#this is as best as my brain is going to do tonight <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[xwesjames]

Hey, man. Any chance Lilly is missing a denim jacket? I was cleaning out my car and found one. It's not Ary's, so it's gotta be one of the girls who was over for her birthday, a couple weeks ago, that I drove to the roller rink.

@theobrowningfd

[coriander-candlesticks]

I've felt like I should check in with Apollo the past few days and finally managed to clear enough space on my floor to feel alright with breaking out the tarot deck again so I did! Lit his candle, said as as formal a prayer as I could muster beforehand, asked Hermes to help with communication, the whole shebang. For further context: I've been wanting to ask Aphrodite something specific (also via tarot, it's the most grounding tool I've got) but I only have the one deck at the moment and, while I've used it to ask Hermes about things in tandem with Apollo, and Aphrodite introduced herself via it (with a card that also introduced Apollo), I wasn't sure if it would be cool for me to use it to ask her specifically something not in direct tandem with Apollo. I mentioned that in the prayer but also said that that might be a question for a different session, since trying to get an answer to that (on top of the general "hey how are we doing/do you have anything you want me to learn") might muddy my ability to understand the message.

Cue twelve cards falling out of my deck/poking out while I was shuffling. I usually pull ~3 cards on top of whatever falls out, but I ended up not feeling like it was needed. Seven of them fell out face-up, too.

Despite having some concerns about whether all of the cards were "supposed" to be pulled, it was pretty coherent! And covered quite a few things I've been thinking about recently, including sorting out anxiety vs a warning/displeasure, a follow-up of a card that was the focus of my last pull, and a reminder to look at outside/intellectual sources to combat the whatever-the-fuck-my-brain's-on. There were four cards that fell out face-up together in a pile: a card I associate with Apollo at the front and one associated with Artemis (the Moon) at the back, with cards related to unity & growth in the middle. I'd had a pretty bad experience attempting an offering to Artemis last month and have stepped back and avoided asking her for anything or specifically invoking her in prayers/offerings/etc. since (except for once when it involved a pregnant friend b/c it seemed odd and tbh a little disrespectful to ask Apollo for help and not her as well) because I took it as a sign that she didn't want me to work with her. I'm also aware, though, that that bad experience could have just been a meltdown/panic attack. Regardless of whether it was either of those two things, a "hey slow down" warning, or a combination, it was nice to have some clear reassurance & an official introduction. It's also significant, I think, that part of the Moon card's message is about not letting anxiety/"self-deception" (direct from the guide) cloud your intuition. I've been wanting to burn the candle I dedicated to her for a few days now- it's possible that was a sign from her as well.

As far as the deck-use question...the first card that fell out was the Empress (face-up, reversed). My initial thought was that it was a "no", but I decided to look at the meaning in case it wasn't that which was. probably a bad idea. It freaked me out a bit because I couldn't figure out what it was referring to. I ended up using my alphabet oracle tiles for a makeshift yes/no system after finishing with all the other cards and got clear confirmation that my instinct was, in fact, correct.

All in all it was really cool?? By far the most cards I've had in one pill iirc, and a good lesson in identifying how my intuition works.

[lululeighsworld]

finished shadowbringers a year ago today and went back to watch some of my fave cutscenes now that the graphics are updated :'''''''') i don't think a day has gone by since last year where i HAVEN'T thought about these two in some way shape or form!!

[the-physicality]

.

[loaksky]

— come a little closer

hockey jock!vi x tutor!reader, fluff / humor / angst / kinda slowburn / smut (18+ mdni!), wc: 16k+ [buckle your seatbelts bc i could not shut the fuck up about vi if i wanted to !]

synopsis: you’re many things; an exemplary student, quiet and well-mannered, loved immensely by those who bother to get to know you, but most importantly, the newfound object of superstar athlete vi’s every affection. or, in other words, hockey jock!vi is lowkey a loser, atrociously down bad, and will stop at nothing to make you hers.

content warnings: language (duh), brief mentions of familial issues, latent insecurity, miscommunication & lack of communication, kissing, groping, SEX! mdni, seriously, i’ll THROW UP!, more specifically fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), spitting, makeup sex idk, just good old fashioned lesbian BANGING! also! jazz cabbage, lets pretend for the sake of this au that student athlete’s don’t get tested bc i NEED hockey jock!vi to hotbox reader PLS.

fic soundtrack: i could imagine —alina baraz /snooze — sza /tonight — summer walker / pressure — james vickery + sg lewis / wish that i could — umi

author’s note: of course it’d be arcane s2 that resurrects me from my almost yearlong hiatus...pls enjoy this fic even though i’m pretty rusty; she’s been cooking in the drafts for weeks T-T i’ll be answering some (very long overdue) asks and chatting with you guys <3 and finally, this shit is barely proofread bc my brain is fried lol

main masterlist | arcane masterlist

VI HAS A HUGE PROBLEM.

One that supersedes every issue she’d ever given weight to in all of her four (and a half) years of university. Is way larger than twice-a-day practices on and off the ice that go hand-in-hand with studying so hard to make sure that her grades don’t slip a fraction. Probably way bigger than the fact that her little sister’s graduating high school soon and she’s trying her absolute best to be as great a role model as she can despite wanting to crack under the pressure. And most definitely bigger than her favorite on-again-off-again fling, Cait Kiramann, who’s rare to come by these days.

Vi has a huge problem, and quite frankly, it’s you.

In hindsight, she’s been relatively good at overlooking you, not that it’d been intentional to begin with, but Vi knows a lot of people. Too many, she feels sometimes. So it's easy for you to slip through the cracks when everyone’s vying for even a shred of her attention.

Perhaps it’s what piques her interest when your orbits finally do collide. Because, admittedly, you know all about Vi. Know that she’s probably one of the most valuable players on the uni’s hockey team (she’s an absolute beast on the ice). Also know that she’s a biomedical physics major and actually incredibly smart. But most of all, you know that not only is Violet a flirt, she’s a player.

Not necessarily that you’ve ever really been on the receiving end, but mostly because her reputation precedes her and you’ve seen it all from a distance. Can't not when the decorated hockey star is such a charmer whether she intends to be or not. Vi has girls both certain and questioning stumbling for a single glance.

You often think it’s pitiful, but it’s not like it’s really your problem.

Until it is.

It all starts at The Afterparty.

Hours after a big victory in the first game of three that solidifies whether the university hockey team participates in the championships, Violet is the star of tonight’s celebration.

She’d sunk the winning shot, and for that she’s being poured shot after celebratory shot. By eleven she’s practically hammered and it’s when her teammate, Ellie, and the captain, Abby, finally show up.

The three of them together, drunk, is like a minefield of obnoxious laughter, dirty innuendos, and rowdy behavior.

And for a while it’s funny, has Vi feeling like she’s on cloud nine, but eventually, the drunken high begins to evaporate and she starts to feel a little overwhelmed.

The spotlight shifts and even though Vi typically preens under the attention, she’s grateful to finally breathe.

With a plastic cup full of water, she’s sliding the back door open and stepping out onto the back patio to take in the cool air for a breather.

She makes a move towards the stairs, but nearly jumps out of her skin when she registers the silhouette at the base of the steps.

“Jesus, fuck,” Vi hisses to herself. “You scared the shit outta me.”

You don’t even spare her a glance over your shoulder, just take a sip from your drink.

“Sorry,” you hum passively.

She catches her breath, doesn’t even bother to ask permission as she drops all of her weight next to you.

The step creaks under pure muscle.

Her strong legs stretch out, elbows settling back against the step up as she waits. And waits. And waits.

The amount of silence that lapses is unusual, uncharacteristic for Vi, especially so because people are typically babbling enough to fill the void when it comes to her.

But you just sit there, nursing your beer and staring up at the stars. The moon hangs half in the sky, softly illuminating the planes of your features.

It’s her first good look at your face and Vi’s definitely drunk, but the immediate thought that comes to her mind is pretty, pretty, pretty. Undeniably and painfully pretty. And not Caitlyn pretty, the only girl she’s ever really used as a benchmark, but intimidatingly so in your own right. Makes her swallow hard, throat bobbing as she watches you unapologetically.

“It’s rude to stare, Violet,” you say simply, eyes finally flitting to meet hers.

Her breath catches in her throat, earthy flecks dancing in your moonlit irises. God, your eyes. Framed by thick lashes and round as you look up at her.

“You know who I am?” she asks stupidly as if point fives of her face aren’t blown up into memes and plastered all over the house.

“Who doesn’t?” you ask, breathing a puff of humorless laughter as you crush the can in your ringed fingers.

And perhaps you got her there, but Vi’s feeling exceptionally small under your gaze despite usually filling out a room. Something about you makes her shrink.

“I— fuck,” Vi stumbles, cheeks red because you’re looking at her with an indecipherable gleam in your gaze that has her squirming. “What’s your name?”

She cringes at herself, rolls the piercing in her nose once, twice, for comfort.

You laugh again, a little more genuine this time because, from a distance, the athlete’s usually so suave, undeniably gorgeous and composed. Right now, the girl in front of you only ticks one of those boxes.

“________,” you offer.

She weighs the name on her tongue, decides she likes it a lot, and tries to shake off whatever this feeling you’re giving her is.

“And you go to school here?” she asks.

You nod once.

“Neuroscience, fourth year.”

“Huh, we’re in similar fields, but I’ve never seen you around,” Vi observes. Because she’s certain she’d bookmark a face like yours, absolutely no doubt about it.

“We had organic chemistry together sophomore year with Dr. Talis,” you say matter-of-factly, like you’re not blowing her mind right now. “And I’m auditing Medarda’s biometry class this semester.”

Vi’s floored.

“Wait, wait, but...” She’s trying to piece the puzzle together, but her brain’s still a little fuzzy, equal parts from the alcohol, but also because she’s caught a whiff of your perfume and you smell so sweet.

“I pop in every once in a while,” you tell her. “But I tutor in that time slot every Tuesday and Thursday, only really go when I don’t have any appointments.”

“Hold on, this is nuts,” Violet says, body easing to face you. You flinch because she doesn’t realize she’s practically yelling. “There’s no way, I definitely would’ve remembered you if that was the case.”

You hum, corners of your lips quirking as you shrug your shoulders.

“Doubt it,” you counter. “I’m nothing particularly spectacular.”

“Nothing particularly spectacular,” Vi repeats under her breath.

And under normal circumstances, she’d be flirting up a storm right now, trying to charm her way into getting you to bite, but this is one of the first semblances of normalcy she’s experienced in a while. No ulterior motives, no exaggerated kindness, no outright asking her to fuck.

Suddenly your phone lights up in your lap and you’re turning your attention to the device.

“DD duties call,” is all you say as you make a move to stand up.

No, this can’t be all she gets from you tonight. Not when she’s been narrowly missing someone like you for the past four years and you’re just now coming to light.

The dormant liquid courage bubbles and Vi’s gently grabbing your wrist to pull you to a stop.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” she asks, steely eyes liquid as she stares up at you.

You eye the scar on her lip, gaze lingering there before flitting to meet hers.

“Maybe.”

Vi decides that she needs to see you again.

You’d left her with crumbs this past Friday night and she’d spent the better part of the weekend trying (and failing) to cross paths with you again.

“Jesus, you’re down bad,” Ellie chuffs Monday morning on their walk to the campus coffee shop.

“You don’t understand,” Vi defends. “She’s so...so...”

“So?”

“Different, I dunno,” Vi sighs, fiddling with the strap of her backpack as they walk. “We didn’t even talk about much, but that was the most normal I’ve felt around someone in a while.”

Her teammate snorts.

“Probably the gayest thing I’ve heard you say,” Ellie deadpans. “She isn’t immediately trying to munch and you’re already in love. Pathetic.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Vi scoffs as they approach the coffee shop, inside packed full with half-functioning college students so early in the morning. “Trust me, if you met her, you’d—”

The words die in her throat because halle-fucking-lujah, the universe or god, or whatever has answered her every prayer this past weekend as she clocks you a few paces ahead in line.

Ellie follows her friend’s line of vision to find exactly what she’s staring at and she lets out a low whistle when her gaze finds your frame.

From a completely aesthetic standpoint, she can see why Vi’s immediately hooked.

“Hah,” she makes a noise in her throat. “Okay, so maybe it makes sense.”

Vi can’t help but stare because, if it were possible, you were far prettier under the warm lighting of the cafe’s ambiance. The curls of your hair frame your face beautifully and it’s so fucking cute how focused you are on your phone.

“Hate to break it to you, though. That girl’s way out of your league,” Ellie says like it’s common knowledge.

“Wow, way to boost my ego,” Vi mutters drily.

“Just being realistic,” Ellie argues. “If you bag her, she’s easily the hottest girl you’ve been with.”

And Vi can’t really contest that, not when the proof’s in the fucking pudding.

Her body’s moving of its own accord and before she can register her own actions, she’s mumbling quiet s’cuse me’s under her breath as she squeezes between patrons to close a bruised hand over your shoulder.

You nearly jump out of your skin, fumbling with your phone as an earbud falls out.

“Shit, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Vi says quickly.

Your gaze snaps to her, brows furrowing almost imperceptibly before your expression settles.

“Violet,” you acknowledge.

And she realizes that she didn’t really have a game plan coming up to you so abruptly. Had been so focused on actually just seeing you again, that she hadn’t thought through the rest of it.

The way you stare up at her is thoroughly disarming because she doesn’t have the shield of night or alcoholic courage to carry her through it.

“Can I help you?” you ask, but not unkindly.

“Oh, uh, I...” She chances a glance over her shoulder to find that Ellie is watching her from a few customers away, eyebrow cocked and smirk testing. She word vomits before she can think of a coherent thought. “You mentioned tutoring...the last time we talked.”

You don’t even bat an eye.

“I did.”

“You’re also auditing Medarda’s biometry class.”

“I am.”

“I’m...I’m not really doing too hot in Medarda’s right now,” Vi says, brain nearly short-circuiting and freezing up because, lie! She’s doing phenomenally in Medarda’s session and, truthfully, she’s just downright scared to ask you to hang out.

Especially when you look up at her like that.

You shift and she’s swallowing down around nothing.

“Hmm, can’t have that, can we?” you hum.

Vi could melt.

“No,” she breathes out a laugh. “Can’t.”

“You can sign up for a slot through the library’s website,” you say after you weigh the thought.

Vi’s pausing, staring at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

“So I can get paid?” you fill in.

“Oh, right,” Vi chokes. “Right.”

You give her a soft smile before plugging your earbud back in, leaving Vi to rejoin her obviously amused friend.

“You’re fucking joking!”

The librarian gives you and your incredulous roommate a look from the circulation desk and you return it with a sheepish smile from where you’re tucked by a wall of looming floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Maddie,” you whisper.

“You’re telling me that The Violet asked you personally to tutor her?” Maddie asks you, leaned over the tabletop with wide eyes.

“Yeah, cornered me at Brew House this morning and asked me to tutor her in Medarda’s class.”

“Just that?” she asks. “Nothing else?”

You look around in disbelief.

“Uh, yeah?” you scoff. “What else would she want?”

“What else would she— are you serious?” Maddie leans back in her seat, arms crossing over her chest as she gives you a plain look. “You know all about Vi, you’re actually gonna play stupid?”

“Oh, come on.” You roll your eyes. “You’ve seen the girls Violet’s fucked, right? Kiramann? The blonde from the tennis team? She’s got a type and you know it.”

It’s Maddie’s turn to roll her eyes and you see the exasperated groan she’s staving off.

“None of that self-deprecating bullshit—”

“It’s not self-deprecating!” you argue. “Not everyone wants to fuck Violet, Maddie. Put me in the number one spot.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t start.”

“All I’m saying is that anyone with eyes can see that Vi’s hot as fuck. That being said, you’re also hot as fuck. Not only that, but rumor has it, she gives the most toe-curling—”

You’re rolling your eyes again, gaze fluttering out the window momentarily only to find that, speak of the devil, Violet’s approaching the library with a skip in her step.

Maddie stops her spiel to trace your gaze and nearly falls out of her seat when she finds the object of your conversation is advancing, fast.

“No fucking way,” you whisper to yourself, pulling up your tutoring log on your tablet to find that, yup, Violet has most-definitely taken your advice and signed up for a tutoring slot.

If the time reads correctly, you’ve got three minutes before she’s due to be taking Maddie’s seat.

Your friend is grinning at you mischievously, stuffing her backpack quickly to vacate the space across from you.

“Un-fucking-believable,” you scoff, slumping back in your seat.

“Tell me how it goes,” she giggles, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she stands.

“Maddie,” you warn.

“Love you, see you at home!”

Violet’s strolling into the library just as Maddie leaves through the other doors and try as you might make yourself small in the open air near the research center, her gaze falls on you as soon as she enters.

“Hey,” she breathes once breaches your vicinity.

“Hi.”

A moment lapses before you’re nodding towards the seat before you.

“We can get started whenever you’re ready.”

Right. Right! Vi’s mentally cringing, pulling the chair out with a squeak and dropping onto the worn cushion.

Her eyes are locked, watching as you pull the biometry textbook from your little messenger bag.

“Any particular areas you’re struggling in?” you ask, flipping to a clean sheet of paper in your notepad and clicking open your pen.

Vi combs her brain, tries to think of anything she’s not really grasping in Medarda’s class, but she’s been acing all the exams with flying colors, so she spits out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Logistic regression, probably,” she answers.

“In relation to...?” You tilt your head and Vi’s breath is hitching.

“The Confusion Matrix,” she answers, even though she knows all about it.

It’s only when you start breaking it down from the bare bones that she realizes that she could listen to you talk for-probably-ever.

You obviously have a great understanding of the subject if the way you deconstruct the relationship between sensitivity and specificity (or whatever the fuck) is anything to go by, and she doesn’t realize that she hasn’t even blinked until you’re glancing up at her.

“Am I making any sense?” you ask softly, taking in the almost confused look on Violet’s face.

“Huh?”

Vi snaps out of it, cheeks coloring pink when she notes the way you straighten in your seat.

“Am I going too fast?”

“No, no!’ Vi practically shouts before chancing an embarrassed gaze around the library to find a few wandering eyes. She clears her throat and tries to relax. “No, you’re doing great. I get it.”

You don’t seem convinced, but the faster you get through the material, the faster Violet can leave and you can finally catch your breath.

Because maybe Maddie’s a little right. That while you know, one hundred percent, without-a-doubt, that you and Violet are cut from two different cloths and that you ultimately won’t mesh, there’s still a sliver of want that settles somewhere confined in the pit of your gut.

You don’t know how long you continue before you notice that sun has begun to set in the horizon, but Vi’s effort is unwavering. She’s probably on her tenth practice problem by now and so far, she’s only flubbed once.

You decide to fold your cards first.

“O-kay,” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as you roll your shoulders and squeeze your hands shut so tight your knuckles crack. “This is a good stopping point, don’t you think?”

No, Vi could keep going forever if it meant hearing you talk all night, but the little G-shock wristwatch winks the time and she realizes that the two of you have been going at it for going on two hours and you’re probably exhausted.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long,” Vi says sheepishly. “Thanks a lot for your help, I...”

You look up from where you’re shuffling your papers together, pausing when she hesitates.

“I really appreciate you. I know you probably help dozens of people every week and—”

She stops talking when she sees you crack what seems to be the first genuine smile she could get out of you since Friday.

“It’s my job, Violet,” you tell her. “I’m happy to help.”

And she’d done well enough during the tutoring session, had a successful run with the practice problems. You were confident it was just a one and done. Perhaps served as a review for the upcoming exam Medarda had posted on the class page.

But then you see her name in the final time slot on Thursday, don’t really think much of it until you’re tabbing to next week’s schedule for shits and giggles. Tuesday and Thursday are booked through again, her name highlighted in yellow.

You minimize the calendar and pull up the aggregate schedule only to find that every 4 o’clock slot every Tuesday and Thursday’s been booked until the end of the semester.

You refresh for good measure.

“Oh, you’re so shitting me.”

You don’t know what kind of joke this is, if Violet thinks that this is funny, but you’re not amused.

Especially when you’re stalking all the way to the athletic hall, ignoring the wolfish stares from shameless student athletes to whip into the women’s hockey team’s reserved conditioning space.

You find her benching near the center of the room, Abigail Anderson spotting her while the rest of the team engages in various workouts and exercises.

A hush ripples over the weight room as you approach the hockey star, standing at the end of the bench where her knees are bent. One of Abigail Anderson’s eyebrows quirk up as you stand there with your hands on your hips and you hope the chill that runs down your spine as she checks you out doesn’t visibly vibrate your body.

When the barbell nearly crushes Vi’s chest on her last rep, Abby’s quick to help her re-rack and takes the biggest step back as Vi sits up.

Her expression falls and her face pales when she locks eyes with you, your features severe and gaze stony.

“Oh, hey,” she squeaks.

Truthfully, she hadn’t really pinned you as the type to be confrontational. Thought she’d have enough time to build a strong enough story as to why she booked out all of your tutoring sessions when in actuality she panicked when Ellie started grilling the fuck out of her about being a fucking pussy and begging her to just ask you out.

“You have some explaining to do, Violet.”

And she should definitely be embarrassed, not at all turned on, but she can’t help it as she gulps. Because when you stand before her like this, she can easily admit that she’d die for a private version of the view.

The silence in the weight room is palpable and you want to back down, but if this is some running joke and Vi’s going to make a show of humiliating you in front of her teammates, then you’d give her a show.

“Violet.”

Someone in the back snickers, another whistles, and Vi’s cheeks go red.

She’s standing, sweaty hands closing around your biceps as she spins you around and quickly guides you out of the conditioning room and out of her teammates’ line of ogling sight.

“V—”

“I’m sorry,” Violet splutters. “I’m just not really confident in Medarda’s class right now and I don’t trust myself to study alone, plus you’re a really good tutor and—”

“You do realize that those tutoring sessions are added to your tuition, right?” you ask incredulously. “It’s fifteen dollars an hour.”

Vi’s smile is crooked.

“That’s what my scholarship’s for,” she grins.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?” you try again. “I feel that before an exam for a little refresh is fair, but this would be like relearning the material after every class, all over again.”

“If it’s taught by you, I’ll take it,” Vi says quickly, and you pause because what does she mean by that?

You don’t really have much rebuttal left even though you’d marched up here with a fire under your ass. Vi’s looking down at you with a softened edge in her gaze and she’s wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants and sweat-soaked grey tank that reveals swathes of ink that curls up her arms and disappears under the fabric of her shirt.

She breathes out a small laugh when she notices the way your eyes dance.

“Anymore concerns, cupcake?”

Your gaze snaps to hers and her grin widens when she sees you fidget, little pet name obviously eliciting a semblance of a reaction from you.

“N-No,” you stammer.

“Great, see you tomorrow?“

You swallow.

“Okay,” you agree. “See you tomorrow.”

Violet pops into the library at four on the dot.

Her hair’s wet from an obvious shower and you smell her, warm like honey and cedar as she takes the seat across from you.

“Afternoon, cupcake,” she greets, slinging her backpack into the seat next to her.

You give her a warning look, but she just flashes you a toothy smile and nods towards the opened biometry textbook before you.

“What’s the lesson today, Teach?”

And this feels an awful lot like mocking, but you can’t be sure, not when Vi’s been somewhat respectful, sweet even.

“What do you know about the the sigmoid function?” you probe.

“Jack shit,” she laughs.

And maybe you’d find it endearing if the entirety of the situation wasn’t still absolutely mindfucking you at moment.

“Can I ask you something, Violet?” you ask, leaning back in your seat as you cross your arms to level her with as an intimidating look as you can.

“Sure, anything.”

“Are you messing with me?” you ask. “Is this some joke you and your friends are playing? Because I can’t really think of an outcome that would be funny.”

And you’d like to say that the look of horror on Violet’s face is consolation enough, but you know how being loved and being popular can make people act sometimes.

Vi contemplates telling you the truth, that she’s too chickenshit to ask you out, that getting close to you in any other way scares the fuck out of her. That maybe getting you to tutor her will segue into some form of friendship that’ll allow her to ease her way in. And maybe she’s going about it the hard way, but maybe Vi also likes a challenge.

“No jokes, just bad at statistics,” she says weakly.

You’re silent for way longer than comfort allows before you turn your attention to the textbook and Vi’s letting out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s holding.

“Fine,” you give in. “Let’s talk about sigmoid function and practice some applications...”

Vi’s happy to listen, goes through your preselected practice problems with ease (and maybe fucks up a value or two here and there to really sell her need for you). But the sun’s going down again, and it’s nearing six when Vi folds her hand this time around.

It comes in the form of her stomach grumbling in the emptying library and she looks up at you in embarrassment as you crack the first smile of the evening.

“Hungry?” you ask.

“Starving,” she replies dramatically, leaning so far back in her seat, her knees bump yours under the table.

Your toes curl at the contact, heart skipping when she doesn’t make a move to reposition herself.

“Have you eaten yet?” she asks, eyes looking everywhere but yours.

“Not since breakfast,” you admit.

“You like pizza?”

“Only the good kind,” you challenge.

“Beautiful,” Vi hums, shuffling her papers into her textbook and chucking it back into her bookbag. “I know the best place.”

Valentino’s is a hole-in-the-wall right outside of campus, a short walk from the library that Violet leverages as a way to get to know you outside of being lectured about statistical curves and correlation.

“Did you grow up around here?” Vi asks once the waiter sets two glasses of water down between the two of you.

You shake your head.

“No, grew up on the east coast and decided I needed a break from my life there,” you admit easily.

It’s almost as if the facade of professionalism fades away, melting to reveal you.

Vi’s desperate for more.

“As in?”

You look at her for a moment, wonder if you should divulge because you’re not really sure if Vi would get it, but she watches you like she’s hanging onto every single word you say, so you’re spilling.

“My dad died when I was little, left me and three other siblings with my Mom,” you offer. “And I love my siblings. Love my mom. She’s been a great parent, better than great actually, but most of our family disowned me when I came out and it was easier to run away than to deal with it.”

Violet’s expression falls, a furrow settling deep between her brows.

“Wow, I’m, uh, I’m really sorry to hear that,” she says, and she sounds sincere. A long moment lapses before she’s adding, “for what it’s worth, I think that’s very brave of you.”

And you seem a little surprised at the sentiment.

“Thanks.” You smile. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

Vi could turn to goo in this dimly lit booth, stained-glass wall sconce casting a warm glow over your pretty face.

“You—” She sniffs, changes the subject because she doesn’t know if she can do this on an empty stomach. “You like pineapple on your pizza?”

“Oh yeah,” you confirm proudly. “It’s a hill I’ll die on, I’m not sorry.”

“God, marry me now.”

She doesn’t realize she says it out loud until you’re bursting into a fit of laughter on your side of the booth.

“So this is something we can agree on?” you ask, head tilting in the way that makes Vi want to grab your face and taste you.

“Oh yeah,” she parrots instead. “One hundred percent.”

Valentino’s becomes routine just as much as Vi seeing you at four every Tuesday and Thursday becomes routine. It’s always after the Thursday session (because they have a three dollar slice from 6 to close) that you and Vi cram yourselves in the same booth near the kitchen and giggle over half a Hawaiian pizza.

“...And my little sister blew up her science project in the fourth grade—”

You choke on your bite, eyes wide as Violet recalls Powder’s little mishap that sent the entire gymnasium evacuating despite the tiniest fire.

“Now she’s about graduate and start school for chemical engineering,” she says, obviously proud.

“She seems like a smart girl,” you observe, if the countless stories Violet shares with you is anything to go by.

You figure being related to someone as great as the new friend you’ve made also speaks for itself.

“The smartest,” she agrees. “I’m proud of her.”

“I’m sure she’s proud of you too,” you assure her. “You’re a good big sister.”

And it’s in these moments that Vi realizes that she’s in far, far deeper than she initially gave stock. Because these past few weeks, she realizes that there’s a lot more to your big brain and your pretty face. You’re an attentive listener, way funnier than she could have anticipated, and just a lot more laid back than you let on.

That much she finds out after the two of you graduate from emailing with silly sign-offs to exchanging phone numbers and texting. It starts off rather irregular, a coffee order here and there, maybe a TikTok that Vi swears is funny, you just have to watch it all the way through! But then she starts texting you when she’s bored, when she’s in class, before practice, after. Even pops the question that’s been niggling at her since she met you: on a scale from 1 - 10 how down are you to smoke?

Like cigarettes?

no, weed, dummy.

Oh. Hmm. 7. 10 if I’m drunk.

She could not wipe the smile from her face even if she tried.

And then she gets the invite.

Ellie swears it’s her in.

“Jesus Christ if you even consider me a friend, you’ll bang,” Ellie calls from the couch.

“It’s just tutoring,“ Vi argues.

“Yeah, at her place,” she scoffs. “At least test the waters, maybe cop a feel.”

“You’re a pig,” Vi snorts, making sure her laptop and all of the worksheets Medarda’s assigned over the course of the week is in her backpack.

“You’ve been wet dreaming over this girl for months.”

“Fuck all the way off.” Vi’s face warms because her best friend isn’t necessarily wrong.

You’re too hot for your own good, but you don’t even know it and Vi thinks she could die sometimes. Especially when you wear your favorite pair of jeans, the ones that hug the swell of your ass just right. Or swipe on that shimmery lipgloss she swears makes your mouth look edible.

If you were willing, Vi would be all over you, but thinking about taking advantage of the fact that you trust her enough to invite her into your space feels a little grimy.

“Whatever, bang, don’t bang,” Ellie says nonchalantly. “Blueball yourself for all I care.”

Vi rolls her eyes, slings her bag over her shoulder before sliding on her shoes and leaving her friend on the couch with a resounding click.

You live off-campus, maybe a ten minute drive, in a cozy little complex near the suburbs. Your roommate, Maddie, a chipper blonde with a bob, is all too eager to leave when Vi arrives.

“Hi, sorry we couldn’t meet anywhere else,” you apologize as you let her into your space. “Even if the library wasn’t closed, the vet said I have to monitor Pip for the next 48 hours.”

Vi raises a brow.

“My cat,” you clarify.

“Oh.” Vi doesn’t know why she suddenly feels like she’s intruding as she hesitantly toes off her shoes and follows you down the hall.

But she does take the opportunity to take you in in all your glory; all cozy and cuddly in an oversized sweatshirt, plaid pajama shorts and mismatched egg socks.

Cute. So fucking cute.

You spare her a glance over your shoulder and she’s clearing her throat.

“We don’t have to have a session tonight," she says, stopping at the threshold of the living room. “I would’ve understood if you had to cancel.”

You shake your head, give her a soft smile that has her knees feel like jelly.

“S’okay,” you assure her. “A promise is a promise.”

And you do start off studying, shoulder to shoulder in front of your coffee table, but then Pip crawls from his little hiding spot under the TV console to curiously nose along Vi’s feet and she’s a goner.

“He’s so sweet,” she practically wails as he paws at her thigh and nudges against her arm so that he can climb into her lap.

You warm at the sight, can’t help but snap a picture, much to Violet’s dismay.

“Stop,” she laughs. “That picture can’t see the light of day.”

“Why?” you whine, making a show of climbing onto your wooden coffee table to get a funny top down photo of the hockey star with your cat. “You and Pip look so cute together.”

She feigns a scowl even though her shoulders shake with laughter.

“I have a bad boy image to uphold, sweetheart.”

You snort, reach into her lap to scratch behind Pip’s ear, and her heart melts, body warm from her ears to her toes.

“Is he sick?” she asks cautiously, petting him softly.

“Just a little,” you say. “Something some rest and medicine won’t fix.”

It’s how the two of you end up on the couch, study materials long forgotten as Animal Planet plays in the background. Pip’s moved to lounge atop the covers draped over your lap and you’re blowing your nose into a tissue as an especially sad segment about baby animals being rejected by their mothers finishes.

Vi knows she shouldn’t laugh, but you’re too fucking cute and she can’t help but coo at you.

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” you hiccup.

“What, that you’re a big soft baby?” she teases.

“Vi,” you whimper.

And something in her brain tickles because she can’t recall a time you’d ever called her by her nickname, only ever referred to her as Violet and nothing else.

She resists a smile.

“Okay, okay,” she gives in. “Lets change the subject.”

You make a noise of agreement as you cuddle your sleepy Pip.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” she says, arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers a hairsbreadth from your figure.

Test the waters, cop a feel.

Vi’s not particularly into the idea, but the opportunity’s right there in the way wisps of your hair falls from its hold. Her fingers move of their own device, tucking the strands behind your ear.

She feels you still for the slightest, most imperceptible of moments, but then you’re relaxing, letting her fingers brush from your ear down to your shoulder, then back to where it rests on the back of the couch.

“You doing anything on Saturday?” she asks, really hopes you’ll say no.

“Not that I know of,” you say without second thought.

Not that you really need to. Your tight circle of friends are all alike, tethered to their hobbies and their homes.

“I have a game on Saturday,” Vi starts, fiddling with a little hole in the cushion. “If you wanted to come.”

You don’t agree or disagree immediately, and Vi’s scrambling to soothe over any potential discomfort.

“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna, of course,” she says quickly. “I just— I thought you might be interested in going and I’d really like to see you there and—”

A small little laugh puffs from your lips.

“Of course I’ll go,” you agree easily.

Vi deflates in relief.

“Great,” she sighs. “Awesome.”

Vi doesn’t know why she invites you. More so, she doesn’t know why she tells her teammates that she’s invited you because now they’re whooping and hollering in the locker room, towel-whipping her and sing-songing that their star player’s gonna get laid.

Doesn’t know why she invites you because as soon as she glides on the ice, she’s searching the stands high and low for your familiar figure. When she clocks you nestled in the middle with your roommate and another friend she vaguely recognizes, her heart’s soaring and her stomach’s twisting in knots.

Vi’s never nervous, but somehow you bring out the worst of it.

It only takes a few moments, though. The blare of the horn snaps her back into her zone and she leaves all the noise off-rink. In this moment, all she knows is cutting ice, dodging the other team’s most aggressive players and sinking shot after shot.

It’s nearing the end of the second period when she finally glances at the score.

5—4.

The opposing team’s giving them a run for their money and this is probably one of the tightest matches they’ve played all season. She takes a moment to find you in the stands again, and you’re right where she left you, eyes already glued to her as you hover over the edge of your seat.

She hadn’t realized it before, but you’ve got her number painted on her face and another surge of warmth layers over the exertion.

You give her a thumbs up and she feels like lightning.

They reset and she’s off, like a streak of light in the night sky, she’s shuffling the puck towards the goal.

Then you see the navy uniform barreling towards her, voice caught in your throat as Vi gives the puck one last shot before that damned Jersey Number Six shoves her so hard, she’s flinging into the rink’s wall.

The horn chugs, signaling the end of the second period and the stands erupt in a ceremonious cheer as the playback reveals that Vi had sunk the puck before time.

“Fuck yeah!” you cry out, shooting to your feet to clap your hands.

Vi ignores the instigating chants to fight, only really pays attention to your little dance of excitement as she shakes off the other player and rejoins her team for intermission.

“Fuck, Vi, you got it bad, huh?” Abigail Anderson’s spearheading the teasing once they all return to the locker room at the end of the game.

Vi’s body heats at the thought, isn’t really in the business of denying it anymore, because, you know what? Yeah. Vi’s got it so fucking bad for you, she doesn’t even know what to do with herself. You’re her first thought, her final prayer, and everything in between.

So all she does he shrug, can’t help the grin that splits her lips as she rubs her towel through her sweat-damp hair.

She’s the first one out of the locker room, dressed in some sweats and a pullover, towel slung around her neck as she steps into the tunnel. Your contact’s pulled up, and she’s ready to fire off a text asking where you want her to meet you, but she stops short to see you already leaned outside of the change room’s doors.

“Hey, cupcake,” she murmurs, smiling hard when she finds the smudged number 5 still chalked on your face.

“Hi, Violet,” you return shyly, hands clasped behind your back.

She hears the telltale whoosh of the locker room doors, the chattering of her teammates as they poke their heads out into the hall to be nosy, but she’s guiding you along, throwing a wink over her shoulder as the two of you fall into step.

“Thank you for coming,” Vi says after a moment. “You being here really meant a lot to me.”

You don’t know if Vi’s always been this sentimental, but just never given the opportunity to showcase it, or if she’s just buttering you up, but you can’t help but beam at her with pearly teeth and dimpled cheeks.

“God, Violet, you were so good!” you say excitedly, a little skip in your step. “You were in the rink, skating circles around them, like this, and like this.”

She bursts into laughter as you start speeding down the tunnel, dodging garbage bins and jumping up into the air to click your heels.

Something falls out of your little fannypack when you land, and Vi’s crouching down to pick up the tulle baggie to find a little beaded bracelet with a gold clasp that reads puck off.

“What’s this?” Vi asks, and you stop your shenanigans to turn your attention to her.

When your expression falters and you’re running back to her at full speed, she’s holding the baggie up just a little too out of reach for you, grin smug.

“Is this for me, sweetheart?” she asks presumptuously, even though her heart’s thrumming hard in her ribcage.

You’re on your tiptoes, chest pressed against hers, and god, please! is all Vi can think when your head tilts up, a little defeated knit between your eyebrows.

She milks the fuck out of whatever this is, arm banding around your waist as she returns the baggie to you.

“Maybe,” you whisper finally.

“Maybe what?” Vi teases.

“Maybe it’s for you,” you respond, free hand coming to rest on her chest.

“And what do I have to do to get it?” she asks, voice low.

It makes your body jolt hard as a shiver slinks down your spine because there she is, the insufferable flirt who knows exactly what to say to have your brain turn to mush.

You seem like you’re contemplating for a moment and Vi’s breath is hitching in her throat, wondering if you’re willing to play this cat and mouse game with her.

You smile, something glinting in your warm eyes.

“Puck off.”

Your giggle is maniacal as you slip away, leaving her temporarily stunned before she chases you down the tunnel. And she should expect your speed, especially because you’ve got legs, but it takes her a moment to catch up with you when her practice bag’s thumping on her back like that. Her calloused fingers are closing around the flesh of your hips in no time and she’s pulling you back into her arms.

“Cough it up, sweetheart,” she huffs.

You whine.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you counter.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

And you give in because Violet’s made you weak. She’s holding out her wrist as you free the multi-colored bracelet.

You barely clasp the closure in the ring before Violet’s stumbling into you, a big burly girl from the other team shoulder checking the fuck out of her.

“Nice job standing in the middle of the walk way,” she bites.

Violet only snorts a laugh.

“Whatever, good game,” she calls.

Whoever she is, stops, levels Vi with a deadly look before her gaze flits to the bracelet you’ve just fixed around her wrist to you who stands frozen into place as the tension crackles between them.

“Cute,” she observes and your skin prickles. “Let me take her for a spin?”

“Violet,” you warn when her shoulders square and she takes a step forward.

She looks torn between walking away and beating the shit out of whoever this instigator is, but one of her teammates is shoving her along.

“Leave it.”

Whatever that was shatters the moment between the two of you and Vi’s taking in a deep breath as Abby trails behind the two of you.

The girl whistles for good measure and you throw a dirty look over your shoulder.

She winks.

You’ve still yet to find out who hosts these parties, but this time around gives you a weird sense of deja vu as you climb the steps with Maddie in tow.

You and Vi had parted ways at the rink, not before extending you an invite to the celebration later in the evening.

You should come, I can pick you up.

But per usual, DD duties call, and you’d smiled up at her despite the lingering pressure from the prior confrontation and promised her that yes, you’d absolutely be there.

Maddie squeals from the step below as you climb the front porch, breaths coming out in puffs of steam.

“You look so hot,” she says excitedly.

You giggle nervously, sure hope you do because you’re freezing your ass off!

“Yeah?”

Maddie gives you an incredulous look, eyelids powdered with glitter and gaze lined charcoal. She’s looking extra cute tonight too and you know that the two of you could fall into an endless cycle of teasing because a certain someone’s probably inside tonight.

“If she doesn’t fuck you before the night ends, I will,” Maddie teases, and you’re warming unceremoniously at the thought.

Because maybe you’ve been thinking about it a lot more recently despite only going into this trying to get through these tutoring sessions and dipping. Especially as of late now that Vi’s made it a habit to FaceTime you after practice, on your walk to the library, dripping sweat and chest heaving.

You’d always seen the appeal, but now you feel it.

You smooth down your asymmetrical skirt and Maddie steps up to adjust your tits in your lowcut lace blouse just as the door swings open to reveal none other than Violet.

“Oh—” Her voice catches as she takes you in.

Maddie gives your ass a little swat and Vi’s gaze is following the movement as your roommate pushes past her to slip inside.

“I was— I was just about to step out. To, uh, to call you,” she stammers.

You breath out a little laugh.

“Here I am.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Here you are.”

Jesus, fuck Vi could burst into flames right now. Your boots hug your thighs and Violet’s not gonna lie, she really wishes it were her head squeezed between—

“You look...” Hot, so fucking edible, downright fuck— “...really nice.”

You smile, but you can’t help the way your teeth chatters.

“Fuck, shit, you’re probably cold,” she curses, warm hands closing around your shoulders to pull you inside. “Why didn’t you wear a jacket? You’re gonna get sick.”

I wanted you to want me.

“Guess I just forgot,” you say quietly.

She looks like she wants to scold you, but instead, she’s pulling down her coat, a big black work jacket, hanging from the banister of the stairs around your shoulders and you’re relishing the residual warmth that lingers there and her familiar scent.

“Can I get you a cider?” she asks. “It’s still warm.”

It hits you as her fingers curl through yours, that Vi’s truly nothing like what you initially thought. She’s sweet, and she’s respectful, and she’s everything you could ever hope for.

You freeze at the thought, and Vi’s glancing at you when she’s tugged to a stop.

“You okay?” she hums.

Your eyes search her face, gliding over the scar on her lip and the one slit through her eyebrow. The gold hoop pierced through her nose glints under the lowlight and her thick lashes flutter as she looks down at you.

