#we were talking for a while and he was inviting MY friends to a party ?????? helpppppp

[snapbackslide]

i don't speak swedish but i agree

[djungleskogs]

found out literally like most of my coworkers have been friends outside of work this entire time….

[marvelstoriesepic]

Supposed Distraction

Pairing: College!Athlete!Bucky x College!Reader

Summary: It’s Bucky’s birthday and you and your friends are planning a surprise party. That leaves you with the task to distract him while the others prepare.

Prompt 1: “I think we need to talk.”

Prompt 2: “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

Prompt 3: “Kiss me.”

Word Count: 7.6k

Warnings: friends to lovers; reader is embarrassed and rather terrible at attempting to distract Bucky; Bucky is smug; Bucky is worried; Sam and Steve are idiots; feels; pining; tension; Bucky is a sweetheart

Author’s Note: This is another entry for the lovely cinema themed writing challenge by @elixirfromthestars ♡ I hope you’re not getting tired of me participating, my dear, but I couldn’t help it. Especially since you were the one inspiring me to write this about college!bucky. I'll have to thank you for that!! Hope you enjoy! ♡

Masterlist

You always knock four times.

It’s instinctive at this point, muscle memory more than conscious thought. You don’t even remember when or how it started, but it's always fours knocks.

The door swings open within seconds, revealing Bucky’s easy and bright grin. He leans against the frame, arms crossed over his broad chest, hair slightly tousled, perhaps from running his hands through it. God, he looks great.

“Hey, doll,” he greets, voice warm. “You’re early.”

You arch a brow, stepping past him when he shifts to let you in. “It’s your birthday, Buck. What kind of friend would I be if I left you alone, huh?”

Bucky exhales a short sigh, but his smile stays in place. “Told you, it’s not a big deal.”

“‘Course it is, Buck,” you argue, almost indignant at the thought. Because if anyone deserves a day where people get to celebrate him, it’s James Buchanan Barnes.

But he doesn’t make much of his birthday. He doesn’t like attention when he hasn’t earned it.

It’s why he loves the mound, standing there under stadium lights with all eyes on him, but loathes things like this - birthdays, personal praise, anything that forces him into a spotlight just for existing. You suppose that’s just part of who he is.

You saw him earlier, in university. You shared one class today. He walked in a few minutes late, baseball cap pulled low, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder.

You had been waiting for him, barely able to contain your excitement as you nearly launched yourself at him in the hallway with a cheerful happy birthday, Bucky!

He had only blinked, slightly startled at your enthusiasm before huffing out a laugh when you crushed him in a tight hug. But he hadn’t complained, only chuckled softly, winding his arms around you and pressing his hands to your back, waiting for you to be the first to pull away again.

You told him he'd receive his present later the day with a grin and Bucky only rolled his eyes with a fond smile, letting you have your moment.

But what Bucky doesn’t know is that there is a surprise party awaiting him later, planned by you and your shared group of friends - because somebody has to make sure that today doesn’t pass like it is just another day.

Sam’s apartment is the only logical choice, given that his roommate dropped out and no one had rushed to fill the space yet. That means lots of room, plus an open invitation to make a mess.

The only issue is that Sam’s apartment is directly across the hall from Bucky and Steve’s.

Which means you have been assigned a very specific task - keep Bucky in his apartment until it’s time.

Not that you had much say in the matter. The moment the question came up about who would be the one distracting him that long, every pair of eyes landed on you.

You are his best friend, but - and that’s how you see it - so is everyone else. Still, they seemed to believe that you could hold his attention for long enough, that you could keep him engaged enough not to notice the shuffle of footsteps and suspicious voices beyond his door. That it would be you who he doesn’t mind having around, lingering in his space.

Honestly, you didn’t argue.

There is not a reason as to why you should. Any excuse to spend time with Bucky is a good one.

After all, you love the guy. But that’s a problem for another day.

You drop your bag on the worn-out armchair by the window, the same spot you always claim when you are here.

Bucky’s jacket is slung over the back of the chair, and the second your bag lands on it, the scent of his cologne drifts up - clean, something woodsy, something him. It distracts you for a second, but then you turn to face him again.

He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans after closing the door again.

“Where’s Steve?” you ask casually, like you don’t already know he is across the hall, making sure everything is set up for the surprise. But you don’t know what he told Bucky.

“He said somethin’ about running some drills with the rookies, helping out the coach, or whatever,” Bucky answers, tilting his head in that unconcerned way. He slowly makes his way toward you. “Guess one of them nearly took his own damn head off trying to hit a curveball.”

One of your brows lifts amused. “And Steve’s the guy to fix that?”

Bucky smirks. “Well, y’know how he is. Someone fucks up a throw, suddenly he’s gotta be the one to teach ‘em how to do it right.” He shakes his head, like the whole thing is ridiculous.

