#this is how they started fingers in his mouth Fridays

[reignpage]

The Best Kind of Remedy

Synopsis: in which your herbalist boyfriend, Geto, has just the thing to cure your ailments Warnings: smut, established relationship sex, penetrative sex, sex whilst under the influence (smoking weed), dubcon?, thigh riding, dirty talk, degradation, lots of praise, unprotected sex, creampie, handjob, brief fingering, spitting, dacryphilia, cum eating, personification of the pussay, not proofread Word Count: 3.1k

Herbalist!Geto is your boyfriend — you can always count on him to cure your ailments with a conversation, sometimes even with just a glance. He has green tea bags ready for your morning bloating, elderberry syrup for your colds, and aloe vera compress for burns, among other things.

Visits to his clinic on Friday nights are routine; you show up just as he’s closing, and he gives you a small smile when he lets you in. “Hey, was just about to text you.”

“Long day?”

Popular and well-respected, he gets customers from all over the country. They swarm to his clinic in hopes of securing a face-to-face consultation with the man himself, eating up every advice, and treasuring each prescription. He’s trustworthy, smart, observant, innovative, and so damn hot. Long hair tied at the back, broad shoulders stretching out the lab coat he wears, and smelling of something floral and earthy, you don't blame any of the girls who come in just to ogle at him.

“A little tiring but I feel energised now that you’re here.” He brushes a lock of your hair back, thumb tilting your chin up so he can get a good look at you. “You haven’t been sleeping well again?”

Herbalist!Geto shrugs off his coat, revealing a loose black shirt underneath, which rises up when he stretches out the lethargy in his bones, revealing a seductive sliver of his boxers and the sharp cut of his abs. 

“I’m exhausted but I can’t rest; I feel on edge all the time.”

He's quiet for just a second, analysing the depth of your dark circles and jittery limbs. There’s an odd glint in his eyes when he places a heavy hand on your head and says, “I might have just the thing.”

That’s how you find yourself in the backroom, sitting on his sofa next to him. He’s rolling up a joint with expert hands, sprinkling a green line across the paper, shaping it into a neat little cone. Fingers pinching the air, he rolls it back and forth, and when ready, puts it up to your lips.

“Go on, pretty girl.” A little nervous, you eye him first and he waits patiently. You lick the edge of the paper, keeping eye contact, even when brings it up to his mouth and licks exactly where you did. It’s sealed and he taps it against your lips like some kind of good luck ritual. “This is your first time, right? Well, then, you’re going to have to listen very carefully to me. Can you do that?”

You nod. 

He tuts. “Use your words, pretty.”

“I’ll listen.”

“Good girl.”

Window open, he seems at ease when he lights the spliff and takes a deep inhale, immediately slumping back into the sofa, arm thrown over the back right behind you, and legs spread so far you’re trying hard not to stare at what’s between them. “Start off with a light inhale. Just suck gently, like you’re sipping from a straw, and don’t hold it for too long. Only a second or two and then breathe out. Got it?”

Smiling, you follow his instructions. It smells earthy, like him, with a hint of something sweet. Embarrassingly, you’re coughing not even a second after you’ve inhaled — it’s dry in a way you weren’t expecting. Head falling onto his chest, his amused huff shakes you a little.

“Sorry, baby. Here, drink some water.”

Just as you’ve gulped down a whole cup of water he had prepared like he knew this would happen, you grill him about this part of him he’s been hiding. “I didn’t know you smoked weed. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Blowing a puff into the air, away from your face, he shrugs. “Always forgot. I don’t smoke too often; don’t ever want to get reliant. But I’ve been growing my own, experimenting, trying to find the best kind. I didn’t want to make you smoke anything less than perfect, after all.”

You’re leaning against his chest, too scared to reach for another puff so you settle for listening to him instead. “There are different types of weed?”

“Yeah. Different strains of weed, just like growing any kind of plant. Some people mix different things into their harvest based on preference. I’ve mixed all sorts of juices with mine. This one has a hint of strawberry — thought you might like to taste something a little more familiar.”

The air’s growing thicker and hazy. Even from one inhale, you’re already feeling more relaxed, like time’s moving slower. “Hmm, this is kinda nice. I want more but I don’t want to choke; it’s humiliating.”

Head tilting back, he pecks you on your lips, tenderly. 

“Don't be embarrassed. It's just me. Come on, I’ll blow it for you. Open for me. That’s it.” Hot air, tasting ever so slightly like strawberry and him, fills your mouth and you swallow, letting it float into your lungs. "Better?"

Nodding, you climb onto his lap, suckling on his lips, seeking more, unable to help yourself. Something is making you feel restless even though you’re slowly melting into your most relaxed self. “Sugu…I feel weird.”

Herbalist!Geto’s free hand smoothes your hair, calming you. “You’re alright, baby. I’ve got you. I had a feeling you’d get worked up.”

“The weed’s making me horny?”

A slow grin appears on his face. He tilts his head, slightly mocking, and says, “You haven’t had nearly enough to go all empty in that pretty head of yours. Look at you. You’re grinding on my thigh and you don’t even realise? That’s adorable.”

You gasp and glance down. He’s right; you’re rocking back and forth on his muscular thigh, leaving a wet trail over his cotton pants whilst your skirt pools around your hips. Senses heightened, you can’t stop, not when the friction feels so good and he’s flexing his thigh to urge you to an orgasm. 

“Hmm, I treat you to my weed and you thank me by feeling good by yourself? Maybe I should start calling you my ‘selfish girl.’ You’re making me feel all lonely here.”

An apology is muttered against his lips. Clinging onto his shirt, you use him as leverage to get into a rhythm. The haze is emboldening you and the only hint of surprise that pops up on his face is a quirk of a brow when you fish out his hard cock. It’s thick and pretty — he keeps it tidy down there and the dark pink tip makes your mouth water. Leaking pearlescent drops, you use it to lubricate his length. Then, you rub up and down in time with your grinding, keen to see his lips part and his eyes go glossy. 

“Poor baby doesn’t like cumming by herself, does she? No, of course not. But you’re already making a -hah- mess on my thigh so you might want to -ngh- pick up the pace otherwise we’ll both be very disappointed, won’t we?”

Shuddering, the corner of his mouth twitches when he feels your thumb rub his slit, running it down a bit of his foreskin. Exposing more of his sensitive skin to the air, he has to take a puff to stop himself from cumming too soon. 

Herbalist!Geto’s head is thrown back, long, slender neck looking so delectable you mouth kisses all over his skin, smiling when he groans. “I thought weed was s-supposed to make you less tense, not more mean.”

He laughs and blows the smoke right into your open mouth. “That’s a lot of —tighter, baby, rub my tip too, you know just how I like it, yeah, good girl— a lot of -hah- talk from someone who always cums hard after being treated a little mean.”

True to his words, you cum all over his leg, tightening your hold on his cock subconsciously and he grunts with the sudden pressure. 

“Ah, Suguru! Fuck, so good.”

Palming your thigh, he smiles to himself when you slump on his chest. “Got a filthy mouth on you. Should wash it out, shouldn’t I?”

You’re just about to get up and lap up his length when he stops you. 

“N-no, don’t think I can wait.” Panties pushed to the side, you embrace the fingers he slides inside your sloppy pussy, stretching your gummy walls in preparation for this cock. You’re moaning, emboldened by the curling of his fingers against a spot inside that renders you breathless. “Hmm, you’re so tight. That the weed or have I not been taking care of you recently?”

A squeal leaves your lips when he withdraws those fingers without waiting for your answer and pulls you down on his leaking length all in one go. It’s almost painful, but the smoke you’ve inhaled is dulling and heightening your senses all at once — you can’t feel the pinch of the stretch but you can feel every vein, every throb, every inch of his cock filling you up completely. 

“Sugu,” you whine, “not so suddenly.”

Herbalist!Geto chuckles. “Sorry, baby. Just couldn’t -hah fuck you’re too tight- h-help myself. You know I love feeling you stretch around me.”

Tears spring to your eyes from the stretch. He throbs inside you. Once. Twice. 

“Pretty baby crying for me? Oh, you spoil me.” Fallen tears are licked up, thoroughly hydrating and fuelling his teasings. "Once you've adjusted, get to work, alright? Want you to show me how grateful you are."

Leaning back on his wide-spread thighs, you offer him a great view of your pussy lips wrapping around his girth. There’s already a light sheen of wetness coating his length and the sight is making him lightheaded. Slowly, you begin gyrating, grinding in circles so you can get used to the ache before your thighs are pushing up and down. He shoots you a wink when he senses your growing embarrassment at just how sloppy you've gotten and so quickly. 

"Hear that? Pretty pussy's saying, 'Thank you.' Polite little thing, isn't she? She needs to be rewarded, no? So go on, ride me."

Barely been touched, and loud squelches are already coming out of your pussy, reminding you of just how well-trained your body is for him. Never wanting to disappoint him, you push your limbs to set a pace you know gets you both going. His breathy moans guide you, setting tingles all over your skin. 

Your shirt is pulled up and pressed to your mouth. You bite the hem, baring your tits to his eyes. “Missed my girls — was thinking about them -ngh- all day. S-still taste as good as they look?

He’s sucking a nipple, rolling the bud around with the tip of his tongue, flicking and suckling in rapid succession. Undeterred by your bouncing, he keeps his mouth full, groaning when you grind down on his balls. "Oh, yeah, my sweet girls."

Every bounce makes you lightheaded, dazed with pleasure. 

"Should come visit me more often. Was starting to think you hate me." He teases. 

Frantically shaking your head, you say, "N-no. I was just busy."

"Too busy for me?"

"Never."

He blows yet another puff of smoke into your mouth, enjoying the breathy mutter of gratitude that you give him. "Good. I'd be devastated if I —oh, fuck, baby, ride me faster, yeah, good girl— if I couldn't see you as often as I'd -hah- like. You know you're the only thing that keeps me going, don't you?"

"Yes, Sugu —ah, yes, yes, you're so big!"

Sucking a mark in between the valley of your breasts, he gazes at his work, licking his lips and loving the salty taste of your skin. "If I didn't love your pussy as much as I love you, I might start to get jealous over h-how much you love my -ngh!- cock."

Kisses to that gooey spot inside you by his angry cockhead has your pussy growing sloppier and sloppier until a thick creamy ring forms around his base and he can’t help but thumb it and bring it up to your lips. It’s dirty, it’s filthy, obscene, and you suck it up with no hesitation, tasting both of your juices on your tongue. 

Herbalist!Geto dives forward, smothering your moans. The earthy taste of strawberries mixes in, tongues wrapping around each other as he seeks out your taste, swallowing every drop of you. He grunts. 

Swivelling your hips, you have to pull back, gasping for air and finding nothing to bring you sanity. Your pussy’s gripping onto him like it could absorb his soul into your very being and the plap plap plap of your skin smacking against his is all you can hear. 

This is unlike your usual sex — he's usually much more controlled, much cleaner in his movements, more thoughtful in his approach. Now, you're seeking out your pleasure with no care in the world, just bouncing rhythmlessly and clumsily, slipping and sliding, moaning and whining, and he's letting you. 

It seems you're not the only one affected by the weed.

A cloud of smoke rises up from his mouth, jaw hanging from just how hot and heavenly you feel around him. You suck it in, swallowing the dry air. But then he’s pulling you back into yet another kiss, that puff being exchanged back and forth like a dirty game of tennis until it’s completely gone and you’re fuelled only by the sickly sweet taste of him. 

“Your stamina’s improved, hah. Remember your first -ngh!- first time riding me? Hmm, pretty? You could hardly last more -ah fuck! don’t squeeze down on me like that- t-than a couple bounces before you were drooling on my chest and begging me to f-fuck up into you.”

Wetly smacking back down onto his lap, your clit grinds down on his pelvis, teased and tortured. 

"Always so keen to make me feel good, aren't you?"

"Yes, yes, yess! Oh, fuck, so full. I feel so full."

Herbalist!Geto hums sardonically. "Silly girl isn't even listening to me. You say you want to be praised m-more but we both know you get wetter when you're called a dirty, little slut. My dirty, little slut."

His free hand travels down your ass, giving it a tight squeeze before he lays a not-so gentle slap against it just to feel you tighten around him. 

"Say it."

SMACK!

“Ah, Suguru! I'm your dirty, l-little slut."

You gasp. You could have sworn another vein grew on his long length, teasing your walls and catching onto your greedy pleats, desperate to keep him inside. 

Thick cock worms its way inside, forcing your walls to memorise every curve and vein on its way up and back down. He’s making shallow thrusts up, striking against your g-spot with expert skill. “Missed you so much, baby. All those customers drive me crazy — none of them follow instructions as well as you do.”

Herbalist!Geto's growing closer to a damn good orgasm; he always gets more sentimental at the brink of cumming and it's why your hips don't dare stutter as you work him again and again, taking him deeper and faster.

“I’m a -hah- good girl, that’s why, Sugu.” You grin. 

He plants a sloppy kiss on your lips, enamoured by that sparkly smile. “Hmm, you are. Always such a good girl. My best girl.”

Blunt completely forgotten about and discarded somewhere, both of his hands are clutching your body close to him. One is digging into the plush of your ass, loving the ripples of the flesh with every collision of your hips to his, and the other is groping your tit.

Hips so nasty and gluttonous, it steals grunts from him, ugly, unrefined sounds that he doesn’t care if you hear. “You’re close…I can feel it. Go on, pretty. Cum all over my c-cock. Show me -hah- how much you l-love me.”

Both of your eyes are glazed over, whether from the weed or from the waves of pleasure cresting, neither of you can tell. You just fight through the ache in your joints as you bounce faster and faster on his cock, fingers rubbing against your swollen clit, sticky and slippery. Inside, you can feel his cock stiffening, growing bigger and bigger ever so slightly and you know he’s about to burst. 

Foggy, the only thing in the room you can see is his face: bead of sweat dripping down his temple, strands of hair come loose from his bun littering his forehead, and his lips are bitten pink, matching the flush on his cheeks. He's beautiful.

“Fuck, the weed’s drying my mouth out. M-make yourself useful and -hgnh!- help me out, won’t you, baby?” Like it's been wired into your brain, a fat glob drips down from your mouth and onto his awaiting tongue before you can even process the command. Just as soon as it pools into his mouth, he’s swallowing it, eyes rolling back from the taste of you.“Such a good fucking girl. You're making me lose my goddamn mind.”

You cum first. 

Clinging onto him, you whimper, clit oversensitive from the weed coursing through your veins. There’s no rhythm to his thrusts, he’s simply chasing the pulsing of your sloppy cunt, cockhead kissing that spot inside you he loves so much before his orgasm quickly follows. 

Herbalist!Geto buries his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and painting your walls white with a flurry of hot cum. It fills your entire body, almost as if you can feel it in your lungs and when you swallow, you delude yourself into believing it's reached your throat too.

The haze still hasn’t passed — it’s making your heartbeat so damn loud and you’re just about to ask if he can hear it but he beats you to the answer by pressing a tender kiss against your pulse, murmuring, “Me too. Mine’s beating fast too.”

Neither of you takes out his cock, much too content to let it soften inside you and much too tired to care that it’s unplugging all your cum out and making an even bigger mess on his lap. 

You’re dozing off, coming down with him when he slumps back into the sofa, letting your head rest against his chest. Deeply satisfied, you mutter, “We gotta do this again.”

“The weed or the sex?” 

Herbalist!Geto’s rubbing soothing circles on your back, pulling down your shirt and keeping you close. He chuckles when he hears you say, ‘both.’

“Whatever helps you sleep, pretty. I’m always happy to be of service, even off-hours, for my favourite client but let’s keep this bonus package between us, yeah? Don't need more of those people coming in here.”

Half-asleep now, you mutter, “Just for me?”

He lays a kiss on top of your head. 

“Only you.”

[bettelaboure]

⊹The Box⊹ | Choi Seung-Hyun

fifth part in series "Course in Chemistry"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ Pairing: Choi Seung-Hyun x Reader

⊹ Warnings: sexual tension, explicit sexual content, embarrassment, mature language, peer pressure, and high school dynamics involving gossip and judgment

⊹ Summary: Y/N helps Seung-Hyun explore his sexual curiosity through an intimate and consensual encounter that begins with erotic media and leads to mutual physical exploration

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Jae-mi placed the oversized box on her front porch with a dramatic sigh, brushing her hands down the sides of her jeans as she straightened up.

 "How much do you even have in there?" you asked, squinting suspiciously at the box like it might start vibrating or emitting pheromones. It was that big.

"All the DVDs, magazines, and books that are going to sell out faster than Bible at a church book club. I’ve been posted by the door all morning, guarding the packages like a watchdog. If my mom had opened even one of them..." She shuddered theatrically.

You let out a low laugh, bending down to lift the box—and immediately questioned your life choices. "Jesus, are there bricks in here too?"

Jae-mi smirked and tugged her cardigan tighter against the sharp morning breeze. She tilted her chin at the box. "So? What’s your game plan? Any idea where you're gonna start?"

You paused. The truth? You hadn’t decided. Last night, you were too busy fantasizing about taking down Se-mi in a slow, deliciously petty unraveling of her perfectly curated little life.

That fire still simmered, but for today? You needed to be strategic. Needed certain tools. Certain people. And Choi Seung-Hyun was the centerpiece.

"...I don’t know. I’ll figure out what sparks his interest first."

She made a noise somewhere between a click and a tut and gave you that look like she was dying to say more—but held back. Good friend, that one. You pretended not to notice and grabbed your car keys from your hoodie pocket.

“Thanks again. Seriously.”

Jae-mi wiggled her brows. “No problem, my little sex demon. Now go rock this poor boy’s world—or his dick, if we’re being technical.”

You barked a laugh, flipping her off with a grin as you headed to your car. The box thudded into the trunk and, with a satisfying slam, your plan was officially in motion.

Choi Seung-Hyun’s house was quiet when you arrived. No cars in the driveway. Perfect. You hoped that meant both parents were out. 

You carried the sealed box up the front steps like you were delivering sin in cardboard form. Jae-mi had even taped it closed tight—thank god. Couldn’t have the neighbors seeing a stranger lugging a porn stash through the neighborhood like Santa’s pervy cousin.

You knocked three times, then adjusted the hem of your skirt and twirled a bit of your ponytail around your finger. Within seconds, you heard soft footsteps from inside.

Then the door opened—and there he was.

Tall. Wide-eyed. Caught off guard and looking dangerously adorable in a faded T-shirt and house slippers.

“Y/N?” Seung-Hyun blinked in disbelief. “What are you—”

“Oh, you thought ditching me Friday got you off the hook?” You didn’t wait for him to finish. You breezed past him and plopped the box onto his living room coffee table with a satisfying thud. “Nope. Nerd boy, we have a deal.”

He stood frozen in the doorway, completely lost.

“W-What are you doing here?” he stammered, eyes darting between you and the box like he thought it might explode.

“I told you,” you said, spinning on your heel to face him with hands on hips. “We. Have. A. Deal. Now, are you going to close the door, or should your neighbors get front-row seats to your sexual awakening?”

That got him. Seung-Hyun scrambled to shut the door, ears already burning pink. He fidgeted, mouth twitching like he wanted to explain something but didn’t know where to start.

“I just thought that…”

You cut him off, brow arched. “What, because I gave you your first orgasm I wouldn’t want to look at you again? Please. I’ve given plenty of boys orgasms. You’re not special.”

That clearly landed wrong. His expression twisted in embarrassment.

“I-It’s not that,” he mumbled. “It’s just… it was intense. And fast. And… messy.”

You paused, something soft blooming unexpectedly in your chest.

Poor boy.

No one had ever taught him. He’d probably been walking around thinking he was defective or weird, and now he was standing there, braving humiliation because he wanted to learn. You bit back the teasing for just a moment.

“Look,” you sighed, tugging your ponytail tighter. “I should’ve explained more. I just assumed you’d… y’know… handled yourself before.”

“I told you I’m a virgin,” he said, his tone low. “Why would I…?”

“I meant jerking off, Seung-Hyun.” You didn’t sugarcoat it.

His face turned crimson.

“Oh my god,” you said softly, piecing it together. “You haven’t. At all?”

He hesitated. His lips parted, then closed again. Then he gave a stiff little shake of his head. “No… I haven’t. I just…”

You stepped closer.

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice gentler now. “I'm not here to judge you. That’s not what this is. You’re literally helping me, remember? I’d never use this against you.”

“I’m just… scared, I guess,” he admitted, barely above a whisper.

That made your heart actually skip.

“Scared?” you echoed.

He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting awkwardly on his feet. “I mean—I know how, technically. But when I think about actually doing it, I feel… weird. Like I’m going to do it wrong. Or—ugh, never mind.”

You reached out and gently touched his wrist. “Hey. I get it. But that’s why I’m here. We’re going to ease into it. No pressure. Just… curiosity.”

His dark eyes met yours, full of hesitance but also something warm. Trusting.

You turned back to the box and sliced it open.

Inside: six erotic novels, ten DVDs, a few wrinkled magazines, a box of condoms, and—dear lord—a tub of Vaseline.

You rolled your eyes. Thanks, Jae-mi.

Seung-Hyun leaned in and saw the contents—and instantly recoiled like he’d seen a live snake. “What—what is all this?!”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t pick it,” you said, holding up your hands. “It was Jae-mi.”

He blinked. “Jae-mi? As in… Jo Jae-mi?”

“Yep. My partner in crime. Don’t worry—she’s discreet.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. I never disliked her.”

You smiled. “Good. Now.” You rummaged through the stash and picked out three items: a lightly erotic magazine, a novel with individual short stories, and a DVD labeled Solo Male: Beginners Edition.

“This is your starter pack,” you announced, setting them down in front of him.

He gawked. “You want me to…?”

“Go upstairs,” you said gently. “Look through the magazine. Read the first chapter. Watch a bit of the DVD. You don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready. Just get comfortable. Learn what feels good. Learn what interests you.”

Seung-Hyun hesitated, then slowly picked up the stack, handling it like sacred scrolls. “And I’m going… alone?”

You smiled. “Yes. You need to figure out you first before someone else joins the equation.”

He nodded, cheeks flushed, and padded up the stairs in his socks, clutching the materials like they might vanish.

The moment his door shut, you let out a long breath and planted a hand on your hip.

“Right,” you muttered. You decided to organize the rest of the box by heat level: vanilla, hot, and spicy as hell. Some of the stuff was wild—positions and combinations that made you question human anatomy.

After a while, boredom crept in, and your eyes drifted to the framed photos on the walls. Childhood Seung-Hyun: science fair ribbons, trophies, spelling bees. There were also beach photos—him with an older girl, splashing, building sandcastles. Must be his sister.

Your fingers trailed across the mantel where a dusty photo album sat. Curiosity won.

You flipped it open—and boom: baby Seung-Hyun. Round cheeks. Big, thoughtful eyes. You laughed softly to yourself, flipping pages. He looked so different now—but somehow still the same.

You were deep in a photo labeled Hye-Yoon ♥—a girl in a beret and glittery eyeshadow—when a voice made you jump.

“What are you doing?”

You snapped the album shut like it had electrocuted you. Seung-Hyun stood there, damp hair, hoodie clinging to his shoulders, sweatpants hanging low. Glasses skewed.

Wow.

“I—uh—I was just…” You mumbled. “She’s pretty.”

You shut the album, embarrassed you got caught snooping. “Sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s fine.”

You stood, brushing imaginary dust off your thighs. “So… how was it?”

He looked down, ears pinking again. “Enlightening.”

You grinned. “Enlightening?”

He nodded quickly. “A lot to take in. But… not bad.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “We doing this again?”

“If… you’re still willing.”

“Oh, I’m willing.” You smirked. “Same time tomorrow.”

He smiled—small, but real.

As you grabbed your bag and headed to the door, you paused. “You might wanna hide the box before your family gets home.”

He snorted. “Definitely.”

You gave a playful wave and stepped outside, the cool air greeting your flushed cheeks.

Progress. That’s what this was. One awkward, curious, beautiful step at a time.

You were packing your bag to head over to Choi Seung-Hyun's house, half-distracted and fully frustrated while you searched for your phone. That damn thing had a habit of disappearing the second you looked away. Today had already been a whirlwind, and there was still tutoring ahead.

Seung-Hyun had been making amazing progress with the box, steadily approaching the spicy section. Every time he returned to the living room—fresh from a cold shower, hair slightly damp and eyes bright with curiosity—you had to remind yourself to breathe. He usually left you with some work when he went off to "study," but you always ended up giving up halfway through. It usually took him a short time to return, but this time... he was taking longer.

You wandered through the house, eventually finding yourself in the kitchen.

The fridge was plastered with magnets and papers, the kind of things families collect over years and forget to take down. Cheesy souvenirs from different countries. A report card here. A toddler's drawing there. Among them were Seung-Hyun's test papers—A's and A+'s from English everywhere. You couldn’t help but smile. Even in his senior year, his mom still pinned up his grades like she was proud of her little genius.

Your eyes danced over a grocery list scribbled in different handwritings:

Apples, yogurt, milk—elegant, cursive letters. Definitely his mom.

Peas, cheese, Captain Crunch—sloppy caps. Dad, maybe.

BBQ pizza, strawberries, Cheetos—neat, sharp handwriting that screamed Seung-Hyun.

A whiteboard hung crookedly beside it:

Seung-Hyun, clean your room. Grandpa's coming tomorrow – Dad

Dad, didn’t realize Grandpa was sleeping in my room – Seung-Hyun

Dear, your father is coming next week, not tomorrow – Mom <3

You laughed quietly, your smile lingering. It all felt so intimate, like you'd stepped into a world no one else got to see.

"Do you always snoop, or is it just my house?"

You spun around, startled. There he was—Seung-Hyun, leaning against the doorframe with a casual grin, his arms crossed.

"You scared me!" You gasped.

"Did you finish the work early?"

"Yes," you lied without hesitation. "And then I got bored."

He shrugged and sauntered to the table, dropping into a chair. "How did you find it?"

"Honestly? It was... good. I finished the other two books and the DVD set you gave me," he said, scratching the back of his neck.

It still surprised you—this tall, hot, brainiac guy studying erotica and still managing to remain untouched. As if.

You pulled up a chair across from him. "Can I ask you something?"

He gave a small nod.

"Why haven’t you... done anything yet?"

He winced a little. "I never really had close guy friends to talk about this stuff with. And my dad... wasn’t around much until a couple years ago."

"Military," you said without thinking. His eyes flashed with surprise.

"The pictures on the mantle," you clarified.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You really do snoop."

You sat back and folded your arms, grinning.

"I just never had those 'locker room' talks, you know? And as I got older, I got busy. School. Life. Training. And it’s not like girls were lining up for me anyway." He looked away for a second. "I don’t like the unknown. I’d rather wait than screw something up."

You understood that too well. Not knowing was vulnerability. And vulnerability felt like weakness.

"How did you know you liked Se-mi?" you asked, your voice a little softer.

He smiled, leaning back. You’d never seen him this relaxed.

"Kindergarten. I had separation anxiety. Like, intense. I clung to my mom’s leg like a koala every day. Hated being away from her. Then this girl comes up—Se-mi—and holds out her hand. Said everything would be okay. That she’d keep me safe. And I believed her."

You grinned at the mental image. Tiny Seung-Hyun, sobbing into his mom’s jeans.

"And as we got older, she got smarter, kinder, prettier... I just kept liking her more. She’s always been around. Her mom works with mine, so I see her at the shop all the time. She was always perfect."

He looked down again, voice turning quiet.

"The day I asked her out, I had everything planned. A museum date. There’s this music section I know she’d love. Then this little café with amazing pastries. And a walk in the park after. It was stupid."

"It’s not stupid," you said. "It’s... kind of adorable."

He chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "What about you? What’s your perfect date?"

You thought for a moment. "A picnic."

His laugh was immediate. "A picnic? Really?"

"Don’t judge! Picnics are romantic. Tiny sandwiches, plastic champagne glasses, sunset views. What’s not to love?"

"And you say I overplan," he teased.

You gasped dramatically. "Shut up, nerd boy."

He grinned. "You ever been on one?"

You shook your head.

"And Jun-ho never took you? Isn’t he the ‘bad boy’ heartthrob?"

"We broke up," you said stiffly.

He looked unconvinced. "Right."

"What does it matter, anyway? Maybe someone will take me. Eventually."

"Maybe. And maybe you and I can double-date—with Se-mi. In a perfect world."

He didn’t respond right away. His smile faded as he stared down at his hands.

"What if she doesn’t like me? Like... what if she just made that excuse to let me down easy?"

Your heart tightened.

"Why would you think that?"

"No one likes me at school. I’m just the awkward guy people tolerate, you know?"

You stood slowly. Moved to him.

And without thinking, straddled his lap.

His breath hitched as you cupped his face and kissed him. Deeply. Hungrily. His hand found the small of your back and pulled you closer, the other weaving through your hair. He kissed you like he needed it—like it was the only thing anchoring him.

When he leaned in for more, you pulled back, still holding his face.

"Se-mi is going to like you."

"How do you know that?"

You brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. "Because if I can kiss you like that—me of all people, someone who’s supposed to think you’re weird and repulsive—"

"Gee, thanks."

You squished his cheeks before he could protest again. "If I can kiss you of my own free will, then Se-mi will too. What you need, Seung-Hyun, is confidence. You’re not some loser. You’re kind. Sweet. Real. When you let people see that, girls will be lining up for you."

He looked down and chuckled softly.

"What?"

"That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me."

You grinned and pinched his cheek. "Don’t get used to it, nerd boy."

The next morning, you paused at the doorway of the English classroom, hoping to slip out unnoticed like the rest of your classmates. But of course, Mr. Kim had other plans.

"I wanted to talk to you for a second."

You hesitated but walked back in, approaching Mr. Kim’s desk as he gathered up worksheets.

"Yes?" you asked, forcing patience when all you wanted was to flee to your car.

"How's the tutoring going?"

Tutoring? Oh, right. Choi Seung-Hyun. You had to remind yourself that, technically, you were helping him study. It just didn’t feel like tutoring. Not when you were introducing him to a whole new world—one far more intimate than academics.

"Yeah, it's going great," you replied smoothly. If by "great" he meant educating Seung-Hyun in the world of pleasure, then yes, absolutely great.

"Perfect. Just a heads-up, there’s a test on Monday. Thought you might want to prepare."

You forced a polite smile. You hated tests. Everyone did.

"Sounds great."

"Expecting good things, Y/N," Mr. Kim beamed.

You nodded and left, your nerves flaring. You weren’t sure why, but him asking about tutoring made you anxious. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was paranoia. Maybe it was the way you had started avoiding Seung-Hyun in public, scared he'd try to talk to you.

Did he think you were friends?

You weren’t.

You were business partners. You both needed something. You provided it for each other. Friends talk in public. Friends share memes and drinks. You didn’t do any of that with him.

Now, you were tapping your pencil against your arm, staring blankly at a wrong present-tense sentence that you had to correct. No clue how to write it. Maybe if you'd paid attention in class instead of daydreaming...

You glanced over at Seung-Hyun. He was engrossed in a book—an erotica novel, actually. One Jae-mi owned, you remembered. It was on her shelf the last time you were in her room. Did her parents know what she read? Definitely not. They thought she was an angel.

You caught the shift in Seung-Hyun's body. He stiffened, coughed to collect himself. He was clearly affected by what he was reading. Maybe you should have skimmed the books first. But then again, you'd probably have kept them.

His neck flushed red, jaw clenched. He wet his lips, ran a hand through his hair—hair that was always dry and frizzy. He'd stopped wearing his beanie around you, which made you think it had been a shield of some kind. Now he seemed more comfortable, even if his hair was a mess.

You bit your lip, watching him squirm in his chair, flipping pages with growing tension. He bit his knuckles. Yeah, he was definitely turned on. This probably happened a lot—reading, watching things, then cold showers to take the edge off.

He needed to know the kind of satisfaction he was missing.

"If I asked you to trust me, would you?" you asked suddenly.

He looked up, startled. His pupils were wide, his breath shallow.

"I... I-I guess."

"Good. Let's go upstairs."

"W-What?" he stammered, standing quickly.

"Upstairs," you repeated, walking ahead into the living room, then up the stairs. The upper floor had photos, wooden signs like the ones you'd see on American dramas: Home Is Where the Heart Is, You Call it Chaos; We Call it Family.

"Which one's your room?"

"You don't need to—"

"Which. Room."

He led you to the one on the right.

You stepped inside, surprised. His room was clean. Immaculate, even. Cream walls, dark wooden floors. Books organized. Bed made. A finished essay on the desk.

"Nice room," you whistled. He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Erm... thanks. It's a little messy."

It wasn’t. Not at all. Aside from a hoodie and a cereal bowl by his PC, it was spotless. 

"W-What are we doing up here?" he asked nervously.

You turned and leaned against the desk. "We're going to fix something."

"F-Fix what? Nothing's broken—"

You stepped closer. Inches away. His erection was painfully obvious.

"Fix your hair and show me your brown eyes," you murmured.

"I-"

"Fix. Your. Hair.."

He swallowed and obeyed.

"Get on the bed. Sit facing the TV."

He moved slowly, confusion written all over his face.

"Where's the box?"

"I-In the closet."

You pulled it out and flipped through DVDs until you found what you wanted. Grinning, you popped it into the player and navigated to the right video.

"I don’t understand what’s happening," he admitted.

"You said you’re scared to jerk off," you said gently. "We’re going to try something. If you feel uncomfortable, tell me. But I need your full trust."

A pause.

"...Okay. I trust you."

You smiled, crawling onto the bed behind him. "Watch the video."

He nodded, breath catching as the screen lit up.

A man undressed a woman on a large bed, kissing down her body. His tongue slid over her slit. Roman gasped softly.

You leaned close. "Ever think about doing that? Stroking her clit, finger-fucking her while you taste her?"

He groaned, nodding.

"Look at her tits, Seung-Hyun. You ever want to suck them? Fuck them?"

Another nod. His cock strained beneath his jeans.

"Watch her cum."

The woman moaned loudly. The man hummed against her. You could feel your own arousal soaking through.

Then the woman was on her knees, pulling the man’s pants down. She deepthroated him, humming in satisfaction.

"Ever wonder what that feels like?" you asked.

"Yes," he groaned.

"Answer me."

"Yes."

You placed a hand on his thigh, slowly rubbing over the bulge. "You're so hard," you whispered. "Look at you, baby."

"Please, Y/N," he begged.

"Please what?"

He panted, eyes glued to the screen.

"Touch me."

You smiled, brushing your lips along his neck. You unzipped him, pulling down his jeans and boxers. His cock sprang free.

"Holy shit," you whispered.

"Is... is it okay?"

"You’re huge," you murmured.

Your hand wrapped around him, pumping slowly.

"Ah, shit!" he moaned.

"Eyes open," you said firmly.

He obeyed, watching the screen.

"You like that? My hand on your cock?"

"Yes... yes, Y/N."

"Good boy," you praised. "You’re such a good boy."

You rubbed your thumb over his slit, teasing him.

"Faster. Please."

"Show me. Wrap your hand around mine."

He did, pumping faster.

"Yeah... ah, fuck yeah."

Your clit throbbed with desire. You could picture him inside you.

"Cum for me, baby."

His cry echoed through the room. He released, seed spurting, breath ragged.

You handed him a tissue, wiping your hand. He cleaned himself, glasses fogged, chest heaving.

"Fuck," he whispered.

"How was that?" you asked with a light laugh.

"Amazing," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

The two of you burst into laughter."Welcome to the world of sex, Choi Seung-Hyun," you grinned. "It is pretty amazing."

Taglist: @petersasteria @redhoodedtoad @mirahyun @sherrayyyyy @sherxoo @dilfismz @breakmeoff @janie-osuih @forevervibezzzz1 @kuinnoa @juliskopf @maskedcrawford @szonyix6277@ldydeath

Series taglist: @1950schick @zaaraaax0 @tabibabib @sofiaaaah

[incorrect-stobotnik]

Stone: My hands are cold.

Robotnik, rolling his eyes: Here, hold my hand.

Stone: My lips are cold too.

Robotnik: *covers Stone's mouth with their hand*

[hoshigray]

˙⋆✮ FIRST PERSON SQUIRTER.ᐣ.ᐟ ✮⋆˙ | jjk men

꩜ᯅ꩜ choso, nanami, gojo, geto, sukuna & toji × how they deal with a squirter!?

contents: JJK men x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size differences (true form! kuna) - kissing/making out - thigh-riding - [anal] fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! + m! receiving) - sqůirtǐng (ofc) - facesitting - Daddy kink - 69 + doggy style + full nelson positions - overstimulation - clitoral play (grinding + swiping + pinching) - praising - cervix fucking - pet names (angel, baby, cutiepie, good girl, little thing, etc.) - degradation + humiliation - mention of blood and drool/spit.

word count: 5.3k

a. note: goin on a trip next week, so i leave y'all with this until the next one ☆ enjoy !!

ᯓ꩜ Chōsō Kamo

You giggled. “You ready, baby?”

He smiles back. “Bring it on, sweetheart.”

Having a partner willing to try new things with you is undoubtedly a blessing. Wouldn’t you want to try anything and everything with your partner—learning new things and sharing experiences with the person you love and cherish the most in this globe? 

It adds to your trust in one another – an exchange enhances the companionship…even if it’s in the bedroom!

“Okay, Choso, get ready.”

Your boyfriend nods from below you, watching from between your thighs as you descend your lower half where his face is, and the two of you moan once the lips of your labia land on his awaiting tongue.

This was all your idea, by the way: you’re the one who pulled on Choso’s shirt as you two watched the television from his bed, his caramel eyes drifting to you after grabbing his attention. It was difficult to ask at first, stumbling with your words as this embarrassing request isn’t something you make regularly. Once you got your words out, it wasn’t surprising to see your boyfriend a little flustered as you were. 

However, that didn’t stop him from accepting it – albeit bashfully – confidently, igniting a colossal quirk of happiness to affect the glow of his bedroom. So, here you two are, putting this new experience to the test. 

“Mmmm, oh God,” you purr with chewed lips, fighting the urge to swing your hips as Choso mouths you. 

Choso has his hips on your waist to keep you steady as he does his work, using his lips and tongue to please you in this new position. His tongue swims around your inner labia, the folds coated with your wetness mixed with his saliva. You exhale through your nostrils, your thighs sluggishly move to have your man attend to the surface, and you mewl at the flick of your clitoris. Oh shiiit…!

Having you on top of him like this was not something the brunet expected, thinking this would be a lazy day to hang out with his cute companion on this slow Friday. However, to have easy access to taste your fluids within his vicinity in this erotic position...he’s starting to like it a little too much. 

“Ohhh, my God, Choso,” you shrill with a gasp. “You’re so good…Feel so good.”

“Yeah, baby?” He questions below your waist, poking your clit with his tongue. “You like riding my face?” 

He can’t see it, but you nod impetuously. “Yessss! Yees—Shhaaah! Fuck, your tongue…!” You lick your lips and bite as you bring your waist lower, his nose bumping on your clit. “More, give me moreee…!”

“Heh, sure thing,” he titters at your enthusiasm as his hands curl to your buttocks, bringing you further down to his level. You whimper as he sucks on your vulva with purpose, lapping his tongue around to tease your entrance before he pushes it in. Here is where Choso changes the atmosphere, fucking you with his tongue and collecting more of your essence to drink. All you can do is wail and swing your hips faster, and your boyfriend quickly catches the rhythm. Shit, tastes so good…!

“Uhhgg, feels so fucking good—Mmmaa!” Holy hell, this was too much! There’s so much going on underneath you outside your control, only having the command of your waist to influence. Your thighs jiggle as you resort to bouncing on your boyfriend’s face, and your hands ball on the comforter the two of you lay on. 

Choso’s tongue goes frantic, wiggling the wet muscle around your insides and pulling you in to sink more into your overwhelming taste and smell. The more you bounce on his face, the more his nose hits your clitoris, your bud sending shocks up to your head to enlighten the exhilaration! Faster and faster you go, the same for the tongue lapping all over your vulva and sucking on you purposely. 

“Choso..!! Cho—shiiiit—Chosooo!!” You cry out with trenched brows and closed eyes, electric shocks spiraling all over your body with all the growing pressure. 

Your body then gives in, and you let your essence out of your system. Your fluids shower all over Choso’s face as you come on his tongue; your boyfriend is not swayed by the liquid hitting his face, just focused on slurping your wetness covering your cunt. Quivers force your thighs to jolt, jerking your whole frame as you let the waves of your orgasm hit until everything relaxes.

And when it does, you sigh heavily and lift your ass. Choso watches the sight before him, his spit blended with your come all within your inner thighs. The heat from his face spreads to his ears — oh, he hopes he doesn’t get addicted to this.