You give her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes because wow, you’re in deep.

“I’m okay,” you assure her, give her fingers a squeeze for good measure.

When she finally secures you a mug of steaming cider, she’s guiding you to her group of friends that occupy the living room.

You only recognize Ellie, her best friend and her roommate, and Abby, the captain. Everyone else is a jumbled mix of names and faces and you stick close to Vi as she settles into the left corner of the couch.

You make a move to sit on the armrest, legs crossed and hands folded around your mug, but Vi’s spreading her legs and pulling you into her lap before you can effectively protest.

Her warmth immediately engulfs you and it takes every ounce of self control not to curl up into a ball in front of all her friends and classmates.

As they recap the game and catch up with each other, you remain hushed, eyes flitting from person to person as they speak. Toes curling whenever Violet’s voice vibrates in her chest as she talks big about sports and the hot teams this season.

You’re caught off caught when Ellie’s directing a question towards you and you barely register.

“What do you like to do?” she asks you.

All eyes audibly shift to where you’re cozied up in Vi’s lap, cider empty and abandoned on the side table.

“Uh.”

Your words are lodged in your throat because you’re so used to talking Vi’s ear off about your interests (namely, Animal Planet and your son Pip), showing her your little craft projects you like to do in front of the television on a weekend evening (you’d taken a break from the scarf / hat combo you were knitting to finish the bracelet you designed for Vi), and yapping about some obscure film you’d watched while finishing said projects.

But here, now, you don’t know what to say. Not when this isn’t your typical crowd and you don’t know what to expect from her friends.

Vi must feel your hesitation because her digits are slipping into her jacket, fingertips ghosting the small of your back as she presses a palm against your spine to smooth the tension there.

It’s okay, is a silent insinuation.

You give her a look from the corner of your eye before you turn your attention back to Ellie.

“I don’t do much,” you offer honestly. “Just starting my old cat lady duties early, I suppose.”

Ellie laughs benevolently.

“You have a cat?”

“Yes, his name’s Pip, and he’s basically my kid.”

“Cute,” Ellie coos. “You got any pictures?”

And you seem to light up, spare Vi one more glance as you dig in her coat pocket to produce your cellphone, charms jangling as you power it back on to show Ellie the lockscreen.

“I contemplated naming him Toothless from—”

“—How To Train Your Dragon!” Abby fills in from across the couch. “That’s such a good ass movie.”

It warms Vi to the bone, seeing you and her friends nerd out. Seeing them put in the effort because they know she likes you and seeing you reciprocate because, well, you’re you, and you just need a little warming up.

She doesn’t know how long you and her friends chat for until you’re shifting a little and turning your attention back to her.

“Can you show me the bathroom, please?”

Her gaze flits to her circle, and they’re smirking, obviously under the impression that this must be some sort of code the two of you concocted.

She ignores them, and most importantly she ignores the way her pulse jumps when you stand from your seat and perch between her legs, offering both of your neatly manicured hands to her.

This is getting fucking ridiculous.

The bathroom is tucked under the stairs near the front of the house and she stands post outside the door as you finish up.

It’s only when you’re poking your head outside the door sheepishly that she stands up straight.

“Can you help me with my zipper?” you ask timidly.

She puffs a laugh, slips in through the space you crack for her to find you holding the two sides of your skirt together.

And she knows she shouldn’t look, but the space allows her to see the pink lace of your panties. She’s shoving her tongue in her cheek, focusing on lining up the seams and pulling up your zipper as you hold the fabric taut.

“Thanks,” you whisper, looking up to see that Vi’s impossibly close to you in this cramped little powder room.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” she croaks, leaning against the counter as you wash your hands.

She thumbs the hem of your skirt absently.

“I like this,” she admits, gaze trailing up to meet yours. “You look pretty.”

Your ears burn, unable to meet the smolder of her steely eyes. You’d probably find that her pupils are blown wide if you did. Instead, you’re watching her mouth, lips stained cherry and tongue coming out to wet the dry patch.

You hold your breath as you reach across her for the hand towel, but her hands find your hips, teetering into dangerous territory as she moves almost close enough to slip her hands under your skirt.

“You’re not gonna say thank you?” she asks, watching you through hooded eyes.

A nervous giggle bubbles.

“Thanks, Violet,” you murmur.

“‘Course,” she agrees easily. “You gonna wear it again?”

You bite.

“If you ask nicely.”

She licks her lips again, body flexed as you allow her to press you closer. One of your hands splays on the counter behind her, the other brushing over the blooming bruise on her jaw.

“Can I?” she husks.

You don’t need to ask for clarification, not when her nose is nudging yours and your breaths are mingling.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Pl—”

The door rattles with the ferocity of whoever’s knocking on the other side.

“Hurry up in there, I gotta piss!”

To your dismay, the two of you don’t talk about Saturday night. And things’s aren’t particularly bad, but something’s definitely shifted and it’s driving you nuts.

Vi’s on the ice practicing the following morning and after classes on Monday, so you wait for your session with bated breath on Tuesday. You try extra hard despite every voice of reason telling you that you’re reading into it too much.

Vi smiles at you easily as she drops into the seat across from you, pulling out her biometry textbook without so much as a peep about the fact that the two of you almost kissed in whoever the fuck’s bathroom that was over the weekend.

You’re staring, hard.

Because that familiar feeling’s coming back. The seedling of doubt that had rooted in the beginning about Vi’s intentions with you. She’d done a good job of weeding it out over the weeks, of dismantling whatever image you’d built of her in your head, but it plants itself again.

She’s squeezing your hand across the table and your gaze flits down to her rough fingers. That’s when you notice it, the bracelet, still fastened where you clasped it on game night.

You relax a fraction.

“Everything okay?”

You smile, something small.

“Yeah, good,” you assure her.

The rest of your tutoring session is uneventful, goes off without a hitch. And you’re shameless in admitting that you hate to see her go as she walks you to your car in the student lot near the library.

You’re grasping at straws, clearing your throat before she closes your door for you.

“Uh,” you squeak. “Do you want to come over?”

Vi’s pausing, hand still on the edge of your door as her lips twitch.

“Like right now?”

You nod because you’ve already pulled the trigger.

“Like right now,” you confirm.

She checks her wristwatch, sighs heavily because fuck yes, she’d love to come over right now, but Anderson and Williams are expecting her for a strategy meeting with the coach and—

“Sorry,” you say quickly. “You don’t have to, I know we only really—”

She pinches your cheek before tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

“I can’t tonight, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” she says. “But tell you what, if you’re willing to free up your Friday night, I’d really like to plan something.”

Your heartbeat skips.

“All yours,” you say without missing a beat.

Vi’s grinning wide.

“Perfect, drive safe,” she bids. “See you tomorrow.”

And you don’t know why you’re so fucking high strung, not when Vi hasn’t done anything to make you doubt that this isn’t all in your head, but it only gets worse as the days go by.

It doesn’t come to a head until Thursday, when your tutoring slots are miraculously empty until Vi’s and you receive an email from Medarda to meet in her office after her string of lectures.

“Afternoon,” the older woman greets, smiling warmly at you as she lets you into her office. “Just wanted to check in with your audit and request any feedback you have.”

You think for a moment before shaking your head.

“Nothing in particular that I can think of,” you say easily, then add with a laugh, “feel like I’ll be a professional by the end of the semester.”

“Why do you say that?” Medarda chuckles as she logs into her computer.

“I have a student sitting every Tuesday and Thursday for tutoring in your class,” you reveal.

She gives you look crossed between surprise and amusement.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You giggle at the distant memory of Vi’s expression in the weight room. “She seems to be picking it up well enough, though.”

“Huh, every Tuesday and Thursday?” she asks, fingers flying over her keyboard. “I must be doing something wrong.”

“I’d hardly say that,” you say. “When Violet booked all my sessions, I thought it was a joke, but I think she’s just really dedicated to doing well.”

“Violet?” Medarda repeats, hands stilling over her mouse.

“Yeah, Violet, on the women’s hockey team?”

Your professor’s eyebrows twitch.

“Why would you— huh. Weird,” she comments.

“I admit it was a little strange, but—”

“Violet’s a consistent top scorer on the exams,” Medarda shares. “She’s been top of the class since the beginning of the semester.”

And it’s like the world stills as she reveals that information, fragile pieces shattering as the gears start turning in your brain and you try to put the puzzle together.

You glance at the clock, find that you’re due to meet Violet in half an hour.

“Uh, if you’ll excuse me,” you say politely, try to ignore the concerned expression etched on your professor’s face at your sudden departure. “It was nice chatting with you. If I think of anything feedback-wise, I’ll be sure to email you.”

And you’re running.

Vi’s in the locker room after practice, toweling off after an extra long shower because she’s been looking a little extra forward to seeing you today, but perhaps that’s everyday as of late.

She’s hooking the bracelet you gave her back on when her phone vibrates and she’s practically diving into her locker when your text tone bleats.

sweetheart: I have to cancel your session this afternoon. I’m sorry.

Her expression screws up.

everything ok? can i do anything for you?

sweetheart: Personal things to take care of. I’ll see you next week.

I’ll see you next week.

But what about tomorrow? She’d been working so fucking hard on tomorrow, on finally pulling her head far enough out of her ass to ask you to give the two of you a shot.

She sets her phone down, slumps down on the bench as she turns her wrist and takes in the smooth glass beads of the bracelet.

She sighs. Hard.

You hole up all weekend long, put your phone on do not disturb, and try your best to get whatever this is out of your system. But you’re a slave to your emotions and you can’t help but check your messages every time you know Vi’s free.

It’s a single text on a Saturday night, one that surprises you because you know she has practice now that the big game’s fast approaching.

violet <3: hey sweetheart, just checking in. i know you said you had a few personal things going on, but i’m here if you feel like you need someone <3

You’re texting back before your better judgement can stop you.

Just been a little stressed. You wanna come over?

.

.

.

Then you add, We can smoke.

Vi’s sending you three running emojis and you crack a smile at your screen before realizing that you need to shower.

You lay out some clothes beforehand, ultimately settling on last Saturday’s skirt.

Vi’s giggling as you fumble with the wrapper, rolling it with clumsy fingers because, truthfully, you don’t do this often, but she shuts right up when you don’t break eye contact as the tip of your tongue slides across the seam to seal the joint.

She’d picked you up with a Sprite and a slice to split from Valentino’s, throat drying as you bounded down the stairs in the same fucking skirt that had her touching herself after she’d gotten home from the party, guilty and wound tight. Now the two of you are tucked away behind some abandoned strip.

“Ready?” Her voice rasps as you pop the end between your lips and she brings the lighter to ignite the end for you.

It burns as you inhale and Vi’s thighs squeeze together involuntarily. She’d smoked with you twice before, both times on the roof of your apartment building and at a reasonable distance. But now, she knows what your body feels like, almost knows what your lips taste like.

You take a few more puffs before offering it to her and the smoke begins to plume to fill the space of her little coupe. It’s moments like these, tucked away from prying eyes, that it’s just you and Vi.

Not Vi, the supposed womanizing hockey star, or you, the nerdy homebody tutor. Just the two of you, two souls trying to get through university and carve your paths.

“I aced Medarda’s exam this week,” Vi says softly, jay pinched between her fingers as she watches you with lowering eyes.

“Oh, yeah? I wonder why,” you quip in return, face impossibly close to hers despite the console between you.

“I have a smartypants tutor that does an especially good job when she’s motivated,” she answers.

Your cheeks flame, but you don’t back down. Vi’s been extra good at pushing your buttons and flirting hard as of late, and maybe you’re a little more than willing to receive and reciprocate, but the two of you have been toeing the line, yet neither of you have taken the leap.

This moment, however, feels like it could be it. Like you’re going to find out what the fuck all of this even is.

“I have to meet this tutor of yours,” you play along. “She sounds like a miracle worker.”

“Among other things,” Vi teases, sucking in the smoke and blowing it through her nostrils.

“Like?”

“She’s also funny as fuck,” she hums. “A big baby when we watch Animal Planet.”

You narrow your eyes at her and Vi lets out a little laugh that makes your toes curl.

“Uh-huh?”

“She’s really fucking pretty too,” she says quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she affirms. “Kind of pretty that makes you wanna do bad, bad things.”

You smile falters as a shiver rips down your spine and before you know it, Vi’s putting out the joint before climbing in the cramped backseat of her car to spread her legs.

Doesn’t even give you a moment to process before she’s pulling you on top of her and allowing you to settle comfortably in her lap. Her hands run up your thighs and disappear under your skirt to grab the fat of your ass.

You breathe out a little giggle as your slender fingers come up to cup her jaw.

“Think my tutor’ll be mad at me?” Vi murmurs, nose brushing yours. “‘Cuz I really, really wanna kiss this pretty girl in my lap right now.”

You let out a broken little sigh when her hips buck.

“Maybe she’ll forgive you,” you whisper. “I know I would.”

And that’s all the affirmation Vi needs from you before she’s taking the plunge and slotting her lips with yours; kissing you with so much fervor, you’d think she needs you to breathe. She tastes like mint and weed and you can’t get enough.

Vi’s all-consuming, her kiss a delicious mix of teeth and tongue. And, god, her hands. Rough and calloused, but gentle in the way she explores your body. It isn’t until she’s snapping the band of your thong and her fingertips ghost the seam of your sticky heat that you’re hyper-focusing.

“Mmmph, Violet, Vi—” Your voice cracks as she breaks from your lips to map a series of kisses from your jaw, to the juncture behind your ear, down the column of your neck. “Wait.”

She stops, hands pulling from under your skirt like you’ve burned her. And perhaps you have, branded nearly every part of her because she can’t really think of a sound moment if you’re not there.

“Sorry, sorry,” she shudders as the arousal ebbs through her tightened body. “I—”

I’m caught up. I’m losing it, and it’s all your fault, and—

“Violet,” you swallow, fingers toying with the collar of her varsity sweatshirt. “I have something to say.”

Her throat bobs and her grey eyes gleam like ash in the lowlight of the backseat of her car. The windows are smoked out and it’s exceptionally warm, equal parts sexual tension and another thing Vi can’t quite pinpoint.

“Yeah, anything,” she assures you, hands resting on your waist instead. “You can tell me anything.”

One of your palms settles over her chest, right where her heart is and you suck in a sharp breath.

“I— uh, I really like you, Violet,” you admit quietly. “A lot more than I think I’ve ever liked someone in a long, long time.”

Oh.

Oh. Here it comes, the big fat rejection. The coming to your senses.

“But?”

The look on your face is devastating and Vi’s scared.

“I have to know that if I give you a chance, you won’t abuse it,” you hiccup, and wow, that’s definitely not what she expects you to say, but fuck does it leave a sour taste in her mouth.

“Abuse it?” she repeats, face crumpling.

“Violet,” you sigh.

“Abuse what?” she husks.

“I know you—”

“Do you?” she scoffs, a wave of irritation washing over her as she looks you with disappointment. “What gave you the idea that I would ever even dream of taking advantage of you giving me a chance?”

“You don’t necessarily have a spotless record, Violet,” you say, voice edged. “And I know that I’m not your usual—”

“Not my usual what?” The venom in Vi’s tone is uncharacteristic, but this is not at all how she expected tonight to go and she’s frustrated. “Not my usual type? You internalized all this shit that people say about me even though I’ve been trying to get you to see me for months.”

Emotion clogs your throat because a small part of you knows that Vi’s right. She’s never given you an outright reason to doubt her interest in you, but it all just seems too good to be true.

“Sue me for wanting to protect myself,” you choke, climbing out of her lap and back into the front seat. “Especially because I know that you don’t actually need help in Medarda’s class.”

And that catches Vi off guard. You see as much in the rearview mirror when she pales.

She clambers back into the driver’s seat.

“Who told you that?” she asks, not even bothering to deny the fact.

“I mentioned that I was tutoring you in passing when Medarda asked for feedback on her class,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. “She asked why I’d be doing that when you’re top of all her sections.”

Violet’s voice is stuck in her chest.

“And then your past hook ups parade around campus like a reminder that—,” you cut yourself off, obviously hurt after bottling this all up. “And it isn’t any of my business, nor are we anything enough for me to plausibly upset—”

“Yes, I lied,” Vi admits quietly. “But only about one thing.”

Your breath catches.

“You’re right, I don’t need help in Medarda’s class. I lied about being clueless and I signed up for tutoring even though I didn’t need it,” she says.

“Why?”

“You know why,” Vi huffs. “From the moment I met you, I knew.”

It’s a glaring insinuation that makes you crack.

“No one ever says it out loud, but I know what everyone thinks,” you choke. “Violet’s fucking that loser?”

“You really believe that?”

“God, Violet, I don’t know what to fucking believe,” you cry out. “My life’s fucking fine and dandy and then you show up and make me fucking question everything I—”

Vi lets out a humorless laugh, can’t even look at you and it could make you sick.

“You’re so fucking loved by everyone, even those who won’t admit it,” you croak. “And you’re incredible at everything you do, turn everything you touch to gold, and I’m just...”

Vi’s brows furrow.

“You’re what?”

“I’m me,” you whisper meekly. “I’m just me and you’re you, and I just don’t see what makes me so different.”

And Vi realizes that she’d read it all wrong.

“Look at me,” she says softly, fingers tracing your jaw.

You knuckle your tears away, make a petulant noise in your throat.

“You wanna know why I booked all your stupid tutoring sessions?” she huffs. “Because I really fucking like you, ________. And it’s beyond wanting to fuck you even though god knows I’d fucking die if you let me. It’s so much more than having you physically. Because I’ll take being just friends with you if it means having you around. I don’t give a shit about anything else but you.”

It’s the most sound declaration you hear from the girl in the semester you’ve known her and it makes you cry.

“You make me feel so fucking normal and you remind me that I don’t need to be anything else but me,” she breathes. “And I get where you’re coming from, I hear you. I just really hope you hear me too.”

“I do,” you whisper. “I’m just—”

Vi squeezes your thigh, takes your hand in hers and brings your knuckles to her lips.

“Let’s get you home, okay?” she offers gently.

Vi only has one more game before the championships and she won’t lie and say that this limbo with you has her feeling like she’s going to be ill.

You’d cancelled her tutoring sessions this week, told her that maybe the two of you needed to spend some time apart and that she was clearly doing a number on you. So she agrees, tries to give you space to work through what’s weighing on you.

sweetheart: Good luck at your game tonight, Violet. I’m rooting for you.

She really wishes you’d be there, but she knows you need the time alone.

thanks, sweetheart. i appreciate you.

“Alright Vi, we have fifteen til puck drop,” Ellie says carefully, has been front row to everything transpiring between you and her best friend.

Vi tucks her phone away in her backpack, unhooks your bracelet from around her wrist and fastens it to the handle of her bag, and grabs her stick from the rack before she lets her teammates jostle her into the tunnel.

And she wishes she could lock in, clear her head and get into the game, but all she can think about is you.

It’s a narrow victory once the game ends, but she can’t find it in herself to celebrate, especially not at the kickback afterwards because fucking Sev and her assholes are there.

“Where’s your little dime piece?” she taunts.

“Fuck off,” Vi warns, obviously not in the mood.

“Shame,” she whistles. “She looks like a fucking weirdo, but she sure does have a fat ass—”

Ellie’s fist cracks so hard across her jaw.

“She told you to fuck off,” she hisses.

Sev spits the blood in her mouth on the toe of Ellie’s shoe, fists bunching the collar of her sweater.

“Keep that fucking energy on the ice because I’m gonna wipe the floor with your fucking pissbaby team.”

You wake up on Monday morning to a text from Vi and a handful of notifications from Instagram.

violet <3: can i see you this week?

You open Instagram.

sev.94 has requested to follow you! sev.94 has sent you a message request!

Your brows furrow, opening the message request hesitantly. There’s a few DMs and a video from this Sev person.

sev.94 hey pretty, sorry to text you like this. sev.94 just thought you should know the kind of person your little girlfriend is sev.94 sent a video. sev.94 i don’t really do relationships, but i’d take your mind off of it if you let me.

You’re playing the video, quality grainy and audio blasted. You don’t know what you’re looking at at first, it’s dark, and there’s so many voices. But you see skin, see the outline of a girl’s naked back, delicate and arched in pleasure.

You think this Sev person’s just fucking with you, playing some stupid joke with a shitty punchline as someone’s hands snake around to palm the flesh of the unnamed girl’s ass, but then you see it.

The bracelet.

Vi going to lose her shit for two reasons.

(1) Because you haven’t responded to her message despite your read receipts being on, and (2) she can’t fucking find the bracelet you’d gifted to her.

She’s barging into Ellie’s room, shirtless and hair dripping.

“Jesus, fuck, do you knock?” Ellie hisses, buds she was in the midst of grinding scattering across the floor.

“I can’t find the bracelet she gave me,” Vi says quickly.

Ellie’s face scrunches.

“Huh?”

“The bracelet ________ gave to me,” Vi says. “I hooked it on my backpack before practice on Saturday but it’s not there anymore.”

Ellie’s expression morphs, eyes narrowing in thought.

“Maybe you misplaced it,” Ellie offers. “Regardless, we practice tonight, I’ll help you look for it.”

Vi’s chest is tight, doesn’t want to admit that the stupid little bracelet means way more to her than she lets on. She only ever takes it off when she’s on the ice, won’t risk losing it when she’s got a target on her back and everyone plays rough.

It turns out to be futile when they enter the rink and she retraces her steps only to come up empty-handed.

This, she realizes, is the start of a very long week.

You should’ve seen it coming, really. Don’t know why you tried to psyche yourself into thinking that Vi could ever really want something with you when the world’s her fucking oyster and she can have anything she wants.

And you want to feel bad when she texts you intermittently through the days, checking in, offering to meet you, anything. But part of you is angry, unforgiving, tired.

You could’ve gone the rest of the school year unscathed if she’d just left you the fuck alone, but she pried and she tugged and she settled, and she made a home inside of you and you hate that you let her.

xxxx: i really miss you.

You block her number, block her social media, and even though finals are imminent, you now know that Vi’s been playing you for a fool this whole time and you cancel every last one of the sessions she’s booked.

You hope she’d get the message, figure that you’d caught onto her little game and aren’t willing to play anymore, but she doesn’t, that much is clear when you’re finishing up your two thirty session and find her stalking into the library just as the student leaves your table.

“Are we going to talk like adults or are you going to keep acting like—”

You don’t entertain a response, just pack your bag and sling the strap over your shoulder because the tears are bubbling and you don’t trust yourself not to break.

“Seriously?” Vi bites, hot on your heels as you throw all of your weight against the library doors and suck in the icy air.

“Leave me alone, Violet,” you warn.

“No, fuck that,” Vi spits, hand closing around your bicep. “You don’t— You don’t get to make me fall for you and then try to leave with no explanation.”

“Fuck you,” you whisper.

“What?”

“Fuck you, Violet,” you hiccup, yanking your arm from her grasp and putting as much distance as you can between the two of you. “I hope you and your friends got a good laugh out of it.”

Her face is screwing up and if she wasn’t confused before, she’s definitely confused now.

“Listen, I can’t fix something if I don’t know what’s wrong,” Vi argues. “I’m so fucking lost right now.”

You hate how believable she is. How the thought of hurting you seems so inconceivable to her. But that grainy video was clear enough.

“I hate you,” you murmur. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

Your name comes out broken, like you’ve wounded her. But you’ve officially folded your hand, won’t dare look her in her eyes because the both of you know it’s not true.

The championships roll in fast like a tide and neither your or Violet are ready for it.

You hear they’re live streaming the game, it’s the most anticipated one in the season. Piltover Stallions against the Zaun City Tigers. A part of you wishes you could support them, but then you’re starkly reminded that you’re a laughingstock amongst them.

The library on a Friday night is as quiet as can be, the hum of the fluorescents background to the voices in your head that are loud. You’re so engrossed in the study material that you don’t realize someone’s making a beeline for you until they’re knocking on the tabletop.

Ellie Williams stands before you in all her lean glory, hands sunk in her pockets as she stares down at you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be playing?” Your tone is clipped, disinterested because you believed that you and Ellie could be friends once upon a time.

“Coach sat me out because I socked one of those dickhead Zaun City Tigers in the mouth last weekend.”

You humph.

“Listen, we don’t have much time left, so I’m going to make this short and sweet,” she says. “Whatever happened between you and Vi is obviously personal and that typically would have nothing to do with me, but she can’t get her shit together because all she can think of is you.”

“And that’s my problem because...?”

“I know that Vi comes off a certain way, but she’s my best friend, like my best friend in this entire shithole of a world, and she’s—”

“No offense, Ellie,” you cut her off. “But if Vi sent you here to plead her case, I think that’s pathetic and—”

“Okay, well maybe if you shut up for three seconds and let me get to my point—”

You close your textbook and shove it in your backpack before standing to signal the end of the conversation.

“Whatever, I don’t have time for this.”

Ellie watches you walk away, takes in a deep breath because wow, you’re a bitch when you’re mad, but she absolutely gets why Vi is whipped.

“Violet’s in love with you.”

And that statement makes you freeze. Tears cloud your vision as your fists tighten around the strap of your bag.

“If you fuck someone else while you’re in love, I want nothing to do with it,” you bite.

Ellie’s brows shoot up.

“Whoa, what?”

“Violet fucked someone else as soon as things got tough, and if that’s the kind of person she is in love, I’d rather be alone,” you say stiffly.

“Respectfully, there’s no way Vi’s interested in getting pussy from anywhere else with how down bad that bitch is for you, but even if she was, I spend over seventy percent of my day with her and know that all she���s been doing the past two weeks is moping over the fact that you handed her ass to her on a silver platter.”

“There’s a video.”

Ellie’s brows must be mingling with her hairline right about now.

She reaches a palm out.

Show me.

You open the DM from sev.94, watching as Ellie’s expression morphs from morbid curiosity to disbelief, to a quiet rage.

She’s handing your phone back to you and grabbing you by your forearm.

“She’s fucking dead.”

When you enter the rink, the ice is tense.

It’s the middle of the second period and the game is tied 3—3.

Your eyes comb the playing area, can’t find Vi’s jersey number in the mix, but finally settle on her on the bench, shoulders terse and obviously on edge.

She doesn’t clock you yet, had given up on the idea of patching things up with you after your last conversation.

“Vi’s been missing her bracelet since practice on Saturday,” Ellie’d told you on the way there, then pulled out her phone to show you the photo she’d taken of Vi passed out in nothing but her boxers on the couch the night of the last game, fucked up and sad. “We went out for like an hour after the game, but that was it. Vi was too fucking in her head.”

The girl from the tunnel, the one who’d been taunting the two of you, you piece together, has been the one behind it all, stirring the pot.

Throughout the end of the second period and all through intermission, Vi doesn’t notice you, too busy trying to get off the fucking bench to survey the crowd.

It’s only during final puck drop in the third period that their coach finally gives in, smacks the back of her helmet and tells her to make him proud that she lifts her head up.

And there, front and center of the student section is you.

Her eyes are wide, body frozen in place as she tries to figure if you’re just a figment of her imagination, but then the horn’s blaring and she’s having to zone back in.

At this point in time, she doesn’t give a fuck if they win or lose, she just needs to get to you.

“Your little bitch looks cute tonight,” Sevika comments wolfishly. “Bet she tastes as good as she looks.”

Vi easily intercepts her pass, cuts between two players as she shuffles it along with practiced precision. She sends the rubber flying and the goalie narrowly misses block.

“Maybe if you played as good as you ran your mouth, you’d wipe the floor with my pissbaby team you big bitch,” Vi calls, resetting in their corner.

And perhaps you’re her good luck charm, the only thing she needed to see to get back into it, because Vi reignites. The adrenaline pumping through her veins fuels every shot, and soon the timer’s buzzing.

7—5.

The roar is deafening, but you’re all she sees in the ocean of cowbells and pompoms.

She barely inches forward before something arcs through the sky and lands before her feet.

Her bracelet.

You watch from the sidelines, the final confirmation as Vi picks up the loop and launches herself at Sevika.

The crowd cheers.

Fight, fight fight!

You don’t know how many swings Vi gets in, just know that she’s flashing you a bloody smile before she skates off the ice.

Ellie emerges from the locker room and you’re perking up.

Most, if not all, of Vi’s teammates had come and gone and you’d been waiting patiently, anxiously, for her to emerge since the end of the game nearly an hour ago.

“She’s the last one in there,” is all Ellie says before strolling off.

“What if...what if she doesn’t want to see me?” you ask hesitantly.

Ellie chuffs a little laugh, doesn’t bother turning as she calls from halfway down the hall, “Find out for yourself, sweetheart.”

Vi’s pulling a tank top over her head as soon as you enter and your cheeks bloom when you catch a split-second of her tits.

She glances up at you, nose bruising and lip busted.

“Hey,” she spares you, stuffing her uniform and skates into her gym bag.

“Hi,” you squeak.

A pregnant pause as you take her in, hesitant to close the distance between the two of you.

“Didn’t think you’d make it,” she observes.

And you don’t really have a bullshit response, know that you had every intention of staying as far away as humanly possible, so you settle on humming your agreement.

“Ellie told me,” she starts. “Why you lashed out on me.”

You swallow.

“And part of me gets it, I really do,” she continues, “but I also thought you had more faith in me than that.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Fuck, Violet, I’m so sorry.”

“I told you to free up Friday night a few weeks ago,” she says, shuts her locker door and slumps down on the bench behind her. “I was going to tell you everything, officially ask you out, but then all that shit happened and it caught up to me.”

You take a step forward, and then another, and another until you’re standing in front of her.

“You have to know that I would never do something like to anyone, but especially not to you,” she says softly, taking your hands in hers.

“I know.”

She brushes her lips against your knuckles, pulls you in closer so that you’re standing between her legs.

“You’re right,” she continues, voice hoarse. “I don’t have a spotless track record, but I meant it when I said that I don’t give a shit about anyone else but you. I would give you anything I can if you let me.”

Your hands rest on her shoulders, her chin resting against the plush of your belly as you look down at her, speechless.

“That night, in the car, you said that you didn’t see what made you so different.”

“I don’t,” you admit.

Vi stands, caging you between strong arms as she drops her face into the hollow of your neck. You shiver when you feel her lips press to the skin there.

“We could start off with the obvious.”

One of her hands rests on the small of your back, pulls you flush so that the only things that separate you are the flimsy fabrics of your clothes. The other grabs a handful of your ass.

“I meant it when I said that you’re the kind of pretty that makes me wanna do bad things.”

You gulp, thighs squeezing as her lips part and she bites.

“Vi.”

“You got a giant brain,” she laughs breathily, fingers coming around the fiddle with your belt.

She kisses you, mouth hot and breath warm. It’s better the second time around, no doubt obscuring you from truly indulging.

“Pl—ease.”

“You’re kind and you’re selfless, and you’re my sweet, sweet little crybaby.”

“Violet,” you sigh breathlessly. “Listen to me.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Fuck me,” you pant. “Please.”

Violet nearly runs two red lights and whips into your neighborhood on two wheels.

The two of you are stumbling up the stairs and she’s spanking your ass on the last step as you fiddle with your keys and try to find the right one under the dim light of the complex hall.

Violet’s already unbuckling her belt as you turn the key, nearly taking you down as she shoves you inside and up against the front door.

“Maddie home?” she breathes.

“Out of town,” you answer quickly, kicking off your sneakers and pulling your sweater over your head. “Visiting her family upstate.”

“Perfect,” Vi hums. “I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on your couch.”

“Oh–”

One of her rough hands comes to cup your tit over your bra, her tongue laving over the other while her free hand makes work of the clasp.

You walk her back to the couch, stand between her knees as she flops back into the seat. Her arms spread over the back as she settles in, legs widening to give you ample room to strip.

Her eyes never leave yours as you easily unclasp your bra and shimmy out of your jeans, leaving you in nothing but a tight pair of little lace panties and pink socks that has Vi wet.

“C’mere,” she rasps, pulling you to straddle her lap.

Her lips immediately latch onto one of your pebbled nipples, tongue hot as her hands wander.

“Fuck.”

“Tell me what you want,” she husks, biting down on the swell of your breast.

And having Violet this close, her touch excruciatingly featherlight and tempting, you wind tight.

“Want you inside of me,” you whimper, fingers fixing around her throat. “Please.”

“Yeah?” she eggs you on, lips brushing yours as her palms settle on your ass. “You want me to fuck you?”

You nod eagerly, hips rolling in her lap as her breath pitches.

“Vi.”

Her nickname puffing from your lips makes her crack. You’re wound in her arms, face in her neck as she peels your thong taut, away from your waiting cunt, and runs her fingertips from your slit down to your clit.

“F...F—uck,” you sigh.

“Holy shit,” she marvels, licking her lips when she easily glides through your folds. “You’re really fucking wet.”

You grind down against her, clothed clit catching against her belt buckle. The cool metal sends a jolt through your pussy and you’re moaning loud in her ear.

And Violet really wants to take her time with you, wants to milk the first time she ever gets to fuck you for as long as she humanly can, but she’s still fully dressed and you’re practically naked, perfect tits pressed to her chest and fat ass in the palm of her hand.

She shifts you further into her, so that she can peek over the arch of your back as she sinks her middle and ring finger three knuckles deep into your needy heat.

“Ah, fuck, Violet.” Your voice breaks as she starts pumping into you, your arousal coating her fingers and the sound of her easily slipping through your pussy reverberating through the living room. “Fuckfuckfuck.”

She kisses your jaw, litters them until she’s catching your lips and licking crudely into your mouth.

You cry out when her fingers slip out.

She’s leaning the both of you forward, easing you from her lap and onto the couch as she takes a moment to shuck her shirt off and pull her belt through the loops in one tug.

You watch her through it all, the way the trim muscles of her biceps and shoulders flex as she leans over you, takes you by the ankles and yanks you until your ass is half-hanging from the edge of the couch.

She kneels before you, strips you out of your thong.

You don’t miss the way she shoves the soiled fabric in her jeans pocket.

“Jesus,” she breathes, gaze fluttering between your eyes and your pussy. “You’re so fucking pretty, sweetheart.”

Your toes curl at the praise, fingers closing around where Vi’s holding your legs apart.

“You know how bad I’ve been wanting to taste your pussy?” she rasps, gathering the lewdest amount of spit to dribble onto your clit. When you don’t answer, she’s freeing a hand to slap your slit.

“Nnngh, fuck!”

“Think I’ve always wanted to have you,” she admits. “But it was that stupid party fucking party and that stupid fucking skirt. God, I would’ve fucked you in that skirt if you let me.”

“Yeah?” you whine breathlessly. “Tell me.”

She’s stuffing you again without warning, curling her fingers in a way that has your back arching off the couch.

“Would’ve bent you over that sink and made you watch yourself while I ate you out,” she says easily.

And it’s so fucking delicious, the nasty shit Vi’s saying to you while she pounds your aching heat; the way she finally gives in and tastes you, sucking on your clit like she’s starved and you’re the only thing that can sate her hunger.

Your fingers curl through her hair as you teeter dangerously over the edge, nails grazing her scalp and tugging when she hits the spot deep inside of you that has you keening for more.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum,” you choke. “Holy fuck.”

You feel Vi grin against your pussy, watch her with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes because the sight of her between your legs in your moonlit living room has your insides twisting hard.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” she encourages you. “Cum all over my fingers. Wanna see you gush.”

“Hah, h—” Your thighs tighten around her head, fingers curled so hard in her hair, she moans in a mix of pleasure and pain. “Don’t stop, Vi, please.”

She moans into your cunt, savoring the heady taste of you as you practically ride her face.

The sound that fills the room is downright filthy, the sight that Vi beholds when she peeks from where she’s devouring you equally so. It’s picturesque, the way she has you writhing. A sheen of perspiration glistens over your flesh as she eats you out and it’s a perfect mix of her tongue and her fingers that send you soaring over the edge.

It’s a pitched whine that echos, the staccato of your shaky breathing that sings like music in her ears as you cum. And hard.

Her lashes flutter against the skin of your inner thighs as she peppers kisses there, her lips slick with spit and arousal.

“Fuck, babe,” she whispers. “That was...”

She can’t really choose a specific word, is just mind blown at the fact that she’d just made you cum so hard and so fast. It makes her tense and tingle, a smug wave of pride washing over her as she starts mouthing a trail from your belly, between the valley of your tits, up your throat, to finally press a chaste one on your lips.

You taste yourself first and foremost, but then you taste everything she’s ever wanted to say to you, all the unspoken words and the things she’d been too scared to share. Feel it in the way her hands are roaming, squeezing, caressing.

You breathe a disbelieving laugh, peck her lips again when she pulls away to brush your hair from your face.

“Vi—” Your breath hitches and your eyes glaze.

“I know, I know.”

You wrap your arms around her shoulders, legs hooking around the narrow of her waist as she bears your weight and picks up your boneless figure.

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.”

The sun is warm against your skin when you wake up the following morning, your bedroom bathed in an orange glow.

You feel bone tired, body sore and muscles tight as your arm sweeps the other side of the bed in search of balmy skin, but instead you’re met with cool sheets and swelling dread.

You sit up quickly, find that you’re still naked, and take a moment to asses your bedroom. The bathroom door’s cracked, light off, and everything else is exactly where you left it.

Everything except Vi.

Oh, you think to yourself.

Almost don’t want to leave your room because your empty apartment will be confirmation enough that Vi really did get the last laugh in the end.

But you force yourself out of bed, shrug on an oversized t-shirt before finding the living room just as still as it had been before the two of you had barreled in the night before and she’d left her mark on you.

The only sign that the entire thing wasn’t just a figment of your imagination was Vi’s belt strewn haphazardly on the coffee table.

You feel hollow, almost numb, and even if a persistent part of your brain was consistently telling you that you should’ve known better, the tears well in your eyes because you’d really hoped Violet was different.

You knuckle the tears away angrily, mind racing far too fast to register the door quietly unlocking and the soft footfalls coming down the hall.

“Babe?”

Your gaze snaps up.

Like a vision, Vi’s standing in the doorway, a handful of plastic bags in tow. She’s wearing her clothes from last night and the puffs under her eyes make her a little worse for wear.

She sets the bags down on the eat-in, rounds the couch to take you by the shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” she worries. “What’s going on?”

You hiccup, crumpling in her arms because you were so fucking scared.

“Thought you left,” you croak.

Vi breathes a sigh of relief, blowing out a hollow laugh because her girl’s such a baby.

“You have jack shit in your fridge,” she teases lightly. “How am I supposed to make you a five star breakfast with greek yogurt and carrot sticks?”

You whine.

“Don’t care about breakfast,” your muffled voice sounds from where your face is pressed in her chest. “Just wanted to wake up to you.”

Violet groans.

“You’re so cute,” she laughs, kissing the top of your head.

“I wanna go back to bed,” you mutter petulantly, emotional whiplash making your eyes droop.

“You’re not gonna let me make you breakfast?” Vi picks, smoothing the hair from your face.

Your eyes catch the bracelet refastened around her wrist and you grin softly, taking her fingers to press a kiss to her palm.

She could combust, gaze gooey as she watches you watch her.

Yeah, Vi has a huge problem.

One that’s particular, and overarching; one she doesn’t think she can go without.

And frankly, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

neng © 2024

[gutsby]

Father Figure

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Parents’ Weekend looks a little different this year with Joel showing up in the place of your father.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Dad[dy] kink. Age gap. Oral (m!receiving). Premature ejaculation (Joel cums in his pants while he’s kissing you AS REAL LOVERS DO). Drinking and drug use. Gratuitous dad rock references.

Note: We all saw that video. This was begging to be written.

Another note: For a more immersive read of the pregame, listen to my freshman year Kegs & Eggs playlist (yes, it sucks).

Word count: 19.0k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Freud would’ve had a field day with this shit.

Really, there was no sane explanation for the obsession that seized you and your friends come Parents’ Weekend every year. But there it went. Again. Like clockwork, all the forty- to fifty-something fathers arrived for their first meal on campus. Like the cock-starved coed she was, your roommate bumped your shoulder as you walked and nodded to the first set of families approaching the dining hall. Out of the pack, you spotted four grey heads.

“Would, would, would, and would,” Aly observed, almost clinically. Her strides were long and resolved in their path

“That one could get it.” Her brother shrugged on your other side. He tipped his chin up, then added: “Look.”

And look you did. The batch of men, women, and all their college-aged children struck you as little more fun to ogle than your average wall of paint waiting to dry. Though the moms and dads were, admittedly, the kind of attractive you rarely saw outside an L.L. Bean magazine—as were all the rest of the kempt and polished crowd that populated your school—you were hungry as fuck. You’d agreed to join your roommate’s family for the kickoff banquet of the weekend, and you needed food. On top of that, you’d sworn off middle-aged men forever.

Aly and her brother didn’t know that, though, so you played the game and trudged ahead. When a handsome blue-eyed man born in 1970-something stood back and held the door open for your trio going in, you had to fight back a smirk at the look Aly gave him after thanking him.

“Oh, he wanted me bad,” she hissed once safely inside.

“Looks a bit like Rob Lowe,” you offered noncommittally.

“What about your dad? Is he gonna be here tonight?”

That last fragment of conversation had come from Aly’s brother, and the curiosity in it was sincere. Then he’d wiggled two dark brows your way and said he bet your dad was a silver fox like no other, and you’d had to roll your eyes before strolling into the wide open dining area. You were late; the food, evidently, was all already served.

“My dad’s at home with a broken femur, so…no,” you answered slowly. Starting to weave your way through a sea of round tables and following Aly’s lead as you did, “Probably not your type. Just old. Very embarrassing.”

You stuck your index in your mouth and pantomimed gagging, and the sophomore beside you just laughed.

“Yeah? Desperate, too?” he challenged.

“Pathetic, really,” you replied.

