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sh4nksslvt · 2 days ago

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The Ones Who Stayed Silent

They thought you didn’t know—but you saw everything, said nothing, and walked away with a shattered heart and silent grace… only to be seen again, happy and healed, with someone who would never make you feel like the only one.

shanks x reader | sanji x reader | ace x reader | ONE SHOT

tags: angst, sfw, ooc, heartbreak, cheating, betrayal

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff a bit cringe, akward, and confusing

word count: 3.9k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

SHANKS

The sea was always loud around the Red Force. Wind in the sails, waves breaking across the bow, laughter from the crew. And yet, in moments like this — with your head tucked beneath Shanks’ chin and his arm wrapped around your waist — it felt like the whole world stilled just to let you breathe.

“You always sneak into my bed when it’s cold,” he teased, voice low and rough with sleep.

You smiled against his chest. “Because your furnace body hoards all the heat.”

“Furnace body,” he repeated with a chuckle, fingers drifting slowly down your spine. “You really know how to charm a man.”

“Mmhm. That’s why you keep me around.”

“Nah,” he murmured, lifting your chin with a curled finger. “I keep you around because you make everything better. Even the cold nights. Especially the bad ones.”

Your heart tightened with warmth. “Shanks…”

He leaned down and kissed you slow. Deep. Familiar.

“Love you, baby,” he whispered, brushing his nose against yours.

You didn’t say anything at first. You just melted into him, eyes fluttering shut.

“I love you, too.”

You didn’t realize the first warning sign had come days earlier — a moment you almost forgot.

You had been leaning over the railing, watching the stars reflect across the ocean when Shanks walked up beside you, his presence easy and radiant as always. You’d barely noticed the woman trailing behind him — one of the newer crew members, tall and silver-haired, her laugh like syrup as it spilled from her throat.

She was laughing at something he said. You didn’t catch the joke.

You gave him a look. Not angry. Just questioning.

He smiled and curled an arm around your shoulder like it meant nothing. “She’s new,” he explained casually. “Still getting used to the crew.”

“She seems to be adjusting just fine,” you replied.

He pulled you closer. “Hey. Don’t go getting jealous on me, baby.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Good.” He kissed your temple. “Because there’s no one else, alright? You know that.”

You nodded, even though a small part of you felt unsure.

He always made things feel safe again.

Three nights later, you brought him a drink in the captain’s quarters after dinner. He was at his desk, boots kicked up, talking with that same woman again — her knee pressed just slightly too close to his. They both looked up when you entered.

“Baby,” Shanks greeted, brightening immediately. “Perfect timing.”

She excused herself politely, offering a warm smile before slipping out the door. Shanks took the drink from your hand and tugged you into his lap without hesitation.

“She’s around a lot lately,” you said quietly.

“She’s an eager crewmate,” he shrugged, nuzzling into your neck. “What, you wanna get rid of her?”

“Don’t joke.”

“Hey.” His voice softened, and he turned your face to meet his. “There’s nothing going on. I promise. You believe me, right?”

“…Yeah.”

His lips brushed yours, slow and certain. “You’re the only one I want, baby. Always.”

You leaned into the kiss, letting the reassurance sink in.

Still, that night, you couldn’t fall asleep right away.

You started noticing more of it after that.

The way her eyes lingered on him when she thought you weren’t looking. The shared laughs during dinner. The time you caught her slipping out of his cabin early in the morning — she claimed she’d been dropping off maps.

You wanted to believe him. You tried.

But the ache in your chest started to bloom quietly. Slowly.

A small doubt that pressed harder with each soft “baby” he whispered — the very word that used to feel like a prayer now sounded like a lie.

Still, you said nothing.

You waited. You watched.

And then… you saw everything.

It was almost midnight when you approached his quarters.

You held a small cloth bundle in your hands — a gift you'd picked up from a small island earlier that week. A pair of rare sea-glass earrings. He’d admired them in passing. You wanted to surprise him.

You opened the door without knocking.

And there she was.

Her fingers tangled in his red hair. His lips trailing down her neck. His voice — low, teasing, affectionate.

“You feel so good, baby…”

You froze.

He didn’t see you.

You didn’t speak.

You just stood there. Long enough to burn the image into your mind. Long enough to feel your throat close, your heartbeat stutter, your entire body go numb.

Then, quietly, you closed the door.

You dropped the earrings into the sea later that night.

You didn’t sleep that night.

You sat on the edge of your bed for hours, staring at the moonlight bleeding through the porthole, your chest hollow, your limbs heavy. There were no tears. No rage.

Just silence.

You kept replaying his words — not the ones he said to her, but the ones he said to you.

“There’s no one else, baby. You’re the only one I want.”

Each lie sounded sweeter than the last.

You didn’t go to him. You didn’t want an apology. You didn’t want to hear his mouth twist the truth into something manageable. Because now you knew — every time he held you, he’d already chosen someone else.

So you wrote.

Your hand trembled at first. But as the words poured out, your chest began to lighten — like you were finally breathing again.

Shanks, I hope this letter finds you — though I know it will, because I’m leaving it on your bed. Right where I used to sleep. Right where she’s probably sleeping now. I saw you. I saw the way you touched her. The way you said “baby” like it still meant something. The same way you said it to me just days ago — when you kissed me good morning, when you laughed in my arms. It used to make me feel special. Now, it just makes me feel stupid. You told me not to worry. That she meant nothing. That I was the only one. You were so good at saying it. So gentle. So convincing. I wanted to believe you — God, I did. Because I loved you more than anything. More than reason. More than pride. But you looked at her the way you used to look at me. And I can’t forget that. So I’m leaving. Not because I want to hurt you. Not even because I hate you. But because I can’t stay and pretend I’m enough for you when you already decided I wasn’t. I hope the sea gives you peace. I hope you find what you’re looking for. And I hope — one day — you realize what you threw away. Because I would’ve given you everything. But now? Now, I’ll give myself the one thing you never could. Freedom. Goodbye, — Y/N

You left before sunrise.

The docks were quiet, the crew asleep, and your bag packed light. No goodbyes. No farewells. You just vanished — like mist over the sea.

Shanks woke with a lazy grin, his arm stretched across the bed to pull you closer—

But there was no one there.

Only the rustle of sheets. The ghost of warmth.

He sat up, rubbing at his eyes. Maybe you were getting breakfast. Or with the crew.

Then he noticed it: a small folded note on the pillow.

His name written in your handwriting.

His heart dropped before he even opened it.

And when he did…

The world collapsed.

He read every line once. Then again. Slower. Disbelieving.

“I saw you.” “You called her ‘baby.’” “You told me I was the only one.”

He was up in seconds, barefoot and shirtless, bursting through his cabin door.

“Y/N?!” His voice echoed down the corridor. “Y/N, wait—!”

No answer.

He stormed toward your room — empty. Searched the deck — nothing. Sprinted to the galley, the crow’s nest, the storage bay. Every familiar hiding spot. Every place you used to sit and smile at him like he was the only thing in your world.

“Have you seen Y/N?” he asked the crew, trying to keep his voice level.

“No, Captain,” came the confused reply. “Did something happen?”

He didn’t answer.

He barged back into the woman's quarter slamming the door behind him.

The woman — the one he’d betrayed you with — was still pulling on her coat lazily, as if nothing had happened.

“Hey, what’s all the noise—?”

“Get out.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I said get the hell out.” His voice was low, ragged, dangerous.

She laughed nervously. “Shanks, don’t be dramatic—”

“Out!” he roared, slamming his fist into the desk. The wood splintered. The room shook.

She scrambled, nearly tripping over herself as she fled.

And just like that, the silence returned.

He sank into the nearest chair, the note trembling in his hand.

You looked at her the way you used to look at me. I would’ve given you everything. Now, I’ll give myself the one thing you never could. Freedom.

Shanks closed his eyes, forehead resting on the crumpled page.

He tried to remember the last time he said he loved you — the last time you laughed in his arms. The last time you looked at him without doubt.

He’d called you baby with the same mouth that whispered it to someone else.

And now he couldn’t even call your name without shame.

The Red Force had never felt so quiet.

And Shanks had never felt so empty.

You found work on a merchant vessel at first. Later, you traveled alone. You didn’t speak of him. You didn’t speak of you. You let time do what it does best — wear grief down to a dull ache.

Until one day, someone else came into your orbit.

Dracule Mihawk was not the kind of man who chased after affection. But he noticed you — the quiet way you watched the world, the grief you wore like armor, the strength you didn’t flaunt.

He didn’t ask for your story. He just stayed long enough for you to offer it.

And when you did, he listened.

He didn’t make you promises. He didn’t call you “baby.” He simply treated you like you mattered.

He touched you with reverence. Looked at you with intention.

Loved you without lies.

And somehow, that was enough.

A Year Later

The festival lights painted the harbor gold, laughter echoing between stalls and taverns as music played softly in the distance. You walked beside Mihawk, his coat draped over your shoulders, your fingers laced with his.

You smiled — a real, easy thing — as he said something dry and clever under his breath, pulling a laugh from you. You leaned into him without thinking.

Then you felt it.

That weight. That familiar gravity.

You turned your head and saw him.

Shanks.

Standing beneath a lantern near the docks, cloaked in shadow but unmistakably there. His red hair tousled by the wind. His body frozen.

His eyes — wide, stunned, hollow — locked on yours like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

You didn’t flinch.

You didn’t look away.

You simply turned slightly toward Mihawk and pressed your lips softly to his cheek, your hand never leaving his. Mihawk didn’t ask. He didn’t have to. His grip on you tightened just slightly, grounding you.

Shanks took a step forward.

But then… he stopped.

His mouth opened like he might speak — but no words came. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t arrive a year too late.

So you let the silence say it all.

You gave him one last look. Calm. Final. Then you turned and walked away, leaving him rooted to the edge of the world he once ruled.

He had seen a thousand sunsets at sea. Watched a thousand tides roll in. Weathered storms and battles and death itself.

But nothing ever gutted him like seeing you again — whole, radiant, untouchable.

You weren’t sad anymore.

You weren’t his anymore.

You had Mihawk. And Shanks could see it in every step, every touch, every soft smile you gave the other man — the peace he once swore to protect, now in someone else’s hands.

And the worst part?

You didn’t hate him.

You just didn’t care anymore.

And that, somehow, hurt more than any scream or slap ever could.

He stood there long after you disappeared into the crowd. Alone. Cold. Remembering the way your voice used to sound when you whispered, “I love you.”

And for the first time in his life, Shanks had no idea how to get something back.

Because you were gone.

And you weren’t coming back.

SANJI

The sun kissed the shores of a quiet island nestled along the Grand Line, where the Straw Hat crew had docked for rest and resupply. You sat on a small stone wall beside Sanji, a paper cone of roasted chestnuts between you, your legs swinging gently. His hand brushed yours now and again, but he never held it. You never said anything about that.

“Try this one,” he said, lifting a particularly dark, caramelized chestnut to your lips. You laughed and leaned forward to take it, but he tugged it back teasingly. “Say please.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Please, my oh-so-generous chef.”

“That’s more like it,” he grinned, letting you take it before resting his chin in his hand, eyes soft. “How did I get lucky enough to end up with someone like you, huh?”

The words stung.

Because you’d started to notice the way he said the same line to other women when he thought you weren’t listening. When he thought your back was turned. When you were supposedly out with Nami and Robin.

But you smiled. You always did. That’s what love looked like, didn’t it? Smiling even when your chest cracked.

Later that evening, the crew checked into a humble inn on the island’s edge. Nami and Robin wanted to browse the market, and they invited you along, but your head hurt and your heart hurt more, so you declined.

“Don’t wait up, we might stay out late,” Nami warned with a wink.

You waved them off and headed to your shared room with Sanji, telling yourself you’d rest, maybe write in your journal, maybe stop thinking about how the past few weeks felt like soft unraveling.

But Sanji wasn’t there. And the window was open. You stepped closer and overheard his voice—soft, but excited.

“…She’s out shopping. We should hurry before she comes back.”

Your heart dropped.

You froze in place, hand still resting on the windowsill. Another voice answered, female, flirty. You didn’t need to see her to know.

You sat on the bed and waited. You waited because you needed to see his face when he walked through that door. Needed to see what kind of lie he’d come up with. Needed confirmation for the truth you already knew.

It was nearly midnight when the door creaked open. Sanji looked surprised, almost guilty—but he caught himself too quickly.

“Oh—you're still up, my love?” he said smoothly. “Sorry, I thought you went out with the girls.”

You didn’t answer. You just looked at him.

He walked over and sat beside you on the bed, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You okay?”

Still, silence.

He blinked, then tilted his head in concern. “You’re quiet tonight.”

You smiled. That same practiced smile you always wore. “Just tired.”

Sanji kissed your forehead and stood to change into his nightshirt, humming something under his breath. As if nothing had happened.

You left the next morning.

No confrontation. No fight. No angry tears.

Just a note.

Sanji, You used to look at me like I was your world. I should’ve known you just liked seeing your reflection in mine. I don’t even know what to say. I thought I knew you. I thought we had something. I thought you were different. But I know now—don’t I? I heard your words—your promises. You said, “We should hurry, while she’s out.” I never thought you could do this. Not to me. Maybe I’ve always been too trusting. Maybe I’ve been a fool. You lied with the kind of smile that made me question if I imagined it all. But I didn’t. I’m not mad. I’m heartbroken—there’s a difference. And the saddest part is, I would’ve forgiven you if you’d just told me the truth. But you let me rot in love alone. Don’t look for me. This is me leaving. Goodbye, Sanji. — Y/N

He found the note before breakfast. He read it once. Twice. Then again, each time slower. Robin noticed his shaking hand. Zoro asked where you were. Sanji couldn’t speak.

By midday, he was running through the island streets. Every alley. Every stall. He asked locals. Showed them your sketch.

No one had seen you.

You were gone. Completely. Like you’d never been there at all.

One Year Later

Rain lashed the docks of a bustling medical harbor. The Thousand Sunny had taken damage, and they stopped at a renowned doctor’s island to repair and rest.

Sanji didn’t smile as much these days. He still flirted, but half-heartedly, like a ghost of who he once was. Everyone noticed. No one said much.

He stood at the market stalls, bartering for fresh seafood when his heart stopped.

Because he saw you.

Hair a little longer. A warm coat drawn around your shoulders. Eyes brighter than they had any right to be.

You were laughing.

And beside you stood Trafalgar Law, umbrella tilted above you both, hand casually resting on your back as he pointed to a bouquet of herbs.

Sanji dropped the fish.

He couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

He watched as you reached for Law’s hand, how he intertwined your fingers like it was second nature, like he had every right to. How you smiled at him like Sanji had only ever dreamed of.

Law said something, and you leaned into him, nodding, face soft with affection.

Sanji turned away.

He made it two steps before the weight in his chest buckled him. He stumbled into an alley and pressed a hand against the wall, gasping.

Tears fell freely.

He didn’t go back to the ship until sunset.

That night, there was another note. Not from you, but written long ago. One he’d found after too much wine.

A passage you’d once written in your journal, now burned into his mind.

“You called me baby like I was the only one. But I wasn’t. I was just the only one who stayed.”

ACE

Smoke curled into the sky like ghosts of promises you once believed. The air on Karavel Island was thick with ash and gunpowder—another battlefield in Ace’s chaotic, flame-laced life. But this was your life, too. You’d followed him here. Again.

“Over here!” Ace called, waving at you through the debris with a wide grin, flames dancing around his arms. “Bet you can’t beat my body count today!”

You rolled your eyes but jogged toward him anyway, heart tugging like it always did. He looked good with soot smudging his cheek and fire lighting up the storm in his eyes. Alive. Dangerous. The kind of man who kissed like the world was ending—and maybe it always was.

“You burn it all down yet?” you teased, reaching his side.

“Nah, was waiting for you,” he said, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Where’s the fun without you?”

And for a second, it was perfect.

Until that second ended.

It was the small things. Always the small things.

The way he took longer and longer to return from missions. The way he stopped writing when he was gone. The way he still called you “baby,” but his eyes didn’t stay on yours for long.

You didn’t want to doubt him. Not Ace. Not the man who held you when you cried, who called you his home.

But then came the night at the underground tavern.

You were helping a wounded civilian upstairs when you heard it—his voice, muffled, laughing. A giggle answered him. A girl’s voice. Slurred. Familiar.

You paused on the stairwell, heart already sinking.

“…Come on,” Ace’s voice teased. “We don’t have much time.”

Your breath caught.

“I shouldn’t,” she whispered back.

“You’re the one who kissed me first,” Ace said, and your world tilted.

Silence.

Then another giggle.

Then the sound of lips meeting.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. Not even when the world twisted inside you. Not even when the lantern on the wall flickered like it knew the fire inside you had gone out.

You didn’t say anything when he came back to your shared room that night.

He acted normal—like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just touched someone else and then come to lie beside you.

You stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep.

In the morning, you were gone.

Ace, You once told me that fire doesn’t choose what it burns—it just does. I used to think that was poetry. Now I know it was a warning. You burned me, Ace. Not all at once. Just a little every day until I didn’t recognize my own heart anymore. I heard you. I saw you. And I still kissed you goodnight. Do you know what that does to a person? I gave you all of me, and you gave little pieces of yourself to strangers. I don’t hate you. I never could. But I can’t love you for both of us anymore. Don’t come looking for me. This is goodbye. — Y/N

The message was short. But it broke him anyway.

Ace stood in the ruins of the tavern, your letter clutched in his hands, his body shaking in a way fire couldn’t fix. He lit it aflame. Watched it turn to ash like everything else he touched.

He ran. Looked for you in every port. Asked the Revolutionaries. Asked pirates. Asked anyone.

You were gone.

One Year Later

It was raining in Yamabuki Port, but Ace stood still in the downpour, unmoving. The Whitebeard Pirates were resupplying, but he couldn’t focus—not when he saw you through the mist.

You were laughing.

Your coat was soaked, and your hair stuck to your forehead, but you looked so alive. So whole.

And beside you stood Zoro.

The swordsman from the Straw Hat crew — his brother's crew.

He was holding a paper umbrella above your heads, a quiet look in his eyes as he listened to whatever story you were telling. When you stumbled slightly in the mud, he caught your elbow. You smiled at him with a softness Ace had never earned.

Zoro reached up and brushed your hair from your face like it was second nature. You leaned into his touch without hesitation.

Ace felt it all in his gut. Like a blade through fire.

He didn’t approach.

Didn’t call your name.

Didn’t move.

You glanced across the square and your eyes met.

Just for a moment.

There was no hatred in your gaze. No anger.

Only peace.

You looked away.

And Ace knew—he was watching a version of you he’d never get to meet.

That night, Marco found him sitting alone on the deck, soaked to the bone even though the rain had stopped hours ago.

“You saw them, didn’t you-yoi?” Marco asked quietly.

Ace didn’t answer. Just stared at his hands.

“I thought I had time,” he whispered. “I thought… I could fix it.”

Marco said nothing. There was nothing to say.

Because some fires don’t go out.

They just move on without you.

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bloomseishiro · 3 days ago

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DAYDREAMING, WITH MY CHIN IN THE PALM OF MY HANDS — ITOSHI RIN

౨ৎ — sure, rin may be an asshole, but for some reason he offered to help tutor you in your worst subject, english. so maybe he’s not as bad as you thought. maybe he’s actually someone you could find yourself falling for.

itoshi rin x fem!reader. fluff, high school au/no blue lock au, pining, the long awaited part 2 of “it’s impossible to ignore you” :3 ahh i loved writing this omg reader and rin r everything to meeee!! pls enjoy xx

word count. 6.3k

“Rin is going to tutor you?” your friend, Akemi, asks with her jaw on the floor. “The same Rin who rejects girls by saying he doesn’t have time for them?”

You nod sheepishly, just as surprised as she is. “He knows if I fail one more exam, I’ll have to retake the class during summer. And he offered to help me. Still, I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.”

Her eyes widen as she takes a bite of her beef rice bowl. “Why would I not want my best friend to get help from the best English speaker in our grade? I don’t want you to fail!”

“But he broke your heart just yesterday!”

Akemi sighs, waving her hand dismissively. “Yeah, he did. And he sucks for that. But I guess I was more infatuated with him than in love. I mean—what’s his favorite color anyway?”

You shrug.

“I don’t know either. Someone in love should probably have known at least that,” she giggles. “You don’t need to turn down a great opportunity on my account.”

Giving her a grateful look, you mumble, “I really do want to pass English. Do you think he can actually help?”

“If he can’t, who can?”

“The Tooth Fairy? Maybe if I find a tooth to put under my pillow…”

She makes a face. “First off, that’s gross. Second, I think the Tooth Fairy only gives you money, not a passing grade.”

You groan, placing your head in your hands with an exaggerated movement.

Akemi simply laughs at your dramatics. “Oh, come on. Studying won’t be that bad. When’s your first tutoring session, anyway?”

“It was supposed to be now,” you reply, twirling a strand of hair as you glance away to avoid her incredulous stare. “But I just couldn’t start without making sure you were okay with it first! I asked Rin if we could postpone…”

“Y/N!” she exclaims, practically slamming down her bowl of rice onto the cafeteria table. “That’s so stupid of you! And sweet. Very sweet. You’re the best friend ever. But you could’ve been at least three times more knowledgeable about English by now!”

You give her a sideways look. “Three times? Don’t you give Rin too much credit?”

Akemi raises her brow at you. “Have you ever paid attention to him speaking English? Three times better in one session is the minimum. Go text Rin and reschedule for after school.”

“But—”

“No buts,” she says sternly.

“But,” you continue in an exaggerated tone, “he has soccer practice after school.”

“Tell him you’ll wait for him then,” Akemi offers as if it’s the most obvious solution in the world. “You are the one who cancelled your lunch session at the last minute, after all. It’s the canceller’s duty to reschedule.”

“That’s not even a word.”

She glares at you.

You sigh in resignation, holding your hands up as you swallow the last bite of your food. “You’re right. I have English with him next period. Apparently. I’ll ask him if he can tutor me this evening when I see him.”

Akemi nods in satisfaction, giving you a wide grin and a thumbs up. “Good luck, Y/N. I know you’ll ace the next test!”

Exchanging a small smile, you nod in determination. “I will definitely pass. The next exam will be mine!”

At least, you hope so. That is what Rin told you, after all, and soon it’d be time to see if he lives up to that promise.

Half of you expects Rin to say no, that he’s too busy to tutor you tonight and it’s totally your loss for cancelling on him in the first place. But to your surprise, he simply nods.

That’s how you find yourself sitting on the bleachers as you watch Rin playing soccer at his after school club.

Oddly enough, it seems you aren’t the only one.

“Oh, my god! Rin is so good,” the girl to your left, a few rows away from you swoons.

“Yeah, he’s totally in charge on the field,” says another in a similar, dreamy tone. “So intense!”

A guy sitting next to them snorts, folding his hands over his arms. “Too intense. All he cares about is soccer and winning. Nothing else.”

You raise your brow, looking over at the group with your peripheral vision. There was no doubt in your mind that the guy had a crush on one of the girls he was with, but she was too hopelessly infatuated with Rin to notice.

The classic highschool love triangle.

Sort of. Maybe it’s more of a broken love line.

As the sun begins to set, the coach ends the practice and tells everyone to keep up the good work before dismissing them.

You silently watch Rin down a bottle of water before grabbing a clean towel to wipe his face and neck. Seeing as the practice was over and it would likely be time for your tutoring session soon, you make your way down to the field.

“Not another one of Rin’s secret admirers,” one of his teammates groans to another. “I’ve seen enough rejections this week to last a lifetime.”

If Rin can hear them (which, given he’s only three feet away, there’s no doubt that he can’t), he chooses to ignore them completely. Instead, he saunters over to you and nods in greeting.

“Give me a minute to change, then we can go,” he says, brushing his hair out of his face with his fingers. “Wait for me by the door.”

From the corner of your eye, you see his teammates’ jaws drop as Rin begins to walk away to clean himself up.

“Is he willingly…speaking to a girl?” whispers one with a bleached blonde streak in his fringe.

Another shivers, a horrified look on his face. “I feel like the world just turned upside down.”

You stifle a laugh at their dramatics. The concept of Rin willingly interacting with someone of the opposite sex shouldn’t be that revolutionary. But, you have met Rin, after all. His stoic and uncaring persona did run rampant at times. Perhaps their shock isn’t so misplaced.

Much to your pleasure, you don’t have to wait long for Rin to finish up in the locker rooms. The outfit he changed into is a casual one—a simple crew neck and black joggers—but he somehow manages to look fully put-together.

He comes up to you and you wave, finally allowing yourself to smile. “Hi, Rin.”

“Hey,” he says, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Ready?”

You nod, walking side-by-side with him as you skip over to the school library. It’s not open for too much longer, but it should be enough for you to get a good hour of tutoring in.

“How was practice?” you ask conversationally as you make your way down the hall.

Rin shrugs. “Nothing special.”

You huff to yourself, glad to see he was as chipper as ever. And to think you two almost had a moment after that train ride… It must’ve been your delusions talking.

As he enters the library, he finds a table for you to sit at near the back, away from the librarian and remaining students so as to not disrupt them with your talking.

“The last test we had in the class was about reading comprehension, right?” asks Rin, pulling out a children’s picture book written in English and handing it over to you. “Is your issue that you don’t know the words, or you don’t understand the meaning?”

“Of course I know the words!” you cry indignantly, proving yourself by reading a random page of the book and translating them out loud in Japanese. “Back when all we did were vocabulary tests in the previous years, I aced those. It’s the…putting it together I don’t get.”

He nods as if he expected it. “I figured you would know how to translate it. You are in the advanced English class, after all,” he says dryly.

“Somehow,” you murmur.

“Knowing how to translate each word to Japanese is different from understanding it in English.”

“That’s what the hard part is,” you agree miserably.

Rin snorts, “Then maybe you shouldn’t have done Advanced English. You would’ve done just fine in the normal classes. This is the only teacher who actually cares about our conversational and comprehension skills.”

“But I always take the advanced classes!”

“How’s that working out for you?”

You glare at him. “Well, it’d be better if my English tutor was actually helpful!”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m getting there. I have to gauge how bad you are before I know where you need help.”

You heave a sigh, unable to argue with his logic.

Rin searches something on his phone before showing it to you. “Here, can you read that?”

Nodding slowly, you say the title in Japanese, “Analysis of relative gene expression data using real-time quantitative—”

“In English,” interrupts Rin exasperatedly.