“Yeah, sounds like Steve,” you state, trying to suppress a knowing smile.

You lean your hip against the kitchen counter, arms loosely crossed, trying to keep it casual. The apartment is small, with the kitchen bleeding into the living space, a single couch, and a coffee table taking up a lot of the room. You love it.

“So, what do you feel like doing?” You tip your head toward him. “You’re the birthday boy, you get to decide.”

Bucky scoffs, lips curling, finding your antics amusing. But then, he actually seems to consider it. His hands slip from his pockets, arms crossing as he leans back slightly against the table. His gaze falls to the window. Sunlight spills in, casting golden lines across the floor and making your hair gleam.

“You wanna go get some ice cream or somethin’?” he suggests. “It’s warm out.”

You blink, caught off guard. Bucky isn’t usually the one to propose going out. It takes a little coaxing most days, a push to get him moving and leave his apartment to meet your group of friends somewhere outside. You wonder what he would have said if anyone else were the one distracting him.

But you can’t take him up on it. Because you can’t let him leave and potentially find out.

“Uh-no,” you say, a little too quickly, a little too firmly.

Bucky’s brows lift, a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. “No?” He huffs a laugh, shifting his weight onto one foot, arms still folded. His voice takes on that slow, teasing drawl. “You just asked me what I wanna do, doll. Thought I got to decide? Y’know, birthday and all that.”

You just started this distracting thing and you are already messing up. Great.

You scramble for a way to walk it back, to keep him here without making it obvious. “Yeah, you know, I just-” You glance around as if the answer is hidden somewhere in the room. “Why don’t we stay inside?”

Bucky watches you, eyes narrowing just slightly, trying to puzzle you out. He doesn’t look suspicious. But there is a curiosity in it.

“Why?” he drags the word out, tilting his head. “Something wrong with ice cream? We could also go get some tacos maybe-”

“No! Nothing’s wrong with ice cream.” You force a laugh, waving your hand dismissively. “I just figured we could chill here for a bit.” You bite your lip, then continue. “We could bake you a cake?”

You would love to face-palm yourself right now.

Why would you even say that?

There will be plenty of cake at the party. Cake that’s already been ordered, picked out, baked yourself, and waiting across the hall. And yet, here you are, offering something completely unnecessary, completely ridiculous.

God, you are terrible at this.

Bucky’s blue eyes are on you, considering, lips parting, about to say something.

Panic rises.

“Or not,” you blurt, stepping forward too fast, too sudden, hands coming up in a vague, dismissive gesture. “Yeah, maybe not. That’s dumb. Forget I said anything.”

You shift where you stand, fingers twitching at your sides. You don’t get nervous around Bucky - at least, not like this. But something hot and uncomfortable starts to creep up the back of your neck.

A slow smirk pulls at Bucky’s mouth as he watches you with so much amusement in his eyes, enjoying whatever the hell this is turning into.

“You alright over there, doll?” he asks, voice warm, teasing.

You scoff, rolling your eyes, trying to keep your cool. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure?” He tilts his head, a lock of dark hair falling into his eyes. “Cause you’re actin’ a little funny.”

You open your mouth, a retort or something like it ready, but Bucky suddenly leans in just a fraction, gaze sweeping over your face like he is searching for something. And yeah shit, you need to shut this down. Now. Or you’ll be a hot mess on the floor.

“Just forget it.” You shrug and then move away from him, toward the fridge, suddenly very interested in whatever’s inside. “You want something to drink?”

You don’t look back at him immediately, don’t give him a chance to see the way you feel your face warm up. Instead, you grab two small bottles of orange juice, shoving one in his direction as a distraction.

Bucky takes it easily, but that amused smirk does not waver a tiny bit. He is still watching you.

Bucky is no idiot. And if you’re not careful, he’s going to catch on fast.

You twist the cap of the bottle a little forcefully, the plastic groaning in your grip. The cold of it seeps into your palm, but it’s not enough to steady the way your heart is beating a little too fast. Taking a sip of the juice, you try to swallow past the lump in your throat.

He has always been observant. Even more so when it comes to you. You wish, just this once, that he'd be a little more dense.

“You gonna tell me what’s up with you today?” he asks, voice colored with curiosity, dipping just enough into concern that you flinch internally.

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

It’s defensive, but all it does is amuse him. His lips curve, his brows shoot high, the lines on his forehead creasing in exaggerated surprise.

Leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, his own bottle loosely held in one hand, he tips his head back and studies you. “That how we’re playin’ it, huh?”

You shrug, taking another sip of your juice, using the movement as an excuse to break eye contact. But you know it does not deter him.

