack of billiard balls back and forth to set them. “You’re not going to get violent with me, right?”

“I don’t know, are you going to cheat?”

His smile is wicked. “Me? Definitely not.” 

“Hmm. Not convincing.”

Seungcheol presses the flat of his palm over his chest, drawing your eyes to how thick he is in the chest area. You swallow thickly as he says, “Cross my heart.” 

“Whatever you say. What are we playing for?” 

“What will you give me?” 

You look up at the shift in his tone. Dark. Flirty. He leans against the pool table, resting his hip casually as he crosses his arms over his chest. You ignore the way his arms flex, totally focused on the way his eyes are only for you. Intent. Meaningful. 

A warning goes off in your head. You already feel the pull to him, the innate attraction that has your heart hammering. You should brush off the flirtation, move on to other things. Relationships aren’t really your thing, but there’s something about him that makes you know you’ll want more. 

You already do want more. 

“What do you want?” you ask softly, ignoring your better judgment. 

When Seungcheol smiles, you know you’d give him anything. Everything.

“I can think of something, I think.”

-

DAY SEVEN

“I like this,” Seungcheol says, voice rough from use. He buttons his jeans, looking over at you. You’re still half-alive on your bed, a sheen of sweat covering your body. The sheets stick to you when you roll to look at him. “Are you good with casual?”

You’re only half listening, too distracted by his flexing abs. “Hmm?”

Seungcheol looks good tonight. He looks good every night, but tonight he’s in dark jeans and a white sweater. The sweater looks soft like his hair, which has grown longer and hangs in his eyes as he looks down to slip on his shoes. 

“I’m not really looking for a relationship at the moment but this,” he answers, flicking his fingers between the two of you. “It’s good.” 

“Agreed. I’m good with casual. I’m a little too busy for anything more.” 

It’s not a lie. You are too busy to really commit to someone. Again, a warning goes off in your mind like that first night you met him, screaming danger. You ignore it, not ready to give up Seungcheol just yet. 

He grins, pulling his short back over his head. “Cool. If you ever don’t want to or whatever though, let me know, yeah?”

“You too.” 

-

DAY TEN 

Seungcheol [2:06 AM]: Come home with me You [2:06 AM]: Everyone would notice Seungcheol [2:07 AM]: Tell them where you’re going who caaaares Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: Unless you don’t want to tell them then that’s ok Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: I personally don’t care if they know I’m rearranging your guts most nights :)  You [2:10 AM]: CHEOL You [2:10 AM]: Fine pls hold my hand while I do this. They’re going to roast me Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: Holding your hand sooo tight Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: But from like over here tho  You [2:19 AM]: That was so embarrassing. Where did you go Seungcheol [2:19 AM]: She’s so brave, she’s well behaved Seungcheol [2:19 AM]: Standing outside hurry it's cold as dick out here

Seungcheol [4:38 AM]: Don’t forget to text me when you make it home  You [4:52 AM]: Home safe!  

-

DAY TWENTY THREE

You [11:10 PM]: Wyd Seungcheol [11:34 PM]: Need it that bad? You [11:39 PM]: Wow goodnight!!!!! Seungcheol [11:39 PM]: Nah come back Seungcheol [11:43 PM]: COME BACK Seungcheol [11:43 PM]: Omw. Unlock the door You [11:45 PM]: Need it that bad?  Seungcheol [11:45 PM]: Yes actually :) 

-

DAY THIRTY

You slide your finger across the phone, curious as you pick up Seungcheol’s phone call. “Hello?”

“Are you hungry?” 

You look at your watch. It’s almost one in the afternoon, your stomach growling as it realizes that yeah you are kind of hungry. “Actually yeah. Why?” 

“I had to run errands and I’m by your place and starving. Wanna get lunch?” 

Your lips twitch in a smile. Leaning against the counter, you press the phone against you a little closer. “Sure, what did you have in mind?” 

“Do you like Greek?” You hum in assent, chewing on your fingernail nervously. You can hear him get into his car, pausing momentarily as he starts it and curses at how hot it is. You can’t help but laugh. “Alright, pick you up in ten?”

“Alright.” 

-

DAY FORTY THREE

He’s not yours. You tell yourself that over and over again as you try not to look across the bar where Seungcheol is sitting for the nth time. You’d noticed him immediately when you and Vin walked in, clocking his wide frame and familiar laugh with a precision that makes you curse yourself.

Now, Seungcheol is leaning against a high top, talking to a pretty girl sitting on a stool next to him. He’d waved at you earlier and shot you a smile and a wink, but he’s with friends you’re unfamiliar with tonight, and hasn’t come over.

Not that you expect him to. He isn’t yours and the casual thing you’ve got going means he can do whatever he wants, no strings attached.

So why is your heart in your throat as you glance over to see the girl laughing at something he’s said? They’re not alone but somehow that isn’t comforting at all. You pick at the varnish on the table to distract yourself, suddenly interested in the splinters and not the man across the bar from you.

Finishing the rest of your beer, you pull out another, hoping that the hoppy taste erases the icky feeling that settles on your skin. You’re not participating in conversation much, but if your friends notice, they have the decency not to call you out. 

At least Vin knows what’s up, checking on you every once in a while. Thankfully she doesn’t say anything, occasionally giving you a squeeze instead. She knows the deal, understanding the irrationality between wanting to control something that isn’t yours to control. 

Halfway through your beer, your phone vibrates. You flip it over and your heart starts pounding when you see Seungcheol’s name come across the screen, a message waiting to be read. With a shaky hand, you slide your thumb across the screen to unlock it, the message popping up.

Seungcheol [12:13 AM]: Wanna come back to mine? 

Surprised, you look up from your phone to where he’s still at the high top. His phone is in his hands and he’s looking right at you, flashing a grin when you meet his eyes. The girl is still sitting next to him, but his attention is entirely on you now, pinning you to the spot. 

Your phone vibrates again and you glance down, your phone’s brightness stark in the gloom of the bar. 

Seungcheol [12:13 AM]: You’re cute when you’re surprised You [12:14 AM]: What, the girl you were talking to said no? Seungcheol [12:14 AM]: I didn’t ask her. I asked you Seungcheol [12:14 AM]: Omg wait are you jealous?? You [12:14 AM]: No You [12:14 AM]: Definitely not  Seungcheol [12:17 AM]: Hateful to me is Hades for a liar or whatever You [12:17 AM]: Hateful to me as the gates of Hades is that man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another, loser Seungcheol [12:18 AM]: Same thing Seungcheol [12:18 AM]: But seriously, I have no interest in her. I’m asking YOU Seungcheol [12:18 AM]: Will beg from my knees in this bar Seungcheol [12:19 AM]: Even tho the floor is kind of gross You [12:20 AM]: I mean, if you’re offering to get on your knees… 

You’re not sure if you trust his answer about not being interested in the other girl, but it doesn’t matter. You still end up leaning against him in an Uber, his hand squeezing your thigh playfully as he leans his forehead on the window, eyes closed to enjoy the cool glass. 