“Oh my God, Choso,” your boyfriend snaps to your call. “Your face, it’s all wet!”

“Hm? Oh!” It takes a second to realize that he is utterly drenched with your satisfaction, scoffing with a smile. “Guess we both got a bit too excited.”

You chuckle as you leave to grab a hand towel from his bathroom. “I’m sorry about that!”

“It’s okay,” Choso takes off his shirt, which was damp on his collar, and accepts the towel you give him. “As long as you’re feeling good up there, I don’t mind drowning a bit for you, sweetie.”

You shake your head with a smile. “You’re not funny.”

ᯓ꩜ Nanami Kento

Nothing puts the cherry on top of a hard day at work for Nanami than coming home and being pulled into your arms.

“Nnnmm, Kento, you feel so good…”

…And loving on him more affectionately.

You practically dragged your man into the living room, peppering him with smooches in your glee that he had returned home safe and sound, and he chortles as you beckon him to sit on the couch with you. The two of you winding down while watching the television, Nanami relaxing with a nice cold beer and taking off his necktie and blazer.

However, he’s unaware of you glimpsing through your peripheral, looking intently, sliding his tie off his collar and unbuttoning his shirt. You notice the sneak of his exposed collarbone, drifting your gaze to something else only for it to land on his pants. Lips flatten at the sight of his thighs; his hand patting on it makes you stare longer than intended, swallowing thickly to quench a dry throat. 

He was taking a swig of his beer, watching the motion of his Adam’s apple with intent. Your fingers fiddling with the bottom of your sundress can’t jurisdiction your thoughts anymore, wanton desires stacking up and soon to fall like dominoes. 

And when it does fall, you silently stand and walk in front of Nanami, the blonde noticing you come around to obstruct his view of the TV. “My love?” You don’t answer. “Something’s wrong?” No words yet…but you lift your dress, mocha eyes pinpointing to the cute design of your cotton thong. “Sweetheart…” you move to sit again, but not back on the couch—nope—instead, his pant-clad thigh, straddling the firm muscles, and your arms come around to cup his cheeks.

“Kento,” you finally speak, whispering for only his words to pick up. “I missed you.”

If there was one thing that could pull Nanami’s heartstrings, it was you – his pretty wife. So, when you express your love for him, of course, he has to reciprocate tenfold.

“Ooooo, yesss, Ken…please, go faster…Mmmph.”

You stay atop Nanami’s thigh, grinding your labia on his pants to the point that a damp spot is prominent in the tan color. The blonde doesn’t seem to mind, though, as he’s the one who slid your thong for his fore and middle finger to swipe on your clitoris. The touch is pleasant, fueling your waist to keep moving. With your back to his chest, he kisses you passionately from behind. Your sweet tongue meets his, influenced by the taste of alcohol, a strange combination that surprisingly gets the kiss steamier. 

Nanami chews on your bottom lip, having you whimper so sublimely that shivers crawl his spine, sucking on your tongue as your hips go faster. Jesus Christ, the friction from grinding on the material of his pants feels so good, nestling in between your folds nicely and faintly bumping on your clit. However, that is for your husband’s fingers, tweaking the bud you perk to your tippy toes. Hahhh, so good!

“Mmmm, shit,” the golden-haired man curses under his breath before taking your lips into his again. “Come here, angel.” He slams his lips to yours, and you don’t plan to leave his taste as you throw your head back. One arm lifts your legs by the knees, the free hand having more access for him to stick his middle finger into your wetness.

You moan into his mouth, allowing your husband to please you with his fingers rubbing your inner texture. It starts slow until he adds the ring finger, dialing the pace for his fingertips to scratch onto places you could never reach. A hand finds his hair, his neat locks now getting disheveled because of you. 

“Puhaah, ohhh, shit!” You shrill with puffy lips while Nanami kisses your cheek and chin, all the while his digits are brushing up on the upper wall of your vagina — you almost lose balance. “I’m close…!”

The magic words let Nanami know to keep doing what he’s doing, sucking the skin of your neck while shoving his fingers until his very knuckles. The clamp of your walls is sensational, addicting to the point that he doesn’t want to get his digits out yet — not until your high comes to an end.

And that doesn’t sound impossible; you scream as if you don’t have neighbors between your apartment, a watery liquid ejecting out of your glands and showering all around. Sprinkles of your clear juices hit the palm of Nanami’s hand and thigh, adding more stains to his pants to worry about.

 Your heaving body slowly relaxes as your orgasm rattles your bones, Nanami laying more pecs on your beautiful skin as he permits your quaking legs to touch the floor again. Yet, you jerk when your toes feel something wet, snapping out of your daze and realizing what a show you made.

“O-Oh, my—“ you try to stand, but Nanami’s quick to catch you as your body is still under the shocks of your crescendo. “Ugh, I’m sorry, Kento, I messed up your work clothes.”

“No worries, I need to do laundry tomorrow anyway.” The blonde chuckles to your ear and kisses you again, massaging your waist. 

“In that case…would you mind if I dirty your clothes some more?” Your butt presses up on the tent of his groin — which has been getting firmer and firmer once the man stuffed his fingers in you. “I’m sure you’d get some fun out of it.”

He raises a sandy brow with a smile. “Would I, or would you, since you’re the one who came onto me?”

“…A bit of both.” You both share a laugh as Nanami carries you bridally to the bedroom.

“Then I don’t mind at all.”

ᯓ꩜ Gojō Satoru

“Mmmm, can never get over this view~.”

“Can you stop commenting about it?!”

“Whaaat? I can’t say I admire my cutie’s beautiful ass in front of me?”

“You’re so annoying…” you grumble as you sigh and begin to lick the tip of his cock.

It’s been a while since you and Gojo had a good 69 session. He is busy being the strongest sorcerer of the modern era and being a full-time teacher, and you go through your day-to-day life swarmed up with work and routine. Lack of time to spend together is an onerous task to execute outside of sleeping and snoring in your shared bed.

But alas, when you two are finally resting and enjoying each other’s company this weekend, it’s a no-brainer that you two will end up skin-to-skin action sometime today. 

You straddled atop Gojo, your ass facing him while his lower half was to your front, your hand stroking his length cock, following the curve up to the pink tippy top. The sight of precum starting to pool and spill over down your fingertips makes your cheeks hot, and the heat between your legs causes a twitch.

Gojo, however, grins before he kisses your labia, welcoming his tongue that invades the space between your folds. You moan as you stuff your mouth with his cockhead, treating him with peppered licks and sucks as you keep jerking him off. Fucking hell, his dick is just so lengthy, hitting the back of your throat with ease that you have to remind yourself to relax to not gag.

Lazy licks are dawned on your wet chasm, lapping from the clit up to the other end. He notices the subtle quakes of your thighs as he tongues you down and has him chuckle as he pushes his face into your frame more, his hands curling to cup your ass so he can fondle the flesh.

You mumble on his dick after he flicks your clit. “Mmmph…! Hmmmm…” Sucking on his shaft, you bob your head up and down to get accustomed to the limb. Climbing back up to the tip where you suck on it roughly with hallowed cheeks after drizzling it with saliva. 

“Oh shiiit,” the white-haired man’s head hits the headboard of his bed, moaning at the attention you’re giving his cock. “So good at this, angel,” he coos as his hands curl to the front to massage and lightly pat your asscheeks like drums. “Missed this.”

“Mmmm, mmmahh…!” The tip leaves your lips, and you’re quick to keep stroking him as you lick around his crown. “Fuck, so big…”

“Well, thank you, baby,” he knows you’re probably rolling your eyes at that comment, chortling to himself. “Means a lot hearing that from someone who keeps winking at me over here.”

“Pfft, you’re so gross,” you top his cockhead to the flat of your tongue, blowing on it to make your tall partner shiver under you. “So full of yourself.”

“Mmmm, maybe so,” you whine as Gojo blows and sucks on your inner labia. “But you can’t blame me for that, right?”

“What…ever,” your feet come around and pulls his face back to your ass. “Just shut up and use that tongue—since you’re so confident.”

“Heh, so pushy.” But the thing is, Gojo is confident – narcissistically so. You saying that only probed him to flip a switch, and you’re unfortunately on the receiving end of his wrath. 

Gojo’s tongue goes erratic, swishing around your vulva as if you can’t keep up with one lap after the other. Your waist goes to lift your ass away — fat chance, as his hands return behind your butt to keep you on him the entire time. The vibrations of his humorful laugh are felt in the very nerves of your folds.

You whimper aloud, the hand jerking his cock, straying off its rhythm as your body submits to the pleasure going around your lower half. He inserts his tongue into your opening, fucking your slit with pushes and pulls. He sucks your wetness with his mouth, and the hands placed on your ass grip on the flesh that has you standing on your very palms.

“—Khhh..! W-Wait, Satoruu, stop!” You cry, but the tall man only smacks your ass mischievously, having you clamping on his tongue without your conscience. “I-I said waaait!!” No signs of waiting as he stuffs his face further between your thighs; noises of him slurping your vulva sound so wrong!

Oh, my fucking God! Your legs tremble, a sign that you’re trying everything you can to alleviate. However, Gojo’s grip on you doesn’t make it an easy battle, latching onto you with vigor. No, wait, wait, stop i—“Ahaa—ahhhnn!!”

It’s no use; the fluid you release slips past your control, spraying out of the urethra and showering all over your thighs and Gojo’s lower jaw and neck. Your body yields, losing balance and slumping your whole body on top of your boyfriend as you come on his tongue and drizzle all around the space of your lower half. Shocks and quivers travel up your spine to your head to pound, leaving Gojo to keep lapping and swishing on your wet slit in victory. 

“Mmmm, aahhhshit, so good…!” He blinks with hooded eyes as he licks his lips and spits on your vagina to lick slowly. “Taste so good…”

“Hahhh, ahhh, I..I told you to,” you stand on your elbows and look behind. “To…wait, dummy!”

“You told me to shut and use my tongue!” He backfires, not relenting even after sending your half-lidded glare. You groan and turn back to suck on his pink tip in defeat. “Fuck, love it when you’re all wet like this…and lucky me for being in the splash zone as you—Oww!”

You smack on his nuts. “You’re so annoying!”

ᯓ꩜ Getō Suguru

“Suguruuu…! Don’t do th–Ahhht!”

“Ahhhh, you sound so cute, baby.”

Geto plows you from behind, watching you grip the armrest of the couch as your butt is propped up and your face buried to hide yourself…Quite a futile attempt, if he says so himself, but adorable nonetheless. 

Fucking in the living room wasn’t part of the daily routine today, yet here you two are. His hands grab hold of your waist as he conceals his girthy cock inside your tight cunt, stuffing every inch of him till the very hilt meets the lips of your outer lips. 

Your breath is shaky as Geto’s hips move to and fro, sighing at the sensation of your tensed walls around him. You always felt way too fucking good, biting his lip to fight the urge to let his waist fly and piston himself right into you. And he enjoys the way you act as he teases you, the position giving him ideas on how to torment you idly. 

Like now, as he skims a thumb around your asshole. The action of having you contract on him even more. “Nnnn! Nnooooh, don’t play with my ass…!”

“You sure? It’s been winking at me for a minute.” He chimes with a sly smile, licking his finger and switching his thumb to lather your hole with his saliva. Holy shit, the way you’re twitching around him is driving him nuts, as he hasn’t even put anything in yet. 

“Do-Don’t say it like that!” You peer over your shoulder with furrowed brows, meeting the purple eyes that catch you. His hips go excruciatingly slow, your vagina feeling like a void as he pulls for absence before fulling you back as he pushes. “It’s em…barrassin—Ghhhh!”

He pushes the thumb inside while you’re distracted, and both your holes pucker in haste. “Awww, don’t be like that, my love,” his mellow voice doesn’t match the crudeness of his actions, throwing unpredictable snaps of his hips to throw you off. “Nothing about your body is embarrassing….God, your ass looks so sexy from the back—“

Another twitch of your slit—God, you’re too fucking cute. “What are you—Don’t say stuff like that…!” Your flustered reaction didn’t make it any better as Geto pushed his thumb inside until the dent and knuckle, wiggling it inside and pushing and pulling to toy with your rear. Your teeth clench onto the couch pillow while he increases the cadence of his ruts. “Mmmmm, ohmyGod…Suguu, please—“

“Hmm, you want me to stop?” He asks and observes for a cue to stop what he’s doing. You don’t say anything, though, just your hips swaying. It makes Geto scoff, “I get the feeling you don’t want me to; look at you moving your hips on your own, pumpkin. Your body’s so honest for me.”

“Haaahh, you’re soo…mean, Sugu…”

“Only when I know it makes you feel good,” he moves his bangs out for a bit. “Which is why,” then Geto slithers that same hand down to where your chasm is linked to his wet cock, and his fingers go erratically fast on your clit. “I wanna tease this a bit, too.”

Eyes widen as you shriek at the touch, moaning aloud once he removes his thumb from your ass to keep your butt onto him as he jackhammers his cock into you. Your frame is propelled with every push, the pokes on of your cervix knock you out like the wind, and the hard rubs on your clit have you seeing stars.

“—Ohhooo, oh–hoooo!! Sug’ruuu, waaiitt!!” It’s useless; he doesn’t stop, and more hits to your womb have you wailing uncontrollably. The fingers on your clit don’t let you rest, having you unable to speak a proper sentence and resort to letting your boyfriend pound into you. A few more pinches have your legs jerking, and you can’t help but let the wave smash onto you.

As your orgasm claims over your body, you squirt out, liquids falling onto the couch beneath you, point blank. Your eyes are sewn shut as your slit flutters on Geto’s penis, your substance leaking out of your glans and dirtying your thighs and legs. Oh God, no!!

Geto hisses at the feeling of you spasming on him, tilting his head to see what you’ve done. “Oh my, would’ya look at that~.”

“Shooop, don’t loook…!!” A hand moves to the side to “try” and stop him, but he catches it with his palm, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Don’t look at iiiit…”

“But you did so well!” Geto kisses your hand. “Maybe I should play with your ass more—“

“Suguru, stop!”

“Kidding~,” he was not.

ᯓ꩜ Ryōmen Sukuna

Sukuna relishes the feeling of you like this — your back to his front, your legs held up by his solid upper arms while the lower hands hold your buttocks, and your holes accommodating to his two girthy cocks — like the good pet you are. 

He entirely suspends you, your entire frame contorted for your arms to grip the futon sheets below. Sweat and warmth are exchanged by bare skin, the glow of the candles highlights the unioned figures within Sukuna’s quarters, and your anus and vagina are full of nothing but the two cocks stretching you and rubbing your insides.

Sukuna bucks his hips with might, and his every push makes you dizzy. Toes curl as your ass is pulled up and down to meet his hefty balls, his dicks venturing further to torture your insides with satisfaction. Your vision gets a bit hazy as the heat gets to your head, and your head begins to pound.

“What’s wrong, little thing,” your lips flatten to hinder the moan wanting to escape as he speaks behind you, feeling his breath brush the hairs of your back. “You’re silent this time around.”

“Haaaah, my Lord…” The tongue of his stomach licks your lower back with a lazy kiss. “Y-You’re…too biiig.”

He hits you with a sudden rut and purrs at the clench of your entrances. “You say that, yet your lewd body seems to accustom pretty well.” Another hit of his hips causes the tips of his cock to brush up against your sweet spots effortlessly, and you finally unclench your lips to let a wail escape. “Your body only good for taking cocks like a real good whore, huh?”

“I’m so—Mmmph…! S-Shooo fuuuull…” 

“No, you’re not,” he snickers as his lower left-hand sneaks around to cusp your clitoris, your precious pearl engulfed by the sheer thickness of his digits. “Not until I fill you with my seed like a sow in heat.”

The salmon-haired man picks up the pace to drill his cocks, churning your vagina and rear like toys. Your cries fly out quickly at the point, puffy lips losing ground to stay locked. Hands balled into fists as you’re threatened by the sheer mass of Sukuna, unable to fight out of this—forced to submit to him and his persistence.

Your slit and butt are so busy with his cocks, the length of your vagina grazing your G-spot by its underside, the walls fluttering involuntarily around him. The dick inside your butt feels so utterly good; the size of him is never something you can get fully habituated to. And the hand on your clit doesn’t stop playing with it, roughly pushing and grinding on it to the point of babbling and choking on spit. 

“—Hnnngh, fuck. So tight,” Sukuna licks your back and nibbles on your skin, teasing to tear your skin to taste just a hint of blood. “Feel so good…”

“Ahahhh, I caaan’t…!” Your eyes begin to water as you shut them close, lack of vision enhancing the sense of touch where it has your nerves overly stimulated. Everything is happening all at once, and you can sense the climb once the tip hits your womb. “I can’t do iiit! You’re gonna break meee!!”

“Keheh, wouldn’t be the first time.” It’s probably for the best because you can’t see the smug-ass grin on his oddly comely face. More kisses are placed on your back. “Shut up and take it, dove,” he commands you, not leaving you any room to retaliate as his thrusts increase without warning. 

Your mouth is agape, and your cries are unwillingly bouncing around the shoji-paneled walls. A bit of spit comes down your lips, your hands only finding Sukuna’s waist for your nails to dig into. The grumble of his stomach traversing to your core to rumble with the vibrations. Oh, God, noo!! You can feel it – the worse of the worse. Just when you thought your humiliation wasn’t enough at this moment, it was about to skyrocket in three…two…one.

Feverish ruts to your ass, have the reins slip out of your hold, all the restraint in your body withering with every harsh push and pull. Your head pounds like crazy, nothing but a blur can be seen in your eyes, and the clear substance expels out of your urethra, leaving out of your system along with your dignity. 

And Sukuna doesn’t have to see it to believe it, grinning from ear to ear as he playfully smacks on your vulva to create more of a mess. The watered-down liquid sprayed out to his thighs and the futon sheets and sticking to your inner thighs and sliding down the crack of your ass. Tiny pinches to your clit help you jerk out more to ruin yourself, your body losing strength entirely and letting the cursed man keep you in your distorted position. 

“Hmph, what a bad little toy,” he criticizes you like always, the tears beckoning to leave your watery eyes. “Look at you causing a mess on my bedding; who told you to do that?”

“I’m sorry, Lord Sukuna,” your expression borderline fucked out, yet the embarrassment keeps you humble. “Forgive me…my Lord.”

Sukuna slaps onto your clit with his palm; you pucker onto his girths immediately. “You dare ask for forgiveness after the fact—I should just throw you out in the cold with these wet sheets you’ve caused.”

“N-Nooo! I’m so sorry!!” Fuck, he loves it when you plead, so desperate for his word, his submissive and breakable dove. “Pleaseee, fill me up with your seed, and I will clean it up…! I-I won’t do it again…”

“Says who?” He finally lets your legs go briefly before he spreads them over with his lower arms. His upper hands find your chest to grope. “You’ve stained my sheets with your essence; you aren’t sleeping anywhere else tonight except here with me in this exact puddle you made for yourself, you dirty pet. Am I clear?”

His final words have your skin crawl as he nibbles on your nape, and you nod.

“Good.”

ᯓ꩜ Fushiguro Tōji

“Gahhh!! Ahhhhh!!”

“Yeah, baby, that’s it; keep clenchin’.”

Toji’s fingers are stuffed inside you, stretching your poor hole with pushes and pulls that take your breath away with ease—quite literally as your arms come around his neck to keep him close.

His bedroom is filled with nothing but you: your shorts and panties decorating his bedroom floor, the smell of your lotion on your now-sweaty skin intoxicating his senses, and your damp towel laid underneath you as you lie on your back.

Toji sits right beside you, near as you keep him from leaving. Not that he planned to — of course not. When he has his ring and middle finger shoved inside your vagina and grazing your inner skin with a mediocre pace, there’s no way the older man would want to stop now. Fuck, he loved how tight your cunt was, so snug to the touch and tender to his fingertips. It drove him crazy, just like you always make him. He can never get tired of you, honestly. 

“Hahhhh, Tojiii, ahhaaa…” Your whimpers get louder and louder by the second, and your back jerks to the blunt of his fingertips, poking deep inside your chasm. “Gooohh, ohhhshit…!”

“Yeah, sweetie?” His forehead touches yours, skin-on-skin increasing intimacy. “Ya like it when I fuck you wit’ my fingers, huh?” You answer with a whine as he slows his digits down, teasing the walls of your entrance while pressing on your clit with his thumb. He scoffs, “So nice and tight fr’ me, huh…”

“Ahhhh..! Bu–But I just…finished taking a showerrr!!” You wail with pleading hooded eyes that are instantly locked with intense viridian ones. “You’re making me—mmm!—dirty again…!”

He raises a brow. “That doesn’t mean anythin’ to me,” more push to your clitoris causes your body to jolt closer to Toji, and he sneers. “Getting all ready and clean fr’ me, what a good girl…all the more fun fr’ Daddy to make ya all dirty and cryin’ all over again.”

A hand grips his shoulder, exposed by his black wife-beater. “Pleasee, Daddy, it’s too—Aghahh!” He sneaks his fingers back inside knuckle-deep; the deep chuckle you hear from him causes your ears to melt. 

“C’mon, mama, I know you have it in ya,” he coos with a kiss to your forehead that has you dissolve under his scarred lips. “Wring my fingers up, make a mess fr’ me.”

Another kiss to your forehead makes you whine, the gentle atmosphere only lasting for mere seconds before the pace of his hand returns to a rhythm that has you screaming instantly. Jesus Christ, those thick fingers are no joke, the stretch enough to overwhelm your senses, along with how deep they reach inside. 

Every push to your cunt has you breathless, and every dig is knuckles-deep and too fast to catch up with one after the other. “Ohoooo, D-Daddyyy, n-nooo!” Yet there’s no point in begging now—once Toji is deadset on something, it’s challenging to swade him off. Especially when it comes to you, his little sweet thing… “I’m gonna—ohfuuck!—I’m so clooose…!”

Your words only egg Toji on to keep fingering you as much as he can, ravaging your delicate insides with his hand alone. He purchases his face to your neck, sighing deeply at the alluring whiff of your lotion. He licks your skin before a kiss, and the pace between your legs becomes unforgivingly faster.

Eyes roll up to the ceiling as your body shuts down without your knowledge, completely taken aback by the climax that clenches around the thickness of Toji’s fingers. Also, the water liquid is excreting projectively from the continuous knock-kneed-worthy pleasure. You let loose with a howl, your back arching with every subtle buck of your hips. 

Toji looks down with a salacious grin, taking in the sight of you spraying all over his bed. The towel is doing nothing but getting damper because of you, and he can only chortle at the sight and, lowkey, thank his intuition for wearing a wife-beater so you can coat his forearm. Dazed with euphoria, your body slumps down to the sheets, sweaty and sticky from the excretions and panting heavily. So much for a shower, huh?

Toji whistles and courses his free hand atop your head while besmearing your vulva with your juices. “Good girl, mama, good fuckin’ girl.”

© HOSHIGRAY2024 ✮ reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ header art by hyocorou + dividers by @cafekitsune.

[thinkinonsense]

Sit Still｡𖦹°‧

—gif credit: not mine!! i can't remember where i found it but if i can find it again or the owner comments, ill add their username <3

logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: cockwarming (sorta?), innocence kink, p in v, logan attempts to teach reader how to ride.

a/n: apologies for this being so short but chapter two of bewitched should be out friday or saturday! also i'll be responding to some requests soon too in case i spam lmao

"a-are you sure 'bout this, lo?"

your timid voice echos around the bedroom, capturing logan's attention again. he's been dreaming for months of this sight in front of him; you sitting pretty in his lap, only wearing a pink lacy bra and a pair of matching panties.

"you want me to make you feel good, right sweetheart?"

a small sigh escapes you as you attempt to grind onto him again. logan places his large hands on your waist to stop you from wiggling around. he knows you can't help it, you're still new to this after all.

it started a month ago when you and logan were left alone together in the mansion. everyone was on a field trip a couple hours away. you were recovering from a cold and logan simply didn't want to chaperone. instead, he offered to stay back with you.

late one evening, he came in to check on you and ask if there was anything you needed. that's when you asked him the question that nearly killed him, 'will you take my virginity?' you didn't see a problem with it. the two of you weren't strangers, you trusted logan, and he obviously has experience since he's much older than you.

ever since that night, you two have been going at it like rabbits. tonight, logan promised to help you get used to being on top. more importantly, training you to take him from this angle.

"c'mon, baby..." he coos with one hand on your hip and the other holding a cigar to his lips. "do it just like i told ya'."

swiftly, logan removes the rest of the material between the two of you before resting back against the mattress. anxiously, you line him up to your entrance and slowly sink down until you're sat fully on his lap again.

"nice 'n slow for me, sweetheart. that's it, stay still..." logan hums, lost in your tight, wet heat. he can hear every little noise coming from your lips. "atta girl."

it's a struggle to take all of him at once. you can feel him deep in your gut, nudging that sweet spot inside of you. logan can tell that your nerves are still tangled in knots, practically strangling his cock.

"lo, i c-can't do it." you huff, upset at yourself. "too full to move."

"poor fuckin' baby." logan teases with faux sympathy. "how 'bout we try something else for now?"

too caught up with the soft grind of his hips, you nod your head mindlessly to his proposal. logan brings his thumb to his lips, replacing the cigar which is now back on the nightstand. he sits up, making you whimper as he does so. you lean forward to capture his lips with your own, whispering how badly you needed him to just fuck you himself. instead, logan's got something else in mind.

"ah!" you gasp as he starts to rub your button with the wet pad of thumb. "f-fuck, right there..."

the soft rocking of your hips makes your toes curl and fingers pull at his little kitten tuffs. logan's mouth moves south to your chest. one nipple in his mouth then the other until both are swollen and kiss bitten. vibrations pour from his mouth as he groans at the tight squeezing of your cunt around his girth.

"ah-ah." he tsks, hand coming up to grip your jaw, pinching your cheeks together gently. "what did i say 'bout staying still?"

"s-sorry, lo.." you whimper voice muffled by your squished pouty lips.

despite having incredible stamina, logan was ready to release just from looking at your pretty face. he never been this close to cumming so soon but feeling you tense around him and wiggle in his lap made his head spin. all of this movement from only his thumb drawing circles.

"christ..." he grunts in your ear, moving faster now and with more pressure. "you're tryin' a kill me, sweetheart."

all logan gets in response is incoherent babbles of 'don't stop' and 'please, please, please'. he knows you are close when you claw at his back and start to bounce on him little by little, just enough to make you see stars. it all feels too much yet not enough at the same time. logan's circles start to get sloppy as he approaches his high too.

"l-logan!" you squeal, heavy eyes trying to focus on his face. "wanna feel you..."

in a rush, logan picks up the pace, torturing your button with his thumb. a loud moan falls from your lips, trying to wiggle out of logan's grip as your orgasm washes over you with intense euphoria. logan growls in your neck from your tight fucking grip on his cock, pumping his load inside of your walls. some of it spilling out of you and drenching the sheets.

the two of you catch your breath in silence for a moment. your nails scratch his scalp softly while logan pulls you down to kiss him. after a second, you move back, smiling down at him in a way that makes him harden again.

"thought you were gonna show me how to ride?" you tease.

logan shoots you a cocky eyebrow raise before leaning back again, one hand on your hip and the other returning to his cigar on the night stand.

"alright, baby..." he chuckles, re-lighting the cigar and paying little attention to the roll of your hips. "let me see what you got."

[thepencilnerd]

seeing double

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader x michael "robby" robinavitch summary: A night out with two of your closest colleagues turns into something you never expected—or did you? Between cocktails, dancing, and old tension, the line between friendship and something more finally blurs. warnings/content: nsfw | 18+ MDNI, porn with a whisper of plot, pining, threesome (m/f/m), p in v + oral sex (m&f receiving), jack and robby are both soft/pleasure doms, protective/possessive/jealous tendencies, praise kink, no condoms but IUD use, domestic fluff, banter wc: 10k a/n: wine drunk alone on a friday night + one very rare instance of dreaming = this monstrosity, excuse any mistakes, not religious but i will pray for forgiveness for i have sinned because jfc—

It started like any other post-shift outing: exhausted, half-delirious, desperate for something that didn't smell like ammonia.

Robby had slung his arm around your shoulders the second you walked out of the ER, pulling you toward Jack with a bright grin. "First round's on me. Hell, second round too if you both promise not to ditch me for charting."

Jack had just smirked, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "We'll see how intolerable you get after two shots."

It wasn't always like this—the three of you tangled together like gravity and inevitability. When you first joined day shift, it was Robby you bonded with. Quick jokes in the trauma bay, quiet coffee runs between codes, the kind of easy camaraderie that came from surviving the same battlefield night after night. His touches had started out friendly—a pat on your shoulder after a long shift, a gentle squeeze on the same shoulder when you nailed a tricky procedure—but over time, the air between you shifted.

Every glance lingered longer. Every touch sparked hotter.

Robby's hand on your lower back when you squeezed past him in the supply room, the way he’d always seem to find reasons to stand just a little too close, his thumb brushing yours when you handed him charts—it all built slowly, unbearably. You’d catch him staring sometimes, his round, dark-rimmed frames lingering a second too long on your mouth or the curve of your neck before he’d grin and deflect with a joke.

There was the night after a particularly brutal trauma when Robby had tugged you into a half-hug outside the ambulance bay, squeezing you so tightly you had to laugh. "You're a badass, you know that?" he'd said against your hair, voice rough. And for a second—just a second—he hadn't let go.

When you switched to night shift for extra trauma training, you met Jack. At first, he was just your attending—brilliant, relentless, intimidating. He kept a careful distance, crisp in his authority. But slowly, cracks showed.

One night, after a rough code, you’d slumped against the nurses’ station with blood-streaked gloves still on. Jack appeared beside you, two coffees in hand, sliding one toward you without a word. You’d blinked at him, fingers brushing his when you took it, and for a moment he didn't move.

"Thanks," you’d muttered, voice rough.

He’d just shrugged, but there was the ghost of a smirk on his lips. "You’re welcome, hotshot."

You caught him smirking more often after that—at your dry jokes, your quick comebacks—offering gruff praise when you pulled off a save. Once, when you fumbled a suturing kit in a rare moment of exhaustion, Jack crouched beside you and murmured low, "Hey, breathe. You've got this."

His hand brushed your back—brief, grounding, unbearably warm—and your heart stuttered so hard it was a wonder he didn’t hear it.

Jack was slower to open up. The late-night rooftop coffees, both of you leaning back against the ledge, city lights blinking below as you traded quiet stories about worst patients, favorite saves, tiny admissions about sleeplessness and fear. The stolen glances across the nurses' station, like magnets catching without meaning to.

There were nights the ER would blur around you—patients screaming, monitors wailing—and Jack's voice would cut through the noise, steady and sure: "You with me?" 

And you’d always nod. Always.

Once, you'd both reached for the same suture kit and your hands had collided, his fingers wrapping around yours instinctively. Neither of you pulled away immediately. His thumb brushed your knuckles before he let go, the moment stretched tight enough to snap like a stale rubberband.

By the time you'd rotated back onto a blended shift with Robby and Jack, you were caught in the pull of both of them. Two different kinds of push and pull. 

If working with the both of them had taught you anything, it was that Michael Robinavitch and Jack Abbot were combustible—two sparks waiting for a reason to ignite, especially when it came to you.

They both had a tendency to be overprotective, possessive, and if they were honest, being around each other's orbit didn't help. When you’d come in for night shift and bid Robby goodbye as he ended his day, Jack would eye the way you laughed with Robby, the way Robby’s hand lingered at your elbow or lower back. More than once, Jack had swooped in, pretending to need you for a case, cutting the conversation short with a clipped, "You ready, Dr. L/N?"

Robby noticed. His wide grin supersaturated with disbelief, like he knew exactly what Jack was doing, clapping him on the shoulder harder than necessary as he left.

Likewise, when you clocked out in the morning and Robby was coming in to start his shift, it was Jack’s turn to be on the receiving end. You’d be talking with Jack at the nurses' station—usually laughing softly, leaning in closer than strictly necessary—and Robby would stroll up, insert himself easily into the conversation, his arm bumping yours as he reached for a chart.

Jack would tense, jaw ticking, shooting Robby a look that practically screamed, "We'll talk about this later," even if the words never came.

And when it came to the new interns—the accident magnets they were—their protective instincts bordered on alien.

Santos once knocked over a cart dangerously close to you and before you could even flinch, Jack had caught the edge of it with lightning-fast reflexes, his body shielding yours. He turned to Santos after, shooting him a look so sharp it could’ve drawn blood—the kind of glare that promised slow, premeditated murder if she didn't start paying more attention. Santos paled visibly, stammering an apology that Jack didn't even acknowledge.

Another time, Whitaker had nearly swung a door into you during a code and Robby had yanked you back by your waist, muttering a sharp, "Watch it," without even looking. A few minutes later, Robby—with all the casual malice in the world—assigned Whitaker to shadow Myrna for the rest of his shift as punishment. The look on Whitaker's face had been priceless; the vindictive smirk on Robby's face afterward, even better.

Javadi once sent a gurney skidding wild around a corner and you barely sidestepped—only for both Jack and Robby to step in front of you at once. Both of them looked ready to grill Javadi, who froze like she'd been caught committing arson. Before either could open their mouths, you clicked your tongue at them in warning, stepping around them to calm the sleep-deprived child genius, "Are you okay, honey? Let's get you some coffee."

You shot Robby and Jack a narrow glare over your shoulder—a silent command to stand down—and, grudgingly, they obeyed. But not without Jack muttering something about "rookies" under his breath. You, for the most part, played innocent—but you weren’t completely blind. You saw the way they watched you, the way they bristled and circled, each trying not to cross some invisible line neither had the nerve to define.

Once, you’d even caught them at the end of the hallway near the staff lockers, deep in a heated whisper-yelling argument. You were too far away to hear it all, but you caught pieces as you slowed your steps.

"...not yours to stake out," Robby hissed, shoulders tense.

Jack’s jaw flexed. "Maybe I’m what she needs," he snapped, voice rough with something almost broken.

Robby stepped closer, the space between them charged. "You don't get to decide that."

You’d ducked away before they could notice you, heart pounding, pretending you hadn't heard a single thing. You hadn't known then—not really. But you'd be lying if you said you hadn't had an idea.

In the weeks that followed, you noticed the air between them eased—less tense, less brittle. They started joking again, nudged shoulders in passing, teased you in tandem during transitional shifts. It almost felt normal again. Almost. But underneath it, something still lingered—a crackling undercurrent that neither of them could quite hide. Not from each other. And certainly not from you.

Little did you know that tonight would be the night where things completely shifted.

The bar was loud and too warm, the floor sticky, the music a little too old to be considered vintage and a little too new to be classic. It didn’t matter. It was freedom.

Robby bought whiskey for himself, beer for Jack, and whatever alcohol-masked cocktail you pointed at on the menu.

"To surviving," Robby toasted, clinking glasses.

"To making it out without a lawsuit," Jack amended dryly.

You laughed, rolling your eyes, and drank deep.

It was easier than it should have been to relax. To let the haze of alcohol smooth the sharp edges of exhaustion. You grabbed Robby's hand and tugged him toward the makeshift dance floor, singing, "Come on, old man, dance with me!"

He hesitated, shaking his head and smiling to himself—then grinned and let you pull him. Robby spun you first instead, taking you by surprise, his laughter warm and easy against your ear. You laughed as he caught you against him again, both of you breathless and loose with happiness.

Jack leaned against the nearby wall, watching with that steady gaze of his, beer bottle dangling from his fingertips.

"C'mon, Jack," Robby called over the music. "Get your ass over here."

Jack held up a hand from where he leaned against the wall, a silent 'I'm good,' his mouth quirking in a reluctant smile. But you weren't having it. You weaved your way through the crowd toward him, leaning up on your toes to whisper something warm against his ear.

"Dance with me, Jack," you whispered through the noise, your voice low and warm, meant only for him. Jack stiffened for a second, breath catching, and when you pulled back, his eyes were dark, hungry. He pushed off the wall without another word and followed you to the floor, his beer forgotten.

Robby spun you again, and when you stumbled laughing into Jack, he caught you with hands that lingered a little too long on your waist. His palms were warm, steady, the faint smell of his cologne—clean soap and cedar—curling around you. Robby pressed back into your other side, the scent of whiskey and his usual lazy citrus aftershave filling your senses.

Their touches blended together—Jack’s firmer grip at your hips, Robby’s looser, teasing sways—and yet you could still tell exactly who was who. Jack's breath was slow and deliberate against your temple; Robby’s laughter rumbled against your back, a low vibration that soaked into your bones. For a moment, you were suspended between them, the music, the warmth, the want—utterly theirs.

You were on cloud nine, swaying to and fro like you were caught between the ocean and the moon—their touches the tide, pulling you back and forth, holding you steady.

Jack’s fingers flexed, and for a moment, the world tightened down to just the three of you—the heat, the gravity pulling you closer.

Robby pressed in behind you, his hands finding your hips, swaying you to the beat. Jack didn't step back. He stepped closer.

The music pulsed around you. Your head tipped back against Robby's shoulder, your eyes locking with Jack's.

Jack’s hand brushed your cheek, feather-light, like he was giving you the chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

Robby's breath ghosted your ear. "God, you’re beautiful."

Jack's thumb traced your jawline. "You drive us crazy, you know that?"

Your pulse thundered. Your body ached in ways that had nothing to do with fatigue.

You leaned in close, hovering near Jack's lips, but didn't kiss him—not yet. Jack froze, his hands tightening just slightly at your waist, pulling back just enough to make the boundary clear. You could see it written all over him—the hesitation, the unspoken rule he lived by: he wouldn't kiss you or anyone without explicit consent, either given or received.

You smiled softly, brushing your fingers lightly along his jaw. "I'm sober enough to give consent," you assured, breathless but certain.

Then you turned to Robby too, catching his eye as your fingers brushed his cheek, your voice low but sure. "To both of you." His fingers tangled with yours easily, his grin soft and a little stunned as he let you loop him into your orbit—exactly where he’d always wanted to be.

Facing Jack again, you saw relief flash across his face—followed almost immediately by want. Jack leaned in, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath fanning your lips, his nose brushing yours. He hovered there, still hesitant, giving you one last chance to pull away. When you didn't—when you leaned into him instead—he surrendered. His mouth claimed yours unapologetically, slow and aching, like he had all the time in the world and no intention of ever letting you go.

Robby kissed your neck at the same time, teeth scraping lightly against your pulse point, one hand splaying over your stomach, pulling you closer. His beard scraped roughly against your skin, a delicious, rasping contrast to Jack's lighter stubble as Jack’s mouth moved against yours—a difference you felt everywhere they touched you. Robby's touch was warmer, softer, always teasing; Jack's was firmer, anchoring, a bundle of hot coals beneath your skin. Different, but the same in the way they both made your nerves light up, made you feel like you were being pulled apart only to be put back together better, more whole, by the both of them.

You whimpered into Jack’s mouth, dizzy from the dual sensation, from the way they bracketed you, claimed you without a single word. Jack's hands shifted, strong and sure, spinning you gently—a slow, deliberate turn—until you faced Robby. For a moment, you stood suspended between them again, heartbeat thundering in your ears.

Robby met you with a grin that was all heat and mischief, and then he kissed you—hotter, deeper, needier. Jack's mouth found your pulse point, sucking and nipping, while Robby's tongue traced the seam of your lips, coaxing you open.

You gasped into Robby's mouth, hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt as Jack’s teeth grazed your throat, a low growl rumbling against your skin. Every nerve ending sparked, overwhelmed by the heat, the dizzying contrast, the way their hands and mouths knew your body like a song they'd always known by heart.

You couldn't tell how long the three of you had been standing there, tangled up, swaying in the sticky heat of the bar, the music thudding faintly around you. It could’ve been minutes or hours—time had stopped mattering somewhere between Jack’s lips and Robby’s hands.

Jack dipped his head, his breath skating warm against your ear, sending a fresh shiver down your spine.

"Do you want to get out of here, sweetheart?" he murmured, voice low and rough, a rasp of barely leashed need.

You nodded immediately, the word tumbling from your lips like a prayer. "Yes," you breathed—needy, desperate. The delicious ache between your legs had built to a throbbing pulse you couldn't ignore anymore, and feeling their firm bodies sandwiching yours, pressing into you from both sides, did absolutely nothing to help your self-control.

Robby chuckled, low and rough. "My place?"

"Fuck, yes—anywhere," you breathed, a laugh bubbling out of you, unable to stop the grin pulling at your lips. Jack grabbed your hand. Robby wrapped an arm around your waist.