You frown. “But… I don’t know how to pronounce it.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just try.”

Try and make a fool of yourself? No thanks.

You shake your head stubbornly.

Rin pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales loudly. “Okay. Well, you can theoretically translate a research paper, but you don’t know how those words go together. And you can’t make sense of it in English.”

“Sounds accurate,” you sniff.

“All that knowledge about vocabulary and grammar won’t do you any good if you can’t understand the source language,” he comments, deadpan but not rude.

“Well, how do we fix it, doctor?” you say sarcastically.

He huffs, taking his phone back from you in one swift motion. “We put you through the most intensive training regimen I know. Watching English movies.”

Your next tutoring session is at Rin’s house.

It’s a nice house, but rather empty. There are pictures of him, his parents, and someone you assume to be his brother scattered throughout the hallways, but no one else is home. When Rin opens the door, he doesn’t even have to greet anyone or introduce you to his parents before bringing you to his room.

The session starts with Rin going over some grammar and sentence structures from an earlier class (one that you definitely slept through), and segues into you reading another children’s book. This time, he demands you read it in English and give him a summary about what it’s about instead of translating each word into Japanese.

“The larger context is more important than each individual word. Even if you don’t know a few words, you should still be able to understand what’s going on,” he says, already sounding impatient. But really, you think that’s just the perpetual tone of his voice.

This time, you dutifully listen. You had to put your trust in Rin’s tutoring skills if you wanted a chance to pass the class.

As you read through the picture book with a giant elephant on the cover, your brows furrow in confusion. You aren’t sure if you’re just complete ass at reading English, or if the story was genuinely this bizarre.

“Rin,” you say hesitantly.

“Hm?”

“Is this really about an elephant finding a small planet on a speck on a clover? And no one believes him because they can’t see it? Until they… Yopp?”

Rin nods, looking thoroughly impressed. “So you can understand some English.”

“I don’t think half of the words in this book are even real!”

“Exactly why it’s a perfect way to force you to focus on the context over translations,” he retorts.

You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity. Still, it did help you find some confidence in your comprehension skills. If you can read English on a paper, maybe understanding it audibly isn’t so far out of reach.

Turning the TV in his room in, Rin lazily turns to you. “Time to start the intensive part. Let’s watch a movie in English. I’ll keep the Japanese subtitles on for a bit, but then change it to English subtitles only.”

You bite your lip, fiddling nervously with a thread on your sleeve. “I don’t know… That sounds a lot harder than reading a picture book meant for five year olds.”

“We can pause when you need to and go slow.”

Reluctantly, you nod. “What are we going to watch?”

“The Conjuring.”

“What’s that about?”

“You’ll see.”

Rin sits on one side of his bed, gesturing for you to join him. Your cheeks begin to burn at the implication of joining him in bed, but the butterflies instantly turn into dust the moment he so obviously scoots away to put the most distance he possibly can between you two.

As you blink at him questioningly, he simply explains, “My TV is better than the one in the living room. I’m not trying to…”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Yeah,” he finishes awkwardly.

The moment the movie comes onto the screen, your eyes widen with dread. It’s dark, and eerie, and you immediately know what this is.

“A horror movie?!” you cry indignantly. “I did not sign up for this.”

“The plotlines in American horror movies are relatively simple,” insists Rin. “It should be easier for you to follow compared to a drama.”

You squint at his explanation, taking a pillow from his bed and hugging it close to your chest. “That sounds like baloney.”

He snorts in amusement, eyeing the way you are clutching his pillow in a death grip. “Why? Are you scared?”

“No!”

Rin sighs, “I’ll keep the lights on.”

You pause before muttering, “Thanks.”

The movie starts and you immediately regret all your life choices. Is Rin trying to help you pass your English class, or is he secretly trying to torture you?

Rin really is an asshole…

It doesn’t take a genius to feel the sense of suspense and unease in the film, even if you didn’t fully understand what the actors were saying. You knew there was some demonic supernatural shit going on and you immediately hated it.

Rin extends his leg and you can’t help but yelp at the sudden movement.

Your head snaps to his, eyes wide and alert.

“I was just getting a cramp,” he says with a hint of laughter in his voice.

Of course, you were scared out of your mind and he was laughing. What do all the girls even see in him?

You huff, sinking deeper into his bed and allowing his pillow to block more and more of your vision. In your fear-clouded haze, you vaguely notice Rin offering you another one of his pillows to hold. Those fluffy feathers would certainly be enough to fend off any evil spirits.

During a particularly intense part, you find yourself abandoning the pillows and creeping over to Rin’s side of the bed, too scared to register how you grabbed his arm and buried your face in it.

“I’m going to turn off the subtitles now,” he says, but you don’t let go of him as he reaches for the remote to change the settings. He glances over at you, his lip curled up. “Do you need a break?”

“No.” You shake your head fervently. “Let’s get this over with as soon as possible.”

He shrugs and resumes the movie, almost unfazed as you attach yourself back onto his side.

This isn’t something you’re used to doing when you watch a movie with someone. In fact, you’re normally perfectly content sitting in your own personal space. But this movie was terrifying and you were willing to use anything that provided some source of comfort.

Besides, it doesn’t seem like Rin minds… Knowing him, he would’ve shoved you off the bed or told you to move if he got too uncomfortable. Plus, this situation is all his fault anyway.

To your surprise, you understand some of the phrases the actors are saying despite having only English subtitles. Though, it comes at your own demise as you grow even more scared at the movie.

You yelp as a jumpscare scene occurs, hiding your face behind your hair and pressing your cheek against Rin’s arm.

A stifled laugh comes from beside you and you’re about to tell him off for finding enjoyment from your misery when he casually brushes your hair back behind your ear. The words on the tip of your tongue instantly become nothing but a forgotten whisper as your stomach flip-flops about ten times in the span of five seconds.

The gentleness of his touch still burns your face. You look up at him, confused.

“You can’t watch when your eyes are covered,” he says with his attention already back to the movie.

You huff in annoyance. Trying to read Rin is harder than English.

For a moment, you’re tempted to put on a brave face and pull away, but you catch Rin looking over at you once more. This time his gaze is covert, as if he doesn’t want to be noticed. But it’s there. Though his expression is neutral, his eyes are bright as they burn into yours. When he sees you staring back, this time he doesn’t attempt to look away.

Okay, so maybe you could understand why he had girls always swooning over him.

The intensity of his gaze almost makes your cheeks flush. Almost.

Luckily for you, a sudden and loud noise from the movie jolts your mind away from…whatever that moment was.

As the movie comes to an end and the plot is left unresolved, you are still as unsettled as you were when the movie first started. That is to say, Rin really screwed you over by making you watch this.

“I officially hate you,” you proclaim as he turns the television off.

“Again?” He raises his brow. “Why now?”

“Because, what kind of asshole makes someone watch a horror movie that will traumatize them for the rest of their lives?!”

“It’s just The Conjuring.”

You glare at him but he pays it no mind.

“If you’re scared, that must mean you understood it,” he says smugly.

“It’s not difficult to understand when there’s creepy music and dark shadows and everyone sounds slightly insane!”

“See, it’s all about context.”

“I hate you.”

“Do you?” he challenges.

You sigh, “No. Well, maybe temporarily because there is no way in hell I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.”

Rin fixes the pillows on his bed as you get off. “Are you really that scared?”

“Yes! Do you think I’m faking this for dramatic effect?” you ask, incredulous.

“No, but it’s just a movie. You don’t need to be scared once it stops playing.”

“Tell that to my brain.”

Rin snorts and you fold your arms over your chest, looking out the window and wincing once you notice just how dark it is.

“The sun’s already down?” you say with a small voice. “Maybe I should ask my mom to pick me up…”

“Don’t you live nearby?”

You nod, toying with a strand of your hair nervously. “Yes, but a demon can still get me within the ten minutes it takes to get home.”

Rin shakes his head but grabs a jacket as you begin to pack your belongings. “I’ll walk you home, then.”

You pause as you’re shoving your pencil case into your book bag. “You will?”

“Better than having someone come all the way here just to escort you,” he says dryly, leading you out the door. “And…I guess it might be slightly my fault you’re scared.”

“Slightly?” you retort. “It’s definitely all your fault.”

“That’s a funny way of saying ‘thanks for the tutoring session, Rin.’”

You pull a face, crinkling your nose as you repeat monotonously, “Thanks for the tutoring session, Rin.”

He rolls his eyes but there’s a softness to his movements. “Yeah. Sure. You really are improving, you know?”

Begrudgingly, you nod. When he wasn’t making you read weird books and watch scary movies, he was surprisingly patient explaining concepts like participles and tenses. That part was certainly easier for you than trying to read and comprehend in English, so you were glad he pushed you to do that as well. Though today, it may have cost your sanity.

“I guess I should be more genuine,” you say guiltily. “I really am thankful for your help. I know you could be doing lots of other things with your time. Like, practicing more soccer or…watching scary movies. Or… Actually, I don’t know what else you do in your free time.”

He shrugs. “That’s about it, really. I play horror games, too, I guess.”

“With friends?”

“Does it seem like I make friends?” asks Rin in amusement.

You shake your head sheepishly. “Your brother, then?”

He frowns at the mention of his brother, his bright eyes growing dimmer. “No. Definitely not with him. Alone. I play alone. I like it better that way.”

Sensing that you accidentally overstepped on a touchy subject, you clear your throat and look away. “Well, that’s fun too.”

After a few moments of awkward silence as you walk down the poorly lit street, Rin offers, “Sorry.”

You spare him a questioning glance.

“For snapping,” he continues with an annoyed exhale. “We’re not on good terms. My older brother and I.”

You nod in understanding, lightly bumping your shoulder against his. “I could tell. I’m sorry for bringing him up.”

Rin waves you off. “It’s whatever.”

It’s definitely not whatever, but okay, you say to yourself.

The two of you continue walking down the street, turning the corner in silence, but this time it’s not awkward or uncomfortable. Just a neutral calmness. That is, until you hear the sudden ring of a bicycle bell and jump in fear.

Rin coughs to hide a laugh.

“I don’t even want to hear it from you!” you sniff, haughtily crossing your arms and walking ahead of him. “You’re the one to blame for my jitters. How will I ever sleep tonight?”

He raises his hands in surrender. “I know, didn’t I say I’m sorry already?”

“A sorry isn’t enough,” you say with a humph. “How will you atone?”

“You sound crazy,” he says, but humors you nonetheless. “I’ll send you funny cat videos until you fall asleep.”

Your ears perk at the offer. “You drive a hard bargain. Fine.”

“I don’t have your number.”

Rin hands you his phone and you swiftly add yourself as a contact.

“Did you really add yourself as ‘Rin’s Worst Nightmare, devil emoji, devil emoji’?”

You nod proudly.

“Just remember you said it, not me,” he smirked. “What will my name be on your phone?”

“Probably something like, ‘Number One Pain in my Ass.’”

“Creative,” he drawls.

You stick your tongue out at him.

Your walk continues and soon enough, you see the outside of your house come into view. There’s a light visible through the window and you thank the stars you won’t be coming home to a creepy, dark house.

“This is my stop,” you announce with a smile. “Thanks for walking me home.”

“Yeah. I guess I did owe you for scaring you shitless.”

You laugh in acknowledgment. The movie was scary, but at least there were moments you could get your mind off it. “And don’t forget you still owe me cat videos!”

Rin nods. “I’ll send them after I get ready for bed. Try to get some rest now.”

“You too, Rin.”

“How are your tutoring sessions coming along?” asks Akemi, laying down with her head hanging off your bed.

It’s Friday night after school and Rin told you that he would be too busy to tutor you tonight, which makes it the perfect time to catch up with your friend.

“Good, actually.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” she laughs.

“I thought he would change his mind and leave me to dry,” you reply with a giggle. “Rin’s offer was so sudden, you know? I was partly expecting him to take it back.”

“That does seem like something he’d do to most people,” Akemi agrees, then shoots you a devilish grin. “But not to you. He must like you.”

You shake your head in denial. “There’s no way that’s the case.”

“But what if it was?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows. “Would you be happy? Maybe you even like him back?”

Groaning, you throw a pillow at her face to stop her incessant questioning.

There’s simply no way Rin liked you. He was just slightly nicer to you because he thought you were someone who is actually worth his time. Whatever that means.

And there’s an even less chance you like him!

Rin has his caring moments, you will give him that, but most times he’s arrogant, emotionally unavailable, and ruthless. Somehow, those qualities suit him…

You catch yourself, shaking your head feverishly at the thought.

There’s no way you could be developing a crush on Rin.

So why do you feel yourself getting butterflies as you think about your next tutoring session?

This session is at your house this time.

You’ve had a handful of meetings in the library over the past few weeks, but Rin decided it was time for another intensive training session— Meaning, it was time for you to watch another movie.

“It won’t be horror this time,” he assures you, tone only slightly mocking. “I think you’ve gotten decent enough that you can graduate to a more confusing genre.”

“Like romance?” you say excitedly. If Rin forced you to watch a scary movie that gave you nightmares for two weeks straight, then you could force him to sit through some romance movies you know he would hate.

Heaving a sigh, he begrudgingly shrugs. “Student’s choice. Also, it’s your house. I don’t know what movies or streaming services you have.”

“So you’ll watch 10 Things I Hate About You with me?”

“It can’t be a movie you’ve already seen,” Rin says, folding his arms as he leans back on your couch. “The point is to try to piece together the plot and what the characters are saying, not recite something you’ve seen a million times.”

You pout, sitting on the opposite end of the sofa. “But it’s a good movie…”

“We’ll watch it another time. After you pass the exam.”

After you pass? So Rin’s implying he wants to keep hanging out with you even after these tutoring sessions are over? Your cheeks flush at the thought.

As you scroll through numerous streaming sites, you finally find a title that sounds familiar.

“My friend told me this one is good! How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,” you point out eagerly.

“You must like the number ten,” he comments.

“You’ll love it too after this!”

Rin stifles a chuckle, and you realize you’ve been hearing him semi-laugh more often lately. The ruthless ice prince does have a fun side to him. He is still, after all, just a high school guy in your grade. And you hate to admit that it fills you with some sense of pleasure knowing you’re the only one in school who has likely ever heard that noise come out of Rin’s mouth.

“Since it’s my first time watching too, we can compare our summaries after.”

You groan, almost forgetting that this was a tutoring session and not just a movie night with a friend. “Compare summaries? What’s next, do I have to cite my sources?”

He rolls his eyes at you. “Keep it up and I’ll say yes, you do.”

Immediately, you shut your lips, desperately wanting to avoid as much outside-of-school work as possible.

“This is so cheesy,” complains Rin as the two of you watch the movie in silence, both invested in the plot. “He has a bet, she has an ulterior motive, they’re going to fall in love while using each other, the reveal is going to split them apart, then they’re going to make up somehow and then the movie will end. I don’t even need to finish it to know.”

You glare at him, eyes fixed on the screen as Andie exchanges a touching conversation with Ben’s mother. “Spoilers, much?”

“I’m not spoiling, it’s an educated guess.”

“Keep it to yourself,” you demand playfully, sticking your tongue out. “Some of us like to be surprised.”

He exhales loudly but turns his attention back to the TV.

The rest of the movie passes by peacefully until you get to a certain scene where the main characters have their obligatory romantic kiss. The kiss is slow and playful, and the scene is so intimate you almost have to look away.

Bashfully, you take your eyes off the screen and see Rin following suit, the apples of his cheeks colored a faint pink.

He looks rather cute.

Your mind starts to wander, picturing you and Rin sharing a kiss like the one on screen and you find your throat getting dry. Would his lips be soft or chapped? They look soft. Would he be the type to hold your chin, your cheek, or your jaw as he kisses you? Maybe even the back of your neck, if you were lucky. You wanted to find out…

Slapping your hands to your face, you silently tell yourself to snap out of it.

He looks over at you, alarmed. “Did you just hit yourself?”

“I thought I felt a fly.”

“On both cheeks?”

“A fly on one side and a mosquito on the other.”

Rin’s brows shoot up before he shakes his head, knowing sometimes, it’s better not to question your logic. “Okay.”

Slowly, the scene escalates from a couple of gentle kisses to the characters taking each other’s shirts off.

Your eyes widen as your gaze is forced away once again.

“Hey. What the hell is this rated?” Rin coughs, his voice strangled. “Aren’t your parents home?”

Through your embarrassment, you glance at him in surprise. Did he really sound flustered just then? So Rin really does have the capacity to feel normal human emotions after all.

“Um, PG-13, I t-think,” you stammer, painfully aware of the actors continuing to make out topless on the television. “My parents are gone for the weekend, anyway.”

“Oh.”

It’s not until the scene is over that you and Rin both let out a sigh of relief, as if the tension could finally escape your bodies. You sink into the cushions, glad that you and Rin decided to sit on opposite sides of the couch. Otherwise, you would’ve been even more aware of his presence and curious about his kiss.

Neither are good things to focus on.

When the movie ends, you wipe away a stray tear at the conclusion. Of course, Rin was right about the entire plot, but that didn’t make it any less amazing.

“So, what’s your rating?” you ask once the credits finish rolling.

“For a movie that’s not horror, maybe a four.”

“Damn, tough crowd,” you say with a tsk. “I loved it! I would give it at least an eight.”

“You’re too generous,” retorts Rin. “What’s your summary?”

You rattle off the happenings of the movie from start to finish, even going so far as to talk about your favorite moments.

When you finish talking, Rin nods, looking pleased with himself. “So you understand. We didn’t even use Japanese subtitles.”

“You’re right!” you exclaim, eyes full of excitement as you exchanged glances with him. “I’m definitely ready for the exam! I feel so much more confident in English comprehension already.”

“Told you you’d pass with me as your tutor.”

“I haven’t passed yet!”

“But you will,” he says, his tone overly-confident. He would be insufferably arrogant if he didn’t have the skills to back it up. Luckily for him, he did. “Soon, I won’t need to tutor you anymore.”

A barely-there frown crosses your face at the reminder.

Would there be no reason to see each other outside of school once you passed the class?

Something about that unsettles you.

Minutes of silence pass before Rin waves his hand in front of your face. “Hello?”

You swallow, forcing a smile. You don’t need to be thinking about that right now. “Sorry, I just spaced out there.”

“I can tell,” he says, somewhat amused. “It is getting late, maybe you need some sleep.”

That isn’t the case, but you nod in agreement.

“I’ll head home, then,” Rin states, standing up and slipping his jacket on. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You wave, walking him to your door and watching him walk away. “See you! And thanks for the help.”

He looks back briefly, raising his hand in acknowledgment and even that single shared glance is enough to send jitters through your body.

Closing the door, you rest your head back and groan. There’s no point in lying to yourself anymore. Not after you literally fantasized about making out with him while he was sitting right next to you.

You have a crush on Rin. And you are so screwed.

“Rin! I passed! Look, look!” you exclaim, holding your test paper out excitedly.

Class just ended and the teacher handed you your text back with a swift, “Nice job.” That might’ve been the best compliment you received in this class all year.

Naturally, the first person you wanted to show it off to was the one who helped you get the grade in the first place, Rin.

He pauses at your desk, peering closely at the grade on your test and nodding once. His lips are turned up in the slightest smile and he ruffles the top of your head.

“You did it,” he says.

You smooth down your hair, trying not to pay too much attention to how nice and warm his hand was. “All thanks to you.”

“I know.” Rin begins to walk to his next class and you follow along, bouncing on the balls of your feet nervously. “You did good too, I suppose”

“Gee, thanks,” you remark dryly. Still, an excited cheer comes out of you. “I don’t need to stay after graduation! How great is that?”

“You can enjoy your summer before we are thrown into adulthood.”

“I know!” you chirp. “And I really couldn’t have done it without you. Hey, how about… Never mind.”

Rin pauses, hanging around the hallway instead of entering his next lesson. He lifts an eyebrow in question. “How about what?”

The words get stuck in your throat as you open your mouth, your nerves getting the better of you. You aren’t someone who finds it easy to confess, and you know Rin’s track record with confessions isn't exactly great.

Yet, you want to ride the momentum of this excitement and ask. It’s now or never.

You take a deep breath before you ask, “How about I treat you to some dinner this Saturday? You know— As a thank you for your help.”

You can barely look Rin in the eye as he stares at you, cheeks dusted pink.

“I told you before we started you don’t need to give me anything in return,” he insists.

Immediately, your face falls. Of course, he would say no. At least he sugarcoated it for you instead of his typical cutthroat rejections…

“But, we can still get dinner this Saturday.”

You lift your head in surprise.

“It’ll be my treat, though.”

You blink. “Like a…? As in a…?”

Rin’s brows furrow at your nonsensical mutterings. “A what?”

“A…”

“Can you say it already?”

“A date?” you blurt.

He snorts, shaking his head in amusement. “Now, was that so hard to say?”

You pout at his teasing, sticking your lower lip out as he chuckles. “Hey. Don’t be mean.”

“Sorry,” he amends, though his smirk tells you he’s not actually sorry. “The answer is yes.”

“Huh?”

“It’s a date.”

“Really?!” you ask, unable to contain your excitement. Before he can even reply, you bounce closer to him, throwing your arms around his waist as giving him a hug.

He stiffens for a moment before slowly returning your embrace. Rin’s hand rests on the small of your back and you want nothing more than to stay like this.

Until the bell rings and snaps some sense into you.

You jolt at the sudden ring and Rin coughs to hiss his embarrassment at the public display of affection.

“Oh, shit! I’m late. So late,” you cry, holding the strap of your book bag and spinning around frantically. “Bye, Rin! Let’s talk about our date after school!”

“I’ll see you after practice then,” he calls out as you run off. “We can plan it while I walk you home.”

Your cheeks heat up and you feel thankful he can’t see the embarrassment evident in your expression. Who knew Rin could be smooth like that? Saying he’ll take you out on a date and walk you home today so casually?

It’s another side of him you want to get to know more about.

There are times he can be an asshole, and honest to the point of being uncaring. But he’s also surprisingly nice at times. And even patient. You hope the next layer for you to unravel, which is perhaps the most exciting of all, is to learn how Rin is as a boyfriend.

You giggle to yourself at the thought. Would he be teasing and mean? Or doting and affectionate? Maybe a bit of both.

Shaking your head, you stop yourself from fantasizing. It’s just one date, that doesn’t mean he’s your boyfriend yet. But you’re in no rush. The most fun part is the journey it takes to get there.

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin x reader #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock #bllk #blue lock x you #bllk x you #bllk fluff #bllk fanfic #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #rin fluff #itoshi rin x you #rin x you

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vibrantdream · 2 days ago

Text

Usually when people say they can hear colors, it's because they've eaten something they shouldn't have. There are the few who are gifted, of course, to experience a single sensation multiple ways, but I am not one of those people. And yet, the blue sky above me was positively singing. It was such a lovely, clear tone, unlike any instrument or human voice I'd heard before.

And it was utterly at odds with the sheer amount of pain I was in. My head hurt the most. It felt like my skull might rupture at any moment. To be honest, it felt like it already had.

Yes.

It wasn't a voice... or words, exactly. And yet, there was communication. Understanding. I vaguely remember a bright flash. Agony. Voices. Then...the sky was singing.

I tried to move, to push myself up.

NO! The something inside me screamed, like an electric shock through my body. I raged back against it, but it gave me no quarter. Then everything went dead silent. No sound of wind, of insects. The sky had stopped singing. I couldn't even hear the pounding in my head anymore. Hasa. Silence. It wanted me to be quiet. But I knew... I knew I had to do... something. I couldn't just lay there. Something was horribly, horribly wrong.

Sound was coming back now, but slowly, gradually. I still couldn't move. Not a muscle. Not an inch. All I could do was stare at the sky and listen. I didn't have to wait for very long.

"Miss? Miss! Are you alive? Miss!"

The voice was streaks of red and orange across my vision. I wanted to turn and look for the voice's source, but my other still fought me. Fortunately, the owner of the voice soon came to me. A young man, in plain clothes, looking bedraggled, to say the least. He was drenched with sweat and covered in dirt. He knelt over me with the most panicked expression I'd ever seen. His colors sounded frantic.

"Miss, are you still alive, miss?"

It took monumental effort just to blink twice in answer. The other didn't comment, but it did seem angry. Help. I tried to reassure it.

The young man scooped me gently off of the ground and carried me away from where I'd lain. With so many new sights, I had to close my eyes to quiet the cacophony. But I couldn't close my ears, and each new sound was a dazzling dance of color across a black background.

~~~~~~

"Thank you."

It was the first thing I was able to say to him after weeks of his diligent care. As with everything these days, the effort it took was enormous. Both syllables were meticulously formed, but my voice still sounded slurred, warped almost.

None of it mattered, because Everen's face lit up. "You're welcome! And you're speaking! Are you feeling better? Do you think you'll be ready for solids soon? My mother wants to bake you her famous cheesy sausage rolls, says they work miracles..."

He was always such a chatterbox. I tried to tell him to slow down, but what came out of my mouth was a jumbled mess of sounds.

No. The other insisted.

He frowned. "So you can't talk?"

Not yet, I wanted to say. I settled for shaking my head.

"But you do understand." He said.

I nodded.

"Okay." He said. "Okay. It's a start. It's progress."

~~~~~~

It was another few months before I could really move under my own power. My body was weak and slow to respond. I was clumsy, and Everen was attentive to helping me learn to move again.

I could sit up, at least, which was, admittedly, an improvement.

I also had to admit that Rani's cheesy sausage rolls were helping me regain my strength. Maybe they were miraculous.

Then one day, the routine changed.

There was a loud bang, then overlapping voices and noise in the next room. I couldn't quite distinguish what was being said--it's hard to focus when each individual word dances in one's vision and races across one's skin. I was getting used to my senses having permanent crossover, but I got overstimulated easily.

Move.

The other had never insisted I do anything before. It usually tried to stop me trying things.

MOVE!

I lurched out of the bed, falling to the floor, but the thud I made seemed to be drowned out by the noise in the next room. Everything hurt. I dragged myself across the ground to the door, pulling myself up on the door frame, before I pushed the door open. There were armored, uniformed men in the room, digging through storage, knocking things over. Rani and Everen were begging one, the leader, I assumed, to stop.

"You're behind on your payments." He said gruffly. "And the lord of the land wants his due."

"We'll have the money soon." Everen said. "The lambs will be ready for market in another month. We just need time!"