For a second, you felt a pang of guilt at the way you were describing your father. Surely he couldn’t deserve being characterized like that. Then you recalled how he’d boned your mom’s best friend while he was married, had never really made amends after the fact, and was still fucking said mistress’s brains out on the reg to this day.

You’d done plenty of wrong behind his back, to be sure, but that kind of took the cake for fucked up betrayals. He could stand for a little bit of ribbing every now and then.

Presently, Aly was paving the way straight toward a pair of bright and beaming faces at a table near the back.

“Our parents named us after a goddamn Grateful Dead song and the city they first saw the band in concert. Nobody does pathetic better than Scott and Michelle.” She waved her arm in a wide arc and grinned over there.

And you would’ve gladly countered that no, that actually makes them very fucking funny and cool, but the chance to do that was gone in a moment—the next had you approaching their table and meeting with big hugs.

Even for you, who had never seen these people before in your life, there was a warm welcome. You got long, suffocating embraces and cheery greetings of, ‘Oh, you must be Aly’s roommate!’ and ‘We’re sorry you got stuck with our shithead kid’ before you had a grin plastered on again and were being ushered to sit down.

You took note of the little placards opposite each chair, counted four, five, six of them altogether, with an empty spot beside your own, per usual, and you took your seat.

“Dallas, honey, I love you,” the woman across the table, Michelle, said with all the restraint she could conjure up, “I love you to pieces, but what the hell are you wearing?”

That steered the conversation in a decidedly light, playful direction from the start, with Aly’s brother defending his decision to be decked out in full school-sponsored athleisure tooth and nail. He’d been recruited to play lacrosse, so naturally, wearing the far-too-tight crimson lycra was all part of the deal. Aly insisted that he just wanted to show off the biceps he didn’t have, Scott hypothesized it was the crisp, wintry Boston air that had made his son dress like a total douche, and Dallas tried bringing the inquisition to a speedy end by lifting one middle finger up and flipping his napkin into his lap.

“Fuck you guys, I’m hungry,” he declared, emphatic. Fighting the urge to laugh along then grabbing a fork.

Just as fast as he’d picked it up to dig in, though, his mom was slapping the silver utensil out of his hand.

“Not yet,” she chided.

“Why? We’re all here,” Dallas groaned.

“Because,” his father returned, scrubbing at the stubble on his chin before casting a quick look around him, “We’re still waiting on one more to join us. See?”

With that, Scott nodded toward the card next to you, and immediately, your cheeks warmed. You shook your head, mouth working a little less fluidly than you would’ve liked as you piped up and told them—assured them all, rather:

“My dad’s not coming. He got a little, uh…hurt at work.”

And you were certain that would be the end of it. You’d just moved to grab a fork yourself, eyeing the plate full of food in front of you then, when another hand stopped you on the spot. It was Aly beside you, grip insistent as she gave your wrist a little shake, and in your periphery, you could see her tilt her head the opposite direction.

She was staring, silent—totally unlike herself.

Normally when something crossed her path nearby to make her twist her whole fucking neck to get a glimpse, it was followed by a dry remark. A comment, a compliment, or a lewd invitation to fuck me, please.

While the last of the three clearly wasn’t an option to use around her parents, you at least would’ve expected to hear something. When nothing came, you turned your head too, having just snagged a bite of roast beef on your fork and shoveled it in before looking that way.

You followed her gaze and nearly inhaled the food.

With a startled gasp and a ‘Christ!’, your eyes widened to find a man who wasn’t your father at all—just his best friend and your ex-fuckbuddy, Joel Miller, walking over.

It was a sight you weren’t prepared to see in a million years. What the everliving fuck this man was doing two thousand miles from Austin, Texas, on your college campus, striding into the very first meal of Parents’ Weekend, looking like that, was so far beyond your comprehension you couldn’t speak. You just stared and sucked in the sharpest, strangled breath, fought back a cough, and tried not to die swallowing a cube of meat.

From the way that man was approaching you now, asphyxiation might not be the worst, you thought idly.

Joel’s here.

Joel’s here, and he’s wearing slacks and a button-up.

Joel’s wearing business casual, and he’s walking over.

Who the fuck does this man even think he’s trying to—

“Sorry I’m late,” Joel cut in, smile bright and easy on his face. Then, stepping behind your chair, leaning down:

“Hey, sweetie. How are ya?”

He kissed the top of your head.

The tone sealed his fate completely.

Joel was pretending to be your father.

This wasn’t his brightest idea.

Call him sick, insane, selfish, besotted, or rotten straight down to his core, Joel Miller was no longer one to care. He had a goal in his head. Less than a week ago, you’d left him high and dry in Austin after having told him you loved him—in the middle of climax, but aloud, no less—and the month before that, you’d left him again. Back to college, where you could happily pretend he didn’t exist.

Tonight, he wasn’t letting that happen. This weekend, Parents’ Weekend, was of course reserved for families, but Joel knew your father wasn’t coming. He knew you wouldn’t be expecting your dad or anyone else to be there, and since you’d taken to the usual course of ignoring all his calls and texts, he felt he’d had no choice.

You couldn’t stay closed off like this forever.

Eventually, you’d both have to reckon with what this was and how to move forward, or the mess of the last month would never change. You would never believe he saw you any differently from a one-off hookup or a taboo outlet of pleasure. And if that was all you saw him as, so be it. But he had to get the truth of it out now, one way or another.

Even if he had to roleplay the father figure and play the most fucked up game of paternal charades known to man, he’d get the answers he needed this weekend.

You were good at games. Unfortunately, Joel was better.

He’d take this fake-out to the max and be the best faux father you’d never asked for. Maybe you’d hate him for it.

As he’d squeezed your shoulder and sat down beside you at the table, felt your gaze heavy and stunned on his, he also couldn’t help but hope you might still love him after.

“Scott Ingram. Pleasure to meet you.” The broad hand had been extended his way before he was even fully seated. The face across from him was kind. Intrigued. Tinged with a faint trace of curiosity, “So you’re dad?”

“Stepdad, yeah.” Joel had had to leave a bit more room for plausibility before he’d made his formal introduction.

Then he’d met Michelle. Aly. Dallas. The latter two more piqued with interest than the first, as though unsure of what they’d just been told, but willing to go on anyway.

“Old and pathetic my ass,” Dallas had murmured your way, low enough for Joel to know those words were meant for only you to hear. You stiffened in response.

“So glad you could make it up! Is your leg doing better?”

Aly had smiled warmly over at him, and Joel had only hesitated a second. Then he remembered his friend.

“Oh, my— yeah. Just…peachy. Yeah. All healed up.”

He didn’t flit a look to you; he could feel the searing imprint of your gaze and the way you hadn’t bothered to hide your frown when he’d referenced the leg he’d never broken. The way you could’ve pulverized the napkin in your lap to dust from how hard you were squeezing it in your fist—you didn’t like to admit it, but that was your nervous tic, and Joel knew it well. He propped his elbows on the table and didn’t miss the way a head turned his way from a neighboring group. Then another. He hated every starch white button-up he owned with a burning passion, but he couldn’t deny this one was eye-catching.

Not that it mattered, really, because the only glossy gaze he cared to snag was presently nailing him with daggers in its path. Still, it was a comfort to know he’d make a good-looking corpse if that look of yours ever did kill him

“Oh, my, my, oh hell YES—”

The sing-song trill of a baritone beside him roused him from his trance. He looked over and saw Scott grinning.

“—honey put on that pa-a-a-a-a-arty dress!”

It was Michelle that finished the line for him, while they both bobbed their heads along to the Tom Petty song blasting overhead. Evidently, dad rock would be alive and well all weekend. Joel wasn’t mad to see that happen.

“You a Tom Petty fan?” Scott jerked his chin up to him.

Before he could answer, though, Michelle interjected:

“I’d say he’s more of a Simon & Garfunkel guy.”

Whatever the hell that meant. Joel smiled.

“Mom, Dad. Please stop,” Aly moaned.

“Seriously.” Dallas’s mouth was full.

And, just as he fought to swallow the heaping glob of food he’d just crammed in, his dad snapped his fingers.

“No, I know it! You’re a Billy Joel man, Joel. No doubt.”

Joel blanched as white as the shirt on his back. You coughed. He hadn’t even noticed you’d chanced a bite of food beside him, but now you were sputtering—choking on a morsel of beef or mashed potatoes or something—and he didn’t think twice. He pivoted right to you and dropped a hand on your back in the space between your shoulder blades. He patted you twice, eyes a little wider.

“Hey, you OK?”

Fleeting memories of a night not too long ago flashed through his mind: driving town by town, state after state, blaring Billy Joel extra loud in his Bronco with you riding shotgun. It had been something special between you then. Now, your gaze was on him like you despised him.

“I’m fine,” you answered, tone clipped.

You shrugged his touch away. Joel blinked back to Scott.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he said, thoughts occupied by you all the while, but he reckoned it was something his neighbor had wanted to hear, because he saw a satisfied little smile cross his lips, ‘I told you, Michelle.’

“Everybody likes Billy Joel, dad.” Aly rolled her eyes.

And Joel would’ve liked to look your way again. Maybe dropped the fatherly moue for half a second and flashed an apologetic look shared just between you and him. But then the conversation shifted; the whole table began to eat, more pleasantries and questions about home life and backgrounds followed, and all the talk from there converged on where they were planning to go out after dinner—how they’d make the very most of Parents’ Weekend. You sat back and ate in silence, mostly. You wouldn’t meet his gaze for even a moment, and when you rose from your seat to get another drink, Joel felt himself stand too, as if out of habit. He hadn’t meant to.

It hadn’t been his intention to follow you out of the dining area, strides swift to try and keep up, but he did.

It hadn’t been his goal to corner you by the soda dispenser, either. Away from the eyes of everyone else, or at least in a private enough space not to be seen by too many people, Joel felt a little more at liberty to talk. He lowered his voice and drew even closer then to speak.

“Sweetheart—”

You’d filled a cup halfway with water. As soon as he’d said that word, ‘sweetheart,’ you turned and chucked its contents directly in his face. Liquid splashed up at him, and for a second, Joel had only to stand there with his eyes closed and his body completely frozen in place.

Water dripped in silence before he wiped at his chin.

At the same time, you were tossing your cup aside.

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ call me that,” you growled.

Then, shortly: “What the fuck is your problem?!”

Honestly, he didn’t know. He opened his eyes.

And, just as he raised both hands in a semi-conciliatory kind of gesture, you scowled and backed away from him.

“You’re sick, Joel. Pretending to be my goddamn da—”

“I know. I know,” Joel winced as he spoke, wrinkles no doubt creasing even deeper along his face as he saw yours fall. You weren’t happy to see him in the slightest. “I know it’s fucked up. I just…needed to talk to you, hon.”

“About what?!”

He could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. He wanted to cup them in his hands, or else kiss the frown off your lips in a way that would be totally inappropriate for a stepdad to do, but already, he sensed his resolve was eroding. It didn’t matter, anyway, because you weren’t letting him get within an inch of you, based off your look.

“Darlin’,” Joel sighed, “There’s just so much—”

Of course, the next moment was punctured by a voice. His words were cut short; you were both forced to turn.

“It’s all settled now,” Aly declared with cheery conviction. She snagged a cup and started filling it up with Sprite, “Pregame at Dallas’. Seven Oaks after. Lucky’s after that. Maybe a brief intermission at The Alley, if you’re up for it. Afters at A.J.’s, probably. Depends what the vibe is like.”

Joel had barely processed half of what was said, and it still sounded like a lot from where he stood. He blinked.

Then Aly’s eyes fell to his collar, and she lifted a brow.

“You got a little…drinking problem there, Joel?”

He glanced down at the mess on his shirt and tried to smile with her. It was hard to fight the color jumping to his cheeks simultaneously. He scrambled for the words.

“Oh, uh—”

“Dad’s real smooth with it,” you cut in, suddenly, like the paternal moniker was nothing at all. You didn’t look back, “I’m fine drinking wherever. Your parents coming, too?”

Aly’s grin stretched even wider. It looked devious.

“They wouldn’t miss this bingefest for the world.”

At just the intonation of those words, Joel’s pulse sped up. He saw a knowing look pass between you and your roommate, and in a second, he sensed he was fucked.

He really shouldn’t be drinking tonight.

A hundred shots probably wouldn’t have been enough to kill it—this ringing in your head hurt like a motherfucker.

Joel wanted to talk.

Of course he wanted to talk.

Just on his terms, on his time, with your closest friends and their family members all assuming he was your dad.

Because that made a lot of fucking sense.

You’d meant to split from Joel the second you showed up. Dallas’ off-campus house was many things, but small and quiet were not among those descriptors, and you planned to use all of its space to your advantage tonight.

Simply put, the place was a glorified playground for college degenerates. Afforded the distinct honor of housing eight members of the Pi Kappa Alpha fraternity in 2,700 square feet for over fifty years, the Craftsman home was no small wonder to anyone who saw it standing today: the house was shit. Dallas loved it.

You’d enjoyed it, too, for at least the first year or two of college. Then you’d wisened up to the antics of a few too many numb-skulled Pikes, got tired of listening to the same ten tracks being blasted in your ears every other weekend, and decided you’d just stick to the bar scene, where at least patrons were prohibited from standing on elevated surfaces and breaking bottles over their heads.

When Dallas rushed, and eventually joined the fold last year, you’d been hesitant to go back. Then, when he’d promptly decked the first guy who tried dragging you up onto a table with him, you figured you could safely visit again and not have to worry while your friend was there. The kid did a pretty good job of weeding out assholes.

“My lady.” He stood and bowed before presenting you with a fifth of Pink Whitney like it was the finest wine.

The bottle was half empty. You’d been passing it back and forth for the last hour in between rounds of pong.

“Been sayin’ shit like that ever since he saw Gladiator II.” His housemate Cory called from closeby. He flicked his wrist once and sank his shot in the second to last cup.

“You are not General Acacius, brother,” Cory’s teammate Pete chimed in. With a lucky throw of his own, he hit the final Red Solo cup and shook his head like it was nothing.

You were all on the third floor, away from the noise downstairs. While the so-called ‘pregame’ surged ahead on first, in the basement, and outdoors, you’d managed to find relative quiet among eight or nine friends and acquaintances, plus a guy railing lines off a frisbee in the corner. Nobody knew where the fuck he’d gotten it from.

“I like to pretend,” Dallas said with a shrug. Then, once you’d taken a swig of the pink drink and handed it back: “My parents play next. Gavin, put the coke away, please.”

Gavin sniffed the air at least four times like he had a cold. Then he tucked his credit card back in his wallet, put the wallet in his pocket, and knocked the frisbee on the floor.

‘Yessir’ was all you heard before he was leaning back contentedly. The girls Cory and Pete had just played seemed equally indifferent as they sauntered off—likely looking to get their hands on whatever the hell else the redhead had in his jeans and quick to forget about the game. Blow was way too easy to spread at these parties, and clearly, no one gave a shit about redemption round.

“Gavin.” Dallas’ tone was a warning.

At the same time, his housemate had just snagged an ID where it was left on the table and held it up to the light.

“Hang on, it looks like this guy, uh…” Cory squinted to read the text on an apparently too-old driver’s license. “Looks like he called dibs on next round…Joel Miller.”

Your grip tightened on the spot. You said nothing. Cory was just then starting to remark that this dude’s the spittin’ fuckin’ image of that one guy from Game of Thrones, Dallas, come look, when the door to the room swung open, and in walked the man of the hour himself.

Joel was joined by Scott, Michelle, and a horde of others.

Well, maybe five in total. They were all freshmen girls.

Giggling, grinning freshmen girls who were quite literally hanging off his body on either side, or else trailing behind him, admiring him like he was the single greatest thing.

Where were all their fathers? That was your fake dad.

Christ, that sounded bad, and you hadn’t even said it.

When Dallas offered you the bottle again, you declined. You were more than just buzzed. And Joel was drunk.

Apparently.

And was he—well shit, were they trying to strip him?

One of the bubbliest girls from the group was tugging on Joel’s shirt. Three buttons were already undone, and a smooth, tanned patch of flesh glistened through the ‘V’ in the fabric. He’d been working up a sweat downstairs.

A sea of black-and-grey hairs peeking out through the trough of cotton was the last thing you saw before you had to look away. It was too familiar. And there you saw some girl fresh out of high school, feeling him, teasing at the material while she bounced on the balls of her feet.

“You are so lying!” she slurred, voice pitchy and shrill.

What was worse, you couldn’t even fault the girl for it. That had been you just a few short years ago, hadn’t it?

Beside her, her friend snagged his sleeve: “Show ussss!”

Scott and Michelle had approached the table where Dallas was setting up the cups for the next round and you were trying not to stare. You reckoned you were failing pretty miserably at the task when the next thing Mrs. Ingram did was lean in closer to you and whisper.

“Real hot commodity with the girls, isn’t he?” It was soft.

She was right.

You forced your gaze to your feet, pretending to assess the wet and sticky mess underneath them. You hummed.

“Yup. Real ladies’ man,” you answered quietly. Strained.

“They’re convinced he’s got some ink hidden under his shirt. That’s a creative way to get a man topless if I’ve ever seen one.” Scott chuckled next to you, tone teasing.

Something twisted in your chest, though you couldn’t quite place what it was. It hardly felt like jealousy at all—but that was worse, somehow. Joel was your stepfather in every other mind but yours and his, and here he was, soaking in all this attention that you couldn’t give to him.

Maybe that was for the best.

Joel deserved a woman he didn’t have to love in secret.

“OK, who’s up—Joel or mom and dad?” Dallas asked.

“I’m out. Joel can take my place. And don’t we—”

Pete snapped his fingers, then pointed at Cory.

“We forgot to grab the other keg, didn’t we?”

“Fuck me.”

“Let’s go.”

They were gone in a second. That left Joel, Scott, Michelle, plus one open spot. Dallas set the last cup.

“Who’s gonna be Joel’s partn—”

“ME!”

That had to have come from three girls, at least. One on the couch and two more on either side of Joel, along with a slew of hopeful looks from others in his orbit.

They’d dispersed some, thankfully. Though not physically clinging to your pseudo-stepfather and begging him to peel off his shirt, they stayed close.

One of them giggled and nudged her friend: “Maya can!”

The girl who’d just been playing tug-of-war with the front of Joel’s button up waved her hand in mock indignation.

“I suck at pong. You go, Claire,” she crooned.

It was clear from the sideways glance the first girl had flashed that she wanted Joel to protest. Maybe insist that she play anyway, if you had to guess. It was all so confusing—what with how this group was flirting, and fighting, and insisting simultaneously that they couldn’t possibly play, even though they’d like to, but maybe…

Your skull started ringing again.

You were just about to turn to leave, when Dallas cut in:

“Sorry, ladies. Gonna be a Daddy-Daughter duo tonight.”

Then he gestured to you, beckoned to Joel, and grinned. Your stomach could’ve plunged to that floor you’d just been pretending to study. You quickly jerked your head.

Even Joel, for all his calm and unaffected dealings, the pretty damp mop of hair hanging in ringlets against the sides of his face, and the way he kept pretending not to be concerned by the flock of girls, had to pause a beat. You saw his throat work. Before you could try and decipher the look that was crawling up his face, you made the split-second decision to interject yourself.

“No, Dallas. I’m not playing again.”

You tried to avoid grinding your molars.

This time, the tone he heard wasn’t one of a thinly veiled acceptance—something begging to be disputed when it tried to decline the offer—but instead an emphatic ‘no.’

No way were you playing another game with this man.

Joel already had your head fucked ten ways to Sunday by being here at all, and now you had to pretend to be platonic, his goddamn beer pong partner, while a gaggle of freshmen girls sat frothing at the mouth for his dick?

Yeah, but no.

Hard fucking pass.

You didn’t care what it looked like. You shot Dallas a look, grabbed a stray Solo off the table, and made your way to the door, calling something over your shoulder about being too tired to play, and offering your spot to Maya.

That should make your old man happy enough.

It wasn’t like he could do anything here with you.

And then you left. Before you did, though, you passed Gavin and the mysterious white bag he was starting to fish out of his pants, and without thinking, you grabbed his hand. You didn’t like doing coke, had never seen the point in taking your level of intoxication that far out on an ordinary night, but, all things considered, this evening was anything but normal. You deserved some relief. If that couldn’t come in the form of Joel packing all his shit and leaving, then so be it. But you weren’t about to hang around and play the nice and polite stepdaughter when all you wanted to do was scratch your fucking eyes out.

A few lines wouldn’t be the worst way to start the night.

Joel wasn’t drunk.

He wasn’t tipsy, either.

And even if he had been, he wouldn’t have appreciated the way this hazel-eyed firecracker had nearly crushed his toes from how hard she’d jumped up and down at hearing you abdicate your position. Maya had shrieked, and Scott and Michelle hadn’t been able to fight back smiles, and trying not to wince too hard, Joel had politely excused himself. He’d claimed that he needed some air.

The oxygen he found down the hallway a few minutes later was stale as shit, but he couldn’t exactly complain.

He’d asked for this, after all: the thumping bass, shaking floors, passageways that reeked of weed and cheap perfume, and girls that refused to let go of his neck.

Well. He hadn’t asked for that last thing.

Thirty years ago, he might’ve found it cute—what Maya and Claire and every other glossy-gazed Phi Mu seemed to be offering with every bat of their lashes. Now, if the arms latched around his throat weren’t yours, the idea just made him sick. He cleared his throat and walked.

And before long, his feet had carried him to the end of the hallway. Where in the hell had you gotten off to?

Would you be back soon?

And why had you taken that kid with you?

Joel’s palms were sweaty by his sides. He didn’t like being kept in the dark—didn’t think traveling some 2,000 miles to be closer to you would still leave him wondering like a fucking idiot if he would see you again.

Then he reached for the nearest door. A bathroom.

The door was just cracked, allowing a sliver of light to shine through and a peek at a sea of tile flooring to greet him. Joel pushed on the knob without thinking to knock.

When he stepped inside, he had to stop.

It was too much to process and walk at once.

For the first time in his life, he felt shell-shocked.

You were on your knees in front of that red-haired fucker. Stabilizing one hand on a denim-clad leg in front of you, patting his thigh, having him murmur something back—probably words of encouragement for how nice your mouth felt around him—and then tilting your head up.

Joel could only see you from behind. His vision was red.

“What the fuck are you DOING?!” he bellowed out.

The two of you leapt apart, your head jerking back.

He wasn’t thinking. Joel blew straight past you and went for him, the little pencil-dicked Pike who’d just had his dick down his stepdaughter’s throat, presumably, and he grabbed him by the shirt. He shoved him hard against the bathtub on the wall, watched him flail a few steps, and then, before the kid could recover his balance, Joel shoved him again. He might’ve tripped further back and fallen into the tub, had the older man not reached for him again—and reared back to punch him square in the face.

That blow never landed.

In the next instant, a smaller body was forcing itself in between him and the kid, and the only other thing Joel could see through his own blinding rage were your two eyes—wide and panicked and horror-stricken, clearly.

“JOEL.”

Still not prepared to retreat, Joel reached out again.

Your hand knocked his down in a blink. Hard.

“J— Dad. Dad. Stop. Please don’t hit him.”

Suddenly, that tone was approaching a plea. You must’ve caught a glimpse of the rage pulsing through his veins and sensed it might’ve been too much for him to control—but of course, Joel knew better. He could always stop.

He stepped off and turned to you at once, teeth bared.

“How the fuck could you even—” he started again.

“I’m sorry, dad,” you broke in, words sounding like a sob, “It’s not his fault. Really. I— I didn’t mean for you to see.”

Sucking some other guy’s cock. Yeah, of course not.

Joel’s face flared with an anger unlike anything he’d felt in years, and if it weren’t for the skittish sack of shit stumbling away, and the warning that was starting to radiate off your skin, he would’ve liked to knock him out.

He might’ve, if the kid hadn’t run out of the room.

If you hadn’t turned slightly, he might’ve yelled again.

And then he saw it, from where you’d pivoted—the toilet.

Sitting on the smooth white porcelain lid in three thick stripes, the sight greeted him like a punch in the gut.

He wasn’t sure what it meant for an excruciating second. He stared. Then he processed what that substance was.

You’d been crouched over the toilet doing a line of coke.

He wanted to feel relief. For a moment, maybe, he did.

When your eyes narrowed on his and you shook your head in a scowl, it didn’t feel like he should be happy. Or ready to celebrate this latest discovery. Instead, realizing that you hadn’t been blowing a guy in this bathroom but were simply doing drugs in front of him, Joel felt bile jump up his throat. It was like a knot the size of his fist, and he wasn’t sure how to react, but he couldn’t stand that look on your face. You were just as angry as him.

“What the hell was that all about, Joel?!” you snapped.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut back in:

“Sorry, sorry—I mean ‘dad.’ You fucking asshole.”

“And this is why you up and left?” Joel hissed.

“I just—”

“Do you realize how dangerous that is?”

“I didn’t—”

“What that could’ve been laced with?”

He pointed to the cocaine on the lid of the toilet—apparently there hadn’t been enough space on the skinny porcelain sink to set up your lines—and at the same time, to Joel’s amazement, you sank to your knees.

“Well, I don’t know, dad, why don’t we test some out?”

And then you swiped a casual touch through a line and lifted your index to your mouth. With your other hand, you pulled at your bottom lip a little, and were evidently about to test your drugs the old fashioned way: by rubbing the powder against your gums to see if it made them numb. Joel swatted at your wrist before you did.

“Don’t,” he growled. Without even realizing it, he reached and grabbed your chin. His fingers engulfed half your face in an authoritative, upward-tilting grip. “Put that stuff anywhere near your mouth, and you will regret it.”

That didn’t seem to stir you, but your hand stayed put.

Joel stepped away just as quickly. He went to the door.

He shut it.

And when he returned, you hadn’t moved from where you’d been knelt. He was glad. Something quiet and dull throbbed between his ears, though he wasn’t recovered enough from the shock of the last few minutes to really investigate that. He just stood back over you, frowning.

His voice was lower when he spoke again:

“What am I gonna do with you, honey?”

It was a question as much for himself as it was for you, and your lips twitched at the end of it. You shrugged, and you sank back onto your heels, peering up as you did.

“You thought—” you started, soft.

“I thought you were in here blowin’ that little shit.”

Your smile split into a grin. Your eyes glistened.

“Is that so?”

Joel didn’t have the strength or the presence of mind to answer, so instead, he just nodded. His scowl deepened.

“You and me,” he resumed, having just exhaled a breath, “We’re gonna have ourselves a little chat later. Got that?”

And he meant it. Not just about drugs and other men and the dangers of accepting cocaine from strangers. He had more to tell you tonight than his overwrought mind was likely capable of sharing right now, but he’d say it.

Soon.

Eventually.

Once he got this bulge in his slacks sorted out.

With you, it was never a conscious decision, and it rarely ever occurred at times it was appropriate to happen. Like when your friends and their family and half of the Pike fraternity weren’t all milling about around this house. When he hadn’t almost decked a kid for giving you coke.

When you weren’t shuffling on your knees to greet the growing erection in his pants with a grin on your face.

“Will this ‘chat’ come before or after you fuck Maya?”

That was it.

Joel seized hold of your head again—this time, from the back. One palm rounded the base of your skull and yanked your face forward, mushing your nose and your lips against the fabric of his pants in an obscene sort of kiss. He made you rub your face against the hardened tent there, and he groaned when you whimpered. The reverberations of it traveled from his groin to his brain in two milliseconds flat and made him think insane things.

Like having your mouth right now.

Taking from you here what he thought he’d almost lost.

The sight of your head hovering anywhere near another man’s crotch made it crystal-clear to him, though he’d known it well before: he wanted you. He needed to have you. How you could even crack the joke about a shred of his attention being elsewhere had him tightening his hand in a fist in your hair. He didn’t care if it felt wrong.

“You know what girls like Maya can do for me?” he said.

He tilted your head back so your gaze could find his. He didn’t let you answer, but he let you stare for a second, and then he worked your pretty parted lips over the front of his slacks again. He let the taut grey fabric tease the cusp of that opening, tasting a bit, before drawing back.

“That’s right,” Joel went on as if you’d just responded, “Nothing. Absolutely fuckin’ nothing. Open your mouth.”

And you did. Wider. From the look of it, there was spit pooling inside, and your tongue hovered just within it when your lips met the front of his pants. You cupped your mouth around his clothed erection and kissed it.

Your eyes were locked on his as you did. The sight felt extra obscene—Joel couldn’t ignore the fact that he was dressed in near-formal attire, and you had on jeans and a tight cropped tank. He looked polished and professional; you were a beaming pretty thing making space between his legs to kneel. You felt like a dream with your lips over his swollen, aching cock; Joel felt old. Paternal, almost.

Was it wrong to think you needed to be taught a lesson?

Of course it was. He wasn’t your dad. He didn’t do that.

But when you smiled up at him with your lips still brushing his straining bulge, Joel couldn’t resist the smallest impulse to wonder—what if he showed you?

What if he let you know exactly what he wanted, how he needed it done, and that he only ever craved it from you? If he couldn’t say it outright in words, he could guide you.

Teach you.

Your tongue traced the seam of his zip, and he groaned.

“Damn near gave your old man a stroke, y’know that?”

“I know,” you said softly. Kindly, “I’m sorry, daddy.”

His cock throbbed at that last affectionate word.

His hands couldn’t help themselves: one stayed planted on the back of your head, and the other made its way to his belt. He undid his buckle, button, and zip in a blink.

“And what was that prick’s name?” Joel grumbled.

“Gavin.”

Your mind seemed two million miles away from any shit-brained fratboy at the moment as your gaze fixed itself on the length he was working out of his pants just then.

When it bobbed out and got within an inch of your rapt expression, your lips parted on instinct; you leaned in.

Swiftly, Joel’s hand on your head halted the movement.

“Gavin, huh,” he returned, tone treading on patronizing. He knew you were salivating for that little pearl on his tip. He gripped your hair hard. “This what you’d do for him?”

You whimpered.

“No, daddy. No, just— just you.”

Joel hummed his approval but didn’t let you move. He watched you eye the head of his cock like there was no single sight more appetizing in the world, and then he saw you lick your lips. You’d get positive reinforcement.

He would take things slow, and by the end of it all, he hoped to have made it clear that this was what he wanted: you, and only you. That he didn’t want you doing this with anyone else other than him. Here, now, or ever.

The last was a lot to say, so he fed you an inch instead.

He let his cock slide between your lips and stretch them.

You breathed something soft and sweet at the first intrusion of his tip; your mouth cushioned that inch, and his head was immediately enveloped in warmth. Your tongue darted out to greet him in a gentle lick. Joel groaned again, and his fingers constricted in your hair.

“That’s it, honey,” he told you, “Suck on daddy.”

His hips hadn’t meant to jump, but the pleasure from just the cusp of your mouth was too much for him not to flinch a little. He stabbed another couple inches in that pliant ‘o’ and felt you work your jaw open to take him whole. You looked so obedient. You were doing so good.

You bobbed your head gently, and his hand didn’t need to coax you at all. You were hungry, mouth sliding up and down his thick, throbbing dick and leaving trails of spit in its wake. You wanted to please him now; he could feel it.

You had no idea what you did to him. All he wanted now. It was like trying to explain a color in words, and all the man could do was just hold your head in place and watch you take him. When your back straightened and one palm braced itself up against his thigh, the other about to curl around the base of his length, he shook his head.

He brushed that hand away and made it rest on his other leg, so you were left with just your mouth around him.

You peered up, confused. Joel was, too.

He wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to do, but he knew he had to lead the way. Make you see what he wanted you to by guiding your motions and filling your mouth the way he needed. He tried as much by shifting his left hand to meet the right at the back of your head. Gently, he pushed your face forward to suck more in.

“Breathe through your nose, baby. Wanna feel you.”

Feel you deeper, he should’ve said. Either way, it made for a slow and painstaking slide down your tongue—sensing you flatten it and inhale a shallow breath as he worked his way in—and at the stretch, you gagged a bit.

Joel eased up, just enough to let you flit your gaze to his.

“You wanna feel me, too, sweetheart?” he asked gently.

You nodded, mouth still full of cock. Your eyes glistened in a way that said you might’ve guessed there was more to it, but you weren’t exactly in a position to ask just what. You let the fingers of both his big hands splay against the back of your head, and your jaw slackened more. Your gaze stayed on his as his cock slid deeper.

In that, there was wordless, tranquil reprieve. The sight of his spit-soaked length stuffing your mouth, skin all shiny and wet, and the way he kept going further and further and further, until your soft pert nose grazed the hairs of his belly, made Joel’s member swell harder still. There was scarcely an inch in between your lips and his heft of stomach. Your eyes were still fixed on him, and as the seconds ticked by, there was moisture welling at the corners. Joel moved his hands to thumb at those tears.

“Good girl. You’re doin’ so good for daddy,” he praised.

And something stirred in the depths of his body when he felt you try to nod again, like you were thrilled to be giving him pleasure and wanted to show it in some way.

Joel could’ve stayed like that for hours if his dick would only have let him. As it was, though, he felt the stir in his stomach accompanied by something else—a familiar pinch, and a warning jolt of pleasure. He cursed quietly.

You’d just started. He’d barely got an inch down your—

“Fuck,” he cursed again, when he sensed you swallow around his dick. The head of himself was breaching somewhere deep within your throat, and he felt it.

This wasn’t what he’d planned. You’d taken him deep before—at your father’s birthday bash last month, actually—but then you’d been blowing him under a table. He couldn’t hold your gaze or watch your throat open around him, couldn’t see the minuscule wince in your eyes or try to brush that discomfited look aside with his thumbs in the way he could now. He felt it in the pit of his gut, though: he would burst if he didn’t slow down.

With that one grounding thought, Joel tried pulling out.

Your body below him responded in sharp protest.

‘Daddy, no’ seemed almost to jump off your tongue, though it was presently weighted down by his cock. Your nails worked deeper into the fabric of his pants, like the tight, possessive grip was all you could manage to let your intentions be known to him. Then the look flared in your irises, too. They were begging him to stay in place.

Joel obeyed. Though it was you on your knees for him, lips, tongue, and throat pulsing and sucking to give him the utmost pleasure, he felt pangs of powerlessness, too.

He couldn’t help it when your lips stretched more, when your mouth opened wider, and your throat took him in all the way. He was fucked. He let out a sharp, hoarse grunt to let you know as much, and he cursed out loud again.

And then, completely axing his every well-laid plan, Joel felt the first rope of cum unload from his throbbing tip. Then another. And another. And another hot flurry of pleasure cropped up from that place your mouth was presently attached to him, and this time, the wave was too much to be overcome. The whole thing flooded him.

Without a hope of beating out that primal instinct, Joel just cupped your face in his palms and let his climax fill your throat. He couldn’t think, and while you seemed a tad surprised at how early it came, you didn’t fight it, either. You simply sat back, peered up, and let him fuck your mouth in the gentlest, most desperate thrusts, mind likely eager to feel his spend paint your open throat.

You hardly had to swallow at all—hardly could swallow, with how deep he’d gone. His cum jetted in milky strings through your plush, wet channel, and Joel could feel it gliding down with just a moment’s hitch of resistance.

Impaled as you were, you gagged once, and he withdrew in the next instant. He didn’t wait for you to catch your breath or for his cum to get down inside you. He felt too much to be troubled now; he yanked you to your feet and drew you into him. He pushed you back against the sink.

Your legs latched around the backs of his, and your body was thrust against the mirror. It was tender, somehow. Joel didn’t fight to claim your lips or invade your mouth with stifling kisses; he just pressed you to the reflective glass and hedged you in under him. He kissed you gently.

In between movements against your body, he mumbled:

“I’m sick of missin’ you all the damn time, sweet pea.”

He wasn’t sure where it came from. It just came.

Much like he had, except the stringy ropes of cum that had spurted from his dick seemed far less of a mess than whatever the fuck was coming out of his mouth right now. He felt exposed as soon as he’d spoken it you.

Then he saw your lips twitch. You kissed him back.

Someplace within where your mouth slotted over his, you were able to get out a couple murmured words yourself.

“I wish you didn’t have to,” you returned in a whisper.

You snaked your arms around the back of his neck and kept kissing him, over and over again, like your body was just starting to melt, and the heat was making you dizzy.

Joel could relate. Every time you touched him, he felt it.

He gripped your legs where they were still curled around his sides, and he held you tighter to him. He pressed his torso to yours until he was half-sure he was hampering your breaths, and then he pulled back. Briefly. Panting.

When he opened his mouth to speak, you cut in for him:

“I wish you could…be here. I wish we didn’t have to…”

Hide.

Your mouth seemed to have your mind and your usual reservations beat by a mile. It was moving fast, like his. Before you could stop yourself, your thighs constricted around his hips, you pulled him in closer, and just as you were about to finish that last quick, splintered thought—

“We’re leeeeeeeeav—OH! Shit!”

Aly Ingram’s sing-song tone was shortly supplanted by a shriek. She’d thrown open the door, unannounced, and when she saw the two of you collapsed against the sink, Joel’s undone pants hanging precariously over his hips and your mouths scarcely two inches apart, she jolted.

Or jumped, really.

She almost leapt through her skin, it seemed, and before she could even begin to recover, she just slapped her hands over her eyes and stumbled back. She was drunk.

“I didn’t see that! I did not seeee—”

“Aly!” you half-hissed, half-groaned.

“I literally didn’t see shit. You’re all g—”

Before either you or Joel could utter another sound, or attempt to split apart, Aly let out a second shrill yelp. This time, it was because she’d just tripped over a trash can backing out. She’d only very narrowly regained her bearings, had grabbed hold of the doorknob and was dragging the door shut, when the girl all but sang again:

“Have fun, be safe! Don’t make babies!!”

Joel scarcely knew how to react to that.

As it turned out, your roommate was open-minded.

Ply her with four or five shots of tequila and a couple High Noons, and she’d probably believe the moon was made of cheese if you told her in a serious enough tone.

But your goal tonight hadn’t been to convince her of a lie—it was to get a big, ugly truth off your chest that you’d been hoping to keep under wraps this entire weekend.

Now, after getting caught with your fake stepfather’s jizz drying in your throat, you had had to come clean about this thing. It wasn’t a story you’d wanted to tell, but it was one that needed sharing given the circumstances.

Aly had laughed her ass off when you told her everything.

Blame it on the strobe lights, the thumping music, or the thick, fetid air of the bar you’d just arrived at, but Aly had laughed a lot. She’d squeezed her eyes shut and slapped the tabletop beside her, like that was the single most insane thing she’d ever heard, and why don’t you write her a How-To? She’d love some tips on boning old men.

“He’s not that old!” you’d protested over your beverage.

She’d bought the drink. She said news like this was cause for celebration, and you couldn’t deny that. Smiling as you spoke, you figured this was good.

In fact, you thought getting caught by your closest friend was one of the best things that could’ve happened, all things considered, because now you knew at least one person was supportive and in your corner regarding Joel. On top of that, you had someone to help cover your ass—if a touch or a look between you two was too suspect, she’d tell you. From the second your group had Ubered to the bar, she’d been keen to see you close…though not too close. Presently, she grinned and squeezed your leg.

“I think you two would make a damn cute couple.”

“Huh?” You had to shout over the music to be heard.

“A cute couple!”

“Come again?”

You were really trying your best, but the blare of Bon Jovi overhead was a bit too much. You leaned in closer to her.

“YOU AND JOEL WOULD MAKE A CUTE COUPLE!”

And, as if on cue, Joel and Aly’s father reappeared at the table, holding the drinks they’d left to buy. Thankfully, the volume in the room was near-deafening, and neither seemed to have heard a word of hers. Scott was nursing some bottom shelf whiskey concoction while Joel double-fisted two shitty beers beside him. You had to admit, the latter looked good from where you sat: one more button was popped on his icy white shirt and a smile was plastered on his face, eyes straying to you more often than they should. The moment after that, you were doubly grateful for the blast of ‘You Give Love a Bad Name’ in this bar—the next thing you knew, Joel was dropping his head casually and murmuring in your ear,

“Aly sure likes to stare, doesn’t she?”

Followed shortly by:

“Wanna give her somethin’ to watch?”

He was clearly joking. Your cheeks warmed anyway. Then, when he started to lift his head, he left a quick, parting kiss to your temple that could’ve been construed as a paternal gesture. To anyone else but you, him, and Aly, it likely was. Your gaze slid from Joel’s face to his forearms, where the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up. He smelled like pine, sweat, and Natty Light, and you were just about to tell him that somehow that combo worked for him, when Scott interposed, loud as hell.

“You ask her yet?!” he bellowed.

He knocked shoulders with Joel in a playful way, and the pair nearly stumbled sideways. Scott elbowed his ribs.

“He’s drunk as shit,” Dallas observed idly.

“Well, what’s he—” you began to say.

Before you’d even finished the question, your answer came in the form of Joel nodding, visibly pretty buzzed himself, as he waved his friend off with a shove and a laugh. Scott just grinned bigger as Bon Jovi gave way to Steely Dan over the speakers. Joel leaned back to you.

“Scott invited us to go skiing out in Jackson, Wyoming.”

“He loves planning trips drunk,” Michelle added.

“Like they’re best friends,” Dallas chuckled.

You ignored Aly’s half-concealed smirk on hearing that; you were too stuck on the look Joel was giving you. Like he was drunk, but dead serious—like he’d agreed to this.

Something set for a future date, however nebulous and far-fetched and stupid the idea may have been, made your insides stir a little all the same. You tried tamping it down with another sip of your drink, but you still shared a glance with Joel. He was watching you more intently.

“Is that something you’d wanna do, hon?” he asked.

You might’ve liked to warn him that he was drawing too close—that his breaths were too warm on your cheek and Aly was straightening in her chair, blinking harder—but anything even approaching a remonstrance was evidently never meant to leave your mouth, as the next second had you nudged off your barstool, taken by the hand, and dragged toward the bustling crowd at the center of the room. Scott had suggested dancing; his son had readily agreed and was now leading you out to the crowd himself. You snagged one fleeting look at Joel.