Together, you stumbled out into the night—drunk on each other—laughing, touching, wanting.

Robby’s apartment wasn’t far—just a few blocks—and the fresh air hit your overheated skin like a balm.

The three of you walked fast, heads down, hands brushing and grabbing. Jack’s hand found the small of your back, steady and grounding. Robby kept an arm slung around your shoulders, pulling you close enough that you stumbled a few steps, giggling breathlessly against his chest.

The streets were mostly empty, just the faint hum of distant traffic and the sharp sound of your shoes hitting pavement. Every so often, Jack would glance over at you, his gaze dark, searing through the haze of streetlight. Robby would squeeze your side, lean in to murmur something low and wicked that made your cheeks burn and your thighs clench.

By the time you reached Robby’s building, you were buzzing with need, clinging to both of them without even thinking.

Jack opened the door for you, hand lingering low on your back. Robby herded you inside, already crowding close, already reaching for you like he couldn't wait a second longer.

The door slammed shut behind you with a thud, and before you could even blink, their hands were on you again—urgent, hungry, claiming.

It was dizzying, overwhelming, intoxicating.

But somewhere between Jack's mouth brushing your neck and Robby's fingers slipping under your shirt, clarity cracked through the haze. You shifted slightly, placing a hand on each of their chests, feeling their hearts hammering under your palms.

"Wait," you breathed.

Immediately, they froze—Jack pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, Robby's hands pausing where they'd met your hips.

You took a shaky breath, sobering a little more with every heartbeat. "I just… I need to ask… what's going on between us?" you said, voice rough with nerves. "I want this—I want both of you—but are you two okay with that? With… us?"

You glanced between them, heart hammering, terrified of the answer but needing it all the same.

Robby's grin softened into something gentler, thumb brushing the bare skin of your waist. "Been wanting this longer than I should probably admit."

Jack's hand found your jaw, thumb stroking your cheekbone, gaze burning into yours. After a moment, he exhaled slowly, seeming to gather himself. Then, with a gentle but firm touch, he guided you to sit on the couch behind you.

"Come here," he said softly. "Let's talk."

Robby, reading the mood immediately, peeled away toward the kitchen. "I'll make some tea," he said over his shoulder—giving you space, but also clearly knowing this conversation might take a minute, and that sobering up a little more wouldn't hurt any of you.

Jack sat down on your left, still close but not crowding, his thumb brushing lightly over your knee. "Talk to us, sweetheart," he murmured. "Whatever's in your head—we want to hear it."

You fiddled with the hem of your top, nervous energy humming under your skin. "I... how did we even get here?" you asked. "You, Robby—this thing between the three of us... Are you two really okay with it? With… sharing me? Sharing each other?"

Jack's lips twitched like he almost smiled but held it back, something more serious glinting in his eyes instead. Robby set down mugs on the table and dropped onto the arm of the couch on your right.

"Yeah," Robby said, voice softer now. "More than okay."

Jack reached up, thumb tracing the edge of your jaw. "Been a long time coming, if you ask me," he said quietly. "And if we weren’t good with it, sweetheart, you’d know already."

Robby leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, flashing you a crooked grin. "If it's any consolation," he said, voice teasing, "I liked you first."

You scoffed, the tension easing a little, even as your cheeks heated. Jack snorted under his breath, giving Robby a sideways look. "Congratulations. You had a head start and still fumbled it."

"Hey!" Robby protested. "Some of us play the long game."

You shook your head, warmth blooming in your chest, feeling the old familiar dynamic between them—sniping, nudging, teasing—but now all focused on you.

"So," you said, biting your lip. "Was that what you two were arguing about that day by the lockers? A few weeks ago?"

Jack sighed through his nose, and Robby grinned like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Yeah," Robby admitted. "You caught the tail end of it."

Jack's hand slid down your arm, squeezing gently. "We were... figuring it out."

"Mostly... arguing over who was gonna make the first move," Robby added, winking.

You laughed, soft and breathless, the last of the nerves bleeding out of you. Robby bumped your shoulder gently with his, his eyes crinkling with affection.

"Old school here wanted to make some grand gesture," Jack said, jerking his thumb at Robby. "I was ready to just tackle you and confess."

Robby shook his head, tongue poking the inside of his cheek, the corner of his mouth twitching. "And you wonder why I didn't trust you to lead."

You let out a giggle you couldn't quite suppress, heart squeezing at how easy this felt—how they both looked at you like you were something precious. Jack shifted closer, his knee brushing yours, while Robby draped his arm casually across the back of the couch behind you.

"Whatever pace you want, sweetheart," Jack murmured. "Whatever you need. If you want this—us—we're in."

"We're not going anywhere," Robby affirmed. "Only if you want us too."

Cradling the warm mug between your hands, you smiled to yourself, giddy and a little dazed. Surrounded by them—their warmth, their steadiness, their absolute certainty—you felt a slow, overwhelming peace settle into your bones.

Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined either of them liking you—let alone, outside any professional context—but this? This was beyond anything you dared hope for. A dream you hadn't even let yourself dream.

Still, nerves prickled under your skin. Nerves hummed just beneath your skin. "I’m nervous," you admitted, voice soft but steady. "I’ve never done anything like this before. What if I’m not enough? What if I disappoint you? I don’t know if I’m built for relationships—let alone something this delicate. I’m scared I won’t be able to give each of you what you need."

Robby immediately set his mug down and reached for you, his hand settling warmly on your thigh, squeezing gently. "Hey," he said, voice low and sure. "You’re already enough. You, exactly as you are."

Jack leaned in too, his fingers brushing the back of your neck, grounding you with each slow stroke. "We’re not asking for perfect," he murmured. "We just want you."

Their certainty cracked something open inside you, something you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding shut—and slowly, steadily, the fear loosened its grip.

You set your mug down, heart hammering, and looked between them, searching their faces one more time. Robby gave you an encouraging tilt of his head; Jack’s hand never left your skin, tracing slow, grounding patterns.

You cleared your throat. "So how does..." you gestured vaguely between the three of you, "this work? Sharing me, I mean."

Robby chuckled. "Well, we'd figure it out together," he said easily. His fingers traced lazy circles over your knee, comforting, teasing. "It’s not about splitting you up or taking turns like it’s a damn schedule. It’s about both of us making sure you feel wanted. Taken care of. Every second."

As he spoke, Jack leaned in, lips brushing just below your ear, his stubble scraping lightly against your skin. Goosebumps bloomed across your skin. 

Robby's voice dropped, a smirk playing on his lips as he tilted his head toward Jack. "Though he’s better at explaining the rules."

Jack's hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face toward him. "No rules, not really," he murmured, mouth dragging along your neck. "Just tell us what you need. When you need it. And we—" he pressed a lingering kiss just below your jawline, "promise to give it to you."

You exhaled shakily, caught between the heat of Jack’s mouth and the warm weight of Robby's hand sliding higher along your thigh, the both of them slowly, steadily, setting you aflame.

Jack leaned in first—not demanding, not pushing, just giving you space to meet him halfway. You did, pressing your mouth to his, a sigh escaping against his lips. His kiss was slow at first, savoring, a promise.

When you broke apart, Robby was already there, catching your chin between his fingers and drawing you into him. His kiss was hotter, rougher, all pent-up hunger and laughter and want. You gasped softly into his mouth, fingers curling in his shirt.

Hands roamed—Jack’s warm and patient, stroking slow, steady paths along your inner thigh, while Robby’s fingers flirted shamelessly with the hem of your shirt, tugging it higher inch by inch. The pace between them built naturally—Jack’s touch grounding and possessive, Robby’s teasing and featherlight, like a promise he was aching to keep.

Jack’s hand slipped under the fabric of your top first, palm splaying flat over your bare stomach, the heat of him searing straight through you. Robby followed a breath later, fingers brushing just beneath your ribs, making you arch into them, helpless and wanting. Jack’s mouth was back on your neck, teeth scraping lightly against your pulse, while Robby pressed kisses along your jaw, slow and coaxing, both of them winding you tighter with every breath.

The duality of it—the steadiness of Jack’s hands anchoring you, the playful, maddening tease of Robby’s touch—left you trembling, gasping, caught between them, aching. They didn’t just touch you—they learned you, charting every gasp, every shiver, every breathless plea with reverent, greedy hands. And you gave yourself over to it completely, trusting them to catch you as you fell.

Jack's hand slid higher, fingertips brushing just beneath the band of your bra, while Robby nudged your shirt up over your ribs, planting slow, open-mouthed kisses along your exposed skin. They worked in tandem, peeling your shirt away with practiced ease, leaving you shivering and bare between them.

Jack kissed along your collarbone, featherlight, while Robby's hands coasted down your sides, making you arch and sigh into their touch. You felt dizzy with it, lost in the contrast—Jack's slow, claiming heat, Robby's teasing, daring warmth. Every nerve in your body sang for them, thrumming with the need to be touched, devoured, loved.

Jack's mouth returned to yours in a slow, bruising kiss while Robby leaned in, hands slipping beneath the band of your bra, rough thumbs brushing over your nipples. You gasped, the sensation sparking through you like lightning, hips shifting restlessly against the couch cushions.

Robby grinned against your shoulder, murmuring low against your skin, "Sensitive, huh?"

Jack chuckled into your mouth, his hands steadying your waist. "Good to know..."

You whimpered, nodding, surrendering completely to their slow, relentless worship—your body already unraveling under their hands and mouths, and they were just getting started.

"Too many clothes... off," you gasped breathlessly, tugging at the hem of your own top and glancing meaningfully between the two of them.

Robby grinned, wicked and eager. "Thought you'd never ask."

Jack hummed low in his throat, his hands already sliding up your sides, helping to peel the rest of your clothes away with deliberate slowness—as if unwrapping something precious they both intended to indulge in to the fullest extent.

They stripped you bare first, taking their time, every inch of skin revealed under their hungry, adoring gazes. After, you leaned back against the couch, heart hammering, feeling their eyes rake over you with something between adoration and possession. Then they undressed themselves—shirts pulled off in swift, unceremonious movements, revealing solid, muscular frames. Jack's arms flexed as he tossed his shirt aside, lean but powerful, while Robby's broader chest gleamed under the low light, his biceps straining deliciously as he shucked off his own layers.

You couldn't help it—you toyed with the hem of your underwear absentmindedly, admiring them, drinking them in. The dips of their hips, the strength built over years of unrelenting shifts and physical work. The noticeable bulges pressing against their briefs made your thighs squeeze together instinctively, seeking relief from the growing, delicious ache.

Both of them noticed. Jack prowled closer first, his eyes dark, focused, reverent, like he was already memorizing every inch of you. Robby followed, his grin dropping into something hungrier, need coiling thick between the three of you.

Jack knelt between your legs, his hands trailing slowly up your calves, your knees, coaxing them apart as Robby lowered himself onto the couch behind you, sliding you down lower, pulling your back flush against his chest. His arms bracketed you securely, anchoring you against the firm heat of his body, while you melted between him and Jack, breath catching at the feeling of being completely surrounded.

You felt their heat everywhere—Jack's breath fanning against your inner thighs, Robby's heartbeat hammering steady against your spine. Jack's hands were firm on your thighs, thumbs stroking slow, deliberate circles that made your skin prickle with anticipation. Behind you, Robby's hands roamed shamelessly, toying with your stomach, skimming higher to tease the sensitive peaks of your breasts, brushing and rolling your nipples until you gasped and arched into their touch, caught helplessly between them.

Jack glanced up at you through his lashes, a slow, devastating smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Let us take care of you."

Robby murmured into your ear, his lips brushing your temple. "Just lean back. Let us show you how good this can be."

You whimpered softly, head falling back against Robby's shoulder, fully surrendering to them. Jack's hands squeezed your thighs, steadying you, while Robby's fingers skimmed higher, teasing circles around your nipples until you were trembling with need.

Jack pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee, then another, working his way slowly, deliberately up your inner thigh, each one hotter, wetter, more possessive than the last. Robby kept you anchored, his free hand brushing your hair back from your face, murmuring low praise against your skin, grounding you even as you unraveled.

Every brush of Jack's stubble against your sensitive thighs sent shivers skating down your spine. You barely managed to pant out, "Please," before Jack's mouth hovered dangerously close to where you needed him most, the heat of his breath making you writhe against Robby's chest, desperate and burning and so beautifully undone.

Jack hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, tugging it down with agonizing slowness. Once it was off, he balled the fabric in his hand for a moment—then tossed it up toward Robby without a word. Robby caught it without missing a beat. He lifted it to his face, inhaled deeply, and groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your back. "Fuck, baby," he rasped, his grip tightening around your waist.

And then—finally—Jack's mouth found you. One slow, deliberate lick that made you cry out, made your whole body tense and shudder against Robby's.

Jack groaned into you, hands digging into your thighs like he could hold you open forever. He ate you out like a man possessed, like he'd been starved for the taste of you and was finally allowed to feast. Messy, desperate, utterly pussy-drunk. He mouthed and sucked and licked you like worship, dragging obscene sounds from your throat with every flick of his tongue. The wet, filthy sounds of it filled the room, each lap of his tongue driving you closer to the edge.

You were soaked—shamelessly, beautifully wet for him—and Jack reveled in it, letting out a low, wrecked groan every time you bucked against his mouth. His face was drenched in you, slick and shining under the dim lights, the evidence of your pleasure painting his jaw and chin as he worked you over with single-minded devotion. Robby pressed kisses along your temple, whispering praises into your ear, but it was Jack who owned you in that moment—Jack who wouldn't stop, couldn't stop until you shattered for him, drunk on nothing but the sound and taste and feel of you, desperate for everything you would give him.

Jack slid one thick finger inside you, curling it expertly, pulling another whimper from your throat. He didn't give you time to adjust before slipping in a second, stretching you so sweetly, working you open with slow, devastating precision. Robby's fingers trailed down your stomach, teasing lazy, featherlight patterns until they found your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make your thighs jerk. Jack held your right thigh open with one firm hand, while Robby used his left leg to nudge your other knee wider, keeping you perfectly spread for them—completely, gloriously exposed. The contrast of their steady pressure, their control, only heightened the burning pleasure already coiling low in your belly. 

Overwhelming was an understatement to describe the state of your sensory cortex—Jack's tongue and fingers working deep inside you, Robby's slow, relentless pressure on your clit. You felt your soul begin to slip from your body, floating somewhere above, untethered by the sheer, unbearable pleasure. Everything was too much—the wet, filthy sound of Jack feasting on you, the breathy filth Robby was murmuring in your ear, the way they both knew exactly how to break you apart.

It hit you like a flashfire—white-hot and consuming—and you exploded with a choked cry, body arching helplessly between them as the orgasm ripped through you, shattering you into a thousand glittering pieces in their hands.

Jack didn't stop—not at first. He licked you through it, groaning into your core like a man possessed, savoring every trembling aftershock you gave him. Robby held you tighter, grounding you while your vision blurred and your body spasmed with the force of it.

You whimpered, boneless and wrecked, hips twitching as Jack finally eased off with a final kiss to your sensitive clit. When he pulled back, his face was a mess—slick with your release, shining under the dim lights, utterly wrecked and utterly in love with the taste of you.

He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth—completely unashamed—and smirked, voice rough and low. "You taste even better than I dreamed, sweetheart."

He lifted his hand—your essence webbed slick between his middle and ring fingers—and held it up toward Robby. Robby caught his wrist without hesitation, wrapped his lips around Jack's fingers, and sucked them clean, slow and deliberate. The sight—Robby moaning low around Jack’s fingers, Jack staring down at you like he wanted to devour you all over again—nearly made you die and ascend straight to heaven on the spot.

Robby licked his lips, eyes molten. His voice was low and rough when he finally spoke. "Which one of us do you want first?" 

You could barely breathe, still half-falling from your last orgasm. Your body was limp, floating, buzzing with overstimulation—but the way they looked at you—hungry, waiting—set a fresh ache rolling through your gut. 

You bit your lip, gaze flickering between them. Robby—broad and steady behind you, heat radiating from his bare chest now damp with sweat. Jack—still kneeling between your spread thighs, resting his head lightly against your thigh like it was a pillow, his face slick with you, shining under the dim lights. He stared up at you with a look so raw, so utterly reverent, it made your breath catch—like you were something holy, something he couldn't believe he was allowed to touch.

You opened your mouth to answer—but all that came out was a wrecked, breathy little giggle.

Jack chuckled, low and wrecked. "Yeah," he rasped, thumb brushing your thigh possessively. "We might've broken her a little."

Robby grinned wickedly against your shoulder, pressing a slow kiss to your neck. "We haven't even started yet, baby."

You found the strength to lift your head, heart still hammering against your ribs. Jack and Robby seemed to feel it too—the need to slow, just for a second, to gather you back into yourself.Jack kissed your thigh softly while Robby stroked lazy, grounding patterns along your ribs and stomach, whispering, "Breathe. We've got you."

Their touches soothed the wild, frantic buzz in your veins. You melted between them, savoring that brief, perfect moment of care—before the tension, the heat, the hunger started sparking again.

You leaned forward, pulling Jack up onto the couch, crashing your mouth against his in a heated, desperate kiss. You tasted yourself on his tongue, slick and filthy and devastating—and it only made you kiss him harder, grinding your hips against Robby in wordless, frantic need.

Robby groaned, feeling you start to move against him, and his hands slid possessively down your sides to anchor you. Jack pulled back just enough for you to gasp a shaky breath, eyes dark and blown wide, before you started moving, trading places—Robby got up with a low groan, adjusting himself slightly as he moved aside. You slid off Robby's lap, allowing Jack to fall back onto the couch cushions, legs spread, inviting. Kneeling between Jack’s thighs, your fingers fumbled at his waistband. He hissed softly when you freed him, the heavy, flushed weight of him slapping against his stomach.

Robby kneeled down behind you—his hands tracing down the delicate arch of your back, then slipping lower to spread you open. You shuddered as he leaned in, pressing a soft, teasing lick along your folds, tasting you again before standing up behind you, lining himself up.

Jack held his hand up toward Robby and paused for a beat, gaze searching yours. "Do you want us to use condoms?" he asked, voice quiet but serious.

You shook your head instantly, breathless but certain. "I want to feel you. Please, I need you like this..."

That was all the permission they needed.

Before he could push in, you turned your head slightly, your hands reaching back. You found Robby's cock in one hand and Jack's in the other, stroking them both slowly, deliberately, savoring the way each man shuddered under your touch. You gave yourself a moment to take in their differences: Robby was longer, while Jack was thicker. Robby had a dark, full bush of hair at his base, while Jack was trimmed short, neat but not bare. Both of them were perfect—different textures, different shapes—but each exactly the right length and girth to fulfill your every need. Your mouth watered just thinking about it, your thighs instinctively pressing together in anticipation.

Robby leaned down, kissed the curve of your shoulder, and then pointed toward Jack with a tilt of his chin, a silent handoff. "It's okay, baby," he murmured against your skin, voice thick with need. "We've got you."

With that, he gripped your hips, steadying you, and with one slow, devastating push, he slid inside—filling you completely, making your knees tremble.

"Fuck." You couldn't tell which one of you said it but all of you understood. 

Sandwiched between them, your mouth found Jack’s cock, wrapping your lips around him as Robby filled you from behind, and you thought—half-delirious—that heaven had nothing on this.

"I'm considering getting it taken out," you admitted to Samira one sluggish morning, slumped at the nurses' station after a brutal overnight shift. "I haven't had sex in forever. And honestly? After that disaster of a 'date' last month—if you can even call it that—I’m swearing off men altogether."

Samira snorted into her coffee. "Babe. It's an IUD, not a vow of celibacy. Just leave it. Who knows? One day you’ll trip and fall onto someone worthwhile."

You laughed weakly, swirling your pen between your fingers. "Yeah. The odds of my toys and I having a long, happy life together are becoming more and more likely."

Neither of you noticed Jack and Robby just around the corner of the nurses' station, both frozen in place, pretending to sift through charts as they listened intently—Jack’s jaw clenched tight, Robby’s fingers twitching like he wanted to strangle something. Robby cleared his throat a little too aggressively.

Samira sipped her coffee, then grinned over the rim of the mug. "Please. The perfect man could walk in, naked, with a six-pack and a stethoscope and you’d still roll your eyes."

You snorted. "Exactly. Unless he’s got magic hands and a brain with emotional intelligence to match, I’m not interested. And even then…" You shrugged. "Battery-powered and drama-free is winning right now."

Jack's pen snapped clean in two, the sharp crack making you and Samira both glance up. He didn't even flinch, just grabbed another pen—handed to him silently by Robby, like nothing had happened—and kept moving. You and Samira shared a puzzled look before continuing your conversation.

"I'm just saying," Samira continued breezily, unaware of the storm brewing behind the divider, "maybe keep it. Future you might thank you."

Jack’s voice floated in a second later—low, rough, a little too casual. "Keep it."

You blinked. "Uh… thanks for the unsolicited medical advice, Dr. Abbot?" you teased lightly.

Jack just shrugged, gaze unreadable. "Saw a teen pregnancy case come through last night," he said, voice low and rough.

Samira let out a soft exhale. "Shit."

You winced, the image settling heavy in your chest. "That’s awful."

Jack tipped his chin down. "Reminded me how fast things can change. Better to be protected. Even if you think you won’t need it."

You nodded slowly, assuming he meant it like any good physician would—just another reminder in a world of unpredictable chaos. At the time, you didn't know that when he said "keep it," he wasn’t thinking about some random case or an oath of ethics.

He was thinking about you, and Robby, and the secret, filthy hope that someday soon, it wouldn’t just be hypothetical anymore.

The thing about Jack and Robby was this—they both prided themselves on being brilliant doctors, but even more so on remembering the little things.

Especially when it came to you.

A particularly deep thrust snapped you out of your mind wandering. Robby set a brutal pace almost immediately, hips slamming into yours with deep, relentless thrusts that made your entire body jolt forward. You moaned around Jack's cock, drool slipping from the corners of your lips, your throat vibrating with every desperate, broken sound you made.

Jack hissed, his hand tangling in your hair, the vibrations from your moans sending sharp waves of pleasure up his spine. "Fuck, sweetheart," he groaned, head falling back against the couch. "You're perfect like this."

You could barely think, overwhelmed and soaked, the rhythm of Robby pounding into you from behind driving you forward with every thrust—until your lips slid further down Jack's length, gagging slightly as you fought to keep your composure.

"That's it," Robby growled, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise, the other sliding up your spine. "Look at you… taking him so well while I wreck you."

Jack moaned low in his throat, eyes dark and glassy as he watched your mouth stretch around him. "Jesus Christ," he breathed, his voice rough and reverent. "You're gonna make me lose it."

Robby laughed softly behind you, breath hot against your shoulder as he drove into you with another sharp, delicious thrust. "She loves it. Don't you, baby?"

You could only let out a faint, muffled whimper, your mouth still stuffed full of Jack. Jack leaned forward, his hand curling into your hair and giving a firm tug at the roots—just enough to sting, just enough to make your eyes roll back with the delicious ache.

"He asked you a question, sweetheart..." he cooed, his voice dark silk in your ear.

He pulled you off his cock slowly, strings of spit still connecting your lips to him, a line trailing messily down your chin. You turned your head to look back at Robby, dazed and trembling, lips swollen, your chin slick, eyes red-rimmed and glassy with the threat of a tear, and a blissed-out, filthy smile curving your mouth.

"I love it," you managed, voice hoarse, breath catching between words. "I love everything you're doing to me. Please... don't stop."

Robby’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. His eyes darkened, hands tightening on your hips. "Fuck," he rasped, stunned and awed. "You’re gonna be the death of me."

Jack leaned in, brushing your hair away from your face with a surprisingly gentle hand, his other palm cradling your cheek. "You’re doing so well," he murmured, voice a smooth, deep rasp that curled low in your belly. "So fucking perfect like this. Look at you, taking him so well. Can you feel how much he loves being inside you?"

You whimpered, nodding as Jack’s fingers trailed down your jaw, tilting your chin up so he could look into your eyes. "That’s it," he whispered. 

Jack brushed your cheek with his knuckles, tugging you into a messy, open-mouthed kiss, his hips slowing just enough to keep you balanced right on the precipice. You moaned against him, the sound helpless, raw—your body trembling with need. Robby's smirk brushed your skin where he pressed kisses to your shoulder, still moving inside you with slow, devastating thrusts. He pulled out suddenly, making you whimper as the high you were balancing on ripped cruelly from your grasp. You barely had time to recover before Jack's hand wrapped around your throat, firm but careful, beckoning you to follow his lead.

"On the couch," he ordered, voice rough silk.

Dazed but obedient, you moved quickly, positioning yourself laterally across the couch and head perched on the raised armrest. Robby stood directly above your head, cock glistening and heavy, while Jack moved below you, one hand stroking your chest possessively before gripping your thighs.

You braced your elbows on the cushions, breath catching as Jack lined himself up. With one strong, devastating push, he filled you—thicker, stretching you even more, making your mouth fall open in a ragged moan. Robby guided your face toward him, his hand gentle on your cheek, his cock brushing your lips. You blinked up at him, wrecked, lips parted around a gasp as Jack pounded into you, driving you up with every punishing thrust. Robby watched you with hooded eyes, stroking himself lazily, the sight of you completely wrecked making his cock twitch in his hand.

"Come on, baby," he said softly, thumbing the center of your lip. "Open up for me."

"Look at you," Jack rasped. "You're fucking perfect. Made for us."

Both of them were drinking in the sight of you—your hair damp and stuck to your forehead, lips swollen and slick. Your moans were breathy and ragged, a near-constant stream of gasps and incorrigible cries. Robby's gaze was half-lidded, jaw tight. Jack’s hands gripped your hips like he never wanted to let go, his eyes devouring every inch of you like a man deprived of oxygen. The raw awe in their stares made your stomach twist with heat.

It was too much. The stretch of Jack's thick cock filling you, Robby's taste still lingering on your tongue. Surrounded by their heat, their sounds mixing with your own, the pressure finally crested. Your pleasure broke like a supernova, sharp and wild, tearing through you. You came again with a single, desperate cry, your entire body convulsing between them, walls fluttering and gripping Jack so tightly it dragged a guttural, broken groan from his throat.

That did it for Robby.

He thrust into your mouth with a sharp snap of his hips, then again, and again—desperate, ragged, chasing his own high. You could barely keep up, still shuddering from your orgasm as he fucked your throat, one hand braced on the back of the couch, the other in your hair.

"Jesus fuck—" he gasped, voice unraveling. "Just like that..."

With a final, wrecked moan, Robby came, hips stuttering. Hot release spilled across your tongue as he groaned through clenched teeth, fingers flexing in your hair as he slowly stilled, trembling with aftershocks.

You swallowed greedily, drinking him down without hesitation, eager for every drop. His taste sent another flicker of arousal through your spent frame. The hunger in your body didn’t fade—it only simmered lower, deeper, tethered to the way Robby was still trembling, cock pulsing with the last aftershocks of his release. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, cheeks flushed, a dazed but satisfied smile curling at the corners of his lips as he memorized you—every wrecked, glistening inch of you. Jack, still hard and deep inside you, kept his hands on your hips, his eyes fixed on your face like he was watching something holy.

Jack slowed his thrusts, then gestured silently for Robby to join him.

Robby leaned down and gave you a deep, claiming kiss, tasting himself on your tongue with a low groan before making his way down your body. Jack shifted, lifting you with surprising care, settling onto the couch with you pulled onto his lap—back to his chest. You were straddling him in reverse, legs spread open across the cushions.

"Just relax," Jack murmured against your shoulder, his lips brushing your skin. "Let us take care of you." 

Robby knelt down between your legs, his breath ghosting over your plump folds before his mouth latched on, tongue teasing and devouring in practiced rhythm. He licked long and deep, groaning into you, tasting both your slick and Jack's—heady, intoxicating. He held your knees wide open, anchoring you in place with firm hands, occasionally slipping one beneath your thighs to lift you slightly—helping Jack thrust up harder, deeper, driving his cock into you at an angle that made your vision blur.

Jack's hands returned to your breasts, massaging, kneading, rolling your nipples between his fingers until you whimpered. One hand slid up to your throat again, pressing just enough to make your breath catch, before traveling back down over your chest, across your belly.

If God was real, you had no doubt that this was the Biblical version of heaven. Jack filling you from behind, grinding up into your sweet spot with precision, while Robby sucked at your clit, tongue flicking and curling.

Robby pulled back for a moment with a breathless groan, his mouth slick, beard glistening, and eyes dark with awe. "So fucking beautiful," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your trembling inner thigh.

Jack's voice followed, low and wrecked against your ear.

"One more for us," he rasped. "Come for us again. Give it to us."

The word—us—shattered something inside you. The way he said it, raw and desperate, made your body clench again in anticipation, your breath hitching helplessly as the overwhelming pressure began to build all over again.

Your vision went white. The combined rhythm of Jack's thrusts and Robby's relentless mouth on your clit sent you spiraling. You shattered with a choked cry, body trembling uncontrollably, and everything dropped away for a second—blacking out from the intensity of it.

Jack groaned when he felt your walls clamp down hard around him, the aftershocks of your orgasm milking him with every flutter. He growled into your shoulder and buried himself deep, spilling into you with a rough, broken curse, clutching you tightly as he came, hips twitching with each wave of release.

You collapsed back against his chest, boneless and dazed, your heart pounding so hard you could feel it thrum through your fingertips. Jack wrapped an arm tightly around your waist, pressing lazy, reverent kisses to your shoulder as he caught his breath.

Robby made his way up the couch and slid in beside you, tucking your loose hair behind your ear before pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek. "You are an absolute vision," he murmured against your skin, voice low. Jack found your hand, intertwining your fingers, rubbing soothing circles into the knuckle of your index finger. The steady rhythm of his thumb was the only thing anchoring you to the now, holding you steady in the soft, humming aftermath.

They took their time with you after that—gentle hands roaming your skin, tender kisses mapping your body. Jack shifted you carefully off his lap, murmuring soft praises as he rubbed soothing circles over the places where his grip had been a little too rough, thumbs ghosting over faint red imprints along your hips and thighs. He pressed warm, apologetic kisses to your shoulder, to the curve of your neck, anywhere his hands had left their mark. Robby, meanwhile, grabbed a warm cloth and helped clean you up with quiet, focused tenderness, his fingers brushing your skin like you were made of glass, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your knee when he finished.

You smiled through the haze of bliss, wriggling free once you felt a little more solid. "Be right back," you muttered, voice scratchy and small.

You tried to stand—and immediately wobbled, your knees buckling.

Jack and Robby, splayed out lazily on the couch, reacted instantly. Their hands came up instinctively to support your back and arms, steadying you with a gentleness that made your chest ache. When you managed to stay upright, they let their hands linger a beat longer.

They watched you sway with twin smirks tugging at their lips, too spent to do much else but chuckle under their breath.

"Careful," Jack drawled, his voice rough but warm. "You look like you just got hit by a truck."

Robby grinned, resting his head against the back of the couch. "Hell of a good one, though."

You managed to wobble to the bathroom, limbs heavy and bliss-drunk, but halfway there, you turned around briefly—gave them both a playful glare, narrowing your eyes, and held up a finger in mock warning.

The living room echoed with bellied laughter, eyes bright despite the exhaustion, the sound warm and full of affection.

By the time you returned from the bathroom, your body felt like a jar of honey under summer sun, the post-sex haze still curling like smoke under your skin. You flopped gracelessly back onto the couch, a sigh of contentment escaping your lips. Jack and Robby had disappeared briefly into the bathroom themselves. You heard the sound of running water, a few low murmurs exchanged, and then footsteps returning.

When they stepped back into the room, you were curled into the couch cushions, fast asleep, a soft smile curving your lips—blissed out and peaceful. Jack stopped in his tracks, heart thudding at the sight. Robby stilled beside him, eyes soft.

"Out like a light," Robby said quietly, but fondly.

Jack nodded. "Yeah. She earned it."

With a quiet grunt, Robby bent and scooped you up gently, cradling you against his chest. You stirred slightly, your arms looping behind his neck, head nuzzling into his collarbone. Jack padded behind, turning off the lights as they went.

The bedroom was dim and quiet. Robby laid you down carefully, brushing the hair from your face as Jack pulled the covers up over you. You shifted sleepily, instinctively reaching for them.

They climbed in on either side of you—Robby wrapping an arm around your waist, Jack curling close behind. Sandwiched between them, you let out a little contented hum as Jack pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, and Robby to your shoulder.

And in that soft, sleepy silence, you drifted off again—safe, wrapped in warmth, held by the two men who had finally let themselves love you, together.

—

Morning came slowly, the golden haze of sunlight warming the sheets. You stirred first, blinking your eyes open and stretching slightly—only to wince at the delicious soreness that radiated from places you hadn’t known could be sore. You smiled into your pillow as flashes from the night before flared back into focus: the heat of their bodies, the sound of their voices, the way your name had spilled from their mouths.

You tip-toed to the bathroom first, brushing your teeth with the spare toothbrush Robby kept under the sink and washing your face. The cool water anchored you back in your body. When you looked up, the mirror offered you a sight to behold—patches of hickeys forming on your neck, some darker than others, scattered like constellations across your collarbone and throat. Something flashed in your core, a low ache waking up with a pulse of memory. Your smile curled with equal parts embarrassment and pride.

Voices drifted from the kitchen. You pulled on a random shirt hung on the edge of the laundry hamper and padded toward the sound, feet silent on the hardwood.

Jack and Robby stood by the stove—well, more accurately, bickered at the stove. Robby held a spatula mid-air while Jack pointed at something on the counter.

"You can’t add garlic to pancakes," Jack muttered, exasperated.

Robby rolled his eyes. "I wasn’t adding it to the pancakes. I was sautéing it for the eggs—Jesus, keep your scrubs on."

Jack gestured broadly with a mixing bowl. "They’re in the same pan, Robby. They’re going to taste like garlic pancakes."

You leaned against the doorway, grinning as you watched them. Both of them were shirtless, wearing sweatpants. His curls were still mussed from sleep, and Robby wore his sweats low on his hips. They looked like a married couple arguing over brunch logistics—and you loved it more than you could say.

"You need to flip that now or it's going to burn," Jack warned, eyeing the skillet like it had personally offended him.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Robby shot back, jabbing at the eggs with the spatula, "Did you suddenly become head chef? You're not even on omelette duty."

Jack crossed his arms and tipped his chin up. "I was until you hijacked the burner and tried to infuse everything with garlic."

"As someone who survived off of expired MREs and basically drinks hot sauce as your only condiment, you are the last person who should be judging my culinary decisions."

You couldn’t hold back your amused scoff. You cleared your throat loudly.

They both froze and turned like synchronized swimmers. Two sets of eyes locked onto you—Jack’s going slightly wide, Robby’s mouth parting like he was about to offer an excuse.

"Morning," you said, deadpan, then broke into a smile.

Their expressions melted, sheepish grins appearing in tandem.

Jack stepped forward first, slipping a hand around your waist and leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your cheek. It was soft, warm, lingering just long enough to make your chest flutter.

Robby started to move toward you too, clearly intending to follow suit, but Jack smirked and turned slightly. "Can’t let the eggs burn, can we?"

Robby glared at him but stayed put, grumbling under his breath as he gave the eggs a stir.

With a quiet laugh, you stepped over to him and tiptoed to press a kiss to his cheek. "Good morning, chef."

His grumble softened into a low chuckle, his eyes crinkling with warmth as he leaned into your kiss.

Behind you, Jack busied himself at the counter. "Coffee?"

You nodded. "Please. God, yes."

He smiled without turning around, already reaching for a mug. The air was thick with the scent of breakfast, coffee, and something much softer—something like home.

He handed you the cup a moment later, and your fingers brushed as you took it. Jack gave you a smile that was still sleep-soft and just a little shy, like he couldn't quite believe this was real.

Robby passed you a plate stacked high with eggs and a slightly lopsided pancake, and kissed your temple as you sat down. "Hope you’re hungry. I tried." Jack pinched his side lightly at the remark, smirking. Robby swatted his hand away with a glare, but he was smiling too.

"It looks delicious," you murmured, cheeks warm.

You ate shoulder to shoulder, trading quiet smiles and bites off each other's plates, content in the hush of morning. Jack poured more coffee without being asked. Robby reached over occasionally to tuck your hair behind your ear. It was nothing—and everything.

When the meal was done, you sat in the warmth of it all, sipping slowly from your mug.

Jack stretched behind you, his voice low. "We should do this again."

You looked up at him. "Breakfast?"

He smiled. "All of it."

Robby leaned back in his chair and reached for your hand. "Yeah. Us."

And for once, the thought didn’t scare you. It settled in your chest like something inevitable. Like something already yours. "I'd like that... very much..."

Jack kissed your temple again, his lips lingering a second longer, and Robby gave your hand a small squeeze. No fanfare. No big declarations. Just warmth, safety, and quiet promises in the soft morning light.

Robby nudged your plate closer. "You want the last pancake?"

You shook your head with a sleepy grin. "Only if we split it."

Jack rolled his eyes fondly and reached for a fork. "God help us, we’ve become that couple."

"Correction," Robby said, stealing a bite anyway. "That throuple."

You laughed, heart full to the brim. And as they bickered softly over syrup and coffee refills, you leaned back in your chair, wrapped in the calm after the storm—content, adored, and exactly where you belonged.

[goaskangel]

olderboyfriend!nanami headcanons

cw : age gap, 30-40's with 18+ reader, posessive/slightly toxic nanami, spanking, ccuuummmmm

olderboyfriend!nanami who comes your way, very unexpectedly. you could question why his instincts leaned towards a young lady like you, when he himself carries a sophisticated attitude with ironed suits and framed glasses. 

you’re not complaining, though!

olderboyfriend!nanami who takes his time to get you to warm up to him, knows he’s intimidating to the average person with his stoic and reserved resting face. but he knows a girl like you just needs a little more time. 

olderboyfriend!nanami knows how to schedule and work around things. always managing to take you on dates every friday, even through his tight work schedule. a dinner, a fancy local restaurant, maybe a movie or bar if he’s feeling playful. 

olderboyfriend!nanami who takes appreciation in every gesture you do for him. his sweet baby who goes out of her way to bake him a sweet treat or pick up his favorites from his dearest bakery. 

olderboyfriend!nanami who doesn’t only love you but guides you. feeling stressed out about work or university? don’t even worry—nanami’s got you all figured out. whether you need help organizing your messy set-up and schedules, or if you just need someone to talk too. he’s just always so reasonable and gives the best advice while understanding and listening to every word you say.

olderboyfriend!nanami who drives you around anytime you need. gotta run some errands? kento’s right outside, wanna go shopping? hell, his card’s already in your hands. 

olderboyfriend!nanami who can’t help but keep a hand on you, either for his own comfort or your safety, but he is very protective. taking quick glances of your surroundings as you pick through a clothing rack at your favorite store, his hands never leaving your waist or shoulders. he’s got to ensure his girl’s safety is all! and to make sure no guy your age thinks they’ve got a chance.  this goes for anywhere. taking walks with his arm around you and driving around with his hand on your thigh. especially at bars or parties, he knows how guys your age are. they don’t care about your well being, can’t take care of you like he can. obviously you’d be with somebody who’s already got it all figured out!

olderboyfriend!nanami loves domestic moments with you. his only motive to keep going throughout the week is for friday nights into saturday mornings—when he’s got you nice and comfy in his bed, or when he stays the night at your place, which is when he silently plans to get you moved in with him. 

he likes to feel you under him, or the feeling of you rubbing your face into his chest when you’re about to fall asleep. he runs his fingers through your hair, soothing himself to sleep.