"No can do." Said the man. "Payment is due today. If you don't have the money, we'll have to take equivalent compensation."

"Stop." I whispered.

Everyone in the room froze.

The leader looked at me. "What have we here? Harboring fuguitives, Rani? The census says there are only two living in your house, ever since your husband--"

"She's not a fugitive!" Everen said. "Just badly wounded. She needed help. We never tried to deceive his lordship."

Some of the lower ranked thugs were coming toward me. I didn't want them touching me.

"Larfialt." We said together, and they flew into the opposite wall.

The leader drew his sword. "Attacking his lordship's men is a punishable offense, girl."

I leveled him with a glare. "Kavarsti," we said as one, and the man incinerated on the spot.

The thugs all looked between each other, then at me.

"Out." I said.

They ran.

Everen ran to me. "Denra, are you alright? You're bleeding."

"Help," was all I managed to say before everything went dark.

~~~~~~

I was back to not moving, it seemed, though I could still make small motions.

"Hasa," I said, pushing the barest amount of magic into the room. If this was about to become a screaming match, I didn't want my hosts to hear it.

Finally, I was ready to confront the other.

"Who are you?"

You. Said the other

"No," I said. "I'm me. Who are you?"

You. It insisted.

"You can't be me," I said. "You're a separate... thing."

Yours. It said after a long pause.

"What do you mean?" I asked

Images flashed before my eyes. A young lady with long dark hair staring back at me from a mirror; she wore the robes of an apprentice mage, and something shimmering and transparent seemed to hover around her. Energy swirling around my body in a multi-colored tornado. Bright pulses of magical ammunition shooting from a staff in my hand. The soft blue glow of healing magic as I tried to fix a nasty wound. That same healing magic tingling and painfully bright filling my whole head.

Yours. It said again.

"You're my magic." I said, shocked.

Yes.

"You saved me."

Not all. It said. Tried to patch. Tried to be.

"You wanted to fill in for everything that was too badly damaged."

Yes.

"Is that why you didn't want me to move? To speak?"

Yes. Body... Hard to control.

"I shouldn't have been able to cast those spells either, weak as I was."

You're me. We are close.

"We can't do that again. It could kill us."

Body is fragile.

"Yes. Especially now."

Get better. Fast.

"I have been trying."

Enemies. They look.

"I think we're safe for now. But if you want me to recover quickly, you need to let me make choices for the body. I won't over do it. I know this body better than you."

My magic receded from my immediate awareness at that, though I could feel it hovering. I closed my eyes. It was right about one thing: I'd need to recover quickly if I wanted to avoid my enemies. More importantly, I'd need my strength to protect Rani and Everen. They'd been so kind to me, and it was looking like I might bring trouble to their doorstep by accident. I needed to be ready in case that happened.

When a mage is badly injured, magic sometimes "fills in the gaps"—growing an arcane hand or leg. You suffered brain damage that would have killed most. Magic filled in your mind.

#creative writing #my writing #writeblr #short story #fantasy #fiction #writing prompts #writing practice

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iluvsieunsveinydihh · 2 days ago

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Hellooo pls dont mind my grammar im not very good at english but anyways can you do a geum seungje x reader ff that the reader is go tak's sister and is very bratty when reader finds out abt what seungje did to her brother she decided to plan a revenge then she decided to team up with hu-min the mission is to make seungje fall in love with her and then lure him somewhere private then let hu-min probably kill him? But little did she know seungje is very much aware of her plan idk you can improvise the other part of the story you can make it a oneshot or series but pls include a smut?? If possible

Fool Me Once

 Geum Seungje x Reader (Go Hyun-Tak’s sister)

 warnings: Revenge, manipulation, enemies-to-lovers(?) tension, betrayal, smut, power play, angst.

You were always the brat. The loud one. The one who clung to Hyun-Tak’s arm and stuck your tongue out at his idiot friends, always the kid sister no one took seriously. Until Seungje broke your brother — and something in you broke too.

It started with fury. Pure, blinding fury. You watched Hyun-Tak fade — from your proud, protective little brother to a shell who barely looked you in the eye anymore.

You wanted Seungje to bleed for it.

Hu-min had the same idea.

He didn’t like you at first — called you loud, spoiled, said this wasn’t a game. But you knew how to get under people’s skin. Especially guys like Seungje.

“He’s arrogant,” Hu-min had said. “He’ll fall for you. You’re just his type. Pretty, bratty, loud — like a challenge he can break.”

And so you played your part. Tight skirts, glossy lips, batting lashes.

It didn’t take long.

Seungje liked to win — and you made him chase you like it was a war.

He kissed you the first time in a stairwell, hand slamming the wall beside your head, tongue pushing into your mouth with a force that made your knees buckle.

“Didn't think your brother would let you run around like this,” he muttered against your lips.

You smirked. “He doesn’t let me do anything.”

The irony tasted sweet.

You knew every touch, every stolen moment was a step closer to your trap. You let him drag you into corners, let his hands explore, whispered in his ear like you wanted him.

And maybe, sometimes, you did.

That scared you.

But you kept going. Because he deserved to suffer.

So when you texted him to meet you in that empty apartment — the one Hu-min had prepped — you wore a very short skirt with your uniform.

The one that clung to your hips and made Seungje’s eyes darken every time.

He came. Of course he did.

You smiled as you let him in, door clicking shut behind him.

“You alone?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded. “Thought we could finish what we started.”

His eyes raked over you. “You sure you’re ready for that, brat?”

You walked backward, pulling him by the belt until he hit the wall.

“I’ve been ready.”

His mouth crashed into yours — rough, desperate.

His hands pushed your dress up, fingers digging into your thighs, lips trailing down your neck.

“Been thinking about this every time you strut around like you don’t know what you’re doing,” he growled. “You like playing with fire?”

You gasped when he slid his hand up your skirt into your panties, fingers teasing, circling.

“Say it,” he said. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want it,” you whispered — breath hitching when he slid a finger in, slow and taunting. “I want you.”

But something shifted. His other hand grabbed your wrist — the one behind your back, the one you’d used to signal Hu-min.

“You think I’m stupid?” Seungje’s voice dropped to a venomous murmur. “You think I don’t know what this is?”

Your blood ran cold. “W-What?”

He pulled his hand back, and suddenly you were slammed against the wall, your back hitting hard — his body pinning yours.

“I’ve known since the beginning. The looks. The timing. You think I don’t know who your brother is to me?”

You struggled, heart pounding. “You don’t know shit.”

He smirked. “I know you wanted me to fall. Too bad I like being in control.”

Then his lips were on yours again — harder, hungrier, like he was proving a point.

Your body betrayed you, hips grinding against him, heat pooling between your legs despite the panic. You hated him. You wanted him. You couldn’t stop. “I’ll let your little friend show up,” he whispered, licking a stripe up your neck. “But you’re not walking out of here the same.”

His hands were everywhere — bruising your waist, tugging your dress down to your hips as your back scraped against the wall. The room was dim, cold, and silent except for your uneven breathing and the thud of your heart.

“You thought you were running the game,” Seungje growled against your mouth. “But I’ve been playing you since the start.”

You tried to twist away, but he caught your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“You want to hate me so bad. But you’ve been getting off on this — on me.”

His fingers trailed down your chest, over your bra, then yanked it down with one swift pull. You gasped — from the shock, the cold, the way his mouth closed around your nipple, tongue flicking, teeth grazing.

Your body arched — traitorously.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice rough. “Tell me this isn’t what you came for.”

But you couldn’t. Because you didn’t know anymore.

The plan was to seduce him. Use him. Get your revenge.

So why were you melting under his touch? Why was your core throbbing for him, even with your brother’s broken face etched in your memory?

Because he knew. He saw through you — and still wanted you.

You didn’t say stop.

Instead, you gripped his shoulders and pulled him closer, your lips crashing into his.

That was all he needed.

He turned you around, bending you over the arm of the dusty old couch. Your panties were ripped down, your skirt bunched around your waist.

“You wanted to play games?” he murmured, voice low and lethal. “Let’s play.”

He didn’t tease this time — just slammed into you in one hard thrust.

You cried out, fingers clawing the cushions, back arching as he filled you completely.

The stretch, the burn — it was brutal, and you loved it.

Seungje grunted behind you, one hand gripping your hip, the other tangling in your hair to yank your head back.

“You feel that?” he growled. “That’s what you wanted from the start.”

He set a brutal pace, each thrust rocking your body against the couch. You were gasping, moaning, cursing him — hating how good it felt.

“Louder,” he snapped. “Let your little partner hear how much you love being ruined.”

Your eyes widened. “H-Hu-mi—?”

Seungje laughed darkly. “He’s outside. Has been the whole time. Watching. Waiting.”

You clenched around him — part fear, part shame, part sick thrill.

“You’re lying—” you gasped.

He leaned down, breath hot on your ear. “Then why are you so wet?” You hated him. You hated yourself more. Your climax hit like a freight train, making your knees buckle. You cried out, back spasming as he kept pounding into you, chasing his own release.

When he came, it was with a groan and a bite to your shoulder, his grip bruising, possessive.

You both collapsed onto the couch — sweaty, breathless, tangled.

Silence. Until his lips brushed your ear. “Tell your brother I said hi.”

#weak hero class 2 smut #weak hero x reader #weak hero class 1 smut #weak hero class 1 x reader #weak hero smut #weak hero x reader #geum seongje smut #geum seongje x reader #geum seongje #whc2 x reader #whc1 x reader #whc2 #whc1

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rrysbabydoll · 1 day ago

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hiiiiii so i accidentally read ur last post "stached" as "stretched" at first and now i cant stop thinking abt that.... would u ever consider writing some ridiculously nsfw rough stretching? maybe? pretty pls? 🤭🫣💗

Ride, Cowgirl

Pairing: Harry Styles × Reader

CW: Explicit sexual content, dominant/submissive dynamic, size kink, rough stretching, degradation/praise mix, mild overstimulation, consensual power play.

Synopsis: Y/N tries to ride Harry but struggles to take his size. He takes control, pushing her past her limits with rough, overwhelming pleasure, leaving her ruined, praised, and full.

It started with you on top, because Harry asked, and you always try.

“Go on, darling,” he murmured, voice syrupy smooth but thick with authority. “Show me how much you want it.”

The bedroom was dim, moonlight cutting across the sheets in a narrow beam. He sat against the headboard, arms relaxed at his sides, watching you like a meal he had all the time in the world to devour. You were already breathless, thighs trembling, the ache between your legs unbearable.

And his cock—God—he looked too big.

He always did.

You hovered above him, your knees caging his hips. One of his large hands rubbed up and down your outer thigh in lazy, teasing strokes, while the other gripped the base of his cock, thick and pulsing and unreasonably hard.

“You’re not scared, are you?” he smirked tilting his head. “Thought you wanted to be my good girl.”

You did. You always did. But that didn’t make it easier.

You whimpered as you lined yourself up, holding his shoulders for balance. Just the head pressing against your entrance made your breath hitch.

“I can’t…” you whispered, hips jerking slightly away. “Harry, you’re too big.”

He gave a low chuckle, mocking but fond. “No such thing, love. You just have to relax. Take your time.”

But time wasn’t something Harry liked to waste, not when he was this worked up.

Suddenly, both of his hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your flesh with bruising promise. “You’ve teased me enough tonight. I let you sit on my lap in that little dress. Let you grind on me like a needy slut at dinner. Thought you could rile me up and then back out?”

Your mouth parted in a shaky breath.

“No,” you whispered, dazed.

“Then do it.” His voice dropped, tone commanding. “Get. On.”

He didn’t give you a chance to hesitate this time. His grip forced your hips down just an inch—just enough for the tip to slip past your entrance—and the stretch made you whimper, both hands clutching at his chest. It burned, in that way it always did. He was too wide, too thick. Your cunt spasmed around him, and you clenched without meaning to.

Harry groaned under you, head falling back with a tight jaw. “Fuck, you’re gripping already. Barely got the tip in, and you’re squeezing me like that?”

You moaned, half from pleasure, half from frustration. You tried to slide down farther on him, but your body resisted, muscles trembling. Your thighs started to burn from the effort. Every time you moved even a little lower, it felt like you were being split open.

He watched you struggle, his breathing getting heavier. His hands never left your hips, guiding, steady, controlling. “You want help, baby? Or you wanna prove you can take it?”

You whimpered, shaking your head. “I want to, I swear—I just can’t…”

He shushed you gently, a sudden contrast to his rough grip. “Don’t cry, angel. We’ll make it fit. You always take me, don’t you?”

You nodded, swallowing hard.

“Good girl,” he purred. “Then ride me.”

You tried again, lowering yourself more, inch by inch. Your walls stretched painfully around him, slick pooling between your legs. You cried out, digging your nails into his shoulder blades. You weren’t even halfway down, and it already felt like too much.

He groaned, sweat beginning to sheen on his chest. “You’re fuckin’ made for me. Look at you, struggling on top of me like this— fuck..”

The way he said it, it made your insides twist with need.

“I can’t ride you, H—” you gasped, tears stinging your lashes. “I—my legs are shaking, I—”

“Because you’re lazy or because I’m too big?” he asked lowly, cocky and calm.

You whined. “Both.”

He laughed—genuinely laughed—and then he gripped your hips tighter. “That’s alright, bunny. I’ll do it for you.”

And then, without warning, he bucked his hips up.

You screamed.

Your body sank onto him all at once, and your thighs gave out completely, collapsing onto his chest. You were so full, too full. It felt like he reached everywhere. Like he had no business fitting inside you at all.

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

“Shhh, shhh, I’ve got you,” he cooed into your ear, wrapping one strong arm around your waist. “There you go, baby. You’re doing so well.”

You tried to lift your hips again, but your legs wouldn’t cooperate. Your pussy fluttered helplessly around him, stretched to its limit, overwhelmed. The burn, the fullness, the way he kept praising you through your struggle, it was all too much.

“I feel so full,” you whispered, voice wrecked.

“I know you do.” He kissed your temple, his other hand coming up to cradle your jaw. “Look at you. Stuffed full of cock and still trying to be brave. You’re my perfect girl, aren’t you?”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks.

He shifted you in his arms, effortlessly strong, so your chest was flush with his and your thighs straddled his waist loosely. He was so deep like this, nestled inside your trembling cunt, and he didn’t move, just held you there, letting your walls adjust.

Then he started to thrust.

Slowly, at first, tiny rocks of his hips that made you whimper with each motion. The stretch was sharper now that he was moving. You moaned into his neck, nails raking down his back.

“You feel that?” he murmured, breath hot against your cheek.

“Yes,” you sobbed. “Feels so big—too big—”

“But you’re still taking it,” he said darkly. “You’re taking all of me.”

His pace picked up. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with your broken cries. Your body bounced slightly with each thrust, but you couldn’t even lift yourself anymore. He was holding all your weight, driving up into you again and again, stretching you raw.

You keened, walls fluttering desperately.

“Fuck,” he growled, biting down lightly on your shoulder. “Gonna come just from being used like this, aren’t you? My desperate, messy girl.”

You shattered.

Your body spasmed in his arms, and you screamed as your orgasm tore through you, overwhelming, all-consuming, a full-body quake that left your limbs numb and your head fuzzy. You didn’t even realize you were crying until he kissed the tears off your cheeks.

“That’s it,” he whispered, still fucking you through it, though his thrusts were sloppier now, more desperate. “That’s my girl.”

Your walls clenched hard again, and he let out a strangled groan, burying his face in your neck.

“Fuck, baby—I’m gonna—”

And then he was coming, cock twitching deep inside you as he groaned your name, hot and low and broken. You felt the warmth of it fill you, his hips grinding into yours as he emptied every last drop.

He didn’t move for a while, just held you there, wrapped around him, still trembling.

Eventually, he stroked your back and kissed your jaw. “You okay, lovie?”

You nodded weakly. “Mhm. Sore.”

He smiled into your skin. “Did I break my girl?”

“Almost,” you whispered, smirking.

#harry styles x reader #dom harry styles #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x original character #harry styles x you #harry styles x oc #harry styles fanfic rec #harry styles fandom #fanfic #fanfiction #dom!harry styles

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itsnesss · 2 days ago

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Please charles leclerc x american shy!reader? Shy!reader knows nothing about racing but Charles feels warm and happy that shy!reader watches him race or practicing racing. You can add this if you want so Every time he wins, they go to his car and have heavy car sex the back of the car seats just 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐢 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | charles leclerc × fem!reader

summary | you're shy, know nothing about racing but charles wins, and loves you for being there. you celebrate in the backseat

warnings | shy!reader, fluff, smut, explicit content, soft dominance, public/semi-public setting (car), emotional intimacy, after-race tension

word count | 1.2 k

🖇️ more cl16 🖇️ f1 masterlist

You never thought you’d end up sitting in a paddock, with earplugs in, watching a series of fast cars zoom past you with a roar you could barely endure. You didn’t understand a single thing happening on the track. The timings, the strategies, the tires… it was like another language. But there you were, in a world that wasn’t yours, simply because he was there.

Charles.

The boy who spoke with a sweet accent, who smiled as if the sun rose just for him, who had the warmest eyes you’d ever seen. The boy who, for some reason you still didn’t understand, had chosen you.

You, the shy one. The American lost in Monaco. The girl who hid behind her hair when someone looked too directly at her. The one who couldn’t hold a conversation with strangers without blushing. Sometimes you wondered what he saw in you. Other times, when he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered… you just believed it.

"Are you okay?" he’d asked you that morning, adjusting your Ferrari cap before entering the circuit.

"Yeah… just a little nervous," you admitted quietly, your fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

Charles leaned in and kissed your forehead, as if that could calm the thousands of butterflies fluttering in your stomach every time he was near.

"I’m going to win today," he said confidently. "And I’m doing it for you."

You didn’t know much about racing, but you knew those words meant something. Because Charles raced for millions, for a team, for his country. But that time, he said he was racing for you.

And he did.

You watched as his car crossed the line first, as the crowd erupted in cheers, as his team jumped up celebrating. You didn’t understand any of it, but your eyes filled with tears. Because you knew what it meant. You knew how happy he was in that moment.

And you knew what came next.

Charles took off his helmet, hair soaked in sweat, with the brightest smile you’d ever seen on him. He came straight to you, not caring about the cameras or the shouting.

"Let’s go," he whispered, taking your hand.

You knew where you were going. He didn’t say it, but you knew.

The garage was empty when you arrived. The adrenaline still buzzed under his skin as he opened the back door of his car and helped you in.

"I love it when you come watch me race," he murmured as he leaned over you.

"I don’t understand anything you do," you whispered.

"Doesn’t matter," he smiled. "What matters is that you’re here."

His voice grew softer, more intimate, as his hands started to trace your waist.

"Can I show you how much that means to me?"

And you just nodded.

You adjusted yourself in the back seat while he gently closed the door. Outside, the circuit’s noise still echoed faintly, but inside, the world seemed to fall silent. It was just the two of you, breathing the same air charged with emotion and desire.

Charles sat beside you, his eyes fixed on you like he was trying to memorize everything. His hand reached up to your cheek, caressing it with a tenderness that made you shiver.

"You’re so beautiful…" he whispered with that accent that always made your knees weak.

He kissed you slowly, patiently, like he had all the time in the world. Your fingers tangled in his shirt as he settled above you, guiding you gently to lie back. The leather seat creaked beneath the shared weight. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a warm, wet path that lit you up from the inside.

"Every time I win," he said between kisses, "I just want to do this. Come to you. Touch you. Be with you like this."

His confession made your cheeks burn, but you didn’t look away. You believed him. You saw it in his eyes, in the way he touched you with such reverence, like you were his greatest trophy.

Your clothes disappeared between whispers and soft caresses. So did his. He took his time, as if he didn’t want to rush, as if every second with you was sacred.

When he finally settled over you, both of you naked, your bodies so close there was almost no air between you, he caressed your face again and asked in a murmur:

"Are you okay?"

You nodded, breathless, your heart about to explode.

"Yeah… always, with you."

He took your hips in both hands and looked into your eyes. You didn’t look away. You felt his body join yours in a way so perfect, so natural, it felt like you’d always been this way. His hips moved with steady rhythm, each thrust deeper, more intense. The car creaked slightly with the motion, a nearly musical sound that mingled with his muffled groans and your breathless sighs.

The back seat seemed to shrink with every movement, as if it were wrapping you both in a more intimate embrace. His fingers traced your body gently, like he wanted to memorize every curve. The side window began to fog up with his ragged breathing, creating a private world just for you two.

"I love you so much," he gasped in your ear, his voice rough with effort and passion.

And you, with words lost in the flood of sensation, could only reply in a whisper that sounded almost like a prayer:

"I love you too… I do."

And there, surrounded by the scent of leather and the distant echo of the circuit, you found your own rhythm, your own shared victory in the secret of that stolen moment. A moment that was just yours, one that made you feel that even though the world kept turning outside, here, in this small space, everything was perfect.

When it was all over, when you had reached that peak together, Charles collapsed beside you, still panting, his chest rising and falling with effort. He turned toward you, took your hand, and kissed it with that old-fashioned charm you adored.

"That was incredible," he said with a playful smile. "As always."

You smiled, your face still flushed.

"I like how you celebrate your wins," you murmured, hiding your face in his shoulder.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, and whispered:

"As long as you’re my prize, it’ll always be perfect."

Charles Leclerc had won more than a race that afternoon. He had won your heart, again and again. And as you both stepped out of the car, hand in hand, you knew that every one of his victories would always be yours too.

"I love you," he said in your ear, just before losing control.

And you did too. You loved him with every fiber of your being, with every breath, with every shiver.

Later, when your bodies relaxed, Charles didn’t move. He just held you tight, like he never wanted to let you go.

"Thank you for coming today," he said softly.

"I don’t understand this world… but I do understand you," you replied, your fingers entwining with his.

He smiled against your temple.

"That’s all I need."

#🖇️ charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader

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jaylaxies · 9 hours ago

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hands down the best fucking fic i’ve ever read:

GOOD LORD THE WAY I WAS SCREAMING THROUGHOUT THE FIC mannn jeno is literally the dream man and lets start from the very top,,, yn judging all the people w their zodiac signs is literally so me,, jeno being the perfect man he is i swear thanks markie for bringing him in and OH LORD THAT SCENE WHERE YN ACTUALLY STARTS HATING ON JENO CAUSE HES GETTING PUSSY EACH NIGHT IM LITERALLY SO INTO IT,, sign me tf up thanks ill be next jeno please,, he’s a fuckboy but okay whatever he needs to do to get yn’s attention???

im all here for it fr fr and MAN yn working hard each day, so proud of her, we love sungchan and chenle in this household thanks guys,, yn living w hyuck and jaem is js insanity tbh (me next pls) ALSO JENO W DARK BLUE HAIR MY ABSOLUTE LOVE,,, yn when she said she saw a god, girl i feel ya jeno is literally no less than a greek god 🙂‍↕️ mark saying he hopes jeno’s dick falls off,, god I WAS LAUGHING hes so awkward it’s so cute mwah, then jeno being egoistic when he mentions how the girls can’t help but moan when he fucks them? so fucking hot ME NEXT 💳💥💳💥

then yn leaving and jeno losing his whole mind,, hm yes i love me some good angst fr THEN THE KISS OH MY GOD,, i felt something i cant even lie like you clearly know i was on the floor reading this fic rolling around sooo, yn and jeno fighting midway all that sex was js perfect like how am i horny but also laughing, i love humour fr NICS KEEPING THE HUMOUR ALIVE IN THE FANFICS THANK YOU 🙏 also i remember how yn squirted,, like yes girl i would too if i would be w jeno 🫡 the sex was insane too like i would forgive jeno if he gives me that dick ify yn my friend 😞🤞🏼 then i was on the ground crying again

OH AND HYUCK AND JAEM GOING ABOUT JENO FUCKING YN WITHOUT THEM HAEHHAHA i love those idiots so much man,, oh new coffee machine too how could i forget,, rich smart handsome tall sweet guy who’s good in the bed thanks i’ll take two of those please 🥰 wait also the scene w glasses,,, that was nasty god i loved it, and boom, they’re in love and yn gets jealous and wow i js realized how much i love this fic again

WAIT WHEN YN CALLED HIM PUPPY and then comes the angst the way i was so sad and i literally had tears in my eyes like im so attached to jeno and yn my babies 💔 both dumb fuckers CANT RHEY KISS AND CONFESS,, chenle is so right like mommy and daddy fighting 🤪 then the confession i WAS KICKING MY FUCKING FEET PLEASEEE god i love this fic 100/100 i would read again THANK YOU FOR THIS BLESSING I NEED THIS TO BE PUBLISHED I NEED THIS AS A BOOK ON MY SHELF YOU DONT UNDERSTAND ༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽ yeah ive cried a lot please everyone read this mwah 💗💗

room(hate) | L.JN (M) — part I

SYNOPSIS: all you wanted was sleep after your long shifts at the hospital. All you needed was sleep after your long shifts at the hospital, but even that was considered a luxury in these trying times. A luxury blatantly stolen by your roommate, Jeno Lee, who seemed to have an endless line of bodies to fuck preventing you from getting at least an hour shut eye. It was annoying. It was disrupting and you seriously hoped that Jeno's dick falls off one day.

PART I (you are here) | PART II

[AO3 link for easier reading! Though please do consider leaving your thoughts on here if you’d like! I’d appreciate it sm 🥹💖]

GENRE: roommate au, non-idol au, slice of life-ish, unrequited hate, roommates with benefits, domesticity, porn with plot, fluff, comedy, crack treated seriously.

WORD COUNT: 18.3K out of 50K

CONTENT WARNINGS: afab!reader, a reader-insert but no ‘Y/N’ is used, MC's a little mean (blame it on the sleep deprivation), Mark has an unnamed girlfriend, Jeno's kind of an asshole (not on purpose) at first, mild slut-shaming, banter as forms of flirting/foreplay [smut warnings underneath the cut. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

SMUT WARNINGS: Jeno has a big dick. fingering, squirting, doggy, unprotected sex (please practice safe-sex unlike these two), back-shots, aftercare.

NOTE: save me beatbox Jeno... s̸a̷v̷e̵ ̶̟̀m̸̞̐̇ë̴̠̟̤̆... everything is consensual btw! MC just looooves to deny and deny and deny because not only does Jeno put the 'D' in dick, he also puts the 'D' in denial <3 if i sound a little too in love it’s bc i am i love that man and i need him so bad 🧍🏻‍♀️

"You like your peace, but you love a little chaos." — Maze by Alina Baraz

"I want you to love like you hate me and fuck me so crazy, crazy." — Lava Lamp by Lolo Zouaï

“When you first get a taste and your heart starts to race.”

Mark thought it would be best to part ways after living together for four years.

He was leaving you.

“I’m not leaving you,” Mark corrected. “I’m moving in with my girlfriend.”

“That does not make it any better!”

Mark Lee was leaving you.

Not as a side-piece. Not as his ‘actual’ girlfriend (gross!), but leaving you to fend for yourself as his best friend. Which, fine, perhaps you could have started with that and excluded your dramaticism, but no one could really blame the immediate distress when you were about to lose Golden Boy Mark Lee—golden in many ways such as being the perfect roommate (minus his awful cooking. He was a great haggling partner for cheap deals, though)—to domesticity.