Mr. Ingram had been dying to get out there, apparently. Behind you, the man spun his wife the best he could through the jam-packed dance floor of students and parents bumping their way through the very best of the ‘70s and ‘80s. He took a few graceless turns himself; while Bob Seger, Bruce Springsteen, and AC/DC reigned supreme over the wide open space, he pulled some mildly impressive moves. More importantly, though, he didn’t give a shit how he looked. This encouraged your group to let loose a little, too, and you somehow found yourself burrowing even further into the sea of people.

Your arms were compressed on either side of you. Your shoulders were bumped, and nudged, and given little more than a quarter of an inch for your chest to expand in the shallowest of breaths. Every pull of your lungs was an effort, and still, you couldn’t help but smile as you ran a quick look over the heads of everyone around. This was fun. Private, even. With dozens of nameless, faceless bodies gyrating in time with the music, you could blend right in. You could pretend that everything was normal.

Even with the press of a familiar form at your back, you could pretend it was just the crowd forcing him there—that Joel had just sauntered in behind you by accident.

It was risky, to be sure. The lights above flashed in bright white bursts, undulating with every pulse of the song being played, and it wasn’t too far from you that Aly and all the rest of them were strewn throughout the crowd.

But Joel hadn’t seemed to have noticed. Beneath the myriad limbs of the bargoers around you and him, he moved a hand to your waist. It hovered precariously for half a second, then tightened. It drew you closer to him.

You tried to push it away on instinct, heart jumping in your throat: what if Scott or Michelle or anyone else turned their heads at that moment and found him touching you there? What if the grasp their eyes caught wasn’t the wholesome, blameless kind that was meant to be shared between stepfather and stepdaughter? Who the hell was supposed to do the explaining to them then?

Clearly Joel wasn’t all that concerned about it; he slid his palm back up your side and gripped your hip hard after you’d nudged him off. He took a daring step forward, and you could feel him shake his head behind you. Smiling.

“And if I made a joke about father-daughter dances—”

“I would kill you with my two bare hands, Miller.”

Your backside glanced off his front. It wasn’t so much a deliberate move on your part but a byproduct of the rhythm. Some soft rock song was coming to an end, and your body rolled gently with his. The friction was minimal. This kind of proximity was easy to be explained away, if Dallas ever happened to look in your direction—

“Joel!”

Something hard pushed into your ass. You had to steel yourself quick, eyes darting furtively about to make sure no one had seen what you’d just felt between your legs. Then you tried wriggling away, off of him, and were rewarded with another hand on your side. It gripped the flesh just above your hipbone with a tender conviction.

Joel’s lips grazed your cheek briefly. His grip loosened.

“See what you do to me?” he murmured, and the fingers that he’d eased around your waist were turning you back.

Facing him now, away from your group. More bodies filled in between you and them, and the force of that influx pushed you closer to Joel. It shoved you together. It almost couldn’t be helped—that was what you kept telling yourself, anyway—when your frame melded to his, and his hands lowered to your hips, and one finger worked its way through your taut, denim belt loop in a manner completely unbecoming of a normal stepfather.

That callused finger held you firm to him with your jeans. It didn’t give an inch, and his eyes on yours did the same.

You were drifting further out. This didn’t matter as much. Anyone who saw you now would just have to guess that you were Joel’s, and Joel’s was yours—if only for now.

Your lips and his were gravitating closer then, too. You were just about to part yours to speak, when one soft, opening sequence broke out in the air, and you groaned.

No fucking way.

An all-too-familiar mid-tempo tune flooded the room and coursed in and out of your skull with a low, rhythmic tick.

It was eerie. Dreamy. Nearly haunting in the way it rang out right here, right now, with Joel’s hold on your sides tightening more and more with every passing second.

You hoped like hell he didn’t know this song, though you were half-certain this was a big hit from back in his day.

When Joel tipped his head back and fell right in step with the swaying cadence, you weren’t left guessing for long. Of course this slick bastard liked George Michael.

Of course he did.

What more of an appropriate song to be dancing to now, other than fucking ‘Father Figure’ of all the throwbacks?

Joel lifted both arms in a half-shimmy, half-slide and flashed a shit-eating grin down at you. It was smug.

‘For one moment, to be warm and naked at my side.’

Joel raised his brows with it, as if hearing the lyrics for the first time and being shocked. He wasn’t, clearly, as he rolled his shoulders in a stupid and seductive way, and dragged you closer to meet his body’s movements.

‘Sometimes I think that you’ll never understand me.’

Right. You would likely never understand Joel Miller.

‘But something tells me together we’d be happy.’

Well…as long as your father didn’t kill him first.

Emboldened by the pre-chorus beat and the ever-increasing swell of people around him, Joel snaked an arm around your waist. He let your body fall in line with his, rolling in gentle sorts of motions until he could find what kind suited you two the best, and he led the way.

When his head dipped to yours, you could feel it coming.

‘I will be your father figure. Put your tiny hand in mine.’

This time Joel was singing along, grin wide on his face. As if to mirror the lyrics, he took your hand and squeezed it. You might’ve rolled your eyes or pulled away when the man leaned down and slid his touch to your wrist. He kissed your palm. Then he kissed it again, sponging his lips to the skin in time with the rhythm of the song. It was both innocent and lewd. Wholesome and sensual.

Something trapped between perverted and polite, like Joel was testing the waters while trying not to make it seem that way at all. You kept moving in time together.

Joel’s other hand held you to him. His fingers flexed.

��You can’t…”

When his grip slid to your ass, you shook your head.

As much as you would’ve liked to indulge the urge that was currently flooding your system, the timing was off. The choice to give in now was wrong, and risky to make.

Your roommate and her family were no more than fifteen feet away. No matter how many strangers stood between you and them, Joel was toeing a dangerous line with his hand lowered to where it was. With his face only inches away and a sly grin spreading on his lips, it was clear he knew better than this. But he was eager to talk.

“You feel that, sweetheart?” he asked softly.

Where that single term of endearment had once made you bristle, you now sensed it warming your insides.

You nodded but were quick to add: “Joel, we can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because…”

You found yourself trailing off again, just as you felt Joel’s erection grind into your front, somewhere close to the space between your legs. It rubbed right where you needed him. While another stream of airy, dreamlike notes floated out and a tenor’s voice crooned if you ever hunger, hunger for me, you peered up to find Joel deep in contemplation. He didn’t blink when you met his gaze.

Instead, he nudged you sideways. You inhaled a breath, and not long after that, you felt your back pressed to one of the lone barstools sitting at the outskirts of the room. You’d strayed far. And now, away from all the people that you’d come here with, you had two big hands sliding up the sides of your body. Cupping your face. Guiding your mouth to meet a warmer, more desperate set of lips than you’d ever been expecting to find. Joel’s kiss was rough.

It was open and aching—a wound not willing to be soothed by anything other than your tongue on his. Swiftly, he coaxed your jaw open and slid in. He licked in. He practically panted into your mouth, fingertips carving crescents in your cheeks from just how hard he was holding your face. He didn’t let up, and that hunger bled from his lips to yours. You felt a heady wave wash over your brain, and at the same time, your thighs tensed.

You pulled away.

Your lips were bitten numb. Your cunt was throbbing.

While your pulse thundered through your ears like a fucking kickdrum, your grip loosened on the front of Joel’s shirt, and you started to turn yourself from him.

What you needed to do was leave. What you couldn’t stand was getting caught again, and risk it being someone who wouldn’t take to it as kindly as Aly had.

But even as you walked, you felt a pulsing in your skull.

Between your legs, the feeling was worse, like there was something thrumming a frantic beat in that precious and defenseless place that you knew was needing him most. You were weak. You swiped a hand over your mouth like that would do anything, and you kept walking, knowing how closely Joel would be following you all the way out.

On such a clear, frigid night, the air outside should’ve been a relief. Instead, your pulse hammered and swelled. Your cheeks burned. You could’ve ground your teeth so hard that you cracked enamel, and it still wouldn’t have been enough to bite back the words inside your throat.

You turned to Joel wanting to tell him no. The expression that met yours said he was expecting as much—and was preparing to object—when you swiftly cut him off again.

It should end there. Nothing good ever came of you shedding your inhibitions or clothes with Joel Miller.

He reached out; you winced. You shouldn’t say it.

“Let’s go home, Joel.”

You were running again.

You’d nearly knocked him to the floor the second he’d turned the key in the door of his dingy little motel room, lips frantic over his and hands making fists in his shirt. It was exactly what he’d been hoping to see—part of why he’d booked this place and made the drive that weekend, to have you cradled in his arms again—but as he crossed the threshold with you all over him, Joel grew unsettled.

He couldn’t quite place the feeling, but something told him that you were only here to escape an unsavory urge. Like he was a bad habit to be flooded from your system.

You seemed to say it with every motion of your hands: skating down his front, clawing at the buttons, busying themselves with quickly trying to rid him of the fabric while your eyes stayed trained anywhere but on his face. It stung. Normally Joel wasn’t the type to ruminate on the reasons why a girl might be tearing his clothes off, but tonight, with you, this wasn’t what he usually did.

The ache unfurling in his chest wasn’t the kind to be imparted by just anyone, he kept reminding himself.

Which was why he took hold of both your wrists. Tightly. Just as you were about to try and peel his shirt from his shoulders and expose the whole naked expanse of his chest, he stopped you. He swallowed as you groaned.

“Joel.”

“You didn’t want me kissin’ you at all back there.”

In the bar, outside the building, in the car ride over here. You’d scarcely let him hold you for half a minute before begging to be taken home, and now that you were inside this room, alone, now you wanted to be touched by him.

Joel tried not to feel stupid saying it aloud, but hell, he felt pretty fucking pathetic peering down at you then.

You shook your head. Took a small step back from him.

“Yeah. Trying not to get us caught again, remember?”

And when you backed off, you stayed off, if only to start unfastening the little straps of your top and kick your shoes off your feet. You made your way over to the king-sized bed at the center of the room and sat down. Joel took off his own shoes but didn’t follow, opting instead to rest his weight on the old TV stand across from you.

He planted his hands on the hardwood surface on either side of him, watched you shuffle to the edge of the bed, and had to steel himself when the next pieces of clothing came sliding off your body. You were lifting your shirt over your head, then dragging your jeans down your legs.

Before you were stripped bare, Joel cleared his throat.

“I said we were gonna have a little chat later, too.”

He sounded like a dad. This really had to stop.

Instead of following his lead, you only kicked your pants off at your feet and leaned back. Joel approached the bed, and you greeted him with a coquettish look, like you already knew where this was going. But you couldn’t.

Joel made sure that you wouldn’t when he cupped your chin in his hand and made you tilt your face up to him.

“Honey,” he started, stern, while you reached for his belt.

You’d almost succeeded in threading your fingers through the leather and tugging it loose when Joel’s grip drew tighter. He jerked your chin up in a pinch, ignoring the roll of your eyes, and for yet another beat, he felt that obscure urge to discipline you again. Like you needed it.

If he could just control himself and play things right…

“Listen, I’m not trying to be your father.”

Wait. No. That came out wrong.

Your eyes widened some.

“Oh, really, daddy?”

Well, shit.

Joel straightened where he stood and tried not to puff out his chest like an old father-type might do, but the effort was useless—everything the man said and did was like the fucking calling card of a patriarch. He scrubbed a hand over his face and pretended not to see you grin up at him, your gaze bright and fiery as the Fourth of July.

He could hold important conversations and still not try to jump your bones immediately. He could control himself. He could slap on a semi-austere look and just tell you.

“I love you, you know that, right?” he blurted out.

Your eyes widened again, this time in alarm.

“Christ, Joel.”

You were sliding back on the bed. Shaking your head and pursing your lips in a grimace like this wasn’t happening.

“We’re not doing this again,” you added in a grave voice.

Joel was already making his way up after you—again, like a fucking moron, he felt—crawling on hands and knees across the moth-eaten, coral-colored bedspread and trying not to panic and failing miserably, per usual.

“‘S’alright if you don’t wanna say it back, I just—”

“I didn’t mean to say it in the first place, Joel!”

But there was a strain in your words. Denial.

You were working in earnest not to expose that sliver of self that wanted him, too. Joel could feel it. He planted his knees on the mattress and met you closer to the headboard, where your breaths were coming in faster. You shook your head, but you also didn’t stop him when he drew in even closer and lowered his body to yours.

He was hovering, almost.

Just as he’d been poised above your soft, beaming face all those weeks back in some little podunk town—at Balmaceda’s Mountain Lodge, where you’d been stuck together, only to fuck each other for the first time that night—he pressed a touch to your side. He rubbed his thumb just over your hipbone, where the panties you had on still clung to your skin, and he watched you tense up.

It was like before, only worse: now you knew his touch, and he knew yours, but there was a dread in your eyes.

As if you couldn’t stand to be under him, you slid back.

“Joel, please…don’t,” you murmured hoarsely.

“Don’t what?” His stomach dropped.

“Don’t ever say that again.”

That he loved you?

Joel never thought one string of words could hurt him so much, but there it was. While his heart unwound and his ego met with a swift and unceremonious death, he felt something like agitation twist inside him, too. Cruelly.

This was what he’d come this whole way to tell you.

The man could handle rejection; that wasn’t the problem. What bothered him now was how unflinchingly committed you seemed to misunderstand his intentions. Something surged in his chest again, and this time, it wasn’t all hurt—it was anger, too. Why you refused to accept that someone might love you was beyond him.

He didn’t reach for you again or crowd you further, but he raked a hand through his hair and heaved a hard sigh.

“Why won’t you believe me?” This time pleading.

“It’s not that I won’t—I just can’t, Joel. I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

You started to speak, but then that balloon of rage swelled bigger in his chest, and it wasn’t meant to be directed at you—it was only meant for himself, why wasn’t he enough—and he spit the words like venom.

“Haven’t I shown you that I mean it? That I— I— I care? I’m here. I came to see you. I’m telling you that I love you. How else am I supposed to show the woman I love that I care when you won’t let me in an inch, except when—”

“Except when you’re seven deep in me?” you scoffed.

It was bitter and derisive, and you slid farther back.

“For Christ’s sake,” Joel gritted through his teeth.

He didn’t even wait for you to interject, as he came back: “Is that all you think of me? Is that what I am to you?”

His voice was loud, and he hadn’t meant for it to be.

He was pushing off the bed, watching you sit back.

“I just think it’s real convenient,” you snapped again, “Betraying my trust by not telling me about dad’s affair, finding me in a weak moment, letting me believe you feel the same so you don’t have to deal with this…this…guilt.”

Joel couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You think I did all of this out of pity?”

“I think you’re trying to be a—”

“That I would lie about it?”

His heart rate was spiking. He felt his pulse thudding in his ears as he stalked around the footboard and scowled.

“Joel, I—”

“No.” He shook his head hard. He was sincerely trying not to fit the bill for ‘hot-headed, explosively angry father,’ but the efforts he made seemed all in vain. Joel could hardly talk now without raising his voice to a shout.

“I have—” he started, only to stop himself, swallowing.

His throat ached, and he almost choked on his words.

“I have been in love with you this whole fuckin’ time!”

His eyes burned. The sound came out angry, hoarse. Maybe he was; he just couldn’t contain it anymore. Silence filled the open space, and time distended.

He couldn’t stand the way you wouldn’t believe him, even now, as you straightened and shook your head.

“No, you haven’t.”

“I have.”

“You don’t mean—”

“You don’t get to tell me what I mean!”

He stared back and watched your gaze erupt in ire. Indignation. Lips drawing tight and teeth baring and hands gripping the bedspread beside you, as if enraged.

“I do. I can. You’re— you’re full of shit.”

Your words made him want to hurl something at a wall.

“Am I?!” he bellowed.

“Yes!” you spat.

“How can you say that?!”

And, without meaning to, Joel’s knee hit the side of the nightstand while he turned abruptly from you. The whole thing shook; the lamp nearly toppled, and the man immediately reached for it, then out to you. The gesture was a reflexive apology, but you responded by shoving his hands off. An angry sound racked through your body as you moved from him—“You—you don’t mean it, Joel.”

“I do. I mean it. Believe me, I do.”

That sound from his chest could’ve been half a sob.

He reached for you again, knees sinking with the springs of the mattress beneath him, and you shuffled further back. Your movements slowed. Suddenly, Joel’s stopped.

He couldn’t see it without a wince—your hands shaking. Your fingers tried making fists but failed, and in an effort to conceal the fear they held, you seized the comforter.

His throat ached, and that pain only soared in a second.

“You can’t…you can’t mean it if I’m just a secret to you.” Your tone was a rasp. The lips that spoke it were curled, revealing teeth still gritted. Eyes filling with more tears, “You can’t say you love me if…if you’re just gonna leave.”

By the end of it, your words were ground to a murmur. Your voice was hushed and slow and begging to be spared notice, as though every syllable hurt to say.

Your bottom lip was quivering too. He knew you were kicking yourself for it—could see the embarrassment etched into your gaze as you blinked back nothing, then one, then two, then a barrage of slow, hot tears—but no matter what you did to fight it off, your body trembled.

The whole thing was practically vibrating with hurt. Humiliation and anger had evidently joined the mix, and before he could even think to speak, you mumbled again:

“You’re gonna leave me, Joel.”

The hurt wouldn’t stop.

“You don’t love me.”

Your voice cracked to continue, pain clinched with a sob.

“You can’t.”

In the look that met his, he saw a wall of warring fears. It wasn’t all for him, either. There were wounds that were the work of years beneath the surface of your skin, ones entrenched in flesh since long before he’d ever known you or laid a finger on that part himself. It started young.

Your lashes battled to keep the tears at bay, but the floodgates had opened. Your secret was gone. There was no sense in feigning indifference when the truth was laid bare—that you didn’t deem yourself worthy of love, and likely never had. Regardless, you worked hard not to cry. You scrunched your nose, mashed your lips together, and stared anywhere but him, and the tears kept flowing. Gently, but without slowing, they streaked down in turn.

“No, sweet pea, I love you. I love you. I ain’t leavin’.”

It was all Joel could do to keep his own vision clear.

He already knew you wouldn’t believe him, but that didn’t stop him from saying the words all the same.

“I— I said it first,” he went on, words tumbling out.

You turned wet, sad eyes to him in utter silence, and that made him want to ramble on forever. As long as it took.

“At the fair, a month before you ever said it, I was trying to tell you I loved you then. You ran off before I could.”

That was the truth.

If Joel had any hope of regaining your trust, it would need to start there. And out of one truth came another.

“I already knew I loved you before that. I would’ve said it, except it just felt wrong, with all that…that stuff I knew.”

He meant knowing about his best friend, your father, and his little rekindled romance with his former mistress. It wasn’t right, keeping you in the dark about something like that, but he also hadn’t wanted to hurt you. There was more to the story that complicated things further, and frankly, Joel had been too swept up in the novelty of this thing you two had had to choose the smarter path.

That didn’t excuse what he did. Hell, it only hurt him worse seeing your eyes gloss over and stay fixed on his.

Knowing you’d trusted him not to hurt you—and he had.

If you didn’t accept what he told you now, he wouldn’t fault you for it. All he could do was slide off the bed and pull you to a perch on the edge, while he planted himself on the carpeted floor and kneeled in between your legs.

Cupping your tear-stained face in his hands, pleading:

“Baby.”

You blinked back at him but ventured nothing.

“Sweet pea, I am not keeping you a secret.”

A beat.

“I’m not leavin’. I want more—need more.”

And for some reason, that felt like a weightier admission than he’d even thought possible. He wasn’t good at this.

He wasn’t quite cut of a cloth to know just how to soothe you and make things right, but he did know that holding you felt right to him. So he did. He rubbed his thumbs in little circles over your warm, wet, puffy cheeks, and he pulled your face closer to his. He held your gaze and watched an internal war wage somewhere far behind your eyes as you tried to contend with this new feeling—that of being wanted and needed and loved as you were.

You sniffled between his two broad palms.

“I want you to stay,” you said softly.

Joel’s heart hammered at that.

He couldn’t hope to leave out the rest. He let go of your face then and felt an irresistible urge to go on, even if it was much too soon and he had meant to show you later. As stupid as the idea had been, he’d already made it, and there was no going back anyhow. He would tell you here.

He reached in his pocket for his wallet. He broke your gaze momentarily to take it out, flip it open, and then card his fingers through the bills a few aching moments before pulling it out—the thing he’d wanted to show you.

When he held it up, a set, he flitted a quick look to what he’d lifted between you and him, as if the sight might give him answers on what to say. Sadly, nothing came.

Joel was totally on his own in explaining what this was. Lucky for him, though, you didn’t seem keen to judge.

“They’re…they’re tickets,” he started. Stupid.

You raised a brow, trying to read, and he forged ahead. Just as the words first appeared to register in your mind, and the faintest look of shock took shape, he hurried out:

“Billy Joel’s got a show comin’ up in Austin this June. I…I thought— well, I hoped, I guess, that maybe we could…”

Spit it out, Miller.

Spit. It. Out.

He frowned.

“I’m no good at this. Sorry. I wanted us to go…together.”

And then…

“And I want your dad to know about us before then.”

There it is.

The last lynchpin in the man’s resolve was gone. He’d said it. There was no turning back from what he’d offered, or what it required, and now you knew he wanted things to be real and committed. Serious.

Terrifying.

Your eyes remained fixed on his. For a second, that look, and your whole upper half, appeared so still Joel thought you might’ve stopped breathing altogether. You blinked. Glancing down at the tickets in his hand and batting your lashes again, as if you weren’t quite sure how to answer.

Then, at last, he heard a sharp inhale—Or was it an exhale? He couldn’t tell—and before he could blink back or wonder so much as a thought, the breath was battered out of his own chest. You rushed him.

You’d moved so fast, hugged him so quick, Joel scarcely knew what was what until he felt your arms snake around his neck. You joined him on the filthy, soiled floor and dropped your knees on either side of his body in a kind of straddling hug. It was as swift as it was unexpected, and it took him a second to adjust. But no longer than that.

Joel was relieved to feel your warmth. Squeezing him. Choking him, almost. He didn’t think you’d ever held him that hard in his life, so he did all he could to soak it in.

It was only when he heard another sob that he paused.

“You…you want to?” Your voice was tiny against him.

“‘Course I do, darlin’,” Joel answered in a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He cupped the back of your head to him and held you tighter, “Of course I do.”

Then, because the impulse struck again: “I love you.”

He didn’t need you to say it back; a look was enough. When you drew back and met his gaze, eyes still doused with tears but smiling faintly at him, Joel was content to see your acceptance. Allowing love in in some small way.

And when your lips succeeded that look, meeting his in a soft kiss, and your body shifted up toward the bed, he didn’t protest. He kissed you back. Joel didn’t have to have love spelled out in words for him to feel what you meant. You said it gently, but somehow with even more force than when you’d stumbled into this room together, touch beckoning him in as you laid back on the mattress.

Admittedly, every inch of this place was seedy. On such short notice Joel hadn’t had much of a pick among his choice of accommodations, and the shortage showed. Still, when you slid up that old, worn bed and stretched yourself in wordless welcome, he couldn’t have asked for more. He only wished that he could give you more, but for right now, at least, that was out of the question. He leaned in and found your lips like second nature, slotting between your thighs and kissing you harder. The concert tickets had shortly been cast aside on the night stand.

“I love you.”

It slipped out again, and Joel didn’t care. His tongue chanced past the seam of your lips and, once inside, explored every contour, ridge, and crevice it could find.

While he did, a touch palmed your breasts over your bra. Your skin was warm; gaze soft, the last he’d seen of it. The scent of you rose to greet him like a mist of some wild intoxicant: citrus, mint, a tinge of sweat, and a liter of your favorite fruity drink, if he’d had to guess. You flooded his senses. It wasn’t enough for him simply to hold flesh in his hands and explore your body with his lips and tongue; Joel wanted to consume something more, though he hardly had the words to articulate it.

You unclasped your bra just as his mouth slid down to your neck. There was a beat—your sharp intake of breath when his teeth met skin and marked it with the tenderest bite—and then your arms reached out. You discarded your bra and bared yourself to him, and when Joel tilted his head to take in the view, he had to groan your name.

There was no other logical route for him to go.

You’d just begun to wind your fingers through his hair when he slid down to greet that newly-exposed place.

“I love you,” he repeated against your skin before drawing one nipple between his lips. He kissed it.

Your grip grew tighter.

“Joel, please.”

His teeth had only reappeared a second to tug the pebbled flesh between them, tongue hungry and wet and laving gently across that hardened peak, when your legs wound around him too. You pulled his body into you.

Joel was helpless to the inducement. His torso fell more heavily to yours and his lips suckled with a vigor that betrayed sheer desperation. He felt it strain in his pants. When he moved from one breast to the other, he heard a wet pop, and the whimper when he re-attached himself was enough to make the bulge he felt swell even bigger. His tongue caressed in laving, measured motions along the curve, and he tried not to grow overly eager from it.

Don’t get too excited. You need time. Lots and lots of—

“Joel,” you exhaled on a particularly harsh press of his mouth. Your ribs heaved with it. “Come— come here.”

He was clambering back up in an instant. The ministrations of his lips that had practically engulfed your skin and smeared it with his saliva were swapped in a blink with them returning to your chin, jaw, and cheeks, planting kisses in between the words he murmured next.

“Yeah? Every—” To the side of your mouth. “Everything OK, sweet pea?” Feeling guilty but also simply needing to calm himself down. “Too fast?” Another to your cheek.

It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t gone too far, too soon before. In fact, it was a pretty regular occurrence with the sex you had. Joel just needed a reset—had to make sure this was alright, and that he could cool down if needed.

He felt a pinch in his groin but ignored it.

Suddenly, your gaze was on his again.

Fingers carded through the sweat-damp, striated tufts of black and silver hair at the sides of his head, and you leaned in closer until your nose and his were touching.

“Here,” you pressed him, low. Need crept into those words, and your grasp constricted. “Stay here, please.”

It was clear you were inviting him back to your lips, to kiss them, so Joel did just that. He bracketed his arms on either side of your head and let his mouth explore as it had before. Where he resumed at equal force, you met him with still more warmth and wanting and open fervor, tongue curling around his in some soft and wordless plea

Below the belt, Joel was throbbing. He didn’t need to reflect long at all to know what that meant. Then your lips parted wider, your ankles dug deeper in the backs of his calves, and your hips started grinding against him.

Dry humping.

Whining at the friction.

“Feels…feels so good, Joel,” you told him breathlessly.

“You like that?” His lower half mimicked the motions.

Need blossomed across your face as the ridge of his cock rubbed in just the right way through his slacks. Something harder than he meant—a thrust, like he was fucking you into the bed—shook your frame, as well as the mattress underneath it. Springs creaked. Metal groaned. Warmth spread, from the pit of his stomach to where your body met his. The movements kept going.

You were slick beneath him. You must have been. Your whines had heightened to punctured gasps and your hips were so desperate, rubbing your barely-clothed core to the front of his pants and brows pinching as if—

You were already expecting this to end.

You didn’t think that he would stay.

“Baby,” Joel panted again.

By now, desire consumed him, but the urge to smooth that tiny crease of worry was coursing just as powerfully. He swallowed, gripped the linens beside your head in one hand a little harder, and opened his mouth to speak.

Another flick of your hips. Another sigh. Another whine.

Another pinch somewhere deep within him, and a groan.

Suddenly, your hands were on his shoulders, sliding up and toward his neck. Your fingers clawed for his hair.

“Joel,” you panted back.

Joel had tried to slow the motions of his lower half to talk, but yours had only sped up to grind yourself against him. He could feel the heat bleeding from you now. Wetness formed and expanded in a patch through your pink cotton panties and likely stained his front, or would.

His cock was swollen stiff and throbbing. Precum pearled at the tip of him, no doubt, and with every jerk of your body, he could feel it smearing and aching to slip in.

He wanted to be inside you. His balls twitched, his stomach ached, and his senses were suffused with you, a white-hot desire to paint your mouth, your skin, or your insides with his cum nearly as strong. But he had to stop.

Then you kissed him.

Joel’s lips were still parted when your mouth found his, kissing him sweetly and without reserve. Your fingers that had threaded through his hair pulled taut. Hard.

Your center slid up the length of his fully clothed cock, and with one more press of your legs, Joel felt you.

He’d never wanted anything more in his life, and still, he fought to speak—to reassure you that he wasn’t leaving.

“Joel—”

“I know, I know. Baby, I—fuck.” His breath hitched in his throat when his bulge pulsated again. His head swam.

With what meager resolve the man still possessed, he ventured another kiss, then drew back. His eyes dropped and searched your expression, half-crazed, and just when the words were taking shape again, you parted your lips and brought them to his. You rolled your hips, balled your fingers into fists through his hair, and with your mouth and his a quarter-inch apart in puckered, pretty ‘O’s, panting with every thrust that shook the bed:

“I love you, Joel.”

It was a breath, and the taste had never felt sweeter.

One more jerk of his hips and you were drawing in once again, panting in his mouth as if to make sure he heard.

“I— I love you. I love you so much,” you murmured, low.

His cum unloaded in thick, hot ropes. He couldn’t stop it.

Joel Miller, at the age, maturity, and level of experience he could boast, had never cum virtually untouched and in his own fucking pants since…he couldn’t remember when. But he was. His spend pulsed out from the head of his cock in dizzying bursts, and his stomach clenched. He gripped the bedspread and let out a guttural groan while he soaked the front of his boxers from inside them.

His dick throbbed and leaked, and his breathing slowed. He mumbled something back, quietly—‘I love you, too.’

Then he pushed up and off of you, out of the bed.

Seconds stretched; he didn’t feel it. Stars burst behind his eyes with every step, and he staggered that path to the bathroom like his life or his pride might depend on it.

As a matter of fact, the damage was already done. He’d jizzed in his pants like an overeager teen getting his dick touched or sucked for the very first time. What was worse, you hadn’t been doing either when he came; you’d told him you loved him, and that was enough.

Enough to make him look like a goddamn idiot, Joel thought without blinking. He kicked the door shut behind him and reached for the zip of his pants.

Sticky. Wet. A whole fucking shitshow below the belt.

He ran the tap. He had his undone slacks and boxers pulled down past his hips, and he was facing the sink in seconds, assessing the extent of the damage. Then his face flushed red at the sight of the sticky, milky mess swarming his groin and he could’ve kicked himself. He settled for yanking a towel out from one of the cubbies beneath the counter and running it under the water. He daubed quick and without much precision, gaze darting to find dozens more clumps of his spend strewn about than he thought possible. He’d cum an absurd amount.

Before he chastised himself, though, he had to pause.

“Joel?”

Your voice was soft. Sometime since he’d unzipped and started scrubbing his crotch in vicious circles, you’d appeared at the door, head peeking around curiously.

You must not have been standing there for long, because you actually drew closer to join him. Feeling comfortable enough in roughly thirty square feet of space, you shut the door again and leaned your hip against the counter.

If Joel didn’t know you better, and he wasn’t already occupied with wiping cum off of his cock and balls, he might’ve searched your face for a smile. A smirk, maybe.

It wasn’t like teasing each other was suddenly off-limits now that Joel was brimming with embarrassment. Half your communication was giving the other shit for little mishaps and quirks, and he expected that his last accident in the bedroom would be no different.

He flinched when you reached out instead.

Hooking your fingers under the waistband of his pants and his plaid boxers, you shuffled in closer to him and let out a breath. You tugged once, twice—gently, so as not to further disrupt the mess or make him wince—and then coaxed the fabric down his legs, lower and lower.

When you peered up at him, Joel couldn’t find so much as a trace of amusement in your eyes or on your lips. You just nudged his slacks to the tiled floor and hummed.

“It’ll be easier if we wash it off in there.”

You nodded to the shower behind him.

Joel turned slightly, as if considering or trying to get a glimpse of the freestanding shower with its wide-open, mildewed curtain seeming to beckon him in, then stopped. He turned back and chucked his towel.

“Alright,” he said while kicking his pants off at the ankles. Talking softly and not meeting your gaze, “That’s fine.”

He pivoted once more to peel his shirt off and make toward the shower by himself, and you surprised him, again, when you bypassed his much larger frame and hopped in first. You slid your panties off and tossed them into the pile of clothes by the sink, and you twisted the knob on the wall. You sidestepped the first stuttered sprays and drew the curtain back in wordless invitation.

Joel hovered, eyes scanning the cramped space.

“I don’t think we’re both gonna fit in here.”

Then, as though to emphasize his point:

“I can wash off by myself. It’s…fine.”

He hadn’t meant it to sound so stilted, but that was just how he felt: stiff and awkward and raw with feelings of recent embarrassment. He tilted his head to the side.

Your head tipped right back, and you raised a brow.

“Just get in, Miller. Freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off.”

And there was a smile: the first one. Faint.

Not mocking, snide, or condescending. Just the kind to usher him in and drag the curtain behind his hulking body, wipe a slick, wet hand over your mouth and grin—‘You do know I’ve seen you naked before, right?’—and that set his mind at ease. He almost smiled himself.

“So you remember that I’m a grower, not a shower.”

Joel cupped his hands over his softening length in faux protective fashion, as if you hadn’t seen the thing dozens of times by now. When he sidled up and cornered you between the soap tray and the shower stream, he found the edges of his lips kicking up a little, unable to help it.

You’d seen him hard, soft, and everything in between—mostly hard when near you. Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing that you were getting to experience him like this.

That made him lean in closer. Chance another joke.

“Looks like your old man’s stamina has taken a hit, too.”

Joel had meant it to sound playful. Suggestive, even. Instead, it came out dismal and gruff, like he was trying to overcompensate for something he was sorely lacking.

He might’ve wanted to kick himself again, were it not for the next move you pulled on him, which was enough to pluck his thoughts—and his breath—out of his body.

Without wasting a second to pretense or teasing, you simply brushed your hand down his front and touched him, gently. He was softer, smaller, and almost wholly spent from his last exertion; still, you reached and wrapped your fingers around his length with care.

Sparks ignited from the place where you trailed. Joel had to swallow a groan, oversensitive and fairly stunned, and his palm came to rest on the wall behind your head. His chin dipped toward his chest while his gaze dropped too.

He watched you stroke him once, rub your thumb along the tender skin, then bring your left hand to join the mix, carrying a bar of soap with it. You started from the base.

“Baby,” Joel rasped. The muscles of his stomach clenched while you drew circles to spread the soap.

“My old man,” you repeated affectionately.

It was artless and kind. Friendly and gentle. Most every other time he’d been touched where you had him, the hands had meant to arouse, and seek something else. Here, you were trying to help. Clean him sweetly and without concern for yourself while also drawing him in, like you always did. It made his chest hurt—and not in a way totally unconcerning for a man his age. Nonetheless, he leaned into that feeling and shifted his body to yours.

His head and your head were now doused with water, his hovering above so close that little droplets streaked from his chin down your slightly upturned face. Joel could feel you watching him. He flicked his own gaze back to meet yours, and as he did, your palm stroked him from root to tip. His hips jerked involuntarily; he swelled in your grip.

His cock stiffened but still remained far from fully erect. Joel swallowed, anchored his hand harder on the wall, and wished himself a decade or three younger, at least.

“You alright with this?” he muttered.

“With what?” you mumbled back.

Joel sucked in a breath just as your hand, and the soap, slid back down his length, and rubbed casually around it. You assumed a leisurely pace and scrubbed his tummy.

“My body ain’t what it was—”

“And it’s more than enough.”

Suddenly, your eyes weren’t just resting on his but pressing. Piercing. The circles working to clean his skin increased in pace and force, and you set the soap aside. You nudged him closer to the water, but all Joel felt was the urge to draw you with him. The shower stream pelted his chest, his belly, his freshly soaped lower half, and past the suds, a gradually hardening cock. Gradually.

You had him in your hand; you were rinsing him clean. Joel should’ve extended some murmured thanks, a calm and uncalculating touch coming to rest on one of your shoulders while you did him this innocent favor. Your lips twitched. His cock hardened. Then your back was flat on the shower wall, and Joel was hovering over your drenched and naked frame again, only his touch was descending to your hip instead. He held it firmly.

“You could have your pick of any guy—”

“Good thing I only want you.”

Your grip tightened too. Now that you’d scrubbed him clean, you seemed ready to let go in the next second, but old habits died hard. Joel leaned in to nose your cheek.

“That so?” His hand moved from your hip to what he knew would be a scorching heat between your thighs.

Two thick fingers glided through your folds and forced a whimper out of your throat. You were soaking wet, and not just from the shower’s spray. Joel rubbed that slick, delicate seam with all the self-control he could muster in the moment, and he kissed your cheek. Every inch he could feel of you was brimming with warmth and need.

You tilted your chin and caught his lips. You parted your legs and held his almost-fully erect length in your grasp.

“I— I mean it, Joel,” you answered him, surprisingly soft then. You kissed the sides of his mouth while you continued to stroke up and down. “I want you.”

Joel’s hips shifted involuntarily. As if moving of its own volition, his lower half stirred beneath your touch, and shortly, he had your legs spread wider and his body slotting in the gap between. His fingers pushed deeper.

And, just as his hand was all but cupping your mound and the wet heat of your cunt was pulsing against him, Joel slowed. He sucked in a breath and met your gaze.

“How do you want me, sweetheart?” he murmured.

In reply, you gripped his base and guided him closer. Flicked your thumb over the fat, leaking tip and sighed.

“Right…here.”

“Right here?”

Joel hadn’t meant to move you so quickly, but one blink and your hand was off him completely; your back was turned to him, and your ass was pressed flush with his groin. He had to hunch in the tight, wet, fog-infested enclosure with his chin jutting in over your shoulder and his palm splayed over your tummy. He spoke softly again:

“You want daddy in here, pretty girl?”

Your whine was all he needed to hear.

And perhaps it would’ve been wise to wait a beat or two. Work two fingers in and out of your aching cunt, drag his tongue through your folds, or else use his throbbing tip to ease you open for him. Before he could even think to make use of his hands, mouth, or head, though, you were reaching behind and taking him yourself. You pressed a palm to the wall and pushed up on the tips of your toes, and with impatience bleeding through your every movement, you slid back onto him. You did it quickly.

In the absence of adequate foreplay, entry wasn’t swift. Joel almost choked at the feeling of how tight you were around him—how rigid and warm and narrow you felt on that first slide. He planted a grounding hand next to your own out of sheer necessity. He held your hip in his other and swallowed a groan that seemed fit to nearly kill him.

“Sweetheart,” he panted against your neck, “Easy. Easy.”

You tried to nod your understanding but slid up just as fast. From a glimpse of your profile, Joel could make out some consternation fanning out. Your brows pinched.

The pretty, slick ‘o’ encircling his cock clenched again, and it was evident you were trying to force the motion back down against your body’s wishes. You whimpered a little and dropped your free hand between your legs.

Joel kissed your jaw. Your cheek. Your ear. Partly to remind you that he was fine to take things slow and partly to quiet his own hammering heart inside him.

It wasn’t working.

You were just so. fucking. tight.

“I— you gotta slow down, sweet pea,” he hissed through gritted teeth. Your walls pulsed again, and it nearly sent him spiraling. The second your ass met his hips and he was buried to the hilt, he stifled a groan into your neck.

“But I need you, daddy,” you whined, “Need you inside.”

Another grunt. Another moan. Another suffocating pulse.

“I’m gonna blow if we don’t slow down some, honey.”

It was mortifying, but it was the truth. Tonight, Joel just couldn’t seem to keep his cum confined to his balls like he normally could. Presently, they rested firm and heavy against the globes of your ass and were just then preparing to hit a rhythm as you rocked back and forth.

Your gaze flashed to his over your shoulder.

“That’s OK. You…you can— oh.”

Before you could finish that thought, your words were torn from your tongue and lost to a shuddering moan. His cock plunged deep within your soft and airtight channel, and your head lolled back a little more.

Out of habit, Joel pulled out and then plunged back in, feeling the wet clutch of you stretch around his cock.

“I can what, honey? What can daddy do?”

Lax as his voice made him sound, the man was coming apart at the seams; he had only to search your face for a fleeting, desperate moment, find you hungry as he was, and he thrusted even harder, absorbed the shockwaves of your pleasure while he fucked you up against the wall.

Gradually, the spatter of water on white glossy tile gave way to the sounds of your skin and his hitting again and again. Your face softened, and the once-taut walls eased to accommodate his girth. You squeezed Joel from base to tip, making the most obscene noises when he slid in and out, and from the look you gave him then, he could sense the need before it ever left your lips. He saw desire fill your pretty, glossy stare and felt compelled to sate it.

Again, it seemed you were begging him to stay.

Expression so pleading and sweet and soft.

“Daddy, I— I want you to cum inside me.”

Joel almost blew his load on the spot. His hips had to stutter in place—so taken aback by what you’d just said—but then you were bouncing back and forth again, neck craning to flash him the most winsome smile.

“Oh, honey…”

“Please.”

He’d finished in you before. It had been an accident. The night had ended with you and him hauling ass to the nearest CVS and hitting the Plan B like it owed you money. And now you were asking him to do it?

“I’m about to start my period. It’ll be fine.”

The half-starved look in your eyes said you’d been thinking about this for awhile. Maybe not with your rational brain, but certainly in earnest. Your smile said it.

Joel’s good sense was shot. He knew it was wrong. He was assured beyond a shadow of a doubt that if your dad ever learned he’d deliberately painted your insides white—or worse yet, knocked you up—his best friend would personally sever his dick and sauté it for lunch. Still, the urge to be joined with you in this brand new way was damn near debilitating. He couldn’t tell you no. So instead of doing what he should’ve done, he simply said:

“OK.”