NSFW

olderboyfriend!nanami who, along with being overprotective with his actions, tells you in bed. his mature hands running over and over your body as he fucks himself into you. kissing your pretty face between thrusts, and speaks, 

“can’t imagine myself without you, god—you’re all mine, y’know that, pretty? nobody’s gonna feel you and love you like i do. nobody.”

olderboyfriend!nanami who enjoys ending and starting his day with burying his cock into your sweet cunt. keeping you tightly against him as you cockwarm him into the morning. some days you’ll wake up before him, admire how his usually tamed, blonde hair runs messily with sleep. you’ll notice the morning wood he’s got going and take it as your duty to wake you precious, older man with a sweet morning treat. 

just how thankful he gets when he’s woken by your hot, young mouth around his length. his darling suckling at his creamy tip for breakfast. 

olderboyfriend!nanami who loves watching you touch yourself. maybe he’s got you twirling around in lingerie you brought for him with his card. he’ll lay you down and watch as you moan and grind your hips restlessly with your smaller fingers rubbing at your clit. teasing you, he’ll keep his greedy eyes on the way your pussy leaks with every praise he adores you with, his own hand adjusting himself through sweatpants. 

olderboyfriend!nanami who can’t himself when it comes to your skin. with his possessiveness, he just wants to mark you in any way possible. kissing your lips long enough until your lips are plump with blood and pouting from how he keeps teasing you. leaving love bites on your neck, trailing to your breasts, licking them softly to show some type of poise. sucking hickeys onto your neck, barely low enough to hide them with the collar of your work shirt. 

his favorite—when you’re acting up. get a little too comfortable with him, say something you know you’ll regret and you’ll end up over his knee. smacking handprints into your perfect body, putting you back into your place, he just can’t get enough of it. 

another favorite would be pumping load after load into your tight pussy. too many to count, thick and heavy loads of cum filling you to the brim. you could almost forget his older age with the stamina he’s got of a young man. aaa, he’s perfect, you wouldn’t take him any other way!

comments, reblogs, likes are always apperciated !

masterlist

[aewon]

cute, no?

sunghoon x fem reader genre: smut MDNI!! wc: 4157 warnings: kissing, rough sex, mouth fucking, fingering, cunnilingus, pussy slapping, mean sunghoon, inexperienced (but not virgin) reader, mention of chaewon, yunjin, hanni and karina. both sunghoon and reader are kinda weird. name calling (reader calls sunghoon a whore), multiple orgasms, nude sending. if there’s anything i missed lmk.

note: this is a repost from my other account that is now deleted @/wonkizz, also this isn’t proofread so ignore any fuck ups lol

You knew your roommate was somewhat of a whore. It never bothered you, if anything, you were jealous.

He just….snapped his fingers and girls fell at his feet.

You wished you could bag guys that easily.

Albeit you and Sunghoon rarely acknowledged each other. How did you become roommates in the first place, you may be wondering? It’s very simple. You were living with your sister, she moved out to live with her boyfriend, you needed a new roommate, Sunghoon answered your facebook ad. Simple as that.

The only rules you had were keeping the space clean and not being too loud at night.

Sunghoon definitely kept up with the first one, never having a hair out of place.

The second, well… not so much. But, it didn’t bother you. You had really good noise canceling headphones for a reason.

Though at night, you could still hear the sounds of the multitude of girls he would bring home day in and day out.

Their loud moans, whimpers, mewls, borderline screams!

You don’t know if the sex is really good, or if they’re just really sensitive.

It must be Sunghoon though, right?

But is he really that good?

Sometimes you find yourself wishing you were in those girls' places…but you know he’d never go for someone like you.

Something you haven’t mentioned, Sunghoon is like, drop dead gorgeous. You’re surprised he hasn’t been casted as a model or an idol or something.

But he’s just a struggling student like you. Clearly not struggling in the sex department though.

You’re not a virgin, but you’ve only had sex three times in your 22 years of life.

All three times were not that satisfying and personally you don’t blame yourself.

You just haven’t found that person who can really do it for you, and your own hand and toy have started to become…tired.

It’s been quite some time since you’ve felt the touch of another person. You’ve started craving, like you’re touch-starved.

Back to the topic of Sunghoon, he’s mesmerizing and you are a stereotypical nerd.

You’re not ugly, but your everyday appearance is not exactly eye-catching like what Sunghoon typically brings home.

You find yourself thinking about him more often than not. What he’s into sexually. How far he’s willing to go.

One thing about you, you’re very, very sensitive.

You’ve made yourself come 5 times in a span of 20 minutes.

Another thing about you, you’re somewhat of a freak…or maybe a major freak?

Safe to say you think about sex way more than you should, and you are not as vanilla as your friends think you are.

God, if you could just get one crack at Sunghoon, you’d be happy.

But alas, that’s just a dream.

It’s midnight on a Friday, you’ve just gotten out of the shower after doing your whole night routine.

You slip on some comfy pjs (aka an oversized tee and shorts) and make your way to the couch with a late night snack (black raspberry dark chocolate chunk ice cream) ready to indulge in the food network.

Sunghoon isn’t home, you figure he’s out at a party or with friends.

You’re digging into your pint of ice cream when the front door opens.

Sunghoon steps inside and you hear a giggle behind him.

Someone, a woman, steps in behind him.

Their lips are about to meet when her eyes find yours.

“Oh!” She exclaims, pulling away. “This must be your roommate! You didn’t tell me she was so…cute!”

This woman is gorgeous. Sleek, black hair, beautiful body that’s wrapped in a dress that fits her perfectly and her face is something out of a magazine.

She must be looking at you, with your oversized, not to mention stained, tee and shorts, glasses and ice cream in hand like you’re a joke. An utter, complete, joke.

Sunghoon barely spares a glance at you, clearing his throat and gesturing between you and this woman, “Karina, Y/N, Y/N, Karina,” he introduces you to her.

All you can do is wave before realizing the situation you’re in.

Sunghoon has once again brought a woman home and you’re clearly in the way.

You spring up from the couch, “I didn’t mean to be in the way, I'll just go to my room!”

Before either can say anything, you turn off the tv and nearly sprint to your room, ice cream still in hand.

You shut the door behind you, listening to footsteps.

You hear them making their way to Sunghoon’s room, right across from yours.

“She’s cute, no?” You hear Karina ask.

“I guess, not really my type though,” Sunghoon responds.

Ouch. You already knew it, but hearing it said aloud stings more than you thought it would.

The sex Sunghoon and Karina have that night is so loud, even your headphones can block it.

Her moans and squeals of his name infiltrate your mind into the morning, as you barely got any sleep.

You assume Karina is still in the apartment by time you get up for your early morning class.

You’re in the kitchen, preparing a cup of tea when Sunghoon comes in, rubbing his eyes.

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “I hope we didn’t disturb you too much.”

This is the first time he’s ever bothered to say this to you, not to mention the first time he’s ever acknowledged you in the morning.

You shake your head, giving him a faint smile as you push up your glasses, “Not at all.”

Once you leave the apartment, the walk to campus isn’t far.

Your best friend, Chaewon, is already waiting for you in front of your first class.

By the time you’re free, you meet up with your other friends, Yunjin and Hanni.

“What’s up with you?” Hanni asks, “You seem down.”

You sigh, “Sunghoon brought a really pretty girl home last night.”

They all raise their brows at you, “Okay,” Yunjin says, “that’s never bothered you before? Why now?”

“Because,” you start, “she called me cute.”

“She called you…cute?” Chaewon questions. “Why is that bad?”

“It’s not, but after I went back into my room, I heard them and she said to Sunghoon ‘She’s cute, no?’ and Sunghoon said ‘I guess, but she’s not really my type’. I already knew I wasn’t but hearing it said out loud stung a lot.”

Hanni rubs your shoulder.

“Well who gives a fuck what Sunghoon thinks!” Yunjin says. “You know you’re beautiful, and he’s just a man at the end of the day!”

“I know!” You groan, burying your head in your arms, “I know I shouldn’t care about his opinion or whether I’m his type or not but it’s like, when someone so attractive doesn’t see you that way it’s like, damn!”

You continue, “It’s not like I’m even into him romantically or anything like that. If anything, I’m just into him sexually, cause if you guys heard what I did you probably would be too!”

“So it’s not about romantic feelings, just sexual feelings?” Hanni asks.

You nod, “More like sexual frustration. I haven’t had sex in so long and it’s kinda killing me at this point.”

“So what if you make him acknowledge you sexually?” Chaewon implies.

“How do I do that? Like he said, I’m not even his type.”

“Well number one, acknowledge that this is just for sex. You’re not changing anything about yourself for him because at the end of the day he’s just a man and we don’t change ourselves for men, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay, then, do something to get his attention. Something sexual. Something that’ll catch his eye without changing how you are or who you are.”

You all pause for a moment, thinking of possible ideas.

Yunjin, after 5 minutes, lights up, “I’ve got it!”

After a long, somewhat agitating day of classes, you find yourself back at home.

You took another long, hot shower, did your night routine and dressed yourself in the cutest pj set you have.

What exactly was Yunjin’s plan? Take some pictures and “accidentally” send them to Sunghoon.

Now, have you ever taken nudes before? No. But you did a little research and you figure it can’t be that hard.

With your top pulled up and your tits fully exposed, you sit on your bed, front camera facing your tits.

The lighting is perfect, dim, but not too dark.

As you snap the pic, flash off, you look at it and…damn. If that’s not a good pic, you don’t know what is!

You spend the next 10 minutes debating if you should really do this. What if you just embarrass yourself completely and Sunghoon doesn’t buy into it at all?

Then you’ll never live it down.

But, you won’t know if you don’t try.

You pull up his contact, saved simply as ‘Sunghoon’

and attach the photo with the invisible ink effect and type ‘what do you think?’ before hitting send.

You nearly throw your phone across the room, but instead just slam it face down as your heart starts to beat more rapidly.

You know Sunghoon isn’t home right now, nor do you even know if he’ll be coming home tonight.

The only thing you can do is hope and pray for the best.

You exit out of the messages, not wanting him to know you’re waiting for a response and scroll through your phone trying not to panic.

After an agonizing few minutes, your phone dings.

You prepare yourself for embarrassment.

Sunghoon responded.

You’re expecting shock. An exclamation of sorts. Heck, even a question mark or two.

Instead, all you see is, ‘They’re nice.’

They’re nice.

Did he just fucking say, they’re nice?

Is that good?

You text the group chat a screenshot asking the same question.

The girls respond immediately, telling you to go forth with the plan, that that’s a good sign.

You take a deep breath. Don’t overdo it.

You: omg

You: sunghoon i’m so sorry

You: i didn’t mean to send that to you

He reads it and responds immediately.

Sunghoon: then who did you mean to send it to?

You: a friend

Sunghoon: what friend?

You: don’t worry about it! just please accept my apology :( i’m so sorry again

The text bubble indicates he’s typing, then it disappears and reappears.

Sunghoon: I’m coming home.

Sunghoon: Don’t move.

That last text makes your pussy throb in your pajama shorts.

You send the screenshot to the group chat which erupts immediately.

Chaewon: oh shitttt hehehe

Hanni: i fear you’re getting fucked into the mattress tonight

Yunjin: you mean you don’t fear lmao good luck girl

You occupy yourself for the time being, knowing Sunghoon will be home shortly.

As soon as you hear that front door open, you act nonchalantly, scrolling through your phone as if you’re not ecstatic.

Sunghoon doesn’t even bother knocking, opening your door and letting himself into your room.

His hair is slightly disheveled, like he’d been running his hand through it, and his face is stoic.

You look up at him innocently.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, knowing damn well you’re playing with fire.

Sunghoon scoffs, not saying a word as he walks to the side of your bed, grabbing your phone and throwing it to the side, not even watching where it lands.

You however do watch where it lands on the floor a few feet away and are about to protest when Sunghoon grabs you by the jaw.

“Do you like playing games you know you’re not gonna win?” He asks, voice low and condescending.

Fuck, if it doesn’t make your pussy more wet than it already is.

His grip on your jaw tightens, making you whimper. But you like the pain, and he knows that immediately.

“Take your clothes off,” he commands, finally letting go of your jaw.

You move to do as he says, albeit slowly.

Starting with your top, you lift it over your head, your tits falling out into view.

His eyes latch onto them immediately, and you take note of how he licks his lower lip.

“Shorts too,” he says.

You lay back against your pillows, lifting your hips to drag your shorts down your legs, sitting back up to then throw them in the same direction as your shirt.

Sunghoon smirks in amusement, “Of course you’re not wearing underwear. You’re a little slut aren’t you?”

Your own tongue pokes out to wet your lips and you watch as his eyes follow it.

Sunghoon begins to undress himself, starting with his shirt.

His pale skin is beautiful and the expanse of his toned torso almost makes you drool.

Your eyes find his arms, taking in his biceps and how much you want them around your neck.

“Hey, eyes here,” he says, snapping you back to his own face, making you keep your focus on him.

He unbuckles his belt, taking his time undoing it, pulling it out of the loop, letting it drop to the floor.

You know for a fact that your pussy is leaking onto your bed right now, and you don’t give a damn.

Sunghoon lets his pants fall, stepping out of them.

Now, he’s just left in his boxers.

“Come here, on your knees,” he gestures to you with his finger to the floor.

You obey immediately, crawling off the bed to the floor.

The carpet of your room scratches against your knees but you don’t care.

“Take them off.”

Your hands reach for the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down gently.

His hard cock springs out, slapping against his stomach before stilling in front of you.

Sunghoon’s left hand finds the back of your head, grasping your hair tightly.

“Open your mouth, stick your tongue out.”

You do as he says, eager as he chuckles in amusement, “You must love cock don’t you?” He asks, using his right hand to slap the tip of his cock against your tongue, then spreading his pre-cum all over it as you hum in appreciation.

He quietly begins to push his cock into your mouth, before pulling back out.

You do your best to breathe through your nose, as saliva piles in your mouth and drips down the sides.

Suddenly he shoves himself into your mouth, until he hits the back of your throat, making you gag erratically.

Saliva spills out of your mouth rapidly, drilling onto the floor.

Your hands find his thighs, palms open, squeezing softly.

“I told you,” Sunghoon says, “don’t play games you’re not gonna win.”

With that, he begins to roughly thrust in and out of your mouth, getting off on how much you’re gagging.

Tears begin to pool in your eyes as spit and pre-cum mix together to coat his cock and spill everywhere.

He uses your hair as leverage, not letting up for even a second.

You keep your eyes on his as he uses you for his pleasure, even as your tears blur your vision.

“Fucking filthy,” he sneers, “I’m gonna cum in this filthy fucking mouth and you’re gonna swallow it, understood?”

You do your best to nod with his cock still in your mouth.

Suddenly he pulls out, and you gasp for air.

Sunghoon continues to pump himself, still holding onto your hair, “Stick your tongue out,” he says.

You do so and soon he’s spilling his load all over your tongue and into your mouth.

Just as he’s finished, he leans down, dropping a glob of spit on top of everything.

“Swallow.”

You do, eagerly, showing him your clean tongue once you’re done.

He pulls you up by your hair, leading you back to the bed.

Sunghoon shoves you down onto your back, pushing you so you’re up by the headboard, head on the pillows.

He’s on his knees in front of you, cock still hard.

He pushes you into a mating press, your thighs pushed against your chest, practically folded in half.

Without warning, he leans down, tongue meeting your wet, sopping pussy.

You gasp, jerking in place as you squeal from the immediate pleasure it gives you.

“Sunghoon!” You cry, eyes wide as his nonchalant ones look into yours.

“What?” He responds, as if it’s nothing.

“I’m..I’m sensitive.”

He smirks, “Then that means I get to make you come more than once.”

He goes back to your pussy, pinning you down to the bed as he eats you like a starved man.

Sunghoon groans at your taste, licking fat stripes up and down your pussy.

He takes your clit into his mouth, sucking it, flicking it with his tongue repeatedly, even having the balls to scrape it with his teeth lightly.

All this while your back arches up from the bed, hips held in place by Sunghoon’s hands.

“Oh my fucking god!” You shout into the open, knowing this would get you a one way ticket to hell.

Sunghoon then takes his tongue, fucking it into your hole.

You squeal loudly, hands gripping the bed sheets on either side of you.

More tears form in your eyes before falling like water from a faucet.

You’re full on crying from pleasure.

When you said you were sensitive, you meant it.

“Sunghoon, I’m gonna cum,” you whine,” one hand threading itself into his long locks.

He, who was occupying himself, makes his way back to your clit, licking circles around it, up and down, figure eights, anything to make you cum in his mouth.

You’re chanting to god, any god at this point.

With one final call of his name, you cum into his mouth, Sunghoon lapping it all up, swallowing it eagerly as you did to him.

Your breathing is heavy as you’re coming down from your high, noticing as Sunghoon pulls away, his lips glistening with your release on them.

He licks his lips, with that the remnants of you.

Just as you’re beginning to calm down, Sunghoon speaks, “We’re nowhere near done, sweetheart.”

Before you can say anything else, he takes his left hand and middle finger and inserts it inside you, making you gasp.

He doesn’t give you the chance to protest or adjust before he’s thrusting it in and out of you.

You throw your head back, getting used to the intrusion regardless.

Soon he’s inserting another finger, and together those fingers fuck you like no one has ever fingered you.

His fingers are long and they hit every spot inside you immediately.

Before you know it, you’re crying again in pleasure, the tears falling down your cheeks, leaving tear stains like the previous ones.

“Oh my fucking god, Sunghoon.”

“You love this, don’t you,” he says, almost like he’s mocking you.

His fingers curl, hitting that one spot inside you that has your toes curling.

Your mouth opens in shock, and stays open, refusing to close as he finger fucks you open.

Your pussy gets wetter as he goes on, more and more arousal leaking out of you onto his hand.

“You’re like a fountain,” he says, smiling almost genuinely. “You gonna cum again?”

You nod, finally closing your mouth, your lips pursing as you feel something different this time around.

“Sunghoon I think I’m gonna—”

And before you can finish, you’re squirting like an actual fountain, the liquid splashing out of you onto your sheets and Sunghoon’s hand.

You gasp, and even Sunghoon is surprised, his own mouth formed into an o.

His fingers finally slow down, pulling out of you as you finish.

Both of you are quiet for a moment before Sunghoon laughs, “That was fucking hot.”

You can’t help but blush, you’ve never squirted before.

It seems he can tell, “You’ve never done that before?”

You shake your head.

“Well, I’m glad I’m the first to do it.”

He then lands a surprisingly slap on your pussy, making you jump.

Your eyes widen, looking at him in shock and all he does is smile.

“I’m still not done with you,” he says.

“More?” You question.

“You didn’t think you’d get out of this without me fucking you, did you?”

Sunghoon pulls you towards him by your ankles, holding your legs apart before aligning himself with your hole.

You prepare yourself for his size as quickly as you can, because within seconds he’s pushing in.

You take deep breaths, “Fuck, you’re big.”

“I know,” he responds accordingly.

You pout at that, smacking his arm as he laughs at you.

He gives you time to adjust this time around, and after a moment you give him the signal to move.

You realize now he’s calmed down a little bit from before, which you don’t mind, seeing as this is a new side of him.

As he starts to piston his hips, his cock hits all the right places.

Your hands find their place on his back, your nails digging into his skin.

He groans at the feeling, liking the pain.

You mewl at the power in his thrusts, the roll of his hips.

“Fuck, yes Sunghoon.”

“You like taking my cock?”

“Love it,” you manage to get out.

“Oh you love it?” He teases you, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

“Sunghoon,” you say.

He hums, focused on fucking you into the mattress.

You take his hand, bringing it up and wrapping it around your throat.

He looks into your eyes, his own widen for a moment before he bites his lip.

He presses down on the sides of your throat, just enough to wind you slightly.

“Dirty fucking girl.”

He keeps his hand there, steady pressure, making you feel closer and closer to cumming again.

“You gonna cum on my cock this time?” Sunghoon asks.

“Yes, yes, Sunghoon! Want you to cum in me!”

Sunghoon steadies himself, and uses his other hand to press on the bulge in your tummy.

“Cum for me, Y/N.”

You feel the band in your stomach snap for the third time tonight, cumming all around Sunghoon’s cock as you feel him cum inside you, pumping you full.

As his thrusts start to slow down and finally come to a stop, he unwraps his hand from your throat and just looks at you.

Your face, adorned by your glasses. Your red, tear stained cheeks. You look up at him, blinking a few times in succession, “What?”

Sunghoon leans down and for the first time, kisses you.

You kiss him back, albeit somewhat hesitantly.

As you pull away, he looks like there’s something on his mind.

You want to ask what it is, but choose not to.

After using the bathroom, Sunghoon helps you change your sheets and you both redress.

You figure he’s going to go back to his room, but he surprises you as he slides into your bed beside you.

Neither of you says anything for a few minutes, and then, Sunghoon speaks, “So, be honest with me. Who was that picture meant for?”

You take a deep breath, gunning between telling a lie and the truth. The truth eventually wins the battle.

“The truth is, it wasn’t meant for anyone. I sent it to you on purpose,” you say.

Sunghoon’s brows furrow, “But you said it was an accident?”

“Yeah, I lied. The truth is the other night, when you had Karina over I heard you tell her I’m not your type.”

Sunghoon starts to stutter out an excuse, “I didn’t mean—”

“I know what you meant, Sunghoon,” you say, cutting him off. “I won’t lie and say it didn’t sting but at the end of the day I already knew I wasn’t your type. The reality is I kinda just wanted you in my bed so I devised a plan with my friends to make you see me differently and well… it obviously worked.”

Sunghoon is quiet, until he’s not.

You expect him to be weirded out, curse you out and call you names. But instead, he starts laughing.

“That is the craziest shit I’ve ever heard and yet…I kinda like it.”

You look at him to find him already staring at you.

“You’re not weirded out?”

He shakes his head, “I’m oddly flattered. Maybe that’s weird but I guess that makes us both weird then.”

Suddenly, he’s shifting so he’s on top of you, caging you underneath him.

You don’t know what to do with your hands, so you, albeit somewhat awkwardly, place them on his shoulders.

“Is it safe to say you fascinate me now?” Sunghoon asks, leaning down, placing slow, deliberate kisses on your neck and shoulder.

You naturally turn your head to give him more access, “I guess not. I’ve never had someone tell me I fascinate them.”

Sunghoon’s kisses trail upwards until his lips meet yours in another fiery kiss.

Breaking away after a while, he descends until his mouth is adjacent to your clothed pussy.

“Sunghoon,” you interrupt, “we just changed the sheets.”

He looks up at you, a twinkle in his eye, “We can change them again.”

AEWON 2025

[fleuryuns]

presenting a fic by @FLEURYUNS

um... who is this?

IN WHICH after being dared to prank call one of the hottest sophomores on campus pretending to be a woman he met at a party, you're unexpectedly roped into the life of lee heeseung as you're forced to keep up the role.

PAIRING     ⟡     player!heeseung x fem!reader

UNIVERSE     ⨯     college/uni au

WARNINGS     ⟡     fake dating au, but was it ever really fake?, prank calls, hot boy!heeseung except he’s actually a loser, one (1) suggestive scene, cursing, smidge of angst, jay’s highkey an asshole, depictions of smoking, depictions of drinking and doing drugs

WORD COUNT     ⨯     16.7k

AUTHOR'S NOTE     . . .     inspired by the one and only, francesca stugot

Contrary to popular belief, Truth or Dare doesn't stop being fun after middle school. If anything, with higher stakes and getting rid of the PG-13 limitations, the game only becomes more intense as you get older.

Or so that was how you explained it to your friends in hopes to convince them to play a few rounds instead of studying for your midterms. But hey, it worked.

You laugh and clap your hands as you watch Yunjin complete her dare. She's surprisingly good at juggling, if you ignore the two failed attempts splattered on the floor. Why did Ryujin have to suggest using eggs of all things is beyond you.

"Okay, okay!" Yunjin catches the last few eggs. "I'm done, my hands are covered in yolk. Ew!"

The other girls echo her cries as she runs off to the bathroom to clean it off.

"It's Y/N's turn!" Ryujin calls out. You playfully glare at her from your side, pretending as if you haven't been impatiently waiting for your turn since the last round.

You hear Yunjin agree from afar. She asks you the impending question: "Truth or Dare?"

"Dare."

"Ooh, I've got a good one~" Her sing-songy tone is never a good sign, but you're too giddy to care, even with the girls ooh-ing and ahh-ing at their own recognition of it.

When she finally comes back, her hands free from eggshells and yolk, all eyes are on her. She looks from side to side for dramatic effect. Yunjin leans in. So does everyone else. She opens her mouth as if she'll start to speak, but nothing comes out before she closes it again with a teasing smile. Everyone groans.

"Out with it!" You say, throwing your arms up for emphasis.

She laughs. "I dare you to prank call Lee Heeseung acting as if you're some girl he met at the party last Friday."

Your face drops.

The girls cheer.

"Oh my god!" You hear Yizhuo yell. "You're a genius!"

"I didn't even go, though," you protest.

Yunjin shrugs. "Makes it even better." Just as you're about to rebut, she raises a finger and interrupts. "Ah! And don't say you don't have his number 'cause I know you used to send him the notes when he missed class last semester." She holds up your phone tauntingly, and you can't help but wonder when she took it away from the speaker, where it was paired to your playlist.

Curse her and her impeccable memory.

"Urgh, fine!" You give in, extending your hand for your phone.

As you type away your passcode and scroll to find the phone app, you reluctantly punch in his name (simply saved as "Lee Heeseung (SNU)" — nothing crazy!) The girls giggle to themselves about the heartthrob since high school.

Everyone and their mother knows about Heeseung. Almost everyone and their mother has been with Heeseung. Yourself excluded, obviously. And, unfortunately for them, excluding most of the girls here, too.

Yizhuo had the grace to spend a night with him and “came back a woman”. (Her words.)

Now, she's scooting closer to you, leaning her ear near the phone you're bringing to your ear.

It rings. Ring!

Once. Ring!

Twice.

"What if he doesn't—"

"Hello," a groggy tone questions from the other side of the line.

The girls all fail to cover their squeals.

Heeseung makes a confused noise. "Um... Who is this?"

"Uh...." Your eyes widen. You didn't really think this far ahead, hoping deep down that he wouldn't pick up at all. Eyeing Yunjin, screaming "Help Me!" with your expression. "This is... Hana..."

"Hana?"

"Kang. Kang Hana," you clarified. "We met at the, uh, party last Friday. At Jay's."

There's a moment of silence through the phone. Then some shuffling noises from his side. You sit patiently waiting for his reaction.

"Kang Hana," he repeats slowly. You hum to him.

"Yeah, we had a good time together, didn't we?"

He pauses. "I guess? Can you remind me?"

You begin to tell a tale about your encounter, barely keeping track of the details, letting your imagination run wild, stopping to listen to Heeseung hum in hesitant confusion.

Kang Hana arrived last out of all guests, immediately running to the kitchen for her first drink of the night. Then, she found herself swaying to the music on the living room dance floor, where she met Lee Heeseung. He had his arms placed respectfully on her hips, letting her guide his moves. He whispered that they should get out of there. She agreed.

They spent an hour or two engaging in conversation about anything and everything on the front patio, ignoring the smokers around the corner.

Hana not only arrived late, but also had to leave early. And so, she left Heeseung stranded, left to drink his grief away in hopes of forgetting all about her.

Yizhuo leans a little too far, enjoying the story too much, her head knocking over your hand, making you both tip to the side. You let out a squeal into the phone.

"Woah!" Heeseung yelps, pulling his phone away from his ear. Or you suppose, hearing his voice fade a little in the distance. With the phone away from him, it's able to pick up on the surrounding sounds better, and you realize he isn't alone either.

"Who is it?" You hear from the phone. The voice sounds familiar and you can almost make it out. Must either be Sunghoon or Jay, his best friends, you assume.

Heeseung doesn't miss a beat before responding, "Y/N."

Your heart does a flip. Yunjin's eyes widen. Ryujin chokes on the juice box she'd been sipping on. Yizhuo is still lying on the floor, only her mouth is significantly more agape.

"You knew it was me?"

He chuckled. "Obviously," he says matter of factly. Heat rises to your cheeks. "Took me a second, I'm a little tipsy, haha."

"Oh." Your eyes dart to the girls again. "Am I interrupting?"

"You're never a bother, babe."

Babe? "Huh," you let out unintentionally.

The girls furrow their brows one by one. Although they probably can't hear every word, they can clearly hear the weird turn this conversation has taken.

"Are you with the girls?"

You shake your head in confusion. "Um, yeah, I am." You're still trying to figure out what he meant by the pet name.

"I don't want to keep you if you're having fun." The smile on his face is clear as day in his flirty tone. "Text me later though, okay?"

"Okay?" Slowly, you pull the phone down and end the call. The second it hits your lap, it buzzes again.

Ping! New message!

이희승 (SNU) Kang Hana? 23:04

"What was that about?" Ryujin asks.

You don't respond yet. Focusing on the typing bubbles at the bottom of yours and Heeseung's no-longer-blank messenger.

이희승 (SNU) ik you weren't at Jay's last week 23:04

ME and i know you don't call random people 'babe' ?? 23:05 

이희승 (SNU) can i call you later? 23:05

ME i wasn't lying when i said i'm with my friends 23:05

ME tomorrow? 23:06

이희승 (SNU) let's meet up at the café on campus 23:07

"Hello, hello, Earth to Y/N?" Your head snaps up as you click off your phone. Yunjin waves her hand dramatically across your face to catch your attention. Ironically, it works. "You're still in there? Or did Hana take over?”

You blink up at her, then offer a small smile. “Sorry, that was weird,” you laugh. They all look at you expectantly, as if waiting for you to explain or give more details, but you’re not sure what to give them. “Alright, who’s next?”

You manage to drift the topic away from Heeseung and Kang Hana’s encounter. Yizhuo nearly fails her own dare, but succeeds in getting the neighbours number. After Ryujin answers her Truth (”If you had to kiss any of the girls in this room, who would it be?” “Well, I already have, but I’d say Y/N.”), you all decide to call it a night.

Ryujin and Yizhuo head out together; their rooms in the same dorm-building across the road. Meanwhile Yunjin begs to stay the night, opting to sleep on the floor because she can’t be bothered to pay for a cab ride to her apartment off campus.

Your thoughts keep coming back to Heeseung calling you babe, for some reason. Rubbing at your cheeks to snap yourself out of it, you sigh when you realize that it doesn’t do anything to help the blush that spreads further up your cheekbones to the tips of your ears the more you think about him.

Monday mornings have a bad reputation, and you completely understand why.

The sunlight creeps through a slip in your curtains and shines right in your eyes as you startle awake from a dream starring your party-animal alias and the campus heartthrob. Checking the time, you groan as the bright numbers ‘06:27’ glare back at you.

Your promise to a rendez-vous last night pushes you up and out of bed. You carefully side-step to not wake Yunjin, who’s still sprawled out on the floor.

You grab yourself some cereal and a cold glass of orange juice to fuel yourself before hopping into the shower. When you get out, it’s 6:44, a minute before your alarm rings loudly. You’re convinced everyone on this floor can hear it, but luckily you haven't gotten any complaints thus far.

Yunjin stirs finally. “Dude…”

“Wakey wakey, Sunshine,” you tell her, standing above her with a cheesy smile. “I have cereal and oatmeal.”

She rubs at her eyes, still laced with tiredness. “I’ll just grab something at the café after classes. I should get going, anyway.”

It doesn't take long for Yunjin to get dressed and leave the room promptly. She’s spent so many nights at your dorm that you took the time to clear up some space in the drawer for her stuff so she doesn’t need to rush out before even the sun’s awake.

When you’re left alone in your room, you pull out your phone again, the screen already opening into the chat room you visited last night.

ME what time do your classes end? just wanna know when i should get to the café 06:59

You wait. And wait. And wait some more for his response. You notice he hasn't even been online since you sent your message and decide to give him some more time.

Although he definitely has classes today, you assume, he might not be as much of an early riser like yourself.

In the meantime, you busy yourself with getting ready for your own classes. You pack your bag with all its supplies, checking your phone every so often, hoping to see it light up with a notification.

Ping!

All you can think is, “Finally,” but unfortunately when you pick it up, the notification reads: @jenaissante has made a new post!

“What am I doing?” you ask yourself out loud.

Since when do you sit and stare at your phone in hopes that some guy is going to answer you? How embarrassing.

You shake it off, grab your bag, and head out to your first class.

Walking down the comfortably silent hallways of your dorm building makes you think that out of everyone, you might be the only one awake. However, you stand corrected as you’re greeted with a door almost slamming you in the face.

Coincidentally, as the owner of said door says, “I’m so sorry!” and you respond, “It’s okay! I’m okay!” your phone buzzes in your pocket.

Nearly making your bag topple out of your hands as you reach for it, your shoulders relax when you see who the message is from:

이희승 (SNU) i hate mondays 07:33

You bid your goodbyes to the door-slammer.

ME good morning to you too 07:33 

이희승 (SNU) 😑😑 07:34

이희승 (SNU) i don’t have classes today. when do yours end? 07:34

ME no classes and yet you're awake so early? i'm impressed lee heeseung 07:36

ME i have my 8AM that ends at 10, then a three hour gap until my next class 07:36

이희승 (SNU) oof three hours 07:36

ME i’m on campus so it's not too bad tbh 07:37

이희승 (SNU) 10 o’clock it is? 07:39

ME sounds good 07:40

You shut off your phone and look up to realize you've made it to the building.

You find it weird how easily you’re already getting distracted by Heeseung, even though you’ve barely interacted, much less talked in person since last semester when you shared a class.

Even then, neither of you ran in the same groups, so your conversations were very limited to assignments and bad-talking the professor.

Of course, you’ve heard a lot about him, but none of it ever involved you. At most Yizhuo was being very descriptive about her night with him, though even then—especially then—you didn't pay it or him much attention.

Deciding to push him out of your mind entirely, you pull out your laptop and set up your notes, waiting for the professor to arrive and start class.

After two long hours, you’re dismissed from class. You tell your professor goodbye and head for the door, but come to a stop when you see a familiar figure leaning against the glass on the other side. Taking quicker steps to come around, you meet face to face with Lee Heeseung.

“Hi,” he says calmly.

“What are you doing here?”

His smile falters. “I came to pick you up.”

Your eyes dart to both sides of the hallway, as if waiting for Yunjin or someone to pop out. “How did you know this is where my class is?”

For the first time in your life, you watch Heeseung lose his cool composure. He stumbles over his words before clarifying, “I asked around.”

You try not to think too hard on it, eyeing him suspiciously before humming. His shoulders relax and he claps his hands together before pivoting toward the stairwell.

“Shall we?” He turns to you, extending his arms as if he’s some royal guard leading the crown princess into a carriage.

“Yes, we shall.” You play along because what the heck. And his smile is worth it.

The two of you make your way down to the café just across campus, not really talking on your way there, but staying close. It’s not as if some sort of secret operation is going down, so neither of you make a move to act like you don't know each other.

Come to think of it, you really don't know what's the purpose of all the theatrics. He even opens the door for you when you get there. Has he always been a gentleman?

From what you’ve heard, Heeseung is a player through and through. Typical, textbook heartthrob who makes people fall for him, toys around with that idea, and then leaves them to pick themselves up. Or, he’ll spend one magical night with a random hookup he meets at one of the million parties his rich friends throw every weekend, only to leave them in the dirt in the morning.

(Literally. Stories went around about this one girl he hooked up with outside. She woke up in Sunghoon’s backyard with only her bra and panties on. Or so you’ve heard.)

He leads you to the counter where the barista takes your order quickly. Just as you're about to reach into your bag for your wallet, Heeseung waves his hand in front of you. “Don’t worry about it,” he says before taking out his card and paying before you can reply.

“Thanks.” You try to come up with something better, but run short. “I’ll pay next time,” you say before you can stop yourself.

“Next time,” he says with an unreadable tone.

You want to reply, but nothing comes out. Instead, your eyes drift back to the barista. You watch him prepare your drinks and you silently pray that he goes faster so you can move on.

Luckily, he listens. “Alright, one iced caffe latte with vanilla syrup, and one dark chocolate mocha for the couple.” The man makes a dramatic turn with the drinks, adding a theatrical wave of his hand to you two.

“Oh, we’re not—”

“Thank you,” Heeseung replies with a smile. He takes a hold of both drinks and motions for you to lead him to a table.

And so you do.

“So,” he says as he sits down. “Kang Hana—” A wink. Your drink is suddenly very interesting. “—I have a proposal for you.”

“Proposal,” you question, raising your cup along with your brow. You take a sip and set it back down. “Go on.”

He takes his own sip. For a moment, you watch him appreciate the taste. He closes his eyes for a fraction of a second in satisfaction, traces of the drink left on his lips. It takes everything in you not to reach over and wipe it yourself. So, you hand him a napkin.

He thanks you before proceeding. “Okay, fine, it's more of an ask rather than a proposal because you won’t technically—” He adds air quotes. “—be gaining anything out of this.”

Now you’re very curious. You let him speak.

“There’s this girl…” he starts. His eyes drift away to the other tables, almost trying to deduce if anyone would want to eavesdrop and spread gossip of what he says next. “I really like her.”

Oh god. You’ve heard this before. Usually it only happens by boy best friends, but basically complete strangers work too, you guess. You prepare yourself.

“And, I just don’t know how to tell her—”

“Listen, Heeseung,” you cut him off. “We barely know each other. I don’t think you’re really thinking this through. How can you even trust your feelings when you barely know me?”

He blinks at you. “What?”

Your heart drops. “You’re not confessing to me.”

Heeseung lets out a short breathy laugh. He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck and answers. “No… Not exactly.”

“Oh my god, this is so embarrassing.” You let your head drop into the palms of your hands, but when you feel his hand on your arm, you snap your head up.

He rapidly retracts his hand of reassurance and lets it float above your arm for a second. “No, no, that’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed,” he assures you, only with his hand now in his lap. “I’m actually a little embarrassed about what I’m trying to ask you—If you’re up for it!”

“Can’t be more embarrassing than I feel right now,” you reply between small sips of your drink.

“Can we date? Wait, this isn't a confession, I meant like can we fake date? Like date, but not actually date. Not that that would be an awful thing to do! I just like this girl and…” His eyes are comically large as he rambles the same reformulated question. The embarrassment slips away as you watch his cheeks redden. “If you’re comfortable,” he finishes more quietly.

You take a moment, both to see if he’s really done, but also to consider your options. “Why?”

“Right.” He nods. “So, as I was saying… There’s this girl I like, and I want to get closer to her and ask her out, but we’ve talked before and she hates that I’m—” More air quotes. “—A player.”

You raise your brow at his words. “Put down the air quotes, then we’ll be on the same page.”

He rolls his eyes imperturbably. “You know what I mean…”

“How would fake dating help you start actually dating? Sounds counterproductive ‘cause doesn't that just make you unavailable?”

“I want to prove to her that I’m more than just—” He waves his arms around to search for the word. “—more than just some guy that goes from girl to girl as if nothing.”

You nod. “But… Isn’t this, kinda, lying? Since you haven't actually been in a long term relationship.”

“I mean, yeah, if you think about it like that.” He takes a sip of his drink, and when his lips part from the straw, you notice he bite it as he drank. You shake your head. “I’m just showing her that I’m capable of being in a long term relationship. I’m a serious guy looking for something serious.”

The snort you let out is entirely accidental. He looks faux-offended as he wipes off the drops of your drink that fell out of your cup. “Sorry,” you say, also wiping your arm. “You’re a serious guy. For sure, for sure.”

“I am,” he protests. “I take things very seriously. Like this rendez-vous. I’m normally still in bed at this time.”

This catches your attention. “Wait, why did you get up so early though? We didn't have a set time ready, you could've slept in.”

He shrugs timidly. “I knew you mostly take morning classes, so I wanted to be up when you were…” His sentence goes quieter by the end of it, with no help from him reaching for another sip of his drink, which is practically empty at this point, so the tension in the air only grows thicker with the ear-piercing sounds of him drinking air through a straw.

“Oh,” you say slowly. “I stand corrected.”

He nods.

You bite your lip out of habit. “So, shouldn't we discuss the, like, rules to this… Scheme?”

“Wait, you’re gonna do it?” He seems genuinely surprised. And cutely excited.

“Yeah,” you shrug, trying to act nonchalant. “What’s there to lose, I guess. But—” You raise a hand. “We need to figure out these ground rules and I need to get something out of this.”

He agrees easily. And you settle on asking him to put in a good word to one of his friends, Jay, who happens to be the son of the man who owns one of the most respected law firms in the country—you want in on it.

“So, you’re going to be a lawyer?”

Heat rises to your cheeks bashfully. “Yeah, it’s always been my passion.”

Heeseung’s eyes widen in astonishment. “Does that mean I should be more careful with how we set this up? Should we sign a contract to make it official?”

You laugh. “Do you have a printer? We could write one up if you want.”

He plays along with the joke, which eventually leads to him opening his notes app and writing down the rules you settle on together:

You cannot tell ANYONE that this is a set-up. If [REDACTED] finds out it’s a lie, how is Heeseung supposed to find love 💔

Stick to the same story: We met last semester and have been keeping it lowkey. We got together during the break.

Hang out in public at least twice a week. (Heeseung will make plans to make sure his crush will see them.)

Hand holding is a must while out together.

No kissing. Not on the cheek, and not on the lips.

Y/N has to attend all some do you want to make a good impression or not FINE all of Jay’s parties. 

Fake relationship must last AT LEAST two months. Further discussion of whether or not the (FAKE) relationship continues will take place then.

“Now…”

“What’s wrong?”

You watch Heeseung look from right to left, reaching down into his pockets for something, but he comes up with nothing. “How are you going to sign it?”