The thought of throwing all that away in exchange for less would send anyone into a downward spiral, if you could consider your crazed search for the next best thing as that; treating it as if you had to gamble a huge chunk of your life for the sake of retaining that same level of comfort and ease you got from Mark.

The only catch was, you had no fucking idea what it meant to gamble. Neither in the literal, nor in the figurative sense.

Which should have been telling considering that you had never, not even once, thought of exchanging a portion of your paycheck for chips you knew you’d immediately lose the second the lack of knowledge and experience showed on your losing set of cards. The closest comparable scenario you could think of was accompanying your grandmother to Mahjong Sundays with her friends, but even then, keeping up with the rules was rather difficult for a kid who only knew toys and the air time of her favorite cartoon.

Granny’s friends and Granny herself hadn’t bothered with explaining it to you either, being far too invested with their acrylic tiles. What you did learn, though, was how agitating the sounds were when they hit together. It just about evoked such a raw feeling of irritation a seven year old could go through. The messy aftermath of snot and tears did it for Granny that she made sure to ask if you’d let her drag you along.

In short: no gambling experience, yet going in full-on with that mindset equated a recipe for a shitty disaster just waiting to implode on itself.

Still, you liked to think that you had played your cards right during the whole selection process.

Details of each possible candidate were carefully written down—color-coded, bullet points, foot-notes. Some probable pet peeves highlighted to be raised for another round of deliberation—thanks to the extensive background checks you had done on your own accord, then later checked by Mark pushed by your unrelenting insistence. A second opinion would help narrow down your choices and who better to fill that role other than your own roommate?

Well, ex-roommate since—again—Mark had succumbed to the clutches of domestic bliss.

And it’s not like it couldn’t be seen from miles away. Everyone and their mothers knew Mark’s intentions right when he had brought home a shih tzu—a dog he and his girlfriend decided to co-parent despite living separately—to look after while Mark’s other half went away for a work trip. Really, anyone could tell that he was itching to start anew under the same roof with his girlfriend, but you didn't expect it to be that day to be so soon.

Who was going to play as your budget therapist now?

If there was anyone out there who knew how exhausting being in healthcare was, it was Mark. He understood the grievances that came with being a nurse and he was always there to lend an ear until you felt less burdened by the frustrations you had carried throughout a demanding shift. It was like an inborn skill he had, finding it in himself to simply know what to say and how to bring you back down.

No one could ever replace Mark. Your co-worker. Ex-roommate. Your best friend and now that he was off to start a new chapter in his life, in love as he could ever be, this called for new coping mechanisms, and a new roommate because there was no way in hell you were going to pay in full when you had other expenses already making a sizeable dent in your next paycheck. Making it bigger was not an option you would risk.

That was another reason why you insisted on the in-depth research amounting to almost a month’s worth of what was essentially the text-book definition of stalking.

From: [email protected] Subject the roommate games Attached: tributes_lol.doc

Don’t you think you’re being a little too nit-picky with all this? When did being a Leo become a deal breaker for you haha. Like people can’t change their birthdays and do I need to remind you that I’m a Leo? We’ve managed to not kill each other over the years. There’s also Jaemin? Dejun? Who are also Leos? Who are also our close friends? What is your problem with Leos? I thought Geminis were the worst?

To: [email protected] Subject: the roommate games Attached: tributes_lol_FINAL.doc

yes, and?? THREE Leos are enough i don’t need more! in my defense i made the worst mistake of becoming emotionally attached to you guys except Jaemin (and Hyuck by association) forced friendship onto me if u remember. he’s like a stray cat that wont leave me alone.

From: [email protected] Subject: the roommate games

This is literally just a blank document?

To: [email protected] Subject: the roommate games

Which means your selection was ASS!!!!!! i dont like ANY of them. One has a criminal record of insurance fraud and the other is weird as FUCK dude like who cradles and pets their fucking goldfish like its a cat?how bout this, do u personally know anyone in need of a place? LIKE someone at least 70% normal

Radio silence. Almost five hours of it and sitting in front of your laptop refreshing the shit out of your inbox as if that would do anything seemed like the worst possible choice of action when aiming for a productive afternoon.

By the time you heard from Mark again, golden light illuminated the living area that you had to squint, picking up your phone to read his text messages.

Mark (ER): I found someone Mark (ER): remember Jeno Lee?

You: no lol

Mark (ER): lol Mark (ER): tall, muscular and kind of a hermit?

You: ur not really giving me much to work with You: for all i know jaem legally changed his name to jeno for some reason

Mark (ER): he’s nicer than Jaemin

You: 😟 You: one of hyuck and jaem’s friends i assume?

Mark (ER): correct Mark (ER): he’s looking for a place Mark (ER): and he’s likely the 70% normal to your 30% normal 😁

You: wait what’s my 70% then?

Mark (ER): insane

You: die

“His lease is ending soon too.” Mark brought up a few days later in the middle helping him pack up for the great move, and it was nice out too. Not too cold, not too hot—really, just a nice day out with the perfect temperature accompanied by an occasional breeze, and yet Mark chose this day to pack up his life, enlisting your help when you could be doing something else that didn’t remind you of the impending loneliness that was about to come.

Even the outside wasn’t safe from the beginnings of grief.

The outside, a picturesque view of the city’s greens gradually bleeding into the many shades of fall framed by the large window, became the very subject of your mournful eyes.

Brooding became your default state, whereas Mark carried on plucking his vinyl records, a small collection of novelty trinkets from your joint travels and the handful of thick textbooks from nursing school he refused to throw out. I might need them at some point, y’know. He once told you after catching your eyebrows raised in question. Just because we graduated doesn’t mean we magically know everything and Mark was mostly right about these things.

You were going to miss Mark being mostly right about these things. Whether it would be over something trivial, or medical related, he just was. Always a step ahead of you in many cases.

Summer was at its peak when Mark had sat you down to tell you of his plans, the sun harsh with its light and adding on to the steady increase in temperature. He decided to push through once the summer heat dissipated completely in anticipation of a chilly fall, and just like how the seasons came and went, watching Mark stow away bits and pieces of himself into the boxes was an inevitable change you had to accept.

The loud scratch of the packaging tape made him wince as you sealed the box. “Who?”

“Jeno,” He repeated, reminding you of Donghyuck and Jaemin’s elusive, so-and-so friend as he took the tape from you with a pointed stare. “y’know, your new roomie?”

“I haven’t even said yes.”

“Trust me, you will.” Mark looked very sure of his claim, too. “Anyways—” he waved towards the air “—said something about his lease ending in a few weeks or so? He wanted somewhere close to work and our complex is like, real close to his office. A win on both sides?”

At least it wasn’t just you benefiting from the change.

“Right. How the hell am I gonna get to work without your car now?”

“That’s all you can say?”

“Hm, no,” you said, turning to face Mark with a straight face. “Do you think I could bribe Jeno into driving me to work?”

Mark huffed, “you’re stupid.”

“You’re stupid,” you cried, doing an awful job of keeping the waterworks from overflowing with frustrated swipes to your face. “This is so stupid—I’m stupid—God, you only live like thirty minutes away.”

Mark, ever the one to find his friends endearing even in the most undignified of conditions, let out a fond coo while gathering you up in his arms in a tight squeeze. “I’m gonna miss your morning arguments with the coffee machine too.”

The dig was met with a thwack on the arm.

Wherever Mark went, you followed. Only because he was literally your ride to and from work and how convenient it was that you both worked at the same private hospital. He was the type to simply offer a ride when you obviously needed it. For years, it had been like that.

Now, Mark stayed behind. Where he belonged, leaving him in the care of his girlfriend practically absorbing his oozing joy as they both coddled her—their dog, Ziggy, just outside of their apartment complex. The couple were completely lost in one another, inadvertently forgetting the piles of boxes in Mark’s car that had to be brought up sooner or later. They had all the time in the world anyway and it was understandable that Mark would want to simply bask in the moment with the one person that made every waking day worth it.

And leaving them behind to catch the next bus was a bittersweet pinch to your heart.

Mark was off to unfold the next chapter of his life, and here you were still, stuck in an endless cycle, wondering if you’d ever get to start on a new chapter of yours, too.

Jeno Lee hadn't exactly matched whom you pictured in your head.

When there was Jaemin and Donghyuck, it was kind of an unspoken rule that your one-way ticket to the nearest psychiatric ward was to be willingly associated with the likes of them.

Years of dealing with their joint efforts of embodying the human version of a headache, you kind of knew how to deal with whatever Jeno could potentially have in store for you. Jaemin and Donghyuck got along like a house on fire when the weather was fair, or when the planets aligned by some convoluted space related jargon Jisung would happily indulge any of you with. On any other day, they simply could not stand each other, wanting nothing to do with the other and arguing for the sake of arguing.

Still, they were the best of friends and having their differences was simply unavoidable, yet the many similarities they shared became a sturdy foundation for their friendship to last a long time.

Being unapologetically insane was one of them.

One’s involvement automatically entailed that they were just as deranged to some degree, and seeing the elusive piece to the trio you weren’t even aware was a trio, Jeno Lee—in the flesh—with a smile so sweet and unassuming gave you an earth-shattering wake-up call and reminder that you probably shouldn’t solely rely on baseless assumptions, especially when it came to people. Insane friends aside.

Other than that, you didn’t think a man with a face and body carefully sculpted by marble and brought to life by the gods themselves would be up to some milder version of fuckery like they were, now that Jeno thought to introduce himself.

The apartment felt staggeringly bigger than what you were used to with the absence of what made it belong to Mark too, though Jeno did a swell enough job to fill in the empty spaces with his presence alone.

It was brief. The meeting with the potential roommate, but nothing short of nerve-wracking when the man had the vibe of a quintessential supermodel top modeling agencies would fight tooth and nail for, decked in athleisure that had shown how he was built to all hell. A hundred-eighty-something centimeters of lean muscle cut with precision; clearly the fruit of Jeno’s possibly strict lifestyle, quietly taking everything in with a sense of wonder, yet simultaneously staying attentive as you ran your mouth about the apartment’s features and how sharing possible expenses would work.

You know, the vital stuff you’d want to know when it involved sharing your space with another person.

Which raised a few questions from Jeno himself. Little things along the lines of how often trash would be collected? If the apartment complex had a laundry room and if not, was there a laundromat by at least walking distance? How about a convenience store? A gym closer than his current one? These were answered fairly quickly, from which Jeno seemed pleased when his eyes turned into little half moons when he smiled, bringing your attention to the beauty mark under his right eye. God, was it adorable and frankly, you still couldn’t believe he chose to associate with two of the most annoying people you knew.

It was cute. Jeno Lee was cute, but among everything he had going on—your wandering eyes greatly appreciated the free viewing—his voice was what stuck out to you the most with how gentle he had spoken.

A voice deep and rumbly, yet warmth coated each syllable rattling the beating palm-sized thing in your chest the more the carefully articulated sentences passed through Jeno’s naturally pouted lips. He talked like he was trying to get into your good graces; like talking in any other way would risk disrupting the pleasant ambience set in stone before Jeno’s visit, which wasn’t at all necessary when Mark practically sang his praises.

And Jeno was all Mark talked about post-moving out.

Seriously, if he hadn’t chosen the medical path like you had, Mark Lee would have made a mean sales rep. You even felt the need to stop him and ask if he was still talking about a human being and not a brand new car right after he had his fill of listing down exactly why you should take Jeno in. How he essentially met all your admittedly nit-picky roommate requirements.

Mild-temperament. What was he, a dog? Jeno was neat and tidy. Claimed that he couldn't function if measly things such as a coaster was askew. Oh good. A neat freak just like me. There were also a few pages of referrals Mark had shown—yes, printed—from previous landlords and roommates because that was a thing, apparently. Squeaky clean criminal record (with a cute face like that, it didn’t come as a surprise). Worked in tech. In the same income bracket as you.

A Taurus man.

Which shouldn’t have given you that much of a start, really. You haven’t had much experience dealing with any Taurus people—a Taurus man, no less, so this would be decidedly new.

He is reliable, persistent, and down-to-earth, with a strong sense of duty and an admirable work ethic; the kind of guy you can always count on in both your personal and professional life. He is not one to make waves or cause drama; he just wants to do his job and go home at the end of the day. A Taurus man is all about practicality, stability, and security.

He wants nothing more than to provide the protection of his loved ones and create a harmonious home life.

At least that was what the article wrote (ignoring the in-your-face romantic tone. You were looking for a roommate, not a husband), sent by an astrology-fixated Donghyuck who seemed a little too eager providing his insight when asked for his opinion on Jeno and Taurus people in general being acquainted with you.

“A little stability won’t hurt. It’ll be good for you,” Donghyuck had mentioned over the phone after grilling you and your astrological sign, antagonizing you for no reason. It went mostly ignored though, preoccupied with reading a case you were assisting with Dr. Kim tomorrow. “and nothing screams stability more than Jeno’s credit score.”

An excellent credit score, from what Mark had relayed over cheap Chinese takeout and never would you have thought you’d cream your pants from that information, yet here you were. Financial stability was a viable trait you’d consider looking for in someone, so the decision was a no-brainer.

“Oh, before I go.”

You swallowed something down like a scream when Jeno whirled around to face you while digging into his gym bag.

“Mark probably gave you the rundown about me but—” a folded piece of paper was produced from within the depths of his bag, having you blinking owlishly when he wriggled it for you to take.

Jeno’s palm was warm under the gentle brush of your fingers as you plucked it from his own set, pointedly ignoring the zing that jolted through you.

Arial. Font size twelve. Single spaced and justified, and it wrote what Mark had been yapping about all this time prior to having Jeno in the apartment. His MBTI, a rundown of his personality with all his quirks and habits included (you snorted rather loudly when catching the italicized ‘mild-temperament’). There was his daily routine that heavily emphasized his recreation time such as cycling, working out, gaming and a small pool of sports. His likes and dislikes, and making you laugh the loudest was his disclaimer, something Jeno was rather proud of when you caught his pleased smile.

Disclaimer: Homebody, but will go out with you if you ask nicely. I get lost in gaming a lot so you might have to knock very loudly, or even call my phone. I get sulky very easily. Please be nice to me (.◜◡◝)

The emoticon was just the cherry on top. It looked so much like him—an absolutely precious detail that you had to do a side-by-side comparison, only to find him already gazing at you in wonder.

He cleared his throat, smiling and cheeks glowing with the faintest of color. “I figured you’d want a detailed resumé. He said you’d appreciate it.” Jeno joked with the smile widening into a soft grin that showcased his perfect white teeth, long fingers raking through his dark blue hair, both in a manner that screamed boyish and charming.

He was charming, which came as a belated, mortifying realization. Nano seconds was all it took to picture life sharing everything with a cute-faced gym rat and his equally cute grin you’d have to face every single waking day for fuck knows how long until you went insane.

It could either be the best or the worst thing to come out of this. You’re not sure yet.

Though it’s as if Jeno sensed your mental turmoil because he didn’t even give you a second to rethink, leaning in close enough that you got a whiff of his cologne as he poked a particular spot on the paper a few times, grin dimming into something gentler where his eyes gained this puppy-ish quality to them followed by a head tilt.

“My number is on here,” he stressed with one last poke to his number, ducking his head low enough to catch your gaze. “Call or text me if I make the cut, yeah?”

And as the door shut behind Jeno after flashing you one last dazzling smile, you slumped against the wall with a harsh sigh, mind racing and heart about to fly out of your rib cage with the paper still clutched tightly in between your fingers.

Jesus.

You: I think I just saw a god

Mark (ER): lol? 😆 Mark (ER): how was it with Jeno

You: i literally just said i think i saw a god

Approximately three hours later, you’ve earned yourself a Mark replacement, much to the namesake’s chagrin and stealing a piece of your chicken tenders as a form of retribution.

Approximately a week and half later, Jeno hung his degree and graduation portrait next to yours right above the TV, a detail both of you found hilarious and continued to giggle over even after clearing two greasy boxes of pizza for your first dinner together as roommates.

Approximately two months or so later, Jeno had unknowingly made an enemy for himself:

You.

II.

“When you go out your way and you don’t see a change.”

Frankly, being in this sticky situation could have been avoided entirely if you hadn’t let Mark’s flattery towards your roommate lure you into a false sense of security.

Frequent reassurance was an absolute necessity.

It was good to just know about things and your ex-roommate had made Jeno sound promising the handful of times your conversation would segue to him. It was your own hubris in Mark’s reassurance that had led you to this—that, and Mark had perfected the art of persuasion with words.

He’d always been good at spinning the narrative for his own advantage (Jeno’s in this case). Too good, in fact, where everything that flew past his mouth left no room for worry to fester when you’ve not yet lost anything of significance from trusting Mark and his judgment.

That was until you did. Blindsided by soft grins, half-moon eyes and a killer body you’d catch yourself quietly admiring whenever Jeno, oddly enough, took to working out in the living area.

So in conclusion, this was all Mark’s fault.

“This is all your fault.”

“Yo, what?” Mark laughed in that way where you just knew that he knew he fucked up. Forced, awkward, and a little terrified of what was about to come. “What’d I do?” He asked anyway, knowing he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep without finding out just what he did to get accused.

“You shouldn’t have pimped Jeno out to me—“

Mark rolled his eyes. “Not what I did—“

“Pimped Jeno out to me, ‘else I wouldn’t be suffering this much.”

“Hold on—you asked me to help look for a roommate,” he started, voice pitching up in disbelief. “And I spent days helping you sort out every important detail—even the nit-picky ones—for you! Only to ask for someone who wasn’t even listed on the fuckin’ doc. And in the end, you said yes!"

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah. Clearly a mistake on my part."

As he ranted, Mark’s gestures grew more and more frantic in defense of himself, only for his arms to fall back to his sides with a huff when you barely blinked, unimpressed, and then folding them above his chest with a pout before mumbling, “how’d you even find out about the criminal record and the weird fish owner anyway?”

You graced him with a lazy shrug. “Fascinating what you can achieve with technology.”

He stilled, squinting in thought before letting out a resigned sigh. “Donghyuck.”

“Duh? The closest I got to hacking was looking for a cracked Sims 2 copy.” You soon got grounded by Dad when you had infected the family computer with malware, sadly. “Hyuck’s surprisingly useful when wants to be.”

Or greedy. Ten dollars were raised once you goaded Donghyuck into sussing out any deal-breakers with a snide comment or two slipping out about him not being able to find anything that would make you second guess any of the potential roommates. Naturally, Donghyuck took your provocation rather seriously, treating it as the be-all and end-all to prove a point.

Ten minutes later, he was ten dollars richer. Crazy what people would do for money.

“Conflict of interest!” you raised again, loudly, making Mark flinch. “I barely get six hours of sleep now because of your emotional ties with my sworn enemy.”

Sure there were many benefits of being approachable, but you were somewhat of a negative Nancy and all you could think of was how Mark’s painstaking kindness could potentially get taken advantage of by some lurking asshole out there.

Which was exactly what had happened. With you as collateral.

“Uh, not gonna lie, but I think you’re being a little dramatic,” he sniffed, biting roughly into the sandwich you graciously made for him. Biting the hands that fed him, how lovely.

“I’m being dramatic?” you said, incredulous, and then flicked his forehead just to hear him cry out in pain. “Okay—try having Jeno’s headboard slamming against the wall as your lullaby, which—surprise, surprise—won’t help you sleep at all!”

You paused to regulate your breathing because you were getting a little too heated and you didn’t want to traumatize Mark even more by angrily exploding into pieces. Even as a nurse and though rare, he still got a little squeamish.

“I’m just saying, you’d think he’d have some shame and invest in those rubber bumpers, but no—he just had to make sure I know he’s getting way more sex than me.”

And he did. Have way more sex than you, that is, which was kind of insane now that you’ve thought about it. Ego-bruising too when the sounds you desperately tried to drown out still breached through a pair of neon green earplugs stuck deep as they could go into your ear holes. His questionable refractory period kept you up on most nights he had girls over, wondering how short it was that he’s able to bounce back and keep you up until the witching hour with the awful remix of moans, groans, screams and whatever noises one could make during sex. Why was it always the innocent looking ones the freakiest? Why must you suffer through all this?

You made a low noise in your throat, almost like a growl just thinking about what you've gone through the last few weeks. Fucking asshole.

Mark’s eyes widened. Whether it was from your admission, or the almost inhuman sound you made, the simmering rage wasn’t that hard to miss. The moment Mark walked into the apartment, he could visibly tell how wound up you were from your pinched expression while you waited for the bread to toast.

He’s been here for almost two hours and you have yet to relax. Mark’s current concern was what if your face gets permanently stuck scowling like that?

“Huh,” he breathed out, “didn’t know Jeno got bitches that often.”

“Mark.”

Mark immediately backtracked at the edge to your voice. “Uh, I mean—“ he cleared his throat, “fuck Jeno. I hope his dick, like, falls off.”

The beseeching shine of his eyes for your approval would have been something to laugh at if it weren’t for the anger taking full reign of the receptors responsible for regulating your emotions, not letting it process anything but the bottled up frustration from weeks of enduring the extra noises accompanying most of your nights.

So much for creating a harmonious home life with a Taurus man. Fuck that article, fuck whoever wrote it, and fuck Jeno Lee in particular. Seriously.

“You’re more pissed off than usual.”

“Yeah? Hadn’t noticed,” you said dryly.

“Dude, c’mon. Y’know what I mean,” Mark giggled, reaching out to pinch your cheek. You swat his hand away with a whine when he tried to go for the other. “Sorry, sorry—just—I feel like he did more if you—“ he made a vague gesture to the air in front of you “—are this upset.”

“I think keeping me up with the horrendously loud fucking takes the cake.”

“I dunno. You lost your fuckin’ marbles when I ate your food that one time.” He shuddered, knowing fully well how touchy you were with the prepped meals you slaved for hours every Saturday. “Was that what he did? That’s the one thing I told him not to do.”

Being this far into your career, cooking was almost like a chore since you barely had any opportunities to cook actual at-home-meals that required significant amounts of time and patience. You could even say that it was more appropriate to call it a luxury almost as most of your time was dedicated to the hospital—to your patients whose lives were also in your hands, and pre-made food was the only solution to fit three-meals-a-day into your demanding schedule.

The long-lasting effects of when he, out of sheer desperation, snatched your jar of banana chia pudding still lingered when he always made it a point to ask if he could have one bite, or a quick sip after the rather traumatizing verbal lashing you’ve subjected him to.

“No. Jeno knows not to do that at least.”

Like Mark, it’s the one thing you had stressed right when you had Jeno settle in. Not that he minded, sans the obligatory head tilt when he didn’t quite get it until your further explanation. He even offered his help with the meal-prep which kind of—for a fleeting moment—made you feel a little guilty thinking back to the conversation (puppy eyes, full lips jutted out into a thoughtful pout. More puppy eyes and Jeno’s weird, trademarked noises of confusion) until you were violently reminded of his fuckery.

Perhaps the whole golden retriever-like temperament and attentiveness balanced out his newly discovered predilection for whoring himself out.

Mark heaved a heavy sigh as if he was the one with a 24/7 sex noise problem. “Well, what could be worse than Jeno banging some random chick?”

You gave him a grim smile.

See, the thing was, it hadn’t always been like this.

You were no stranger to peace as you did get a generous taste of it with Jeno thrown into the mix. A peaceful coexistence between a surgical nurse and some tech guy.

A routine had been built around having different work hours where you were mostly gone from morning to evening when you weren’t on-call, while Jeno was, more often than not, stationary since he had the choice to either work from home on his elaborate PC set-up, or in the office he’d drive to when needed.

It was relatively normal. Jeno stayed true to the being neat claim and he kept to himself most of the time. He did his set of chores listed on the mini whiteboard stuck to the fridge and proved himself to be quite the efficient handyman also; assembling furniture with ease as well as fixing up superficial problems in the apartment. He was a decent cook too and Jeno generally acted what one would expect from a proper roommate who was here to make a home with you.

It had been normal. It had been peaceful, until you realized you were housing a potential sex fiend. What made this whole thing exponentially worse, though, was that the last girl he had brought home wasn't just some random chick that had fallen victim to Jeno’s charms.

It was Jimin Yu, your work best friend and the only other person who knew of your sleeping problem caused by the root of said problem whom you were starting to believe was sent to you as a divine punishment for fuck knows what. Which was kind of funny to think about considering Mark, his faith and him technically being the catalyst of it all, but you digressed. This was literally a slow-burn epidemic happening in real life, and yet no one else seemed to be alarmed by it.

Jimin Yu. Another promising young woman lost to some fucking loser (see: Jeno). Again.

How you came to find out that it was your best friend getting her back blown out six ways to fucking Sunday right before a full day of two major operations waiting for you to scrub and assist in was from pure accidental intuition alone.

And anger.

Especially anger.

There was a self-imposed rule you strictly followed: do not leave your room until you were sure the chosen girl from Jeno’s seemingly never-ending roster left. Saving both you and the poor girl from the embarrassment was the least you could do when you yourself would rather avoid any risks of running into anyone in someone else’s home right after a hook-up.

And, well, there was a reason why the saying ‘rules are meant to be broken’ was popularized, because you broke that one simple rule that had supposedly kept your remaining sanity intact.

Two hours left before your shift started and you were more husk than person from the lack of sleep. All rationale completely consumed by anger, an ever-present emotion that seemed to be the only thing that kept you going—and consequently, what had led you to shoot out of bed once the telltale sounds of Jeno’s door clicking open, followed by the hurried footsteps reached your ears.

You skidded to a stop, stunned.

“You motherfucker.”

This was the ultimate act of betrayal.