For some reason, it felt wrong to finish in the shower. So he cut the water, toweled you both, and took you to bed. He slid under thin, sodden, wildly outdated motel sheets without letting his lips disconnect from yours once. He propped your legs around his hips and kissed you harder. He found a home within the furthest recesses of your body he could find, and his heart still throbbed for more. It was the best and worst agony, to be so delirious in the need for someone else, but each time you met him and accepted him in, his pleasure soared to new heights.

His cock dragged in and out of your heat in sloppy, shallow thrusts. He felt your wetness ease his passage and welcome him deeper, until the mouth of your cunt was stretched as taut against his base as it would go and your walls were pulsing with need. You squirmed underneath him. Your whines turned into whimpers, and the whimpers became ragged, hiccuping gasps as you clawed at his back and begged for more, more, more.

“‘M’so full. Feels so, so good, daddy,” you breathed.

“Yeah?” Joel said, and he glanced between your bodies to see you stretched and stuffed to the brim with cock. He groaned involuntarily. “I fit so nice, don’t I, baby?”

“You— you do, daddy. You do.”

“Can I fit a little more in?”

Your eyes widened.

As soon as realization dawned, you nodded your head and gripped him tighter. You hardly needed another stab of his hips, his thumb on your clit, or so much as a word spoken besides—at just the thought of being filled with his seed, your body seized in anticipation. It was you trembling, shuddering, clenching hard and reaching bliss before you even meant to get there, really. You were wholly overstimulated and clamoring for more, the pulses of your cunt milking his cock with all you had.

Joel scarcely had the presence of mind to get a syllable out, but he knew what he needed to say before his pleasure took hold. He smoothed a hand over your cheek, cupped it, and lowered his lips to yours, so only the cusp of his mouth and his stubble were grazing your open pout and the words he spoke were all yours to hear.

Sliding deeper. Meeting and holding your gaze with bare, uncontrived sincerity: “I’m yours, baby. I’m all yours.”

His balls tightened. He wanted to say more to set your mind at ease and assure you what you meant to him, but evidently, your bodies had other plans. In the next moment, he felt a familiar warmth spurt from his tip, and his hips jerked. His cock burrowed as deep within your wet, pliant walls as it could go, and he unloaded rope after rope of his cum. Joel let out a full-throated groan.

The wild hum of his pulse through his skull all but rendered him deaf to the sounds around him, but he knew he told you that he loved you; he knew you said it back. He felt you anchor your heels into the backs of his legs and accept him completely. You spent what felt like hours kissing, writhing, panting, and murmuring words of the warmest affection. In reality, this lasted seconds.

With you underneath him, in his arms, it didn’t matter.

“I love you, Joel,” you whispered again, smiling.

He grinned and kissed you, “I love you more.”

And he’d meant what he said: every inch of him was yours. Every moment you would let him have from that point forward, he’d spend showing you that he was there to stay. He didn’t care how long it would take to prove it.

For once, he didn’t care what your dad would have to say

[nerdlvr]

not so little is it?

(MDNI)

younger jaemin x older reader , small age gap , jaemin is brothers best friend , ur brother is mark lee , big dick jaem , jaem is bigger than reader , size kink if you squint , kinda public sex (ur both in the kitchen & living room and mark is in his room) , harsh blowjob , cowgirl yeehaw , couch missionary , jaemin is cocky and mean , pet names like a lot , light mocking , degradation kinda , jaemin refers to himself and y/n in third person sometimes idk , jaemin knows how to use his dick damn... , requested here !

it  had been the fifth time that night that you had called jaemin baby. and not baby in a i wanna fuck you type of way, baby in a little boy type of way. If only you could go into his brain and see all the things jaemin would do to shut you up. maybe he’d stuff your mouth with his big, hard-

“babyy, are you listening? The popcorns ready!”

jaemin felt his eye twitch, a small fake smile directed at your pretty face. he shook his head softly, turning his head back to focus on the movie.

“dude you need to stop calling him that, we’re not even that much younger than you.”

jaemin could not agree more with your brother.

he was never one to hold grudges, it was childish, unlike him. but for some reason you had been more annoying than usual tonight, the high pitched ‘baby’ and the sweet toned ‘minnie’ only itching him in all the wrong places.

he turned to the clock in mark’s room, 2:00 AM, well shit. had he really laid here for 3 hours straight thinking about your annoying mouth? his eyes drifted down to his now tented boxers, well double shit. maybe thinking about your mouth right next to your sleeping brother wasn’t the best idea. he needed a walk.

.

the cool air from the fridge numbed his senses, his nipples perking up at the soft breeze.

ice cream, butter, cheese, ew. did mark have anything without milk? wait isn’t mark lactose intoler- “his fridge looks like something out of a horror film right?”jaemin felt the hair on his body rise as he jumped, the fridge shutting loudly behind him, a hand coming up to his chest, “jesus you scared me.”

you giggled as you poked his bare chest, "sorry didn't mean to scare you baby. was just coming out for a snack."

baby, did you like to test his patience? he pushed your hand away as he let out a loud huff, "don't call me that."

your soft giggle continued to ring in his ears, your hands now moving to pinch the fabric of his boxers, "call you what, bunny boy?"

his eyes drifted down to his boxers, small bunnies adorning the fabric. he grabbed your wandering hand, smirking as you let out a pained whine. "does your mouth do anything good besides spout nonsense?"

you ripped your hand away from his tightening grasp, your free hand coming up to massage the sensitive skin,"what's your problem jaemin? i'm being nice to you and you're acting like a brat!"

your eyes widened slightlyy as a scoff left his mouth, lips quirking up into a smirk, "nice? you're treating me like a fucking child y/n. i stopped being little years ago. maybe you've been too busy bitching to even notice!"

your heads turned quickly as you heard shuffling from mark's room, his sleepy groans muffled by the thick walls.

"whatever tough guy, i'm leaving, your attitude ruined my appetite."

his arms were quick to stop you, trapping you against the kitchen counter, "where do you think you're going? where's my apology?"

it was your turn to scoff, eyes rolling at his questions. "apology? grow up na jaemin, you're not getting an apology if i did nothing wrong." you pushed at his chest, muscles firm against your hands. when did he get so strong? you mumbled out a low move embarrassed by your lack of strength against him.

he chuckled, breath fanning against your face, "give it one more go baby, maybe this time you might get it."

you bit your lip, head turning to look anywhere besides his bare chest, "this isn't funny, move or i'll-"

"you'll do what y/n?" he licked his lips, smirking down at you.

damn you na jaemin, damn you and those strong muscles, damn you and those plump lips, damn you and this new attitude that is so so hot. you gulped loudly, looking away as you tried to sneakily squeeze your thighs together, heat building between you legs.

"something wrong?"he leaned in closer to you, lips just one breath away. you turned your head further away from him, edge of the counter pressing deep into your back.

"you think being immature is cute jaemin? get off of me!"

he pressed his forehead against the side of your head, breath fanning against your ear. "no-"

he lifted his leg slightly, using his his knee to gently press against your core. you bit your lip to stifle a moan, head lowering just enough to watch his knuckles turn white against the counter. "but you clearly do. been squeezing these pretty thighs together since i started raising my voice at you."

you kept quiet, eyes squeezing shut as his knee pressed further against your heat, "who's the baby now hm?" you ignored him, brain zoning into to light pressure being applied to your clit, only a light hum being your response.

"answer me when i'm talking to you." your eyes fluttered open as he gripped your chin, moving your face so you'd look at him, "m-me jaem."

he tilted his head, smirk growing wider, "what was that?"

you swallowed your pride. there's no way you're gonna miss this opportunity. "i-i'm the baby jaem." he could help but chuckle, leaning in to plant a wet kiss on your cheek, "good girl, you learn quick. now lets put that bratty little mouth to good use."

you sunk onto your knees like your body was possessed, hands coming up to tug at his boxers. his cock sprung free, slapping his toned stomach. he was big, tip flushed and leaking.

his hand was quicker than yours, grabbing onto the base of his length to slap it against your cheek."not so little huh? call me baby again little brat."

"b-bab-" he chuckled as your words came out gargled, his cock being shoved into your mouth to silence you, "you look better with your mouth full." your eyes squeezed shut as you focused on your breathing, jaw relaxing slightly.

he was heavy on your tongue, smooth skin rubbing against the sides of your mouth. you hollowed your cheeks, sucking him in further. "shit angel, mouth so good, keep doing that."

you bobbed your head against him, spit threatening to spill past your lips. the sight above you was heavenly, pink hair held up with his hands as his mouth hung open. he let out soft pants as he tried his best not to thrust into your mouth. "let me- fuck- let me do it."

his hands moved into your hair to hold your head steady, hips starting to pick up a rhythm. you batted your lashes up at him, soft moans spilling from your mouth as he pressed deeper into your mouth, "look so pretty like this- just wanna-"

you gagged loudly as he pushed the rest of his length into your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat. he held you there, your nose pressed against his pubic hair as you swallowed around him.

his groans went straight to your core, thighs squeezing impossibly tighter. he pulled you off in one swift motion, laughing as you gasped for air, eyes watery and lips swollen.

"look at you-" he slapped your face lightly, "acting so grown and can't even take my cock- get up and turn around."

but you remained on your knees, whimpering as you wiped at your mouth. you hadn't noticed you were crying until jaemin leaned down, warms hands rubbing your cheeks, "awe you crybaby, minnie's cock got you all worked up hm?"

you pushed his hands away struggling to get up, legs sore from the kitchen tiles. his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you against his chest, "still so stubborn, baby just needs some good dick fucked into her so she'll learn hm?"

he laughed at your weak yelp, his arms lifting you up as he walked towards to living room, "now you're gonna show me how much you need this dick."

he sat on the couch, placing you right on his lap, face to face with you. "go on put it in." your cute pouts did nothing to him as he moved his arms to rest them on the back of the couch, head nodding to urge you to continue.

you whined softly as you hovered your hips over him, hand coming down to push your panties and sleep shorts aside. your cheeks burned as you both looked towards your heat, wetness dripping onto his length. he threw his head back as he let out a soft groan, "fuck baby, what would mark think about me having his big sis dripping all over me hm? like the idea of getting fucked by me that much?"

you nodded quickly shame evaporating from your body as you began to rub his tip along your soaking cunt. he hissed under you, his hands gripping the couch cushions, "don't tease baby, wanna feel you."

you sunk down slightly, hollowly fucking yourself on his tip. your bottom lip was trapped between you teeth, body leaned back as you gripped onto jaemin's thighs. he couldn't help but groan at the sight of you, body covered up by your pjs but your pussy on full display.

he moved his hand to your tummy, fingers slipping under your shirt to pull the fabric over your tits, "fuck, you little minx, look at you dripping on my cock- shit, keep going."

you whined loudly, soft pants leaving your desperate lips as you sunk down on him, the stretch hot against your walls."c-can't jaem, too-"

his hand gripped you breast, rolling your sensitive nipples against his fingers. he pouted up at you, a slight tilt to his head, "can't what baby, hm? minnie's dick to big for my little princess?"

you huffed in embarrassment, cheeks burning red as you threw your head back to hide.

"that's okay angel-" his hands traveled down to your hips, a light chuckle leaving his lips as he lifted his hips to meet yours. the loud slap of your hips vibrated against the living room walls, a soft cry leaving your lips as you leaned forward, stuffing your face into jaemin's neck.

"it's okay-" his hips began to move, your slick making it easy for him to slide against your walls, "you can take it baby see? you're so good for me- fuck"

you whined against his neck, walls tightening around his length as he slapped his hips up. "jaem, jaem, please, oh my- feels so good baby, so deep."

he laughed at your small squeak as he suddenly picked you up, placing you in the corner of the couch, your back pressed against the soft cushion,

"i'm gonna need you to be quiet now okay princess? don't want mark to know how good i'm fucking his big sis hm?"

you nodded quickly, mouth hanging open as he slid back into you without warning, a small moan leaving his lips. "fuck jaem i can't- just please, want it so bad jaem, plea-" your hand flew to your mouth to muffle your loud moans, his hips moving to repeatedly slam into you, his length angled in just the right position.

"fuckkk yes bunny, look at you. pretty pussy sucking me in so good." his pace was relentless, one of your hands having to muffle your moans and the other gripping his arm for stability. you sunk into the couch, cushions bouncing under you from each thrust.

he leaned down close to you, body radiating heat against your chest, "want you to cum baby, i'm so close, so clo- fuck yeah baby just like that, so fucking tight shit."

you squeezed around him your stomach tightening as his words filled your ears. all you could think about was jaemin. his strong arms surrounding you, his warm body enveloping you, his soft moans urging you to cream on him and- oh. he hand flew down to your core, finger pressing gently on your clit, "come on angel, cum for me, wanna feel it, need it baby, please."

you squeezed your eyes shut, teeth clamping around your hand as you arched your hips up. the tight feeling in your stomach radiating throughout you, body shaking as you let go.

he stilled inside you, head pressed into your neck to muffle his own moans as he came inside you, whimpers of your name leaving his lips as he panted against you, "fuck, fuck, fuck, so good, so good for me bunny, you did so good."

he kissed around your neck, lips trailing up onto your lips. the kiss was sweet, soft touch of his lips making your body tingle. his grip was warm against you as he held your trembling body.

"shhh, it's okay, you're okay-" he kissed your cheeks, hands rubbing your sides, "minnie's here baby, i got you, everythings-"

you sunk deeper into the couch as you heard the fridge door slam shut, watching as jaemin's eyes landed on the kitchen entrance, "jaem?" mark's sleepy voice broke the silence, "what are you doing out here?"

jaemin stuttered slightly, pink cheeks still evident against the dim lighting,"i- i was just-" you heard mark take a loud sip of something, clearing his throat after, "if this is about my sister- she's, she's just annoying, all that baby stuff is just her being annoying. you know- sometimes i even kinda feel like she might like you or something."

jaemin bit his lip, only a loud mhm being his response as his now soft length slid out of you, "yeah so, don't let it get to you jaem, get to bed alright?"

jaemin nodded, saying a quick goodnight as mark left his sight. he looked down towards you, a scared look on your face, "so you're into younger guys, huh bunny?"

your giggles filled the small space as you rolled your eyes, hand gently slapping his chest. he leaned down to plant a soft kiss on your lips, a wide grin on his face, "don't worry, i like bratty older women too."

[jenoslutie]

that's that me, espresso l y.jh

❥ Synopsis: Jeonghan fucks you hard, Jeonghan fucks you good. You both know that much, so why do you refuse to give him the time of day outside of bed?

❥ Genre: Smut, Desperate Jeonghan, Reader is closed off, one sided pining (until it's mutual), Fuckgirl!reader, Formula One drivers!Seventeen, Reader is a life guard (so is Joshua!) theres also like angst if u really squint.

❥ Warnings: *takes a deep breath* unprotected sex, degradation, praise, choking, implied face slapping, multiple sex scenes (like 3), creampies (ew i hate that word!!!), exhibitionism, jeonghan is a little mean during sex but its okay, jeonghan fucks her while seungcheol listens in but she does not know, fingering, oral, face fucking, car sex, jeonghan cums in her and makes her keep it inside while they play beach volleyball, reader likes to send videos of her sleeping with other people (cheol and josh) to jeonghan to mess with him. i think thats it.

❥ Word count: 8.6k

a/n: so im finally done this LMAOO. huge. huge. HUGE!!!! thank u to everyone who helped me with this fic @hanniesluvr my lovely aera my fellow jeonghan freak my WIFE!!! for keeping me motivated through this and matching my freak, @haologram for the banner and basically ghost writing this (if u like the whole f1 driver thing, thank alta :D) and @dearlyjun for using her big huge sexy brain and f1 knowledge and helping a girl out ANDD!!!! @jihyokat for beta reading i love u all MWAH <3 ANYWAYS!!! here she is <3 hope u enjoy :D

“You’re already leaving?” Jeonghan called out from behind you, watching as you redressed yourself. Jeonghan knew you never stayed. Well, you never stayed with him at least. 

You let out a laugh, ”You know I'm not staying” Jeonghan let out a groan at that, annoyed that he’s seen you stay the night with other hookups but not him. Why not Jeonghan? He was hot, he fucked good, he fucked hard (the way you like it), he fit all of the requirements that made him a good fuck buddy. So why did you refuse to spend the night with him every time you hooked up?

The answer was simple, you didn’t want to stick around when you know they’re gonna catch feelings. You know Jeonghan is going to get attached too easily if you keep staying. But there’s something about him that’s just too good to let go.

The first time you and Jeonghan had sex, it wasn’t like anything you’ve ever experienced before. Jeonghan was different. He single-handedly fulfilled all of your depraved fantasies on your first night together. You never thought that someone like Jeonghan would be so…nasty in bed but the second you followed him back to his car you were in for a surprise to say the least. 

For someone who looked like an angel, he sure didn’t act like one in bed. 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

You were invited to the party Jeonghan threw to celebrate his win in Las Vegas. Your best friend and second place winner tonight, Mingyu, drove you to the venue with him. You could hear the music booming before you even got to the entrance of the nightclub. It was huge and the only other person you knew at this party was Seungkwan, Mingyu’s teammate. 

The moment you were let into the club your eyes landed on Boo Seungkwan, the other man you were expecting to see tonight. His eyes locked with yours and immediately they lit up. He was conversing with Yoon Jeonghan, the man of the night and no matter how many times you’ve seen the man on TV, it’s nothing compared to the real deal. Jeonghan was nothing short of ethereal. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he was an angel on earth, not one of the top racers on the whole grid. 

“Y/n!” Seungkwan shouted over the crowd, your smiles mirroring each other as Mingyu led you through the ocean of bodies. “You look fucking stunning tonight dude” He left the group he was talking with to pull you away from Mingyu. You were aware of how good you looked tonight. You chose not to drive to the party tonight in plans of going home with someone at the party and you knew that you had to dress to impress. With your little black dress and matching stiletto pumps, you were sure you’d get someone to either A) buy you a drink or B) take you back to theirs. 

…Hopefully both? 

“Thanks Kwannie! I thought maybe I’d dress to impress tonight” Seungkwan snickered at that, “Why? got any plans tonight?” He wiggled his eyebrows, looking over your shoulder at Mingyu, implying you’d be going back to his place after this. Typical Seungkwan, he was always so determined to someday expose that you and Mingyu were secretly hooking up on the down low but that day won’t be soon. 

“Fuck no! You know damn well i would never fuck Mingyu of all people” Lies. You and Mingyu did hook up once and never again. Not that it was bad but because on your way out that day you met the one and only Choi Seungcheol, Yoon Jeonghan’s teammate at Ferrari. You and Seungcheol have been hooking up on the down low since. You wrapped up the conversation with Seungkwan and made your way around the club, searching for Mingyu. 

“Hey!” A tap on your shoulder caught your attention, You turned around and there was the man of the night, Yoon Jeonghan, you watched him give you a once over before meeting your eyes. “Hi! Jeonghan, right?” You were quick to introduce yourself, maintaining eye contact as best as you could. It wasn’t easy when his big brown eyes were looking deep into your own and to make it worse, his pretty face was glowing, the aftermath of a huge victory on the track today. 

“Are you looking for your boyfriend?” Jeonghan frowned, eyes searching around looking for whoever he supposed was your boyfriend. 

“Boyfriend?” You snickered, “Who’s my boyfriend dare I ask” 

“Mingyu, no?” 

You burst into laughter, hand resting on his shoulder for reassurance. “Mingyu is not my boyfriend, we’re just friends. And yes, I was looking for him” 

Jeonghan sighed in relief. “Thank God, Mind if I buy you a drink?” 

BINGO! 

Jeonghan led the way to the bar where he bought you your drink of choice, a Vodka Tonic. You were sitting on a bar stool with your back to the bar while Jeonghan stood in front of you, looking down at you and taking in your figure.  “You look amazing tonight by the way” He smiled at you as he watched you take a sip of your drink, smiling creeping onto your face at both the taste of your drink and the compliment. 

“Thank you, I put it on in hopes to go home with someone tonight” You gazed up at him expectantly.  

“Oh? Is that so?” Jeonghan smirked, stepping forward to situate himself between your legs, leaning his head down enough to where his lips were hovering over yours. 

“Wanna take me home?” You smiled with faux innocence, downing your drink before Jeonghan pulled you up and off your seat and out of the club. 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

The drive back to his hotel was exhilarating, Jeonghan feeling up your bare thighs while he drove while you leaned over the center console and pressed kisses all over his neck earning you halfhearted warnings. He knows you shouldn't be distracting him like that but he also knows he does not want you to stop, your lips on his neck almost making him lose focus of the road. 

Before you knew it, the two of you were back at his hotel room with his lips against yours in a desperate kiss while you were pressed up against the wall. Jeonghan’s hands wandered all over your body, feeling up every inch of your body that he could get his hands on. 

“Get me naked Jeonghan,” You let out a sound that was something even more desperate than a whine, but Jeonghan ignored your plea, continuing to attack your lips with his own, enjoying your pretty sounds as you got even more desperate for him to do something. 

“On your knees” Jeonghan ordered. A sudden shift in the atmosphere made you freeze. Jeonghan’s voice dropped an octave as he looked at you with lust filled eyes. “I’m not going to repeat myself” You instantly dropped to your knees and looked up at him, locking eyes with his own. 

“I’m going to use your throat like a fucking fleshlight. Okay?” Your body buzzed with excitement as you heard that, sure you’ve sucked cock before but never has anyone ever done anything like that. “Squeeze my thigh if you want me to stop” You only nodded enthusiastically and within an instant, he was ridding himself of his pants along with his boxers before he was pressing his hard cock against your open mouth. You eagerly sucked the tip of Jeonghan’s cock into your mouth, and began to tease the slit on the tip of his cock with your tongue. As you sucked his cock into your mouth, you could feel the wetness seeping out of your pussy. You did your best to ignore the urge to just have his cock in you. 

Jeonghan roughly pushed you all the way down on his cock making you gag immediately but you were quick to remind yourself to breathe through your nose. Jeonghan was pulling you up on his cock and slamming you back down with no relent. True to his word, he began to use you as if you were nothing but a toy, placing his hands on the sides of your face to get a better grip. His noises filled the room, tumbling out of his mouth in a way that only made you leak more on the floor of the hotel room. His one hand maneuvered to your hair, gripping tight as he began fucking into your mouth with even more force. In no time he was cumming down your throat, pushing your head all the way down his cock until his whole cock hit the back of your throat. 

“Get on the bed,” You obliged wordlessly, submitting to Jeonghan and whatever he wants of you. Making yourself comfortable on the bed, you gazed up at Jeonghan, watching as he stared down at you almost as if to mock the way you submit to him so easily. 

“Jeonghan-” Before you could finish Jeonghan delivered a light slap to your face. Muttering a small but stern ‘shut up’ 

"You speak when spoken to," he grits, glaring at you with dark eyes. He presses down on your cheeks, forcing your mouth open, you wince out in pain. “I’m gonna give you your safeword okay?” He didn’t really give you much room to agree before he assigned you a safeword, something easy for both of you to remember. You repeated it back to him to which Jeonghan smiled at your obedience. 

“Use it if you need to, okay? I won’t be upset if you do” Only after you nodded in understanding did Jeonghan inch closer to you to rid you of the rest of your clothes. He grinned when he caught a glimpse of your soaked pussy. “So wet already? Just from me fucking your face?” The question was rhetorical the way Jeonghan dropped to his knees, wasting no more time to dig his face between your legs. Dragging his lips between your slit, sucking your arousal onto his tongue. 

Tugging his shirt off, he fixes himself back between your legs. Letting out groans against your core, prompting you to moan out yourself. He presses a last kiss to your clit before pulling away.  He sits on the edge of your bed. “Sit that pretty pussy on my cock, slut.”  And again, you had no will in you to deny anything the man asks of you. Immediately making your way over and straddling his thighs. You take a deep breath before reaching down to guide him in. Feeling your stomach twist as the stretch slowly splits you open. Your eyes shut as you cry out at his thick cock stretching you open. “Why the fuck are you so tight. Holy shit” Jeonghan winces, his own eyes slamming shut at the feeling of your warm walls enveloping him in. 

“You’re too big—“ you whine, your head falling down to rest on his shoulder as you slowly begin to move up and down on his cock. But it didn’t go far before Jeonghan was wrapping his hands around your hips and taking over your movements with faster and harder ones of his own. 

You let out a string of moans at his intense pace making him chuckle. “Fucking slut. you like that dont you?” he gave a hard thrust, bottoming out inside your cunt. “Like getting fucked like this by a guy you just met, hmm?” You moaned out choruses of ‘yes’ as Jeonghan began rutting up into you. Moving a hand down to rub at your clit, your body jerked as you felt your high incoming. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum Jeonghan” Your voice came out in a high pitched whine as you rubbed your clit harder, body shaking as Jeonghan fucked you harder to help guide you to the edge. Your eyes roll back as your high hits you and Jeonghan helps you ride it out, not forgetting to kiss you through it too. The two of you with no care in the world for who can hear you. As the high of your orgasm dissipates, he flips you onto your back. He’s close too, you can tell by the way his cock is throbbing inside you and his thrusts turn erratic. 

“Cum inside Jeonghan.” You all but begged, Jeonghan moaning out before he also toppled over the edge. Cock throbbing erratically inside you as he emptied ropes of cum inside you. The two of you took a minute to calm your racing hearts before Jeonghan pulled out and flopped down on the bed next to you. 

“Holy shit” He huffed, looking over at your smiling face. “Please tell me you’ll give me your number” He was still out of breath and it only made you chuckle, rolling off the bed to pick up your purse from where he he face fucked you moments ago. Fishing out your phone, you unlocked it before handing it to Jeonghan who was nearly knocked out on the bed for him to put his number in and text himself. 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

Since the day you two hooked up at Jeonghan’s party, you’d started seeing each other more often. It’s not like you only seeked Jeonghan for your dick appointments. In reality Jeonghan was the one constantly calling and texting for when he can see you again. You won’t say that you minded it though. Sex with Jeonghan is an out of the world experience. Him making you feel highs you have never felt before with any other partner or yourself. 

As for Jeonghan? Jeonghan felt nothing short of smitten. Getting into his bed with anyone other than you made the most uncomfortable feeling arise within him and it had been practically days since he last saw you so he had to hit you up. 

jeonghan: i miss youuuuuuu  jeonghan: hi  jeonghan: cmon respondddddddd jeonghan: alright.. what position he got you in???  

you: [attachment: 1 video] 

You knew Jeonghan didn't expect you to actually send him a video of what position your last hookup had you in, you watched the video back and you couldn't help but get a little ego boost while watching yourself getting fucked by one of your coworkers, Joshua. He had you on all fours, hand gripping onto your waist as he fucked you.

Another thing you couldnt help is noticing how Joshua was not fucking you half as good as Jeonghan does. There's no bruises on your hips, there's no hair pulling, and the worst of all, there's no degradation. One thing about Jeonghan, for someone with such an angelic face, he has the nastiest mouth. It’s not something you're complaining about though, you would never complain about the way Jeonghan treats you in bed.

It wasn’t like Jeonghan was the only guy you could pull, never that. Jeonghan just happened to be one of the best guys you’ve ever slept with. Which might even be the only reason you keep going back to him. Something about the way he treats you just has you always craving more of him- not that you’d ever admit that to him but it was true. Jeonghan might call you all sorts of names in bed, treat you like some common whore, but right after he’ll always clean you up, attempt to hold you close, give you all the reassurance you need for you to know he doesn’t actually think you’re a common whore (not that it matters). 

jeonghan: what the fuck man… jeonghan: i’m about to have the saddest wank of my life  jeonghan: ^^^woah idk who said that jeonghan: might be the demons idk

you: have fun jeonghan <3

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you: hey, you wanna come play beach volleyball tmrw @3? 

seungcheol: hmm seungcheol: i dont think i can make it, seokmin wants to hang. 

you: boo you whore. 

[seungcheol disliked “boo you whore.”] 

If there's one thing you hate, it would be your job. Sitting in the sun for hours on end and staring at people who were obviously having a lot more fun than you were. You thought you could invite Seungcheol so you could play beach volleyball but apparently the universe didn’t want you to enjoy your shift. But that’s when it hit you, you could just invite Jeonghan. Surely he wouldn’t let you down. 

you: hey r u free tmrw? 

His reply was almost instant. 

jeonghan: yea, why?

you: wanna play beach volleyball at the beach i work at? 

you: i'm thinking around 3pm

jeonghan: i'm down, which beach is it? 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

You saw Jeonghan’s car pull up to the beach almost thirty minutes before your shift was supposed to start, giving you thirty minutes to spare before the rest of your coworkers piled in to start their shifts. 

“Hey, Beautiful” Jeonghan called out as he got out of his car, leaning back against it as you approached him. “Hi Handsome,” You smiled back as you watched him give you a once over, looking at you in your work uniform, a simple red bikini with the word ‘LIFEGUARD’ printed on it in white. Jeonghan leaned down so that he could whisper in your ear, “Do you think I can make you cum before your shift?” You nodded, not trusting your voice to do the talking, knowing you’d accidentally moan or whimper out loud. 

“Get in the car then” 

You didn't need to be told twice, immediately you hopped in the backseat of Jeonghan’s car and he followed suit. There wasn't much time for foreplay so he leans in, connecting your lips eagerly. As if he’s been craving this for years and is finally being satiated. The limited space doesn’t offer much room to maneuver but Jeonghan shifts in between your legs enough to grind his clothed cock against your barely clothed core. The whole situation arousing you beyond belief, about to fuck Jeonghan in the back of his car, parked someplace where anyone could see what was happening inside. You could feel your arousal seeping out of your pussy and staining the seat of your bikini. Moaning out into the kiss you pushed your hips into his own, urging him to do something. 

“Jeonghan do something” You urge him in a hushed whisper, barely able to get the words out with the way Jeonghan was grinding into you so deliciously. Jeonghan merely hummed in response, halting his movements to slide down his swim shorts and free his aching cock. 

“You realize how much of a slut you are for this hm? Letting me have you like this where anyone can see you, hear you, find out how much of a slut you are for me.” Jeonghan’s gaze was dark, almost mocking you. You let out some sort of groan at his words. A chill running down your spine at the thought of what Jeonghan is gonna do to you. Flashbacks of the first night you spent with him running through your head. Jeonghan was so rough in a way that no one else had ever been with you and you couldn't help but admit that you loved every second of it. Being too absorbed in your thoughts, you couldn’t respond back to jeonghan which earned you a slap across your face. Your cheek stinging at the contact but nonetheless making you clench around nothing. The feeling of your damp swimsuit sticking to your core making you wiggle your hips in discomfort. 

“Pay attention to me slut” Jeonghan seethed, wrapping a hand around your throat and putting just enough pressure to have your eyes fluttering shut. “Beg for it if you want it” Another slap to your face, this time it was harder than before. Your eyes tearing up a little before you squeaked out a little ‘please’  Another slap. 

“You can do better” 

“Please fuck me Jeonghan” You pleaded, a tear running down your cheek at the hit. 

“Try again” His voice was softer this time, rubbing his free hand over the spot he just slapped. 

“Jeonghan please” you whined. “ Want everyone to hear how good you fuck me please” You begged harder this time, hoping this would be enough for Jeonghan and boy were you right. He pushes the seat of your bikini to the side before repositioning himself and pushing his length into you, moaning in delight as your walls stretch to accommodate his size. You cry out in pleasure, the feeling of finally having Jeonghan in you making more tears roll down your cheeks. He doesn’t take it easy though, keeping a steady, rough rhythm from the start. Pounding you into his backseat while watching you lose yourself in the feeling of him ramming into you. “You love it huh? Tell me how much you love it” You didn’t have it in you to deny it, fully aware of the way you literally begged him for it moments ago. 

“I fucking love it Jeonghan”  You gasp, his hand reaching down to rub at your clit in harsh circles. 

“Does anyone fuck you like i do?” He grunts, rocking his hips into yours harder, as if it was even possible with the way he was fucking you so hard you were positive anyone passing by could see the car visibly shaking. 

You shook your head immediately, “No one fucks me like you do” You confirm. Jeonghan hummed, your answer satisfying him enough that he tightened his hand around your neck once again and rubbing your clit with the other hand. The head of his cock fucks into your most sensitive spot and you feel all the thoughts in your head slowly disintegrate. Head full of only Jeonghan. You urgently reached out to grab onto something to steady something, quickly opting for his hand that was wrapped around your neck. You gripped his forearm with both hands, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your vision goes unfocused as your orgasm hits, letting out weak moans and gasps as the feeling consumes you entirely. Feeling it course through your whole body all the way down to your toes. Your walls constrict around Jeonghan the whole time, urging his own orgasm to hit him fast. 

“Gonna cum” Jeonghan warns. His thrusts turn erratic as he lets out a string of guttural groans. 

“Inside” You plead, “Need you to fill me up again please Jeonghan” Jeonghan moans loudly at that, your begging pushing him all the way over the edge. His eyes shut tightly and he groans out loudly. His body tensing up as he fills you up entirely. 

“Gonna be a good girl and keep that inside you yeah? All your little friends oblivious of the way you just begged me to slut you out” Heat rushed to your cheeks at the way Jeonghan was humiliating you but you agreed either way. Jeonghan’s eyes lit up when you nodded your head with a small smile. He took time to calm down before he slipped out of you wordlessly, ignoring the way you whine at the feeling of emptiness and fixing your bikini bottoms to cover you up again. 

After fixing himself up he spoke up again, “Can I kiss you?” Jeonghan asked, rather shyly, his demeanor a stark contrast to the Jeonghan that was pouding you into his backseat moments ago. You chuckled at his sheepishness. “Yes Jeonghan you can kiss me” Your voice was small but he didn’t hesitate to press his lips onto yours once again, this time the kiss was much softer than before. His hands cupping your cheeks as he used his thumbs to wipe your tears. 

You pulled away first. “Let’s get going? I think I’m already late” 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

“Why the fuck is he here?” Jeonghan muttered from beside you, watching as his teammate, Seungcheol approached your group. Ever the show off, Seungcheol was wearing only a pair of black swim shorts, showing off his toned body for everyone at the beach to see. 

You turned to where Jeonghan was looking and lo and behold, there was Choi Seungcheol. You and Seungcheol had….history. Well, not really history but you two have been fucking for a couple months and you were fully aware that he is Jeonghan’s teammate and its not like you were picking out the Ferrari drivers in specific to sleep with. The two of them were the ones who came onto you first. 

“Seungcheol?” You gasped, not expecting him to show up after rudely (not really) canceling on you. You felt Jeonghan’s arm tentatively wrap around your waist as Seungcheol approached. 

“Hey baby!” Seungcheol grinned, completely ignoring Jeonghan on your side, with his arm obviously wrapped around your waist. You heard Jeonghan mutter a small ‘baby??’ under his breath while continuing to faux nonchalance. 

“Hi Cheol! I thought you were gonna hang with Seokmin today?” 

“Well, I was, but Seokmin had to meet with Chan today” He shrugged, smiling wider showing off his stunning smile that initially captivated you. 

“Oh! Cheol, this is Jeonghan” You were quick to detangle yourself from Jeonghan’s arms, standing awkwardly in between the two men who were finally forced to make eye contact (thanks to you) 

“This is the new guy you fuck? Really? Had to be my teammate?” Seungcheol scoffed, losing the smile once adorning his face. 

“ Uh yeah, Hannie, this is Seungcheol.” 

“The other guy you fuck.” 

“Well, yes.” 

Jeonghan wasn’t too phased at first, especially considering it was Jeonghan’s cum currently inside you and not Seungcheol’s. Jeonghan sighed before speaking out once again, 

“Okay...let’s play ball?” 

“Let’s play.” And the three of you set out to join the rest of the group where they played volleyball. 

Jeonghan teamed with three of your three coworkers, Soonyoung, Yuta and Xiaojun. While Seungcheol teamed with your other coworkers, Vernon, Jaehyun and Joshua (yes, the same Joshua). You self appointed yourself as the referee for the round because you obviously didn’t want Jeonghan’s cum splattering out of you while you played.

That would not be ideal in front of your coworkers. 

As the round started, you noticed that Seungcheol in particular was putting a little too much effort into this, as if he had something to prove. Which you weren’t wrong, he did. He wanted to prove he was way better than Jeonghan at this (among other things.) but Jeonghan was hitting the ball back with little to no effort. 

You watched, amused as the two men on the court played as if no one else was around, as if it was a battle and they had to get past each other to make it to the final round. You think it might 

You were right, Seungcheol did have something to prove. He wanted to prove that he was the better one out of the two of them, as if it wasn’t Jeonghan’s cum currently in you. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a LOUD shriek. Only to see that Xiaojun was on the floor, holding his head in his hands while he cried out pathetically. 

“Xiaojun what happened!?” You ran towards the man on the floor.

“Seungcheol spiked the ball and it hit Xiaojun’s head” Soonyoung explained hurriedly, jumping in to do a poor attempt of CPR on him (though he’s a lifeguard. You’re not too sure how he got hired in the first place). 

“Get off me!” Xiaojun screamed when Soonyoung leaned in to give him mouth-to-mouth. 

“I got hit in the head I don’t need CPR idiot”

You did notice though, Seungcheol and Jeonghan were still playing amongst each other, not a clue in the world that they just took Xiaojun out and everyone was crowding around him. Well not anymore, Xiaojun was up and crowded away with Yuta and Soonyoung. You’d assume he was talking mad shit about the man who hit him in the head and didn’t even care to check on him. 

Typical Xiaojun. 

Also typical Seungcheol. 

As the round progressed, Xiaojun and Soonyoung dipped first, going off to get back to their jobs, then Yuta and Jaehyun also went on to do their own things and take care of their shift duties until finally Joshua and Vernon were about to head out too. 

“Dude, what the hell is their problem?” Joshua murmured, rolling his eyes at the two men still actively playing ball without noticing the absence of the others. 

You shrugged, “They’re both teammates and mad that I’m fucking them both. They both have something to prove to the other” You leaned in closer to whisper to Joshua.

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

jeonghan: hi y/n :) you: hi jeonghan :) 

jeonghan: i wanna see you :( 

you: aw really? 

you: my jeonghannie wants to see me o.O

jeonghan: yes :(  jeonghan: please? 

You snickered as you hit send on the video. A video of you while you were on your knees for a man whose face was not in the frame. With your lips wrapped around his cock - though unable to fully wrap around him. While you hollow your cheeks, lowering further down. The man grips your hair, holding your head still as you gag around his cock. 

“You’re such a good girl, taking me like a champ, princess.” He praises you. Hips bucking forward letting out raspy groans. 

That’s when he sees it. 

What was it? It was a silver ring with the word ‘Ferrari’ engraved on it adorning the man’s pinky finger, identical to the one on his own. 

The same ring that only two people would have. Him and his fuckass teammate.  

You fucking sent him a video of you sucking off Seungcheol.  

jeonghan: is that who i fucking think it is?? jeonghan: be so fucking fr. 

jeonghan: i'm coming over. 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

“Please give it to me, fuck, Jeonghan,” you stuttered, breaking away from the kiss to whine against his lips. He spent much too long rubbing his tip along your slit and you could not stand it anymore, you needed him in you immediately. 

 “Why don’t you ask Seungcheol hm? I’m sure he’d give you what you want more than I will”  His tone was taunting, he was obviously still bitter about the stunt you pulled earlier.  Not that it bothered you though, it just made the sex even more exhilarating. To know that Jeonghan is actually bothered by the video made you feel sort of giddy. 

You whined when he sunk barely just the tip inside of you before pulling it out again. Your  grip in his hair tightening as you felt the need to have him buried deep in you grow more and more. “Wanna cum on your cock. I wanna feel it inside me so badly. Please. Please give it to me.” You whined more, hoping Jeonghan would give in and he did, pushing into you ever so slowly but he made up for it by pressing his lips onto yours again. 

“You know I’m not going easy on you tonight, right?” Your lover of the night bottomed out in you, smiling at the way he could see you going dumb on his cock and he hasn't even done anything yet. 

“God, I’d hope not”

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

You haven't seen Jeonghan or Seungcheol in two weeks. 

Seungcheol has been AWOL but Jeonghan has been texting you nonstop. It was nothing sexual like the first few times he texted you. It was wholesome? Texts full of Jeonghan checking up on you, asking about you, wondering if you had eaten etc. 

This time however, Jeonghan texted you something different? 

An article. 

F1 - Ferrari sealed 1-2 in Silverstone ahead of Kim Mingyu. 

you: what the fuck is a 1-2 and why did ur team seal it 

jeonghan: i won p1 and seungcheol won p2 jeonghan: party tomorrow  jeonghan: ill end the deets. i better see you there

you: wtf?? thats AMAZING jeonghan congrats <33333  you: yeah, send the details ill be there :)  you: see you tomorrow!

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

You weren’t used to seeing Jeonghan and Seungcheol in the same setting, not after that hell of a volleyball game. And apparently you won't see them together this time around either because you’ve been at this party for half an hour and have seen every other driver on the grid except the two men you actually wanted to see.  You decided you’d just sit at the bar and sip on yet another vodka tonic. You watched the rest of the partygoers drink away and dance together while you sat here miserably waiting to find any of your two fuck buddies. 

Until you were pulled from your misery by none other than Seungcheol. 

“And why do you look so miserable?” He asked, taking a seat next to you. Your face lit up at his voice, “Cheol!” You grinned for the first time since you got here. 

“I’ve been by myself all night, Jeonghan invited me but i haven't seen him anywhere” You shrugged. Seungcheol watched as you downed the rest of your drink before he led you away from the main party area, pulling you into a dim corner. 

“You know, I’ve been dreaming about your lips on mine since the last time you came over” Your lips curled into a smirk at that, “Yeah? Are you gonna do anything about it?” 

Oh, he was. 

Seungcheol angles his head to perfectly lower his lips onto yours. Like any kiss with Cheol, it has you dazed and yearning for more, your fingers gripping at his shirt to pull him as close to you as possible.