He is so handsome, face glowing red as the car stops at a stoplight. You examine him closely, eyes dragging from the soft curve of his mouth to his impossibly silk lashes. You’d told him once that most girls would kill for those lashes, and now he likes to bat them at you every time he wants something. 

The car starts moving and you look away from him, taking in a deep breath. Seungcheol isn’t yours, but you’re starting to think you want him to be. 

DAY FIFTY TWO

“Is it weird if I bring a bag of shit to stay?” Seungcheol’s voice is shy over the receiver. You grip your phone tighter, biting your bottom lip to hide your smile as you roll onto your side in bed, snuggling into the pillow more. It smells like him, bergamot and cedarwood. “You can tell me if that’s weird.”

“Not weird at all,” you say carefully, too nervous to scare him off. “You usually end up sleeping here anyway.” 

Usually really means always. He’s been doing that more recently, crashing at your apartment after coming over and vice versa. You’ve gone from Uber rides home at dawn to waking up curled into his back. He’s the first person you’ve ever let loiter in your space as much as he has, but you try not to think about it too much, as though just the acknowledgement might spook him.

Whatever thing between you feels fragile, a rare, glass menagerie set that can shatter if handled wrong. Friends with benefits is what you call it, but you’re not quite sure if that’s what it is.

“Okay cool. Waking up at the ass crack of dawn to go back to my place and shower sucks.” 

“I do have a shower.”

“Oh I’m aware. It’s one of my favorite places in your apartment.” 

Your stomach flutters and you clench your thighs together. Looking at the clock on your nightstand, you realize it’s getting late. “Better hurry,” you murmur. “I might be too tired for a shower when you get here.” 

His chuckle is deep. Throaty. “I’ll speed, then.” 

After hanging up, you toss your phone to the end of your bed and stare at the ceiling. Outside, the city hums beyond the window of your apartment. The lights in your home are mostly turned off, a single lamp providing low light in the living room so Seungcheol can see when he comes in, and a flickering candle on your nightstand and in the bathroom. 

Your bed is warm and you do feel sleepy, but the excitement of seeing Seungcheol keeps you awake well enough. You try not to think of that too much, either. He was just there a few nights prior, and already he’s on his way back. Like it’s common. Routine. 

And it sort of is, you guess. You hangout with Seungcheol almost more than you see Vin and Jeonghan these days, and you’re almost always spending the night together. You know his favorite late night snacks, you know the type of coffee he likes to make in the morning before work, and you know about his family, his stresses at work. What makes him tick. 

It’s more than you ever thought you’d know about him when you agreed to keep your sex life with him casual and at a distance. He is anything but at a distance. 

Seungcheol must speed, because it feels like hardly any time has passed when you hear your apartment door open and shut, the sound of the deadbolt clicking. You lift yourself up to lean on your elbows, watching from your bed as he enters your line of vision, a backpack over one shoulder. 

He’s dressed in a long t-shirt and sweats, cozy and warm and still unbelievably good looking. He grins when he sees you, eyes creasing at the corners as he enters your room and drops his bag by your door. 

Without saying anything, Seungcheol crawls onto your bed, the mattress sinking under his weight as he inches up over you. Falling backward onto the mattress, you let him loom over you. Heat radiates from his body, warming you up. Your heart thuds as he ducks down, his hands bracketing your head as he cages you in. He brushes his nose against yours and you feel sparks, trying to regulate your breathing. 

“Hi,” he whispers. 

“Hi,” you whisper back, reaching your hands up to rest on his hips. He reacts, pressing his waist into yours a little, making you bear his weight. “Ugh, heavy.” 

“Too bad.” 

Seungcheol’s teeth nip your jaw, making your hips twitch upward. You can feel the smirk against your skin as he presses a wet kiss under your ear, moving his way to your neck. 

“I was promised a shower.”

“Maybe I’m too tired,” You murmur.

He hums, leaning more of his weight into you. It’s comforting, not crushing, and you can feel the way his heart is beating wildly in his chest, in tune with yours. You smell bergamot and cedarwood, making your thoughts dizzy and scattered while he whispers, “I’ll wash your hair.” 

“Hmmm. I’m listening.” 

He presses a wet kiss to your pulse point, tongue laving against your skin. Your fingers twist in his shirt, your muscles tensing as you fight off a shiver. You can hear his soft breath, the way the sheets shift under the two of you, the way your heart hammers.  

“I’ll massage your shoulders…” 

“Hmm.” 

His teeth scrape against your throat and you sigh, arching up into him, eyes closed. “I’ll eat you out.” 

Fuck. You’re putty in his hands. Seungcheol could get you to do anything he asked. You don’t know if he knows - you’re too afraid to show him, to let him in on the secret out of fear of what it would mean to him. If it was too much, too deep.

But like this, it’s hard not to hide it. Especially when his filthy mouth hits a weak point in you, turning you thoughtless as you nod your head in response, nails digging into his hip bones through the fabric of his shirt. He makes a noise in response, leaning up off of you reluctantly but pulling you with him. 

Dropping his hands, you head to the bathroom, feeling uneven. Seungcheol whines and grabs you to pull you back toward him. He wraps his arms around you, squeezing tightly. 

“You haven’t even given me a kiss,” he pouts, looking down at you through long, dark lashes. “I want a kiss.” 

This is the problem with Seungcheol. He says things like this when you’re supposed to be casual, something easy and without feelings and without strings. But this feels like something, it feels like there's a thread connecting you, tugging your mouth to his because of course you indulge him.

You always do. 

Seungcheol’s lips are soft and taste faintly of his cherry chapstick. You smile into the kiss, standing on your tiptoes to press closer to him. He kisses you back eagerly, slotting his lips against yours and humming with delight. When you pull away, he’s smug, grinning happily. 

“Come on,” he urges, now leading the charge as he pulls you by the hand toward your bathroom. 

Instead of turning on the light, Seungcheol uses the glow of the burning candle on the counter to navigate. He drops your hand to open up the cabinets and pulls out two towels as you trail to the shower, opening the glass door to lean in and turn it on. 

Steam starts to fill the room as you close the shower door and turn to him. He sets the towels on the counter, not bothering to shut the door to the bedroom. Instead, he grips the bottom of his shirt and peels it upward and over his head, revealing all toned muscle and tan skin. 

He momentarily distracts you. Seungcheol is a work of art, equal parts rippling muscle and soft skin. You slide your shorts down, distracted by the way he looks in the golden shroud of the candle light, sliding his sweatpants down his legs. 