“It’s—It’s not what it looks like!” Was Jimin’s immediate defense right when the thunderous twist to your face grew more and more pronounced with each stomp of your feet. Yet her words didn’t exactly help her case when:

There were obvious splashes of reds, blues and purples marking her slender neck.

Her hair was a downright mess, and you knew Jimin harbored some sort of complex for her long luscious locks, so this was new—her not bothering to comb it out, clearly in a rush to leave.

There was a slight limp in her step which just said everything.

And lastly, you caught Jeno sneaking Jimin out of his room and out of the fucking apartment, clearly expecting to not run into you.

“Ah-ah. No,” you interrupted before she could even start groveling. “I’ll deal with you later. Get out.”

Jimin’s shoulders sagged, big wet eyes staring into your very soul and it took you a Herculean amount of strength to keep your gaze ahead and not break under her stare; to keep your gaze set on the main perpetrator who, unlike Jimin, appeared rather contrary to her apparent distress.

Jeno stood underneath the awning in only—goodness—only a pair of gym shorts where you could clearly make out a hefty looking dick-print, completely at ease and infuriatingly handsome in spite of the disheveled state he was in; matching bruises bloomed on his milky skin, scratches littered his arms, shoulders and back and his hair was left as an artful mess atop his head.

You wanted to scream.

This was all Jeno’s fault. Not even the hurt pinching Jimin’s normally serene features was enough to lessen the tension wounding up your entire body. Not when you were already neck-deep in your own pool of unfiltered rage to even consider comforting Jimin’s momentary lapse in judgment and decision to have earth-shatteringly loud sex with your mortal enemy that the whole damn apartment complex might as well have heard.

(“I’m surprised Jimin isn’t getting as much heat since she slept with your ‘problem’. On purpose.”

You shrugged. “Men are the root of all evil.”

“Fair enough,” Mark mumbled and took a gargantuan bite of the next sandwich assembled for him. It was really a mystery how he settled down before you).

And—look, you really couldn’t care less if Jeno slept around. It was his life and he had free reign over his own body, and let’s face it, there was no way he didn’t get an obscene amount of matches on Tinder when he embodied a walking wet dream.

Jeno was far from being in your good graces at this current moment, but staying blind to the truth would only get you so far when Jeno had the physical advantages to attest to that, and the same could be said for Jimin. She could hook-up with whoever she pleased—just as easily too. Hell, you’d sleep with her too if you were a little bit interested in her—because who were you to disprove her choices? All of you were adults here, but what the main issue here was Jimin knew you had one-sided beef with your abnormally attractive roommate that fucks too loud no matter how many times you reminded him to try and keep it down, and yet she still pushed on and contributed to the recurring problem.

Truer words had never been said until Mark. You really did hope Jeno’s dick shrivels up and falls off.

Now, preferably.

Right when the door had closed behind Jimin with a soft click (after dragging her feet and sending pleading looks over her shoulder like a sad wet cat) did all the pent-up anger come out in a mess of heated words and frantic gestures.

“What the fuck.”

Each breath you took had been deep and harsh. Your face was bordering on hot to the touch from the sheer amount of rage coursing through your veins and the arduous task of resisting the urge to reach out and subject permanent damage physically, mentally and emotionally by how tightly you had clenched your fists. You could already imagine it, hands stretching towards Jeno’s neck and wringing it like a wet hand towel until it ripped in your hands—

Your roommate reacted then, as if just realizing that this wasn’t you doing a bit. It made you think of how likely it could be that Jeno got away with many things simply for being the very few that had pretty privilege as a crutch to fall onto. As for you, it would be nice to have an actual metal crutch within arm’s reach to hit him with.

He was pretty to look at, sure, but not privileged enough to keep your eye from twitching in irritation when Jeno looked the least bothered by your display, long eyelashes fluttering with each of his confused and owlish blinking.

“What?” Jeno, the village idiot, asked with imploring eyes.

“What? What do you mean ‘what’? are you—“ you cut yourself off with an incredulous, borderline manic laugh at his testosterone-filled audacity. “Are you so desperate for sex that you had to go for Jimin?”

It’s not like he wasn’t allowed to bring his own friends over since you shared the same rotation of friends and acquaintances, but really, Jimin?

“I didn’t know Jimin was off-limits. You never mentioned it.” Jeno blinked slowly with a sheepish smile. “I’ll keep that in mind next time?”

“Are you fucking—were you even listening to me? Not just now, but before too. I told you to keep it down! Many many times! I need to sleep, Jeno!”

He huffed a laugh. “Technically, it’s not really my fault if they can’t keep it down, y’know?”

You could only stare in disbelief, mouth ajar at the fact that he’s able to act proud during an argument he was likely to lose. Like dicking down someone so loud that it became a public disturbance was some kind of achievement with the way Jeno puffs out his very naked chest in the most subtlest of ways.

He wasn’t finished talking, taking your silence as a prompt to continue with a cloying curl of his mouth. “I could show you why, if you want.”

“Excuse me?”

If Jeno knew what was good for him, he would stop running his mouth right this very second. Though over time, you started to pick up on the very unfortunate fact that he lacked tact at times, and what he had let slip through his lips next proved as much.

“I’m saying,” he dragged out, like he was expecting you to catch on. “Sex reduces stress, right? The endorphin and oxytocin rush—I’ll assume you already knew that, being a nurse and all. Woman in STEM,” Jeno sang a little jingle, the smile widening into a grin that was a touch too suggestive for your liking. “I can see that you’re pent up, and I think fucking it out of you—fucking the uptightness out of you would do both of us good. A win-win situation.”

Whatever was left of the rose-tinted image of the man who had first walked into the apartment donning the sweetest eye-smile you had ever laid eyes on was wiped just like that. His grin that was meant to convey light-hearted teasing became the very image of mockery.

If you weren’t as furious then, you were now.

“Is that how you see me? Just another number to your body count?”

It would have been funny, watching Jeno’s features twist from surprise to regret at the speed of light almost, but anything he did beyond this point just added to the stockpiled annoyance ready to be spit up again the next time Jeno thought to push his luck. So no, this wasn’t hilarious in the slightest.

“I didn’t say that—”

“You implied it.”

“That’s—I was joking!”

You scoffed, “that’s not surprising. Do you think my job’s a ‘joke’ too?”

This was exhausting. You had already lost a significant amount of sleep you needed to get through work that would start in two hours—well, less now that you’ve taken the time to completely go off the rails until some semblance of remorse showed on Jeno’s person. As satisfying as it was to witness that happen in real-time, asking some time off of work just to process The Confrontation™ was a no-no, given how important your presence was in the OR and it just so happened that you couldn’t stand being in the same room as him.

He should’ve added ‘insatiable horndog’ to his disclaimer.

Jeno made it clear that he had nothing else to follow up on, doing a horrible impression of a fish out of water that you had taken as your cue to leave.

And for the first time in forever, you couldn’t wait to breathe in the antiseptic smell of the hospital.

Being this bothered by your cold indifference was not at all on Jeno’s bingo card.

Jeno was within your visage when you came through the door, yet you paid him no mind as you bee-lined towards your bedroom, like he didn’t exist to you. And, okay, maybe he did deserve that—no, he for sure deserved that after hours of reflecting. He wasn’t sure if you’d appreciate his excuse of not really being aware that the walls were thinner than he had thought.

Jeno winced at the mini play-by-play in his head.

You definitely wouldn’t.

The clock droned on and on with its never-ending ticking. Just a quarter past eight in the evening, Jeno checked, and his heart lurched to his throat, sitting up straighter from his perch at the island counter when you finally emerged from your room. Have you forgiven him? Did this mean you were on talking terms again? Because if he had to be honest, being ignored was a lot worse than you threatening to bite his head off. At least then you were technically talking to him still and not trying to erase his existence with sheer willpower alone.

All hope of making things right, however, was shot down the moment Jeno took a quick look at your change of clothes and the large duffle bag slung over your shoulder.

Panic welled in his chest, causing him to blurt out a garbled, “where are you going?” as you headed straight for the front door.

“Anywhere but here.”

Although there was no heat behind your words from the absence of the anger you had toted around this morning, being hit by your impassive stare has him biting back the haha nice Harry Potter reference. The poorly-timed joke from this morning was the final nail in the coffin and making another one now was a sure-fire way of getting buried six feet under. Alive.

Shortly after, the door closed behind you with a soft click. Much like how Jimin left when you had sent her out, leaving Jeno alone with the deafening silence as his only companion, the pit in his stomach growing when he peeled his gaze from the paneled door to fall onto the pair of steaming cups of coffee.

Mornings for Jeno started with you standing in front of the coffee machine, half-asleep and grumbling threats to the inanimate thing. He’d grown accustomed to the sight of your sleep-ruffled state that it was obvious you had quite the fixation on coffee. At least one cup a day, three at most, you had said with a bashful smile when he caught you pouring your third cup.

Coffee was a necessity in this household. Jeno knew that, knew how you liked to drink yours and he thought making you a cup exactly how you’d like it could melt away the thick walls you had built. A peace offering, or what was supposed to be a peace offering.

Two cups sat on the quartz countertop. One almost empty while the other remained untouched even as Jeno retired for the night.

Jeno walked into an empty kitchen the morning after.

A kitchen devoid of your sleepy form that would be threatening the coffee machine to spit out the liquid bitterness faster, or else. The silence was just as deafening and the cup—your cup—was where he left it the night before in hopes of you coming back home.

You didn’t.

Fuck.

III.

“Prove me wrong by doing it right.”

“And you stayed where? For two weeks?”

“Jaem and Hyuck’s.”

Mark grimaced. “Willingly?”

You gave him a pointed look.

He raised his hands in defense. “I’m just sayin’ you have better options—like Sungchan?” Your face softened, offering a lazy shrug. “Me?”

You wrinkled your nose at the thought. “Yeah, no.”

While you had made plenty of jokes that would last a lifetime consisting of moving in with Mark and ‘the love of his life’, ranging from them becoming your second set of parents, to you being Just There with your best friend married and with kids, the appeal of third wheeling hadn’t increased in the slightest.

“I’ve had enough moaning and groaning haunting my dreams, thanks.” You snorted at the scandalized look on Mark’s face. “and I wouldn’t want to impose on Sungchan and Chenle. Thing One and Thing Two weren’t too bad.”

Although the stay had been surprisingly pleasant, with all things considered, they did poke fun at the situation at first because—duh, men. Regardless, their combined hospitality staved off the possibility of a psychotic break triggered by Jeno’s fuck-up. It would have been better if their third bedroom hadn’t been made into Marie Kondo’s personal nightmare, but the vomit green couch had been a comfortable makeshift bed. Who knew you’d end up loving the product of Jaemin’s horrendous tastes?

Jeno stayed as elusive as ever, too. You came home when you could, only to replenish your clothing and other necessities and much to your relief, you hadn’t run into him yet. Not at the apartment, not at the guys’ place (shockingly) and there was a brief moment where you thought your roommate might turn up at the hospital, what with the onslaught of texts you received, most of them apologizing and begging for you to come home, there was a time where you dreaded going to work in light of the possibility.

(“You’d think Jeno was your boyfriend with the way he’s blowing up your phone,” Donghyuck hollered from the kitchen, in the middle of cooking dinner for everyone. “He’s getting desperate with each text, babe. Even I’m feeling a little sorry for the guy.”

You looked up from the puzzle you were working on the floor with Jaemin to stare at Donghyuck, then to the space where you remembered leaving your phone on its own and now just noticing its disappearance. “How’d you get my phone? How’d you guess my passcode?”

“Zero-zero-zero-zero wasn’t that hard to guess,” Jaemin mumbled. “You’ve always been simpleminded about these things—which reminds me—you still use the same Netflix account since college, right?”).

Jeno was a no-show, thankfully. Causing a scene at work, of all places, would be way beneath you no matter how much he pissed you off.

Still, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t talk your shit from time to time.

“They’re probably faking it,” you concluded with a scoff and then quickly backtracked. “No. I know they’re faking it and it doesn’t even matter if Jeno’s tall, muscular, handsome, capable—” Mark’s eyebrows rose higher and higher, disappearing beneath his bangs as you continued on with your tangent.

“Precious eye smile—definitely a manipulation tactic… it worked on me.”

That one, you mumbled mostly to yourself, but it was audible enough to earn a short laugh from Mark which quickly snapped you out of whatever the hell that was, and then scowled when your ex-roommate, the catalyst for your suffering, tried to keep his face straight. He was doing a terrible job.

Clearing your throat—far too many times than necessary—you ignored the warmth that bloomed on the apples of your cheeks along with Mark’s insufferably knowing smirk. “My point is, there’s no way he’d be good at sex too. Like, you’re telling me Jeno made all those girls cum? Fat fucking chance. I’m sure there’s, like, a statistic disproving that.”

You didn’t even want to think what Jimin went through, especially when you’ve gotten a glimpse of what monster was begging to be freed from Jeno’s gym shorts. But like clockwork, Mark had to ruin that brief fantasy of you being right about Jeno’s possibly (hopefully) weak stroke game.

“Eh, I’d have to disagree on that one.”

How did he even know that?

“How do you even know that?” You groaned, “I’m distressed enough as it is, Mark, please be serious.”

“I am serious! I literally have the facts to back it up!”

“And what, I’m supposed to believe you?” All you were given was a stare, an arch of an eyebrow just begging to be plucked and shaped, and nothing else. “Fine, what are these facts based on?”

“Testimonies. Plenty of them.”

Your features twisted into that of disgust. “Were you there? In the corner watching him get his dick wet? Like some pervert?”

Mark appeared as though he regretted the decision of coming here. You didn’t want to be here in the first place, so it’s only fair that none of you were having a good time. Might as well make Mark your personal verbal punching bag while you were at it.

“Jesus,” he dragged a hand down his face. The perfect image of exasperation. “The mouth on you sometimes.”

“Sorry,” you quipped, not sorry at all.

This time, Mark let out a groan much similar to yours, obviously not liking where the direction of the already bizarre conversation was heading. This upcoming headache (see: you) was rightfully deserved though since Mark did lend a hand in forcing you into a situation so embarrassing that you’d take instant death over being an unwilling voyeur to Jeno’s many many late night sexcapades.

“Okay, okay, okay—” Mark began as if the rapid-fire speech wasn’t enough to get your attention, or the fact that it was just the two of you hanging out in the kitchen. “You know how my girl hosts girls’ night every two weeks?”

“How could I forget?” you chuckled. “I missed the one two nights ago and your girlfriend’s really good at guilt-tripping.”

“Yeah,” he trailed off with a tender smile. “yeah—uh, she wanted everyone to be there.” Your own smile was knowing, a smidge teasing even and it was enough for Mark’s cheeks to pinken. “Anyways! One of the girls was painting my nails, right?” He wiggled his fingers, showing his mustard yellow painted fingernails with daisy decals, being the girls’ go-to mannequin every girls’ night. “Aeri brought up hooking up with Jeno a few times from like, a year ago, then it became this whole thing of the girls sharing their own experiences—and wow, you girls are just as gross with the details, like, for real—turns out, they all slept with him at some point! Crazy, right?”

“Even your girlfriend?”

Mark smiled, sheepish. Quite the contrast to your horrified expression. “They shared a gen-ed class. College sophomore year. She went to his frat’s party, they hooked up once and never again.”

“Please tell me the girls hated it at least.”

Mark’s jaw closed with a click, lips pressing into a thin line. “Y’know, I don’t think the word ‘hate’ was like, ever thrown around, honestly.”

Good lord—okay, so Jeno was kind of a slut then. A slut that had infiltrated your friend group (and fucked Mark’s girlfriend!) and left them unanimously agreeing that he earned his merit as an absolute god in bed. Go figure. This might as well be some divine force’s way of saying ‘go fuck yourself!’

“So I just have to live with it, is what you’re saying.”

“I mean…” His face twisted into an expression you couldn’t put your finger on and the nonsensical gesticulation didn’t provide any concrete context needed. Either way, you just knew you wouldn’t like whatever he says next. “If it bothers you that much, just find a new place. You’ve been here long enough.”

“In this economy?” you exclaimed. “That’s like asking me to kill myself!”

Not to mention drastic when you had already paid half of this month’s rent along with the other expenses—as did Jeno—and you really couldn’t afford splurging extra to get away from one minor—major inconvenience. Plus, you were pretty attached to the place.

Deciding on that was kind of a tempting solution, however. You had forgotten what it was like living alone after you and Mark thought to rent a place together post-graduation since you both agreed it was cost-effective, but if Jeno was smart enough to repent for his sins of stealing (sleep) from thy neighbor (roommate), you wouldn’t leave him to fend for himself.

“I should have stayed back and talked to Hyuck about this,” you droned, narrowing your eyes when all Mark did was snort at both your joke and your bias for Thing Number Two (Donghyuck). “He would at least agree that Jeno’s dick’s bigger than his brain.”

Which was farthest from the truth, actually.

Painful as it was to admit, the certificate of Jeno graduating from a joint program of Computer Science and Cyber Security as Magna Cum Laude was tangible proof that Jeno Lee’s brain was wired properly to some extent that It made your own certificate of graduating Cum Laude from your nursing program a bit lackluster. It was an inside joke you both shared; where your degrees and graduation portraits weren’t all that useless as they had been perfect for decoration.

All that’s left now was a sour reminder that Jeno got more bitches than you did every time you glanced up at the immortalized version of him. Looming above the flat screen TV with the effortless sweep of his hair and the sweet, canned smile he flashed at the camera.

While you spent hours to at least make it seem like you hadn’t been trampled on from the harrowing events of final exams, back-to-back practicals and soul-sucking internships, Jeno hardly looked like he had put in any effort—like an in-the-making supermodel taking his head-shots. His hair was in its natural shade of black, longer too with a subtle mullet going. Jeno looked younger, untouched by the trials and tribulations adult life granted anyone breaching that point and less like the sex fiend you would hiss at as a knee-jerk reaction.

The Jeno now fitted the latter description to a tee. This rugged look he’s got going on for him screamed trouble. He embodied what sex on legs meant as well as being the guy a god-fearing father would tell you to stay away from.

Having said all that, you still thought that even hot people deserved to be humbled. Ever the one to talk shit about someone that had wronged you behind their back yourself, and Donghyuck was always a great shit-talking partner.

“Nice to know you still don’t listen to me. It’s like I’ve never moved out at all.”

“Maybe if you gave actual sound advice, I would.”

“Advice,” Mark parroted, following that up with a short laugh of disbelief. “you want advice? Okay, here’s one—avoiding Jeno won’t put a stop to this. Maybe all of this—whatever this is—could be resolved if you would just, oh, I don’t know, talk to him? Talk like proper adults would? Lay some ground rules or some shit, I don’t know.”

“I already did that! Many times, if you recall what we just talked about, and look where it got me.”

Temporarily living off of the vomit green couch in exchange for better quality of sleep? Yeah, this was definitely a new low for you.

“Would you bail me out if I was charged for man-slaughter? I’ll pay you back… in a few years.”

“No,” was Mark’s immediate answer. “I’m being serious, babe. Just… talk it out, yeah? Jeno’s worried, texting me and all.”

Huh. Never would you have thought that ‘Jeno’ and ‘worried’ could be mentioned in the same sentence when you sampled just how much Jeno couldn’t give less of a fuck towards the deep lines you had repeatedly drawn, crossing it multiple times, but you supposed there’s always a first time for everything; like how this was a first for you not putting blind faith into Mark’s words.

“I find that hard to believe,” you groused.

Mark’s whole face then twisted into the very expression he’d wear when he’s about to deliver a mean lecture. Unfortunately for you, you had never been an exception to them and you were his best friend! It defeated the whole purpose of the label and the privileges that came with it and as you braced yourself for his god-given right of bitching at you, the sound of the keypad’s beeping made both of you freeze, the fight visible on Mark’s person gone once the automatic lock clicked in place as your faces blenched.

Not one of you dared to move as you listened to Jeno skulking around the foyer with bated breaths.

You could hear a pin drop when your roommate’s shuffling came to an abrupt stop. Then came the sharp gasp, the heavy rushed footsteps and there Jeno was in all his muscled glory; again, in athleisure and panting as if he ran a marathon just to see if his hunch was right.

“Talk to him,” Mark gritted before his face brightened with a capitalistic grin that would usually fool almost everyone and whirled around to greet Jeno with a dialed up amount of enthusiasm. “Hey, buddy! What’s up?”

Jeno was nonplussed by this, his gaze still stuck on you which granted a sinking feeling in your stomach when he didn’t do anything else. No smile, no nothing and Mark didn’t seem to pick up on the growing tension. That, or he simply just chose not to acknowledge it, making nice out of self-preservation.

“You look great!” It was kind of painful watching Mark acting as the buffer, yet unknowingly stall Jeno and the impending doom of talking to him. “Strong! You look strong—” as Mark said this, he gave Jeno’s bicep a friendly slap, only for him to reel it back almost a half second later with wide eyes. “Uh, well! I was just leaving—girlfriend’s looking for me so… bye!”

And there he went, leaving you to fend for yourself, but not before giving you a pointed look over Jeno’s shoulder that clearly said ‘fix this, or else’.

Or else, you huffed, Mark Lee couldn’t even hurt a fly—

“You’re home,” Jeno said, tone soft as ever despite the clear ire that was starting to bubble up to the surface from the way you caught his jaw clench. That didn’t stop your pettiness from taking over, however, making a sour face as you turned away from him to grab your favorite mug out of the cupboard.

“What an amazing observation,” you said with the same amount of excitement a school teacher would have if they were to be condescending. “Would you like a gold star?”

“I was worried,” and Jeno, ever the one to not rise to the bait shamelessly dangling right in front of his face, kept his voice even. “You left my texts on read. You didn’t return any of my calls.”

“Wow! It’s almost like I don’t want to talk to you,” you snapped, “‘worried’ my ass. You know damn well I left because of you, so you don’t get to act like I’m in the wrong when—“

Jeno cuts you off with a stern call of your name, like he’s had enough. Of what, exactly? As far as you knew, you were simply telling him the truth of the matter: he drove you away because one stubborn part of Jeno Lee refused to listen and admit that he was in the wrong.

Slowly, you twisted your neck to hit Jeno with the most chilling look known to man-kind as the familiar sensation of anger caused each of your muscles to stiffen. The one thing that kept you from tackling him to the ground was the abashed furrow of Jeno’s eyebrows and his downturned lips. He genuinely looked guilty. As guilty as a man could be from getting as much action as a blunt getting passed around a frat-party, but sadly for him, peace was never an option.

He could cry for forgiveness all he wanted and you’d only think of ways to make him cry even harder.

“Look,” Jeno began, eyes fluttering closed and breathing out a heavy sigh. “I just don’t understand why you had to go this far? Avoiding me for two weeks straight—I was worried,” he reiterated, eyes opening just for them to narrow accusingly. “I didn’t know where you were. Mark refused to tell me since ‘it wasn’t his business’—“ and honestly, if this were any other situation, you would have laughed at Jeno’s piss-poor imitation of Mark and the exaggerated air quotes. “—and I had to find out from Donghyuck, of all people, that you were staying with them!”

This was a first. Jeno was never one to completely lose his cool. Always the milder one between you both who knew how to keep his temper in check. Jeno was calm in every sense of the word, with placid smiles and solemn nods—composed even in the most dire of situations where tensions were high. A stark contrast to how you weren’t afraid of baring your teeth to let people know how you felt, swinging your emotions around as if they were a weapon.

Clearly, the Jeno that stood in front of you bore none of that. He was visibly upset—by what could be considered as ghosting him for two weeks straight, which would have been longer if Jeno had come later in the evening. You were starting to believe that the universe simply hated you to the point of cutting the streak.

You stayed quiet, letting your scowl do all the talking.

Jeno pinched his nose bridge. “I’m sorry I slept with Jimin, alright? It’ll never happen again if that’s what you want.”

“Oh my God,” you exclaimed as you shut the cupboard harsher than intended, moving to head for the coffee machine. He still didn’t get it and you’ll need the extra caffeine in your system for this.

“This is not about you sleeping with Jimin! This is about you crossing lines I specifically told you not to cross! How about you try having someone’s life in your hands? My job isn’t a walk in the park, Jeno. I need to be alert. I need to have my head set on straight, but clearly, I can’t have any of that because I have to hear you fucking the next person who looks at you! If any of my patients die, it’s on you. If I lose my job because I let a patient die, it’s on you—why won’t this fucking thing work!”

Your last straw might as well be the shitty coffee machine proving, once again, how shitty it was. You were half-tempted to unplug the thing and chuck it at his head.

God, you were so fucking angry. The two weeks away from home was the semblance of peace you had desperately needed after almost jeopardizing an angioplasty case with Dr. Jung when you caught yourself handing the wrong type of suture he asked for. It was only luck that you were stuck with one of the more approachable surgeons from cardio, letting you off with a lighthearted ‘wake up’ as Dr. Jung gestured for the right one.

Jeno reached over, pressing down on a button while tilting his head. “Are you done?” He said along the low whir of the coffee machine, evidently trying not to laugh.

The minty waft of his breath hit your face and it was then did you notice how close he had gotten. Your toes almost touching as you blinked up to meet his eyes, confused at how fucking fast he got all up in your space while you ranted.

You scowled harder. “Yeah,” and wow, you knew Jeno was one of the few lucky ones who grew to be tall. Height was one of the obvious physical advantages he had, but when put into perspective, having him like this—almost chest to chest—made a huge difference. You felt so small underneath Jeno’s imposing dead-eyed stare as if he was gauging his prey; a silent dare for you to make one sudden move knowing he’d catch you in the end after playing with you for a little, one way or another. “Yeah, I’m done.”

A small smile tugged on his lips. “Less work for me then.”

“Huh?”

Jeno dipped his head so quickly that it took you a second or two to register his lips pressing against yours.

Jeno Lee. The very same Jeno Lee you imagined exploding in your head too many times to the point you grew bored of the gory image enough to consider telepathically saying I hope you get chlamydia I hope you get chlamydia I hope you get chlamydia until it takes and manifests in real life, was kissing you. This was far from the initial possible outcome you would expect in light of the cold war wedging a gap between you that the backasswards had all higher functions of your brain—and possibly the one that had telepathy locked away forever—shut down when he angled his head to press deeper, as if to coax you into becoming an active participant.

The only options left for you to consider were: a.) kiss him back b.) kiss him back since it became crystal clear that whatever method of psychological warfare Jeno waged wasn’t worth stopping. For reference, option b was the obvious choice. The emphasis, the drama of it all complemented your own flair for dramatics and you would rather drop dead than let Jeno have the upper hand. And maybe because you were insane, choosing anything but resolving the issue with a proper talk, and good lord can the man kiss.