You both part for air momentarily,looking into eachothers eyes with equally dazed stares. your heart racing from the thrill of making out with him where anyone could catch the two of you, not that you mind, but you’re sure Seungcheol’s career might. Though the thought doesn't last long until Seungcheol searches for your lips again, pressing his mouth hard against yours with not a care in the world as to who may see you. 

Except the only person who saw you was none other than Yoon Jeonghan. 

There was no word to describe how upset Jeonghan felt at that moment. You came to a party he invited you to, celebrating mainly him, where he spent an hour looking for you and youre making out with his fuckass TEAMMATE?

There were only two people that could save Jeonghan now. 

Mingyu and Seungkwan.

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

After he had to witness you and his teammate down each other’s throats the other day. Jeonghan is on a mission to win you over. There is no way he’ll let Seungcheol of all people get his girl. 

Seungcheol wasn’t even looking to settle, Jeonghan was.

According to your two closest friends, Mingyu and Seungkwan, there were 3 things that Jeonghan could do that would win you over. Which happened to do with the 3 things you loved the most. 

Music, Food, Sports.  

…Well, that was the only input they gave him. He just had to figure the rest of it out himself. 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

First thing: Music.

That was quite…simple? All he had to do was show you his fire music taste! 

So the next time he picked you up he’d just blast his tunes in the car and that’d be sure to have you swooning. 

Jeonghan rang your doorbell at 7:00pm on the dot. He seemed to have this whole evening planned out and you knew nothing except a text the day before asking if you were free at 7 today and it went on from there. He did specify to dress casual so you wore just a pair of shorts and a black tank top. 

“Hey” You smiled wide, opening the door to see an equally casually dressed Jeonghan. 

“Hey, you look cute.” You grinned at the compliment, gesturing inside for Jeonghan to come in but instead he just shook his head. 

“Let’s go, I’ve got plans for us” 

Jeonghan spent a good ten minutes trying to connect his bluetooth to his car, assuring you that you’d love the songs he’s picked out for tonight only to play the most ratchet music you think you’ve ever heard. 

“What the hell is this Jeonghan?” You grimaced, appalled by his choice of music 

“It’s Mozart!” 

“How the fuck does that make it better?” 

Jeonghan only sighed and handed you his phone with his music app opened. 

“Play whatever you want” 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

Second thing: Food

Jeonghan’s attempt to be…romantic? Was not as successful as you think he’d hoped. His plan was to cook together while sipping wine and have a cute little night. 

Cooking with someone was not something you enjoyed. 

Jeonghan was on vegetable duty while you were on sauce duty. Though time with Jeonghan was enjoyable, what you did not enjoy was him repeatedly coming in your way while you maneuvered around the kitchen. 

“Jeonghan, MOVE” Your frustration reached its max when Jeonghan was hunched over, eyes watery from the onions he was cutting but he was hunched right in the middle of the kitchen, leaving you with no space to pass. 

“I CAN’T SEE” He screeched, finding his way over to the sink in an attempt to rinse out his eye. 

God, he’s such a dork. 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

The last part of Jeonghan’s plan was to woo you with Sports. 

There was no better sport to enjoy with you other than his own! He’ll just invite you to the race this week! 

jeonghan: hey jeonghan: you wanna come to the race this weekend? Its in hungary its gonna run friday-sunday but we arrive on thursday  jeonghan: tix on me :) 

you: wtf?? of COURSE i want to go :O 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

And just like that, you found yourself in a hotel in Hungary on a random Thursday morning. Well, it wasn’t random, you were invited to the Hungarian Grand Prix by none other than Yoon Jeonghan himself. 

Speaking of, Jeonghan had asked if you wanted to go explore the village with him on your off day and who were you to deny an offer like that? So here you were, rushing your makeup at 9 in the morning. Jeonghan was supposed to come to your room at about 9:30 so you have less than thirty minutes to be ready and out the door. 

Jeonghan showed up at your hotel room at 9:30 on the dot, wearing a variant of an outfit youve seen him wear a million times, baggy jeans with an oversized shirt. True Jeonghan fashion you’d say. 

“Good morning beautiful” He greeted, walking into your hotel room and closing the door behind him before backing you up against the wall. 

“Good morning handsome” You can't lie and say you didn't internally cringe at that, no matter how true the words actually were. Jeonghan himself grimaced, his face centimeters away from your own “Never say that again please” 

You rolled your eyes, “God forbid a woman try complimenting a man for once” 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

You and Jeonghan spent all day exploring the city. Going from coffee shop to coffee shop, spending hours walking aimlessly around and even checking out the track. You  enjoyed Jeonghan’s company more than you’d like to admit. Jeonghan was a witty guy. He was funny, hot, really fucking good in bed but most of all he was genuine. That’s one thing you loved about Jeonghan that Seungcheol didn’t have. Where Jeonghan’s intentions with you were clear as day, Seungcheol? You were not too sure what the fuck his intentions were with you. 

You knew you weren’t technically supposed to dig this deep into either of them. After all, they were just your fuckbuddies, people you only saw when you were horny and needed release but you still couldn't help but feel more drawn to Jeonghan than you did Seungcheol. 

Jeonghan was a genuinely good person whose company you actually enjoyed and you knew he did enjoy yours too. Seungcheol however ignored all your texts until he was the one that needed release and you didn’t have a problem with that until now.  Until Jeonghan brought it up. 

“You know, I really like spending time with you. Aside from the sex” It came from out of the blue when the two of you were walking back to your hotel. 

“So the sex just sucks huh?” You looked at him with a mischievous grin 

“You know that’s not what i meant” 

“I know, I really enjoy spending time with you too Jeonghan” He smiled at that, pulling you closer by the hip until you were pressed right by his side. The two of you walked in a comfortable silence until he spoke up again. 

“You know, you should stop seeing Seungcheol” 

You chuckled, this wasn’t the first time Jeonghan has hinted towards how much he doesn’t like you fucking his teammate. 

“Yeah, okay” 

“I'm serious! It might have to do with the fact im like fucking obsessed with you or the fact that I know Seungcheol doesn’t want you like I do but I swear, the way i want you does not compare to the way he wants you” Your eyebrows raised at that, you knew you prefer Jeonghan over Seungcheol but hearing him tell you why you should pick him over Seungcheol is just all the more satisfying. 

“Why do you think so?” 

“Because-!” He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands, not wanting to tell you how much he wants you. How he stays up thinking about how it’d be if you were his. 

“Because I like you beyond the sex, I want a relationship with you. I don’t wanna have to share you with anyone because I’m greedy and I want you for myself. I wanna show you off as mine without anyone else coming in the way. I want you Y/N” 

You stopped in your tracks, prompting him to stop with you as well. “You want to date me?” 

“Really fucking bad. Please let me?” 

“Okay” You nodded, acting nonchalant on the outside when you were actually going fucking insane on the inside. “I’ll be your girlfriend but only if you ask me out properly” Jeonghan all but jumped for joy, screaming a couple choruses of “YES!!” 

“Y/N, light of my life, will you please be my girlfriend?” he playfully rolled his eyes

“I’d love to!” you smiled wide, his own smile mirroring yours before he leaned in to kiss you sweetly, in the middle of a street in Mogyoród. 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

The next morning, Seungcheol was just doing his normal pre race rituals when all of a sudden he heard an awful lot of giggling just outside of his room. 

What the hell could be so funny right before a race? 

He swung his door open only to see Jeonghan sitting on the couch while you sat on his lap, one leg on either side of him while the two of you smooched away like a couple of highschoolers on their first date. 

“I think I can come P1 today! After All, I have my beautiful girlfriend here to cheer me on” Jeonghan teased, cupping your face so he can press yet another kiss to your lips. 

“Yeah? Good luck out there boyfriend. I’ll be cheering for you” 

Girlfriend??? Boyfriend??? Since fucking when? The last time Seungcheol remembers, you were not looking for anything close to even a situationship, let alone a relationship. 

That kinda explains it too, you’d been too busy with your stupid boyfriend to return any of his calls or texts for the past few days too. This is exactly why Seungcheol hated couples. Gross. 

Screw Yoon Jeonghan, he stole his girl in plain sight. 

Well, not really his girl. Realistically Seungcheol was just tryna hit. Much like yourself until you met Yoon fucking Jeonghan. 

Cheol knew he wasn't all that upset about the situation but he had to mess with Jeonghan just for the fun of it and man was he geeked. 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

You couldnt fucking believe what you were seeing. Today was the day of the first two free practices and the only two drivers on the track who were not behaving were none other than your very own. 

Normally, Jeonghan and Seungcheol would stay very…civil during their races but something was off today. Jeonghan was minding his business, leading the race like he usually does until in comes Choi Seungcheol and overtakes him. 

So naturally, Jeonghan starts to speed up and get back in the lead. Which lasts maybe a minute until in comes Choi fucking Seungcheol again and runs him off the track. 

What the hell was Seungcheol’s problem today? 

The race continued to be a mess of Seungcheol messing with Jeonghan, overtaking him then running him off the track and repeating it. You could tell Jeonghan was getting frustrated. Hell, even you were getting frustrated. 

Did Seungcheol find out about you and Jeonghan? 

God, you’d hope this wasn't the result of Seungcheol’s…jealousy? There really wasn't anything to be jealous about on his end but still, if it was, that’s not okay and you were going to speak to him about it. The race went on like that, with Cheol repeatedly provoking Jeonghan and Jeonghan fighting back. You could hear the chattering of the people around you talking about the two of them and how it was ‘so odd that they’re acting this way!’ 

As expected, Jeonghan came P1 and Seungcheol came P3. P2 was none other than your best friend, Boo Seungkwan! The race went surprisingly well after the second to last lap and continued to trail behind Jeonghan who was in P1.

“Jeonghan!” You squealed, embracing him in the tightest hug possible but immediately pulling away when you made contact with his sweaty body. 

“Baby” He whined, pulling you back into his embrace, ignoring your noises of protest. You gave up the fight without much convincing, hugging him back tight and congratulating him over and over. 

“Wait, I’ll be back.” 

You excused yourself from Jeonghan and went on to find the one and only..

“Choi Seungcheol!” You muttered, aggressively making your way over to the ever so sweaty man sipping away at his Hydrorace water bottle. 

“Hey gorgeous” He cheekily smiled at you, pulling the straw away from his lips. You scoffed, annoyed by how calm he seemed after what he pulled out on the track today. 

“Don’t ‘hey gorgeous’ me, what the hell was that on the track today? You know either one of you could have gotten hurt, right?” You were practically fuming. 

“You know I'm smart enough to not let either of us get hurt out there right?” He mimicked your tone. Whatever he said didn’t matter in the moment, you were too heated to even think straight. 

“Talk to me when you’ve calmed down, Y/N.” And with that, he walked away from you. 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

 It was finally time for confrontation. 

You pulled out your phone camera to make sure you look decent enough to confront Seungcheol. Once you made sure you looked okay, you tucked it away in your  back pocket. Taking a deep sigh before knocking on Seungcheol’s hotel room, waiting for him to open the door. “Hey, Cheol…” You greet hesitantly, stepping inside and closing the door behind you, locking it shut just in case.

“Y/n…it’s so nice to see you!” Seungcheol smiled bitterly. “After you practically blew up on me in front of everyone today.” His fake ass smile dropped. 

You grimaced, hiding your face in embarrassment. “Don’t be like that, I just want to apologize.” You offered a small smile. 

“Delta time can be time too late, Y/N.”

If there was an embodiment of a question mark, it would be you right now. “You know I don't understand when you use racing speak, Seungcheol.”

“Delta time…anyway, just, don’t worry about it. I know you made your choice. Especially by the way you just full-named me. ” 

“Cheol-”

“We had a good run, yeah? don’t worry about it.” He smiled, “This doesn’t mean I don’t want to be friends though you know. I just want you to be happy even if it’s not with me and with my…teammate.” You could sense the lack of sincerity at the end. Seungcheol was not happy about this and you knew that. 

“Thank you Cheol” You smiled, opening your arms and offering him a hug which he gladly accepted, engulfing you in the most warm hug you’ve ever received from him. 

It wasn’t easy to let Cheol go but you had to do this for Jeonghan. 

You were the first to pull away from the hug. You gave him a smile before turning on your heels. 

“See you at the race on Sunday?” 

“You know it.” 

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

“It’s just me and you baby” Jeonghan breathed against your lips, pinning you up against the wall and relishing in the way you sigh out in relief when he finally presses his lips to yours. “Be as loud as you want love” 

Jeonghan knew damn well it was not just the two of you, somewhere in one of the stalls was Seungcheol. He was about to walk out when he heard you and Jeonghan at the door and ran into a stall to avoid being caught. 

“Please Jeonghan” You whimpered when he pulled away to trail his lips down your neck, “Touch me, please?” 

“I am touching you”  

“Jeonghan” Your voice raises a pitch. Jeonghan can’t stand it, he loves how your squirm and whimper, so desperate to get fucked by him. Something in him loves how pretty you sound when you beg, especially when you scream his name with your eyes rolling back into your head. 

“Please, please fuck me…”

“Shut up.” He groans, proceeding to jackhammer two fingers inside of you. You yelped in surprise, leaning back onto the wall, gripping onto Jeonghan’s arm to hold yourself up. Jeonghan’s other hand trails up and covers your eyes. Hold around your head tight, leaving you more vulnerable to his ministrations. 

“I want your cock Jeonghan, please” He loved that your noises were getting louder but he knew that when you finally got his cock you’d be even louder. Just what he wants for your little audience. Jeonghan halts his fingers in you and smears the wetness all over your aching pussy. 

“Pussy’s so wet for me, know why?” Jeonghan smirks,  “Cause you’re a fucking slut, and all sluts know how to do is take cock.” And without warning, he glides the entirety of his length in at the same time and you were left gasping at the stretch. 

“J-Jeonghan..” you moaned loud, “You’re so fucking big. Oh my fucking God.” Jeonghan chuckled, setting a brutal pace from the start. You could never get tired of fucking Jeonghan, every time with Jeonghan bringing you to a new wave of euphoria even you couldnt fathom. 

“Yeah? Who fucks you this good huh?” Jeonghan wrapped his hand, previously covering your eyes around your throat and applying just enough pressure to make you see stars. “You, Jeonghan! Only you can fuck me this good” His thrusts were sloppy but they were so hard and deep. Tears rolled down your cheeks with every thrust as your body buzzed with pleasure.

“Good fucking girl” He praised, “You’re so good to me aren’t you?” You couldn’t respond. You don’t think you had it in you to say anymore. Just letting moan after moan leave your lips as you writhed under his hold. 

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, smiling at the way you attempted to kiss him back. 

“My pretty girl, only mine.” 

[seungkw1]

ring my bell  — ljh

♡ pairing: neighbor!jihoon x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni] ♡ wc: 7k ♡ warnings: sub!reader, but also subby!jihoon, size kink, praise kink, auralism/ecouteurism, masturbation (m. & f.), oral (m. & f. receiving), unprotected piv sex (do not do this), cum swallowing, creampie, cockwarming, dacryphilia, size kink, hair pulling, gagging, missionary, 69, nipple play/boob worship, multiple orgasms, sex toys, mild alcohol consumption, did i mention size kink, lil fluff at the end ♡ a/n: i abandoned this fic at least five times lmao but then one night at like 2am the brain rot took over and here we are! tysm to @wonwovy for beta reading, @shinysobi for the title suggestion, and @miniseokminnies for help w the photos <3

When you moved into your new condo, you were pretty sure you hit the jackpot. At first, you were a bit suspicious - how could the rent be so low in this part of town, with such a nice building? But for two months after you moved in, you’ve had no problems. Sure, the shower head is a bit leaky sometimes, and you could use a bit more storage space, but overall - no complaints. As an added bonus the unit next to you was vacant - aka, peace and quiet. Perfection. 

That vacancy didn't last forever, though. Two months in, and you found yourself with a new neighbor. You haven't had a chance to properly introduce yourself to him yet, but from the brief glimpses of him you've gotten he seems nice. You suspect he's around your age, a bit quiet, definitely keeps to himself but has been very polite in passing. And while he's not exactly your type, you do admit he is pretty cute. So, nothing wrong with him. 

You did, however, quickly discover two major problems. One, it turns out the walls are paper fucking thin. And two - to make matters worse - his bedroom is apparently right on the other side of yours, sharing a wall. And you can hear everything. 

By the sounds of it, the guy is single. You never hear any other voices, just his - soft moans emanating through the sad excuse for a wall, gradually getting louder, culminating in a symphony of unholy noises. You've never heard a man be so… vocal before. 

At first, you just try to ignore it. Obviously, he's doing nothing wrong - this is simply a consequence of shared living spaces. So you do your best to mind your business. 

Easier said than done. 

A week passes. You still haven't had a chance to actually say hi to your new neighbor, but you already feel like you've become intimately acquainted with him. It feels a bit… wrong. This is very clearly a one-sided situation. You don't even know the guy’s name for fuck’s sake. Yet, each time, a sharp aching sensation forms a pit in your stomach. You find yourself fantasizing about him -  wishing you could be on the other side of the wall, wishing you were the one responsible for the sounds being produced. 

You've gone and fallen for a complete stranger - or at least, the idea of him. Fucking great. 

You just need to actually meet him, you tell yourself. He could be a complete asshole. Or maybe just not your type at all. Once you say hi, you'll get over this silly little fantasy in no time. 

I’ll make sure to run into him tomorrow, you determine. You go to bed, content with your plan. 

Not five minutes after you crawl under the covers, you start to hear faint groans. 

You reach for your airpods, but they're not on your nightstand. You must have left them in the other room. 

It’s fine, you decide. It’ll be over soon enough. 

But tonight, apparently, he is taking his sweet time. 

You stuff your head under the pillows, trying to drown out the sensual sounds, but the moaning persists. Even muffled it’s loud - and it only gets worse as the minutes pass. 

Just when you think he’s about to finish, the sounds cease. Thank god, you think as you roll over, ready to finally get some sleep. 

But a minute later he starts up again. Slowly at first, once again taking his time, increasing his speed at an excruciatingly slow pace. Eventually his breaths grow shorter, his groaning louder. Then, he stops. 

As if he set out to torment you tonight, he begins once more.  

You lay there, eyes closed, unmoving, breathing deeply, trying to ignore the aching between your legs. But it's impossible. 

The third time around, he's clearly very on edge. His moans turn loud, whiny, pathetic. It's probably the hottest thing you've ever heard. 

Don’t do it don't do it don't do it…

As if your arm has gained a mind of its own, your hand slides beneath the fabric of your underwear. You gasp as your fingers slip between your folds - you're fucking wet. 

Your already-throbbing bud pulsates between your fingers. Slowly, you begin to rub your clit. The sensation is immediately overwhelming; the uninhibited cries of pleasure emanating from the other side of the wall are enough to send you over the edge. Just when you think you can't take another moment of this, he cums. And so do you. 

Your free hand clasps over your mouth just in time. You try as hard as you possibly can to stay silent - but you want to scream. You writhe against the sheets to the sound of his release, riding out your orgasm on your fingertips. Muffled cries escape despite your efforts - but are lost amidst the man’s sea of moans. You cum long and hard, savoring every last moment of your high. 

As you start to come down, you sink into your mattress, body spent, mind drifting off. Your neighbor seems to have exhausted himself too - the only sounds carrying through the wall now being that of deep breaths. 

So much for running into him tomorrow. 

You flop over onto your side, shoving the thought away - but you know even if you try, you can't avoid him forever. 

You just pray to god he didn't hear you. 

Of course, after a week without any encounters, you manage to run into him the very next day. 

Upon returning from the grocery store, you head to your building’s elevator. The doors are closing as you approach, so you figure you'll just take the next one - but the occupant holds the door for you. 

“Thank you,” you say cheerfully, but as you step inside your stomach drops. You are face to face with your new neighbor.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, making direct eye contact with you. You want to disappear into the walls, but you maintain your composure. The button for your floor is already lit up, so he presses the close door button. 

“I believe I just moved into the unit next to yours,” he says as you set your heavy bags on the floor. “I've seen you around but haven't had a chance to introduce myself. I’m Jihoon.”

He extends his hand out to you. You instantly regret setting your bags down. 

You smile calmly, hoping he doesn't notice how flustered you are. But as you slide your hand into his, your heart rate rises. It doesn't help that he has really nice hands - large, warm, with fingers long and graceful, and a nice strong grip against your own hand. Your mind flashes back to the events of last night, picturing what those hands were doing…

Stop it. 

“I’m y/n,” you reply with a smile, trying to be as normal as possible. “Nice to meet you.”

You withdraw your hand from his grasp as he lets go - nonchalantly, but with haste. Any longer and your palms would have probably started sweating. 

“So, how are you liking it here so far?” you ask casually. 

“So far so good,” he replies. “I'm honestly surprised that I was able to find anything in this part of town for such a good deal. Nice and quiet here too.”

Quiet. 

You fear your suspicions are correct: he has no idea he's been putting on a nightly show for you. 

The elevator gives a soft ding as it comes to a stop. You reach down to grab your bags as the door opens. 

“Can I help you with that?” 

“Oh, uh… sure.”

He picks up the heavy bags with ease. You could tell that he’s a muscular guy, but up close he looks straight up beefy. It doesn't help that the tight shirt he's wearing hugs all his muscles perfectly, his biceps nearly bursting out of his sleeves. You force yourself to look away before you start fucking drooling. 

He delivers the bags to your front door. He returns them to you with care, making sure you have a firm grip on the handles before letting go. His hand lingers upon yours momentarily - the lightest brush of his fingertips against yours enough for your insides to do a somersault. 

“Thanks again,” you tell him, making the mistake of direct eye contact again. 

“Of course,” Jihoon replies warmly. “See you around.”

You flash him a smile, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. “Bye!!” you blurt abruptly as you unlock your front door, hurrying inside. You want to turn around, get one more good look at him - but you shut the door behind you. 

Your head spins as you put your groceries away. You're so wrapped up in your imagination that you nearly put the milk in the cabinet. But you can't stop daydreaming about what those muscles look like underneath his shirt. 

You finish up and head into your bedroom. A nice hot shower should clear your mind. Not two seconds after taking off your shirt, you freeze. The familiar sounds from next door have begun yet again. 

You stand there, half horrified, half horny. Surely it's nothing more than coincidence that your neighbor got home and started jacking off minutes after having a conversation with you. He was probably gonna do that anyway, you try to convince yourself. You're just having main character syndrome right now, this has nothing to do with you. 

But your gut is telling you otherwise. 

Mindlessly your fingers drift to your bra clasp, removing the garment. Taking your breast in one hand you stroke your thumb over your nipple, already hard from sudden exposure to the cool air of your room. You let yourself stand there for a minute, listening to Jihoon’s soft moans, imagining you could see him through the wall, slowly stroking his cock in his hands. 

You feel guilty, ashamed, but the aching in your cunt overpowers any sense of remorse. Your hand makes its way into your pants, your fingers gliding through your folds, slipping easily into your soaked pussy. You wince silently, stifling the moans desperately trying to escape you. Slowly, you begin to fuck yourself. You can't help but think about how it would feel if it were Jihoon’s fingers inside you instead. 

You stand there for a couple minutes, your clit throbbing against the motion of your palm - threatening to make you scream and cum. 

You can't let him hear you, you keep telling yourself. But part of you almost wants him to hear you. You picture him getting so turned on hearing your cries of pleasure that he cums instantly, all over himself, making a huge mess that you would love nothing more than to help clean up. 

You feel your climax rapidly approaching. You cease moving your fingers, but let them remain resting inside you. You try to calm yourself down, taking deep breaths to slow your pounding heart, but just as your head starts to clear you hear a sudden swell of orgasmic sounds from through the wall. As if by reflex your hand moves again. Your body tremors at the pressure against your overstimulated clit - you cum in silence, forcing your cries back inside you as . You ride out your high, and so does Jihoon, his moans slowly softening as he comes back down. 

Heart pounding, you slowly remove your fingers from your cunt. Your hand is soaked; you find yourself wishing it was Jihoon's face instead, glistening with your juices after eating you out, making you cum an unreasonable amount of times. 

You sigh. You know this should all feel wrong. But why does it feel so good then?

A strange combination of feelings overtake your body: tingling bliss from your orgasm, guilt from the reason for your orgasm, an overpowering yearning for the touch of essentially an entire stranger. 

You strip the remainder of your clothes off and proceed to take a very long, very hot shower. 

You wake up the next morning stupidly horny.

It didn’t help that you had a dream about Jihoon. In it, you were standing in his bedroom, watching him masturbate to the sight of you. His cries echoing through your subconscious, the pathetic look on this face as he came all over himself - it’s not surprising you woke up to a puddle between your legs.

You pause, listening to see if you can hear your neighbor next door, but you hear nothing. You reach into your nightstand, pulling out your favorite vibrator. The purple device rumbles in your hand as you turn it on. For a vibrator, it’s pretty quiet, but with your stupid thin walls you know it would be perfectly audible from the other side. You think Jihoon isn’t around - surely you would hear him if he were - but even if he is, you truly don’t even care anymore. You position the toy lightly upon your clit - even through the fabric of your underwear, its powerful vibrations instantly feel amazing. A soft groan escapes your lips before you can stop it. Your hips begin to move lightly at the stimulation - the pressure of the vibrator’s end causing your wetness to stick to your panties. You attempt to restrain your moaning, but before long you cease resisting. It feels too good. Your orgasm quickly builds in your gut, making you whimper as you squirm against your pillow, its intensity growing and growing until - you cum. The fire of your release burns through your body, your cries filling the air without abandon. Deep breaths fill your lungs as you come down, soft gasps emanating from your lips as you turn the toy off and toss it aside. 

A series of thunks echo from through the wall, followed by a hushed “shit”.

It sounds like somebody dropping a phone or something, but whatever it is - turns out your neighbor was home after all. Whoops.

In your post-orgasm bliss you begin to drift back to sleep. You don’t know what you’re going to do now next time you run into Jihoon, but that’s a problem for later.

You end up sleeping in far too late. By the time you wake up, you feel groggy and sluggish, so you figure going to the gym will help you feel a little better. You don a soft pink pair of leggings and a light gray sports bra, filling your water bottle and grabbing your airpods on your way out the door. You wait in the hallway for the elevator. It reaches your floor with a ding, its doors sliding open to reveal who other than your next door neighbor. 

Of fucking course.

He appears to be returning from the gym, his tight white t-shirt clinging to his body in a way that practically puts all his muscles on display. His dark hair is damp and sweaty, messy, stray strands of it sticking to his forehead. He looks up to see you standing there, a panicked look instantly filling his eyes. His skin is already flush from exercising, but his ears turn practically crimson at the sight of you. 

“Hi,” you say with a friendly smile.

He freezes, staring at you like a deer caught in the headlights. He quickly tries to shake it off.

“Oh, uh, hey,” he mumbles in an attempted nonchalant tone, but already his cheeks are becoming more flustered. You see his eyes flicker up and down your body - your outfit isn’t terribly revealing, but it’s certainly on the sexier side of athleticwear. He stands there, awkwardly frozen - so long that the elevator door begins to shut again. He grabs hold of it, triggering the motion sensor so it reopens. He starts to shuffle past you, but you decide you’re feeling bold enough to try and engage him in a conversation.

“Just coming back from the gym?” you ask casually.

He stops in the hallway, standing right before you.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Do you also go to the one over on Clark Street?” you question. You won’t hold him up too long - he looks like he wants to perish - but you figure you’ll torment him for another minute or so.  “That’s where I’m headed now.”

“Yeah, I do,” he answers, subtly shifting his gym bag in front of his body. 

“Cool! Maybe we’ll see each other there sometime,” you tell him in a chipper tone. 

“Maybe, yeah. That’d be cool,” he replies, smiling nervously.

You enter the elevator and press the ground floor button.

“Well, see ya around!” you tell him with a wave.

“You too,” he responds, not taking his eyes off you until the elevator door shuts closed.

Three days pass - three days of pure silence from the other side of the wall. 

Now that Jihoon has discovered the truth, he's clearly mortified. You catch a few glimpses of him around the building, but the man practically vanishes at the sight of you. You feel a little bit bad, but you know the ruse could not have lasted forever anyway. 

Unless he somehow knows exactly when you're not home and has been jacking off exclusively then, you haven't heard him pull his dick out at all. And judging by the couple times you've seen him, the man has been incredibly on edge. 

You return home a bit late in the evening after hanging out with some friends. You’ve had a fair bit of wine, so you're feeling a little tipsy, but you're in a pleasantly good mood. You're also decently horny; your mind drifts to your neighbor, conjuring up the image of him returning from the gym, sweaty, muscular, his t-shirt damp and tightly fitted against his sculpted body. 

Not two minutes pass after you step inside before you hear the SLAM of a door from the hallway. Footsteps approach your unit, followed by frantic knocking on your front door. 

You scurry over to the entrance, reaching out to unlock the door, but the pit in your stomach makes you pause. What if he’s mad at you? you start to worry. 

Well, only one way to find out. 

With the click the deadbolt turns. You swing the door open to reveal Jihoon, in a plain white t-shirt and grey fucking sweatpants. 

He stares at you, standing frozen in your doorway. You can see the gears turning in his head, trying to calculate if this is all a mistake. 

After just enough moments of silence for it to be awkward, he clears his throat. 

“Hi, um… May I come in?”

He looks incredibly tense, but the way he's staring at you with such intensity makes your pussy ache. 

“Sure.”

You step aside, gesturing for him to come in. 

He enters. He takes a look around as you shut the door behind him. 

“It's really nice in here,” he comments, attempting to make small talk. 

“Oh, thank you,” you say with a friendly smile. He looks even more nervous now that he's in your apartment. He pauses, nonchalantly observing some of the artwork on your wall, seemingly trying (and failing) to come up with a good segue into whatever he came over here to say. 

“So, um…” he starts, rubbing his hands together anxiously. 

“I just wanted to… uh… well, I figured I should probably let you know…” 

You inch even closer to him as he stumbles over his words; his shoulders tense slightly. He runs one hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze. 

“I guess I just wanted to apologize,” he finally is able to articulate. “I just recently realized that the walls in this building are pretty thin and uh… well I guess I don’t know if I've been loud at all…” 

Blushed redness creeps up his neck as his terrible lying resonates through the room. 

Maybe it's the way he's standing there, doing nothing but stumbling over his words yet looking incredibly sexy, or maybe it's the wine - but you're feeling bold today. 

“Yeah, you have been.”

The pale color of his cheeks suddenly goes even paler, turning his entire face sheet-white as he stands there, horrified. Then, the redness returns with a vengeance. He looks like a very hot, very nervous tomato. 

“I’m so sorry,” he stammers, “I really had no idea-”

“Why are you apologizing?”

He stares at you, confused. 

“Um…”

He waits for you to clarify, but you don't. Seeing him this flustered up close and personal has your panties soaked already, and you want to revel in it. 

He lets out a deep sigh. 

“I just… I know I can be loud sometimes, but from now on I’ll be more conscientious of my… volume. And I just don't want you to think I’m perverted or anything…”

He shakes his head, realizing he's just digging himself a deeper hole at this point. 

“Anyway, I’m really sorry to bother you, I should get going-”

He tries to slip past you, but you throw your arm out in front of him, slamming your palm into the wall of the narrow hallway as you block him from exiting. He freezes, involuntarily holding his breath as panic spreads across his face. 

“What if I like it?”

Your arm brushes against his torso, his chest heaving into you with his quickening breaths. 

“What?” he asks, barely more than a whisper, clearly taken aback by your question. 

“What if I like hearing you?”

His eyes widen. You step even closer into his personal space, your face now mere inches from his. 

“What if I want to hear you making those noises on this side of the wall, in my bed?”

You grasp onto his t-shirt, yanking his body into yours. He lets out a gasp as your tits press into his chest - his mouth is now so close to yours that you feel the exhale against your lips. 

“Would you like that?”

He gazes at you, his eyes darkening with desire. Then - he kisses you. 

It's not a delicate kiss, nor is it sweet. He kisses you as if he intends to devour you, hungrily tugging at your lips as he grasps at your waist fervorously, aching to touch every inch of you. 

His large hands slip underneath your shirt, gripping your sides tight as he caresses your warm skin. Your heart races in your chest, the sounds of rushing blood flooding your ears as you kiss Jihoon, savoring the sweet taste of his lips, basking in the radiant heat of his body against yours. 

“Oh wow,” he mutters into your mouth as his lips depart yours briefly. 

You grasp onto his tshirt, balling the fabric in your fists, pulling him with you as you stumble toward your bedroom together, still kissing him. 

As you step through the doorway, you tug on his shirt, prompting him to remove it. He pauses, contemplating the taste of wine lingering on your lips.

“Are you… drunk?” he asks delicately. “I just want to make sure…”

“A little,” you reply, leaning into him, so close that the vibrations of your soft-spoken words resonate against his lips.

“But I know what I want.”

Jihoon squeezes the flesh of your hips, his grip unrelentless, as if someone was going to take you away from him. A thick bulge beneath his sweatpants presses against you as he holds you tightly against him.

“And what do you want?” he asks in a low voice, staring at you hungrily. “Tell me.”

“First,” you start, pulling at his shirt again. “Get rid of this.”

He yanks his tshirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Standing before you now, shirtless, you get a true look at his brawny figure: huge biceps framing his body, thick pectorals protruding from his chest, chiseled abs sculpting his stomach. The man has muscles you didn’t even know existed. You delicately drag your fingertips up and down his torso, admiring him; his cock twitches against you at your touch.

“God you’re so fucking hot,” you mumble as you gaze into his eyes - giving him the most pathetic, needy, seductive look you can muster. 

Redness spreads across his neck and chest. He’s clearly easily flustered (at least, for you), and you plan to take full advantage of this. 

You slip one finger beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging lightly. 

“Now, get rid of these.”

Obediently, he slides his pants down, having to stretch the elastic further to get it over his bulge. Kicking the sweats off, you get a clearer look at what he’s packing. Even through the dark fabric of his underwear, the outline of his hard cock is undeniable - not only long, but thick. Your pussy clenches at the mere sight of his size. 

You can't wait any longer. You run your hand over his clothed cock, feeling its weight in your palm. Jihoon groans, letting out the sweet sound you've until now only heard muffled through the wall. Hearing him now, here, in your bedroom - it's music to your ears. 

Reaching into his underwear, you grip your hand around his girth - he nearly whimpers at the sensation. You give him a few strokes before pulling his cock fully out, causing you to let out an audible gasp. 

Fucking shit.

Jihoon gives you an embarrassed smile, making you realize you said that out loud and not just in your head. But if anything your reaction wasn't even dramatic enough, because his cock is fucking huge. You take him in your fist, slowly pumping up and down; his eyes roll back into his head, letting out a deep sigh as you stroke him. You press your lips into his neck, planting delicate kisses into the soft skin.

“Oh god,” he groans under his breath. 

With his dick twitching in your hand, growing stiff and somehow even longer, you drop to your knees, positioning your face directly beneath the behemoth of a cock. You gaze up at him as you drag your tongue from his base to his tip; he strokes your cheek lightly with the back of his fingers, gazing down at you with a look of equal parts admiration and lust. You swirl your tongue around the head, tasting the precum that has dribbled out. Taking just a tiny bit of his tip between puckered lips, you begin suckling on it, lapping up his juices and teasing him with the bare-minimum stimulation. His low hum swells into a moan as you slowly slide his cock into your mouth, taking as much of his length as possible before you start to choke (Not yet, you think to yourself. Save that for later.)

“Fuck, you look so good right now,” he groans, cupping your cheek in his large hand as you stare up at him with big doe eyes. “So beautiful with my cock in that pretty little mouth of yours.” 

Sharp throbbing pulses between your legs at the slightest of praise. You slide your mouth up and down his length, gradually increasing your pace. His tip hitting the back of your mouth only makes you want more, makes you want to swallow him whole, gag on the entire shaft as his massive size fills your throat. Finally, you can resist no longer - you swallow the rest of him, your lips greeting his base as his full length slides down your throat. Tears instantly begin welling in your eyes, streaming down your cheeks as you bob your head up and down, choking on Jihoon’s cock.

He places one hand upon your hair, grasping it in his fist as you give him the absolute sloppiest head he’s ever received. Grotesque gagging sounds emanate from your throat, but are nearly drowned out by the lewd string of moans coming from Jihoon. He wants nothing more than to watch you choke on his cock, see your tears flowing freely as you stare up at him, eyes longingly transfixed upon each other - but he can’t help but shut his eyes, head falling back at the overwhelming pleasure you’re making him feel. It starts to take over his whole body - his hips reflexively begin thrusting, sinking his length deep into your throat. Before long he pulls you by the hair, wresting you off of him; strings of saliva stretch from his drenched cock to your coated lips, bubbles of spit running down your chin. 

“Sorry, that was going to make me cum way too fast,” he tells you with a sheepish smile. “You’re just so- ohhh…” His sentence is cut off by you placing one of his balls in your mouth, lightly sucking on it before taking the other as well. 

“Fuck that’s hot,” he grumbles, stroking your hair gently. You shift on your knees, trying to sit more comfortably upon the floor; Jihoon notices.

“Come here,” he instructs as he pulls you up off the floor. “I want you to be comfortable.” 

He brings you over to the bed, laying down atop it. You go to resume your place between his legs, but he grabs your arms to stop you.

“You should take these off,” he insists, tugging at your clothes with desperation in his eyes. “Please. I wanna see you.”

You pull your shirt over your head, discarding it to the floor. Slowly you unfasten your pants, sliding them down your hips - a bit timidly, for as horny as you are right now you’re suddenly afflicted with a wave of shyness. But the way Jihoon is looking at you - eyes glazed over with pure lust, licking his lips like he wants to devour you - is driving you utterly crazy. You swiftly remove your bra and panties, standing nude before him as he marvels at the sight of you.

“You’re perfect,” he says, his voice deep and gravelly. Your pussy clenches, attempting to alleviate the powerful aching in your core. Jihoon takes your hand, drawing you into the side of the bed.

“Sit on my face. Please.”

It’s not an order; the way he is looking up at you, squeezing your hand - he’s begging.

“Only if I can suck your cock at the same time,” you say with a cheeky grin. His eyes widen. 

“Would you like that?” you ask coyly, batting your eyelashes at him as you trace circles on his stomach with one fingernail. 

“Y-yeah,” he whimpers, his voice cracking slightly.  

“Good.”

You crawl onto the bed, swinging your legs over Jihoon’s head as you face his painfully erect cock. You situate yourself steadily, lowering your pussy toward his face, until you feel his soft, plush lips against you. Instantly he lets out a loud moan, the vibrations against your soaked core triggering a sharp jolt in your stomach. He wraps his arms around your inner thighs, holding you tight against him, his moans still resonating through the room even with his face buried in your cunt. 

He begins to work his tongue deep into your folds, licking every last bit, lapping up as much of your juices as he possibly can - the rest certainly dripping down his chin. You lean over, reaching for his thick cock one more; you grip the base tight in your fist, stroking the hilt while taking the rest in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down his length. The pathetic noises coming from under your cunt grow even louder - Jihoon begins to squirm underneath you, bucking his hips as he continues eating you out as if the world were ending tomorrow. He latches onto your clit, suckling on the stimulated bud; you cry out, but the sound is garbled amidst your cacophony of unbridled gagging noises. Your eyes flood with tears as your orgasm rapidly approaches - you grind your hips on his face, stimulating your pussy further and further, the burning in your gut swelling and swelling, your legs trembling even in Jihoon’s tight embrace. Your whole body convulses atop of his as you reach your climax. Desperate for air, you pull your head up, your mouth now empty but quickly refilled with cries of pleasure as you cum all over Jihoon’s face. 

“Oh my godddd,” you wail, your mind going blank as every nerve in your body lights up like fireworks. 

“Oh my god, oh fuckkkk, Jihoon…”

The rumbling vibrations of his groaning carry you through an overpowering orgasm; you ride out your high as he sucks on your clit mercilessly while his nose presses into your cunt. You’re seeing stars as you begin to come down, unable to think any coherent thoughts - instead basking in how fucking incredible Jihoon just made you feel. 

You lift your throbbing pussy off his face, giving your poor overstimulated clit a moment to recover. 

“Gonna cum, ‘m so close,” Jihoon moans. You quickly pop his dick back into your mouth, sliding his length in and out, hollowing your cheeks as you suck his cock like your life depends on it. 

“Ahh, ahhhhh, ah fuck-” 

Hot white ropes shoot deep into your throat as he releases. His melodic moans and whining cries form a grand symphony that fills your bedroom - in this moment, you are absolutely certain that you've never heard a more beautiful sound. 

His cock pulsates in your mouth, letting out every last spurt of cum for you to eagerly swallow. As he finishes, you slowly slide his cock out of your mouth - still marveling at the sheer size of it. 

“Oh my god,” he groans softly. You swing your leg over his head, turning yourself around to lay beside him. You wrap your arms around his torso, becoming the big spoon as you nuzzle your face into his neck. 

“Wow,” he proclaims with a deep, satisfied exhale. He lays silently as he recovers, catching his breath and coming back down to earth. Finally, with a sigh, he turns to face you. You raise your head up enough for your noses to meet. 

Jihoon gazes into your eyes, eyelids heavy in his post-orgasmic bliss. He hesitates, bringing his hand up to your cheek and cradling it gently. 

“Can I kiss you?” he finally asks, his voice no more than a soft whisper. 

You nod. He kisses you - this time not hungry and desperate, but slow and saccharine. Your lips lock, laying there entangled in each other’s embrace - his muscular arms hold you tight, enveloping you in the warmth radiating from both of your sweat-covered bodies. As your lips eventually part, you remain snuggled by his side - him playing with your hair while you trace your fingertips over his toned body. Eventually, he takes your chin delicately in his hand, tilting your face up to look at him. 

“I don’t know if fucking your next door neighbor is necessarily a wise thing to do,” he starts. “But that was incredible. You’re incredible.”

You smile. 