Sensing your eyes, he lifts his head as he kicks off his sweats, briefs slung low on his hips. “Admiring me?” 

“Shut up.” 

Looking away, you take off your shirt, feeling the heat flush from your cheeks down to your neck. He chuckles, peeling off his briefs before kicking them toward the sink and striding toward the shower. He stops to kiss you on the cheek as he pulls open the door. 

“I don’t mind,” he teases. “I like it.” 

It’s true. Seungcheol has always had the easy confidence of someone who is comfortable in their skin. You admire that about him - and envy him a little. Seungcheol never seems to worry what others think of him, nor does he seem embarrassed or concerned about making the wrong move. Saying the wrong thing. 

Steam hits you full on as you step into the shower. Seungcheol is already standing under the spray of water, his back turned toward you. For a moment you admire him again, watching the way the water sluices down his broad back and narrow waist. 

Your eyes drift to the tattoo at his neck, the branches of the tree stretching toward his shoulders. You’ve traced that tree with the tips of your fingers and tongue over and over again, fascinated about the way the ink flexes when he moves. 

A chill catches you, making you shiver and step toward the heat of the water. He senses your approach, turning his head to the side to look at you over his shoulder. He grins, reaching a hand back toward you to pull you close. You lace your fingers, letting him pull you into him as he turns. 

Hot water hits your skin, immediately soothing. You sigh, leaning into the firmness of him, Seungcheol’s arms wrapping around you. He catches your mouth again, your eyes fluttering shut as he kisses you slowly, tongue lazy as he licks into your mouth. 

Seungcheol’s hands spread across your back, fingers digging in a little as he starts to explore, one hand surging up and the other down. You moan into his mouth as the hand that drifts down grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing a little. His mouth curves into the kiss and you feel his teeth pull at your bottom lip, something he knows you love.

As always, you’re a goner. You don’t stand a chance with him. Not that first night and not now when he kisses you like something more. Not when he slides his hand around to your front, pressed between your bodies to run his fingers up the wet folds of your pussy. 

He groans into the kiss that has turned sloppy, hungry. “Fucking wet.”

“We’re in the shower.” 

He growls and pulls his mouth from you to attach to your neck, biting and sucking harshly. You let out a breathy sound, head tilting back heavily as you feel his tongue lick the water from your skin. “Don’t take away my credit.” 

“The only crime is pride.”

The pads of his fingers press into your clit, making your knees knock together and the breath leave your lungs. He smiles against your neck, humming. “Which classic are you quoting at me today?” 

“Antigone by Sophocles.” 

“What’s that one about?” 

Finding words is nearly impossible. The heat of the shower has you flushed and distracted, the steam making it harder to breathe, thoughts sticky as Seungcheol continues to tease you, fingers dragging down to your clenching entrance to press his fingers in slightly before dragging them back up.

Your nails bite into the back of his neck, clinging to him for life as he holds you up, one arm looped around your back to press you to him while the other makes all your thoughts scattered. 

“Come on,” he urges gently, bringing his face to yours. He brushes his nose against yours, nudging. “Tell me.” 

“She was a tragic character in a play written by Sophocles,” you sigh. “She was the daughter of Oedipus.” 

“The guy who fucked his mom?”

Your laughter bubbles out of you. He laughs too, his hold tightening. “Yeah, Cheol. The guy who fucked his mom.”

“Craaazy family.” 

“Do you really want to talk about Greek tragedy incest right now?”

“Nope,” he says happily. “I do want to eat this pussy though.” 

Seungcheol flips gears so quickly that it’s hard to keep up. He swings you toward the glass wall of the shower, pressing your chest against it. You moan loudly, startled by the cool glass against your hard nipples. The contrast of hot water and the cool glass feels good, your eyes fluttering shut as Seungcheol drops to his knees behind you. He gently presses the inside of your knees, urging you to spread your legs. 

“Just like that,” he encourages, hands ghosting upward to squeeze your ass. He pulls your hips away from the glass and toward him, groaning as he comes face level to your cunt. “Fuck.”

Your breath fogs the glass. It’s cold when you press your palms against it, holding yourself up as Seungcheol dips forward, running the flat of his tongue down your slit. You let out a pathetic sound and he laughs, fingers squeezing your flesh. 

Everything feels like an exposed nerve. You melt, knees shaking and unsteady as Seungcheols tongue leisurely explores your folds, dipping into your entrance before dragging up to circle your clit. 

One of your hands leaves the glass to reach back, sinking into the wet strands of his hair and holding him to you. He grunts in pleasure, the buzz of his mouth adding to the simulation as he fastens his lips to you, sucking gently. 

Seungcheol’s mouth is a weapon. You fall apart under the warmth of his lips, the softness of his tongue. He sucks at your core, greedy and pleased, fingers digging into you as he presses in further. He can never get enough, the wet sounds of his hunger making your toes curl.

“Feels so good,” you pant against the glass. Your nails scrape against his scalp and he moans loudly, muffled by your cunt. “Your fucking mouth.” 

“Mmm. Love you like this.” His tongue flicks expertly across your clit and you feel your thighs clench, legs shaking as your orgasm spools inside of you. “God this shower hurts my fucking knees though.”

“You wanted to eat me out in the shower.”

A hand cracks across your ass cheek, making you arch against the glass. He chuckles, tongue diving back, words slurred as he mutters, “And I’d do it again.”

Seungcheol’s mouth feels divine. You go quiet as he sucks at you, focused on the warmth spreading through you and the way your breath starts to stutter, limbs locking up. 

When you come, you go boneless. Seungcheol holds you up, pressing you against the glass as he licks you through your orgasm. You twitch against him, nails dragging in his hair, your other hand sliding against the glass as you fight to grip anything to ground you.

Breathing raggedly, you sag when he pulls his face from you and stands. He groans and you grin, knowing his knees hurt from the tile of the shower. He doesn’t care, though. He crowds you in, cock pressed against your backside as his arms loop around you. 

“Kiss me.” His voice is soft, needy. 

Turning your face over your shoulder, you let him catch his mouth with yours, all tongue and cum and spit. You don’t care, pushing into him. One of his hands slides down between your legs, making you whimper into his mouth as he slides his fingers through your sticky folds to press two of them into your entrance. 

Seungcheol is a giver. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve slept together or had brief, fast encounters, he always makes it a point to please you. To go out of his way to make you shake against him, like he needs it. 

He keeps your mouth melded to his as his fingers fuck you slowly. You clench around his fingers, moaning his name as he presses them against the soft spot inside of you. You see stars, panting into his mouth as he strings you along, dragging you toward another orgasm. 