As unexpected as it is, you have to laugh. “Here, let me,” you respond between laughs, reaching out for his phone, which he hands you swiftly.

At the bottom of the page, you add:

I, Y/N L/N, accept these terms and conditions.

“Your turn.”

And he does the same with his own name.

I, Lee Heeseung, accept these terms and conditions.

“Perfect, so it’s settled.” He claps unceremoniously. “Here’s to the start of Kang Hana and Lee Heeseung’s fake relationship.”

He raises his cup toward you, and you get the memo to clink! your own against his. It’s silly considering they’re plastic cups that make nothing but a wsh! sound when bumped together, but the sentiment is there.

You spend a few more minutes sitting together in silence as you finish your drink.

You’re not sure why Heeseung hasn't left yet. Your business together is done for now, and he’s long finished with his own drink. You decide, however, that you’re glad he stayed.

As you’re stuck in thought, you don't notice that you're staring. You don't see the sly smile that creeps on his lips. And you certainly don't realize Yunjin is watching this scene go down from behind the window.

The front door’s bell snaps you out of your trance, when you finally feel the eye contact you're making with Heeseung. You pull your eyes away shyly, sipping on your drink until it bottoms out.

Unbeknownst to you, Yunjin makes her over to you and Heeseung with a confused expression painted over her features.

“Y/N,” she says. Your eyes widen at your friend leaning over the table to look at the two of you. “What’s going on here?” She teasingly points between you and Heeseung, wiggling her eyebrows all-knowingly.

Suddenly, you forget all your words.

Luckily, Heeseung smoothly takes the lead, already playing his role. “We’re on a date.”

This takes Yunjin by surprise, if her gasp paired with widened eyes says anything. “A date?”

“Yeah,” he says, drawing out the syllable. He looks at you with telling eyes, as if asking if you want to add on. You slightly shake your head only for him to see. “We were actually just finishing up. Right?”

Your cue. “Right, yeah.” You clear your throat awkwardly.

Yunjin raises her hands defensively. “Well, I don’t want to interrupt any more than I already have… So, you two have fun….” She leans over to whisper into your ear. Heeseung raises a brow from his side, but turns away to pretend he isn’t listening to it. “You’ll have to tell me all about this later.”

She bids you goodbye and makes her way to the counter, making no effort in acting as if she’s not staring at your table, watching your every move, as if to assess the situation.

Your hand comes up to the side of your face to subtly cover your mouth from her prying eyes. “We should really get out of here.”

Heeseung nods. “Slowly, we don’t want her to think anything.”

“Is it really so important to keep it from my best friend, though?”

“Yes!” Heeseung says in a whisper-yell. He smiles over to Yunjin who’s blissfully unaware of his outburst, probably thinking the two of you are joking around. Turning back to you, his voice lowers. “We can’t let anyone know the truth, not right now.”

You wonder what you’re getting yourself into now that it’s in play.

He ends up walking you back to your dorm, making his way into the building and all the way to your floor, walking you to your door, even after you insist he doesn’t have to. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t make sure you got back safely?”

“Fake-boyfriend,” you point out.

He nods. “Fake.”

While opening the door, you have a weird urge to ask if he wants to stay for a little. You brush off the feeling and turn back to him. “See you…” You stray, not really sure when you’ll see each other.

“Tomorrow,” he finishes. “For our first official date. Fake date.”

You nod your head, and that’s it. He walks backward into the hall, waving to you, before he turns to watch where he’s going. You only wave back when his back is turned.

Too caught up in whatever the hell you’ve agreed on, you spend the rest of the day burying yourself in studies. Midterms are around the corner, so may as well get some work done now. You also can’t bear to spend another minute with Heeseung’s stupidly pretty face, and smile, and everything stuck in your head.

Throughout the afternoon, then into the evening, your phone buzzes over and over again. You don’t even bother checking in fear that it’s Heeseung.

When you head off to bed, you quickly scroll away from your notifications and open Yunjin’s chat, where you see she’s been spamming you pretty much until you passed out. You note the time and feel the relief wash over you as you realize she must already be asleep by now. You start typing away.

ME i’ll tell you everything tmrw 01:47

ME meet me at the quad in the morning 01:47

As opposed to Monday mornings, Tuesdays have a different, much more optimistic air. It’s as if everyone’s realized that maybe this week won’t be so bad, so might as well put on a smile before heading to classes.

You don’t have early classes today, so you head down to the quad as promised, a knot forming in your stomach on your way.

There’s nothing you hate more than keeping things from your friends, especially Yunjin. Trust is something you really value in your friendship, as you’re both very open with each other, this feels like breaking it, even though it isn’t necessarily a bad lie to tell.

Taking a deep breath, you convince yourself that it’s for a good cause and she’ll understand once you tell her the truth.

You’re surprised not only by the fact that Yunjin is already sitting at one of the tables, wide awake and ready to hear your tale, but also the fact that she is with company: Yizhuo and Ryujin, respectively.

“Well, well, well,” she says with jokingly menacing crossed arms. She adds to the character a dubious expression. “What do we have here? Lee Heeseung’s girlfriend?”

Yizhuo laughs. “Are you serious? When were you going to tell us?”

From the other side of the table, Ryujin adds on. “Yeah, this seems like a pretty big deal!”

You sit down next to Ryujin, facing Yunjin’s excitedly curious eyes. She leans over the table and grabs your hands. “Tell. Us. Everything,” she enunciates every word for emphasis.

“Um,” you start oh-so confidently. You think back to the contract you “signed” and the storyline you decided with Heeseung. “I’ve been, kinda, seeing Heeseung since October—”

“October!?” Yizhuo yells. “Why’ve you been keeping this from us?!”

“We wanted to keep it lowkey before we decided if we were really serious about this.” The lies slip off your tongue easily, but they leave a bitter aftertaste. “I was talking with him about telling you guys, at least, right when Yunjin walked in on us.”

Ryujin raises a brow. “Walked in on you? Were you…?”

You slap her arm playfully. “Nothing like that, nothing like that! I meant at the café yesterday.”

“We’ve never even seen you two together… How lowkey were you keeping it?”

Yunjin looks at you expectantly. You avoid direct eye contact, afraid she’d be able to see the truth through your eyes. “We text a lot and facetime pretty much every night,” you explain, hoping it’s convincing. “And he’d sometimes come over, but we always made sure none of you would find out.” You make sure to slip in an apology at the end of the statement.

Yizhuo’s the one to wave her arm and deny your apology. “Girl, you got yourself a man, how could we be mad at you?” Her eyes widen in realization. “The prank call, oh my God!”

“Yeah, that took some explaining… But he thought Kang Hana was pretty funny.”

“Speak of the devil,” Yunjin teases, nodding her head behind you.

You turn around and lo and behold is Lee Heeseung himself, followed by Park Sunghoon and Park Jay. If this were a 90s romcom scene, their walk would be in slowmo, the camera would pan to girls and boys fanning themselves as they walk by, some would be fainting in their path. Sunghoon would have to step over someone’s unconscious body, Jay would pick a rose from the bush and hand it to one of his followers and they would blush until their whole face is as red as a tomato.

Instead, they’re walking at a regular pace, but you notice the way seems to run through their hair perfectly. That’s what you get when you’re jaw-droppingly attractive, you think. And then you furrow your brows at your thoughts.

When the boys get closer, Heeseung smiles. “Hi, you.”

“Hi,” you say in return. Your heart beats faster.

“So,” Jay, the one on his left, says. “You’re Y/N.”

You nod. “Nice to meet you—”

“Y’know, it’s funny ‘cause Heeseung never mentioned you?” The question throws you off, more than the smile he has plastered on his face. “Keeping it hidden from us like we’re Dispatch, or something.”

Heeseung places his hand on Jay’s shoulder, taking the lead. He sends you a reassuring look before speaking. “It was my idea, mostly,” he explains. “Let’s not take it out on my girl.”

My girl. You smile shyly.

Addressing your friends, Heeseung smiles politely. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“You too,” Ryujin says.

“You better be treating her right,” Yunjin says teasingly, but with a touch of seriousness, if you know her right.

Heeseung raises his arms defensively. “She’s the one to decide on that front.”

You laugh. He’s really good at this. “Don’t worry guys, he’s been good to me.”

The two of you share a moment in silence, just watching each other. Heeseung’s the first to break it, not necessarily looking away, but ending your silent conversation. “I take it you dressed for our date, right?”

You blink at him in confusion. “Where are we going?”

“So you really didn't see my text?” He pouts. You’re almost convinced he means it. Wow, I’m going to have to step up my game.

“Sorry, I was really busy studying, I shut off my phone for the day after you left.”

He tuts at you jokingly. “Well, I guess it’ll have to be a surprise.” He extends his arm and offers you his hand. Automatically, you take a hold of it, letting him pull you up in the process. Heeseung turns to your friends and smiles politely. “Again, it was nice to officially meet you all, I’ve heard so much. And—” Facing his friends, he says: “I’ll text you later.”

Then, you’re off, holding hands as he leads you to the parking lot.

The car ride isn’t too long, luckily. You find yourself anticipating what Heeseung has planned, only for you to crush that anticipation when you remember what this is all for.

Her, not you.

Although, you still don’t know who she is.

“Will you ever tell me who this girl is?” you ask as he takes another turn, arriving in a parking lot. Finally in view, you realize you’re at Plus One Games as you watch the big, bold glowing sign. “The arcade?”

“She works here,” he says, promptly ignoring your first question. He pops the keys out of the ignition and turns to you. “Are you ready?”

You hum and the two of you make your way to the comically large front doors. He holds it open, and you thank him as you walk past him, staring in awe at the decor.

Plus One Games is known for its grandeur in the gaming world. You didn’t grow up in these areas, but you’ve heard all about it. It’s expensive and you wonder how Heeseung is able to afford it—He must really like this girl.

The lobby is decorated like a gameboard, the stands where the employees greet the customers resembling game pieces, meanwhile there are signs pointing in every direction to where you may want to go, which look like signs straight out of a Super Mario Bros game.

Unbeknownst to you, you begin to wander while you’re looking at the set-up of the entrance, entranced by the level and precision of the design. Heeseung notices, however, and grabs ahold of your hand, spinning you on your heels and leading you to the cloakroom.

“Can’t let you get lost,” he teases, his head nodding to your hand in his which he raises to eye level.

You flush in your spot, unable to get yourself to pull your hand away.

After depositing your coats and changing into the shoes the staff hand the two of you by the door, you’re quick to let Heeseung guide you through the games and stations. He clearly has a map set up in his mind by the way he easily glides through the place, your hand still tightly in his hold.

He brings the both of you to the bumper cars first, wearing a cheeky grin as he handsomely gestures for you to step into the rink before him. To play along, you bow gratefully like an heiress guided by her guard. He laughs, placing a hand by your lower back to help direct you.

How could someone forget how fun bumper cars are? Because now you’re reminded of the joys of ramming your rubber-ringed play car into the people around you. Luckily, it’s not too crowded, so you have plenty of room to strategically avoid Heeseung’s attempts to knock you over, only to turn around and get him instead.

You’re full of laughter, and so is he. In fact, his face is completely red and you can only assume that yours is a similar shade.

Your laughter doesn’t even die down when the dispiriting buzzer sounds in the mini-arena, prompting the cars to stop in their place and the employee to safely instruct you and the other customers on how to get out.

“So, where to next?” Your smile transcends into your words, but you don’t care enough to be self-conscious about it.

Heeseung pretends to be in deep thought, plastering a dramatic pout of curiosity. “Where to… Where to…” he repeats. He lifts a finger in the air in perfect timing with the music blaring through the speakers above. You laugh at the movement. “Let’s try to win some prizes, hm?”

You assume this is probably some kind of way for him to say that the girl he likes is working the counter. Either way, you agree.

“Ice ball,” he suggests.

“I’ll have you know—” You flick your hair behind your shoulder for character. “—I’m kind of a pro at this.”

He raises his brow. “Oh, are you?”

Instead of responding, you grab the keycard and swipe it across the gamepad, watching as the game’s sign lights up as it starts up. Balls roll out from the dispenser and you grab your first one. You pretend to give it a kiss before rolling it up.

It does not go on.

Heeseung laughs.

You clear your throat and try again. The second does not go in.

Nor does the third. Or the fourth.

“Maybe I should try,” Heeseung proposes playfully.

“Fine,” you grumble, though not seriously. You go on to say he has no shot, the game is rigged and—

His first try goes in.

And his second. Then his third.

The game rings “Winner! Winner!” and tickets begin pouring out of the gamepad.

Heeseung ends up beating you in every game you play, always winning a ridiculous amount of tickets or a silly prize that comes with it. Pinball, mini-basketball, Spin-It-To-Win-It, you name it. He even beats the claw machine which is famously rigged in these kinds of places. You suggested it just to see Heeseung lose, yet here he is flaunting his little stuffed turtle he pulled out of it.

He waves the turtle in your face and you swat it away from you. “Aw, c’mon, Y/N, you don’t want Mr. Turtle?”

“You named him Mr. Turtle,” you deadpan.

He smiles cheekily. “It’s a fitting name.” He then takes your hand by the wrist, flipping it over so your open palm faces upward. Gently, Heeseung places Mr. Turtle into your hand, closing your fingers around it. “Here, you can have him.”

As much as you want to keep up your stingy role of a sore loser and throw it back at him, you shyly thank Heeseung for the gesture and place Mr. Turtle comfortably against your bag, so he can look out into the world without you needing to worry about him falling off because he’s safely attached to the strap.

After a match of laser tag—which you end up winning with Heeseung because you were against another couple—a couple of PEOPLE!—and then racing up to the top of the rock climbing wall, you grab a couple slices of pizza together and call it a day.

The pizza is greasy and frankly a little gross, you’re convinced it’s leftovers from yesterday, but it’s just what you need.

Heeseung comes back to the table with two bottles of pop. “Which one?” He raises both for you to see your options. You point to the red one, probably some off-brand strawberry or raspberry flavoured soda, and he passes it to you.

Chugging down the mystery drink, you find yourself content with the day's events.

When you get to the car, Heeseung holds the door open for you once again. You thank him quietly, getting in at the same time. You force your head down to stop yourself from watching as he makes his way around to his side.

It’s silent for a moment as he turns on the ignition and pulls out of the parking spot. The way he places his hand against the back of your seat, his arm in full view, makes your heart stutter. You take a second to compose yourself.

“So.” You look up at Heeseung with telling eyes and a teasing smile. “Did you see her?”

His mouth opens in a mute ‘ah,’ but he shakes his head, keeping his gaze on the road ahead. “I guess she wasn’t working today.”

And honestly, you can’t even be mad about it because it went so well. You tell yourself this is just a stepping stone in the fake relationship. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

He drives you back to campus and follows you all the way to the building before you tell him he doesn’t need to come up with you. Although he tries to push it, it’s hard to ignore how tired he is from the way he drawls.

As you walk back into your dorm, you’re greeted with your phone buzzing to infinity with messages from the girls’ group chat. You laugh at their bickering as they wait for your updates and you almost opt to stay silent to see how far it goes.

The following days go on similarly. Between hanging out with your friends, attending classes and studying for midterms, you’re going out on dates with Heeseung. Fake dates, but you soon learn he’s a really good actor.

Then you update the girls on the happenings of the date, steadily avoiding the parts hinting at your deal.

Your first date following the arcade is at the library. At first, you don’t see how Heeseung would consider this a date, until he shows up at your dorm with roses and chocolates. “Bring these with you,” he says. “She should be studying there for another hour, or two if she’s really into it.”

You abstain from commenting on the fact that if she’s “really into it,” is he even sure she’ll notice either of you, because you’re in need for a good study session with a friend, and as much as you love your friends, they have a hard time focusing when you’re all together.

It’s nice. Heeseung is as hard of a worker as you remember from the previous semester. Every now and then, you’ll look up and find his eyebrows furrowed at the paper in front of him, so you ask to help him out if you can. He does the same to you, you realize. As you look down at your notes, biting your lip at the same phrase you’ve been staring at for a while now, Heeseung taps the table right in front of your book with his pencil. “Need any help?”

You only remember once he brings you back to your dorm that you never asked about the girl. You’re not even sure if she was there since he didn’t say anything.

Yizhuo is offended that you find your girls-only study sessions unhelpful. Ryujin playfully slaps her shoulder.

For another date, he takes you to the movies.

“And this is helpful… how exactly?”

He shrugs and raises a hand to sheepishly scratch the back of his neck. “I may have told her I wanted to see the movie. And then I may have panicked buying them in front of her, I don’t want to risk her seeing me bring someone else when I said I’d bring you.”

“This could’ve been your chance to invite her to the movies!”

“And make her think I’m a cheater?” He shakes his head twice. “Besides, this is what we’re fake dating for. You and I can still go as fake-boyfriend and fake-girlfriend, if you don’t mind.”

Of course you don’t mind.

The movie is okay. It’s not really your style, nor is it Heeseung’s, if his distasteful grimace as he’s walking out of the cinema says anything.

“You didn’t like it,” you tease with fake concern.

He looks like a deer caught in headlights. “No,” he defends. He even raises his hands to wave them around as he searches the air for an explanation. “It was—You know—When they—Right?”

You laugh and place your hand on his shoulder. “I’m kidding. I didn’t really like it either.”

Heeseung places his own hand on top of yours and you feel your heart stutter. In a panicked moment, you try to rip your hand away, but it gets caught in his shirt, so you have to awkwardly pull it out from underneath.

Yunjin asks you about the movie itself, and you can’t seem to remember much about it besides Heeseung’s face at the end of it.

One of your favourite—fake—dates with Heeseung is when he takes you rollerblading. (You never ask how this is related to the girl he’s trying to impress. What? You’ve always wanted to go rollerblading.)

You both invite your friend groups and get to see them bond, which is both weird and endearing.

Yunjin holding onto Sunghoon and Ryujin’s hands for dear life as they’re the only two that are decent at roller skating and she’s on the verge of face planting whenever she steps on the rink on her own.

On the other hand, Yizhuo and Jay are equally bad. Yizhuo has horrible coordination and Jay… just can’t move. He can’t even take a step forward, just waves his arms around as if he’s swimming and it’ll somehow propel him. So, Yizhuo just keeps magnetically crashing into him, causing them both to fall down and need to recalibrate themselves from the boards.

Heeseung is a champion at it, as anyone would’ve expected. Though, he falls back to follow your pace, which is slow, but not agonizingly so, or so you hope.

You haven’t had the chance to go rollerblading in a while, and you end up tripping up over your own feet. Luckily, Heeseung is still there by your side to hold you so you don’t fall.

“Thanks,” you say to him, harshly gripping onto his arm to make sure you don’t.

At the end of the night, when your friends have already called it in, catching an uber or taking their own cars back, you and Heeseung stay a little while longer.

You’re sitting by the bleachers on the outside of the rink, Heeseung still freely skating on his own. He’s skating much faster, now, you notice. And he’s doing it with a big smile on his face which you can’t help but mirror when you’re watching him.

Later on, you notice he wears the same, but more subtle smile when he’s with you in the car, laughing and chatting while music blares from the speakers and the windows are rolled all the way down.

After a few weeks of date after date, midterms come up.

You and Heeseung made an agreement not to go out during this time. It gives the both of you time to recharge and focus on studying. It’d be useless to go out anyway, since his girl would probably be doing the same, you think but avoid saying.

When you make the modifications to your arrangement, you assume this means less frequent texting or calls, but those stay the same. Heeseung texts you good morning and is the last to say good night before you fall asleep, just as he’s been doing the past few weeks. You come to think that you’ve become really good friends over this time together.

You also assumed this would give you a break from acting like a couple, but Heeseung once again has other plans.

One afternoon when you don’t have classes, someone knocks at your door.

Normally, if someone’s at the door without texting you beforehand, it means it’s just another one of those door-to-door students campaigning for whatever new project they’ve come up with. Or, occasionally, it’s your next-door neighbour who’s going to warn you about being loud while working on their next project, whatever it is they’re doing.

This time, however, you’re met with a bouquet of flowers and an otherwise empty hallway. The bouquet comes with a note, that reads:

Good luck on your midterms! My two-lips will be ready to reward you once they’re over… (Sorry, Sunghoon told me to write a pun.) (Fuck why’d I write it in pen? There aren’t even tulips in this bouquet???) (This is from Heeseung BTW)

You laugh at the extra scribbles and smudged half-written words on the rest of the paper.

And it’s like magic, the way his words encourage you to keep studying, keep working harder. You pass your midterms with flying colours.

Heeseung invites you to the café on campus to celebrate, and said you needed to discuss something. When you arrive, your chocolate mocha is already sitting in front of him, on the opposite side of the booth.

He smiles when he sees you come up. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you say back. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“Well, first—” He raises his cup. “To passing midterms!”

You clink yours to his, smiling. “To passing midterms!” You both take a sip of your drinks before setting them down and looking at each other intently.

“So,” he says firmly. “I still haven’t given you your end of the deal.”

That’s right. You agreed on this whole shenanigan as long as he gives you an in on the Park family business. If you’re truly willing to become a lawyer, getting Jay to give you a good word to his father would mean a lot of doors opening, some that you’d never open otherwise.

It’s funny that something so big and important to you slipped your mind over these past few weeks.

Then you remember how you’ve discussed this would be happening. “There’s a party?”

Heeseung nods into his drink, getting a bit of foam on his upper lip. You almost lean over the table to wipe it off yourself, but instead you hand him a napkin, avoiding his eyes as you laugh nervously. “Thank you,” he whispers. Once the napkin’s down, he returns to business. “Tomorrow night at Jay’s actually. His dad won’t be there, unfortunately for you and fortunately for, like, everyone else attending.”

You nod. “So, this’ll be our first big event as a, albeit fake, couple?” Nerves begin to feed in your stomach and suddenly you’re not so thirsty. Your hands naturally start fidgeting with your cup.

The last time you went to one of the campus parties was the first week in the new year, last semester. You remember it all too well, meaning not at all. You’ve never been the best at calculating your tolerance, but that time you really went overboard.

For one, it’s embarrassing, but you also don’t want to do anything with Heeseung.

“Yeah,” Heeseung agrees nonchalantly, but he leans lower in concern, looking to meet your eyes. “But it’ll be okay, just like any of our other dates. Fake dates. Just pretend that you’re the infamous Kang Hana.” Then he adds: “But don’t be late this time.”

There he goes, making you laugh so easily.

Over the next few minutes, you agree that Heeseung will pick you up and drive the both of you to Jay’s not too early, but not too late. Jay isn’t big on wanting his friends to help him set-up, so he’s fine with whenever they decide to show up.

And when you do, you’re struck by awe, your mouth hanging agape at the… everything.

You’ve known Jay was rich, but you never considered he’d be this rich.

The black front gates leading up to a long driveway. The pillared entrance archway. The enormous garden wrapping around the household. The fountain. The white walls which are interrupted by full length windows looking into the modernly decorated mansion.

Jay stands by the door holding a blunt. Wispy smoke draws circles in the air as he exhales. “Look who it is,” he says with open arms, tossing the rest of his joint to the ground.

The boys dab each other up and Jay nods his head at you as a greeting. A chill passes through your body. You hug your body tighter underneath your jacket.

Heeseung places his hand comfortingly on your waist, pulling you closer to him so he can whisper in your ear. “If you want to leave, just say the word.” And when you shake your head, he leans in again. “Are you ready, Kang Hana?”

You decide that you are.

The party is nothing remarkable.

As promised, Heeseung makes sure to give you a chance to talk with Jay and perhaps get an ‘in’ on his father’s company. It seems to go well enough, although Jay mostly just agrees with what you’re saying, trying to move on from the topic of his dad and law.

But other than that, it’s just like any of the other parties that you’ve been to with your friends.

Music. People making out in every corner. Loud music. Couples dragging each other upstairs not-so-secretly. Decent food, despite Heeseung telling you about Jay’s personal chefs being top tier. And did you mention agonizingly loud music?

You still manage to have some fun with your fake-date, though.

The one thing that really stands out is the fact that most girls are keeping their respectful distance from Heeseung.

Usually, he would be surrounded by a dozen, at least. A couple hanging off his arms, some standing behind him, others even kneeling in front of him. They create an entourage around him like he’s some king they worship, and yet today you don’t even see a speck of that lifestyle.

It dawns on you that word really did get around about you and Heeseung.

You even lean in to tell him this much. “Your girl definitely knows,” you tell him. “Is she here?”

Heeseung looks around almost half-interestedly in the others, turning back to you with a smile. “No, I don’t think so,” he says, but he doesn’t sound too bummed out. Maybe it’s the drinks. “Do you want another drink?”

Only later on do you realize you really haven’t learned your lesson on your tolerance.

After your probably fifty-something-eth song on the dance floor, Heeseung calls it quits, having drank just as much, but clearly being able to hold himself together better.

He bids goodbye to his friends, letting you wave at them in your drunken state and gets you in the car to drive you back.

You stumble into Heeseung’s arms as you make your way out of the elevator on your floor. “Oops,” you laugh.

He makes a nervous sound before adjusting his arms to hold you properly with his hand holding onto your waist. “We’re almost there, Y/N,” he whispers, gently tugging you forward on your wobbling legs.

However, he freezes in his tracks when he’s met with your friends waiting by your door.

“Oh,” Yunjin says. “We thought—”

“God, we thought she died or something, she wasn’t answering our texts,” Yizhuo interrupts. “Are you guys gonna…”

“No, no,” Heeseung answers quickly, waving his free hand. “I was just making sure she made it safely back to her dorm.”

You cheer out of the blue, just glad to be there.

Heeseung reaches into your jacket pocket for your keys, the jingling sound making you laugh some more. He tosses the keys to Ryujin. “Here,” he says. “I’ll just bring her to bed—Uh! Not like that, I meant, like, make sure she sleeps.”

Yunjin shakes her head reassuringly. “Here, let me take her. We’ll take care of her, if you don’t mind.”

He doesn’t respond for a second, turning to look at you. The drunk-flush on your cheeks makes your eyes pop, he notices. Unknowingly, a soft smile creeps up on his lips. “Sure, sure,” he eventually says.

When he’s out of sight down the hall, the girls tug you into the room. They bring you to bed, helping you kick off your shoes and take off your jacket, but not bothering changing your clothes—who knows what kind of a struggle that would be.

The process proceeds in a comfortable silence, but not for you. You’re itching to speak, say anything. Something about the drinks in your system makes you feel chatty, so you say the first thing on your mind. “Heeseung’s so pretty.”

“I hope you think so,” Ryujin jokes. “He’s your boyfriend.”

You laugh, turning over to face away from the girls. “No he’s not.”

“Yes, he is,” Yunjin reassures, trying her best to get the blanket over your body to properly tuck you in, but you keep rolling away from her touch.

Watching you shake your head back and forth, Yizhuo curiously pushes. “What do you mean he’s not your boyfriend?”

“It’s just, like, a scheme,” you whisper the last word mischievously, wearing a cunning smile and waving your hands mysteriously. Laughing to yourself, it takes you a moment to notice your friends’ confused expressions when you look over at them again. “What?” You look up at them with a dazed smile.

“So… You and Heeseung,” Yunjin starts with furrowed brows, trying to assess the situation. “You’re not even dating?”

“Nope!” you say with a laugh, enunciating the ‘p’ with a pop of your lips.

From behind you, Yizhuo lets out a sigh of relief.

This time, Yunjin frowns at her. “What’s that about?”

“Sorry, sorry,” she says hurriedly. “It’s just that if Y/N and Heeseung were actually dating, the whole reveal would’ve been really awkward.”

“What reveal,” you ask.

She pulls her lips in, suppressing a laugh, before waving her hands and starting to confess. “So, remember how I said I slept with Heeseung at a party last semester?” Memories of her flaunting her newfound womanhood and maturity swarm your mind. You nod, yeah, I remember. “Well—” She tilts her head  guiltily. “I lied.”

You blink slowly at her. Once, and twice, before shaking your head out of pure confusion. “Wait, what? Why would you lie about that?”

Yizhuo looks over at Ryujin and Yunjin as if they’ll help her. From the less than expressive faces, you can tell they already knew. She scratches the base of her neck awkwardly. “I don’t know, I guess for status, or whatever.”

This sobers you up instantly. “Status? Like sleeping with Heeseung’s some kind of badge you get to wear around?”

She laughs nervously. “Well, no. But like, I don’t know, Y/N, I was just fucking around. I told you guys that when I was, like, really high.”

“Doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re treating him like some kind of object?” You’re always one to try to see the best in a person, in a situation, but you really can’t find it in yourself to defend Yizhuo right now. “He’s not just some fuckboy, Ning, he’s sweet, and kind, and cares about the little things, and—”

“So, you do like him?”

You sputter confusedly. “What are you even talking about?”

She stares at you dumbfoundedly. “You like him. You’re, you’re defending him,” she explains matter of factly. “Do you know how many girls he’s hurt ‘cause of his little hobby of hooking up and leaving them in the dust?”

“That has nothing to do with what we’re talking about. Admit it, Ning, you fucked up.”

She raises her arms defensively. “Fine! Maybe I did! But so did he. Multiple times with so many people. It’s weird that you’re on his side with this.” Sighing, she rolls her eyes. “Fine, I’m sorry for what I lied about when I wasn’t right in the fucking head, if that’s what you want to hear.”

You truly don’t know what’s gotten into her, but you also can’t be asked to bother caring. “Real mature,” you deadpan, realizing that that in itself is immature, too. “Get out of my room.”

She doesn’t even say anything to you. Just rolls her eyes again, mutters under her breath and tells the other girls they can come over to her place if they want. Yizhuo leaves with her jacket over her shoulder, not looking back.

“Go after her, it’s fine,” you tell Ryujin and Yunjin.

“Y/N—”

“Just go.”

They file out of the room in a hurry, and only when the door shuts do you let your tears of frustration fall. You slide down to the floor and cry into the palms of your hands with your knees up to your chest.

You’ve never had a fight like this with your friends. Sure, you’ve argued every now and then about stupid things, but something that left your chest heaving? All of this over a boy?

Your hands shake as you reach for your phone, your finger gliding past the group chat and your private messages with the girls—tempted to call them again, but you refuse—rushed to find the contact you've gotten so familiar with.

The line rings a few times, before you hear the click!.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” His voice is laced in concern, which warms your heart. And when you tell him you want to see him, he doesn't ask questions and simply tells you: “I’m on my way.”

Heeseung gets to your dorm surprisingly fast.

Then he reveals that he never left the parking lot, not specifying why, and you’re blushing all over. You avoid eye contact, but he reads it as you avoiding the topic.

He tells you as much that you don’t need to go into detail if you don't want to, simply promising to be here. “It’s been a long night, you should rest.”

You lay down in bed, lifting the covers as an invitation.

He lays down next to you. “Is this okay?” And all you can do is nod.

Your curtains are ajar, you notice, watching the way the moonlight traces Heeseung’s features. His eyes shine in the dark, but yours drift down to his glistening lips.

He lightly bites his lower lip as he holds a strong gaze on your face, studying.

Just when you think he’s about to lean in and close his eyes, Heeseung surprises you with a whisper. “I think we should go to sleep.”

Disappointment runs through your body, but you agree nonetheless.

Your dreams are plagued by the shadow of a touch and big brown eyes.

The following morning, the first thing you think is, “I slept next to Hee—Ow, my head hurts really bad?!”

You groan as you push the blankets on the side, when you notice the other half of the bed is empty. The sight of it makes you frown, but then you hear rustling the bathroom and you let out a sigh of relief.

“You’re up?” Heeseung peers his head around the corner of the bathroom. His hair drips onto the flooring and evaporated hot water trails behind him. “I hope you don't mind. I took a shower.”

Not finding the words, you wave it off. Shaking your head proves to be a bad idea because you’re left clenching in your fists from the pain.

Heeseung frowns. “Headache?” When you nod, he points to your side table. “I left a glass of water—I hope you don't mind I took it from your filter—and an ibuprofen—which I took from your cabinet, I really hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s okay, Heeseung,” you tell him quietly, wearing a pained, but genuine smile. “I really appreciate it, thank you.”

He smiles shyly before returning to the bathroom. And then it dawns on you that he might not have been wearing clothes during your exchange. Your face flushes, again.

When he leaves the bathroom, it’s your turn to freshen up. You try not to think about it too much.

“What should we have for breakfast?” he asks casually, sitting by your desk and is still working hard at drying his hair.

Your eyes are stuck on Heeseung’s movements. The way he fiddles with the towel to dry his hair, his face scrunching as he swipes rapidly. You smile in silent laughter at his cute expression, but you don't say anything about it.

“I’m really craving a croissant.”

That’s how you find yourself, hands inching away from Heeseung’s as you walk, making your way down to the café.

He tells you to find your regular table, assuring you that he’ll order. There’s no point in protesting, plus your headache still hasn't completely dissipated, so you willingly agree.

It only takes a few minutes for him to come back with a caffe latte and a dark chocolate mocha as per usual, as well as two croissants in paper bags.

“How’d you know I wanted a dark chocolate croissant,” you ask, peering into its bag. It’s glorious, you note, taking it out, careful not to spill the freshly drizzled still-hot chocolate.

Heeseung shrugs. “You’re always ordering the dark chocolate mocha, so I figured you'd like it on your croissant, too. It’s good right?”

You nod and hum into your food as a response, too enthralled by the taste and Heeseung’s attention to detail.

Your outing together goes well, as they always have.

He doesn't bring up your tear-stained cheeks from last night or the sudden call, to which you’re glad. The conversation is light, but natural. Every now and then, he makes you laugh and forget all about last night's events—almost all of them. Lingering at the back of your mind is the moonlight across his face, his soft lips and the feeling that you imagined when looking at them; the feeling of them pressing against your own.

Heeseung insists on walking you back to your dorm, again. You’ve learned by now that it's useless to argue with him, as stubborn as he is. “It’s on my way,” he lies. “Really, it's for me, mostly.”

That second statement is less of a lie, you can tell.

“After you,” he says, gesturing toward the elevator.

You lean against the elevator wall, closing your eyes. “I’m so tired,” you say with a muffled voice.

After pressing the button to your dorm with no hesitation, Heeseung’s eyes darken with a serious air. “Are you sure you're okay?” He’s not really asking about right now, more so about everything that happened last night. Everything he doesn't know about.

You’re afraid of admitting to him that you drunkenly spilled the truth to all of your friends, and caused a fight because of it. Not to mention he was the center of it.

Internally, you decide not to tell him about Yizhuo’s damage. That’s something between her and him, and you're not going to push it onto either of them.

“You can trust me—” Then, he reassures. “Only if you're comfortable.”

You are. So, you start to put together how you’ll tell him in your head, but your thoughts are interrupted by a loud—

THUD!

“What was—”

THUD! THUD!

And then, you’re falling.

Shit. We’re           falling.

Your brain stops working, completely freezing in your spot, the noise of the elevator screeching against its reins echoing in your head. Your heart pounds against your chest.

“On the ground!" a distant voice yells. Heeseung.

Right. That’s smart.

You follow his movements and lie down next to him, spread eagle. Your arms are practically on top of each other.

Heeseung grips onto your shoulder, shaking it. “We’ll be okay,” he says, though you're not sure if it's to you or himself. His eyes stay open widely, bloodshot. 

Suddenly, the elevator stops in its movements. The unexpected stop makes your chest bounce, but altogether, you're okay. You’re okay. “Is anyone in there?” The voice is muffled from behind the closed doors, but you think you recognize it as one of the janitors from the building.

Hurriedly, Heeseung rushes to the door. “Yes, yes, we’re in here!”

“Stay there—Er, I mean, stay still—Or, just don't worry we’ll get you out of there. Soon.” The ending of his sentence doesn't bring much reassurance, but from your spot still on the floor, you force yourself to believe his words.

Heeseung doesn't seem convinced either, but he lets out a sigh and extends his hand to help you up. You take his offer and try your best to ignore the fire his touch alights in your stomach. “I guess we have some time.”

“I guess we do,” you say with an awkward laugh.

He doesn't say anything in response, giving you the chance to lead the conversation. If you wanted to completely ignore the subject at hand, you don't think he'd mind. This gives you the confidence to do the complete opposite.

You take a deep breath before sputtering, “I told my friends about our deal. Drunkenly, so like totally an accident, but I did and now they know and—”

“Oh,” is all that comes out of his mouth at first. You worriedly lift your eyes to meet his, though now they're glued to the ceiling, with his back leaning against the wall. “That's—That’s okay. What harm could they cause? Unless you're telling me they're planning on going around campus exposing us… But that's not your fault.”

This time, you say “Oh,” standing in silence and staring at Heeseung’s favourite spot on the ceiling, too. The panel twitches from above, and you can imagine the elevator crashing has something to do with it. “I also got into a huge fight with them, or maybe not all of them, but it was, it was bad. We've never fought like that.”

“What was the fight about?”

You, you want to say. How Yizhuo did something stupid and it somehow turned into being about your complicated feelings for him. But you can’t tell him all of it, that’d be too much for such a tight space.

Shrugging while trying to look unconcerned, you decide to confess a half-truth. For some reason, you can’t get yourself to lie to him. “They think our plan is a bad idea because you’d be supposedly ‘using me,’ as if I like you, or something…”

He’s silent, at first. Heeseung considers what you’ve said, neither comforting nor arguing against you for it.

“Do you?”

You turn to him. “Do I what?”

“Like me,” he answers. “Do you like me?”

“I…” you start lamely. Your eyes avoid his, but they always seem to find their way back to his gaze, your face flushing underneath it. “I can’t answer that.”

And neither does he.

Instead, he turns so his body is completely facing yours, coming much closer than he was before. You tilt your head toward his where your breaths fan against each other. Your eyes make the mistake of drifting down to his lips again, and you instantly lose all composure.

You lean in first, but he’s quick to follow your lead, placing his hands onto your waist, while yours find their way to the base of his neck.

The kiss is delicate, but sparks fly all around. Your stomach does a flip when you feel his tongue tracing your bottom lip, but you don’t deny him access for long. 

Heeseung’s hands trail down your torso to your hips, where they inch backward to pull you closer into him. You follow his movements until he’s pushed against the wall with you tightly pressed against him. He flexes his arms around your body and flips you so your back is against the wall instead, with him hovering above you.

His knee is drawn between your legs pressing against your core, eliciting a moan, but it doesn’t go further than that. Soon enough, your movements are slowing down, though your heart is still racing in your chest.

When you separate, your mouth hangs open. “Heeseung…” you whisper, but before you can say anything more, the doors slide open.

“Are you okay?” The janitor that you predicted would be there is standing by the buttons, holding a handy-man suitcase for the electrician kneeling in front of the panel. “Anyone get hurt?”

You brush off any dust from your back, adjusting your shirt and hair to be more presentable. Also to erase the memory of whatever just happened. Did we really…? “No. No, we’re okay. Thank you.”

“Yes, we’re… okay,” Heeseung adds quietly.

You don’t even wait for Heeseung, rushing toward the staircase on the other side to get to your floor. For a moment, you hear his footsteps behind you, but once you’re up halfway, you realize he’s given up and you let out a sigh of relief.

You don’t really want to face him now, not after what just happened.

Luckily for you, you don’t need to face him for a long time afterward.

You stare at his latest text (”assignments are pretty crazy atm let’s reschedule our next fake dates”), trying not to focus on your heart tightening at his word choice, and quickly reply:

ME sounds good! see u :) 10:11

The week goes by slowly and quietly.

With Heeseung mostly M.I.A besides the occasional short-worded answers to your texts and you actively avoiding running into your friends, you’ve had a lot more time for yourself and you notice how much you hate it.

So, you pluck up the courage to text the ghosted group chat, asking the girls to meet together at the café. You all need to talk, whether any of you like it or not.

Though, the reason you even have the motivation to do this at all is because you know the girls have been making an effort to talk. Although not in the group chat, your messages have been spammed daily with apologies and questions about your daily life, to keep it casual. You also received a note during the class you share with Ryujin which read simply: “Love ya xx”

You smiled at it before crumpling it and stuffing it into your bag—What? You were trying to make a statement.

Now there’s no need for theatrical note crumpling, with the three girls surrounding you at your regular booth. Yours and Heeseung’s, you mean. It’s the comfiest there, you convince yourself when making the natural choice to sit there.

The space is filled with awkward silence as you sip on your mocha, feeling even more stuffy when the girls don’t make a move to drink their own orders. You’ve had enough of this. “Guys… Let’s talk, or something. We’re still friends.”

“I’m sorry,” Yizhuo says out of the blue. “Seriously. That was really messed up and I shouldn’t have said it. And I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, you had every right to be mad.”