“I don't know either,” you chuckle. “But the way you basically broke down my door to come fuck me was really hot.”

Jihoon laughs, his face lighting up with a beaming smile. 

“Yeah, um. I'm not entirely sure what compelled me to do that.”

“I do,” you inform him. “You were thinking with your dick.”

“Okay yeah, you're right,” he admits with a grin. 

He reaches for your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, squeezing your palm. 

“Would you want to do this again?” 

“Like, right now?” you reply. 

“No I mean like- … well, yes actually,” he answers, his face lighting up with excitement. “But I meant like, in the future.”

You nod, a wide grin spreading across your face. 

“I’d like that.”

“Good,” he smiles. “Me too.”

“But also…”

Your arms grab hold of him, rolling him over on top of you. He tries to shift, to not be placing his whole weight upon you, but you cling to him tightly, holding him in place. You roll your hips, stroking his still half-erect cock with your soaked cunt; you feel it pulse in response, already beginning to harden again. 

“I want you to fuck me,” you speak softly into his ear, continuing to grind your pussy on his cock. His eyes roll back in his head once more. 

“God you're so fucking hot,” he mumbles through gritted teeth. His eyelashes flutter as his eyes open again, peering down at you amorously. 

“Give me just a minute, baby,” he says as he shifts downward, positioning himself directly in front of your boobs. He grabs one with each hand, kneading the soft flesh in his grasp. He licks your nipple, swirling his tongue around the protruding bud, wetting it with his warm mouth before switching to your other breast. He gives them equal attention, licking and sucking on them, back and forth - whichever boob isn't in his mouth, he pinches your hard nipple, squeezing and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. You press your hips up into his stomach, seeking any relief for your aching clit, but it's not enough. You whimper as he latches on to your left nipple, suckling on it so long you think you might cum again just from this. You feel the bed move beneath you as he grinds his cock against the sheets, thrusting into the mattress, seeking relief for his returned erection. 

He lifts his head up, releasing his latch on your breast with a wet-sounding pop. His eyes stay fixed on you as he shifts further down the bed, resting comfortably between your legs as his lips hover above your cunt. 

“Is this okay?” he checks before placing his mouth on you. You nod earnestly, brushing your fingers through his damp, messy hair. His tongue locates your entrance, slipping into your pussy, his nose brushing up against your clit, still highly sensitive from your first orgasm. You moan as his tongue glides through your folds, his face becoming soaked once again in your juices. He flickers over your clit, the warmth and wetness of his tongue quickly sending you over the edge. Your body writhes beneath him as you cum a second time, crying out with even greater pleasure than the first. It's almost overbearing, but you relish in it, delicious waves of bliss pulsating throughout your whole being. His tongue slows, licking you softly as you lay there, unable to move for a few good minutes, basking in the aftermath of your orgasm. Your fist slowly unclenches, releasing the grip you didn't realize you had on his tousled locks. 

“Damn,” you mumble, a big goofy grin spreading across your face. Jihoon crawls back up toward you, kissing you with lips drenched in your own cum. His cock, fully hard once more, brushes against your cunt. Although you're still trying to catch your breath, you place your entrance against his tip to taunt him. 

“Please fuck me,” you beg, desperate to feel him inside you. 

He pushes his cockhead into your pussy, letting out a moan as he feels your warmth. Your walls tighten as he slides the rest of his length in, fully enveloping his cock - he whines, loudly, letting the delicious sensation overtake him. He rests for a moment inside you, fearing to move as he feels the urge to cum already. But he’s too aroused to resist for much longer - slowly he begins to pump into you, deep thrusts stretching you out, filling you up like you've never felt before. He’s almost too big, but you love it. Tears well in your eyes again as he fucks you -  slow and tender at first, but gradually increasing his pace, soon pounding into you with powerful force. The stretch is overwhelming, but his long strokes and perfect tempo have you screaming his name, voluminous cries filling the air as he fucks you like you’ve never been fucked before. 

“You’re taking me so well baby,” he praises, his voice low and breathy. “So pretty…”

His voice trails off. High-pitched grunts and groans escape him as his body begins to stiffen, another climax rapidly on its way. He drives his cock into you, your perfect pussy squeezing him so tight that he can't think straight. 

“Y/n…” he cries. “Fuck, y/n I'm cumming…”

With several powerful thrusts he releases deep inside you, warm cum filling you up until you're completely full - so full that it begins to leak out of you, coating his cock and dripping all over the sheets. He finishes, laying frozen on top of you, heaving breaths echoing in your ear as he sinks his face into the crook of your neck. His cock rests inside you still, twitching occasionally against your walls. His breathing becomes so steady that you start to think he’s fallen asleep - but eventually he lifts his head, resting his temple on his fist as he takes in the sight of you, so pretty and fucked out beneath him. A lazy smile appears on his face as he stares at you, his pink cheeks glowing in his post-orgasm state. He looks so good that you involuntarily let out a little giggle. 

“What?” he asks, his grin growing wider. 

“You're just really hot, that's all.”

His face somehow turns even rosier. He lets out an embarrassed tsk as he tries to hide his face in his hands. 

“What? You are!!” you proclaim, pulling his hands away so you can see him again. 

“Sorry,” he replies timidly. “I’m not good with compliments.”

“You'll get used to it,” you say matter-of-factly. He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“You say that like this is going to be a regular thing now,” he retorts, trying to keep a straight face - but the corners of his mouth twitch upward, revealing the grin he's trying to hold back. 

“Do you want it to be?” you ask. 

Unable to hide his smile any longer, he nods. 

“I’d like that.”

Slowly, he pulls his spent cock out of you, making you whine at the empty sensation as even more of his cum spills out of you. 

“Wait here,” he says, giving you a soft kiss on your cheek as he rises from the bed. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

[muniimyg]

*ੈ εつ‧₊˚° ♡ ༘ ctrl+alt+delete // jjk ༘ ♡ °˚₊‧ εつ ੈ*

19 // next // series m.list

note: oh wHAT DO YOU KNOW ABT MEET CUTES??? huashjdkfasjf.... ignore my mistakes ,, i am sick ! goodnight pretty pussy kimi friends <3

//

friday night. 

jimin’s voice rings through the chaos of the small, but somehow always too crowded, apartment. it’s filled with people yet jimin’s squeaky yapping is the loudest thing in jungkook’s ear.

“stop freaking out!” jimin cries, dodging around taehyung, who’s already got a hand to his forehead like he’s holding back a migraine. “bro, you look fine.”

“but what if this is the wrong shirt?” jungkook whines, his brows knit together, tugging at the hem of the plain black tee he’s been second-guessing for the last hour and a half.

taehyung groans, dramatic as ever. “what if i hit you right now?”

“what if you go kill yourself—”

before jungkook can finish, the sound of liquid splashing against fabric cuts him off. the liquor spreads fast and drips down his shirt.

jungkook takes a deep breath in.

“oops,” jimin says, not even trying to hide the grin as his tequila splatters all over jungkook’s chest. “now you have to change. you’re welcome.”

“you—!” jungkook starts, eyes narrowing like he’s about to lunge.

“do it,” taehyung interrupts, his grin lazy, sharp, and mean in a way that only jungkook’s closest friends can manage. “before ___ walks in and sees you covered in alcohol. how’s that for a first impression, mr. perfect?”

jungkook shoots both of them a glare, muttering curses under his breath as he storms off toward his room, the familiar bubble of frustration fizzing in his chest.

god. 

tonight, out of all nights; he’s spiraling. really—because how could they not see how serious this all is? 

you’re coming over. 

you. 

st4rg1rlyni3. 

… and since this is your first time meeting… he has to get it right. he has to at least look good. presentable. maybe even… handsome.

once jungkook reaches his room, he pulls open his closet door with more force than necessary. the shirts hang neatly—too neatly—because he reorganized them this morning, just in case you’d... what? wander in here and look inside his closet?

he groans at himself, grabbing the first thing that doesn’t make him want to scream, a striped blue button-up he swore he wouldn’t wear tonight.

as he shrugs the shirt over his shoulders, he’s halfway through tugging it down—arms trapped in the fabric, mid-struggle—when his door creaks open.

his heart stalls. freezes, really, like his whole body is buffering.

because it’s you.

you’re standing there, hand still on the doorknob, looking as though you hadn’t expected to walk in on this exact moment—but you’re also clearly trying to hold back a laugh.

“oh.” your voice comes out light, amused. you glance down at your phone for a second before back up at him, a brow raising. “taehyung said the bathroom was—hmmm. okay. i get it.”

jungkook is acutely aware of every awkward detail: his hair sticking up from all his stressed-out fidgeting, the half-buttoned shirt that’s probably wrinkled by now, the way his mouth is hanging slightly open because he still hasn’t figured out what to say.

“um...” it’s the best he can manage, voice a little cracked.

your smile grows, softening the edges of the moment. 

“nice shirt.”

he stares at you, feels his cheeks flush a little hotter. because of course you’d show up looking this good, all easy confidence and effortless charm, while he’s here feeling like a walking disaster. your hair is curled in such an effortless way that truly scratches his brain. you’re wearing a baby pink dress that tugs your curves perfectly. 

truth be told, he was just talking shit about the colour pink. 

seeing it on you? 

yeah. it’s his favourite colour now too—

that’s when jungkook realizes he’s been silent for a minute too long. you’re looking at him like you’re waiting for a response.

“thanks,” he finally blurts, so fast it sounds like one word. then he clears his throat, scrambling to add, “just—uh, just picked it.”

your gaze lingers on him, a smile tipping into something dangerously close to teasing. 

“what’s… with the awkwardness? am i prettier than you expected?”

his breath hitches, and you swear you catch the faintest blush coloring his cheeks. but jungkook recovers quickly, his lips curling into a crooked grin.

“the issue was never if you were pretty. you are pretty. there’s no denying that,” he admits, his voice steady yet soft. “it’s your attitude.”

your brow arches, feigning offense. 

“what attitude? i just got here.”

“that one,” he says, gesturing vaguely as if you radiate something he can’t quite put into words.

you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “oh, so we’re acting like we didn’t just celebrate seven days of talking with cake? like you aren’t completely obsessed with me—”

“okay, miss disliker.”

“mr. vlog dedicator.”

“weren’t you mad at me a few days ago for muting when i peed?”

“yeah. i can admit to that. if i made peeing videos, you’d watch them, right? can you admit to that?”

jungkook bites down on his bottom lip, a nervous habit you’ve started to notice, and inhales sharply through his nose. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and for a moment, his gaze drops to the floor like he’s trying to gather himself.

the air stills.

“sorry,” he finally breathes, his voice low and almost unsure. “seeing you in person… god, i don’t know how to act right now. i’m sorry, baby.”

his words settle over you, warm and sweet, sinking into the spaces you didn’t know were waiting to be filled. your stomach tightens, flipping over itself, and you’re suddenly too aware of the way his voice dips when he calls you baby.

jungkook finishes buttoning up his shirt, his fingers fumbling slightly on the last button, and then he extends his hand toward you. 

“nice to meet you—”

but before he can finish, you reach out, wrapping your arms around his neck instead.

his entire body tenses for a split second, caught off guard before he melts into the embrace. his arms come around you, pulling you close, holding you tight.

you rest your chin on his shoulder, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. his cologne—something woodsy with just a hint of spice—wraps around you, grounding you in the intimacy of the moment.

why does this feel so right?

your hands flex against his back, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath your fingertips. it’s overwhelming—how natural this feels, how easy it is to lean into him like this.

he exhales against your hair, his breath warm and steady now, and you can feel the tension draining from his body. you pull back slightly, your arms still looped around his neck, and meet his gaze. there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—uncertainty, maybe, or hesitation—but it’s quickly swallowed by a softness that tugs at your chest.

his hands slide down to rest on your waist, grounding you in place. “hi.”

you blink, your stomach flipping again as his words settle in. he’s staring at you like you’re the only person in the room, and it’s almost too much to bear.

“hi.”

“i’m really nervous, to be honest. jimin and tae have been eating up my anxiety and i’m… i’ve embrassed myself in front of you already so what the hell?” he says, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly. “you’ve been in my head. and now… now you’re here, and i don’t know what to do with myself.”

you smile softly, trying to keep things light despite the way your heart is racing. 

“excited much?”

he laughs, the sound warm and a little breathless. “only a little.”

you don’t know who moves first, but somehow, you find yourself leaning in, his forehead pressing gently against yours. his eyes flutter shut, and for a moment, the world outside fades into nothingness.

“you smell nice,” he murmurs, his lips so close to yours that you can feel the ghost of his breath.

“so do you.”

he chuckles, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “this feels too perfect,” he whispers, almost like he’s afraid saying it out loud will break the spell.

your stomach flips again, and you’re suddenly so aware of everything—his hands on your waist, the warmth radiating off his body, the way his lips hover just a breath away from yours.

“then don’t ruin it,” you tease, your smile growing.

he grins, leaning back just enough to meet your eyes, and for a moment, you’re both caught in the weight of everything unsaid.

“not a chance,” he says, his voice steady now. 

you believe him.

the night feels like a dream. 

not the kind you forget the second you wake up, but the kind you spend the rest of the day reliving, hoping to hold onto every detail.

jungkook’s mind is filled with you.

every time he looks at you, touches you, or hears you—he can’t help but feel like his heart is beating outside of his chest. it’s so strange and love has never felt this way—so intense and real… so fast. 

you’re witty in a way that makes his chest ache, sharp without being mean, playful but never overbearing. he can’t remember the last time someone teased him, really teased him, without making him feel small. you make it fun—safe, even.

and god, you’re beautiful. 

not in the way he thought before, through screens and pictures, but in a way that’s... more. the kind of beauty that makes him feel like he should thank someone—maybe you, maybe the universe—for the chance to be here, breathing the same air as you.

he notices the way hobi smirks when he catches jungkook staring at you too long. the way taehyung elbows him whenever you laugh at one of his dumb jokes. the way jimin whispers “she likes you, idiot” every time you brush past him, your shoulder grazing his.

it’s obvious. 

to everyone. 

and apparently, to you too, because you’ve joined in. 

you’re teasing him just as much as his friends, your words sharp and deliberate in a way that keeps him on his toes. it’s almost unbearable, the way you make him feel like a little kid with a crush, heart pounding and cheeks burning every time you look his way.

and then, in the middle of it all, he snaps. 

not in a bad way, but in the way you’d snap a rubber band to bring yourself back to reality. he steps closer, his hand finding your waist, his fingers curling just slightly.

“can i show you something?”

your brows lift, curiosity flickering across your face. you nod. 

“sure.”

jungkook leads you to his room, the chaos of the party fading behind you. his fingers brush yours as he walks ahead, close enough to touch but not quite. it’s deliberate, like he’s trying to keep his cool but failing miserably.

once you're in his room, he gestures towards his balcony.

you two step out and it's this set up of a cozy and quiet escape. there are string lights wrapped around the railing, a single blanket draped over the chair, and the view—god, the view is stunning.

the city stretches out like it’s alive, blinking lights and faint noises making it feel infinite.

“i fought for this room,” jungkook brags, leaning against the doorframe. “tae wanted it, but i beat him in an arm wrestling match.”

you laugh softly, stepping out onto the balcony.

“it’s worth the fight.”

“it is.”

he doesn’t mean the room, though.

you settle into the blanket he hands you, the conversation flowing into something softer, deeper.

“it's been a few hours already but... it’s still so weird seeing you in person,” he admits, his voice quieter now, like he’s letting himself be vulnerable. “i feel like... i’ve known you my entire life. it feels...”

“different?” you offer, your gaze steady on him.

he nods, his lips curving into a small smile. “in a good way."

“in a good way." you echo.

with that, you two settle in to each others presence. looking out at the view and laughing at each others lame jokes. for two sociable people, you two sure love your space from everyone... perhaps, it's because you're with the one.

as the conversation drifts, eventually, jungkook asks, “so... the anon thing. have you figured out who it is yet?”

you shrug, pulling the blanket tighter around you.

“no, not really. hobi told me to take it slow. to focus on myself for now.”

“what does that mean for... you know.” his voice drops, suddenly shy. “your content.”

another shrug.

“i’m not sure. i don’t know if i want to keep going, but... i don’t think i have any other options.”

he frowns, leaning forward. “what do you mean by that?”

you hesitate, your fingers tracing the edge of the blanket. “i don’t really know what i am these days, to be honest with you.”

that's the plain truth.

you haven't really admitted it to anyone... honestly? hardly to yourself... but for some reason, it just came out. for a moment you think; maybe this is dangerous. trusting someone so fast and feeling how natural it is to say the hard things...

then, there’s a beat of silence before he speaks.

“that’s okay.” jungkook voice is steady, sure. “not knowing is okay. being you is enough.”

you blink, startled by the simplicity of his words.

they hit harder than you expected, settling somewhere deep. it’s strange, feeling so understood by someone you’ve only just met.

the moment is broken by the buzz of jungkook’s phone. he checks it, lips quirking into a smile.

“jimin says everyone went to the pool.”

he stands, holding out a hand. “come on.”

jungkook leads you to the rooftop pool. 

the rooftop is alive with soft laughter and the sound of water splashing, but all of it fades when you step out hand-in-hand with jungkook.

every set of eyes shifts to where your fingers are intertwined, lingering just a second too long before darting to his face, then back to yours. you feel your cheeks heat up, suddenly shy… but you two don’t let go. instead, you hold his hand even tighter. 

instinctively, you move slightly behind him, but jungkook isn’t having it.

he pulls you forward gently, his hand sliding to your waist, keeping you anchored there. 

for fucks sake… the prettiest girl at the party is with him. why would he hide this? why wouldn’t he boast?

“do you guys swim often?” you ask, trying to deflect from the weight of their teasing stares.

jungkook shrugs, playing it cool. “only when i wanna vlog and get your attention.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “right… because you just hate it when people only like you for your body?”

he nods, lips twitching into a grin. “exactly. oh, you so get me—”

“hate to break it to you,” taehyung interrupts, draping an arm around jungkook’s neck, “but posting thirst traps isn’t exactly original content.”

“what does that make me?” you quip, arching a brow.

taehyung shrugs, also playing it cool. “jungkook said he’d beat me up if I ever click your links.”

you snort, covering your mouth to hide your laugh.

“oh, come on,” taehyung continues, pulling at the hem of jungkook’s shirt, threatening to lift it. “jungkooookieee… go for a swim and do the whole romantic wet hair look. she’ll love it.”

“shut up—”

“no, seriously! right, ___?” taehyung calls over his shoulder, his grin mischievous. “you’ll love it, right?”

before you can answer, jimin comes barreling in, teaming up with taehyung to ambush jungkook. they shove him into the pool, their laughter echoing as jungkook resurfaces, glaring at them.

you step to the edge, watching as the three of them wrestle and splash around in the water. hobi appears beside you, crossing his arms with a knowing smile.

“this is gonna get worse before it gets better,” he teases, nudging you lightly.

you kneel by the pool, your gaze following jungkook as he swims to where you’re crouched. his wet hair clings to his forehead, and there’s a boyish charm in the way he grins up at you.

he’s breathtaking like this. 

wet hair curling just enough to look messy, droplets sliding down the sharp line of his jaw, catching faint glimmers of the rooftop lights. his shirt clings to him, fabric plastered to every dip and ridge of his body, leaving nothing to the imagination—not that it matters. you’ve spent enough time watching him online to know every detail by heart, but this is different. 

you swallow hard, a little lightheaded. 

“help me up,” he says, holding his hand out.

“no.”

his grin falters. “what? why not—”

“you’re gonna pull me in.”

“no, i won’t.”

“yes, you are.”

“how do you know?”

“i know you.”

jungkook tilts his head, his grin returning as he leans his arms on the pool edge. “oh? you think you’ve got me figured out, huh?”

you smirk. “don’t i?”

“you don’t,” he challenges, wiggling his fingers. “come on. trust me.”

against your better judgment, you give him your hand. the second his fingers close around yours, you know you’ve made a mistake.

“jungkook, don’t—”

but it’s too late. 

he tugs you in, and the cold water shocks you, stealing the air from your lungs. you bob to the surface, pushing your hair out of your face, only to see him laughing like a kid who just got away with a prank.

you splash him. “you’re the worst!”

“am i?” he teases, swimming closer.

you’re still laughing when he scoops you up under the water, holding you bridal style. he hums, grinning down at you. “saved you.”

“you pulled me in.”

“okay, fine. i pulled you in.”

“you give in easily.” you tease, splashing water to his face. jungkook squints, taking the splash. before you can say anything else, he defends himself with a few words that make your stomach turn again. 

“how am i supposed to argue with a pretty girl like you?”

back in his room, jungkook has a hoodie and a pair of sweats laid out for you. he’s drying off with a towel when you step out of his bathroom, his clothes hanging loose on you.

he pauses mid-motion, the towel draped over his shoulder as his eyes take you in. “you look better in my clothes than i do,” he teases, his voice dipping just slightly.

“gross.”

he grins, leaning against the dresser. “i’m serious. i might have to start hiding my hoodies.”

“please. you’d hand them over without a fight.”

“not true.”

you roll your eyes, stepping closer. without a word, you take the towel from his shoulder and start drying his hair. he freezes for a moment, caught off guard, before leaning into your touch.

your fingers work through his damp hair, your eyes inadvertently drifting to his lips. the air between you feels heavier now, thick with something unsaid. jungkook tilts his head slightly, his gaze dropping to your mouth before flicking back up to your eyes.

he leans in—so close, you can feel his breath on your skin—and then stops himself, pulling back just enough to create a sliver of space.

“i... i’m gonna wait,” he says, his voice low, almost a whisper.

“for?”

jungkook exhales, dragging a hand through his half-dry hair, the strands falling back into a soft, messy tangle that makes your stomach flip. the towel around his neck shifts as he fidgets with it, like it’s the only thing grounding him right now. 

“i don’t know,” he murmurs, voice quiet, like the words aren’t fully formed yet. “i want to show you i’m patient. i want to show you that i’m a good man. i am... so...” his eyes flicker to yours, holding your gaze for a beat too long, raw and unguarded. “let’s go? i’ll drive you home and hold your hand the entire way.”

you tilt your head, biting back a smile. 

“you’re really not going to kiss me right now?”

his lips twitch into a soft laugh, dimples pressing into his cheeks as his shoulders relax.

“i just want you to know that you’re perfect for me,” he says, his tone so sincere it makes your breath catch. “i want to be perfect for you... and it’s hard when i’m losing my patience. if i kiss you right now…” he hesitates, his voice dipping lower, “i won’t stop.”

you lean forward, close enough to catch the faintest scent of his cologne mingling with chlorine. 

“okay, i get it. you wanna be a good boy. fine by me…” you whisper, your lips brushing the air between you. “you’re right. maybe you shouldn’t kiss me tonight—as a matter of fact—don’t.”

his brows lift, the corner of his mouth curving into a grin that feels dangerously addictive. 

“really?”

“yeah.” your smile widens as you lean just a little closer, your nose nearly grazing his. “i like making people wait.”

his grin deepens, the heat in his gaze undeniable. 

“yeah?”

“yeah. i like it because it usually leads to begging.”

and then, before he can respond, you close the distance—not to his lips, but to his cheek, pressing the softest kiss there. when you pull back, jungkook's stunned expression is almost too satisfying. 

almost.

[supernovafics]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k words

summary: in which you and steve are not together, but sometimes— most of the time— you two find your way to each other. it all feels surprisingly okay until the guilt starts to sink in 

warnings: explicit language, cheating (both reader and steve are cheating on their partners), implied smut, a bit of drunk!steve, a lot of angst

author’s note: i love when i get an idea and it consumes my brain so much that i simply cannot do anything except write it lol enjoy this thing that may or may not eventually get a part two<3 idk<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You were starting to feel bad about it. Not bad enough to stop it, but bad nonetheless. 

In the end, when this inevitably blew up, a lot of people would be affected, but when you were alone with Steve you found it too hard to force yourself to care about all of that. When you two were alone in your car in the middle of the night or alone in his bedroom because his parents weren’t home, you never cared about just how terrible all of this was.  

That was why it wasn’t until you were walking down the hallway hand in hand with your boyfriend and you spotted Steve and Nancy lingering by what you could only assume was her locker and she was smiling so happily up at him, that you finally felt a little bad. 

You looked away quickly and pretended as if you hadn’t seen them in the first place; pushing his face and especially hers far out of your mind. Instead, you focused on Jamie and listened as he talked about a history test on Friday that he didn’t feel prepared for and how his parents would go ballistic if he didn’t pass. You promised to help him study later tonight— like you always did, from the moment you two met and became friends in seventh grade— and he smiled, leaning down to peck your lips as he called you the best. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You really didn’t like thinking about how everything started with Steve. In your head, you were okay with simplifying it to one day you weren’t cheating on your boyfriend with Steve Harrington and the next day you were. Somehow that thought process made it easier; it made what you and Steve were doing feel more mindless than it actually was. 

But, just because you didn’t like thinking about the beginning didn’t change how it happened. 

It was a New Year’s Eve party at Sam Richards' house. 

You’d shown up alone because Jamie was out of town with family and had been since Christmas. Initially, you were supposed to go with them, but then at the last second, your parents decided to be festive and wanted you to be home for Christmas and the entirety of the holiday break. Weirdly enough, though, it hadn’t been as unbearable as you thought it would be.

However, you were on your own for New Year’s because your dad had a work party that was “adults only.” You honestly didn’t mind though because the thought of being stuck with a bunch of random middle-aged people sounded horrible. So, you instead decided to get stuck with a bunch of people your age, which maybe was just a different kind of bad. 

You heard about the party through a friend of a friend who didn’t even show up. The party was rowdy and boring, which were two words that probably didn’t make sense in the same sentence, but in this instance they surprisingly did.

Eventually, you ended up sitting on the rusty old swing set in the backyard, away from the music and drunk teens. Your sneaker-covered feet pushed into the grass, making you swing a little. You didn’t want to do too much because, with the amount of squeaking the swing was making, it felt as if it was on its last few days of life. 

Because of that squeaking and the fact that you were looking at the ground, you didn’t hear or see Steve walk up to you. 

You noticed him when he was only a few feet away, and you were more confused than startled when he sat down in the open swing next to you. 

“Two minutes to midnight.”

Those were not the first words Steve Harrington had ever said to you. Instead, those had been, “So what do we have to do?” after you two got paired up on a project for English last year. It was two weeks worth of meetups in the library that led to you two getting a B+ and never speaking again. 

Until now, apparently. 

“Fun,” You said because what else were you supposed to say? This entire moment didn’t really make a lot of sense to you.

You looked at Steve sitting next to you. The swing continued to squeak as he started lightly rocking back and forth. The second he met your gaze, you looked away. 

“Where's your boyfriend? Jessie something, right?”

“Jamie,” You corrected him. “He's out of town with family for the holidays. Where's your girlfriend? Mary something?”

You knew it was Nancy. Everyone knew it was Nancy. They were the talk of the school and a cliche case— smart girl falling for the popular guy, also known as the plot to one too many romcoms. 

For some reason, though, you didn’t want Steve to know that you inadvertently paid attention to him just like everyone else at your school. 

“Nancy,” He corrected you. “And she’s also at some family thing.”

You only nodded in response and things became quiet.  

“Y’know, apparently it’s bad luck to not kiss someone when the clock strikes twelve,” Steve said, filling the air of silence.

You ignored his random tidbit, which you weren’t sure was real or not. “Why did you come out here?”

His shoulders upturned in a quick shrug. “You looked bored out here. And I was bored in there.”

You could faintly hear the countdown start in the living room, everyone starting from sixty. 

The next words that should have left your lips should’ve been, “I have a boyfriend. I can't kiss you.” But, instead, you didn’t protest when Steve silently took hold of the chain of your swing and pulled it toward him so that you two were closer. 

You could’ve changed your mind and pushed him away, you should’ve changed your mind and pushed him away, but you decided not to think about it too much. When you heard the countdown get to one and everyone followed up by shouting, “Happy New Year!”, you were inwardly saying fuck it and kissing Steve Harrington in Sam Richards’ backyard. 

It was meant to be innocent, a simple peck just so you both could avoid this “bad luck” that Steve talked about, and it was completely innocent and chaste at first. Until your hand impulsively found Steve's cheek and you deepened the kiss and he didn’t stop you. 

He tasted like cigarettes and champagne, a surprisingly comforting combo, and his free hand moved to your waist, slipping underneath your coat and knit sweater. The feeling of his cold hand against your skin made you inadvertently shiver; you’d forgotten just how cold it was outside. 

“Sorry,” He muttered against your lips. 

It was the first word spoken in the last minute and it somehow managed to wake your mind up and made your thoughts finally start catching up to what was happening in this moment. You quickly realized that anyone could potentially see you two out here and even though the party inside sounded just as loud and lively as it had earlier, it was still a possibility that you two could get caught. 

You pulled back from the kiss and met Steve’s gaze. “We can’t do this here.”

It was the ‘here’ part of your sentence that fully piqued Steve’s interest. 

He stood up from the swing and reached his hand out for you to grab. “Come on.”

You slipped your hand in his and let him lead you out of the backyard and away from the house completely. It took you way too long to realize that he was taking you to his car that was parked down the street. He pulled the backseat door open and let you get inside first. 

You forced yourself not to think about anything aside from how good Steve’s mouth felt on yours and how you liked feeling his cold hands against your skin, traveling from your hips to your waist to your back and pulling you closer to him. 

Seconds blended into minutes and you suddenly weren’t sure how long you’d been in his backseat and how long you had kept nearly bumping your head against the roof every time you slightly shifted in his lap.    

It didn’t make sense to you how okay this all felt. You hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to Steve since last year, and yet you felt entirely comfortable with him right here in this moment.

It didn’t make sense that night and it also didn’t make sense the one after that when you saw him again and you two did a lot more than just make out in the backseat of his car. 

However, what did feel certain was the fact that everything suddenly happening between you two wasn’t meant to be anything more. You knew that you and Steve wouldn’t make sense in the daytime or in the real world. He made sense with Nancy and you made sense with Jamie. That was just the way things worked and both of you unspokenly agreed on that. 

It was only in private when you two surprisingly did make sense, and in some ways, it felt like a no-brainer. Of course, you’d see Steve most nights and during fleeting moments at school. Of course, you’d kiss or do more with him for what felt like hours in his house or your own car. Of course, you’d feel comfortable in his bed with his arms wrapped around you as you two ended up talking about nothing for hours. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You found the note in your locker halfway through third period. You asked your History teacher if you could go to the bathroom and then you headed to your locker instead of the bathrooms that were in the opposite direction because you just knew that something would be in it. 

Meet me. Bathroom. – Steve

The first time he sent a note that basically resembled that one, you laughed because how the hell were you supposed to know what bathroom he meant or when? 

And that was exactly what you told him that night when you two were in your car and he playfully pouted at you, asking why he didn’t get to see you at school. And then he let out a soft “Oh” with his own laugh when he realized that you were right and he didn’t tell you where to go or give you a time. 

From there on out, the bathroom by the gym became your and Steve's meeting place. It was usually always empty because most people opted for using the bathrooms in the gym locker rooms since they were bigger.  

After the first few times you met him there, there was really no reason for Steve to leave notes for you because the place and time was always the same, but you still kind of liked that he did. 

When you walked in at the start of sixth period instead of going to study hall, Steve was already leaning against the sink. 

He smiled when he saw you and you couldn’t help but think that that was the same smile that he’d been giving Nancy earlier; it was the same one he probably always gave her, his girlfriend. 

There was no greeting; no softly spoken “Hi’s” or anything. Instead, Steve was pulling you close and slotting his lips against yours and then shifting you two around so that you were pressed against the sink.

You savored it just for a second before you pulled away. 

“Wait,” You abruptly started and put your hands on his chest to put some distance between you two. “I, um, I think we should stop this.”

Apparently, you were feeling more than just a little bad about everything. 

Steve’s hands fell from your hips and it was easy to read the surprised look on his face, which definitely made sense because it did seem as if your words were coming entirely out of left field. 

“Oh,” He said. The surprised look fell from his face after the quickest moment. “Oh, okay. Yeah, that’s fine.”

His nonchalance toward the situation made it all feel a thousand times easier. Maybe he didn’t really care about all of this, and that should’ve made you feel okay and good and perfectly fine, but if you were being entirely honest with yourself it didn’t make you feel any of that. 

“Okay, cool,” You responded with a forced smile instead of taking your words back or doing anything else about them. “Good to know we’re on the same page.”

He gave you a quick nod. “Yeah.” 

For a second, it was hard to do what you needed to do next, but then you were finally moving away from Steve. No sort of “Goodbye” fell from your lips because it weirdly felt too hard to say the word right then.

Keep walking. Keep walking. Keep walking. 

The two words played on repeat in your head as you forced yourself to leave the bathroom. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Steve was throwing rocks at your window. You didn’t even have to look to know it was him. There was no one else it could be. 

Jamie knocked and walked through your front door like a normal person, and then he’d talk to your parents for the obligatory amount of time that was considered polite (even after being friends for so long and then dating for that past year he was still kinda scared of your dad), and then he’d greet you. 

He would not throw rocks at your window. 

The smallest part of you was glad that Steve was at least doing this now instead of ten minutes earlier when Jamie was still here studying because that would’ve ruined everything for you. However, Steve being here now still pissed you off nonetheless. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” You whisper-yelled when you were standing in front of him in your front yard. You adjusted the hoodie that you haphazardly slipped on in your quick race down the stairs. “My parents are home.”

If he really wanted to, he could’ve called you out on how bad of an excuse that was because there had been many prior moments where your parents' presence hadn’t been that concerning to you. It wasn’t like they checked on you periodically throughout the night, so if you left in the middle of the night, all you had to do was make sure you were back by morning. 

Steve didn’t remind you of any of that, though. Instead, he said, ��I just— I just wanted to tell you something.”

There was something about the way he was talking and his stance right then that made you give him a look. “Are you drunk?”

He answered with the most unconvincing “No” ever and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. 

“How did you get here?”

“Walked,” he answered and you nodded, relieved that he didn’t drive, and then you felt kind of annoyed for caring. You really didn’t want to care about him anymore. 

“So… you, uh, wanted to tell me something?” You asked him. The faster the conversation started, the faster it could be over and he could leave your front yard. 

“Oh, yeah,” He nodded. “I just— I wish you hadn’t ended things with us today.” 

His words confused you because he had seemed perfectly fine about it all earlier. Your eyebrows furrowed. “But, we agreed—“

“I know,” He interrupted you. “I know, and I get it, I guess. But, I just don’t want you to think that it’s easy for me to let you and what we had go. It isn't easy. At all. I didn’t realize how much I really like you and how much I love what we had until you decided to end it.”

You wondered if he was only admitting that because he was drunk; maybe he wouldn’t have said any of that to you otherwise. But, either way, at least he had the guts to say what you’d been too scared to. You hadn’t even really admitted it to yourself, how much you liked and cared about him. As much as you wanted to pretend that what you two had been doing was mindless and didn’t really mean anything, it was actually the complete opposite; of course, it was.

You still had to look away from him in this moment, though, because you weren’t drunk and it felt too hard to admit the truth like he was. “Steve…”

“What changed?” He asked after a moment of what felt like unbearable silence. “Yesterday, we were fine, right?”

You refused to answer his questions because you really didn’t want to rehash everything right then; how your suddenly guilty brain made you impulsively end things with him. You honestly wanted to just forget about everything. 

You shook your head as you sighed. “Let me drive you home, Steve.”

Your words were soft, probably too soft. You wanted to be mean to him, you wanted to push him away; you knew that it would make things easier. But, you couldn’t. 

“Can we walk?”

“Sure, but if you stumble and fall I'm not picking you up.”

He laughed a little as he nodded. “Understandable.” 

You shouldn’t be joking with him, you shouldn’t even be talking to him, but here you were. 

Things were quiet for a few moments, and you figured that maybe this ten-minute walk wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe it would stay silent and you’d say an actual final goodbye to him once you were at his front door and then you two would never talk again; essentially a sort of repeat of what happened last year in English class.

“So, can I know what happened?” Steve asked, breaking the quiet and ruining what you had hoped would happen for the next ten minutes. Apparently, he wasn’t going to let this go until you either told him the truth about what was going on in your head or lied about it all. 

You let out a long breath; you couldn’t find it in you to lie to him in this moment. “I finally realized that we’re shitty people for doing this.” Steve didn’t say anything at first so you took that as your cue to keep going. “You love Nancy and I love Jamie and everything that we’ve been doing for the past month isn’t fair to them and it’s so fucked up. We’re selfish and terrible people, and I kinda hate that this ever started in the first place.”

Finally saying it all out loud made it feel a thousand times more real and certain to you. At least, most of it felt that way. You knew just how shitty all of this was, but you weren’t sure if you’d ever completely regret any of it happening. 

“You don’t love him, though,” Steve said. “At least that’s what you told me that one night.”

You were now learning that Steve Harrington was a good listener, and even with his current inebriation, his memory was still surprisingly good too. 

“That doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change how horrible I feel about all of this.”

You were talking, but all you could think about was the conversation that Steve was referring to. A post-sex conversation that you two had a few weeks ago as you and him were half-naked in the backseat of your car that was parked at Lovers Lake. 

It doesn’t feel right anymore, and I don’t know, maybe it never fully did. I just want to go back to how things were before. But, it feels impossible to tell him any of that. He really loves me, and even though I don't feel the same way anymore, I don’t want to hurt him or break his heart. He's still my best friend. I'll always love him like that. 

It was hard to remember what Steve said in response to that or if he even said anything at all. All you could remember was that the second the words left your mouth, you wanted to forget about it. You’d been way too honest, saying things that you had never admitted out loud before, but somehow you were admitting them to Steve.  

“You’re right,” He said to you now. “We are bad people for doing this.”

Things became quiet then because what else was there really to say? You both were in agreement. 

You two continued walking the short distance to his house. When he started going off course a bit too much, stepping on and off of people’s yards instead of staying on the sidewalk, you grabbed his hand to keep him close and steady. 

You didn’t drop it once you two were at his front door or even when he asked you to come inside. Against your better judgment, you silently let him lead you into his house. You toed off your shoes at the door like you always did and then followed him up the stairs. You told yourself that you were just making sure he made it into bed alright.

“You okay?” You asked once you two were in his room. 

You were just wondering if he was feeling dizzy or needed to throw up, but Steve took your question in an entirely different way. 

He shook his head. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

“Okay, I’m gonna miss you.”

“I…” You let out a soft sigh. “I don’t know what you want me to say to that.”

You wished that he would kick you out, or even yell at you. If he was mean to you, it’d make it easier to leave his house, to leave him. Deep down you knew that he would never do that, though.

“Why can’t we just…” He trailed off for a second, and you were certain that he forgot where he was going with his words, but then he continued. “Do this?”

“Do what?” You asked, even though you had a feeling what he meant but you hoped you were wrong. 

“Be together for real,” He said, and in an entirely different world it would’ve made you happy hearing that, but in this world his statement only made things feel so much more complicated. “We won’t be bad people anymore if we just stop lying.”

For the briefest second, you imagined saying yes and agreeing with him, and for that quick second, the thought actually sounded really nice. 

“Or we won’t be bad people anymore if we just stop everything,” You told him instead of being honest and admitting that you liked him a lot more than you had ever led on, and that even though you had wanted this to mean nothing, you had also really enjoyed the nights where you two talked for hours upon hours about anything. 

“Okay,” He said, no longer debating your words and simply accepting them for what they were.

You nodded and then the simple word fell from your lips too. “Okay.”

That was definitely your cue to leave, but you didn’t say any kind of “goodbye” and neither did Steve. It was obvious that things were different, but they didn’t entirely feel that way just yet, so that made you stay. 

“Do you want me to leave?” You asked softly after a few moments of just watching him move about his bedroom, pulling off the jacket he was wearing and hanging it on the back of his door. 

Steve shook his head, meeting your eyes again. “No, I’ll always want you to stay.”

You couldn’t help but give him a small smile and a simple nod as a way to say “Okay.” You knew that this entire interaction was sending nothing but mixed signals, but your mind was a mess of contradictions and only felt confused, and you just really didn’t want to think too much anymore. 

It was warm in his room, so you pulled off your hoodie, leaving you in just your t-shirt and shorts, and you hung it up where his jacket was on his door. Silently, you joined him at his bed, settling yourself and laying down in the spot that you’d been in more times than you could count at this point.  

“I’m sorry,” You whispered in the darkness after a while. “That things can’t be different.” 

Steve moved closer to you, slipping an arm around your waist. “They could be.”

“I know,” You finally admitted, leaning into his touch. “But, it’s just too hard.”

He didn’t ask you to elaborate on what you meant, probably because he understood or he was just tired of this constant back and forth. 

You told yourself that you’d only stay for five minutes. And when five minutes turned to ten, you told yourself that you at least wouldn’t fall asleep. 

But, of course, you did. You felt too comfortable and at ease in Steve’s arms not to.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

part two!

let me know ur thoughts<333

[nochedie]

sleepless | dean winchester 🌙

pairing: dean winchester x reader

genre: fluff

wordcount: 689

summary: after a night of staring at the ceiling, drowning in your own thoughts, dean helps you fall asleep

a/n: actually wrote this at 3am last night because i couldn’t sleep! i haven’t written for dean yet and i really wanted to show him love so here’s a short little drabble! listened to simulation swarm by big thief while writing 🫶🏼

2am.

your bare feet lightly padded across the laminate of the motel room floor, and you felt around to help you navigate the poorly lit room.

you flinched as your hip bumped into the table, making a bit of noise. you turned to look in the direction of the bed you got out of to grab a drink of water, and through the slight illumination from the moon through the sheer curtain, you could see dean stirring slightly and you hoped you hadn’t woken him.

the motel you were staying in had a small kitchenette with a refrigerator, and you had put a water bottle in there earlier in the day to cool. you grabbed the water bottle and savoured the feeling of the liquid on your dry throat, instantly refreshing. you took the bottle back over to the bed and placed it on the bedside table before trying your best to get back into bed without making any noise.