It’s slow. Intimate. His mouth is hot and wet, sucking at biting at your bottom lip. His other hand snakes up to your throat, not applying pressure but gripping you, holding you to him. If he didn’t have you so tightly pressed to the glass, you think you’d collapse.

“You won’t fall,” he breathes into your mouth, reading your mind. “I’ve got you.”

“My knees are fucking useless right now.”

“You’re tough. Come on, I know you can give me more.” 

You’ll give him anything he asks. You feel your heart slamming in your chest as he works you up again, feel the ragged breathing until you momentarily stop, everything tense and suspended as you clench around his fingers, shuddering violently as you come. 

“Knew it,” he murmurs. “Good girl.”

A whine leaves you at the praise, head shaking back and forth a little as the oversensitivity makes you squirm. He works you through it, mouth pressed to your ear, whispering to breathe, baby as he strokes you gently until you’re leaning against him heavily. 

Seungcheol removes his hand but keeps holding you up, letting you catch your breath. He peppers innocent kisses along your shoulder, lips brushing your skin tenderly. When you stand up with more strength, he pats you on the hip, gentle.

“Good?”

“Mhmm.” Craning over your shoulder, you catch his chin with your mouth, kissing softly. You press your ass into him, feeling his straining cock. “Come on.” 

“Yeah?”

“All good.”

“Thank fuck. Thought I lost you.”

“I’ve had worse,” you grin, a little tired.

He kisses you, patting you approvingly before he grinds the tip of his cock between your legs. He groans deep in his chest, grip on you tightening for a moment. You reach behind you, gripping the base of his cock firmly, stroking gently before lining him up with your entrance. 

Seungcheol pushes in, both of you whining in harmony at the feeling. It feels good, your pussy throbbing around him as he presses in slowly, letting you feel the stretch. He clings to you, trying to keep it together as you flutter around him. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, more to himself than you. “Shit.” 

Gently, Seungcheol starts to fuck you against the glass, strokes deep and slow. It’s mind-numbingly good, your cheek cool and pressed against the shower wall, Seungcheol’s face buried in your neck, breath puffing against your skin. 

He holds you reverently, both hands on your hips to keep you where he wants you. You reach one hand behind your head, holding the back of his neck, nails digging into his skin. He hums happily, always pleased when you bite and scratch him.

That had been a surprise. You always thought he wouldn’t want you to mark him, that he wouldn’t want evidence of your time spent together. Seungcheol is the opposite though, urging you to rake your nails across soft skin, to bite at him and bruise him. 

Your feet slide apart a little as he strengthens his thrusts. You squeal, hand smacking the glass to hold yourself up. He lets out a loud laugh, pausing to let you fix your stance. He taps your thigh in question and you nod, lifting your leg a little to let him slide a hand under your thigh to press it against the shower wall for better grip.

When he rolls his hips into you this time, it’s deeper, making you tremble against the glass. A groan drips from Seungcheol’s mouth as he sets his pace, pinning you between him and the glass with nothing to do but to take what he gives you. 

“Can you do another?” he asks, breath shaky. His fingers squeeze your thigh for emphasis, the snap of his hips getting stronger. You nod, unable to answer verbally. He huffs, half laughter, half something else. “Yeah you can.” 

And you can. Seungcheol can pull pleasure out of you like thread from a loom, his skilled hands guiding you where he wants you to go. It’s easy for him, the way he knows your body so acute and familiar that the thought alone makes you unravel a little, your whines muted by the glass. 

He makes you come like that, stuck between his warmth and the cold, the two contrasts keeping you suspended as you seize up around him. He grunts at the feeling, hips sloppy, losing their rhythm until he clenches up, growling your name into your neck as he tips over the edge after you. 

For a few moments, you remain melded together, panting in time. Seungcheol makes no rush of peeling himself away from you. Instead, he’s content to mouth at your shoulder and neck, running his nose along your throat. You squirm and laugh, ticklish. 

Grinning, he does it again, nuzzling into you and making you laugh, sound echoing in the shower. “Seungcheol!”

“It’s cute.” 

“Come on,” you urge. “You said you’d wash my hair.” 

He steals a kiss. “Alright, alright. Pass me the shampoo.” 

-

DAY FIFTY SEVEN

“Who is that?” Seungcheol asks, jerking his head toward the bar. You turn and follow his gaze to see Seokmin standing at the bar, ordering drinks. “Never seen him before.”

“Jealous?” You tease, leaning forward and batting your eyelashes at him. Seokmin is just a coworker, but it doesn’t mean you can’t poke Seungcheol a little. Except Seungcheol doesn’t laugh, leveling you with a stare, lips turning downward. “Wait, you actually are.”

“Don’t push it. It was just a question.”

“We work together,” you clarify, immediately turning off the charm when you recognize he’s not amused. “Actually I think he sort of has a thing for Vin, which is why he’s here.” 

Seungcheol hums, sipping his beer and looking away from you. Licking your lips, you reach out a hand and touch his gently, bringing his dark eyes back to you. He looks serious - more serious than you’ve ever seen him, face blank, eyes unreadable. 

“I mean it.” You squeeze his hand, trying to comfort him. “We’re just friends.” 

“Alright.” 

“I feel like you’re mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?” 

You shrug, struggling to articulate. He still has that expression you can’t read, something stark and closed off. “Just seems like it.” 

He shakes his head again, but you don’t think he’s telling the truth, watching the way his eyes shift to watch Seokmin approach. “Just tired, I think I might head out.” 

Panic grips you and you say the first thing you can think of, throwing caution to the wind. “Want to come over?” 

That gives him pause. He studies you. You feel a tightness in your throat under his scrutiny. His mouth twitches and he nods. “Alright,” he says softly. “If you want me to.”

“I do.” You squeeze his hand again. “Really.”

-

DAY SEVENTY EIGHT

“Want to do me a huge favor?” 

You look up from your spot on your couch. Seungcheol is in your kitchen, using his hip to close the door to the fridge. He lifts the lid on the package of grapes, plastic cracking loudly as he does. Leaning against the counter, he pops one into his mouth, crunching happily. 

“Besides giving you my grapes?” you ask, deadpan. He grins around them shrugging happily as he eats another. You roll your eyes, turning back to the laptop carefully balanced on your knee. “What’s the favor?” 

“We have this giant New Years Eve party at work in two weeks and I need a date.”

That gives you pause. You stare at the computer screen but you can’t make out anything on the screen. You don’t dare to turn and look at Seungcheol, fearful that the feelings his question brings out will be right on the surface of your expression.

Date. It’s a scary word. You and Seungcheol sort of go on dates all the time, but they’re not really dates. At least, not from your perspective. If you were to ask Jeonghan, he would launch into another lecture that you should just put a goddamn title on this thing. Vin happily agrees, both of them hammering you on calling the thing between you and Seuncheol what it is.