It’s his lips, you thought bitterly, lips of plump and petal-pink goodness melding against your own slightly chapped pair that rendered you uncharacteristically pliant.

Normally, you were anything but, though it was a little rewarding to know that Jeno was losing it just as much; the finesse to his methods gradually chipping away along the push and pull of your mouths with the delicious burden of his weight pressing you against the counter to have more than just a taste. A small window was open for some lucidity to seep in, that being Jeno’s forethought of wriggling a hand in between the edge of the counter top and your back so it wouldn’t jab at your spine as the other cupped your jaw, shuddering when his pinky brushed along a sensitive spot behind your ear.

Jeno smiled at this. You felt him smile at this, but you were still stuck on the oddly sweet gesture that you thought to show some gratitude by returning the same level of eagerness Jeno had, suckling and biting down on his bottom lip. At his whine, you promptly soothed the spot with a languid swipe of your tongue and did it all over again. Not that he minded. You could practically tell just how excited he was; all bricked up and prodding the softness of your belly, and he didn’t seem to be embarrassed by it at all. You didn’t think he would be when he had quite the package.

“I’ve always wanted to do that.”

There’s a wry grin tugging at his lips when you both parted for some air. “All I could think about was shutting you up every single time you bitch at me.” He regained the closeness just to brush his lips against your cheek, sighing almost in a dreamy-like manner that you were half-tempted to back out. “You’re so cute when you’re angry.”

“Don’t piss me off,” you settled on saying instead as a warning, yet let Jeno—taking it as a cue—lift you up and place you on top of the counter without any struggle that you didn’t even try to hide the fact that the display of Jeno’s raw strength was doing it for you. An infuriatingly attractive feat and you supposed your thought on the matter translated on your face well enough if Jeno’s cheeky grin was anything to go by.

Still, the spread of your legs was no less inviting, something Jeno found funny as he snickered to himself before taking the space in between them for you to wind your arms around his sturdy shoulders and pull him down for another kiss. Mostly to shut him up. Yes, definitely to shut him up.

Jeno parted from you again with an audible smack, his thumbs rubbing slow circles on your waist. “Personally—”

You groaned, “oh here we go.”

“Personally,” Jeno tried again, ignoring your yelp when he gave a playful pinch to your skin. “I still think that you’re so pent up that everything annoys you—like me having a healthy sex-life, for example.”

This was it. This was definitely rock-bottom. You were finally in the trenches that you’re entertaining an actual conversation relating to Jeno’s fixation of sticking his dick into willing holes more times than you could count. Oh, and the fact that you were starting to become a little self-conscious from not getting any forms of sex on the regular unlike mister casanova over here.

You hit him with a dubious look. “Where are you even going with this?”

Jeno let out a low hum in lieu of an actual answer and pulled you forward as if he wasn’t already up in your space, the tip of his strong nose gently grazing yours, his lips doing pretty much the same thing too: a gentle brush against your own twitchy pair when he murmured, “don’t you want to let off a little steam? I can help. I want to help.”

And that rightfully stumped you. Not because it was the second time he propositioned you, with the first being more of a joke than anything, but how Jeno actually came off genuine this time around. Not a trace of the smugness could be found either. Just unbridled zeal that being scrutinized by the darkness of Jeno’s gaze birthed a familiar simmering of—horrifyingly enough—want beneath your navel.

There was an argument that could be made here. Where the stubborn part of you could simply claim that it was your curiosity coming into play—wanting to see for yourself if what Mark (and the girls) had said about Jeno was true; that there was a reason why Jeno’s roster was seemingly never ending. You could do that. Though, if anyone were to walk in right now, you didn’t think the compromising position would help in any way when you were quite literally entangled with each other.

Likewise, It didn’t really help that the wretched gremlin burrowing in the debased parts of your brain wanted Jeno Lee so much that you damn near salivated when the man bared more of his neck as a silent ‘go ahead’ for you to ravage the smooth skin with reds, blues and purples with your teeth. You’ve come to terms with the fact that you were attracted to Jeno that it honestly made you stupid enough to have a taste once the chance presented itself, surprisingly, without wishing an aneurysm upon yourself.

But you weren’t going to give in that easily. You could just raise that having first hand experience with whatever Jeno had to offer was all for the sake of research and to prove your point.

That’s all that it was. That’s all that it will be; a case study for you. Nothing more, nothing less.

Jeno squeaked out his confusion when you ended up having his cheeks squished between your fingers and thumb right when he tried going in for another kiss, causing his lips to pucker out even more.

“What makes you think I’ll let you fuck me?”

You dug your fingers into his skin harder as a warning when he tested his luck again.

It’s almost comical watching Jeno stiffen in your hold, making a show of gathering enough distance for him to look right into your eyes.

Then Jeno smiled something placid, yet the glimmer in his eyes told you otherwise. You felt so seen that you wanted to curl into yourself so he wouldn’t have to pick you apart with his steely gaze alone. In that moment, you were prey at the mercy of an apex predator just waiting to strike.

“Is that a challenge?” Jeno asked, even-tempered, irritatingly enough.

“And what if it is?” your fingers tangled themselves in the smooth dark blue strands and tugged gently. “Scared that you’ll lose?”

Jeno’s smile widened.

If there was one thing to take away from all of this, it was to never test the limits of a Taurus man’s patience.

Or else you’d end up in a position where your strength—or lack thereof—would be tested; or else you’d end up restless in between Jeno’s spread legs, one of his arms slung down the length of your torso as a seat belt and anchoring you down to his chest while three of his nimble fingers pistoned in and out of your sopping cunt. It was a fight with an obvious outcome of you losing by a landslide with his death grip around you, but you couldn’t help but squirm when he was so good at making you feel delirious just from his fingers making a mess of where you ached the most.

Fingers that were longer and thicker, reaching deeper than yours ever could. With Jeno, it took him no time at all to have you crying out from his digits nudging that sensitive spot within your silken walls, and the same fingers decidedly pulled out without any warning with an impossibly wet sound just for Jeno to switch his attention towards your clit, fingers flicking sideways in quick succession. This urged an immediate reaction, you letting out a shuddering cry as one of your hands shot out to lock tightly around his wrist.

Your head spun at Jeno’s gentle hushing as you twitched in his embrace. Tender words easily slipping past his full lips in conjunction with his almost rough treatment had your body wounding tighter and tighter as the divide between pleasure and pain gradually flattened to gossamer thin with each pass of Jeno’s fingers across your clit.

He played you like a fiddle, like he knew exactly what to do in drawing out a pleasure filled song from within you until the barrier ripped, sobbing wetly into the air as you and your resolve shattered into pieces with Jeno’s constricting hold around your quivering form kept you from breaking completely.

When you came to, Jeno’s voice was the first thing you latched onto, bringing you back to full lucidity; gentle as he talked you through what was probably the most intense, toe-curling orgasm from being finger-banged on the couch, of all places.

Jeno breathed out a mixed noise of surprise and amazement. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

And it was when you felt the familiar warm and wet trickle from your pussy down to your ass did you finally let the humiliation set it: you’ve let Jeno finger you on the couch, soaking his shorts and the couch as evidence.

You wanted to die.

“Yeah, well, It’s not like I tell everybody I can,” you panted, hissing when Jeno’s hand curiously trailed down to assess the mess, middle and ring finger slipping between your vulva then dipping shallowly into you and rewarding himself with a whine. Uncomfortable as it was to move your neck at this angle, you wouldn’t miss the chance to glare at him. “like—‘hi! I’m this and that, and I can squirt!—do you know how deranged that sounds?”

“I dunno, I know I‘d be impressed. Intrigued. Maybe even ask for a demo—”

“Jeno.”

“Kidding! I’m kidding,” Jeno snickered as he retracted his fingers, only to stick them into his mouth with a pleased hum, like it was the tastiest thing he’s ever had in his life. “What?” He asked, muffled from suckling on his fingers still, when he caught you gawking at him, completely mortified by the shameless sweep of his tongue around his digits.

You wanted to cry. “You’re a fucking freak.”

“Oh princess, this is nothing,” Jeno finally freed is mouth of the visual torture, a broad grin stretching spit-slick lips when he, again, took in your visceral reaction towards being called princess. He’s so annoying. You verbalized the thought and the fucker just laughed. “Call me a freak again when I ask you to soak my face,” he said, voice sweet, wincing slightly when he held your cheeks, with damp fingers and all. Freak. “Or would you like it better if I beg instead? I’m flexible. I’ll do anything you want.”

Never mind, that was much much worse. Holy fuck. The visual in your head did nothing but spur you on even further no matter the aftermath of a thigh shaking release taking its effects now.

“Stop talking,” you groaned. “please, just shut up.”

“Okay.” Jeno giggled. Giggled, like he wasn’t an insane person delighting himself to your bodily fluids just a few seconds ago. Then to add insult to injury, he pressed a tender kiss to your temple. “Think you can go another round?”

So he made you cum once—squirt, for that matter, but that’s, like, whatever when you were capable of doing that on your own. You had plenty of time figuring out what you liked best in this realm of preferences and for all you knew, Mark was simply fucking with you—just like the other girls probably were—as some sick elaborate joke, and Jeno was simply overcompensating for the sake of his ego with their help.

“Just… give me a few. I’m starting to go deaf.” Well, not really. It felt more like there was cotton stuffed into your ears, your own voice sounding muffled and faraway. Although you weren’t new to the feeling, it wasn’t common either and it was especially new that another person was able to render you into this sluggish version of yourself.

He sucked in a breath. “Was it that good that you’ve gone temporarily deaf?”

Other than that, then came the numbing of your scalp. You’ve read about this once, a product from genuine curiosity after a little moment of freaking the fuck out, thinking you were about to die from cumming too hard to the point of losing circulation up there in your brain. And—no you weren’t dying, though it would be an interesting way to go.

You followed up with this just as the blunt edges of his fingernails lightly scratched at your scalp. “I literally can’t feel that except a slight pressure—and don’t get too cocky. This happens to me when I get myself off too.”

Jeno didn’t get even a second of gloating before you started rambling about the possibilities of why this happens with a basic rundown of the nervous system (rapid increase in heart rate and blood pressure) and completely disregarding the stiff outline of Jeno’s pride pressing snugly into the cleft of your bare ass cheeks.

He felt just as hard as he was when you sucked faces in the kitchen. Warm. Big, that you had no idea if the shakes you were getting now was out of fear for Jeno’s cock potentially rearranging your guts to the point of no return, or out of anticipation from that possibly happening. Though what was more shocking was Jeno maintaining some sort of chivalrous streak, staying where he was and putting your pleasure first before his own when he could pretty much turn the tides and have his way with you.

But like a dog being told to stay for a promised treat, Jeno doesn’t do anything, besides soothing you with absentminded caresses here and there while he listened.

At least that’s how you thought this slip in judgment was going to end right until Jeno picked you up in one fell swoop, abruptly—and rudely—cutting you off from the build up towards a detailed spiel of a hypothesis to instead let out an undignified yelp of surprise. He hauled you up without any visible struggle and it was doing horrible horrible things to your psyche.

“Seriously, Jeno,” you exclaimed, grunting when he wrangled you onto your knees, your chest pressed down onto the coffee table as if you were nothing but a doll he gets to twist and bend for his own entertainment. “Were you even listening?”

“Uh huh—something about the temporary effects of an orgasm to the nervous system,” he trailed off at the same time his fingers grazed your skin while rucking up your pullover, just high enough that you shivered against the cool glass surface. “I’ll be honest with you, Human Biology wasn’t exactly interesting to me, but the little science session was cute.”

The glass was doing wonders in cooling down your cheek.

This was the second time he has called you cute. So casually too that you started to think that maybe Jeno had a thing for embarrassing you, see you squirm, whine, make a fool out of yourself—overall, make your life more difficult than it already was.

“Dick,” you quipped, all too weak to actually mean it and Jeno seemed to get the memo, offering a short laugh. “do I have to fit a certain criteria to do this in your bedroom?” you followed, mustering up some strength to glare at him over your shoulder, only to falter when you found Jeno was rather preoccupied with something else.

It’s no secret that Jeno was simply born with a resting face so sweet and unassuming that there was this perceived notion of him not having a mean bone inside that clean-cut body of his. That Jeno wasn’t capable of dishing out noteworthy comebacks aimed at the ego.

Sure, he could be unaware at times (as per his loud sex problem), but you couldn’t deny the simple truth that Jeno could be nice—is nice. So nice. Sweet even, that the expression crossing his face was just as honeyed and becoming more so the longer he stayed kneeling there, raking his eyes over your half-naked form bent to compliance. It wasn’t the blatant leering that got to you though, but more of how Jeno looked doing it. Who knew the mole smack dab in the middle of your back could be adored this much?

There’s a faint smile tugging on his lips. Miniscule, barely there—still a smile, nonetheless, as he traced the length of your back with his eyes, his large hands essentially doing the same: mapping the entirety of your torso for his own indulgence until he got his fill; warm palms gluing to the soft dips of your waist, all the while his face twisted where it gave the impression he was seeing what was front of him for the very first time.

You looked away, face hotter than it was before.

Whatever that was seemed too private of a moment to witness. It felt intimate—the way his eyes drank in your body—too intimate for a ‘one and done’ thing that you seriously couldn’t wait to get fucked and put an end to this hands-on case study of Jeno’s whore-ish tendencies.

“So no bedroom, then,” you said, hoping it would snap Jeno out of it.

“Sorry, princess.” And, to be fair, Jeno did sound apologetic for a man that was about to get his dick wet for the umpteenth time. You gave him points for trying, then docked off some because princess. Really? “I don’t think I can make the trip to my bedroom. Need to fuck you now or else my dick will fall off.”

You closed your eyes, dropping your chin forward far enough that your forehead met the glass surface with a dull thunk.

So much for thinking he was sweet during a moment. It’s like the more he opened his mouth, the more he inched away from the polite friend-of-a-friend gym-bro who probably helped grandmas cross the street.

“Ugh—fuck you.”

“Mm, yeah.” You stopped counting the last time you had fallen into bed with someone else, and you were starting to think that it has probably been a while; if the brush of spandex against your skin from Jeno fumbling behind to drag his shorts just low enough for his cock to spring free has you completely losing it. Jesus, this was embarrassing. “You’re about to.”

You scoffed, “corny.”

Jeno didn’t deign the cattiness with an answer and instead let his growing impatience speak for itself, kneeing your thighs further apart and shuffling closer until your sharp intake of breath pierced through the once still air when the sticky head of his cock prodded at your hole.

“Any time now.”

Trying to sound unaffected was truly a Sisyphean task. You couldn’t help it, really. Being snarky came natural to you, though if Jeno could tell you were just talking your shit to cover up your impatience, he did nothing about it and went about with teasing you, dragging his length back and forth against your slit.

“I’m literally becoming dryer the longer you keep this up.”

That got a reaction out of him this time, letting out an incredulous laugh, “there’s no way of shutting you up, is there?”

“I don’t know, you can try hard—” whatever else that was supposed to follow immediately died at the tip of your tongue, gasping at the sudden intrusion.

“Oh! Well that’s one way.”

Another version of Jeno in your head just died of spontaneous combustion. You could literally hear him smile. Smiley bastard.

It was intense for sure. As intense as it could be after a stupidly long dry spell that you genuinely felt as though you were reborn a fucking virgin and made the mistake of picking the very guy with a third leg for a dick to pop your cherry. If the head of his cock breaching your pussy had you this frenzied, who knew what the actual thing could do to your actively deteriorating sanity? And—well, you were about to find out, weren’t you?

The reality of it all hit you like a freight train, the groan Jeno breathed out sounded so loud even over the mechanical drone of the air conditioner when he pushed deeper into you.

“Jen—oh my God—wait—” You reached behind to grab onto Jeno’s ass cheek at breakneck speed. A grave mistake, really, because in what you would hope could have stopped Jeno from basically splitting you into two, you unintentionally helped him plug you up. Your nails dug into his flesh as a result.

“Careful with the claws,” he hissed. “They actually hurt.”

“Yeah?” He yelped when you squeezed his ass tighter, his own hand holding onto yours to stop you from doing actual damage. “Try getting impaled by a dick, dickhead.”

Jeno went rigid. “You’ve had sex before, right?”

“Yes?” You looked at him like he was stupid over your shoulder and—all gods above. He already looked fucked out. Cheeks pink, skin shining with sweat (when did he take his shirt off?) and eyes darker from how blown out his pupils were—you know, maybe you weren’t too far off from the thought. “But unlike you, I don’t fuck the next thing that breathes my way.”

“Wow,” Jeno huffed. “Clearly I’m doing something wrong if you’re still running your mouth.”

You had a long history of letting your mouth run before your brain could even decipher if what you had to say would be ideal for the situation. To get out of it, though, was a completely different story and with how things are unfolding, yeah, maybe you bit off more than you could chew.

“No, no—shh, it’s okay. You're okay,” Jeno soothed just as you squirmed, trying to relax. “You're doing so good for me. Just breathe, yeah? Jus’ a little more—oh, fuck.” The guttural groan coincided with the squeak you let out once Jeno shoved himself balls deep into you with a faint slap of skin, clenching around him.

Out of all the men you’ve been with in the past, it took you the longest to adjust around Jeno’s girth. Not only because you simply did not have the time to fuck around, but he really was huge in the sense that he was somehow hitting places that you didn’t even know were there. He truly was the biggest you’ve taken in a while and it was a relief that you had the day off tomorrow and the day after; plenty of time to recover. The thought of having to explain getting railed over your coffee table to the point you were walking funny was mortifying enough as it is.

“This is so much better than hearing you bitch and moan, seriously. Sometimes I start thinking you just want me to hate you.” Jeno didn’t look like he was capable of hating anything if he tried, though with the way his hips drilled mercilessly into you, maybe a tiny part of him could. If pushed right. “And you complain so damn much about the noise when you’re no better. Can you hear how fuckin’ loud you are now?”

You didn’t even realize Jeno was still holding onto the hand that seemed to permanently glue itself onto his barely-there ass cheek until he took your joined hands—fingers laced and all—to migrate beside your head. Right in front of your face and, somehow, it felt like an insult.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Jeno Lee,” you moaned and squeezed his hand at a particularly hard thrust jostling you forward. “Fuck you and your useless big dick.”

Jeno snickered. You still called him big, so he’ll take that as a win. “My dick is one of those things and it’s not useless.”

Jeno didn’t really mind how loud you actually were. In fact, he liked it. A lot. Liked hearing how good he was making you feel with each drag of his cock within your warm and slick insides. Liked knowing that he was the reason why you were so lost in your own song of pleasure as you fucked back onto him with all you’ve got when he stopped all his movements to see what you would do and goodness, were you a sight for sore eyes. And Jeno was glad to witness all of this.

You were truly a fantasy come to life. Something he’d never would expect to touch, to mold and to feel in his own hands.

Watching you take what you wanted with no complaints was not an expected outcome—hell, having sex with you wasn’t what Jeno was hoping to get from tonight at all. Talking would have been just fine, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Of course not. Not when you were putting up a show, fueled by your own greed for pleasure, for him and him alone and he could tell all that pent-up stress was starting to seep out the more the back of your thighs met his.

Jeno was a patient man for sure. He was known for it at work. When it came to his diligent daily visits to the gym just two blocks away. When it came to living life in general; yet somehow, you were part of the minute collective that was able to test that until there was nothing left of it and as much as Jeno loved seeing you like this; desperate enough for cock that doing all the work was no problem, he quickly grew bored being a spectator.

There was also you threatening the safety of his skull if he didn’t get a move on to fuck you harder. Jeno only let out an amused snort at this, thinking it was cute and leaned forward so you were chest to back.

“I hoped for a second you’d be begging,” he mumbled into your nape. “you’re something else, aren’t you?”

“Fuck me, or I’ll make sure you’ll never get to fuck anyone else ever again.”

Well.

You did make a compelling argument, and just like how this all went, Jeno followed and delivered.

It was made very clear to you that his muscles weren’t just for show because unlike you, he possessed an insane amount of core strength that it barely dented his stamina when he lifted you up a couple of inches above the coffee table. Your joined hands came in clutch for balance while his free hand acted like a necklace loosely wrapped around your throat so Jeno could kiss you as his hips regained momentum.

Kissing gradually became less of a thing and more of just you both breathing into each other’s mouths, completely taken over by the sheer pleasure of it all. Normally, you’d avoid his eyes if you could, but you were so far gone that you didn’t mind staring into the endless pits of Jeno’s hooded stare. His thrusts slowed down, yet they were more deliberate than ever that it took all of your leftover energy to not say anything stupid like how this change in angle and pace had Jeno plunging in so deep that you could almost feel him in your throat.

“‘m close,” he rasped, hand on your neck tightening a smidge as his movements steadily increased in speed. “How about another one from you, huh? On my cock this time?”

You could only sound a shaky hum and that was enough of an answer for him.

Heated and damp skin met the glass surface once more and Jeno’s cock snugly fit inside of you again with little to no resistance. It was almost the same as how you started out. The only difference was your navel pressing firmly against the table by your still joined hands pushing down onto your back.

Time wasn’t wasted at all and that change alone fully intensified the sensation of Jeno’s girth drilling into you like he was trying so hard to carve a space that he could only fill, even more so when you wriggled and squared your hips to take him in better. It made so much of a difference that your eyes rolled back into your skull as mindless pleasured noises spilled past your lips, your grip around his fingers growing tighter that it hurt your own.

The second wave of your orgasm encroached at a dangerously fast pace from the oversensitivity earlier and the consistency of Jeno’s perfectly timed jackhammering thrusts hitting the tender spot within you, forcing out tinny ah ah ahs out of you as you clenched around him from how mind-numbingly amazing this was, being underneath Jeno’s weight.

It’s been too fucking long that the delirious part of your brain, completely compromised by the rush of dopamine and oxytocin from cumming for the second time entertained the idea of keeping Jeno buried in you long enough until your insides molded around each ridge and vein of Jeno’s cock for the perfect fit. You’ve never felt this full in your life. Even the frantic pistoning of Jeno’s hips aided by the wet gush of slick didn’t shatter the illusion. The feeling of cotton stuffed into your ears came back tenfold.

“Close,” Jeno rasped. “Where—where?”

“Pull out,” you said, all too winded to add that you were on the pill, but you didn’t want to take your chances. Apparently the tension was that bad that none of you had the forethought of using a condom. Your minds were so clouded that critical thinking was impossible, but what’s done was done.

Jeno pulled out with a slick sound, followed by a shaky moan that grew louder and louder with each stroke of his cock, leaving you to whine from the loss (wow, you were so out of it). Warm cum splattered onto the sweat-damp skin of your back and for once, you didn’t have the heart or energy to complain about the sticky mess

Click.

Your eyes shot open. “Did you just take a photo of me?”

“Yeah,” Jeno said. “You look good like this. Pretty. Wanted to have something to jerk off too.”

He could have just stopped at pretty. “You’re gross. You aren’t going to show that to anybody else, are you?”

“Don’t worry, I don’t like sharing and I actually value my life.”

You could only groan in response, sagging more against the now moist surface of the glass as if you were trying to merge yourself with it, feeling the after effects of Jeno trying to fuck the life out of you.

“I think I’m going to die.”

Jeno responded in kind with a sweet laugh, letting go of your hand. It didn’t even register that you still had your fingers intertwined up until he let go, and tempted as you were to lift yourself up and see what kind of face he was making now that he left his mark on you, you were genuinely too exhausted to do that.

“That good, huh?” His hands returned to your hips, squeezing them gently. “I told you so.”

With the last bit of your strength, you kicked at his thigh.

“Okay, let’s get you up.” He swiped his discarded shirt up from the floor to wipe away the cum before lifting you up by the armpits so you’re on your knees, settling your weight onto your calves as he watched your pullover delicately fall into place and cover up most of your skin. Your own name on his tongue sounded so far away to you. “—hey. You still with me?”

There’s a hum as a response and that’s it. Not only did he end up fucking all the stress and tension out of you, there goes half of your life, too. Gravity took over and you fell right into his chest with your head cushioned by his bare shoulder, eyes glazed over.

“How does a bath sound?”

You nodded, letting your eyes slip closed as Jeno adjusted your slumped form to carry you.

Jeno almost jumped out of his skin when your phone rang.

“Hello?” Jeno said quietly after scrambling for it on your side of his bed, looking over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t woken you up. He didn’t think you had granted him the perk to simply barge into your room just yet, so he had you clothed in one of his sleep shirts and a pair of new boxer shorts as you dozed away.

“Jeno? Why do you have her phone? Did you kill her before she killed you?”

“No.” That made him worry. How often did you tell anyone who’d happily lend an ear that you’d murder him in cold blood? Whatever, hopefully after tonight, things will smoothen out. “She’s asleep right now. She won’t be heading back over there tonight.” Or ever, he thought.

“Oh?” Jaemin sounded excited for a second, then turned suspicious. “Why? Did she forgive you yet?”

Jeno let the question marinate for a moment, weighing the benefits of letting one of the nosiest people he knew in on his business. A loud snort followed by some mumbling startled him and Jeno craned his neck to find you now facing his side of the bed, still asleep with your mouth parted in a darling little ‘o’. There’s drool at the corner of your mouth. You’ve never looked cuter.

“Define… forgive.”

For once, Jaemin, surprisingly, was rather quick on the uptake “Oho? You two fucked it out, didn’t you?” When Jeno didn’t answer right away, Jaemin gasped. “Jeno, you dog!”

His cackling caused Jeno’s cheeks to flush an impossible red. “Don’t make it weird!”

“You made it weird the second you decide to sleep with her. Besides, we’re all adults here! I promise I won’t tell my third unofficial roommate“—Jeno wished he could reach through the phone right now and choke the life out of him—“that you told me. Tell me everything. Down to the nastiest detail—Hyuck! Oh my God, you’re home just in time. Guess what—“

“I’m coming by and getting the rest of her stuff in a bit.” The whining fell deaf onto Jeno’s ears. “Goodbye, Jaemin.”