“you okay, baby?” dean spoke, voice even deeper than usual with sleep.

“yeah, i just needed a drink. go back to sleep, love.” you placed a hand on his hair, brushing your fingers through until you heard his breathing deepen as he fell back into a peaceful slumber.

you stared up at the ceiling, willing your eyes to shut.

3am.

you were still wide awake, having not slept a wink. you turned to dean, still fast asleep. you could just about see his silhouette in the darkness, and you leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

3:30am.

dean began to stir beside you when you moved to grab the water bottle from the bedside table.

almost instinctively, and still half asleep, he reached out an arm to drape across your waist.

you paused your movements, frustrated with yourself for making too much noise and disturbing him.

“c’mere.” dean tugs your form slightly, prompting you to put down the water bottle and slip back down beside him.

“can’t sleep?” he tries to suppress a yawn.

“not really.” not at all, in fact. you hadn’t slept a wink all night and you didn’t even feel close to falling asleep.

one of dean’s hands found yours, and he placed a gentle kiss to your neck. “anything i can do?”

“no.. it’s alright.” you turned your body to face him, shuffling as close as you could as dean wraps you up in his arms.

“have you slept at all tonight?” he questioned.

“no…”

“baby…” dean brushes a few strands of hair away from your face. “is there something wrong?”

“there’s nothing wrong, really. it’s just… i don’t know, i guess i’ve been a bit more stressed than usual lately.”

“why didn’t you tell me?” his tone was soft and concerned. he wasn’t berating you, but rather worried that he had done something wrong or that you didn’t trust to tell him about any of your worries, big or small.

“i didn’t want to bother you with it…”

“you couldn’t bother me if you tried, sweetheart.”

“i worry about you. i worry about sam and cas. i worry about everybody we’ve ever known. i don’t think i could cope with losing anybody else…” your brain was full and it wouldn’t turn off. countless scenarios playing in your head on a constant loop.

“i worry about that too, baby… but you need your sleep. you must be tired.” truthfully, you were exhausted. but everything was just so loud.. it wouldn’t grant you peace.

dean knew you loved to hear him sing, even though he would only do it once in a blue moon and never in front of anybody but you. feelings of content smothered you as soon as the first note left his lips.

“i close my eyes… only for a moment, and the moments gone…”

after a few moments, the sound of his voice, his touch, his scent, him, muted the sound of your crushing thoughts.

it didn’t take you long after that to finally allow sleep to engulf you. by the end of the song you were fast asleep, your breathing deepening with each passing moment.

“sweet dreams, baby.”

comments, feedback etc always appreciated! thank you for reading!

[jyoongim]

Heyyy, it’s me again, the singer anon. Can I request an Alastor x Reader where she is sent by as a spy by Vox after our fav slithery boy failed? She’s really bubbly and friendly, but she eventually grows to care for everyone in the hotel but Vox owns her soul. She torn in between getting herself killed by him and not betraying anyone anymore, or continuing the job. She goes and confesses to Alastor, breaking down and thinking he’ll kill her, which she thinks would be best so she doesn’t have to betray anyone anymore. Just breaking down in tears telling him she doesn’t want to hurt anyone but Vox has her under a contract, begging him to kill her so she doesn’t have to. Just for Alastor to call her a good girl and ughhhh some possessive smut if you don’t mind? Sorry brain rots in my head and I’m in love with him, lol. Thank you! <3 also the three requests story set off the trigger in my head, loved it! Thanks again! <3!

This been in my inbox for weeks and i finally got a plot for it!

⚠️warning: 18+! Smut smut smut! Plot if you look hard enough!

—————————————————————————————

No one suspected a thing.

You were sent to the Hazbin Hotel after Sir Pentious miserable attempt.

Your orders were simple: ”Keep an eye out on that old fossil. I want to know why that fucker is sucking up the Lucifer’s daughter”

And you did just that…you were executing your mission flawlessly.

Until you began to care about those who stayed at the hotel.

Until you began to grow closer to the Radio Demon.

————————————————————————————

You had been staying at the hotel for a few months now and its been great!

Charlie was always finding new ways to help the residents build bonds and encouraging everyone to do their best.

At first, you were arrogant, playing along until you actually saw the the demons there were actually changing even if they didn’t admit it

But now, you thought of the princess as a friend, along with everyone else.

Especially Alastor.

Now that you’ve been around him, you’re not sure why Vox hate the demon so much.

Alastor was funny, kind (in his own twisted way), and truly looked after the hotel.

A soft smile curled on your lips as you thought about the demon, but the ringing of your phone interrupted such thoughts.

Vox.

You took a deep breath and answered “H-Hello?”

”Tonight’s your chance to take out that prick and after that come home” he demanded.

You blinked “what? B-but Vox…” you bit your lips “But it’s actually nice here. The hotel isn’t a scam…a-and everyone is a lot nicer than we thought ” Vox laughed “Oh baby please! Nice? You actually believe in that redemption crap? You think that they’ll let you stay if they knew why you truly were there? Hahaha! Oh my dumb little girl, how naive you are. ” 

You pouted, a frown on your face “I want to stay”

Vox growled through the phone “ah ah baby you don’t make demands remember?” 

Electrical shocks ran through your body from the collar you wore.

You gasped in pain “I OWN you. Did you forget that? You do whatever I say when I say it. Now I expect you home before morning or I will kill you.”

The phone call ended and you were in tears.

You didn’t want to go back. 

You liked being at the hotel and able to be yourself. 

You liked the friends you had made here.

You would do anything for them, even if you had to die to make your wrongs right.

————————————————————————

“Come in” the voice answered after you knocked on the door. You were sweating as you stood outside of Alastor’s door.

You had decided that if you were going to tell anyone why you were at the hotel, it would be Alastor.

You opened the door and walked into his radio studio.

”Hey Al” you said weakly as the demon spun around and smiled at you “Hello darlin! What do I owe the pleasure?”

You fiddled with your hands.

”I want to tell you why I came to the hotel”

Alastor quirked a eyebrow, smile widening as he gestured for you to take a seat on the couch.

”Do entertain me of your tale my dear”

You were in tears by the time you finished telling Alastor everything.

Of Vox and his plan.

The deal between you and Vox.

The reason you came to the hotel.

Everything.

”I-I’m sorry! So so sorry! I-I just didn’t know what to do!

Kill me! I deserve it! J-Just let me say my goodbyes first. I would rather you kill me than Vox! Please!” You cried, hands covering your face as you sobbed.

Alastor had been quiet for the entirety of your confession. He had half a mind to kill you when you told him of your deal with Vox.

The pesky television didn’t know when to mind his business.

His eyes focused on the collar around your neck.

 You were Vox’s and by contract, he wasn’t allowed to kill you.

And he wasn’t. No he had grown accustom to the pretty demon who seemed to light the hotel’s halls.

However…he could override Vox’s ownership of your soul.

You flinched when you felt a large hand pat the top of your head. You looked up through teary eyes ay Alastor, who just sported a soft smile.

”Now now my dear don’t you worry. I appreciate that you came to and confided in me. What a good girl you are.” His smile stretched as you sniffled, looking at him with glossy eyes.

”Y-Youre not g-gonna k-kill me?” You asked looking down.

He chuckled as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, claws finding their way under your chin to make you look at him

He rolled his eyes ”Oooh my dear of course not…” His fingers trailed down your neck, toying with your collar. “But I am in a bit of predicament”

You wiped at your eyes “how so?”

“Under normal circumstances, I would rip you to shreds and broadcast your screams for all of Hell to hear” his pupils turned to dials and his smiled turned wicked. You felt your heart stop a little.

He calmed down slightly “however I have another idea to break your deal with Vox” 

He smiled at you as you tilted your head in confusion.

”I know just the thing hehehe”

————————————————————————————

You whimpered as you tried to hold yourself up against the force of Alastor’s thrusts. “A-Al!” You whined as the demon tugged your hair to pull your body into his. A deep growl vibrated through you as Alastor sunk into your weeping heat, his cock hitting that soft spot inside you.

“Fuuuucckk!” You hissed, eyes rolling into your skull as your body buzzed with pleasure.

Alastor pulled your body til your back was flushed against his chest, his sharp teeth nipped at your skin before latching on and marking you. You winced as his tongue lapped at the blood, he purred as trailed his tongue up your neck.

”To think Vox had such a sweet cunt all to himself. Ooh darlin you’re wasted on him. But you’ll be a good girl for me wont you? You seem to love having a real cock fucking you” he chortled, giving you a harsh thrust. His hips grinded up into your ass, coaxing your cunt to take every inch over and over.

Your gummy walls tightened around him as you whined at his words. You could barely focus on what he was saying, not giving two shits either as he bullied your insides.

”I-I can be a good girl please please oh fuck! Aah! Aah!” You whined. Alastor’s large hands trailed up your body; kneading, pawing, and squeezing at your supple flesh. Pausing at your bouncing tits to tweak your hardened nipples, sending currents to your abandoned clit.

“I know you will baby” 

He nudges his head into yours, to gain your attention and capture your lips with his, swallowing your moans as one of his hands moves down to toy with your puffy clit.

Your body jerked as he rubbed tight circles on the bud; your cunt fluttering as slick dripped down your thighs.

”Ill make a deal with you darlin” he whispered against your lips, lidded eyes staring into yours, as you mewled, wanting his tongue back down your throat. 

“I keep this little mishap under wraps and in return you belong to me. Youre free to do whatever your heart but im no pushover m,a cherie.”

His thrusts sped up as he pinched your clit.

You keened, pushing your hips back into his, trying to follow the motion of his fingers, seeking to reach your orgasm.

”Do we have a deal?” He purred never breaking his pace.

Your collar let out blue sparks, Vox’s way of ‘reinforcing’ his control over you. You whimpered as the shocks edged you, but Alastor let out a deep growl as he wrapped his claws around the collar.

”Do we have a deal?” A snap of his hips pulled a moan from your throat.

”oh! Yes! Yes! F-fuuuc-cckk”

Static ran through your body causing you to jerk as your orgasm washed over you, your collar fizzled out as Alastor’s cock pounded your cunt, riding your orgasm out.

The wet SQUELCH! Of your cunt echoed as high pitched whines left your throat. 

“That’s a good girl. Cummin all over my cock. Feels better than that robot huh? Yeeesss fuck! Take my cum darlin take it”

Your eyes crossed as your mouth opened in a scream. Alastor crashed his lips on yours, tongue pushing through your lips and pulling you into a heated kiss as he pumped you full of his cum.

Alastor let out a sigh as he slipped out of you, cock coated in creamy essence and smiling as he watched your cunt clench around nothing and dripping cum.

In your dazed state, you faintly heard a snap and a cool sensation coated your neck.

Instead of the sapphire jeweled collar, a gold chained ruby hung from your neck.

Alastor hummed as he rubbed your tired body, smiling wickedly as he slotted back into your soppy heat. You moaned softly as he rolled his hips against you.

”now lets send that mediocre podcast a proper video”

[suhsweet]

for halloween ⟡ kmg

wc: 3097 | pair: bf!mingyu x afab!reader | genre: smut, 18+ (minors go away) | tags: horror movie mentions, brief mention of gore (in relation to horror movie), living room sex, netflix & chill, size kink, fingering, reader has medium to long hair

summary: “I want to see if we can fuck each others’ brains out, so good to the point that we forget that there’s a scary movie playing right in front of us.”

authors note: sorry, i’ve been away for forever. with halloween coming up, i rushed this to get it out in time. it's not the best, but please enjoy <3

“Kim Mingyu, we are not spending our Saturday night watching a horror movie out of all things.”

“Sure we are, for Halloween.”

You smack a palm against your forehead, watching your stupid boyfriend flick through stupid Netflix on the stupid TV to search for a stupid horror movie. The options flick past, each movie poster looking more creepy and gruesome than the last.

“You forgot the biggest issue here. We both hate horror movies. We don’t like horror.”

“I know, but I think I might come to love it after tonight,” Mingyu smirks to himself and he waves you over towards him.

“Why do you think that?” Your eyes narrow, watching your soon-to-be-dumped boyfriend choose a film that you didn’t bother to learn the name of. As the screen goes black, the movie poster remains in your mind. All you remember are the blood splatters on the main character’s face, and the shadowy figure behind them.

The image brings about a chill down your spine, causing you to spin around and start heading for your shared bedroom. “Nope. Actually, don’t worry. Enjoy your movie! I’m just gonna hide here for the next hour and forty five minutes...”

“Baby no!” Mingyu laughs and you hear him follow you.

The heavy slap of his house slippers rapidly follow you as you speed away, a squeal threatening to escape your throat. Nevertheless, you're effortlessly scooped up into his arms bridal style.

Maybe if you close your eyes and go limp like a dead fish he’ll change his mind… You give up on fighting your boyfriend's strong hold, allowing your head to flop backward and your arms to your sides.

Entering the living room once more, Mingyu's laughter echoes throughout the apartment. Still holding you in his arms, he falls onto the plush sofa causing the both of you to let out a simultaneous ‘oomph’.

He keeps you sideways on his lap, one arm braced around your waist. He fusses over you, brushing your hair out of your face as he acts oblivious to your squirming.

You're trying your best to wriggle your way out of this cage of yummy tanned skin and muscle before he presses play on the movie. “Let me goooooo!”

“No!” Mingyu grunts, and if you thought his hold was tight enough, he pulls you in even tighter.

After three minutes of Mingyu chuckling at your poor attempts of escape, you eventually give up. It's times like these that you remember that he goes to the gym everyday, and never fails to meet his target protein intake. With him sitting down, you also forget he looms over you like a skyscraper. Fighting him is impossible.

You pout, crossing your arms with a soft, "Hmmph."

Mingyu gives a satisfied whoop as he settles you in his arms. Your attempts of appearing annoyed with him immediately dissolves as the ominous music grows louder.

Suddenly, the lamp beside your sofa switches off. Apart from the TV itself, it was the main source of light in the otherwise dark room. Your head whips over to see Mingyu in the process of retracting his hand from the switch, a devilish grin on his face.

“Where is my boyfriend!?” You practically wail. “My Mingyu wouldn’t even look at the horror section on Netflix!”

Mingyu just chuckles to himself. You bury your face in his chest, and wrap your arms around his neck. The beginnings of the jump-scares and screaming starts, and you feel the thrum of your pulse quicken.

Mingyu coos at you and begins to rub his hand across your back rhythmically. His other hand cradles your head to him. His lips softly press kisses into your hair, slowly trailing down to your temple, cheek, jaw, and then your neck. The kisses gradually go from sweet and brief, to slow and burning. You can hear his lips coming into contact with your skin, and the soft suction of his mouth.

“Mingyu…” You clench the fabric of his hoodie in your fist.

“I had a thought,” he says, completely ignoring you.

“Something you should stop doing after this,” you grumble. Being scared and horny is a weird and unfamiliar sensation.

Mingyu chuckles softly. The light touch of the back of his pointer finger tickles your cheek. You notice the way his eyes become half-lidded, hypnotized. “I want to see if we can fuck each others’ brains out, so good to the point that we forget that there’s a scary movie playing right in front of us..”

A shocked laugh bubbles up inside of you. It takes you a second to process the unexpected turn of events. “For Halloween?”

“Yup,” the side of his mouth quirks up slightly as your eyes meets his.

“You better make me scream louder than her,” you point your finger to the TV screen where all sorts of terror is occurring to the main character.

Mingyu kisses up and down your jaw once more, his fingers gripping your sides as if wondering whether to rip off your clothes or take them off intact. “I’ll try my best, baby.”

Suddenly upright and straddling Mingyu’s lap, your fingers snake through your lover’s hair. Through your lashes, you delight in the way he completely succumbs himself to your touch. Like he's happy to take anything that you'll give him, his head is tilted backwards and his eyes are shut.

Mingyu is chasing your lips when you pull back from the kiss, refusing to have your faces more than an inch away from the other. You’re about to tease his dopey expression when the back of your head is held in place by his hand, and his lips are back on yours. Your teeth clash briefly before you find your rhythm, his tongue teasing your own. And all while this is happening, he’s humping up into you.

“How am I already pussy drunk and I haven’t even taken your clothes off?” Mingyu whispers into your ear, nipping the lobe before kissing your neck. He’s licking stripes, making marks, and worshipping the skin where your jaw and neck meet. The sensation has your toes curling and your eyes screwing shut.

“Min…gyu,” you sigh out. Your hands steady themselves on his firm shoulders and you begin to grind against his heavy bulge. He watches in amazement, lazily palming your breast and breathing heavily.

You’ve always loved the sounds that Mingyu makes when you fuck. His raspy voice was already attractive, but in bed? When it’s heavy with lust and need for only you? It’s fucking heavenly.

“So, so pretty,” Mingyu sighs, eyes rolling when your hips move a certain way. You pause to reach under the waistband of his black sweats, easily finding his arousal.

His hand reaches up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the shape of your bottom lip. You immediately catch it in your mouth and start sucking it like you would a lollypop. Your tongue in particular starts drawing patterns on the pad of this thumb. Mingyu’s gaze seems to grow darker as he watches you.

Immediately he retracts his hand, and starts stripping you of your shirt. You help take off the last of it off your body while Mingyu eagerly latches his mouth onto your chest, a hand greedily grabbing and squeezing the one that doesn’t have the attentions of his tongue.

You’re the one holding his head close this time. You watch Mingyu with his mouth on your tits, licking and sucking as if you’re his life source. He looks completely drunk on you, focused on worshipping your body. Your sounds encourage him to reach down into your pants, nudging away your panties to find your slick folds.

His fingers outline the folds of your pussy, then focus on your clit. You hum with approval as he starts drawing circles on the little nub. You feel him go back to tasting your tits, switching between kissing your neck and whispering dirty things into your ear.

“Your fingers… Fuck,” you pant. “I’m gonna-”

“I know baby,” Mingyu takes in your expressions with a satisfied smirk. His fingers speed up, pressing firmly. He pulls your head down to kiss you, wanting to feel you moan against his lips as you cum.

And you do; with your lips pressed to Mingyu’s, holding onto his shoulders as you buck against his fingers. His gaze burns into you, and it's so intense that if you weren’t in the middle of an orgasm, you would’ve blushed furiously.

As you come down from your high, Mingyu's there to hold you steady. You lazily kiss him, telling him thanks with your tongue and soft moans. His fingers dive into your hair, making your pretty tresses snake around his fingers. He plays with the ends of the strands just as you pull away and start to get on your knees.

"What're you doing?" He whines, hands gripping your arms firmly.

You frown. "Returning the favor."

"No, no, no," he rushes out. You're pulled back up on your feet when Mingyu unceremoniously yanks your pants down and pulls you back onto his lap. "I need you now."

You giggle at his desperation, and allow him to manhandle you. He strips himself of his shirt while you line his cock up to your pussy. You’re so close to having him stretch you out that your toes curl from anticipation.

However, after many lessons learnt you remembered to prep yourself at the last second. Effortlessly, you lean down to spit onto Mingyu’s cock, rubbing it all over the tip until it glistens.

Mingyu groans. “It’s so hot when you do that.”

You wink at him. His grip on your waist keep you steady as you slowly lower yourself. On instinct your eyes flicker to his to watch the minor changes in his expression as he feels your body take him. The softening of his eyes, the soft flare of his noise and the plush of his lips caught between his teeth.

And although the two of you have had sex enough times to know the other’s body like their own, the feeling of you bottoming out on his cock never gets old. Feeling so full, and so stretched out, nothing could feel as good as Mingyu’s heavy cock.

His eyes seem to dart across every plane on your face, wanting to take in your expressions too. You tenderly kiss him on the mouth and slowly start to move.

“Fuck…” Mingyu breathes out, his eyes fluttering closed.

As you start to work your body on his dick, Mingyu’s arms circle around your body. His trunk-like arms keep you close to him as he presses his head into your shoulder, breathing heavily and taking in your scent.

It’s so intimate, and perfect until you hear the movie and remember that it's still playing. Your attention unintentionally flickers over to the TV just in time to witness a jump scare. The sudden close up of the monster's morbid features, combined with the loud music has you squeezing Mingyu tighter, and a minor squeak leaves you as you jump in fright.

Mingyu’s perks up, alert. You briefly witness the protective side of him come out. His misplaced concern has you feeling sorry, and a small laugh escapes you.

His expression softens when he looks back at you and sees you smiling. He doesn't say anything, but his face asks you about what happened.

"I saw a jump scare," you admit, noticing your movements have slowed.

Mingyu shakes his head in mock disappointment. "Well that won't do. My theory would be proven wrong..." His warm, large hands trail upwards from your hips to your sides. His warm palms smooth over your upper back, creeping up past your shoulder blades before stopping at the curve of each of your shoulders.

You gaze up at him just as he pulls your body down onto him by your shoulders. The sudden intrusion doesn't hurt, but it makes you gasp. Suddenly feeling full brings an unfamiliar pleasure, and judging by your lover's face, he definitely loves it.

Mingyu's heavy lidded gaze never strays from your face, but he breaths heavily as he fucks up into you. His grip never weakens, even while your chanting his name, even while your legs squeeze together in an effort to halt his movements as you come. He manages to continue to fuck you regardless.

That has you forgetting about the movie in an instant.

"Holy... Fuck," you groan in between heavy breaths.

"What do you think of the movie so far?" Mingyu teases as he lifts you off of him and onto the sofa, on your back. As he covers your body with his own, you feel him tease your breasts. Each nipple is pinched, and the other even gets a little nip.

"Mmm," you gather your hair out from under you in an effort to get comfortable. You reach between your legs to reach for his cock. "What movie?"

Mingyu laughs as he slowly kisses up your chest and onto your lips. Your open mouthed kisses are interrupted by the sensation of him filling you up, and the two of you groan into each other's mouths.

"Fuck, angel," Mingyu's rasping into your mouth. He lays his right forearm down next to your head, while his other arm is next to your waist holding himself up. They both work to keep his weight from crushing you, but allows him to still feel every inch of your skin touching his own. "You don't understand how much I fucking need you."

Feeling caged in like this has you feeling so safe that you start to go delirious. Everywhere you look is Mingyu. If you look up, you'll find him watching you with your name escaping his lips like it was a prayer. If you look between your legs, you can see the silhouette of his heavy cock thrusting into you, making you feel so full. If you look to either side of you, you'd see his muscles working to keep himself up.

"So good," you gasp. He seems to agree from the way that his head dips down to kiss you. Your bottom lip gets stuck in-between his teeth as he sucks at it hungrily.

Unlike you, Mingyu isn’t caged in. He has the freedom to look anywhere but down, to avoid looking at your pretty face and increase the chances of him coming early. Yet, like magnets, his eyes can’t stray far from your pretty lips or flushed cheeks. The little sweat beads that decorate your face are his doing, just like the fucking delectable view of your breasts bouncing from his thrusts.

The possessive side of him revels in the fact that only he can see you like this. He likes that it’s because of him that you’re feeling this pleasure.

Your arms loop around his neck, tugging his head back down. Your lips meet in another round of hungry kisses. The two of you are as close of you can get, sharing the same breath, with your foreheads pressed together. Your skin is slick with sweat– his or yours, you're not sure. Mingyu looks close, and to catch up, you bring your fingers to your clit.

"Good girl," he praises. "Make sure you come with me. Come on this cock, baby."

You can't even give him a proper reply. All you can do is nod as you watch him work you both to the edge.

Without warning, you feel yourself come first and your words come out slurred. "'Gyu, 'm cummin'."

Your words act as the catalyst and Mingyu squeezes his eyes shut. He buries his head into your neck, allowing only you to hear his deep moans.

The last of your orgasms drain from the two of you, and you laugh softly up at your lover. He grins down at you, leaning in to kiss you when the final jump-scare from the movie makes itself known.

A loud screech from the movie’s demon, combined with the sharp music has you both jumping in fright. Mingyu collapse onto you, hugging your body and burying his face into your neck. You instinctively stretch your arms around his shoulders as if that would protect him from any bad guys, and you shut your eyes from seeing any more of the film.

The music changes after a few seconds, making you peek an eye open. The credits are creeping up the screen, and you let out a loud sigh as you go limp.

Mingyu’s head perks up to look at you, and then the TV. “Hey! We did it.”

You laugh, remembering the stupid theory your boyfriend came up with. Your hand rises in a hi-five to which Mingyu slaps enthusiastically.

Mingyu takes in your dopey, fucked-out expression with a toothy grin of his own. You feel him press a smattering of kisses all over your face, and then the pressure of his body rolling away from you to retrieve the TV remote. Even if it's just to turn the TV off, you whine in protest at the idea of having to separate from him so soon. You rise and attach yourself to his back like a koala would a tree.

Mingyu stands, fixing his arms into the crooks of your knees to piggyback you. He walks to your bedroom with a pep in his step. He mumbles to himself, “I won’t be able to sleep all night after that movie.”

His innocuous tone makes you laugh. “Because you were definitely focused on the movie and nothing else.”

“Yeah, yeah. It had demons and stuff.”

“Oh yeah, I remember seeing that too,” you laugh. "Did you see the thing that happened to that person at that place?"

"Oh yeah, totally," Mingyu scoffs. "I know exactly what you're talking about. Wasn't scared of that at all."

He deposits you at the foot of your bed and starts to crawl up on top of you again, his body acting as a cage once more.

The predatorial gleam in his eyes elicits a shiver from you.

“You know, I normally find it hard to fall asleep after watching scary movies too,” you say as Mingyu leans down to kiss your jaw.

Mingyu hums in interest. “Glad to hear it isn’t just me. But I know a couple things we could do to help us sleep.”

You burst out laughing at the cheesiness of it all. Mingyu looks up at you, giving you another of his precious toothy grins. You smile, combing your fingers through his hair and tugging gently. “Alright, alright, let’s get into round two already.”

[luvyeni]

⠀ ( drabble ) juno ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 심재윤 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ ready to spend the rest of your life with jake ヾ

boyfriend!jake・ reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎ ‎ ‎soft sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ wc ・ ‎0.8k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. can i request… being so down bad in love w a good guy jake (princess treatment and all) and perhaps.. inspired by sabrina’s “juno” 😸 the song has been a brainrot for me 😿 can be fluff but also spicy pretty please thank u <3

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 this was just too cute and i love sabrina 🥺😭

you were deeply in love with jake , it was almost scary at times because you've never felt this type of way for another human being , and then he came along and completely warped your mind.

it's not like you were the only one in love; he was the reason you were like this— he basically waited on you; when he was around you could turn your brain off and let him do everything , and everything he did. jake cleaned , cooked, bought your clothes; he'd go to work for you if he could.

you've never given marriage or starting a family a long thought , if it happened it happened; if it didn't you were fine with living a single child free life, but with jake — you were definitely leaning into the you want it to happen side , a family with jake seemed like a dream. “baby.”

you smiled hearing your boyfriend's voice. “baby what are you doing in here , i told you i cook for you so you don't have to worry your pretty little head.” wrapped his arms around your waist. “but it does smell good.” he kissed your cheek. “i made it for you jakey.” you smiled. “what's the occasion?”

“to show how much i love you.” he chuckled. “you do that all the time.” he rubbed your waist. “i cook for you, okay princess?” you pouted. “fine but when we get married and have kids don't complain when you have to cook all the time.”

“when we get married?” he said your eyes widened at what you said. “i can't believe i said that.” you began to panic, thinking you scared him off. “im-im sorry , i wasn't…” he shut you up with a kiss , quick to turn the stove off. he pulled away, caressing your cheek. “you wanna get married?”

you nodded shyly , he smiled. “have a few babies?” he chuckled seeing you shy away. “no don't hide from me , i want this too , just waited for you to give me the go.” he kissed you passionately. “so let me fuck you tonight.” he whispered. “give you a baby and in the morning i’ll get you the best ring i can get.”

after basically giving him the go, he was taking you back to the room, laying you down gently like he always did, stripping you of your clothes , diving head first into your cunt. “jake.” you moaned, he always made sure to make you cum on his tongue before fucking you , and right now he needed you to be as wet as he could get you — he wanted you dripping for him.

he lapped at your cunt , his plump lips engulfing your clit , your fingers threading his hair, pulling at it as he suck on your bud. “fuck jake im gonna cum.” he smiled against your heat. “go ahead.” he inserted a finger. “cum for me bub.”

he held your legs down as you came , thighs shaking. “fuck baby girl that's it.” he helped you ride out your orgasm. “cum all over my fingers.” he bit his lip , pulling his fingers out. “gonna make you cum on my cock just like that.”

his cock rested on your stomach , pre-cum pooling from the tip. “got so much cum for you pretty.” he groaned as he entered you. “give you as many babies as you wanted.” you gasped as he fully bottomed out. “keep you pretty and swollen for me.” he grunted as he thrusted. “fuck just for me.”

“w-wanna g-get married jakey.” you moaned , he shushed you kissing your lips. “i know baby , of course im gonna marry you sweet girl.” you moaned as he thrusted. “gonna give you the best wedding.” his thrust never letting up. “fuck me , gonna give you everything , you'll never have to work again , just sit home and be my pretty wife.”

he actually talked a good game, you could actually see the future; waiting for jake to walk in the door , child on your hip as you cooked dinner for the three of you , him coming home getting you with a kiss and a rub to your pregnant belly — it was the life you wanted with him. “jake im gonna cum.”

he had your legs folded in half. “fuck , you can cum princess , cum so i can fill you with my cum.” you screamed out , cumming hard around his length. “yeah , fuck baby , fuck im gonna cum.”

he let out a whimper like moan as he came , his cum flooding your insides. “fuck im cumming so much.” he groaned. “gonna fill you up.” he said , his thrust slowing down before coming to a stop. “so full jake.” smiled. “i know pretty girl.” he cooed. “but we aren't done.” he said “gotta give my wife what she wants.”

“gotta make sure your pretty pussy takes my cum , give us a pretty baby.”

©LUVYENI

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Broken Mind | Josh Washington x Reader

......

Another day, another Until Dawn rewrite by yours truly <3

I've got Rami Malek on the brain again so I decided to revise this old 2016 fic I wrote about Josh being accompanied by Reader in the shed (after his prank reveal). Changed a few things around and added stuff from the prologue, but all in all the plot's the same (except they're together)

Anyways enjoy!

......

"Hey, [y/n]. Got a special delivery for you."

Hearing the quiet giggles of the Washington sisters, you looked up from your phone and smiled upon seeing your boyfriend being held up by the two of them.

He looked plastered as hell and half-asleep, but his eyes were slightly open. The moment they landed on you, lopsided grin spread across his lips.

"[Y/n]...baby...?"

"Yes. It's me, Josh." With a chuckle, you put down your phone and assisted the girls in helping him lay on the sofa. You decided to let him rest on top of you, seeing as he already had his arms wrapped around your torso. "Jeez, so clingy, huh? How much did you drink?"

"Mhm...I forgot.." His words were slurred.

"Of course you did." Putting your arms around him, you lightly scratched at his scalp with your fingertips, hearing his hums of content as he looked to his sisters.

While Hannah left, Beth smiled back and took a picture of him being all cuddly with you, reminding herself to send to you later. After that, she finally left you both alone.

"They take good care of you."

"Yeah..they're..the best." Josh mumbled tiredly into your chest, hugging you tighter. "But 'm glad you're here...thank you for being by my side. I love you sooooooooooo much."

"Of course, Joshie. I love you, too." You chuckled, holding him close until he dozed off again, before you ended up falling asleep yourself, enveloped by the warmth of the cabin fire and the one you loved most.

He probably won't remember much of this in the morning, but that was fine.

For once, everything felt right in the world.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"[Y/n], honey? Baby? Sweetheart?"

Blinking, you returned to the cold and cruel present, looking to the man tied to the post.

"Yes, Josh?" You sighed tiredly, wiping the blood from the corner of your lip.

"I'm pretty cold. How 'bout we loosen these restraints a little and-?"

"I'm sorry, but...I don't think that's a good idea right now."

"What? I....I can't believe it. You would let those jerks do this to me?!! Your boyfriend? After all I've done for you?!!" Angrily, Josh tugged at his restraints, gnashing his teeth at you like some animal. "I feel hurt. Who does this to someone they love?!"

"First of all, I didn't tie you up. And second...you're not the only one who's gotten hurt tonight."

"If anyone deserves to feel hurt, it should be me! After what they did to my sisters..they had it coming."

As much as you wanted to snap at him for acting this way, you knew that he wasn't well, and getting angry right back wasn't going to make anything better.

Instead, you opted to look outside the shed, observing the snowfall while trying to ignore the sounds of him whining and struggling with the ropes.

Such sights used to calm your nerves, but now...it was nothing more than a grim reminder of how long and unforgiving this night has been, and how there's still a few hours until sunlight and rescue arrived.

How did you get here?

Well, it was supposed to be a reunion between friends.

You and Josh were still together after the horrible tragedy that befell his sisters exactly one year prior, and you were with him through the long days he spent trying to isolate himself, and the difficult nights he spent wishing he didn't wake up at all.

You stayed with him no matter what.

No matter how many times he tried pushing you away...you always stayed. And while he didn't express it as much as he wanted to, he appreciated it.

That's the only reason why he didn't subject you to the "prank" he had laid out for the rest of the group.

You knew his passion for film projects, having helped him with some small YouTube ones yourself. You knew that this year, he wanted to do something to "really bring the gang back together", and you let him be when he insisted on working alone.

God, why didn't you press him on what exactly this prank entailed?

Why didn't you pick up the signs that he was off his meds?

What he enacted was horrific beyond measure--a prank that you didn't even think he was capable of carrying out.

One that seemed so real that you were almost convinced that you lost him to a murderer.

When Chris came to you sobbing in remorse over how the "Psycho" tricked him into killing your boyfriend, you didn't know what to feel. You wanted to see the body to confirm it, but given his and Ashley's reactions..it wasn't worth scarring your eyes or mind over.

It left you unbelievably sad and numb, although you were left confused when through his blubbering, he admitted that the saw blade was rigged to kill Josh despite choosing to save him.

That was the first sign that you knew something was off.

You didn't know anybody that held a massive grudge against him to the point of rigging a trap to murder him only.

But only after Josh revealed everything to Chris, Ashley, Sam, Mike, and you....that's when it all made sense.

And you felt betrayed.

You couldn't believe he'd orchestrate this whole scheme behind your back.

How could you have been so naive and trusting?

You felt like you should have known what he was up to. The others gave you suspicious looks and even Mike wondered for a moment if you were an accomplice...but you weren't.

That was the truth.

You had no idea.

Now all you felt was lingering guilt and festering anger that this was Josh's twisted idea of "revenge" against the people who didn't even kill his sisters. Against people like Chris who didn't even know what happened until he woke up.

And in a way, you felt like it was against you for not waking him up in time to stop the prank that led to Hannah and Beth running out of the cabin.

No matter how many times he claimed you had nothing to do with it, you felt like he was punishing you, too.

So now, you, Chris, and Mike have taken him away from the others, to a shed where he couldn't hurt anybody. Apparently Jess was dead, and despite his insistence that he didn't kill her....Mike didn't believe a word he said, having seen her body firsthand in some mining elevator.

Then when he started making lewd comments about Chris and Ashley, both of the men were growing agitated, debating on whether to make him shut up by force or not.

Finally, you intervened before they could decide, offering to watch over him until sunrise. You're the only one who had a small chance to talk some sense into him and make him realize his mistakes.

Mike was reluctant to leave you alone with him, thinking he'll guilt trip you into letting him go, but you convinced him and Chris you'll be fine.

There were some...scary things you've seen out in the woods earlier, and the last thing you wanna do is leave Josh alone with them nearby.

Even after all the shitty things he did, even after faking his own death...you still loved him.

You didn't believe he murdered Jess.

That's not what Josh would do.

"Your sisters wouldn't have wanted this." You quietly said, looking back at the wide-eyed man. "I wish things were different that night. I wish they didn't get humiliated. God, I wish Hannah had talked to me instead. But this...all of this was wrong, Josh. What happened doesn't justify-"

"But it worked, didn't it? Listen, I...I-I didn't want anyone dead." He stammered. "I just wanted to see that same terror on their faces. And I got them good! I got you all!!"

"...did you have to give Ash a black eye, though?"

"Look, she stabbed me with scissors! And it still hurts like a motherfucker."

You just gave him an expression that read "well I would have too if a killer was chasing me", and he seemed to understand...given how his shoulders slumped with defeat.

"Baby, 'm sorry..this...was not how our night's supposed to go. But you know what? I'm glad I was the only one laughing! Because NOW THEY KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE ON THE OTHER SIDE!!" Tears of anger pricked his eyes as his voice unexpectedly rose.

You whole body tensed, but you stayed calm, knowing he's only lashing out. "Josh, I know they hurt you. And hurting them back might feel good..but you hurt me too by faking your own death and not telling me how far you intended to take this prank."

"..you would've stopped me if I told you." He mumbled.

"Well maybe I should've been more persistent." You huffed. "If I was, we wouldn't be here. We wouldn't have to talk about why Jess died and why you seem to be the prime suspect-"

"I swear to god, it wasn't me! I don't even know where she is!" Josh snapped, before he curled up, like a child in timeout. "Mike..he wouldn't explain the wheres and whens. He just kept hitting me, pushing me..telling me to shut up...but I didn't do it...I swear. Please, please believe me, [y/n]. I'm sorry that you got roped into this. I-It's..the..the last thing I wanted.." His voice softened. "I'm sorry I've been bad..."

Slowly, you could see bits and pieces of the Josh you once knew coming back. His mind wasn't all there, of course, but you've known him forever.

You should be thinking with your brain and not your heart.

But....

You still love him, and believe in second chances.

"Joshua."

He perked up, anticipating the worst as you pulled up a chair to sit in front of him. For you to say his name like that couldn't have been good.

Maybe you were gonna side with all the rest of them and spit on him.

Maybe you were gonna say that you're leaving him alone here, as Dr. Hill had warned would happen.

Maybe you were finally going to tell him what an unforgivable monster he wa-

"I believe you're innocent. You're not one to take a life. No matter what they say." You suddenly spoke, putting a hand to his soot-coated cheek

Almost immediately, his twitching stopped, and he stared straight at you.

It's like you put him in a trance.

"I'm not gonna leave you."

"..e-even though I've been..all messed up?" He asked cautiously. "I-I mean..I haven't been a good boyfriend lately..."

"That hasn't stopped me from being there for you before." You chuckled. "We're gonna work through this. Even if it's just you and I."

"............"

"I believe you when you say you didn't kill her. Do you believe me?"

It took him a few moments to study your expression, seeing the genuine care and warmth in your eyes. Despite all the horrors you've seen tonight, there was still a spark of hope in them.

That was the light he needed.

"...I-I do..I really do." He sniffled, resting his head on your shoulder, grateful that you didn't push him away despite being covered in dirt and fake blood. "'m sorry...I-I don't deserve you."

"Oh, honey..." You put your arms around him, sighing softly as you felt him tremble against you, tears slowly dampening your jacket. At this point, you knew you got him back, and you were so relieved. "We'll figure something out. Just stay with me."

"You don't think I'm a monster..?" He asked through his sobs. "I mean, everyone treated me like one...you've seen them.."

"....I know. Neither of us can change how they feel. But listen, the only monster here is-"

All of the sudden, a shrill inhumane screech echoed from somewhere outside, deep in the woods, interrupting the tender moment between you two.

Josh sat up with a start, his tearful eyes wide and terrified as he looked to you. "Wh-What was that?"

"That's the real monster I was gonna mention. They call it the Wendigo. Hang on." Crouching down, you managed to find a small pocketknife on his toolbelt, using it to cut the ropes binding him. "It's fast. But it's blind as fuck. We need to get out of here."

Nodding, he got up as quickly as he could, having no time to rub his aching wrists as you grabbed his hand.

The shrieks became louder, forcing you two to hide further inside the shed, sticking close to the back wall where the shadows were darkest. "Shit. Don't move a muscle, okay?"

His breath hitched as the wendigo dropped down in front of the entrance, creeping inside the small building to look for prey. But he took your advice and tried staying still.

You could practically hear you own heartbeat as you held your breath, thumping louder and louder as the creature wandered around. Josh watched it scrape its claws along the wall, creating a sound most unpleasant in an attempt to make him flinch.

It then made direct eye contact with you both.

While you managed to keep perfectly still, you could hear Josh's quiet whimpers, indicating he had a much harder time considering how jittery he was earlier.

All you could do was hope and pray it would leave.

Otherwise...both of you were dead.

Just when you thought your boyfriend was going to lose it completely, the distant snapping of a branch caused the wendigo to turn at blinding speed and sprint out of the shed, returning to the surrounding woods.

"Okay...thank christ.." Letting his hand go, you took a breather, only to see that he was still standing rigid. His eyes showed nothing but pure terror, as he began mumbling something like "was it real" under his breath.

"Josh? Baby?" You shook his shoulders a bit, and he blinked several times, coming back to reality. Relief immediately crossed his face as he realized you were still here. "It's okay. It's gone."

"Tha....That thing w-was real?"

"Yes. I know how to outsmart it. But we can't stay here. We'll be safer at the lodge with the others. We just gotta keep our heads down until then."

"But..what about the-?"

"Don't worry about them. Let's worry about getting out of here, alright?"

Wordlessly, Josh nodded, practically clinging to your arm as you both headed outside and down the snowy trail. He kept mumbling incoherent things, reassuring himself that he was safe with you.

Obviously, he seemed pretty shellshocked, considering the monster he just encountered was real and not a product of his imagination.

He didn't know whether that was better or worse.

Either way, you allowed him to hold onto you, knowing he needed someone--anyone--to lean on right now. And fortunately you were exactly the person he needed.

The only one who could help him come back to his senses.

You swore to never abandon him, and you intend to keep that promise even after all that happened tonight.

You still loved him, and he loved you.

That hasn't changed.