But it’s friends with benefits. Friends go out to eat meals together and go shopping together - they hangout. The benefits are the sex. It’s the pressing you against your mattress as he maps your body with his mouth, it’s the way you sink to your knees for him after he’s had a bad day at work, taking him into the heat of your mouth to make him forget. 

So yes, you’ve gone places together alone and as a friend date. But somehow this feels different, and you don’t think it’s supposed to. 

Carefully, you ask, “Your date, huh?”

“Mhmm. Free drinks and apps, and it’s at the top of that fancy new hotel. We can stay the night so we don’t have to pay for an expensive as fuck Uber” 

Not for the first time, you find yourself unsure where the line is with Seungcheol. You’ve agreed multiple times that this is just casual, a shared benefit between friends. And yet every time you feel confident in what you are, the line blurs. 

You’re as guilty as he is, you know. On more than one occasion you’re the one who has crossed the line, messing up the clear boundary the two of you have had in place for weeks. Somehow, you both manage to be utterly terrible at casual, but you’re too afraid to say something about it. Too afraid to ruin it. 

“I suppose I can be convinced.” 

“Oh? What can I do to convince you?” 

You look up as his tone turns to velvet, that voice he uses when he’s coaxing you into his lap, or when he’s- 

“It’s really hard to be sexy when there’s grape juice running down your chin, Cheol.” 

He pouts, grabbing a paper towel to wipe the lower half of his face as you laugh. He’s cute, pink lips downturned and eyes round as he sulks. “Don’t make fun of me. Just say yes to being my date.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go.” 

His grin is burnished gold, the sun breaking for first light over the horizon. “Thank you.” 

“Mhmm.” He crunches into another grape and you scowl. “Stop eating all my fucking grapes!” 

-

DAY NINETY TWO

“Holy shit,” Seungcheol mutters when you step out of the hotel bedroom. He feels his heart start to pound in his chest from where he stands in the kitchenette, fingers squeezing the glass of whiskey he poured himself earlier. “You look unreal.”

And you do. You always do. It was one of the first things he noticed about you when Jeonghan and Joshua introduced the two of you that first night at that shitty bar you like to go to on Fridays. The real kicker had been your personality, though. Warm, kind, quick wit. A bit of a history nerd, which is his favorite thing. 

Honestly, he loves a lot of things about you. He knows that he has to do something about that. Knows that this stopped being casual a long time ago. Seungcheol has no problem with casual hookups and keeping people in a rotation, but when it comes to you… he just wants you. 

It’s like he has no idea how to keep his distance, how to keep his feelings out of it. He doesn’t mind, but he needs to figure out how to tell you. How to take that next step and move you from friends to more - if that’s what you want, anyway. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you say back neutrally. He can see the way your eyes linger on him though, your gaze betraying the calmness of your voice, as always.

You don’t get it, though. Seungcheol cannot keep his eyes off you, dragging them from top to bottom. The black dress is snug on your frame, his eyes tracing the swells of your breasts, the dip of your hips, the curve of your ass and thighs. 

Dragging his eyes back up, he meets your gaze. That is one of his favorite things. Your eyes, full of light and depth and thoughts that he always wants to fall into. There is so much simmering under the surface that you don’t say and he’s never asked.

He wants to. 

Knocking back the rest of his drink, Seungcheol leaves the glass on the counter and walks over to you. You shift from foot to foot, eyes darting up to examine the ceiling. He smirks, feeling the nerves radiating from you as he approaches. 

When he reaches out, you don’t step away from him. You let him skim his hands up your sides, going until he’s running them over your shoulders and on either side of your neck so he can cradle your face. He turns your gaze back to him and you stare up at him through your lashes. 

He was a goner on day one. How ridiculous to think he’s not just made this real, told you how he doesn’t want a single thing to be casual and superficial between you. 

Instead of stealing a searing kiss and pushing you back into the bedroom like he wants to, Seungcheol presses a short kiss to the corner of your mouth. He’s too afraid that if he starts something that you won’t make it downstairs. 

Now isn’t the time for that, though. There’s a party upstairs and free drinks and he wants to spend time with his friends. Spend time with you.

The Seungcheol that existed before you is a stranger to him. He barely remembers what it was like to have people he wasn’t genuinely interested in, what it was like to show up alone at parties and take someone home. Hardly recalls pushing people away when they wanted too much. 

All it took was meeting you.

“Come on,” he urges gently, leading you from the room and to the elevator. 

Seungcheol slides his phone from his pocket in the elevator. You press close against him, your arm brushing against his as it fills up with people. He notes where Wonwoo tells him to meet and puts his phone back in his pocket, leaning into you a little.

You let him, making his mouth twitch upward. You always let him do what he wants, and when you don’t, an easy pout gets his way. He’s wrapped around your finger, too. He doesn’t know if you realize it, but he would give you anything you wanted without a moment's hesitation. 

When the elevator doors open, Seungcheol takes your hand. You let him pull you into the party teeming with people, the sound of music swelling over the dull roar of the crowd. You stick closer to him, fingers squeezing him tightly as the pair of you walk toward the check-in table. 

“This is beautiful,” you murmur to him. 

His first instinct is to look at you because you are beautiful. You’re not looking at him, your neck craned to sweep over the party. He smiles at you, watching the glow of your side profile, eyes wide with wonder.

Dragging his eyes from your face, he glances around the party. It is gorgeous, with views of the entire city glittering beneath the building like a bed of stars, shimmering decorations reflecting the golden lights, a giant clock to show the time, and massive flower arrangements. 

“It’s nice,” he agrees, shuffling to the table where he gives his name. “Choi Seungcheol.”

“Perfect, thanks.” The person working the table peels two wristbands and gestures for you both to hold out your wrists. You let go of his hand to do so, letting the attendant wrap your arm in a blue band. “Have a great night, Mr. and Mrs. Choi.” 

Both of you blink in surprise. You open and close your mouth as if you’re unsure how to correct them and Seungcheol laughs, shrugging as he takes your hand and leads you out of the line and into the party proper this time.

“This way, wifey.” 

You roll your eyes but grin anyway, looping your arm through his offered one and tugging him close. He’s satisfied, leading you through the tight crowd of people toward the south bar that Wonwoo had said their friends were waiting at.

Joshua spots you and waves you both over, making room at the bar for you to join. Jeonghan’s eyes flick to where your arm is looped through Seungcheol to Seungcheol himself, raising a brow. Seungcheol glares at him, urging him to shut up and Jeonghan grins, turning to order drinks at the bar. 