He hung up, gently sliding your phone underneath the pillow you’re using. Actually, maybe you'd let him in your good graces if he went to fetch your charger.

Just when he thought peace and quiet had finally been attained, his own phone started buzzing from an onslaught of messages.

Hyuck: U GUYS FUCKED????? Hyuck: WITHOUT ME??? Hyuck: NO FAIR 😭😭😭😭

Jaemin: OR ME??? Jaemin: spare coochie plz 🥺🤲🏼

Hyuck: was there a tape at least 😔

Jaemin: 👀

Jeno: I hope she kills you both when I show her these.

Jeno set his phone to ‘Do Not Disturb’ and tossed it carelessly onto his nightstand.

This was not your room.

With each toss and turn, it still smelt like man, which wasn’t completely awful. It’s a rather pleasant scent; fresh, not too overwhelming on the citrus notes and something woodsy and floral binding everything together. A little too summery when it was currently in the middle of autumn, but you supposed you were in no position to judge when you’ve been using the same perfume since high school.

All in all, it was still nice. If not a little off-putting, not waking up entangled in your linen sheets which was starkly different from how your usual mornings went, yet the exhaustion was what kept you from making a huge fuss. At least Jeno's room didn't harbor the aesthetics of anything from the r/malelivingspace subreddit. Jeno's room was rather nice. Clean. Neat. Evident that a man lived here.

Apart from the abrupt change, there was also the bone-deep soreness serving as a heavy reminder of the aftermath of your decision to sleep with the very same person who took it from you.

And how ironic that he was also the reason why you slept so well last night too.

What a way to end your so-called case study with you as the punchline, really and—fine, maybe Jeno did have the room to boast his admittedly exceptional stroke game. Maybe Jeno knew how to make people cum and it was a fluke that he made you, too. Twice. Maybe Jeno earned his merit of being an expert in the field of sex then.

Your lips wobbled, frowning at Jeno’s ceiling.

This was literally the worst discovery of your life. Being a test subject yourself to see if Jeno’s reputation had preceded him didn’t make it any less horrifying. How could you return to normalcy after this?

You buried your face into one of Jeno’s many pillows and screamed.

Luckily, he hadn’t caught wind of your morning breakdown.

After freshening up in the bathroom, you quietly made your way towards the spacious kitchen, assuming it’s where Jeno was, albeit slowly as each step you took made the ache in between your thighs more pronounced. He had his back to you, bare of anything besides the tight boxer briefs and the frilly pink apron shielding his torso from the splattering oil cinched around his waist.

Jeno Lee painted the very picture of temptation in this current moment. Jacked all to hell, complementing his god-like proportions that showed off his slutty waist women alike would die to have and a striking face that could start wars. But out of everything, your gaze lingered on his barely-there ass wondering if your nails did leave any stinging marks that Jeno would feel for days.

“Oh, hey. You’re up—were you staring at my ass?”

From his behind, you immediately stuck your eyes onto something else less suspicious—like the geometric light fixture just above his head you once hoped would knock him out one day.

“No I wasn’t,” you said, keeping your voice even. “Can’t stare at anything that isn’t even there.”

“Hey!” Jeno whined. “I do have an ass!”

“And I have a dick,” you shot right back and made your way towards where the shitty coffee machine was. Just a few paces away from where Jeno stood. “See how easy it is to lie?”

He sighed. “How come you have an answer for everything?”

You cracked your first smile of the morning. Smug, if anything, but a smile nonetheless. “You just make it so easy.”

“Damn, so even the sex wasn’t enough,” Jeno muttered as he flipped a pancake with an effortless flick of the wrist. “How many rounds will it take for you to forgive me?”

“Zero.” If looks could kill, Jeno would have burst into flames by now. “Is sex all you think about?”

“I can think of other things…” he trailed off, giving you a quick glance with a sweet moue on his lips. “most of my thoughts are of you, so…” Jeno turned to you fully, his eyes gaining a hopeful shine.

That shocked a short laugh out of you in spite of yourself, shaking your head as you marched for the cupboard. “Nice try, big guy—and the sex?” You shot him a quick glance over your shoulder. “You can forget about it.”

“Okay.”

You looked at him again. Jeno was now frying eggs with his face devoid of everything but concentration.

“I still hate you,” you added, loudly.

The sunny side-up eggs slipped cleanly onto a large plate. “Mhm.”

“It was a one time thing.” Somehow his lack of a reaction was slowly getting to you. “It’s not happening again. Ever. I’m not having sex with you again. Ever.”

“Yeah, I got you the first time.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Perfect.” You harrumped, making a quick grab for your favorite mug before coming face-to-face with your stupid ass coffee machine.

This was not your stupid ass coffee machine.

What sat in place of the old piece of junk Granny had given you as a housewarming gift (after expressing her concern for your possible caffeine addiction) was a newer model you were pretty sure most, if not all, lifestyle influencers had displayed in their meticulously curated coffee corner. This was built mostly for convenience and to fit into the current trend of aesthetics, no wonder you couldn’t get it to work last night. Muscle memory had you pressing the wrong button.

Slowly, you pried your trembling eyes from the brand-spanking-new replacement to watch your roommate in his element, completely unaware of you currently going through the greatest shock of your life, and back.

You looked closer. There was a Post-It stuck onto the side.

I’m sorry (.◜ᯅ◝) — your asshole roommate.

Jeno bought you a new coffee machine.

“Hey Jen?” you called softly after a full minute of inner deliberation.

Jeno hummed his acknowledgement. He even fried the bacon just how you liked it. There’s no way you couldn’t forgive him now. You were mean, sure, but you weren’t evil. Why did he have to be so nice?

“Can you show me how the coffee machine works?” Then, just as quietly, you added: “please?”

He turned to look at you with the most brilliant smile as he killed the fire.

“Yeah. Of course.”

Mark (ER): so did you two talk yet Mark (ER): ..hellooooo Mark (ER): did you kill him 😟

You: no? tf

Mark (ER): so u guys r good now or

You: 👍🏼👍🏼

Mark (ER): omg TWO thumbs ups 😀 Mark (ER): are u bffs now ??? Mark (ER): i was here first btw

You: go bother ur gf omg??????

a/n: *taps mic* ...hello is this thing on? First things first, thank you so much for reading until the end! Originally, this was supposed to come out as a full one-shot, but life has been all sorts of crazy that I simply haven't had enough time to work on this fic as much as I would have liked to. And upon realized it has been so fucking long since I've posted the teaser, I decided to just split it into two parts to get something out, so I truly apologize for the very long wait! I do hope you enjoyed the read and please please let me know your thoughts on it <3

bonus of me going thru it in our chat lovingly named 'en-ct':

TAGLIST: @jaylaxies @hoondrop @justalildumpling @dammit-jjk @learnthisfeeling @90s-belladonna @rjreins @pinknjm @kshynj @dorkyji @notevenheretbh1 @everytimeicrymytearsdonteverdry @iscocohere @seulkikiii @wintahh @peachesmilk @rxnexxi @rum-gone-why @bluedbliss @tiramisubox @jinxxdreamz @minkyuncutie @txnml @yawnzshit @suhwife @carelessshootanonymous @sanctify-mp3 @haechansbbg @dreamiestay @ryuvrsie @derywinkle @byungbyungbaek @surrealxox

#ria:recs #i’ll always cry about this #always.#GODDDD I LOVE JENO #ily nics mwah

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jjjjisun · 11 hours ago

Text

Kitchen Accident

Wonyoung X Male OC | 9968 words

TW: Incest

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Jae was again awake in the middle of the night; it was becoming common. He would wake up and find it impossible to get back to sleep without at least getting himself a drink of water. The hard-on he awoke with also suggested he might need to relieve himself in their master bathroom before he rejoined his wife in bed.

He quietly rolled off the bed and threw on his robe. The forty-three year old didn't bother to close it because, frankly, nobody would be awake and it was his damn house - he could walk around naked if he pleased. It was a bit of a funny sight, Jae thought, looking down at his erection as it stood proudly between the flaps of the white robe. He knew he had little to worry about in the size department. His wife certainly didn't complain, not that she'd slept with him in over a month.

That was probably what had him waking up almost every night. His wife always seemed to find an excuse not to have sex, and Jae was tiring of being rejected. Until he figured out what was wrong, a quick jerk would have to do, and he'd be able to fall back asleep, somewhat satisfied. He tried not to allow the thought that someone in his wife's tennis club was taking his spot in bed, but it wouldn't have surprised him all that much.

Jae closed the door behind him silently and sidled out into the hall. Everybody else would be fast asleep. His daughter Da-ah was in her junior year of college; her door was closed and 300 miles away until the summer. Jinwoo, his twenty-three-year-old son, stayed home for a while as he saved money to move out on his own. The boy slept like a rock and could be heard snoring through his half-open door.

The room before the stairs was Wonyoung's, his youngest daughter, and the bright spot in his life. Jae's dark-haired teenager took after her mother, thankfully only in her looks. She also played tennis in high school and competed at a pretty high level. Jae loved Wonyoung with all his heart and spoiled her every chance. On her eighteenth birthday a few weeks ago, he'd bought her a costly tennis racket and made her swear not to tell her mother. Wonyoung readily agreed, holding the racquet against her chest and squeezing it tight as promised.

At an age when most of her friends complained about their fathers, how strict they were, or the intolerable grounding they had to endure, Wonyoung felt completely contrary. Every minute she could, she spent with her dad. She tried to take an interest in the things he liked: cars, electronics, and such. And he did such a fantastic job being a part of her interests that many of her friends were jealous that her dad spent so much time with her.

But Jae worried about Wonyoung sometimes. His daughter was getting prettier and prettier every day, and she didn't seem to understand how that changed how men and boys looked at her. Her older sister Da-ah certainly didn't set a great example, and now some of the outfits that Da-ah brought home from college were also starting to show up in Wonyoung's repertoire.

His teenage daughter was 5'8" with black hair and big brown eyes. Tennis had slimmed her body, and her affinity for lying out in the backyard had tanned her skin wonderfully, despite his protests for her to take it easy. From all the times he'd carried her to bed at night, he knew she weighed less than 100 lbs. When he started to worry about her was a few years ago when her breasts developed. Now she was sporting a C-cup, even larger than her mother's and impossible not to notice. Since she'd begun imitating her older sister, the tight cotton tank tops and V-necks constantly reminded him that he should keep his eye on her.

Not that he minded... as Jae reached the bottom of the stairs he realized all the thoughts of his baby had made his cock grow to its full length. He needed a glass of milk, a cookie or two, and then maybe a hot shower while he took care of his not-so-little problem. He'd try his hardest not to think of Wonyoung while he stroked, but knew from experience that it wasn't such an easy feat.

They were very close, Wonyoung and her father. Though he didn't like to admit it, Wonyoung had been a source of comfort while the intimacy with his wife had been dying down. Having his beautiful daughter snuggled up to him on the couch as they watched TV or shared a long conversation about nothing during a car ride made things far easier, and he loved her for it. If only Wonyoung shared his bed every night, he'd have a perfect relationship. The thought of Wonyoung in place of his wife, making love to her...Jae shivered.

From time to time, there was tension between Jae and his teenage daughter. He prayed that Wonyoung didn't see it as sexual, but he knew better. Just last week, she had been lying with him on the couch wearing very little. He'd tried to explain to her why she shouldn't wear clothing like that, but it was more difficult to say so without telling the innocent little brunette that it was he she had to be more decent around.

Her tube socks that day, a tiny pair of cotton shorts, and a shirt that, no matter how many times he tried to fix, kept slipping down over her shoulder and dominated his thoughts as they watched TV together. The exposed skin was already too much for him, but when Wonyoung had tried to move around on the couch, she had unknowingly brushed her hand right against his crotch. It was enough to make his cock jump to attention and, terrified that his daughter would discover it, he abruptly got up and walked out of the room. Even when he returned, he had to keep his daughter at a distance, though she quickly tried to cuddle up with him without the slightest concern for how she might be affecting him.

Sometimes his affection and the resulting thoughts he had about his teenager made him feel guilty. But Jae felt turned on when a pretty cashier touched his hand as they exchanged bills, or he heard a sexy voice on the phone; he resolved to stop beating himself up over it. Occasionally, his mind was going to places he hadn't asked it to, like right now when he remembered his daughter in her bathing suit as he passed it hanging on the railing to dry. God, did she have an unbelievable body, if only he could get his hands on her... all over her... He buried the thought and reminded himself that his cock was thinking for him at the moment. He reasoned that he'd probably hump a wall in his state right then.

To Wonyoung, her father was also the best part of her day. He just understood her better than everyone else. Despite what he said, everyone in the family knew she was his favorite. He never seemed to yell at her like he did with her other two siblings. Especially Jinwoo, they sometimes got in some screaming matches that scared her.

Her dad was a big and strong man, with hair that showed just a hint of gray with his age. All her friends swooned over him. Whenever they knew her dad would be around, her friends always seemed to put extra care into their appearance. Wonyoung frequently had to endure her friends flirting with her father or bending over at the car window when he came to pick her up so he could see down their shirts.

"Hi, Mr. Jang," they'd say in a sing-songy voice. Especially Yujin! Though she was Wonyoung's best friend, Yujin always turned gaga whenever Wonyoung's father was around.

"He's hot, Wonyoung. Any one of us would love to have him all over us like he is with you. Get over it!" Yujin would say whenever Wonyoung complained.

Wonyoung didn't ever agree out loud, but there was no denying some of the things they said. Of course, she knew he was a good-looking man; she was the one who spent so much time around him. He had a broad chest, and she could feel it when she laid her hand and head against him on the couch at night. He worked out often, and she knew that because he would chase her around the house when he came home, all gross and sweaty from the gym. His handsome face did little to reveal his age: forty-three with the spirit of a younger man.

He was the only boy, well... man, who gave her attention simply because he loved her. The boys at school only came near her when they were trying to touch her butt or put their hands on her boobs. Even her male teachers would leer at her when they thought she wasn't looking. Ugh... she often came home and ran to her daddy's arms to feel something real for once.

Wonyoung was a good girl and daughter, but her friends' words sometimes made her think... Every once in a while, she noticed her dad looking at her lovingly, making her feel tingly. She didn't mind having his eyes on her, though perhaps she should have, and occasionally she sought it out by wearing things that she thought made her look sexy or even a little slutty. She hoped her father didn't think less of her for it, but sometimes she just couldn't help around him.

That night, Wonyoung had stayed up late binge-watching a TV show on her computer. Hours after everyone had gone to sleep, she was still awake. A racy scene in the show made her fingers practically guide themselves under the covers to her panties. It wasn't very graphic, but as she heard the female character panting and watched the couple having 'sex' on screen, she knew she was getting turned on.

Wonyoung had never had sex before, and she didn't think she'd know how to properly. The pretty brunette had only ever kissed a boy, and she let one other touch her breasts over her shirt. But both boys had turned into super-jerks shortly afterward, telling everyone about their accomplishments with Wonyoung and making her the talk of the rumor mill at school for a few days each time. Of course, her father had been there to make her feel better when she got home, but she'd decided to keep boys her age at a distance since then.

So as Wonyoung's fingers found her panty-line and pried underneath, she did so without much knowledge of how to make herself feel good. A couple times, when she was turned on, Wonyoung had been able to rub the outside of her pussy until she had a short but rewarding orgasm. Last week, she had done so after a long night of cuddling with her dad, and had felt guilty afterwards knowing that he had played a part in her arousal. This time, after she had tried unsuccessfully for a few minutes, Wonyoung decided to try something new.

Yujin had told her that she should try using a vegetable. Wonyoung knew that was how sex worked, but for a long time she had felt guilty even touching herself, let alone sticking one of her mom's cucumbers up there! But now she was just too horny and very curious so she decided to take a look in the fridge.

The cute brunette walked on tiptoes to her door and opened it as quietly as possible. She wore a pair of cotton underwear when she'd gone to bed, but she had pushed them off in her heated frustration. Now all she had on was a white cotton tank-top, and though she considered going back to her bed to find her panties, Wonyoung felt sure she would be alone for as long as it took to get to the kitchen and back.

So she closed the bedroom door behind her and tiptoed down the stairs toward the kitchen. Wonyoung listened closely to the quiet of the house and, hearing nothing, went as quickly as possible to the fridge. It was dark in the house, with only the light from the clock on the microwave to illuminate the nearby space. Wonyoung almost knocked a vase to the ground, but steadied it before it fell.

'Phew,' she thought, shivering with a little chill as she felt the cool night air on her naked bottom. She had been so wet that her inner thighs were damp; had thinking about her daddy made her so horny like that? Wonyoung didn't always feel guilty when her father entered her thoughts inappropriately. Occasionally, she told herself that fantasizing about him wasn't wrong; she couldn't act out her thoughts. Plus, there was no way her father would ever reciprocate, even if she wanted him to.

Her little pussy felt even colder when she bent over to look in the vegetable drawer of the fridge. From behind the tiny brunette would have looked incredible, her legs held together and bending at the waist, naked bottom and her cute, bare pussy where anyone could see.

Still groggy as he walked down the stairs, Jae rubbed his eyes and yawned. But no matter how tired he felt, Jae knew he'd have trouble sleeping until he carried out this frustrating nighttime routine. He barely opened his eyes, knowing the house backwards and forwards as he did. When he finally came to the fridge, it didn't appear odd that it was already open. He was half awake and only had one thing on his mind: to take a big swig directly from the milk carton like his wife hated. Jae simply grabbed the handle of the open fridge and swung himself around it lazily, precisely the way he scolded his son for, to get a look inside.

Wonyoung was rummaging deep in the drawer when her fingers finally found what she was looking for, it was the perfectly sized... ughhhHHH

Bent at the waist the way Wonyoung was, her tiny young pussy couldn't have been in a more perfect spot.

As her father came around with one hand on the door and the other rubbing an eye, his erection couldn't have pointed any more directly.

He hadn't seen her there... he hadn't been looking for anyone there, but as soon as Jae's feet squared off toward the open fridge, he felt her. There was no mistaking that he had just come to a halt with his cockhead securely inside a wonderfully warm and tight pussy.

"Ouuuuuuwwwahhhh..." Wonyoung whined. She couldn't make sense of what had just happened and couldn't form words to protest. One second, she was searching in the fridge, and the next, she felt very intense pressure from the very spot she had been touching minutes ago. She could feel pain there, too, and it had happened all at once.

Jae's mind was still foggy, and the sudden change in sensation to his hard member made him throb, and his mind lost its place in time. The very intimate position in which he now found himself made him assume he simply hadn't checked to see if his wife was asleep when he got out of bed, and now he was finally getting the relief she'd deprived him of.

He hadn't been inside her in far too long, and seeing that she had yet to complain about the surprise sex, he made an impulsive decision to give in to his desires. Jae reached down and wrapped his hands around her bare hips; it wasn't like her to sleep bottomless, or with the sexy little tank top she now wore, but he wasn't going to complain. With a gentle push of his hips, Jae sank further into her.

"Nooooo...owwwfuuuuck!" Wonyoung cried.

"Bab,y please...it was an accident, I promise...but we haven't had sex in weeks." Jae pleaded

Wonyoung froze, her father could feel her go stiff through his palms, which were needily feeling her hips and tiny butt. Suddenly, she realized what had happened. Her father had accidentally put his penis inside her and now he thought Wonyoung was her mother. What's worse, Wonyoung could feel that her little pussy was so wet her father had slid into it easily.

She didn't know what to say. Her father had paused after pleading to continue, and Wonyoung was speechless. When she had been quiet for a few seconds, still bent over with her hair obscuring her face from his view, Jae took her silence as enough consent for him to finish his plunge into her.

"Noooo... stoppp," Wonyoung begged. Her father only did so when he'd sunk his entire cock into his daughter's young sheath. She felt so tight bent over like that; Jae made a mental note to fuck her in this position more often.

"But honey... You feel so good... I'll be quick, I promise." Jae continued. He was nearly buried in her. Hoping to convince her to submit, Jae pushed hard against her backside and forced his head to seek just a bit deeper.

Wonyoung felt him shove further and her untouched pussy throbbed with pain and unknown feelings as a result of being stuffed full of her daddy's cock.

"Nooo daddy... it's me... oooughhhh... It's Wonyoung."

Jae had only been half listening. The broken words coming out of her mouth hadn't registered, but the unfamiliar tightness of her pussy and the smaller, more toned nature of her backside was further confusing his addled brain. Jae withdrew his cock from his daughter's tight quim and was about to penetrate her for the second time when he heard:

"No daddy, pleaaassse!" Wonyoung muttered, her voice betrayed by the feelings her father's cock was causing her. "You can't, Daddy... It's me... your daughter."

Jae heard her this time, but he couldn't have heard right. Then again, something hadn't felt quite right when he first entered her, and her skin was smoother, her body more youthful. He reached down, palming the vicinity of Wonyoung's breast and lifting her upright so he could see her face. He didn't dare remove himself from inside of her; he couldn't bring himself to do so, regardless of the truth.

He hadn't misheard her. As he lifted his teenage daughter so that her hair fell around her shoulders, he recognized her face immediately. Suddenly the fact that her pussy had felt twenty years younger and her body more lean and seductive made sense. He had, only in unspoken fantasies, imagined what it would be like to make love to his beautiful daughter. Now, in the lone light of the open refrigerator, he was mistakenly penetrating her as he'd only dreamed.

Jae had stopped pulling out of her so that his tip now pulsed with excitement just beyond her pink lips. Wonyoung could feel her daddy there, a wider part of his manhood holding her quim open to him. She prayed he would remove himself and then explain to her, as he always did, that everything would be okay.

With his hand upon Wonyoung's pert breast and his other on her naked hip, it simply wasn't an option to stop. He was already committing incest. Jae had been buried inside his little eighteen-year-old once; what difference did it make in doing so again? Holding tight to his baby girl, he buried his waiting cock in one slow but steady thrust.

"MMmmmmphh... no Daddy, no!" Wonyoung pleaded as she felt her father fucking her again. "Daddy, I'm a virgin, you have to stop...ooouuuuw!"

"Oh Wonyoung, Daddy didn't mean to... ughhh," he sighed as his pelvis once again met his daughter's petite backside, "it was an accident baby... I didn't... ughhh... see you there."

Wonyoung felt her father pull out halfway and then shove back into her as he spoke. Jae knew what he was doing was wrong, but his morals were being battled by the warm entrenchment of his rod inside Wonyoung's teen pussy.

"It's okay, Daddy... I know you didn't mean to, but you have take your penis out of me... mmmhh... before you take my virginity."

Jae looked down between them at where his cock was halfway inside Wonyoung. He could see a small amount of blood from when he'd first encountered resistance at his daughter's hymen. Her years of tennis had probably made it so her cherry wasn't entirely obstructing her entrance, but there was no doubt that when he'd first entered her, he had taken his youngest daughter's virginity.

"Honey, you aren't a virgin anymore now," he told her definitively. He let the words sink in and couldn't help himself moving as slowly and imperceptibly as possible so he could feel the walls of Wonyoung's unclaimed pussy stimulating his cock.

Wonyoung cooed, she could feel her daddy's penis still moving inside her, "Oh no Daddy... did you take my virginity, are you sure?"

"Yes, baby, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to."

The evidence of Wonyoung's virginity wasn't the only thing that Jae had noticed as he looked down at their incestuous connection. It was also hard to miss that his pretty teenager was soaking wet. Her juices had coated his rod thoroughly and were dripping down around his full balls. The realization surprised him and again he thrust upward into Wonyoung's quim in lust.

"If you're sorry dad... oooouummph... why do you keep fucking me? You're cock is too big daddy...oooooo... it hurts me"

Her father was surprised to hear Wonyoung say those dirty words, but far from chastising her. Jae was getting less and less subtle about continuing to chase the pleasure his tiny daughter's quim was giving him.

"Wonyoung, your little pussy makes my cock feel very good... ohhh... it won't hurt as much if I just fuck you a little more honey" his hips slapped against her buttocks and Wonyoung could feel her father prodding her deep enough to encounter resistance inside her.

His hands started to wander around Wonyoung's chest. The friction his fingers were causing by rubbing his fingers over her nipple with the cotton tank top between made her shiver involuntarily.

"But you can put your thing in mommy's pussy... ohhh shiiiit... You can't put it in mine. You could get me pregnant, Daddy!"

Jae stood his daughter up straight and slid his hand from her hip to the hem of her shirt. He didn't want to ignore the pleading of his baby girl; he hadn't even dreamt of deflowering her. But now that he had, Jae couldn't help himself. He could still feel his daughter's opening leaking with desire, and it gave him hope that he might win her over.

"Your mom doesn't let me anymore honey, and you are so much more beautiful than she is..." he told her truthfully, "you can only get pregnant if I cum inside you honey... ouhhhh... I promise I won't!"

Wonyoung felt him shoving his big cock into her again. She'd lost count of how many times he'd plunged into her now, but she was tingling from the inside out between that and the sweet compliment he'd paid her.

She could feel her father's hands getting bolder. One of them had found its way under her shirt and was moving its way up her flat stomach to her boobies. When he reached there, he hesitated with his thumb and forefinger, making a half-circle under her breast. As Wonyoung held her breath she felt her father move his hand so he was cupping her tit fully and testing its weight. Finally, he took her nipple between his fingers and squeezed gently; Wonyoung mewwed in response.

"Oh God, Daddy..." Wonyoung moaned as she felt her father urging his cock in and out of her.

She felt bad for him that her mother had not allowed her wonderful father any relief for many weeks. He was desperate enough to seek it from his daughter, though he may have mistakenly done so initially.

As Wonyoung's father was fucking her as gently as he could stand from behind, she could feel the shock and pain of losing her virginity to her father begin to subside just as he had promised. It was being replaced by something she had never felt before: a building pressure each time her father sank into her.

"Mnnnhhh... what if someone sees... unnnhhh..." Wonyoung complained, "you should stop now, you shouldn't fuck me anymore daddy... oooumpph..." No matter what she said, Wonyoung's pussy was drenched and her moans indicated to her father that if he continued she was going to experience her first orgasm by penetration.

His hands were roaming around, one on her tit and the other massaging the soft flesh around her hip. Her daddy was manhandling her, much different from how he usually held her as they fell asleep watching TV.

Twenty minutes ago, her father had crossed her mind more than once as she touched herself in the quiet darkness of her room. She had been thinking of him when she reached into the vegetable drawer in the fridge. She'd wondered what vegetable would be most similar to her father. Now that he was fucking her, she was pretty sure that nothing in the fridge was large enough to match him.