You smile softly. “Thank you,” is all you say, taking her hands in yours and squeezing them. You lean your head against her shoulder and the two of you stay like that for a while.

“You really like Heeseung, don’t you?”

Your head shoots up at Yunjin’s sudden question. You stumble over your words, trying to suppress the blush from spreading up to the tips of your ears, but you feel the heat anyway. “No, no, I—I don’t. No.” You shake your head for emphasis, but Yizhuo looks at you with telling eyes.

“Sure, I believe you,” she says, completely meaning the opposite.

“I just—” you start, not really knowing how you feel. “Our whole set-up, it’s—it’s fake. He doesn’t feel the same. I don't even know why he kissed me—”

“He kissed you?!”

Before you have the chance to respond, your phone buzzes, drawing your attention thankfully away from your accidental reveal. It’s Heeseung. Great.

희승♡ there’s a party at sunghoon's, you wanna come? 14:23

ME when is it? 14:23 

희승♡ tonight @ 10 14:23

You look back up at the girls to find them staring at you with knowing smiles. It’s not hard for them to notice who you’re texting, or the way your eyes glint at the messenger.

“So,” you tell them. Yizhuo and Ryujin lean in, while Yunjin raises a curious brow. “Who wants to go to a party?”

Sunghoon’s house isn’t as grand, but it’s just as prepared for a party as Jay’s. Music blares into the driveway as you, Heeseung and the girls make your way to the door. Nobody is standing by it with a blunt, but the wide-open entrance is welcome enough.

“You guys go in,” you tell the girls, making a sign for them to not protest. They don’t, understanding your unspoken signal and heading inside. You turn back to Heeseung who looks more nervous than he’s known to be nonchalant. “Hey…”

“Hey,” he says back.

“It’s been a while.”

He hums, looking off to the cars spilling out into the street, nodding at nothing. “I’m sorry, I was, uh, busy,” he clarifies.

A chill passes between you, but you’re not so sure if it’s the wind or the awkward air. Either way, you’re happy to have brought a jacket to bury your hands in.

“You made up with your friends,” Heeseung notes suddenly.

“Yeah, we talked earlier.” He’s not going to bring up the kiss, you conclude, and neither are you. Maybe you can go on and forget it happened altogether. “We sorted it all out.”

Heeseung gives you a genuine, albeit small, smile. “That’s good.”

Scenes from the elevator rush through your mind. His hands around your waist, his lips against yours. The way it all felt, how consumed you were of him. How good it was. You blink it away and gesture to the door. “Should we…”

“Let’s go,” he says, then adds, “Kang Hana.”

You laugh. Okay, you think, we’re okay.

And with Heeseung by your side, the night is one to remember.

With the music ringing loudly throughout the house, after a few light drinks, you and Heeseung spend your time dancing with your hands on each other, rhythmically guiding each other to the melody. You almost forget there are other people in the room at all, closing your eyes and only thinking of the man holding you in his arms.

When the fourth or fifth song ends, you separate, only for him to run his hand down your arm to grab your hand on his own. He leads you to one of the rec rooms.

“There she is!” Yunjin’s drunken voice makes you giggle, the buzz getting to you, too.

“Hi, hi,” you tell her and the others.

Yizhuo is busy steadying her aim, holding onto a ping pong ball just past her nose with one closed eye, to greet you, but Ryujin waves sleepily from her place. She’s leaning against someone you recognize from one of her study groups. They nod to you, too.

“Hey,” Heeseung whispers, leaning into your ear.

You giggle at the feeling of his words against your skin. “Hey, back.”

“I’m gonna go get another drink, you want one?”

You nod eagerly, letting your fingers fiddle with his even as he begins to walk away. When he’s gone, your hands linger in the air for a moment more, missing the warmth of his hold.

Suddenly, the warmth comes back, though it’s different.

Turning around, you’re faced with Jay. “Can we talk?” he asks.

Wordlessly, you nod and let him guide you through the crowd of people to a more secluded area.

“What’s up?” You try to steady your voice, but it comes out higher pitched and perky out of instinct, still feeling the adrenaline of the buzz.

“Heeseung told me you wanted an ‘in’ at my dad’s firm?”

Your eyes light up. “Yes, yes I do!”

He chuckles at your excitement. “Well… I can give you his details so you can get into contact with him. I’m also technically not supposed to tell you this, but—” You lean in expectantly. “—they're picking out students for a co-op over the summer. Maybe I could put in a good word, slide your application at the top of the pile…”

“You can do that? Seriously!?”

“I can’t guarantee it’ll be with my father himself.” He raises his arms in defense. “But I can definitely get you some connections on the inside.”

Your hands come up to your mouth, holding it from going agape in honour. “Thank you, oh my God, thank you,” you repeat for good measure. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The air shifts as he moves closer to you. Jay’s hand lands on the wall not far off from your head. He leans in, his breath tickling your skin, making your cheeks flush. “Maybe you could thank me by letting me take you out?”

For a moment, you’re frozen in your spot. How are you meant to react? Heeseung’s best friend hitting on you? What would happen if he saw? Wait, does it even matter? You’re not actually dating. Right?

But the elevator…

“Hey,” a familiar voice sounds from behind you. Heeseung steps forward, the lights of the party illuminating his features dimly. His face wears an uncharacteristic anger in his furrowed brows and hardened jaw. “Back off.”

Jay simply laughs, retracting his hand. “Why do you care,” he taunts.

You try to keep your composure. Jay hasn't been the nicest out of the group, but you never expected him to sound so mean.

You watch as Heeseung refuses to reply, not wanting to push Jay even more as he’s clearly too buzzed to have a coherent conversation. He tries to grab onto his arms and lead him away, but Jay’s quick to push them off.

“You don’t even like the girl,” Jay slurs.

Heeseung gets closer to him, grabbing his arm and talking into his face to make sure he listens. “You’re drunk, Jay, back off.”

Jay isn’t having it. He tosses his head back in a laugh. “Don’t tell me you actually fell for her?” he asks in a venomous tone. Your stomach churns as you watch their interaction. A smirk grows across his lips. “You owe me.”

“Fuck off.”

“What?” You weren’t going to step in, already feeling shaken up enough from tonight’s events. But Jay’s words ring in your mind. “What does he mean you owe him? What, what is he saying?”

Heeseung’s eyes lock with yours, pity and sadness ghosting his expression. “Y/N, I can explain—”

“We made a bet,” Jay cuts in. He shrugs Heeseung’s hands off of his shoulders. “He had to get any girl on campus to fall for him, leave her in the dust and watch her crawl back.” He turns to Heeseung with a mocking pout, his steps wobbling. He’s really drunk. “Doesn’t matter that she won’t come crawling back, ‘cause you’re too soft to leave her.”

“What’s your problem,” Heeseung shuts. “Are you jealous? That’s fucking low, even for you.”

You can’t even see him properly, your vision blurred in tears. Your breath catches in your throat as you want to say something to interrupt, come between. But you can’t even stand being by Heeseung right now. “A bet? This was all a bet?”

He turns to you quickly. “Y/N, please, let me explain.”

You shake your head, tears running down your cheek, surely ruining your mascara. “I have to go.”

Maybe it would make sense if you let him explain. Maybe he could somehow salvage the situation, but you can’t hear it. Not right now. Not after everything you’ve felt for him, everything you still feel for him despite the ache in your chest.

From behind you, Heeseung calls your name. “Wait, please!” You ignore him and run out of the house.

Your body shakes. “Should’ve brought a sweater..” you mumble bitterly. Then you remember that you did, but you left it inside. You also realize that you left all of your friends behind without a word. “And my phone,” you groan. You could easily turn back around and get them, but you’re already halfway down the road, you can even see your building in the distance.

It’s too humiliating to go back now, anyway.

How could I be so stupid? you think to yourself. Lee Heeseung, going out with you out of his own free will? Stupid. Impossible. Just a dumb fantasy. 

It starts to rain. You curse at the sky.

When you finally make it to your dorm, stumbling up the steps because of course the elevator still hasn’t been fixed, you go straight to bed without washing up. You’re too tired for this. And, you realize, you drank too much to care.

You try to fall asleep. You really do.

But your head keeps replaying Jay and Heeseung’s conversation. The way Heeseung lips parted when Jay revealed it all. The way he looked at you, begging for you to listen to him. It’s all stuck in your head and in fear of it following you into your dreams, your body refuses to fall asleep to ignore everything.

Just as you’re about to take your pillow and scream into it, you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone.

희승♡ i’m right outside your door 02:23

희승♡ you have every right to slam the door in my face 02:23

희승♡ or not open it at all 02:24

Staring at the messages, you bit your lip in consideration of your options.

You could, A. Not get up. Keep the door closed and never speak to Lee Heeseung ever again. Or, B. Get up, open the door and see what he has to say to explain himself. You’re liking the former, but your feet move on their own toward the entrance.

You lift yourself up to peer through the peephole. Heeseung is standing there, fidgeting anxiously in his stance. He looks from right to left a couple times, down to his phone, back up, and closes his eyes. After a deep breath, you watch him begin to walk backward, slowly.

Something snaps in you. You open the door.

His eyes widen at the sight of you. You’re probably still a mess, eyes red from crying paired with tear-stained cheeks and running mascara. You don’t even want to begin to picture the state of your hair. Yet, he looks at you in awe. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” you whisper back.

Wordlessly, you step back to motion for him to come in.

Heeseung follows you onto the couch, where you sit down to look past the TV in front of you and stare at a blank space on the wall. You feel his eyes on you.

“I’m sorry,” he then says.

You don’t reply.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he starts again. “But can I tell you everything from the start? I need you to know what really happened. Then, you can go on to hate me.”

I don’t hate you, you want to say. You don’t speak, nodding for him to go on.

Ironically, considering he was drunk out of his mind, Heeseung remembers the moment he got your call.

He and the boys were hanging at Sunghoon’s, originally just planning on playing video games and getting high, but then Sunghoon mentioned his dad’s stash. “Whiskey and lemonade, anyone? Rum and coke? Dirty Shirley? If you’re feeling creative,”

Who was Heeseung to deny?

And so, soon enough, they were drunk enough to forget the weight on their shoulders and act more carefreely. This is when Jay decided to come up with a brilliant idea.

“So we all know Heeseung’s a whore—”

“Hey,” he interrupted. “I haven’t gotten some in, like, four months.”

Jay laughed, taking another swig of his drink. He grimaced as the liquid burned down his throat. “You’ve basically fucked half of the campus, but it’s always one night and that’s it.” Heeseung nodded, not sure where he was going with this. “Bet you can’t get someone to fall in love, or some shit.”

He couldn’t help but raise a brow challengingly. “What? You think someone wouldn’t fall for me if I gave them flowers and took them out?”

“Have you ever even actually dated?”

The answer was yes. Technically. If you count middle school relationships. Otherwise, fine, he’ll admit to himself that he hasn’t ever dated anyone seriously. That’s just ‘cause he hasn’t found anyone he’s really interested that he knows would be into him, too.

Of course, there was you. You were the first person he ever fell head over heels for. Heeseung didn’t even know he was capable of falling so hard, but he did.

Though you would never like him back. You’ve already confirmed it.

So, Heeseung clapped his hands determinedly. “You wanna bet on it?”

But before Jay could answer, his phone rang.

The contact felt familiar—Note Giver—but his mind couldn’t register. “Hello,” he said confusedly.

Some commotion on the other side took him by surprise.

“Um… Who is this?” Sunghoon looked at him curiously, wondering what could’ve interrupted their moment.

The girl, he presumed, on the other side hesitated for a moment. There was more noise before she said: “This is… Hana…”

“Hana?”

“Kang. Kang Hana,” the girl clarified. Y/N. He finally realized it was you. “We met at the, uh, party last Friday. At Jay’s.”

Heeseung considered your words, wondering where you were going with this. At the same time, he accidentally spilled his drink. “Shit,” he whispered away from his phone. Sunghoon tossed him a towel with a big smile on his face. When the mess was mostly cleaned, Heeseung brought the phone back to his ear, cleaning the rest of it with his other hand. “Kang Hana.”

“Yeah, we had a good time together, didn’t we?”

He paused. “I guess,” he said slowly. He wanted to have a little fun with this, listen to your voice a little longer. “Can you remind me?”

You began to tell the tale about your supposed encounter, spinning the story into something that genuinely impressed Heeseung. Every now and then, he hummed, trying to suppress a laugh at your creativity. He doesn’t even want to know why this was happening.

“I’m so sorry, I left you in the dirt and—” Your voice was cut off by a squeal, shocking him.

“Woah!” he yelped, pulling the phone away once again. Jay couldn’t hold his laugh at Heeseung’s reaction.

“Who is it,” he asked.

Heeseung didn’t miss a beat before responding without really thinking. “Y/N.”

He practically hears your heart drop. “You knew it was me?”

“Obviously,” he replied with a chuckle. “Took me a second, I’m a little tipsy, haha.” He didn’t want to throw you off by admitting he was more than buzzed, so he told a white lie. As long as he was coherent enough to have a conversation, he thought it was fine.

“Oh, am I interrupting?”

“You’re never a bother, babe.”

Why did I say that? Maybe he’s more drunk than he thought. It just slipped past his lips, he doesn’t know why. Were his fantasies meshing with reality that he couldn’t help himself? Heeseung tries not to watch Jay’s face morph into something mischievous.

“Huh,” you said, which made Heeseung cringe.

Jay mouthed something in his direction. He tried to read it, but it must've been something along the lines of “Her. She’s the girl.”

Heeseung knew what he meant and mentally hurled the empty chair to his right at him. Back to the phone conversation, he tried to change the subject. “Are you with the girls?”

You told him you were, and he took this as an opening.

As much as he wanted to keep talking with you, since it’s been so long, he needed to get away from this conversation to recover from the embarrassing slip-up. “I don’t want to keep you if you’re having fun. Text me later though, okay?” God, when does he stop talking?

You confusedly told him “Okay?” before you cut the call.

He was already typing a message to apologize to you for his behaviour, but Jay was already telling him to play along with it some more. The bet was on and he decided that you were going to be the girl.

Heeseung felt a knot form in his stomach.

“I should’ve just come clean when we met at the café, but I didn’t. I’m sorry.” He ends his retelling at that, you fill in the rest with your mind.

You’re not sure what to say. You have so many questions and comments spiralling in your mind, where do you even start? “There was never a girl?”

“No… Just you.”

Stuttering, you just have to ask. “Why me?”

“Jay told me to go for you, said it would be a challenge. I was stupid enough to go along with it. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, I wanted to tell you the truth, but I… I really like you, Y/N, I didn’t think you’d want to be with me if you knew the truth.”

“You called me babe.” Is all you say.

“What?”

“On call. The first time. You called me babe. I thought that was you playing your role.”

Heeseung lets out a shaky sigh that sounds more like a breathy laugh. “I was drunk,” he explains. “And I…” You look at him expectantly. “I’ve liked you since we met, and I guess it slipped up ‘cause I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

This shocks you. You blink up at him. “Since we met?”

“Well, pretty much.” He rubs the base of his neck awkwardly. “Obviously you’re really pretty, but it was more than that. You were always the first in class. You only answered the professor when no one else would, even though you definitely always knew the answer. You’re so well spoken, too.” You blush at his words. You never realized he had been so observant. You never thought anyone would notice so much about you.

However, you shake your head. “But you never said anything?” This truly astounds you. The everknown Lee Heeseung never made a move to even at least try to be with you. You can’t even know if you would’ve said no to him because well… he’s him. If you knew him the way you know him now, you know you would’ve said yes in a heartbeat.

“Remember what I told you about the girl I liked?” You nod. “You’re her.”

You furrow your brows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Last semester, I went to one of the campus parties and you were there. You were drunk out of your mind,” he laughs. Oh, God, he remembers, too? “At first I was just admiring this new side of you. So carefree and so unapologetically you.” His eyes glint at the memory. You can almost see it replaying in your head. Almost because you truly can’t remember much of that night. “And then you ran off to the bathroom at some point ‘cause you got sick. I followed you to make sure you were alright, but you pushed me away.

“You told me to fuck off ‘cause you didn’t want to sleep with me. You called me a player and said you didn’t want to get roped up in that, or something. I think you insulted me some more, but your words were kind of all mashed together.” You flush. “I left you alone, but made sure to get your friends to check on you. And, I don’t know, I kind of lost interest in hooking up with random people after that.”

Your eyebrows raise, impressed. “You quit cold turkey?” He nods. “For me?”

He nods again.

“Wow… You really like me?”

“Y/N, I think I’m in love with you.”

You find yourself teetering on the edge of disbelief and joy, uncertain about how to respond to this unexpected revelation. Heeseung looks at you with such tenderness that you’ve never had directed toward you, to which your heart flutters with warmth.

His eyes shift from adoration to concern as you sit there in shock for a moment. “I know you probably don’t like me back, but—” he starts, but you don’t let him finish.

Driven by a surge of emotions, you lean in, pressing your lips against his.

As you kiss him this time, there’s a greater sense of assurance. Your first kiss carried an air of uncertainty, with both of you unsure about each other’s feelings. The way you felt when pulling away left your stomach in knots, thoughts of insecurities and worries running through your mind.

You let go of your hesitation, now, focusing solely on this moment. The way your lips connect to his, the way he smiles into the kiss and the way you pull away to look at him with telling eyes.

“I love you, Kang Hana,” Heeseung tells you.

You reply with a laughing smile. “I love you, too, Lee Heeseung.”

A ringing phone blares in your ear early in the morning. You groan, eyelids barely awake since even the sun hasn't come up yet. “Hello,” you mumble into the receiver. “Um… Who is this?”

You recognize the chuckle from the other side. Suddenly, you’re much more awake. “I’m sorry, Love, did I wake you?”

“No! No—” you scramble but are cut off by a yawn. Heeseung laughs softly again. “Yes, you did, but that's okay. Why're you calling so early? How are you even up?”

“I couldn't sleep.” Then, he adds more teasingly. “Not without you.”

You can practically hear the wink he sends.

“I wanted to watch the sunrise, and then I thought that maybe you’d want to watch it with me?” He says it like a question, as if he's not sure. You shake your head even though you know he can't see it. “Maybe I should've thought this through…”

A giggle escapes your lips without warning. “It’s fine, Heeseung. How about you come over and we’ll watch it by my window? Unless you have a spot?”

He hums assuredly. “No, no, I was just gonna watch it from mine, too. I’m actually, uh, already inside your building.”

He’s so ridiculous. You laugh to yourself before telling him to come up—You unlock the door, only for him to appear right on the other side as you do it.

“Hi,” you tell him with a bright smile despite your tired eyes.

“Hi,” he replies quietly.

You’re lucky your window is facing the east, with little to nothing blocking your view from the clear bluish-orange morning sky, aside from some trees, but they only add to the landscape. The sunrise is beautiful, but you conclude that Heeseung is much more beautiful, especially with the way his eyes reflect the sun rays that hit through your window.

For a moment, you shut your eyes to appreciate the heat of the rays. “Beautiful,” Heeseung murmurs.

And when you open your eyes, you realize he’s looking at you.

[dreamersparacosm]

𐙚₊˚⊹ flustered!jk and cheeky!reader 𐙚₊˚⊹

warnings ; jk losing his marbles, reader is a menace to society, oral (male recieving), car/public sex, jk is big af, he’s also a head pusher oop

prompt ; in which he takes you up on your offer.

part one!

Jungkook has had better days.

He’s had better weeks, actually. Ones where his brain wasn’t halting every neuron firing each time someone said your name. Ones where he could focus on normal things, like work and video games and whatever ramen packet was closest to expiration, without flashing back to you in his car, looking like a problem and sounding like a promise.

God.

It’s been exactly six days, and you’re still living rent-free in his head like you own the place, feet up on the furniture, eating snacks in his subconscious like it’s a sleepover. It’s not even sexy anymore, it’s embarrassing. He’s replayed that moment so many times it’s starting to feel like trauma. His brain shortens it into TikTok-length flashbacks like some deranged highlight reel.

And now it’s Friday night again. Another weekend. Another group outing. And he knows you’ll be there, laughing too loud, leaning too close to other guys, dressed like sin in some crop top. He thinks he’s doing himself a massive favor by telling the boys he’s too tired to go out, that he’s better off staying home so not to ruin the mood. Yet, somehow he knows his peace will be disturbed.

Despite all of his better judgment, despite the five pep talks he’s given himself today, despite Googling “how to stop thinking about someone you can’t bone for moral reasons,” he’s caving.

All because you’re texting him again. One simple message.

You: can you give me a ride home :( <3

That’s it. That’s his villain origin story.

He shouldn’t say yes. He should say you can Uber. He should say he’s busy. He should say he’s out of town, in a coma, legally dead. But instead, he just texts back.

Jungkook : on my way.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You slide into the passenger seat like you own it. Like you belong there. (Which you do — the man broke traffic laws to get to you.)

Your top, if it can even be called that, is doing absolutely no work. It’s sheer, shimmery, strapless, and defies the laws of physics and fabric. Your skin is warm from the bar, and you smell like perfume and trouble and something fruity with a hint of Casamigos. You’re tipsy, giggly, legs crossed like a Bond girl, and your hand lands on his shoulder like it’s nothing.

“Hi, driver,” you sing-song, smiling at him as if you don’t know exactly what you’re doing. “Miss me?”

He almost drives into a parked car.

You click your seatbelt with a soft snap and stretch, lifting your arms over your head in a way that should be illegal. Your shirt rides up an inch. His sanity drops ten.

“Where to?” he asks, voice already tight.

“Wherever you wanna take me,” you hum, then glance sideways at him. “As long as there’s room for me to get on my knees.”

He actually chokes. Like physically this time. Coughs. Slams a hand against the wheel. Regains composure only to lose it again.

You grin like the Cheshire Cat.

He starts driving, but barely. His eyes are glued to the road with soldier-like discipline, hands clenched at ten and two, just like last time. Except this time he’s thinking about your mouth. And your legs. And that last damn thing you said.

Every five seconds you keep touching him. A hand on his thigh, fingers tracing his bicep. At one point you lean forward to grab a sip of his water bottle from the cupholder and your boobs brush his arm and he lets out a sound like a dying animal.

He’s going to hell. You’re sending him there personally.

“You’re quiet,” you pout, turning to face him. “Are you nervous again, Jungkookie?”

“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, adjusting the air-conditioning and absolutely not touching anything else.

“Why not?” you ask, tilting your head. “You don’t like it when I’m cute?”

“You’re never just cute,” he snaps, then freezes, realizes what he just said.

Your grin stretches slow and dangerous. “Oh?”

He exhales hard through his nose. His fingers twitch. That’s enough. Fucking enough.

He pulls over. Hard turn, sharp brake, slams the car into park like he’s punishing it. The air goes silent except for the faint hum of the engine and both of your breathing.

“You want to keep playing this game?” he asks, voice low and rough. “Fine. But you better be ready to lose.”

You blink, startled by the shift. “What..”

“You think I haven’t been thinking about it?” he interrupts. “You think I don’t know exactly what you’ve been doing every time you get in this car looking like that?”

His gaze drops to your mouth, then lower. It makes your skin erupt in heat.

“You have been nervous,” You whisper, a little breathless.

“I’ve been trying not to crash the car,” he says sharply. “Because all I do is imagine what would happen if I just pulled over. And now I have.”

Your heart’s going feral in your chest. Your thighs press together. You stare at him, stunned into silence for once in your life.

“Well,” you finally murmur, licking your lips. “Better make sure my seatbelt is on.”

He leans closer, eyes glued to yours.

“Yeah,” he says. “You’re gonna need it.”

Ay, ay captain. You do double-check to make sure your seatbelt is on.

Mostly because Jungkook is staring at you like a man on the edge and if this goes where you think it’s going, you’d like your insurance to cover it.

He hasn’t moved yet. Just sitting there, parked in the dark near some empty lot, one hand still on the steering wheel like it’s his emotional support item. He licks his lips, exhales deeply within his chest. And you can see the exact moment he loses the fight with himself.

His hand drops from the wheel. “Okay.”

You blink. “Okay?”

“I’m…” he clears his throat. “I’m saying okay.”

..Okay what? Okay you can shut up now? Okay let’s never speak of this again? Okay go ahead and ruin my life with your mouth?

You lean in slightly, your voice low and wicked. “You want me to suck you off, Jungkook?”

He nods slowly . You swear he passes away in real time when you unclick your seatbelt.

“Wait,” he says suddenly, palms up like he’s calling a timeout. “Hold on. Are we… this is really happening?”

You smile all wicked. “Unless you want me to stop?”

He stares at you, mouth slightly open. “No! I mean… yes. I mean, wait. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Just— God, I sound like a virgin.”

“You kinda do,” you whisper, sliding closer to the drivers seat.

“I’m not, by the way,” he says quickly, then winces. “Not that it matters. I mean, it does. But not like that. I’ve just never.. not in a car—”

You press your finger gently to his lips. “Jungkook?”

“Hmm?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

And then your hand slides up his thigh.

Somewhere, above the clouds, there is a higher power that has been praying on his come-up, he swears.

He makes a noise. An animal dying in the zoo kind of noise. His head thunks lightly against the headrest and he closes his eyes like he’s making peace with God.

Jungkook is already half hard and you haven’t even done anything yet. You watch his chest rise and fall like he’s sprinted a mile, and you swear you can see the moment his brain physically leaves his body.

“You’re so tense,” you murmur, fingers brushing higher. “Told you.”

“I’m trying so hard not to die right now,” he says, voice ragged.

You giggle, leaning over the console to kiss his jaw, slow and deliberate. “Poor baby.”

He swallows like it’s painful. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“I do.”

“And I hate it.”

“No, you don’t,” You smile against his skin.

His hands hover awkwardly, like he doesn’t know what to do with them; should he touch you? Is that allowed? Is this a trap? Will he be smited? You reach over and gently guide one of his hands to the back of your neck.

“There,” you whisper. “See? Not so hard.”

He mutters under his breath, “Speak for yourself.”

You burst out laughing, and he groans, closing his eyes tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he says, half-laughing, half-dying. “I’m trying to be smooth. But you.. God, you’re just—”

“I’m what?”

He looks at you, eyes wild. “You’re.. you. You know? Just.. every guy in our friend group wants to fuck you. ”

“Is that a compliment?” You bat your lashes at him.

“It is. It is a huge compliment. Please continue.”

He should be arrested. No, seriously. Somebody should call the police. He should be handcuffed and tossed directly into horny jail because there is no way what you’re doing right now is allowed under the laws of God or man.

Your hand is still on his thigh, lingering dangerously close to his button. Your mouth — your actual, real-life mouth — is somewhere in the vicinity of his zipper. And Jungkook is trying so hard to play it cool but his brain is firing blank slides like a broken projector.

He grips the seat. The wheel. Himself. The back of your neck like you told him to.

You’re too calm. Too confident. Like you’ve done this before. Like you know exactly what kind of damage you’re about to inflict on his very mortal soul (which is rude, honestly.)

You drag the zipper down slow. Partly for dramatic effect. Mostly because your hands are suddenly shaky (not that you’d ever admit that out loud.)

You’ve been teasing him for far too long, riding the high of his nervous little stares and fumbling responses like it’s your favorite roller coaster. And up until now? You were untouchable, confident, the seductress in the passenger seat of his car.

You drag his jeans down, take a look at his black Calvin Klein boxers that you’re a little surprised he owns. You finally get your hand past the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down painfully slow.

You pause.

Gulp.

Because, um. That’s a lot.

Not in a humble, oh he’s hard kind of way. No. You mean that is a full-blown situation. A legitimate problem. Something you should’ve been briefed on ahead of time with a PowerPoint and maybe a warning label.

You glance up at him.

He’s already flushed and pink-lipped, panting like he just ran laps. Doesn’t even realize you’ve frozen mid-mission. Poor guy probably thinks you’re being seductive. He’s looking down at you with the dazed trust of a man who has no idea you’ve just had a spiritual crisis.

The driver’s console presses up against your boobs a little more as you wiggle closer to him, taking his length in your hand. It’s big. He’s big. Why is he not more smug about this? Why is he always so shy when he’s walking around with a whole weapon under there?

You feel a full-on identity shift coming. Like you might start paying for his gas. Or offering to make him soup. Like this might change the entire dynamic, and you’re suddenly the one nervously blinking up at him.

You look back down at his cock in your hand, observing the way every vein curves, the way his pink tip is wet with precum. It’s curved slightly, and is thick enough that you’re starting to question if it’ll even fit in your mouth.

Your fingertips give him one long stroke and he shudders, which makes your stomach flip. Okay, this is fine. You’re strong. You do Pilates. You’ve read Harry Styles fanfiction.

You steady yourself, take a breath, and blink again. One last internal scream for good measure. Then you smile up at him, all soft lips and fake confidence, and whisper, “You’re lucky I like a challenge.”

You watch the words hit him like a punch to the gut. His whole body tightens; shoulders, thighs, jaw, everything. He stares down at you like you just offered him his first taste of oxygen after being underwater for weeks.

He reaches out, slow but sure, and gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail with one trembling hand. His fingers flex at the base of your neck, and the move is so unexpectedly possessive that it sends heat curling low in your stomach.

His other hand drops to his thigh, clenched in a fist. His breathing’s all wrong, shallow and desperate. He bites his lip ring so hard you swear it might split skin, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse.

“Then take your time,” he says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You don’t say anything to that. You just lower your mouth and give him one single, kitten-soft lick from the base of his cock to tip, your eyes locked on his the entire time. No pressure, no rhythm. Just a soft, teasing taste. His skin is slightly salty with a tinge of sweetness, also some familiar soap you’ve smelled on him before.

His hips jerk violently, a sharp moan escaping his mouth before he can even try to swallow it. His grip in your hair tightens like a reflex with a choked, “F-fuck—”

You inhale once, deep and steady, and then slide your mouth over him in one slow, devastating stroke, past your lips and over your tongue. Until your nose brushes against his pubic bone and your throat stretches to accommodate every inch.

Jungkook lets out a deep, desperate groan that vibrates from somewhere low in his chest liike he wasn’t ready. Like he thought he knew what this would be and now he’s realizing, Oh no. Oh no, no, no, I was wrong. I’m in danger.

You don’t really give him time to recover. You set a rhythm until the obscene sound of gagging fills up the car, mingling with his panting and the slick noises of your mouth.

His hips jerk like they want to move but don’t dare. He’s panting your name between gasps, muttering nonsense, sentences with no real structure. “Oh my fuck — so good, I can’t —“

You hollow your cheeks just slightly. The effect is instant and he lets out this helpless whimper, one hand gripping the headrest behind him like he’s trying not to ascend, other one knotted in your hair.

You come up for air for one brief second, spit stringing between your lips and his cock, and before he can even look at you, you’re going right back down even faster this time.

His voice pitches. “Wait, wait, slow down, I’m—”

You don’t. Because you like the way his voice sounds right now, shaky and too high, like you’ve rewired every synapse in his body. You like how big he is, how heavy in your mouth. You also like the fact that he’s so obviously been thinking about this for as long as you have.

Your mascara’s already smudging, eyes glassy, cheeks streaked with tears, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.

He’s still unraveling above you and every single moan you wring out of him feels like a prize. His hand is fisted in your hair still, this time tighter, bolder, and he’s using it to push your head down even further.

Your throat’s raw, your lungs are burning, your jaw aches and none of it matters. Because you’ve got both hands working the rest of him, twisting and stroking whatever your mouth can’t reach, and every time you swirl your tongue over his tip, he lets out a new sound that makes you wetter.

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop, fuck,” He begs.

And you don’t. Of course you don’t. Because you’re evil. Beautiful and focused and slightly too good at this, and now he’s seconds from becoming a cautionary tale on Reddit.

You hum around him, the vibrations dizzying his brain. “I’m gonna crash the car without even moving it if you do that again, I swear,” He moans out.

Okay. So. You’re currently giving a blowjob in the front seat of Jungkook’s sad little car, and he’s moaning like it’s the rapture.

Cool, cool, cool.

You didn’t plan this, exactly. You were just trying to be hot and flirty and maybe mess with his head a little and now here you are.

His breaths are so shaky you think he’ll need an inhaler. He’s whispering please like you’ve got divine powers, which, honestly, right now? You do.

You pop your mouth off his cock for one second, glance up, and whisper, “You still breathing, Jungkookie?”

He looks down at you like he’s in love.

Another tear slips down your cheek from the sheer force of how you’re swallowing his cock whole. You used to doodle his name in your diary. Now you’re deepthroating him in a car like it’s your full-time job. What is wrong with you (Everything. And you don’t care.)

You used to wonder what he was like underneath all that quiet nervousness. Well. Now you know. He’s like this. Loud, sweaty, so responsive, and squirming under your touch like he’s never felt anything like this in his life.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god, you’re — shit, you’re perfect,” he gasps, eyes wide, voice cracking on every other word. “I can’t, baby, you’re gonna make me — fuck — cum.”

Baby? That’s new. That, you can work with.

You moan around him just to be cruel, and the reaction is instant: his thighs jerk, his head falls back, and he wails, hips twitching like his body’s trying to chase the high before it’s even hit. “I’m so fucking close, shit.”

You’re faring no better. You’re crying and choking and gagging and soaked between the legs and still going because the way he sounds when he falls apart? It’s addicting.

You circle your tongue once more around his tip, drag your hand faster up the base, and glance up through your wet lashes, eyes locking with his just long enough to see the moment he snaps. “Baby, I’m gonna cum, yesyesyesyes.”

His whole body seizes, abs tightening, lips parted around a strangled moan. He doesn’t even say your name, just gasps it, offers it up like a sacrifice. Warm and overwhelming, spilling past your tongue in slow pulses, you swallow his entire load. It doesn’t taste bad at all, it’s salty and warm and oddly satisfying. Tastes a little like success.

You sit up, all dainty and slow, like you didn’t just dismantle a grown man in a semi-legal parking lot. You stretch like you’re easing out of a yoga pose, then swipe your fingers across your bottom lip to wipe away the last trace of his cum. You look like you just got out of a Sephora, not off his cock.

Poor Jungkook is catatonic.He’s melted into the seat, completely slack, one hand limp against the window and the other cradling his own thigh like he needs emotional support. His chest is rising like he just ran a marathon and lost by a landslide. His dark hair is messily strewn over his eyes.

Because you’re heartless and delightful, you twist toward him and ask all cutesy: “Sooo… how long do you think it’ll take to get to my place from here?”

His head lolls in your direction. “What?”

You blink innocently. “You are still driving me home, right?”

“I-I can’t even feel my legs.”

“Not my problem,” you sing, clicking your seatbelt on again. “You said months ago I could ask you for a ride whenever, remember? That’s a verbal contract.”

He’s staring at you like you just kicked a puppy and then kissed it on the nose. “You’re… evil.”

You grin. “Flattered.”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I can’t believe I let you do that.”

“You didn’t let me,” you hum. “I begged you until you cracked.”

He groans again, louder this time. The sound vibrates through the car pathetically. His head drops against the steering wheel with a dull thud and stays there.

You glance out the windshield,“Anyway, if you take the expressway, I think we can make it to mine in like… fifteen minutes?”

“You’re insane,” He tuts against the steering wheel.

“True. But I’m also your ride-or-die now, apparently.”

He lifts his head with effort. Looks at you with the wide, shellshocked eyes of a man who knows he’ll never recover from this.

You smile at him sweetly, reaching over to squeeze his thigh again. He flinches at the comtact.

You bite your lip. “Still sensitive?”

“Don’t touch me,” he pleads, voice high and fragile.

You giggle like the monster you are. “Alright, alright,” you say, settling back in your seat as any law-abiding citizen. “Let’s go. Home sweet home.”

He starts the car with shaking hands. And as he pulls back onto the road, vision blurry, soul permanently altered he swears to himself he will never respond to your texts past midnight again.

(But he will.)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

note ; ok…. so this is no longer a blurb, i fear. i feel like this needs a title now but i also have no desire bc then it’ll be a thing. and i cannot have it be a thing bc i have 2039339 wip’s. but also them. jk spiraling over this blowjob, the friend group going crazy over it.. why is it giving toxic situationship with you not ready to commit and him being a mess? literally remove the pen from my hand. anyways this is all your guys’ fault (and also mine bc this is inspired by how my ex from 4 years ago and i started dating)

masterlist + request

[k-hotchoisan]

sticky web

<yunho x fem!reader>

when the Spiderman movie night with Yunho has its sticky complications because you're in a spider suit for him.

warnings: smut, pwp, suit fetish (kinda), reader is in a skin-tight venom suit, blow jobs, getting your lil suit dirty, unprotected sex, Spiderman movies and chill, Yunho fucking you through the suit, breeding kink

w/c: 2K

a/n: i'm posting this to appease my lovely readers (y'all) while I work thru your wonderful requests and my shitty writer's block )-: pls take this peace offering! <3 you know i love you guys sm 🩷 (also if you're wondering, spidey isn't my fav superhero but Dr Oct is one of my fav villains!!)

“You're really gonna get him fucked up when he sees you in this”, your friend teases, zipping your body con suit up. “His own girlfriend? Dressing up in a venom suit?”  

You roll your eyes playfully. “It's a reminder that I'll be his little Symbiote.” 

You look over to the mirror, feeling slightly subconscious at how much the suit is just hugging your curves despite how impressively breathable it was. And the reminder that you weren't wearing it out, at least for now, comforted you, mostly because, well, you weren't really wearing anything underneath this body hugging attire.

You had invited Yunho over for a Spiderman movie marathon to spend the Friday night, and the way his eyes lit up when you did? It's the cutest thing ever. You did your best to boost the ambiance too–dying the popcorn with red and blue sugar dyes, making spider web and spider-shaped cookies alongside some crystal candy that fit the theme for that extra crunch.

The doorbell rings, and you jump immediately to answer it when your phone reflects the text of Yunho mentioning that he's reached. 

Unfortunately, you did severely underestimate the effect it had on Yunho, because the moment you opened the door, Yunho definitely got distracted, evident by the reddening of his ears when his gaze rests on your cute little costume. 

You did tell Yunho to come in costume too, and he definitely did–in a red and blue spiderman patterned hoodie and red shorts. 

“What? Don't you like my costume?” You poke for an answer, giving Yunho a full spin, missing the way Yunho swallowing hard, trying not to eye fuck you. 

“You're… definitely dressed for the part”, Yunho manages out, his slender fingers covering his lips and nose, hoping you don't realise that he's growing as red as his hoodie.

He watches the material hugging your body tug and fit you just right, pulling at just the right places corresponding to your movements, and his feels his fingers twitch. 

Yunho turns away, his attention on the assortment of food presented on the table. 

“Red and blue popcorn?” He questions with a raised eyebrow as he settles onto the couch.

“It's just sugar dye”, you assure, sliding next to him, picking up a kernel, pressing it against his lips, your other hand mimicking the same action but to your own lips. Yunho smiles as he chews, the sweetness spreading all over his taste buds. 

“What should we watch first? Should we start all the way from the first Spiderman movie?” You suggest flickering through all the Spiderman movies back to the first. Yunho nods in agreement, stuffing his mouth with a couple more colourful popcorn. Pressing play, you absentmindedly huddle yourself against your partner, not that he minded, and Yunho lets his hands curl around your waist. 

Yunho is engrossed in the first thirty minutes of the movie, periodically munching on the snacks as the flick plays. 

You're leaning lazily against his arm, letting Yunho feed you from time to time, mostly because you didn't want to get your costume dirty. 

He blinks, wondering if he saw wrongly–your nipples poking through the fabric.

You're not wearing a bra underneath or anything?

Yunho shakes the thought off, trying to focus on the movie. Unfortunately his peripherals can't help but betray him, ever so slightly always trailing back to you. 

You look up at him from below, and point to the popcorn. 

“Yu, I want one more”, you request. Of course your boyfriend would feed you another one. When his fingers linger a little too long on your lips, you realise that his eyes aren't on the screen. 

He's staring at you. 

“Someone’s distracted”, you point out with a smirk.

You straddle his lap. 

The movie is paused.

Yunho’s hands are running up your body, and even though it's separated by a layer of fabric, his touches give you goosebumps.

“I can't concentrate when you're looking like this”, he mutters to your lips, and you feel his palm grab a handful of your ass. 

“Then concentrate on this”, you redirect, pulling him into a dizzy kiss–one that's just filled with moans and teasing. The both of you taste sweet, thanks to the popcorn.

 You're rubbing against his erection while he dry fucks you, and you're both not lasting long. 

You climb off him and sink to face his thick erection. Soft sighs as vibrations through the fabric of his shorts make Yunho shiver too. You palm his little problem, and hearing him groan while spreading his legs open is enough to make you clench your thighs. 