Wonwoo claps Seungcheol on the back in greeting before kissing you on both cheeks and letting you sit on the only barstool available. Seungcheol moves with you pressed to your back as he leans an elbow on the bar, keeping you close. You lean into him, earning a shy smile that he tries to hide behind the rim of the champagne glass that Jeonghan hands him.

He likes this. He likes being with his friends. He likes the way you laugh and lean back further into him when you do. He likes that his friends don’t bother the two of you about being attached at the hip. And he likes the way your face lights up every time he jokingly calls you wifey. 

Seungcheol wants this. 

He doesn’t recall the last time he wanted a relationship the way he wants with you. It doesn’t matter anyway. Everything before you is gone and forgotten, and what matters now are the things that are post-meeting-you. 

Plied with lots of champagne and your laughter, Seungcheol lets you drag him onto the dance floor, wrapping your arms around him as he spins you. He doesn’t know what has him more drunk, the alcohol or you. He thinks it might be you. 

The DJ announces that it’s one minute until midnight, making Seungcheol spin and look up at the clock. The partygoers cheer, clustering together to press toward the clock to count down. Seungcheol wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you close in the tight crowd. 

His heart flutters as he watches the numbers countdown, realizing he gets to kiss you at midnight. He’s kissed you over a hundred times by now, but the prospect makes him giddy. His heart races as the numbers drop and he looks at you from the corner of your eye.

You’re watching the clock, uncontrolled happiness on your face as you yell with the rest of the crowd, counting each number as it passes by. 

When the clock strikes midnight, you peer up at him, suddenly unsure. He can’t believe you don’t see it, that you’d doubt for one second that he wants you to be his first kiss of the year. His heart seizes, dipping down with a smile to press his lips to yours.

Your mouth is warm and champagne-sweet, making him groan in the back of his throat. Your fingers cling to his hip, holding him by the waist as he slips a hand up to the back of your neck to hold you in place, deepening the kiss. 

When you pull your mouth away, he makes up his mind. Fuck everything he said about keeping it casual - he doesn’t want to go another minute without you knowing what he wants. 

-

DAY NINETY THREE

“Be my girlfriend.”

The words that come from Seungcheol’s lips catch you off guard. A giggle bursts to your lips and you lean back, trying to examine him from a little farther away. You feel the glitter of champagne in your veins and the same buzz that comes with being near Seungcheol, wondering if maybe he’s had too much to drink.

“What?” you ask, examining his face. He’s flushed, lips pink and smiling, but his eyes are dark and serious.

“Be my girlfriend,” he says again, this time quieter. He leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours. His breath fans your face, warm and sweetened by champagne. “I know we agreed to be casual so if you don’t want more, that’s fine. But there is nothing casual about the way I feel about you.”

Heart thundering, you laugh and cling to him a little tighter. He nudges you with his head, as though asking what’s so funny. You don’t know how to put into words that you’ve wanted to be not casual for a long time, that you are dizzy with the prospect of being something more, that he’s just made the first minute of your year perfect.

Instead of trying to string together the words to tell him, you kiss him. His mouth turns upward, letting you press your palms to the sides of his face, holding him to your lips. There’s no one else but just the two of you, entirely in your own bubble on the rooftop. 

Relief mixed with euphoria floods your system. It’s a weight lifted off your shoulders, realizing that you’re not crazy, that nothing you feel about Seungcheol is casual and that’s okay. That he feels it too. 

Your fingers slide into the hair at the back of his neck, pulling slightly. He groans, separating your mouths to peer down at you, his lashes fanning when he blinks, dazed. 

“Don’t do that,” he whispers. “This is a work party. I’ll fold right here.” 

“So take me somewhere that isn’t here and fold.”

His gummy smile is blinding, your heart soaring. “Alright, wifey.” 

“Gonna need a ring pop at a minimum if you’re gonna keep saying that shit.”

He links your fingers together, stepping away from you. He tugs you after him and you follow. “Deal. What flavor?”

“Strawberry. I kind of want to suck something else right now, though.” 

Seungcheol groans and you laugh, loving the way he visibly struggles as your words land. He walks faster, a new pep in his step as you make your way toward the elevator. He shouts Wonwoo’s name as he goes, waving his hand to tell him that you’re leaving. 

Wonwoo’s grin is all-knowing as he throws two thumbs up, cheering happily. You tingle with a little bit of embarrassment, scurrying toward the closing elevator door to catch it. It opens again and you both slip inside, alone and buzzing from the party and your newfound status. 

The door closes and Seungcheol pushes in close. You press against the wall, looking up at his sharp grin, his nose nudging yours. His lips are almost on yours, the heat of them against your mouth making you dizzy and the heavy weight of his body against yours making your thoughts sticky. 

“Gonna suck something else, huh?” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Wanna do it right here in the elevator?” 

“Huh?” 

He bursts into laughter at your wide gaze, tapping the underside of your chin with his knuckle in jest. “I’m kidding. Unless…”

You shove him away and he starts laughing again, bending over with the force of it. You can’t be annoyed by his teasing, loving the way his eyes crease at the corner and how he laughs with the full force of his body. 

“You’re so annoying.” 

“You should have seen your face, though.” 

“I mean I’ll do it right now, if you want.”

His smile drops and he opens his mouth a little, shocked. “Wait, really?”

“No, but you should have seen your face.”

The elevator arriving at the appropriate floor saves him from answering. He scowls at you and you giggle, grabbing him and pushing him into the hall and toward your room. He turns on his heel, falling into step with you and fishing the room key out of his pocket. 

It’s cold in the room when you enter. Seungcheol had booked a one bedroom suite with a small living room and kitchenette. It was more than what you needed for the night, but it feels nice, like your own private getaway. 

Taking you by the hand, he walks backward toward the bedroom, pulling you along. His smile is beautiful and you wear a matching one. A thrill shoots through you when you realize that Seungcheol is yours. Really yours. 

Sitting on the bed, he pulls you into his lap. Your knees sink in the mattress on either side of his hips, ass resting on his thighs. Leaning over him, you link your hands behind the back of his neck, threading your fingers through the silky hair there. 

Seungcheol tilts his face up toward you, eyes fluttering as you play with his hair. His arms loop around your waist, squeezing you. 

“Hi,” he breathes. 

“Hi.”

Leaning down, you slot your mouth against his. He tastes like champagne, mouth warm. Kissing him takes your breath away, thoughts guttering out as he licks into your mouth hungrily. You lose yourself in the feeling of him, feeling like you’re on fire. 

Seungcheol falls backward on the bed. His lips are swollen and pink, eyes heavy-lidded as he stares up at you. He reaches for you but you give him a coy smile and slip from his lap, crouching to the floor and running your hands along his thighs, feeling them flex beneath your touch. 