Wonyoung knew it was wrong; she knew she should push her father off and stop the incest they were committing right away. Why did she stay? Wonyoung wondered what her friend Yujin would say. She was always talking about how hot her daddy was and how bad she wanted him. Did Wonyoung want him too? Is that why she was starting to excitedly anticipate each time his cock would again be snugly thrust inside of her after withdrawal?

"Fuck daddy! You're cock is huge..." he was increasing the vigor of his thrusts, grasping her hip tightly and making sure he was into her before pulling back out. "Be careful dad please... unnhhhh... it hurts more when you fuck me harder!"

"Is this okay, baby?" Jae asked his daughter. He slowed down the pace but still savored the feeling of filling the tiny brunette completely again and again.

"Yes daaaad... uhhhh uhhhh... that feels much better."

He was surprised to hear his little girl finally yielding, and her wet pink pussy was still easing his repeated entry. The sounds of the house were always soothing to Jae: the drone of the fridge compressor, the click of the air conditioner turning on, or the breathing of his sleeping family. But the sounds coming from his teenage daughter were more wonderful to him than anything he'd ever heard... her labored breaths... the swishing of her tight pussy as it accepted his pistoning cock and the quiet whimpering as she felt a man's cock inside her for the first time.

Jae had been there for all of Wonyoung's firsts: her first steps, her first words, her first day at school. He'd held her when she got hurt or when she got a bad grade or whenever he felt his wife was being too harsh with his little girl. He had been there for Wonyoung's first break-up, even when she bought her first bra. Now Jae was always going to be his daughter's first time with a man, and the knowledge that he was claiming her bare, untouched pussy by reaching places with each thrust into her that no man had ever been before... the truth of it was the amazing beyond words.

For years, he'd looked on as Wonyoung became the beautiful girl she was today. In the dressing room, she'd asked how multiple bras looked when he took her to the mall to try them on. He shouldn't have been looking at his young daughter, but with her perfect globes nestled inside the supportive cups, even then, her body was a sight to behold. The thought that she would become such a gorgeous young daughter scared him... He loved her completely, beyond compare, and only dreamed that a man would be deserving enough to have her someday.

Now as he looked down, the dimples in her back where he'd pushed up her shirt and curve of her hips... he gasped... he couldn't believe he was the man fucking his daughter.

"Ohhh fuck... Daddy keep fucking me... ohgod..." she was forgetting to resist now, "you feel so good in my pussy dad."

Jae had felt so guilty when he realized for sure that it was his daughter whom he'd buried his cock into. Even more so when he discovered that he'd taken her virginity as well. But now... now that she was asking him to continue.. she wanted him to keep fucking her...

Jae established a good rhythm and could feel his little girl leaning backward to help him. In short order, he could tell that his teenage daughter was going to have an orgasm. She was breathing more heavily, crying out more needily.

"Ohh fuck... I feel strange... ouuuhhh... wai,t Daddy... hold on..."

But Jae knew what to do, and soon his little girl would be cumming on his cock just the way he wanted her to. He continued to push into her folds and prod her deep within.

"Ohh fuckkk... oh Daaad... "

Wonyoung's knees went weak. Her father supported her while continuing his unrelenting thrusts into her pussy. Her mind was suddenly white, and she felt pins and needles in all of her extremities. She howled

"Ohhhhhh Daaaaaaaaddyyyy."

It was like nothing Wonyoung had ever felt before. Her father had shoved into her and stayed there as she rode out her newly discovered orgasm. She felt so incredibly full. Her body seemed to conduct electricity through thin wires stretching from her fingers to the tips of her toes and all leading back to the apex point of pleasure behind her eyes.

Jae's cock throbbed as his little girl curled her toes against the hardwood floor and reached back clumsily for some kind of hold on him. He loved watching his daughter climax and simply savored the sight of her quaking in front of him, not to mention the way her virgin walls were clenching him as she did. Though her father's cock fit perfectly inside Wonyoung, she was even wetter than before and her juices were dripping from within her.

For the first time, Jae decided to remove himself from his daughter's drenched tunnel. She stood, but only with the support her father gave her. He turned Wonyoung towards him, her head hung low. With a finger at her chin, Jae lifted his daughter's head to look into her eyes.

She looked so pretty, a light sheen of sweat on her brow and flushed cheeks. Wonyoung kept her eyes closed for a moment, but they weren't angry when she finally opened them. They weren't hurt or sad or anything he had expected. Wonyoung had pleaded with him to stop, but as she came back to the world from an earth-shaking orgasm, Wonyoung was glad her father had kept fucking her.

She only looked a little embarrassed, like she hadn't expected to see so much pleasure from having her virginity taken by her father.

"I love you, baby," he told her.

Wonyoung looked at him closely, her big brown eyes holding his gaze for long enough that he was desperate to know what she was thinking.

"I love you, too, Dad."

He kissed her on the cheek, right next to her lips, and lingered there. Wonyoung felt him hesitate and brought her lips close enough to kiss him. Simultaneously, they closed the gap between them and brought their mouths together. Wonyoung kissed her father hungrily, thanking him for the beautiful feelings he'd shown her.

Each peck, each explorative placement of his lips on hers, Wonyoung understood why she wasn't upset with her daddy for continuing to fuck her when he did. Wonyoung's friends seemed to love her father and didn't know him half as well as she did. He was the best father a girl could have, and he was handsome to boot. So many times she had thought of him, alone in her bed at night, but she didn't ever know how he could make her feel. The tingling surface of her skin and her sensitive pussy was more than she had ever dreamt of. Now that she had the chance, why shouldn't she willingly accept her father? Nobody had to know... Wonyoung shivered at the taboo thoughts.

Their tongues darted out to meet each other. Wonyoung didn't have much experience kissing boys, but she loved kissing and making out with her dad. Jae felt like a teenager again and found his hands moving of their own volition to feel the tiny frame of the teenager in his arms. He wanted to be inside her again, but only if she chose to this time.

When her father's hands once again found her perky breasts under the shirt, Wonyoung knew he wanted her to take it off. She readily lifted her arms above her head, surprising her father with her willingness. He quickly obliged her, pulling the shirt off and revealing her young tits to him.

God, she was so gorgeous and irresistible, and her breasts were more prominent and shapelier than her mother's. Jae put his hands on her, and Wonyoung watched closely as they roamed all over her.

"You're so beautiful, Wonyoung," he told her, "and you made me feel wonderful, honey."

As Wonyoung was looking down she caught a glimpse of her father's cock again. It WAS large, and it was silvery with all the wetness she must have covered him in. It was sticking straight upward, and she could feel it bobbing against her leg at a pace that must have been his heartbeat.

"Why is it still so big, Dad?"

"Because I am so turned on looking at you. I'm thinking about making love to you, sweetheart."

Wonyoung shrugged with embarrassment. In doing so, she looked adorable, and her teardrop breasts shook with the motion of her shoulders.

"You want to fuck me again don't you daddy?"

Jae felt guilty. Hearing the naughty words from his little girl's mouth made the deed very real. Still, he shook his head, 'Yes.'

Wonyoung may have been inexperienced, but she knew how dangerous it would be for them to have sex again. In class at her high school, the book showed her how to find out when her period would come and when she was most likely to become pregnant. If she was doing it right, she was right at the best time for her daddy's sperm to find her egg and make her pregnant. And the book had also said always to use protection, like a condom or birth control, and she wasn't using either one.

"What if I just put my mouth on it?" Wonyoung suggested. She felt his penis throb perceptively when she did.

"You like that idea, don't you, Daddy?"

Wonyoung proceeded to get down on her knees and gingerly take her father's erection in her hand. She could still feel her stickiness on him, and she knew more was coming from deep within her.

Wonyoung tested the head of his cock at her lips, looking up at him with her pretty eyes and hoping she did a good job. Slowly she opened her mouth and took in the head of her cock. She sucked on it gently, not minding at all that she could taste herself on him.

The little brunette tried to emulate what her father might have felt when he had his big penis inside of her; she encircled his shaft with both hands and moved them up and down while she lapped at his tip. Her father moaned.

"Oh, honey, you're doing wonderful," he said as he tossed his head back.

Wonyoung sucked on him and tried her best to take more into her mouth. She knew that some girls could take the whole thing, but hard as Wonyoung tried she could get less than half of her father's cock in her mouth. She wondered what it would taste like if he squirted his white stuff into her mouth.

Wonyoung sucked and stroked and like an angel she praised her father with her mouth. He did his best to watch her, though she made him feel so wonderful that he could barely stand at a few points. When he did look at her, the image of her perched in front of him with his cock in her mouth and looking up at her with her soulful, innocent brown eyes...it would be burned in his mind forever. He told her that his daughter was doing a wonderful job for her first time. But hard as she tried, and beautiful as she looked kneeling, Jae had one thing on his mind.

"Baby," he beckoned her, "stand up, let me see you again."

She obeyed him, arising so that her breasts brushed against his abdomen as she did. After admiring her for a few more seconds, Jae wasted no time lifting his daughter onto the island and she knew immediately by the proximity of his cockhead to her entrance what his intentions were.

"Daddy," she warned, "I don't think you should fuck me anymore, it's too risky."

"I promise, sweetie," her father sounded desperate again. I'll be very careful. If I'm very careful, you won't get pregnant. Cross my heart."

"I don't know, Daddy," she continued to protest, "I don't think we should, it's too dangerous right now for my fertility cycle. We'd be in so much trouble!"

"I know, honey, how about I just put the tip in you for a minute?" Jae negotiated. He was already prodding his daughter's mound with his large head, and Wonyoung was beginning to wish he would press harder and keep making her feel good. For a brief moment, the thought of her father's penis shooting his warm sperm into her pussy entered Wonyoung's conflicted brain. She knew it was even more wrong than having an orgasm or sucking her daddy's cock, but what would it feel like? Wonyoung loved her father more than anybody, even her mom; what if he did get her pregnant? She was so confused and wasn't supposed to want it, but this night was unlocking feelings she'd never conceived of before.

"Okay, but only for a minute, right?" Wonyoung relented. She didn't want to sound as eager as her body felt.

Jae didn't respond with words. The waiting had nearly driven him to madness. He pushed his tip against Wonyoung's still very wet lips. They parted and allowed his head to pop into her entry. Once again Jae had the thought that he'd never feel something so good as being inside his daughter's little pussy.

"Ouuwwh, Daddy!" she cried, feeling him inside her again. Her father's tip alone felt bigger in their new position. It hurt a little, but still she watched intently as he withdrew his tip and pushed it into her again. Both gasped as he did so, listening to each other and feeling everything from their incestuous connection between them.

Jae removed and replaced his tip in his teenager's pussy enough times that she lost count. He had gone on longer than promised but wasn't done yet.

"Ohhh fuck Dad," she whimpered, "it feels terrific now!"

Wonyoung's mouth had brought him close, but Jae needed to come more than he ever had before in his life. He dared push his cock a little further into his daughter. She noticed immediately, but assumed it was only an accident.

When he did it again, Wonyoung called him out.

"...Fuuckk," she blurted, "Daddy, you promised."

"I know baby, just a little more!"

Maybe Jae had intended to keep his word, but once he felt her tiny channel more deeply wrapped around his cock, his promises began to evaporate.

He pushed into his daughter again, and then deeper, and then withdrew, and then thrust back in. In a few moments he was fucking his youngest daughter along the full length of his cock. Wonyoung, for all her protest, could not hide how much pleasure it was giving her,

"Oooohhhh Dad... mnnnh fuck... It's so big..."

She certainly didn't sound like she wanted him to stop, and Wonyoung's feet were wrapped around her father's tight core. His abs rippled as he fucked her deeply and ever so gently her heels were pulling him in. She watched in wonder as the tip of her father's penis would peek out from between her lips and then the whole thing disappear entirely into her. She couldn't believe it fit. She lost track of time, but when she looked back at Jae's face, she could see him cringing and focusing hard.

"Okay, Daddy, shouldn't you stop now?"

Instead, she felt him grab on tightly to her hips and squeeze. Wonyoung put her hands on his strong chest, not knowing whether she wanted to push him away or hold on tight. He was much too strong for her; she could do nothing but accept the deliberate thrusts of her father into her. Her hands felt his manly chest instead, the hair upon his pecs and the dampness of sweat from fucking her so well. Did he know how badly she wanted him to continue? Should she keep protesting?

As he held on tightly, Jae could feel his orgasm building. He watched the soft spot between her hips mounding as he buried his cock in her fully before removing it. Her melodic panting and moaning were beginning to be too much for him.

"I'm almost there, sweetheart."

"Alright, dad, please... ouuumphh... It's too risky!"

Wonyoung felt her father pick up speed for a few more thrusts until he squeezed her hips tight and began to tense.

Then she knew what was happening.

"Daddy, no!"

Jae went stiff as soon as he was buried in his young daughter's pussy. He gladly released a first, powerful jet of sperm into Wonyoung's womb. It immediately gave his daughter a jolt. Then another, and another; his tip painted the little girl's walls, her cervix and everywhere it could with his forbidden cum. Whether he had promised to or not, the intensity filling the beautiful teenager felt unquestionably right.

Wonyoung tried to be mad at him, but before she could scold him or yell or even try to push him off, the hot, forbidden sensation of what she knew was her father's semen made her quake from the inside out. Like before, Wonyoung's body trembled, her skin crawled and her insides squeezed more cum from her father's buried cock. It was the most wonderful feeling, and her second orgasm rocked her more powerfully than the first. It was so wrong that her daddy's cum squirting into her was making her quake with so much pleasure.

Jae shakily withdrew an inch of his embedded member from his daughter's insides and then roughly pushed it back in. His cock emitted another rope into her fertile and unprotected womb.

He had never felt so invigorated and so satisfied, and Jae was quite certain that he'd never cum so much in his life as he just had inside his daughter. Wonyoung wrapped her arms around his neck when her orgasm had struck her and was, willingly or not, still quivering as the last bit of her father's seed dribbled from his head and topped off her overfilled pussy.

His daughter held onto him, overwhelmed by the climax she hadn't expected and the incestuous load she now carried inside her. The sheer amount of it, and the feeling of her father's cum was unlike anything she'd ever felt and still his hard cock was filling her the rest of the way.

"Daddy...you promised," Wonyoung pouted as she met his eyes with hers.

"I know, baby, you were just too sexy... I had to!" Her father reasoned.

She was still mad, though his tactics to win her weren't completely lost.

"You lied to me! You said you wouldn't cum inside my pussy and then you came so much!"

Wonyoung was right; he could feel his semen all over his buried rod. He knew that if Wonyoung had been telling the truth, his little swimmers would soon make their way even deeper into his daughter, and she could conceive his child. He looked down to see it.

Jae pulled his cock, still hard, from within his daughter's sensitive hole, watching her tremble as he did so. As soon as his head was revealed, white, milky cum pushed its way around him. As he fully disengaged, his load cascaded from within her deflowered pussy.

Wonyoung's eyes went wide.

"Oh my God, Daaaad! There's sooo much!" She sounded more amazed than upset.

"Quick, daddy, get it out before I get pregnant!" Wonyoung cried, reaching down to where his cum was dripping from within her.

Jae took his daughter's hand tenderly instead, "It's too late for that, honey."

Wonyoung felt so conflicted. She was worried, but only because people like her mother and that awful teacher in her sex education class told her she should be. Yet her daddy didn't look worried at all. As he took her hand and pulled her up toward him, Wonyoung was already feeling much better. They kissed lovingly, neither fully believing the wonderful, forbidden, and life-changing thing they'd just shared.

"What should we do, Daddy?"

Jae looked down at his daughter's young and freshly-fucked opening. Seeing that his cum was about to flow onto the granite countertop, Jae made a quick decision. He'd only once accomplished it with his wife, but he thought his odds were better with a beautiful girl whom he loved far more. Could he fuck his daughter again while his defiant member bobbed, still rock hard, tantalizingly close to Wonyoung's cute little slit?

Jae dared to scoop up the stream of his cum that had leaked out with his cock head and push it back into his daughter's pussy. He was too turned on to stop fucking his beautiful little girl yet. She shrieked with sensitivity.

Usually, even the faintest touch would send a shiver up Jae's spine, and it did, but he kept fucking her. Feeling the lubrication of his fresh cum easing his path into his daughter he decided to press on.

"Ohhhhh Daddy... ohhh pleaaase... It's too sensitive... fuckkkkk!" his little girl cried.

Jae had been here before, and his desire to follow through prevailed. He cringed and he bucked, but he was determined to fuck his little Wonyoung until he was utterly spent. It was not long until he could feel his balls, unbelievably, building toward a second consecutive orgasm.

Wonyoung had been so overwhelmed by her father's actions that she hadn't the chance to look, but when she finally did she could tell that her daddy was going to cum inside her again, and so soon after he just had the first time!

"Ohhhh fuck daddy... twice?" Wonyoung was about ready to pass out. "You can't cum in my pussy again!"

He didn't answer, with a labored series of grunts and moans, Jae once more buried his cock as deep as it would go and unloaded another sizable amount of semen into his little girl. Jet after jet, he added his cum to her already charged insides. He held her tight and Wonyoung watched him intently as he came. Though he was doing exactly what he'd promised not to, seeing her father so wholly give himself into his desires, and knowing that she had been his lover through it all, warmed her more than the multiple loads of her father's seed she now held within her.

Before he allowed his whole body to go limp, Jae lifted his baby off the kitchen counter and lay down on the nearby area rug with her on top of him. He didn't pull out of her. He didn't want to ever again.

Wonyoung and her father lay in the dark for an untold time. As they drank each other in, the teen's soft breasts pressed against Jae, and he felt her breathing deeply. She seemed tinier when draped over him as she was. His baby girl... completely naked and still with his softening cock inside of her... the thought was incredible to behold.

The young brunette propped her head up on her hands, the hairs on her father's chest tickling her palms. She looked up at him. She could tell he was utterly drained, and she could feel his cum slowly making its way out of her sore pussy.

"You're bad, daddy!" Wonyoung said.

Jae opened his eyes and peered down at her. Expecting her to be upset, or sad, or something of the like, he was surprised to see a naughty grin on his pretty daughter's face. Confused, Jae furrowed his brow and replied:

"You're not mad at me?," hoping she wasn't.

"Wellllllllll..." she teased him, tilting her head and making him wait for her answer, "you did take my virginity, daddy..."

"I know, baby, I had no idea... I didn't even know it was you... I never would have..."

"Hmmmph!" Wonyoung interrupted, "You never would have? You seemed like you liked fucking me Dad..."

She was goading him now. That girl he knew was a little rambunctious, definitely with a naughty streak.

"I see the way you look at me sometimes. I'm not stupid, Daddy." He didn't know what to say to his little girl, but she was right. "I think about you sometimes, too, Dad..."

Jaee raised his eyebrows, "You do?"

"Every once in a while... when I'm in bed and can't fall asleep. My friends talk about you all the time, I can't help it!" she told him. Knowing that his daughter thought about him that way made the fact that he'd just fucked her seem a little better. "But I never thought you would put your big thing in me when I was just looking in the refrigerator, like totally out of the blue!" she exclaimed.

"I swear it was an accident, sweetheart, I didn't mean to startle you," Jae reiterated

"And what about all this cum daddy? It's dripping out 'cause you put so much in me! Was it an accident when you came in my pussy...? TWICE!?" He could tell now that she was just playing with him. She reached between them where it was seeping out of her. Jae watched, incredulous, as she took a finger and swept some of it from the stream that had made its way out from her tight little tunnel. Without hesitation, she brought it up, looked at it curiously, and then popped her finger in her mouth, tasting it and swallowing his excess semen like it was no big deal.

Jae looked at her sideways, "Okay, maybe that wasn't an accident..." he admitted, "but you don't look so upset, baby."

Wonyoung smiled, licking her lips. "...maybe because I'm not."

Her father smiled too. He slid her little body up so her lips could meet his, and they kissed. Firs,t Wonyoung just pecked at him, but shortly thereafter, they were making out again and playfully dancing their tongues about. When they broke apart, Wonyoung laid her head next to her father's.

"You know I'm not on birth control, right, Daddy?"

"Yes, I know." Jae said with an 'oops' look on his face.

Wonyoung giggled, "And you still squirted all that sperm in me, even when I told you how easily I could get pregnant?"

"Yeaaah... I did, didn't I?" Jae replied playfully.

"Hmmm..." his little girl sighed, "That would be so naughty, wouldn't it, Dad? You could have gotten me pregnant already!"

The possibility didn't scare him like he thought it would. An image of Wonyoung, his favorite daughter, with her beautiful black hair and brown eyes staring at him, the bulge of his child in her belly. She would look so lovely with that tiny body and his baby inside of her.

"We can go to the store tomorrow if you want, sweetie. We can get a pill that makes sure you don't get pregnant."

"Oh," Wonyoung said, sounding disappointed. Or...? " she asked nervously.

"Or what, honey?" Jae asked, totally confused.

"What if I don't take the pill?" Wonyoung said with an embarrassed shrug. She hoped her father wouldn't be mad at her suggestion.

Wonyoung thought he looked surprised, but then his eyes were full of love. "Well...I don't know... I mean I..." Jae stuttered, feeling smitten that his daughter would suggest something he'd only fantasized about.

Wonyoung thought it was cute that her dad was trying to pretend when she could so clearly tell that the thought appealed to him. "I guess we'd wait a little while. You'd miss your period, your belly would grow, and then we'd know you're carrying your daddy's baby."

Wonyoung's brown eyes were opened wide, waiting for him to say more. The corners of her mouth turned upward, and she looked adorably curious. Jae could hardly say no to his little girl, but this was entirely different. Thoughts were racing through his head, not least of which how wonderful it felt to have his naked little daughter draped over him as they spoke; that he'd never have another child with his wife; that he fully intended on fucking Wonyoung every chance she allowed him. If she was willing, she'd be perfectly fertile and healthy to make a baby with him.

"Do you think you might want that Wonyoung?" he paused, "I know you'd look so pretty with our baby growing in your belly."

Wonyoung giggled and bit the tip of her finger. "I think I might, Daddy, but I don't know for sure. It makes me so happy thinking about it that I'm tingling, but..." She was obviously working hard to wrap her head around it.

"You don't have to decide no,w honey, and nobody would know for a few months," Jae assured her.

Wonyoung knew that she loved her father more than life itself. For month,s she had been taking on her mother's role in his life, and she did so knowingly. He had confided in her, held her like a lover when she was down, even taken her out on dates. She was now awakened to the thought that she could truly be her daddy's forever. Her mom couldn't have her father's babies anymore, but she certainly could. Wonyoung was starting to allow the thought that she wanted to, badly.

"I graduate soon, daddy," she reasoned, "would anybody at school have to know?"

"No, sweetie. It could be our secret." He couldn't believe he was considering it.

"And then what?" Wonyoung continued.

"And then... well..." her father looked deep in thought. I don't have it all figured out yet, Wonyoung, but I'd do anything for you, no matter what."

Wonyoung felt so completely enveloped in his love that she ached for him. Her little pussy was much too sore to accept him again that night, but Wonyoung had never felt such desire for a man before then. It was as if their little accident had brought out a part of her she never knew existed, locked in tight by her virginity: the part that wanted her daddy to be her lover, to be his again and again, and to become pregnant with his child whether the world said she could or not.

"How about we talk about it more in the morning?" Jae suggested.

"Okay, daddy, but we'll have to be extra careful." Wonyoung was very surprised and felt lucky nobody had heard them making love. Most of her family were heavy sleepers, but she had certainly been making a lot of noise as her father impaled her in the kitchen. It was also funny to Wonyoung that she suggested being careful when so much good had come from her father not being careful, cumming in her vulnerable little pussy with no condom.

They kissed again. It was a long one, and different than before. They both intended to build upon an unspoken promise of more, a deeper love. Wonyoung knew she wasn't supposed to feel that way about her father, and Jae about his little girl, but neither cared. Taking their relationship to such heights had primarily been by accident. But the sexual tension between them had been broken by the forbidden seed Wonyoung carried inside her, and they kissed with an unhinged passion most could never know.

Jae picked up his daughter easily. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, and he slowly carried the cute brunette up the stairs toward her room. They could both feel his cum seeping from Wonyoung, telling definitively of their act. Their naked bodies holding each other tight and the looks they exchanged were evidence enough.

Jae gently sat his daughter on the bed, and she held on tight, not wanting him to leave her. She watched lovingly as her father pulled the covers back and slipped into bed with her.

"I love you so much, Daddy," she told him sincerely. I was nervous at first, but I don't regret anything that happened."

"I love you, too, baby, and I want you to know that I will be here to ensure everything turns out okay."

"I know you will," Wonyoung said adorably, holding her father tight as she drifted off to sleep.

Not long into her slumber, she felt her father leave quietly. Feeling hurt, she reasoned that he probably needed to return to her mother's bed so they wouldn't get found out. Still, she felt jealous, wanting him only for herself.

But the door to her room opened again, and back came her father.

He saw her eyes open and hurt. " You thought I was leaving you, didn't you, sweetie?"

"I know you need to, I just don't want to sleep without you tonight," she admitted.

"I had to clean up our little mess," he explained, holding up their discarded clothing. "...probably not a good thing for your mother to see our clothes all over the floor or how wet you made the kitchen table, right?"

Wonyoung smiled guiltily, "Definitely not! I suppose I shouldn't tell her that daddy came in my pussy without a condom on TWO times tomorrow at breakfast?"

"No, you probably shouldn't mention that," Jae laughed. He wrapped his arm around his naked daughter and pulled her tight to him. "Now get some sleep, honey."

Wonyoung cuddled up to him with the biggest smile on her face. A naughty little part of her hoped that he meant to get some sleep because she would need it. Her recently filled pussy was still recovering, but Wonyoung knew she'd want her daddy to fuck her again before too long.

Jae had fallen asleep deep in thought, planning what to do next. With his beautiful daughter nuzzled against him, he felt certain that everything would be different. They had a whole new life ahead of them.

As they drifted off, Wonyoung's young womb was also striving to make a new life. By morning, she could already have conceived her father's child. For now, it was enough that the beautiful teenager could fall asleep, cradled in the arms of her loving father. Tomorrow was another day; they could spend it and many more tomorrows falling more deeply in love. Wonyoung was so young that it could be many months before her belly showed evidence of the night they had shared... or those to come.

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