Pulling his shorts down, your heartbeat accelerates at his fucking length–precum trickling down his bare cock, veins so thick and prominent.

Your tongue travels up his thick length, and your mind almost go dumb when you feel Yunho’s fingers tug against your scalp. You look up at him through your lashes, visually savouring the way he's getting undone with your lips around his cock, in his favourite costume. Yunho wants you to just choke you on his dick, maybe get his cum dripping down your tits on the tight fabric. 

He only grows bigger in your mouth at the perverted thought and the way your eyes are slowly watering from his dick reaching to the back of your throat? He's not lasting long.

“Shit, that feels so fucking good”, Yunho groans, throwing his head back, pushing your head deeper, enjoying the sick sounds of you choking. Your mind is flooded with how good Yunho feels and fills your mouth, and it’s making you soak through your costume. 

Yunho groans with every squeeze your throat gives him, pushing himself to hit the back of your throat.

“Gonna cum in your tight pretty mouth. You're gonna swallow it all, yeah?”

You nod quickly, trying to keep up the pace of him fucking your mouth. With a strained groan, his cock pulses in your mouth, warm cum seeping through, and it makes your mind so dizzy. 

“Open”, he instructs, and you do, letting some of cum sleep past the corner of your lips and down your throat, then down onto your tits. 

Yunho is getting harder.

Yunho grabs you and throws you over his shoulder, leaving you surprised, and he marches into your bedroom, then drops you onto your bed. 

“Yunho-” you squeal when you feel his fingers press against the soaked fabric hiding your pussy. 

“It's in the way, don't you think?” He asks rhetorically, eyeing the way the damp patch grows bigger when he massages it against your sticky folds, making you bite your lip. Of course you're not wearing any fucking underwear. Yunho should have realised. 

Unfortunately, Yunho doesn't have the patience to take his sweet time to look for the zipper, so he does the more sensible thing–ripping a fucking hole at where your pussy is. 

You blink in shock.

Shit, he really ripped a fucking hole down there. 

You furrow your eyebrows. 

“Yunho! This wasn't cheap!” You pout, closing your legs in protest with much futile effort, considering his arms are keeping them open.

He looks at you with indifference. “Then I'll get you a new one. Promise.”

Yunho grabs your thighs and drags you closer to him. His cum on his dick dribbles onto the suit, and Yunho smears it further, sliding his cock down, pressing it up against your creamy and puffy folds, with almost little to no friction. 

“I was thinking of how far I can ruin this suit anyway.”

He swears he's fucking blessed–his gorgeous partner making such an adorable movie date night of his favourite character, dressing up for the occasion, and letting him fuck her dumb in this cute spider suit? He couldn't ask for more.

Your eyes slowly roll back when you feel Yunho’s cock push into your warm pussy, filling you up almost instantly. You hiss softly at the pressure, feeling your tight walls trying to accommodate him. 

“So warm. Oh, fuck,” Yunho groans, already losing himself in your heat. He’s gotten a little more sensitive but he's gonna make it last as much as he can.

There's something so perverted that Yunho enjoys so much–fucking you fully clothed like this. He realises it gets him off so fast. He watches hungrily–the way your tits bounce under the suit when he thrusts deep into you, and how it's as if he's fucking you through the thin suit. His fingers trail up to your tits, and his thumb brushes against your bare nipples that harden under the fabric, throwing you into an additional layer of pleasure.

“Have I told you that you look fucking delicious in this? The Symbiote suits you so well.” 

It's hard to formulate an answer when your boyfriend is fucking your brains out like this, but you know he doesn't mind the silence and the broken moans–it’s your answer.

A couple more heavy thrusts into you, the wet sounds accompanying your sobs before he instructs you to turn around for him.

You go on fours, and Yunho wastes little time to pin your head down onto the mattress by your neck before he fits in wet dick right into you again.

His free hand wanders across your ass, then he gives it a tight slap, making you squeal and tighten on him.

You're clawing the sheets, the pleasure filling you up and you can't concentrate on anything else other than Yunho’s cock filling in and out of you, hitting your sweet spots over and over again. You've surely soiled the costume to hell, but honestly, at least Yunho was making full use of it. 

“So good”, you mutter, your pussy clamping down on the feeling of Yunho stretching you out with his fingers pressing the sides of your throat. You swear you were drooling.

“Is it?” Another heavy thrust. 

Oh shit, you're not sure how much more you could handle. And it seems that Yunho is in a similar situation–his thrusts are getting heavier and sloppier. His mind is in the gutter now, especially when he's forced to watch your pussy leak sticky cream down your folds and stain your inner thighs, mixed with his cum. 

“Cumming-” you cry, your legs shaking. “So good. Can't think-”

“Make a mess for me, babe”, Yunho chuckles, his palm stroking your ass, grabbing a handful before he fucks himself deep once more.

Your mind melts with your orgasm hitting you in waves, your pussy convulsing uncontrollably on his dick, your moans forming a melody for his ears, and it pushes him far enough to make a mess in you, thick and warm cum filling you up that you’re forced to take. You hear him curse and groan behind you, and you drop your hips onto the bed, his cock popping out of you, completely covered in a glisten of cum, some still seeping out from his cock head.

He tugs your ruined folds open, watching his thick cum leak out of your spent hole, dripping onto your thighs, soaked up by the suit. Yunho takes in the sight of you panting, with probably more than half of the suit soiled with fluids, and your pussy, other than your face, both uncovered and in a complete mess. 

Fuck, he just might get hard again. 

“Yunho, this isn't a good idea–fuck”, you whimper, completely losing yourself to him once more. 

Yunho had washed you up a little after that, and he wouldn't let you take off the suit, at least, not yet. You thought finally, maybe you and him could actually watch a Spiderman movie or two, but when Yunho pulled you onto his lap, you knew that plan was out of the window considering that he got hard again, and had you seated right on his cock. None of you are focusing on the movies. 

“Don't be mad at me, babe. I'm just making sure that I make full use of this movie night you're giving me”.

Another thrust into your spent pussy once more, and your thoughts leave your head. 

He's certain of having you fucked and filled with his sticky web by the end of the first movie, that's for sure.

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3@mcarebearsstuff. @choisansplushie @pre1ttyies @hwallazia  @yeosangiess @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @skteezcursed @jeon-ify @miss-fallon @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319  @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn @vic0921 @sanhwajoong @bitejoongie @no1likevie @jwnghyuns @everythingboutkpop @skz1-4-3  @minalizasworld @seomisaho @tunafishyfishylike @songmingisthighs @comicnerd557 @yuyusgirl

[suguann]

Ex-husband!Gojo who doesn’t understand that the parents (mostly the moms who try to hide behind their giant sunglasses) at Mio’s soccer games talk, and he chooses today to pull you into his lap. Several sideways glances cast your way at how cozy you both must look as you watch your four-year-old daughter run in the wrong direction across the field because she got distracted by a butterfly.

He doesn’t hear what they talk about—aren’t they divorced? I’ve never seen anyone divorced act like that—or (worse) when they try to be subtle about their probing into Satoru’s dating life while you stand there with a stilted smile plastered onto your face. 

(More than likely, he’s listened to every word and doesn’t give it the same amount of thought or care as you do.)

“Gojo,” you hiss, trying to move off his lap to no avail. “I have my own chair.”

“Can you still call me that if it’s your name too?”

A huff. “Go bother somebody else—”

“Shh,” he tells you, tugging you further against his chest. “You’re missing the game. Mio’s finally found her way back onto the field again.”

“But everyone’s staring at us.” You catch the eye of a mother tearing into a pack of fruit snacks.

“So? Let them stare.”

Everyone starts cheering, and you both watch Mio chase the ball down the field, her little body ducking between the taller kids. 

“That’s my girl!” Gojo shouts over the other parents.    

And then Mio kicks the ball into— 

The wrong goal.

“Maybe we should have let her join t-ball,” you whisper, though you both clap as your daughter starts doing not-quite cartwheels in the middle of the field.

Ex-husband!Gojo who still does work around the house every Friday, and to your dismay, shirtless now that the weather is warmer.

The plate in your hands has a few scuffs, half of a cartoon character’s face scrubbed off to oblivion that Mio will have something to say about later. Doing everything to stop from staring out into the yard where he’s mowing the lawn because the window is right there, above the sink, to tempt you.

It’s difficult when his chest glistens with sweat from the early-summer heat and how those stupid gray cotton shorts (that you know he picked out with the sole purpose of torturing you) sit dangerously low on his hips— 

He looks towards the kitchen window, a crooked smile stretching across his lips. The blood rushing to your brain, that must be what makes you give a sudsy wave and cause heat to creep into your middle.

Ex-husband!Gojo who strolls into your room while you’re putting away laundry one afternoon, and unsurprisingly shirtless as he crowds you against the dresser. Front to back. His mouth at your ear.

That steady resolve you pride yourself in crumbles at your feet, and you swallow the tiny, helpless sound working its way up your throat. A slippery thing that slips out. “Satoru…”

“You know, these little shorts were always my favorite,” he tells you, his fingers playing with the elastic waistband.

“Were they?”

“Don’t you remember? Couldn’t get them out of the way fast enough.”

Your mouth is dry, something playing in a loop in the back of your brain. Early morning, breakfast cooling on the stove, crumbs stuck to your cheek, these shorts dangling off the leg propped up on the counter—

“Where’s Mio?”

A kiss to your nape, a knowing smile. “Taking a nap.”

Ex-husband!Gojo who works your shorts and underwear off your legs before pulling you to the edge of the bed. 

“Satoru, we—we can’t keep doing this—”

Your words trail off into a moan when he slaps your clit with the leaky tip of his cock, and wet sounds echo in the room.

“Yeah? Go on, baby,” he tells you, slowly splitting you open, stuffing you full, two puzzle pieces slotting perfectly into place like it should be (how it’s always been). “Tell me some more why we can’t keep doing this.” 

You can’t, not with how he’s filling you up in the way only he knows how. Not when he hooks two thick fingers into your mouth because you’re getting too loud, pinning you against the bed with your cheek buried into your pillow, every sound choking into nothing.

You wriggle underneath him, fingers clawing at the comforter and your back arching.

“Christ, look at you,” he growls, leaning over you, teeth bared. “Fucking look at you. You needed this, didn’t you?”

Ex-husband!Gojo who presses what leaks out back inside you with his thumb after he pulls out, wet and sticky circles between your legs until you fall apart again with a soft cry. His thumb is there again, at your entrance, pushing and stopping like a plug, muttering something under his breath that sounds like, “Can’t waste it.” 

And quieter, “Maybe it’ll take.”

(Who knows?

Maybe it will. Worse things have happened.)

Ex-husband!Gojo who stays for dinner for the fourth time that week, and none of the reasons have been because Mio asked if he could. It’s more about the fact that you’ve enjoyed how whole your family feels again, that you can pretend for a moment this is what you do every night.

(How it was probably always going to come back to this.) 

That your wedding ring doesn’t sit in the back of your sock drawer, and his isn’t tucked away in his wallet. That you don’t feel guilty when you think about saying I love you or wishing he’d stay longer—

“Daddy, you gonna lose,” Mio tells Satoru as Mario Kart appears on the screen.

“We’ll see,” he laughs, tugging on one of her pigtails until she’s giggling and swatting his hand away.

You lean back against the couch, watching them with a small smile you share with Satoru over your daughter’s head.

[luveline]

hi lovely, was wondering if you would be able to write any hotch x bombshell!reader ? maybe before they got together or any scenario/prompt you feel like!

take care of yourself and have a great day!!💝💝

The problem with Aaron Hotchner is that he’s too lovely for his own good. He might not think of himself that way. Not many, if any, of the office would agree. Morgan thinks Hotch is a hard-ass and Elle likes him in her way, but she rolls her eyes when he gets snippy, and Spencer… well, you think you and Spencer are probably on the same page. 

Hotch is kind, and a good man, and if he looks handsome when he’s frustrated that’s just how nature intended it to be. 

“Stop it.” 

“No.” 

“Stop.” Hotch levels you with a look over his computer. You’re surprised he knows how to use it, considering the semi-permanent callus on the pointer finger of his right hand. You must’ve watched him pen a thousand case files, consults and forms in a love letter to the old ways. 

He types slowly, but you’ve decided to keep your comment about it to yourself. “You’re looking at me like you know something I don’t,” he says. 

“Maybe I do.” 

“I’m sure you do. Stop bragging.” 

You lean on your elbow on the desk. He’s got a file open in front of him he’s transcribing for the sake of security. It details a case from a few months ago, and each line of the investigation is printed in Hotch’s neat script, lilting to the left over time. He frowns as he turns a page and realises it’s practically margin to margin with detail.

You want to offer to do it for him, but he’ll say no. You want to slide your foot up the leg of his slacks to see if he’ll blush as he did last Friday when you’d done the same thing, Gideon in the doorway none the wiser and somehow disapproving regardless. 

And Hotch, he’d laughed like a kid when the door closed, not turned on in the slightest but endeared by the guts it took you to try. Then he’d sort of enticed you around the desk somehow —you don’t remember the before of it, only slinking to his side with your heels tumbled on their sides under the desk still, his palms wide and open as you settled on a wooden corner. 

“I’m pretty good on the computer.” 

“I know,” Hotch says. “I authorised your computing and communications technology seminar myself.” 

“I was good at it before the mandatory company training garbage,” you say without heat, wondering how you might entice him over your side of the desk. Flirting aloud doesn’t work. Neither does footsie, and besides, what fun is that for you? But he’d looked at you in this strange way, none of his commanding sternness about him. A smile lingered on his lips; he can’t have known he was smiling at all, or it wouldn’t have shown. He’d left something honest there for you to see. 

Maybe it’s in your best interest to let down your own walls for a minute, too. 

“I could help,” you say. “Perhaps not from the same file, but I can get the laptop and start on the Maryland stuff. If you like.”

He looks at you steadily over the computer. His eyes seem lighter, the suspicious set to his mouth oddly close to smiling. “What do you want?” he teased quietly. 

“Nothing. Just figured it would make your life easier.”

“When have you ever made my life easier?” 

Your smile slips before you can stop it. Immediately, Hotch isn’t smiling either. The, “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that, honey,” almost doesn’t reach you, over that sharp second of hurt. 

“It’s fine.” You plaster on a smile again to save him the trouble. “I know you didn’t.” 

“No, really. I didn’t mean that.”

“Hotch,” you say, thumbing over his name slowly, “I know. We were teasing.” 

“Flirting,” he corrects. 

Your smile is real, then. “Flirting?” you ask. “That’s rather forward. Flirting might imply we like one another enough to, oh, I don’t know, help each other with our overflowing workloads?” 

He looks at you, all dark and him, steady, strong, all the stupid things that draw you in. You’re not just in it for his arms, however tightly corded they might seem when he’s pulling off his tie after a long day. “You do more than enough for me just sitting there,” he says, holding your gaze with a careful casualness that has your heart tripping in your chest. “Can you do that for me?” 

“Do what? Just sit here looking pretty?” 

His shoe touches your ankle. “Exactly,” he says quietly. “Just sit there exactly as you are. I promise I don’t need anything else from you.” 

Warmed from the inside out, you sit back in your chair. Grinning like a fool. “Why didn’t you just say that?” you ask. Any chance at sounding casual is lost when your voice comes out gossamer thin. 

He looks you over appraisingly. “See?” he says, turning back to his case file. “Thank you, honey. You’re a big help.” 

You swing one leg over the other to get comfortable, crossing your arms over your stomach smugly. “I know.” 

[burymagdalene]

Chateau Lobby #4 - S. Reid x Reader

Whilst trying to navigate romantic relationships after prison, Spencer finds himself in love and caught in an all-too-serious non-relationship with reader. Wanting to break this streak, he asks to spend Valentine's Day properly with a real date. Afterward, they find themselves desperate with trying to express their love for each other.

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader genre: Smut (18+ pls pls), fluff, and maybe a bit of angst at the start tags: switch!Spencer, blowjob, fingering, a bit of munch!Spencer, pinv sex, age gap (not explicit, but I was foaming at the mouth thinking about it while writing), praise, riding, creampie, lots of teasing and love… all that jazz. wc: 6.9k ;-) a/n: Happy Valentine's Day! I had to name this one after essentially the best love song ever. I kiss all of you!

Work is grueling as usual, couples flooded the diner you work at for their pre- Valentine’s Day festivities with flowers in hand and shit eating grins plastered to stay.

Yet, you’re off soon and you can taste your freedom just like the stale coffee you’ve been throwing back all day as the bell to the front door jingles with more fervor than usual,

“I want to take you out. Properly. Friday. It’ll be a good, proper, date. Yeah.”

You blink in bewilderment, apron tied around your waist as Spencer proposes your first actual date at the kitschy restaurant you work at. 

After Spencer got out of prison, his perceptions around a genuine connection in a relationship seemed to be as distant a reality as the person who he was before prison. Upon meeting you, a small radiant glow around you at all times as you poured him his coffee during his lunch breaks beckoned him into this altercation he’s in now with you.

The dull incessant nagging on his shoulder at all times whispering his new inadequacies in relationships has steered him into a solitude state he has never experienced before. You couldn’t possibly stoop so low to fall for an ex-convict? Would he even call himself that? Would you? 

Most importantly, he had no idea how to steer a relationship before this complete 180 in his life, and now he’s even more lost to the tenderness he’s craving so deeply it hurts to even give himself a taste of optimism within the relationship he’s developed with you.

Spencer has somehow held himself back from you in all these months in such a critical way that it has resulted in a bond which the concept of he’s priorly abhorred. You only have sex. 

Well, that’s kind of impossible for him. Only sex. But every time he’s seen you, been with you alone, it has led to sweat mingling and his dry whining. You two can’t help but to talk about your lives, your passions, can’t help but give each other sickening support and kindness that makes him nervously chew the skin of his thumbnail. 

Despite how much he thinks about something genuine between you two, in reality, he just gets scared. Simply put. He has seen and been through unimaginable horrors, it scares him to bare that to another person, to someone who brings aid to him. Pushing you away in any sort is not something he can handle, so instead he’s managed to come up with a only slightly agonizing set up for the both of you.

It’s better than confessing completely and inevitably driving you away with his damages. 

Except, this clearly hasn’t worked out. It’s February, he’s been seeing you every weekend for months and Spencer cannot bear the thought of taking all of your time like this and you getting nothing on Valentine’s Day. It sickens him, it strikes him one night. If you told him that some other guy you were seeing had put you in the exact situation he’s put you in, and you’re not even receiving flowers and an all expenses paid dinner on Valentine’s Day, he’d personally show up to his apartment and kill him.

 So he’s finally stepped up.

A sweep of bravery flooded his senses on his lunch break, and he was up on his feet walking to where he knows you are at this time without even thinking.

Your manager, however, was not as excited about this distracting public confession, and grumbled out a prompt for you to leave early before causing a further hindrance, and now you two are sitting next to each other on the curb outside. 

Spencer is staring holes into the side of your smiling face as you pick a loose string from your jeans.

“I can’t believe you asked me out at work,” you giggle and shift your gaze at him for a split second “didn’t really know if you even liked me.”

“What? Of course I like you, you’re the only person I spend time with.”

“Hm. Yeah, it’s just confusing sometimes. I really like you, but usually when guys like you back they want to take you out, ha.”

You end your sentence with a dry laugh that explains to Spencer how you’ve been feeling throughout the time you’ve been sleeping together. 

“I’m so sorry. I just- I thought it would be easier on you. Than for you to actually be with me. Why didn’t you mention anything?”

You sniff, like knowing that what you’re about to say is probably a bit too mean to say to someone who just asked you to be his valentine.

“Why should it be on me to say something, you don’t tell me anything. Nothing about how you feel about me, apparently. I never said anything because I was going to put up with whatever until you dropped me because I care about seeing you too much.”

That makes Spencer shift his gaze to his own knees in front of him.

“Yeah, I’m unfair. I guess I just assumed that because you’re more confrontational than I am.”

“Am I though?”

Spencer sighs, with how many times you’ve dogged on him for certain things he’s said or done, yes. But you’ve never really mentioned how the relationship was impacting you, it’s easier for you to bring up menial topics to him, he guesses. 

“No, you’re not.” He finalizes.

You huff out a laugh and place a kiss on his blazer-clad shoulder– a peace offering. Grabbing his arm, you pull his jacket sleeve up to check the time. 

“I’m gonna drive home before you have to go back to work. I’m sorry I was mean. I’m really excited to go on a date with you friday. I’ve never had a Valentine’s Day date.” 

Standing up, you brush off your concrete imprinted palms on the back of your jeans before tilting up Spencer’s chin (he’s remains utterly still sitting on the curb) to meet your gaze. He looks away slightly to your shoes and rests his forehead against your stomach, a wordless apology as he nods against you. 

Again, you place your palms to his cheeks to look at you, he’s always had a problem with maintaining eye contact for long periods of time.

“And…you mr. gentleman, are you excited to wine and dine me?”

Spencer’s kicked-puppy look dissipates as his love-struck smile takes its place.

“Yes. I actually think it’s going to be the best night I’ve had since… maybe since I’ve met you.”

Smiling, you’re satisfied.

“That’s right. Okay, Spencer. Thank you. I’ll see you Friday.”

You try to suppress your grin as you spin away on your heels, but Spencer catches it before you turn and it heats his frigid body from sitting outside for so long. How has he been so dumb all this time? Somehow it being easy with you, painfully easy to be treated tenderly by you, since the beginning has slipped his mind. Of course, an actual relationship with you would come as naturally as it has since you started. 

He’s never been so sure of it. 

✵

Spencers looking at himself in the bathroom mirror as the bouquet he picked up for you and the personally annotated book he’s giving you sit on his kitchen table, awaiting his arrival to put their still existence into motion. 

He knows you well, he’s intently stored away every single piece of information you have given him. He knows everything you’ve been through, the best day of your life, what turns you on so much you get embarrassed… so on and so forth. Yet, he’s staring at his pre-date reflection right now seeing how his face has drained of all color. 

The restaurant he picked has been mentioned by Rossi a few times as a favorite. Fancy, Italian, expensive, and Spencer was able to get a reservation by the skin of his teeth for Valentine’s Day because he (regrettably) had to pull a “I know David Rossi, yeah..” on the phone a few days ago. 

So he should be rather prepared, he knows where you’re going, he’s been on a date before, sure. Yet…

Spencer flicks off the light in his bathroom to force himself away from the mirror, agonizing over his face isn’t productive in the least. You already know what he looks like. 

He drives in complete silence to your apartment, he’s already anxious as ever and he has to be behind the wheel, which is not his forte. But the thought of seeing you in the passenger seat glowing after a fancy meal appeals to him so greatly his stomach swirls.

Spencer’s early, of course. He couldn’t not be. He was probably ready for the date 3 hours before the time he said he would pick you up at. With this day off he’s been able to sit and pace and freak out for hours. Great. 

When he knocks with the fist holding the book for you he hears frantic scrambling for thirty seconds or so before you swing the door open– 

“Spencer!” You gasp belatedly when you see the flowers, “oh my god! Come in, I need to put my shoes on and I’m good to go.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, so pretty…” Spencer mumbles against the top of your head when you pull him into a greeting hug.

“Mmm. Happy Valentine’s Day. You smell good.”

You can’t help yourself, wrapping your arms around Spencer’s neck and pulling him into a kiss immediately. All too easy, you’re used to your mouths working furiously together. It's like another language for you.

But Spencer is pulling away slightly, speaking against your lips, “I'm trying to take you on a date first.”

Groaning lightly you start kissing him again, resulting in his hands placed on your waist slowly peeling you off him. Spencer's hands and lips have a mind of their own though, his hands are firmly pushing you off as his lips chase yours as you separate.

Laughing, you tilt your head to one side to inspect him, “So after the date you’ll get me home by 8:00 and give me a chaste kiss goodnight?”

Spencer chuckles and shakes his head at your toying. 

“If you’ll let me, I’ll fuck you after the date. But, sure I’ll also give you a chaste goodnight kiss, though it’s 7:30 so you can rule out being home by 8:00. Sorry.” He pulls in his lips and raises his eyebrows as if to say, that’s that. 

“If I’ll let you?”

“Right.”

“Mmkay.”

“And… if you like it I can do that again and again,” he chuckles and rubs his forehead with his palm, “and then I’ll take you on a second date.”

You avert your eyes to hide the tell tale signs of you flustered, hating whenever he gets the upper hand in flirting because you can not take it as well as Spencer can when you dish it out.

“Whatever-” whipping your head around trying to locate your shoes Spencer giggles under his breath, your presence has totally eased his nerves. He watches you pick up your heeled boots and he kneels slowly in front of you to place them on your feet.

“You’re sweet,” at your words Spencer smiles to himself and zips up the sides of your boots. “I’m so excited for the rest of the night if this is gonna be my treatment.”

“What? Princess treatment? You should be excited, I’m going to be cutting your food and feeding it to you.”

“Ooh. Waving me with a big leaf and feeding me grapes?”

“Something like that. Yeah.” He smiles and stands up, grasping your hands to help you up. “Very pretty. You look beautiful.”

“You look beautiful too,” you poke his side, “I love this maroon tie. I wish you would let me kiss you.”

Spencer sighs at your dramatics and cups your face for a soft kiss. You sigh into it and he kisses your neck once in finality. 

“Better?”

Smiling bashfully, you nod. 

✵

The looks of the restaurant struck you immediately, and there is a nervous prickling at your spine that happens when you’re in fancier places than you think you deserve– a feeling of being a persona non grata. 

To hide your insecurity, you grasp Spencer’s hand as he tells the hostess the reservation name and whistle lowly below your breath at the long draping lace curtains around the room and the barely-there candlelight illuminating the entirety of the restaurant. 

Sitting down, you immediately start the date with a joke that falls flat, “So, do you take all your ladies here on the first date?”

Either Spencer thought the joke was distasteful or he didn’t get it, either way he furrowed his brows and shifted his eyes to the side for a moment like he’s looking around for a translation from a bystander.

“No?”

“I’m just- yeah, I’m kidding. Sorry. I’m nervous.”

“I was really nervous before getting you tonight, my hair… I don’t know.”

“Ha, seriously?” Unbelievable you think, his hair is slightly wind ruffled and his curls look ringlet-y, you never could wrap your head around the tales of the plain mean teasing over his looks he’s lived through. “You’re extremely handsome, I tell you that.”

“You do. I wanted to impress you.”

“You do.” 

The whole dinner fills your stomach with butterflies that mixes extraordinarily well with whatever red wine Spencer ordered for the two of you. It has you leaning forward when you laugh, has you running your foot up and down the inside of his calf, causing his voice to spike up two octaves whenever you trail up slowly.

Spencer halts your movements quickly though, grabbing lightly at your ankle to stop its ministrations, making you hum around your fork and him roll his eyes light heartedly. 

The night was going very well once your romantic jitters melted away into a comfortability you felt you could only possess when around Spencer, something nobody else has given you before. 

It was utterly ridiculous, feeling so lovey dovey, you can see how the holiday has some emotional merit to it and isn’t just a capitalist money grab to drain the pockets of couples and make single women feel unworthy. Though maybe you’re just feeling that because you’re not on the victims end of the money grab, regardless…

On the other side of the booth, Spencer has been spiralling into a clusterfuck of thoughts around how much more deeply invested he is in you than he thought. You’re here though, you didn’t turn down his proposal and you kept mentioning how excited you are.

Still, every exhale out of his lungs is a shudder in fear of a looming rejection of an inquisition he’s not even sure he’s going to ask, or if it’s already set in place. Are you dating? 

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Um, ahh, um, are we dating?’

What an idiot!

You burst out laughing. Jesus, he must’ve been sick mulling over the aftermath of the date going back to your former dynamic of who even knows what. You couldn’t possibly live with the idea either, but are probably more keen on living in the moment than Spencer.

“You wanna date me? Be my boyfriend?” Your laughter is trailing off, but you have a smile as you say it from giddiness rather than mocking.

A gust of air then, “More than anything.”

The chilly air outside that was previously cooling both of your anxieties upon entering the restaurant meets the same warm cheeks for an opposing reason now. Hand in hand, you walk with full bellies back to Spencer’s car.

Filled with the first secure sense of trust and vulnerability in your life, hand in hand you swing your arms together like a lovesick teenager. 

All hesitation around what you could do or say to drive Spencer away flies out into the abrasive February air and off with the wind, so you ask, 

“When, if you know, did you first realize that you.. like-liked me?”

“Like-like huh? Haven’t heard that one in a while.” Spencer opens the passenger side door for you and guides you in with a palm on your lower back. He watches you buckle yourself in and leans his arms against the top of the car, looking down at where you’re seated he contemplates his answer seriously.

“I knew I like-liked you once I first saw you brushing your teeth in my bathroom the first night you stayed over. Hm. Yeah, I was watching from the doorway in awe, and seeing you do something so… banal, and it tearing me open. I wanted to see it every night.” He shuts the door and walks to his side as you sit staring out the window where he once was.

Spencer turns his car key, putting on your seat warmer before his own, and rubs your cheek with his thumb. “I really enjoyed myself tonight.”

“I first knew I loved you when you picked me up from work when it was raining. I’m not even sure what, but seeing your wet hair and maybe that getting your suit wet didn’t matter at all to you… I just felt so… I went home and stared at my hands all wet for like an hour. Then I woke up the next day with a cold, ha. I’m… so, yeah.”

You know what you said, you’re not shocked it came out and you didn’t want to really avoid it anymore with frivolous watered-down terms. 

Spencer laughs and places his forehead against the wheel at a stoplight. “You’re perfect. I can’t believe it, I’m so lucky and you’re so perfect and I realized I love you now in the same way I realized I did when you were in my bathroom. It feels the same.”

✵

Now you’re back at Spencer’s apartment. Head tilted up and pressed against his front door as he’s fumbling with taking off your coat while simultaneously kissing away your lipstick, it rubbing on his chin in a smudged crimson streak.

Your thumbs are looped through the belt hoops in his trousers as you’re pulling his hips against your own.

Spencer always has a way of kissing you that feels all consuming, and you think you cannot possibly kiss anyone else in your life without implementing everything you’ve learned about kissing Spencer. Every kiss in your future would be executed to roll Spencer Reid’s eyes back, you can’t possibly kiss anyone ever again.

Sucking on your top lip, he flings your coat to the ground and wraps his greedy arms around your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer to him. 

It’s almost a grounding exercise within itself to make out with Spencer, you can’t possibly hear, feel, see or taste anything other than him when he’s this way. The universe exists solely between your lips and the way your overactive brains become a fuzzy-soft blend of peace when you’re passing your tongues between mouths is placating.

Still puppeteering Spencer through his belt hoops, you move him towards his worn leather couch you’ve associated his scent with. Spencer is sat with his legs spread open in a lazy manspread as you stand and look down at him.

“Should I sit?” You poke teasingly, knowing by the dick print shining through his trousers that he could beg for it pretty easily. Spencer nods slowly, pulling his hands from his sides to grab onto your hips to pull you down.

You stop him though, arm placed firmly on his shoulder, halting yourself from falling onto him. You would like to hear how badly he wants it. 

“Woah, tiger. I think I asked you something, no?” you’re laughing plainly at the grovelling face he makes that you know he doesn’t realize he’s making. Ever the overreaction. 

“Yes. You should sit.” He grumbles.

“Why?”

“Because I know how much you like to feel yourself against me when you’re needy like this, and…I want to do everything for you. Because if I don’t have you against me soon I’m going to fall apart.”

Sounds good enough.

Humming happily you straddle Spencer’s lap and reattach your lips onto his, welcoming the inevitable swollen look with no complaint. Without hesitation, you wiggle your hips contentedly against his crotch. Spencer's sharp inhale of pleasure never gets old. 

 Cupping your jaw into his warm hands he whispers against your lips, “This a good enough reason, or should I give you one more?”

Gasping lightly against the friction you’re creating you respond, “Sounds like you want to give me another reason anyway.”

“I can always feel the way you tighten your legs around my hips. It happens almost instantly every time… like you have to brace yourself to feel me against you. I can always tell how badly you want it.”

He’s mumbling against your neck as he says it, partly because he can feel your pulse race against his lips and partly to hide how red he gets when he feels brave enough to talk this dirty to you.

Once he starts sucking a mark onto the sensitive part of your neck, every nerve in your body is on high alert to each move he makes and you need to part, if only briefly, to regain your composure, you’re all too frazzled, a live wire.

“Spence, can I suck you off?”

The pained half-groan half-laugh Spencer lets out is exactly what you expected to hear as you crawl down on the floor between his legs, rubbing his thighs up and down with open palms. 

“Y-yeah. Um. Why should you, I mean, why should I let you?”

He’s failing miserably at trying to make a call back to your prior teasing, too impacted by the visual of you between his thighs to make a coherent, taunting remark. 

“Because I’m supposed to be getting the princess treatment.” You unzip his pants slowly while looking into his half-lidded eyes.

Your heart always flutters at this part. Before you find your usual rhythm you always assume that you’re going to forget everything you’ve learned about sucking dick and ruin the atmosphere, the pressure of caring is almost always crushing.

Still, you find yourself eagerly pulling his dick out of his underwear, and shuffling towards him more till your arms are overtop his upper thighs and the top of your head is brushing his lower stomach, which curls inward when you place kisses up his length.

“Woah-” Spencer whispers out as you continue to kiss him lightly. Instead of crudely grabbing your hair or face, his hands find themselves behind his head as he lengthens his body out like a cat sunbathing. 

Running the tip of your tongue across his frenulum, Spencer twists his hips to the side, trying to run away from the pleasure and as a result his cock wipes against your cheek. You grab the base now, keeping it steady so it’s not like you’re working on a moving canvas and take the tip into your mouth.

You place your tongue out, covering your bottom teeth enough so you’re comforted in knowing you’re not going to scrape him, and suck lightly while moving your tongue that's against the bottom of his tip in circles. 

“That’s! That’s enough, okay. Jesus.” Spencer says a bit too loud and jolts your system, which was just falling into a methodological pace.

Pulling back, you lick your lips and pull them into your mouth, tasting him even when he’s not in your mouth anymore and look at him expectantly.

“S-sorry. I didn’t mean that. I was going to cum. You can keep going… only if you want.” He tries to save his little oversensitive outburst from mere seconds ago. 

Wordless, you move back to what you were doing. You want to listen to him a bit though, as a treat, so you take more of him into your mouth instead of focusing all of your energy on the most sensitive part of him. Spencer hums in content and his head falls back against the couch. 

A small trickle of your spit is slipping out and running down his cock, you always feel so embarrassed when it gets messy, you don’t know why, you don’t feel awkward at all when Spencer is going down on you so enthusiastically that you can feel his saliva running down your inner legs. 

Now you’re thinking about how good it feels when he’s going down on you. You whine softly around him and put a hand that was resting on his thigh to rub over your tights and underwear from where you reach under your dress.

Spencer was already close earlier, watching you try to touch yourself as you give him head is simply too much again. 

“Angel, d-done, I’m…okay-”

You pull off of him with a pop and the trail of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his dick stretches and breaks as you talk.

“Can we go to your bedroom please?” it's hoarse and rough but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

“Come ‘ere.” Spencer stretches out his hands to you so he can pull you up from his carpet. Tucking himself back into his underwear for some semblance of modesty, you two walk the short trip to his bedroom as you hold onto his arm.

Like it's your own, you jump and land on your back onto his comforter which all but swallows you whole as you relax against it, excitement thrumming through your veins as if your cells are chanting “my turn, my turn!”

Spencer lithely crawls on top of you, sitting on his knees as his thighs cage yours in. 

“You looked so pretty tonight, I’m almost mourning having to take all this off.”

“Almost, though.”

“Yeah, I know I’ll probably cheer up pretty quickly when I do, huh?”

You laugh and cover your face with your hands, it’s so stupid but he always makes you feel like you're melting all over when he’s being corny. 

Soon enough, Spencer is peeling your tights down with your underwear, and you’re squirming along with him while trying to help and shimmy out of your dress and bra. For a small second, Spencer pulls away to take off his blazer and roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt.

Leaning down on one forearm by your head, he begins kissing you again. Your mouths work together as his other hand trails his fingertips incredibly light against your inner thigh. Biting down softly on his bottom lip, a plea. Spencer uses his middle and ring finger to gather your wetness up to your clit.

The circles he’s rubbing against you leave you moaning and whining against his open mouth as he kisses you through it, maybe throwing in a few “aw’s” or hums in approval as he continues to work his fingers against you.

You both know exactly where this is leading to, and he always has to thoroughly prep you so that you can painlessly take all of him. Those same fingers move against your opening now, Spencer places the middle finger against you and is met with little resistence, so he begins fucking you slowly with it.

Back arching up so your chests brush against each other, Spencer take’s your opportunity of bliss to slip in another finger, scissoring you open as wet sounds emanate between your thighs. 

With two of his fingers in you now, his efforts to kiss your lips have become harder than ever as you become more and more nonverbal and increasingly whiny. 

“Where’d all your teasing go? What happened to calling the shots?” Murmured at your chin as your jaw opens with a whimper. You shake your head, you can’t entertain this, he’s kicking you while you’re down and it’s not right!

Looking down, Spencer see’s your toes curling in and slowly pulls his fingers out of you, a loud suction-y noise following his absence. You blink your eyes open blearily, trying to refocus yourself and reorient yourself into this living plane.

Spencer has stealthily moved down to where your legs are spread open and he’s looking at you exposed with so much adoration in his eyes that even though you’re blinking away tears, you can see it clearly. He’s in love with you.

“Oh, please.” You gasp out, trying to cut to the chase before Spencer asks if he can eat you out. He smiles, and asks anyway to frustrate you good naturedly. 

“Do you want me to return the favor, my valentine?” he swoons.

“Yeah, uhhuh, please.”

“I saw you touching yourself when you were using your mouth on me earlier,” he moves his head between its rightful home in between your thighs, “were you thinking about how good it feels to be in that position?”

“Mm. Yeah.”

“Lucky you then, huh?”

“M-mhm!”

He’s tired of hearing himself talking now, he just wants to be nestled into your pussy and let his tongue work you up in a more productive way than pitiful teasing.

With the palm of his hand flat against your very lower belly, Spencer simultaneously pushes down and up, exposing more of your clit to him and adding pressure to your stomach. He kisses your clit and pokes his tongue out as you lightly circle it as your hips squirm.

Intermittently, Spencer suctions your clit, pulls away completely, and goes back in to repeat the pattern. You’re smeared over his lips and chin and half convinced that he keeps pulling back to see your strings of come stick to his lips.

He changes methods, using his tongue to lick and suck at the source of your slick, nose prodding at your clit. You take it into your own hands to increase the stimulation on your clit as you rock your hips against his nose, Spencer muffles a moan into you.

Recognizing this, Spencer pulls back up to attach his lips back to your needy clit. Through his lips he’s running his tongue against you and the pleasure is unrelenting and intense. The exact stuff that makes you come.

“P-please stay there.” You manage to whimper out, the thought of him changing positions or rhythm is too scary for you to stay silent when you’re this close to finishing. You can feel him smile against you as he stays where you want him to.

Your hands reach for his hair as you thread it between your fingers, the silky stands grounding you to the bed before you prepare to come and fly out to wherever in the space-time-continuum Spencer takes you whenever he goes down on you.

Eventually, the pleasure gets to be too much for you to stifle and savor off much longer, you’re too greedy to ask him to edge you too. You don’t have enough willpower to put this off, you can ask him to eat you out for hours and hours some other day.

With one last suction, stars dance behind your eyelids as Spencer holds your hips down to suck off every last bit of come you have for him, trying his best to lick you clean when you finish all over his face. 

There’s nothing to do but take a slow deep breath in and a long deep breath out as you put the pieces of your brain back together. Once you do, Spencer is up by your face again as he was earlier while fingering you, and he’s palming himself over his underwear.

“Okay?” He asks through pleasure filled furrowed brows.

Nodding, you laugh, you can still feel yourself throbbing for Christ’s sake. Spencer nuzzles his nose against your cheek and kisses your jaw. You let your eyes close again, the feeling of his lips against your skin calming down your racing heart.

It’s a completely silent and peaceful atmosphere of Spencer kissing where he can as you come down until you feel his curious fingers swipe at your clit again. Immediately, your eyes snap open.

“I can’t- I can’t.” You bargain like your life is on the line.

Spencer pulls his fingers away for a moment, looking into your eyes and rubbing it once more as you gasp so hard a strand of hair in Spencer’s face blows to the side, he leaves you alone then.

You cannot fathom how Spencer is almost fully clothed right now. With shaky, malleable limbs, you pull him a bit closer to you and slowly pop each button of his top open. He’s watching your fingers work against his shirt as he continues to rub himself over his underwear gently.