You love Seungcheol’s thighs. Your nails drag across the fabric and he lets out a breathy sound. His muscles twitch as you reach to brush your fingers over his zipper, making sure to press into his cock. His hips jerk upward at the barest hint of stimulation and you grin.

“It’s no elevator,” you tease. “But will this do?” 

“Fucking anywhere will do.” 

Seungcheol has always been sensitive. He’s easy to rile, cock already firm by the time you’re undoing his belt and he’s helping you pull his dress pants down his thighs. You eye the dark patch in his briefs, proud that with just a little bit of kissing and some light touching he’s already leaking at the tip.

Sitting high on your knees, you lean forward, tongue pressing wetly to the tip of his cock through the fabric. A hand shoots to the back of your head, his fingers gripping you firmly as you laugh, tongue still pressed to him and soaking through his briefs.

“Don’t you dare tease me tonight,” he warns, voice shaky. “That is not wifey behavior.” 

You remove your tongue, pouting and moving to press a kiss to his thigh. “You never let me tease you.” 

“I’m not patient.” Your teeth scrape the softness of his flesh and his legs twitch, knees knocking your shoulder. “Baby, I am so serious.”

Biting your bottom lip to hide a smile, you give in. You know with certainty he’d let you drag this out if you really wanted to. Seungcheol is impatient and greedy and demanding, but he also lets you do what you want when it comes down to it. 

Instead of testing his grace, you peel his briefs down, freeing his cock. Your mouth waters at his thick length, your hand automatically reaching up to grab him. You swipe your thumb through the precum gathered, using it to slide down the full length of his shaft.

Seungcheol’s hips buck. You grip him properly, working him slowly as you shuffle closer on your knees. They already hurt, hotel carpet digging into them but you ignore it in favor of watching the way his fingers slowly undo the button of his shirt, needing to shuck the fabric off. 

“You’re pretty,” you note absently. His stomach flexes when he sits up to slide his shirt off of his shoulders. He looks down at you, pupils dilated. “Very, very pretty.” 

“You’re a work of art yourself.”

Instead of laying back down flat, he leans back on his palms, letting his head fall back. Seungcheol shuts his eyes, face tilted up at the ceiling as though in prayer. “Feels good.”

Humming happily, you lean forward and slowly run the flat of your tongue up the base of his shaft. That draws a low moan out of him, his chest rising and falling as he pants. You’re fascinated by his reactions, watching his face and body language carefully as you swirl your tongue around the crown of his cock.

He’s responsive, fingers digging into the sheets in an effort not to grab your head and take control. He’s testing his patience, letting you bring him into the wet heat of your mouth at your pace, sucking lazily. 

“Fuck,” he groans. You hum around him and he shakes his head, shivering. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Good you think, setting a proper place as you swallow him down, letting your spit pool to help make the glide easier. It’s messy and wet, just the way Seungcheol likes it, his moans backtracking the slick sounds coming from your mouth.

What you can’t fit in your mouth properly, you cover with your hand, squeezing periodically as you stroke upward, meeting your stretched lips. 

“God,” Seungcheol whispers. “You know how to suck cock.”

Pulling off of him with a wet pop, you grin, feeling the sting in your mouth from the stretch. Your lips are cum and spit-slicked, sticky as you continue to stroke him. 

“Thanks,” you laugh. “I heard I’m wifey material.”

“Fucking, shit, yeah a little bit. Fuckkkk, mouth please.” 

You comply, sucking him back into your mouth. He’s putty underneath you, hips twitching off the bed a little as soft sounds drip from his mouth. You watch, totally hypnotized by the way he moved, the way his hairline gets a little sweaty as he nods, encouraging you. 

Biting his lip, he lifts a hand from the bed to grab at you, pulling you off of him. “Come here,” he growls, opening his. 

Seungcheol pulls you to him, not caring that your mouth is a mess. His tongue delves in, exploring the mixed taste of champagne and precum, hands pulling at your dress to peel it off of you. 

“Let me sit against the headboard,” he pants, breaking the kiss to scoot backward. You peel your underwear off and toss them, following him across the mattress as he settles. He pats his lap and reaches for you. “Come here, baby.” 

You settle into his lap again, mouth melding to his. His hands explore you, gripping your ass, squeezing your waist, running up your front to pinch at your nipples. You moan into his mouth, carding your fingers in his hair and pulling at the stimulation, your head tilting back a little.

He takes the opportunity to attach his lips to your throat, biting sharply and soothing the sting with his tongue. Sinking a little lower, you feel your pussy brush against his cock and you sigh, gently rolling your hips to slide your sticky folds up his shaft. 

Seungcheol groans against you, mouth feverish against your skin. He maps your throat, kissing and biting his way to your chest, where he steals a pert nipple into his mouth to give a harsh suck. You squeal and he grins, plucking at your sensitive bud with his teeth. 

Holding onto him, you let him lavish attention to your tits the way he wants, hands squeezing, tongue flicking. It feels good. Aflame, you continue to roll your hips shallowly in his waist, just giving the barest of stimulation to you both.

A hand slides between your legs, his fingers finding your swelling clit, pressing against it. You whine loudly, fighting off a violent shiver. He grins where he has your breast in his mouth, sucking generously as he lazily circles your clit with his fingers. 

“Cheol,” you whisper-whine. “You said no teasing.”

“I said no teasing me.” His fingers slide backward and dip into your entrance teasingly. You clench around nothing, aching for him to do something. “Flustered, huh?” 

“Please give me something.”

He presses his lips against the side of your jaw, grinning. “Fine.” He sinks a single finger into you and you sigh in immediate relief. It isn’t enough but it’s something, your hips rocking to take him in deeper. “Better?”

“I can take more.” 

“Of course you can.” He pushes in another finger, the stretch so good. “You’re my girl. You can take what I give you.”

Dropping your head to his shoulder, you nod. You hide your face in his flushed skin, riding his fingers as he slowly slides them home, working you gently. They press against your sensitive spot and you curse, gripping him a little tighter. 

Impatient and needing more, you grind yourself forward, fucking his hand properly. He laughs, letting you take what you need, cupping you fully so the heel of his palm grinds into your clit. Your movements are frenzied, driven by the desire for him, the feeling curling inside you. 

“Just like that,” he encourages. “Fuck yourself on my fingers just like that.” 

You do, thighs aching and body shaking. The sheets stick to your legs as you work yourself up, sweaty palms sliding against Seungcheol’s shoulders. He whispers in your ear, voice low and scratchy, adding to the building mania inside of you. 

“Shit,” you hiss, feeling the tightness in your stomach start to boil over. 

“Come on, come around my fingers. You got it.” 

His gentle voice pushes you over all the way and you clench around his fingers, coming undone. Your hips stop moving and your legs squeeze around his as you seize up. Seungcheol is having none of it, taking the lead to drive his fingers up into you as you flutter around him.

“Oh,” you gasp as he finer fucks you through the rest of your orgasm, sucking at a tender spot on your neck until you’re trembling and a mess. “Okay, okay, okay.” 

Seungcheol takes it easy on you, pulling his fingers from between your legs with a slick noise. You heave against him, catching your breath while he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks obnoxiously. 

“Mmm.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He smacks your ass and you squeak. “Ride my cock like that?” 

Huffing, you extend to your full height on your knees. He grabs the base of his shaft, eyes fixed on the mess between your legs as you sink down slowly. His tip breaches you, both of you letting out a sound as you keep going, holding your breath as he stretches you open.

Seungcheol taps your waist. “Breathe.” 

You do, inhaling a breath as you nestle in his lap, seated fully, clenching around him. “Thanks.”

“Mhmm.” 

Seungcheol’s hands move up your sides, his eyes drinking in every inch of you. This time, you know the look in his eye is real. His gaze is covetous, looking at you like you’re his because you are. 

You catch his hands with yours, linking your finger and squeezing. He smiles, looking up at you with dark locks of hair in his face. You smile back, starting to roll your hips, using his hands to steady yourself.

Everything feels like an exposed nerve. The cool air of the hotel room brushes across your back, making you shiver. The mattress dips under your movement, your thighs flexing to keep your balance steady, Seungcheol’s grip on you helping. 

“You’re so perfect,” Seungcheol mutters, using your linked hands to pull you toward him. Your hands slip from him, going to the headboard to help lift you instead. His grip finds your waist, aiding in your movement while his mouth finds your breasts. “God these tits.” 

An ache settles in your thighs but you ignore it, chasing an orgasm. You tremble in his hold, breath punching out of you as he mumbles your name, watching you with fucked out eyes and lips parted, like you’re giving him everything he ever wanted.

You kind of feel that way. The way he looks at you isn’t that different from before, but now you’re confident in it, realizing that everything with Seungcheol felt too intimate because it was. Casual was never the right name for it, neither of you having any idea how to really be no strings attached. 

“My fucking legs hurt,” you admit, panting. “Can you take over?” 

“Mhmm.” Seungcheol surges forward, knocking you backward onto the bed. You laugh, bouncing a little as he pulls out and helps maneuver you. “Turn around for me.” 

With shaking arms, you follow his instruction. The sheets cling to you as you roll, making you huff and swat at them. He chuckles, peeling them away from your sweaty skin while you settle on your stomach, arching your ass a little. 

He palms your left cheek, groaning and dragging his blunt nails down the curve to your hip where he grabs you. “Unreal,” he whispers, to either you or himself. 

You gasp when he thrusts pack in, punching the air from your lungs as he sets a sharp pace. You jostle on the bed, grabbing the sheets and knotting your hands in them to keep you in place, a stream of whimpers leaving you. 

A hand slips up your spine, pressing flat between your shoulder blades, pushing you down further into the bed. You gasp and nod, Seungcheol taking it as a sign to put more weight into it, angling his hips so he’s fucking down into you. 

It’s hard to breathe, the dizziness taking over as your skin starts to turn to static, orgasm so close that you can feel the buzz between your legs. He keeps going like that, pinning you hard to the bed as his hips crash into yours. 

His name leaves your mouth in a cry as you squeeze around him, letting loose. He curses, picking up his pace, ignoring the wet squelch as he does, palm pressing you harder into the bed as you come. 

You think you might disintegrate, unable to do anything but make broken sounds as he chases his orgasm. Just when you think you might not get another breath, he comes, the pressure on your back lifting a little. You gasp for air, feeling the room tilt as his thrusts slow, becoming gentle. 

Seungcheol’s hands are soothing on your back, fingers dancing up and down your spine, delicate. He’s muttering something to you but you can’t hear him, the pounding of your heart far too loud, pulse rattling in your ears. 

When his hips are still, his hands keep moving. He leans over you, careful not to put his weight on you, mouth kissing across your shoulders. Your cheek is pressed flat against the sheet as you pant, coming down from a fever pitch. 

“You okay if I get up and get you water?” the question is whispered across your cheek, where Seungcheol presses a tender kiss. You nod and he kisses you again before peeling away from you. 

Laying in the bed, you drift, listening to him shuffle around to the kitchen. You’re sleepy but more aware now. When the bed dips again, you crack your eye open, watching as he navigates carefully on his knees, two glasses of water in hand. 

“Can you sit up or do you need help?” You shake your head and muster the strength you have left to sit up. Your muscles spasm as you do, a groan leaving your mouth as the room spins from the change in perspective. “You okay?”

“Thirsty,” you rasp, reaching for the glass he offers. Gulping down the cool water, you’re aware of his eyes on you, watching you drain the glass as he sips his. “Thank you.”

He takes the empty glass and kisses your lips. “Mhmm. Need more?”

“No, I’m good. I just need to sleep for five hundred years, no big deal.” 

“Damn, five hundred goes crazy. Do you think we’ll have flying cars by then?” 

Seungcheol puts both glasses on the nightstand and peels back the covers of the bed. He slips under them, patting the spot next to him. You crawl over, limbs heavy and uncoordinated. He laughs at you and you scowl, but manage to clamber in next to him, warm beneath the blankets and tucked into his chest.

“Yes, definitely. And like giant sexy holograms advertising porn, probably.”

“That’s the first thing you think of in the future? Porn?”

“Listen,” you huff, laying your head against his chest and closing your eyes. “I’m still a little champagne buzzed and you just fucked me until I couldn’t breathe for a while. Cut me slack.” 

“Sure thing, wifey.” 

“Ugh. Is that our thing now?” 

“Mhmm. Everything pre-relationship has henceforth been replaced with the relationship-only era. Pretend you have amnesia.” 

A huff of laughter leaves you. “Sure thing.” 

“I mean I feel like I have amnesia.” You give him a questioning look. He’s contemplative, staring with unseeing eyes as he plays with your fingers. “I had an entire life and habits before you, and I swear it’s like sometimes my memory actually starts with that first night at the bar.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re just around a lot and I like to think it’s always been that way. And I’m kind of sorry for taking so long to admit nothing about this was casual for me.” 

You smile. “Wasn’t for me either.” 

“Good.” He snuggles into you, settling in silence for a few moments. “Thanks for letting me win pool that first night.” 

“I did not let you win that game, oh my god.” 

“Just admit it! You wanted to taste my goodies and you let me win.” 

“I’m gonna give you some damn amnesia,” you mutter, but grin as he hugs you tight.

“Sure thing, wifey. Sure thing.” 

-

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