Laying flat beside you know, Spencer lifts his hips up to pull his underwear down finally. Like a moth to a flame, you sit up and take him into your hand again, missing the feel of him hard against you, you note that you want to ride him more than anything. 

“Spencer, darling, can I ride you?”

For a moment he has an unreadable face, but you know that gears are turning in his head at such a rate that he can’t compute them into a response yet.

“Tonight was supposed to be about you.”

You roll your eyes.

“Spencer, darling, can I ride you for a bit?”

“Yes.” 

He responds just as you finish your sentence, eagerly pulling your wrist so you can straddle him again for the second time tonight.

Sitting right below where is cock is hard, you wrap your hands around him and place him up to your stomach, displaying how deep he’s going to be inside of you once you’re fully settled on him, at his dazed face you tease, “deep, huh?”

Spencer shuts his eyes in embarrassment, but his dick twitches and you smile down at it like it’s giving you Spencer’s insider secrets that he can’t say out loud. 

Lifting yourself up, you shakily rub him over your entrance a few times before sitting down slowly on his head. You both whine as you start, Spencer's hand on your hip rubbing circles while his eyes are still closed.

You want him to watch so badly. You sink down further, almost all the way with a small squeal that has Spencer’s eyes opening and his stomach tightening, checking to see if you’re in any pain. 

“M’ okay. Fucking big, can’t get used to it.” You trail off.

A light pink blush appears on his cheeks like your compliment had come from a sweeter, more innocent place in your heart. You place your palms on his chest as you take a deep breath in and sink down all the way. 

“Fuck- perfect. You okay?” Spencer speaks through his teeth at your whining as you accommodate him.

Again you laugh to take the fiery attention completely off of you, “So much dick.”

“Stopp.” Spencer whines. He feels so much like a dude when you compliment him like this, his ego doesn’t even know what to do with these extremely filthy compliments. He assumes you feel the same way when he’s fingering you and won’t shut up about how you feel and sound. 

Starting with small circles, it feels like Spencer is churning you as deliciously as humanly possible. The more small movements you give the deeper the need to actually ride him is, you stop holding back and start picking up your hips against his as your nails dig indents into his chest. 

Spencer’s singing out soft uh’s with each pass of your hips and you’re (unfortunately) not able to match his sweet pleads as you’re holding back full and embodied moans that slip out when you angle him perfectly inside you. 

You want to swindle it so that Spencer forgets about your prior compromise and lets you ride him till he’s coming inside of you, but when your hips stutter briefly with exhaustion, he notices immediately.

“Flip over.”

Pretending to be mad, you roll your eyes and lay flat on your back, the stretch of removing yourself from him making you suck in air between your teeth.

“Felt so good, did so good for me, please let me do that for you.” Spencer whispers into your ear as he positions you onto your side.

One of his arms from behind you is holding up your thigh closest to him, inadvertently spreading you open for him to be inside you once again. With one of his hands on your thigh and the other propping himself up for a good angle, you take matters into your own hands, lining him up with yourself again.

As easy as ever, Spencer pushes his hips slowly as he enters you from the side and your head falls to the pillow, allowing Spencer access to your ear and side of your neck.

When he finds his rhythm, he gets more confident, gaining his voice to mutter praises and filth into your ear as he fucks you.

“What’d I say? Told you I was gonna fuck you, jus’ had to be patient. Jesus, always so patient for me, with me. I’m sorry…”

You can tell he’s not exactly referring to his act of fucking you right now, moreso the push and pull he’s put you through for months. But it feels good to hear, Spencer's emotions are spilling out since he’s put out everything he’s felt for you on the table.

“Mmf. Would wa-wait forever-” You’re trying to be comforting, you’re getting your brains fucked out. The angle on your side has Spencer’s cock dragging along the front of your vagina, every single toe-curling spot is being rubbed relentlessly.

“Perfect. Perfect.”

The open mouthed kisses Spencer’s leaving on your cheek are wet and sloppy, but wholeheartedly welcome. With his face so close to yours his stubble is rubbing against you, making you whine.

Picking up on the way Spencer’s breathing becomes more shallow, you assume he’s pretty close. All night he’s been starving himself of this and you almost get excited for him, you’re too in deep.

Realizing he’s close after you have realized it, Spencer moves his hand from your inner thigh and starts rubbing your tender clit with his fingers again. Moaning loudly through a closed mouth, you let him this time.

You have to trust him to put you back together to your normal self after this though, you’re expecting a hard second orgasm and after how much the first one took you out, you have to brace yourself as you feel it brewing in the bottom of your belly.

Noticing how you’ve buried your face a bit more into the pillow and are trying to work on steadying your breathing, Spencer picks up quickly how you’re feeling. 

“I got you, you’re okay, you’re okay. I know…” He kisses along your cheek and with a squeak that makes Spencer’s own orgasm arrive, you throb around him and twitch in his arms as you come. 

He’s pressing his body into you as though he’s a weighted blanket, soothing the aftershocks that are thrumming through your entire body with his own. Spencer places his hand against your heart to gauge how you’re doing and begins peppering your skin with kisses.

“Do you feel good?” Spencer’s begun massaging your side and back softly, preventing any sore muscles from developing there before tomorrow hits you.

You come to yourself, before you had panicked, not sure how to trust Spencer completely with the vulnerability you were about to experience, but you’re fine. You’re happy. Coming harder than you have before is not scary because that’s exactly what Spencer wanted from you.

“Yes. I could cry.”

“Baby…”

Slowly you flip over to face him, a little teary but nothing streaming down your face as you plant a kiss on his lips. And then again.

There’s still a small lipstick stain on his jaw from when you were sitting above him on the couch earlier. You trace over it with your finger.

“You’re going to be finding hidden lipstick marks all over your body for weeks…” you smile and close your eyes.

“I hope,” he replies softly and earnestly, “I really like them. I really like you.”

✵

You’re both clean now. Showered and fresh as a daisy, you smell like all the products in Spencer’s shower and you’re standing behind him, arms wrapped around his waist as he dries off his hair in front of the mirror.

You can see his skin is tinged pink from the hot water, creating a sweet blush over his back and shoulders where you press your cheek against. With your skin soft and warm now, you think about the small snow flurries falling outside, how they mean nothing to the warmth coming off you and from inside you.

Spencer moves away from the mirror, allowing you your turn to get fully ready for bed. Taking out the “spare” toothbrush he has that’s essentially yours, you begin brushing your teeth. Feeling eyes looking at you from your side you turn to where Spencer is leaning against the wall and watching you.

Suddenly, you remember what he said earlier in the car, how he realized he loved you. You slow your brushing down and meet his gaze, sure that if someone else were in here to describe your looks it would be a cheesy “eyes shaped like hearts” moment. 

Your heart fills, the toothbrush clatters in his sink as you drop it and run over into his arms, placing kisses all over his lips and face, leaving small streaks of toothpaste behind. 

Through similar frantic kisses Spencer speaks in giggles,

“I still want to see this every night. I need to.”

[appleblueberry-pie]

Explaining your First Love to the Yandere's

A/N: "The Yandere's", meaning as many yandere's i think I can characterize as yandere's as perfectly as possible without burning myself out. Also, are the pictures too much?????? Also, I couldn't find a good pic for Sugu without picking the one where he's literally going insane LMAOOO. Love how my semi-debut for my yandere characterization for him is shown w a not so pleasant picture of him(they're all perfect). Anyways, this is probably gonna be my most chaotic, yet organized, post about jjk ever. I have a solid plan and will go through with it. It's friday and this is me "letting loose" before the weekend. Also, the first love story will be pulled from my own experience. With multiple twists to it to make it sound as interesting as possible.

SCENARIO:

"Mmmm. I remember my first love." You hum in a pleasant tone as you start to reminisce events of who you first gave your heart to. "I loved him so much, it was insane. Because....we grew up with each other. We used to be like this." You twist your fingers together, smiling at him as you explain. "He was an embodiment of me, as I was of him. I don't remember a time we weren't friends. I think it helps to mention that our mom's were friends and they were neighbors. So....we've always known each other. He's a year older than me."

You two were out in the park on the grass. He suggested a little picnic together, hoping to bring you two closer so he could possibly make more moves to be more than a friend. But you were so oblivious to it, even going as far as talking of your first love as if you still missed this stupid asshole.

"I still miss him." You go silent for a few seconds and stare down at the checkered blanket, smiling. He gapes a little and resists the urge to scoff. "We both loved playing video games, we watched the same tv shows, went to the same elementary school....a lot of things happened between us. He didn't like me back, though. I confessed to him when I was 9 and he said no." You laugh. "But even then, I still loved him. I still feel it, too. For some reason, my love for others doesn't really go away. Just sits at the bottom of my heart to make more room for others."

You sigh and continue talking about the guy. "He just grew more and more....attractive as I grew up. I am pretty sure he's why I have my type that I have in men currently. He's very tall....a deep voice." You sigh, closing your eyes to remember. "Relaxed, closed off.....I heard him on the phone when our moms were talking a month ago. He sounds....so different. I don't even know what I'd do with myself if I saw him again." In real time, he watched you unravel slowly to show how.....inf*tuated you were with this guy. You were so focused on naming his qualities. As if you could picture him perfectly in your mind.

"I'm so glad we don't talk to each other anymore. I ruined our relationship. Said a few inappropriate things I shouldn't have said at the wrong time. I haven't spoken to him in....6 years. And I'd rather it stay that way, honestly. Because he's a rather boring person outside of his physical attributes. But I have attachment issues." You pick up one of the snacks laid out between the two of you. "Yeah. I'm done talking about him. I would rather not think of him anymore."

YANDERE REACTIONS:

Sukuna:

Sukuna was baffled. Anger, frustration, fear, and even jealousy kept his tongue from moving. He thought this moment wouldn't ever happen in his life. He thought this wasn't a possibility. Your extreme disloyalty to him was what made him clench his hands in anger. But if he rationally thought about this, you don't know. You don't know how much he loves you. How much the Ryomen Sukuna loves you. You were supposed to be his in all lifetimes. He felt like he absolutely knew you were pure. You smelled pure and your energy felt pure when he first met you. So why were you fixing your mouth to say such disgusting and unfaithful words to him as if he wasn't right there?

He wanted to ask you if you've been trying to give yourself to him like a whore, but he knew that was just him overreacting. He wouldn't ever say such things to you, anyways. He wanted to change for you and was trying, starting with these stupid little date settings he knew you loved. A fucking park. And here he was being stabbed in the chest multiple times without your knowledge of it. It was all your doing.

He might be human in this lifetime. He might be nothing but a mere human for you to toy with freely, and he would let you do it to him. But he would never allow a puny roach get in the way of getting what he deserves. He deserves you and he will have you, one way or another. And if that means cutting a small piece of your heart out just to keep the rest, then so be it. He can't have any piece of you in him. Just thinking about him makes another vessel pop in his body somewhere. He will kill this thing.

Kento:

Maybe he was overbearing. He really just couldn't help but feel insecure. There should be no real reason for you to bring up a man from the past. Someone that should clearly be out of your mind. Was he boring? What did that fool have that he didn't? And why did you mention it while you two were on this date??(It wasn't a date, but it felt like it to him) Maybe he was too plain. Men like him were just smokers and loners, of course you'd bring up someone else that can satiate your desire for real love. It's all because he couldn't. Not in the way you want to be loved.

But he knew, he knew that he was enough. He knew he was your type as well, so, what did you mean by he was the type you have in men?? What does that mean for him? Will you use him and throw him away? He doesn't want to be used and tossed out like trash. He wanted to be yours forever. He wanted to be your man. Your man. He wanted to be your lover, your obsesser and the one you obsess over, not that imbecile. He wanted to be skin to skin, he wanted to be under your skin, he wanted to make his mark on you and for you to do the same to him. He deserves your love. But here you are expressing it for another man you haven't even spoken to in over 6 years. He deserves that type of commitment, there's nothing he's done to deserve it this late.

"I love you." The words slip out like oil on water. And it makes his heart oh, so much lighter.

Suguru:

"Heavens. I'm glad you aren't talking with him now." Suguru chuckles and shakes his head, peeling off more strawberry leaves for you. "This is why." He points with the strawberry at the people walking past and then gives you the strawberry. "This is why I don't want you talking with them. They do this to hold you in their clutches, I've seen it." Suguru sighs as he recalls your story in his mind. Jesus, was it trying to hypnotize you? If so, it was working. No worries, it won't be around to mess with your mind much longer.

"They actively lie, they laze around, let their emotions control them, and then try to manipulate you to stay with them to be their stepping stool." He brushes your hair back neatly, and you scrunch your eyebrows at his words. "But I know you're better than him. Better than all of them." He calls out your name and stares into your eyes with a look that makes you flustered. What is his problem?

"You are the light. You are one of the most strongest and intelligent sorcerers I have seen of this time. You hold up your potential and continue to blow my mind with how beautiful your soul is. I am constantly drawn to you and your energy, I never get enough of it. I don't ever want to hinder you and I don't want anyone else to hinder your energy. That's why I will kill that filthy animal that tried to touch you." It's scary, the way he maintains eye contact with you and spits the nastiest insult about the man you once loved with your whole heart.

"I can't wait to get to know you better. You've been teaching me so much. Maybe you can tell me about your favorite nature spots and we can relax there whenever you're free. And sometime later, I could also take you to meet my family. You'll love my two daughters." He laughs lightly, knowing Nanako and Mimiko would adore finally having a real mother worth of raising them. Together, you and him would be unstoppable.

Choso:

Choso was finished with peeling the mandarin for you. You kind of were confused about how he went about doing this, though. Because all over his lap were the smallest bits of mandarin peels you've ever seen. But the mandarin looked perfect. He obviously took his time. He handed it to you softly, smiling. You accept it happily and begin peeling.

He was surprised he didn't rip the thing apart then and there. Maybe be should peel things more often. The way you so freely spoke about your love for another man when your soulmate was sitting right next to you, peeling fruit open for you was preposterous. He needed a hug. A lemonade, had to kill someone, something. But he stopped killing people for you(secretly), so he has to resort to acting like he's peeling off that devil's skin. Starting from where the shiny skin first shows. The first piece is always the hardest to pick off and it's hard to choose where to begin. But soon enough, the color underneath began to show. He slowly picked off every. Little. Piece. He heard a yelp of pain and cries of "sorry's" in his head for every piece.

Every single little piece made the air smell more and more sweet and tangy. The more you spoke, the faster he picked. The stronger the smell was. So citrus-y and delicious. It made him smile. He loved peeling this mandarin. Then picking off white strips connected to the mandarin itself, so that it was smoother and you had no access peel. Like veins, they came off one by one. He simply stared at it when he was done. Smooth, perfect. Scattered remains laying everywhere on his lap.

He's never felt this way before. What were you doing to him? What is this twisting feeling in his gut that makes him want to puke? Why can't he breathe? Why does he want to kill the kids and mothers at the playground not too far away? He needs you to calm him down.

He hates this park.

"Here you go, angel." He hands it to you, smiling. You looked a little confused at first, but then took it from him, opening it to take a slice. "Oh, this looks real nice, Cho. ......Why are you smiling like that?" He shrugs, picking up one of the strawberries you brought from your place. "Like what...?"

Toji:

Toji was silent. The awkward silence he was creating between the two of you made you nervous. He was sitting close to you, leaning over to you, his arm supporting his weight behind your back with your shoulder touching his chest. He was just staring down at the bowl of strawberries. ".....Toji?" Your soft voice made him sigh.

No, he couldn't do it. Killing you won't kill the pain and anger in his chest. This was probably the angriest he's ever been. He wanted to shout at you to apologize for how you were making him feel. But what he really wanted was to feel your lips on his and for you to shut the fuck up. For some reason, every time you open your mouth, it always ends with him degrading further and further off the side of sanity and just going completely ballistic.

You saw his hand on his hip. The hip that wasn't actually his hip, but was his gun he was resting his hand on. He would feel so much better if those shrieking rats would shut up. Fucking rodents running around you two freely like he wasn't about to ruin everyone's day.

He wouldn't say he was often traumatized, but he could've went his whole life without hearing that story. Now he has to find a random man and kill him for stealing your heart. I mean, the least the bastard could've done was reciprocate his feelings and not leave you feeling helpless. "I could treat you better than that dick." You flinch at his words before smiling, averting your gaze as well. "Oh....." He leans in closer to your face. "Where does he live, huh? Is it the prick with the glasses?" "No?" "The one you work with?" "I-I told you I haven't-" "Eh, whatever. I'll find him and kill him." He smiles at your bashfulness and grabs a few strawberries from the patch.

Sometimes he forgets you don't care much for how he says things. If the right message gets across, you usually don't mind how he says it. But he just blatantly threatened to kill him. You grab the leafless strawberries from his hands and begin eating. Nah. You were his, for sure. He sighs and lays down on the blanket, staring up at the blue sky.

Satoru:

Satoru nodded along with your words, his hands trembling. When you smiled, he did. When you sighed, he would, too. And when you finished your story, he had to swallow the thick bile in his throat. You were just....recalling old memories, that's all. Nothing else. He tried to focus on the grass blades he felt through the blanket. He tried to focus on the sounds of the kids running around squealing.

He watched you eat some of the cold grapes he brought you. They were big, and you praised him lightly for finding such a great batch. He nods quietly and stares down at his lap. Everything was fine. You were fine, and so was he. "Satoru...?" Honey dripping naturally in your voice makes his head turn automatically. The worry etched on your face made the strings holding his mind together break one by one. "Are you alright..? You're sweating."

Nothing was fine. He can't believe you just said that to him. Why would you..? Why did...? Why?.....wait, why?? Why??? Why why why why why why WHY would you do that? Why would you say that to him? He sacrificed so much for you. He killed all of the assassins that went after you when the higher ups found out about you and him getting closer. He paid off your parent's debt secretly. He paid your rent. He woke up early in the mornings to talk to you because he knows you like to wake up to see the sunset. He memorized all of your schedules when you have special weeks, special breaks, he memorized all days that you memorized, he knows what mattress you like to sleep on, he knows how you like certain foods to be seasoned, he knows your favorite weather and season, he didn't fucking learn all of this about you for nothing!! WHY don't you ever appreciate everything he's ever done for you? Why don't you notice him? Why don't you love him? He stalks you every day to understand the type of man you would want to live under your roof and be under your covers and that wasn't enough.

He's been so alone all of his fucking life. No one understood him like you do. He couldn't help but open his ribcage, breaking them off of his body to one by one to let you touch his hot beating heart with your cold fingers. He wants you inside of his heart forever and never let you go, can't you understand that? He hasn't slept in three days, predetermining what he was going to say to you during this picnic, and you tell him that?? Just fucking kill him. Kill him, kick his face, spit on him, ruin him like you're doing now. He clearly doesn't matter.

"Satoru??"

He's supposed to be the one you compare playing video games with, he is supposed to be the one you watch the same tv shows with, he was supposed to go to the same school as you!! His skin is on fire, he can't breathe, his mind hurts, the grass blades are irritating his skin and the children are making his migraine worse. Are you saying something? He can't hear you. His ears are ringing.

He wants to be him. He wants to rip open the skin and spine of the man who lived in your soul since the dawn of time and crawl into his body to experience what he experienced. He wants to do all of those things with you as kids and live with you, grow with you, let him be your infatuation. He wants to rewind time. He wants to die. He wants both of you to die and be reborn to be given a second chance he can never ever have.

"Satoru!"

Your face is twisted into heavy concern and slight fear. Satoru sat in front of you, staring at you. He hasn't moved in three entire minutes. His face was covered in bucket loads of sweat, his lips twisted into a tight smile that threatened to break into a million pieces. The corners of his lips wobbled as if he was going to cry, but his eyes were wide open and dry. His legs, arms, and back stiff as he sits in such an uncomfortable position, it had to hurt. You were scared for him.

Can he hear you? You slowly raise on of your hands to touch his cheek and he flinches under your touch, finally blinking. "Yes?" You purse your lips and bring out a cold water bottle from your basket. "Here, maybe you should drink some water." He takes the water bottle you dropped into his hand. "Thank you." He whispers and sighs, twisting open the cap. You watch him guzzle the whole thing in 5 seconds. "......maybe we should go indoors." He nods, closing the now empty water bottle. "Yeah. The sun is hurting my eyes."

No part 2's. Because I don't like continuing old plot and I love seeing people go crazy for me not continuing good content.

[moonsgemini]

cherry wine - firefighter!rafe pt. 2

* ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ₊˚ ⋅

summary: Rafe’s job gets in the way of your first date, but you’re not mad about it.

warnings: teacher!reader x firefighter!rafe, fluff, mutual pining, flirting, sexy rafe, SMUT, fingering, fem rec oral, fem!reader, inaccurate descriptions of firefighter duties, alcohol, cursing

an: I have no idea how a fire fighters schedule works so I made it up bc it’s fiction. oh & do we like the long fics?? oh & it’s my birthday yay to 24

part one ☆ part three

* ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ₊˚ ⋅

The night at the bar Rafe made sure you were sober to drive. He had you drink lots of water and even ordered you a plate of fries. His mind wandering off when you would lick the salt off your fingers. He was gone for you from the start and he didn’t mind one bit.

After walking you to your car he asked for your number and promised to see you the next day. Leaving you with a kiss on the cheek and permanent butterflies. The whole drive home you belted out the lyrics to your favorite pop music, feeling like a high school girl with a crush.

Rafe drove him in silence with a grin on his face. When he got home and texted you that he had a great time and couldn’t wait to see you again that grin never vanished. It only widened when you replied reciprocating the same feelings.

The next day came and a couple hours before picking you up Rafe got called into the station. Instead of texting he called you wanting to make sure you knew he wasn’t flaking. You believed him of course. Yet you couldn’t help the natural feeling of disappointment that flowed through your bones.

That feeling was soothed when he texted you late that night that he had finally gotten back to the station. Along with that he sent a picture of the station dog Max on his lap. You couldn’t help the way your mouth watered at the sight of his veiny big hand that was resting in the golden retrievers fur. In return you sent back a picture of your steaming mug of tea and a horror movie playing on the tv in the back.

It sparked a conversation about movies which led to you and Rafe talking non stop the following week. Besides the times you were teaching and he was out training or helping people.

Rafe promised you a proper date that upcoming Friday. Making sure to let you know that he would do anything to make it work out this time. You reassured him it was okay if something came up again. That made his heart burst, it wasn’t often that someone was willing to work with his hectic schedule.

-

The outfit you had planned for the previous weekend still sat on your vanity chair waiting to be worn. And hopefully waiting to be taken off. You had finished your hair and makeup all done to perfection. As it neared closer to the time he was picking you up your anxiety spiked. He hadn’t called to reschedule so it was really happening.

Rafe had gotten worked up all week with the pictures you’d occasionally send of what you were doing. The one that really got him was when you had gotten out of the shower and sent him a picture of you in a fuzzy robe with wet hair and your skin glistening. Most likely due to a skincare routine you had mentioned to him.

Rafe thought you looked like a goddess, he wished he could have gotten down on his knees and untied that robe with his teeth before worshiping you. His kind had been in the gutter all week.

He was making sure this date was going to go perfect. He bought a bouquet of flowers from a street vendor and worn his best date outfit. As he rang the doorbell to your small cottage he started to get a bit nervous. He hadn’t put this much effort into a date since high school. Even then how much effort could a teenage boy put in. He didn’t actually remember the last time he went on a date.

Rafe’s runaway thoughts were interrupted as you opened the door. Standing in front of him in a short black skirt and black top. A jacket hanging over your arm and your glossy lips turning up into a smile. The boots you were accentuated your legs making them look even longer. Rafe wanted to lick every inch of you. Especially after the smell of your perfume hit him, he wanted to kiss your neck.

“Hi,” You said with a teasing tone.

He didn’t realize he hadn’t said anything, “You look beautiful.” He made it a point to look her up and down.

She laughed as heat creeped up her neck, “Thank you Rafe.”

He loved how you said his name, “These are for you.” He handed you the flowers.

“Come in while I put them in water,” You nodded towards the inside of the house, “They’re beautiful Rafe. You really do know how to treat me good.”

He closed the door behind him as you began filling a vase with water, “Oh this is nothing.”

“If there’s more than this I might start to like you a little too much,” You joked hoping the weight of those words don’t send him running. You didn’t mean to say something so forward so soon. Literally on the first date, but you decided to stick by your words. You didn’t want to hide that you liked him.

“Perfect, because I already like you a little too much.”

You froze with the kitchen towel in your hands as you dries them. As you looked at him his smile was sincere, no hint of teasing or lying. You finished drying your hands as you laughed softly. The crush you had on Rafe was growing by the minute.

“Ready?” You asked.

He nodded opening the front door for you. He even opened the passenger door of his truck for you. Of course you knew these were bare minimum things but you couldn’t help how giddy it made you feel. Especially when it was him doing it for you.

-

Everything couldn’t have been going more perfect. Rafe was almost grateful he had to postpone the date because in the week the two of you talked he learned a lot. With the knowledge of you he had he planned the perfect date.

He took you to a record shop that you hadn’t been to before. You had told him about your extensive collection you had started building in high school. He even remembered a few of the bands you liked when he came across them. Of course he insisted on buying you a couple which you repeatedly told him not to. Obviously he didn’t listen and bought you them.

Next door was the Italian restaurant Rafe had been raving about all week. Promising you it’d be the best pasta of your life.

But as you looked over the menu, a ghost of a grin hasn’t left your mouth all evening, his phone started ringing. Rafe took his phone out of his pocket beginning to apologize for not silencing it. He was going to ignore the call but the name across the screen had his brows furrowing in worry.

“Everything okay?”

He looked up briefly, “Uh yeah it’s my captain. I’m so sorry I need to answer this.” You nodded understanding as he gave you a regretful smile as he slid out the booth to take the call. You continued to look over the cocktail menu.

Rafe sighed as he sat down across from you again, “Everything okay?” You asked

He shook his head, “I hate to do this but I got called in. I wasn’t supposed to work today but there’s a hug pile up downtown where there’s a big concert and they need all the help they can get.”

You tried not to show the disappointment you felt because it was his job after all. Rafe could still see how your eyes lost a bit of their shine and your smile wasn’t as bright anymore. He really hated this. In his career so far he had never been called in so much. But now when he meets the hottest woman he’s ever seen work is taking over his life. He was not about to have you slip through his fingers.

“Oh yeah I understand. You can just drop m-“ You began saying before he interrupted.

“Come with me.”

“Huh?”

He shook his head with a laugh, “Not to the wreck to the station. Wait for me there.”

He didn’t even wait for you to reply because for one he needed to leave now or Captain Matthews would chew his head off. And two if you decided you didn’t want to and wanted nothing to do with him anymore he’s take you home, but the sound of your laugh as he pulled you through the restaurant was enough of an answer. Your hands stayed locked together until you got back into his truck.

The station wasn’t too far from where you already were so the drive was short. Rafe rushed out to open your door and grab your hand once again. As you trailed behind him you saw a few of the guys from career day and some new faces as they all stood by an engine in the garage. A couple were checking equipment and a few others were already getting on the truck.

“Sorry to interrupt your date but we need your help here Cameron,” An older guy said as the two of you approached. You assumed this was his captain.

You smiled, “Duty calls right?”

He laughed, “It sure does.”

“I’ll be right out,” Rafe said leading you into the station. He walked you into a room that was like a big living room with couches and a tv. Max was laying on the couch and when he saw Rafe he immediately got up and walked over to the pair.

“This is Max. Say hi Maxie bug,” He pet the dogs head who then sniffed your leg. You bent down petting his fluffy head.

“Hi Maxie.”

“Make yourself at home and feel free to anything in the kitchen. I’ll be back hopefully in a couple hours. If you get bored and uber home I won’t be offended I promise,” Rafe said placing a hand on your shoulder.

You nodded, “Got it. Be safe and good luck.”

He leaned in with a grin and kissed your cheek gingerly. Even that small touch had your head spinning. You and Max watched as he jogged back outside and only a couple minutes later you heard the truck leave.

-

It had been almost two hours now and Rafe was still out. You had watched a fe episodes of your favorite sitcom and played with Max a bit. You even explored the station finding the kitchen and a few of the rooms used for sleeping where you stole a blanket from to lay over yourself on the couch. The only issue you were having was that you were starving.

Since you two had to leave dinner you hadn’t eaten since lunch and that meesley turkey sandwich was not cutting it.

That’s when you wandered into the kitchen and that habit of wanting to take care of people kicked in. You looked through to see what the guys had almost expecting to find the bare minimum. You were so wrong. The fridge and pantry were filled with groceries. You thought these guys must really eat a lot.

You started brain storming and decided on making lasagna and garlic bread. You figured they’d all be hungry when they got back and you were also starving. As the garlic bread finished in the oven and the lasagna cooled down you heard the rumbling of the fire truck. Perfect timing. You hoped you didn’t overstep but he did say make yourself at home. You even baked some chocolate chip cookie dough they had in the fridge. Even also tossing a salad to have on the side.

As Rafe opened the door that led to the station the smell of garlic bread and fresh baked cookies hit him. He thought he must be hallucinating until he walked into the kitchen and saw you getting plates out from the cupboard. A few of the guys walked in behind Rafe.

“Hey we’re back,” Rafe said stepping towards you, “Did you make dinner?”

You nodded a bit of embarrassment creeping up your spine, “Yeah hope you guys don’t mind. I was hungry and I figured you were too so I made food for you all.”

Josh stepped forward looking at the pan of lasagna, “Rafe keep her please, this looks amazing.”

“Seriously thank you this looks so good,” Captiain Matthews said as he stepped in.

“No problem please help yourselves,” You motioned towards the counter of food.

Rafe couldn’t look away from you. The way you stood so comfortably in the station kitchen talking to his coworkers. He walked closer towards you as the guys served themselves.

“You are just too sweet huh?” He teased.

“Well we missed our italian dinner so I made it myself,” You shrugged with a grin.

“That just means next time I’m cooking for you,” He said. The thought of there being a next time brough butterflies to your stomach.

“I’ll hold you to it,” You nodded.

Rafe grabbed a plate and began to serve you food. Handing over the plate before serving himself. All the guys thanked you as Rafe led you to the living room area. He also grabbed a bottle from one of the tall cabinets along with two glasses.

“Now I know this isn’t what I promised you but next time will be better,” He promised as he opened the bottle of wine.

“There’s no complaints from me about this date,” You shrugged, “Since when are you allowed to have alcohol in here?”

He smirked, “Well miss I’m technically off the clock again and this is from the christmas party we had a few months ago. Cherry wine?”

Your eyes lit up, “It’s like you know me already, I love cherry wine.”

-

After your stomachs were full of good food and a bit of wine that made your head feel a bit floaty you both settled on the couch. This was the best date you’d ever been on. Rafe was sweet and flirty never hiding his desire for you. Not even in a sexual way but in a way where he constantly asked questions about everything wanting to know more about you. He talked about his life as well which only made you like him more. Hearing about his troubled privileged childhood that led him to where he is now. It was admirable to hear him talk about it with no shame since it made him who he is.

As it got later Rafe drove you home. You were disappointed the night was ending but it was nearing one in the morning and you still had lesson plans to create.

He walked you up to your door with an arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“I had a really great time with you tonight. I’m sorry again for the interruption.”

You shook your head, “Don’t worry about it Rafe. I still had a great time.”

“The guys are going to want you around all the time now,” He laughed.

“Oops,” You shrugged with a smirk.

He stepped closer, “Be careful now I might get jealous.”

“Maybe I’ll keep going then,” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, “I know it’s late but uh do you want to come in?”

Rafe didn’t hesitate, “Yeah sure.”

You unlocked your door leading him in, “I can make you a cup of tea if you’d like or something else.” You asked as you set your things down on the entryway table.

“hmmm something else?” He asks as he steps closer to you.

You look through your cupboards, “I have tea, coffee, some random-“ your words caught in your throat as you turned around to look at him only to find Rafe behind you.

“That all sounds good but I think I want something sweet,” He said as he inched closer. Your hands rested behind you against the counter. Eyes wide with anticipation and curiosity as to what his next move would be.

“Like sweat tea?” You asked knowing exactly what he means but not wanting to jump to conclusions.

His smirk turned into a lopsided grin. He rubbed his hand over his mustache and shook his head stepping closer, “No that cherry wine was pretty sweet right?”

You nodded in agreement not taking your eyes off him.

“I think I want a bit more of that,” He was now practically caging you in against the counter. You felt like you were suffocating in him in the best way possible.

“Oh I don-“ He interrupted you by leaning forward and brushing his nose against yours. It shut you up immediately and then he broke the rest of the distance and pressed his lips to yours. You reciprocated moved your hands from the counter to pull at the blonde hair at the back of his head. His hands went to your hips pulling you closer to him then sliding up to your waist.

His thumbs going under your shirt the skin on skin contact made you shiver in the best way. Your mouths moved in sync as the kiss deepened.

Rafe could taste the sweetness but he wasn’t sure if it was the cherry wine or just you. He knew he was addicted to you now. He loved the way your hands felt in his hair and on his biceps and shoulders. He slotted his leg in between yours making you feel even closer to him. The small noises you were making made him sigh into the kiss.

He pulled away before kissing you a few more times and murmuring, “So sweet.”

You whined and tugged at his shirt to pull him back in. He smirked and gave you what you wanted. He’d give you anything you wanted.

This time you pulled away feeling a bit bold and the feeling of his thigh pressing against the place where you needed him the most helped you say, “You wanna see my room?”

He laughed softly kissing your nose, “You inviting me to your room?”

You scoffed a laugh, “Nooo I’m asking if you want to see my room. There’s a difference.”

“I’d love to see your room.” He said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes playfully and shoved him. Grabbing his hand and leading him down the hallway to your room. You turned on the lamp on your nightstand which illuminated the room with a soft glow. Rafe had decidedly that he loved seeing you in that light. You looked like a real like angel.

“So this is it,” You said motioning to your surroundings.

He threw his head back with a hearty laugh, “Oh I really like you sweetheart. Come here,” He motioned with his fingers for you to come closer. A motion that had your mind in the gutter.

“Why do you say that?” You question as you walk forward to where he stood at the end of your bed.

“Because you’re all cute and sweet like you didn’t almost make me come just by making out.”

“Rafe!” You said with a surprised laugh.

He shrugged, “What? It’s the truth.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck still feeling bold. There was something about how unabashedly he admitted his feelings towards you that had you feeling confident. It felt good to be wanted. It felt good to be wanted by Rafe.

“You’re ridiculous,” You said as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His eyes moving down to your still swollen lips.

“Mhmm,” He hummed and nodded. He leaned in just like he did earlier in the kitchen. Kissing the air out of your lungs. His hands moved all over you gripping and holding anything he could.

His hand slipped down your back and over your butt, giving a squeeze as he past it, down to the end of your skirt, His fingers trailed up the back of your thigh and up your skirt. Hands gripping your ass under your skirt. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips which allowed him more access into your mouth.

There was a small part of your brain that hadn’t quite turned off yet. Rafe’s lips began to trail down to your neck leaving open mouthed kisses that had you arching into him. The feeling of his mustache against your smooth skin had you shivering.That’s when that part of your brain decided to speak up.

“Oh Rafe,” You said breathily eyes fluttering shut, “are you sure, it’s late and don’t you have work?” Rafe groaned as he kissed the spot behind your ear. He couldn’t help but get more turned on at the sound of her caring about him, but work and sleep were far from his mind. Right now he just wanted to bury his head between your thighs and have you moaning and withering underneath him.

“Baby I could care less about that right now,” He walked you back until you were sat on the bed. The bed wasn’t very tall so when he stood in between your legs you had to look up at him. The way he towered over you had your flimsy underwear feeling soaked. You had never been so turned on by a man.

Rafe reached forward to cup your jaw. Thumb stroking your cheek gently. Now that part of your brain was completely silent. All you could think about was him.

“You’re so beautiful,” He mumbled almost to himself.

A soft smile appeared on your face and he practically groaned again. Your doe eyes looking up at him with an innocent smile had his cock hardening even more if that’s possible. He bit his lip and watched as your eyes moved to his mouth. He knew you wanted him as bad as he wanted you and that made this all the more exciting.

He slowly trailed his thumb to his mouth, pulling at her bottom lip teasingly. Almost like a habit your mouth opened slightly. He took this as a sign to gently push it into your mouth. You wrapped your lips around it sucking and licking.

“Fuck,” He muttered as he felt your warm tongue. Where had you been all his life. He was never going to let you go. He pulled it out and leaned down kissing you again.

“You’re so hot,” He mumbled as he got on his knees in front of you. He removed your boots that you were still wearing and kissed up both legs. The intimacy of it all had your chest rising rapidly. The anticipation of just how good you know this man is going to treat you was enough to make your toes curl.

“I’ve been thinking about these thighs since I first picked you up,” He said as he kissed your inner thighs. He had placed your legs over his shoulders, hands gripping the outside of them. You sighed as your body ignited in pleasure.

You let out a small yelp as he pulled your center closer to his face causing you to fall back, “And fuuuck I’ve been thinking about pushing this little skirt up all night.” He hummed in appreciation as he pushed the black material up. Your feet now resting on the end of the bed. Your barely clothed pussy on display. Leaning back on your elbows you watched with hazy eyes as Rafe admired you.

He looked up at you through hooded eyes and a smirk, “Can I please taste you?” He knew you wouldn’t say no but he wanted to be a gentleman anyways.

“Please,” You whispered slightly bucking your hips up.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lace covered clit. The black lacy panties you had on barely doing anything to cover your slick cunt. He took a mental picture for the next time he was in the shower.

You moaned softly as he continued to kiss over panties, eventually pulling them to the side. He murmured curse words as he lifted his thumb to run through your folds. Gently slipping the tip of it inside you to gather your wetness. He trailed it up to your clot beginning to rub soft circles. The motion had your head falling back with a sigh.

Rafe turned his head and peppered kisses on your inner thigh. He pressed down a little harder as he watched you get wetter. After a few strokes he tentatively dipped his head down and licked your clit.

That was enough for him to know this is what he wanted to taste forever. He roughly pulled off the lacey matterial throwing it somewhere in the room.

He groaned as he fully dived in. Licking, sucking, and kissing just where you needed him to. He listened to your moans and soft whines to see what you liked the most. He was so painfully hard but he didn’t even care. Rafe just wanted you to come.

“Oh god Rafe,” You moaned as his tongue dipped into you. Your hands gripped his hair tugging when something felt extra good.

He moaned and the sound sent even more pleasure through you, “You taste so fucking good.”

“Rafe I’m close,” You panted, “you’re so good don’t stop please.”

He shook his head with his mouth still on you, “Never baby, you’re gonna have to pry me away from this pussy.”

The dirty words sending you even closer to the edge. You had never been talked to like this and you loved it. You liked how he ravaged you and actually paid attention to what you liked.

You felt his finger nudge your entrance before he slipped it in. Your walls tightening around his thick finger. You arched you back as he reached one hand up to press flat against your stomach to lay you down more. Then he added a second finger and you couldn’t help the cry that escaped your lips. It felt so good the way he moved them in and out. Fingers curled up hitting that spot you so desperately needed.

The lewd sounds of his fingers fucking you and his mouth on your clit filled the room. Along with your loud moans and his occasional groans. The roughness of his mustache felt so good on the sensitive bud.

“Rafey I’m-I’m gonna,”

“Mhmmm let go for me pretty girl,” He encouraged as his fingers moved faster and mouthed hungrily at your clit.

You became a shaking moaning mess as he continues his ministrations. Your orgasm taking over your body. His hand gripped your thigh roughly as he kept going until your high was over. Once your back was flar on the mattress he slowly pulled out and pressed one last kiss on your puffy clit.

He made his way up your body kissing your stomach over your shirt and then you exposed cleavage. He kissed you fully and you could feel his mustache damp with your arousal. You could also taste yourself on his tongue which had you moaning again. Rafe lifted you to be farther up the bed so he can comfortably lay on top.

“You taste so fucking good I already wanna do it again,” He said smirking as he pulled away.

You smiled in a daze, “You’re gonna be the death of me.” As you reached your hand down to the front of his pants. Your hand cupped him through the material and he groaned, eyes rolling back in pleasure.

“Fuck I really really want to do more but I actually do have work in a couple hours,” He groaned. He wishes he could just call off and spend the whole night rolling around in bed with you.

You looked at him with slight disappointment but understanding, “You sure?”

He leaned down and bit your neck playfully, “Don’t look at me like that. I’ll be easily convinced.”

You giggled, “I understand Rafe.”

“I’m seeing you again though. I never lied about that. Especially after you let me have a taste of you,” He groaned dramatically, “So fucking delicious I’m addicted.”