Bucky makes a thoughtful noise, shifting his weight. “Y’know,” he drones out, tone lazy but eyes sharp and smirk sly. “Usually when people get all cagey like this, it means they’re hidin’ something.”

You shoot him a hopefully flat look. “Wow, Barnes. That’s some real detective work. You want to get a notepad? Maybe a magnifying glass?”

His smirk widens. He seems thoroughly entertained. You don’t like it.

“Depends,” he teases, leaning in just a fraction. “Do I need ‘em?”

Your pulse spikes. Bastard.

With an obvious eye roll that unfortunately lacks the conviction you tried to portray, you cross the room, shoulders set, and let yourself drop into the armchair where your bag still rests with a heavy thud. The cushions soften the impact. Trying to feign the usual comfort you feel sitting here, you tuck one leg under the other, leaning back. Your hands tighten around the still cold bottle of juice.

Bucky doesn’t move right away. He is still standing by the counter, bottle in hand, eyes never leaving you.

“Do you want to watch something?” you ask, reaching for the remote, already trying to steer this back into safe waters.

Bucky exhales through his nose, humor lining the corners of his eyes. His stance is easy and relaxed, but he looks at you like he knows something is off.

“Is this me deciding?” he muses, voice smooth. “Or are you just gonna tell me no again?”

There is no accusation in his tone, just that familiar Brooklyn drawl that makes everything sound like an inside joke.

He finally moves, dragging his body toward the couch. He doesn’t plop down like you did. He settles himself with intent and leans forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, his entire focus trained on you like you are the most interesting thing in the room.

You swallow.

“You’ll get to decide,” you promise, trying for nonchalance.

Bucky glances at the dark TV screen, then back at you.

“Nah,” he claims. “Let’s talk.”

Your stomach drops.

Bucky never lets things go when he is curious. You see the spark in his eyes, the glint of amusement, the way the corners of his mouth twitch with that smirk. He knows you are acting weird. Maybe he doesn’t know why, but he sure as hell knows something is up and he is going to dig.

You inhale deeply, fighting the urge to groan. But all you do is force a casual shrug, stretching your arms over your head before letting them drop back into your lap. “What do you want to talk about?”

Your fingers fidget with the label on the bottle, a nervous little movement you don’t mean to make. Bucky’s gaze flickers down to your hands and you freeze, immediately stilling them, letting the bottle rest in your lap and shoving your hands between your thighs.

His eyes snap back to yours, lips curving up.

“You,” he says simply.

You roll your eyes, feigning playful annoyance, because if you don’t, you might actually combust on the spot. “Oh, come on,” you scoff.

For the next few minutes, you actually manage to let a conversation drift to normal things. The familiar back-and-forth. You talk about classes, you being annoyed at that one professor who has a habit of trailing off mid-lecture, forgetting what he is actually supposed to talk about. Bucky tells you about his brutal morning training session that left half the team groaning like old men.

You bring up his next baseball game, the one you won’t be able to make because of an assignment, and Bucky whines.

He doesn’t just complain a little but rather goes on about it for minutes on end. Arms flailing, huffing dramatically, groaning like you just told him his dog died.

“You could just skip,” he protests, lounging back into the couch.

“I can’t just skip, Bucky.”

“But I need my lucky charm,” he laments, throwing his head back against the cushion as if this is some great tragedy.

You roll your eyes but there is warmth rising in your chest. “I’m sorry, Buck. But I did come to all your games last month.”

“Yeah, which is why you owe me,” Bucky retorts, sitting up again, gesturing with his hands. “I hit a homer 'cause you were there. What if I suck without you?”

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” you laugh, but Bucky grumbles under his breath, not quite over it.

It starts to feel normal. Easy. You begin to believe that you might actually pull this off. That you can keep him here, keep him occupied, long enough for your friends across the hall to finish setting up.

But then a loud thump echoes from the hallway.

Your spine goes rigid.

Bucky’s head snaps up, his grin replaced with a furrowed brow.

Another thud.

Yeah, so, that was that.

You fumble for your phone and type out a quick text to Sam.

Y: What are you guys doing out there?

The reply comes almost immediately.

S: Just keep Barnes inside.

You would love to curse loudly right now. Because thank you for nothing, Sam.

Bucky is already standing.

“What are you doing?” you ask, standing up as well, your voice perhaps a little sharper than usual.

Bucky glances at you briefly. There is a tiny bit of concern in his eyes. “There’s something goin’ on out there.” He gestures toward the door. “Think I should check. Might be Miss Nelly.”

Something clenches in your gut.

Miss Nelly, the sweet older woman who lives next door to him and Steve. The one they always help carry groceries up the stairs. The one who has trouble with her hip sometimes. If Bucky thinks she might have fallen, or perhaps tried to carry something on her own, of course, he wants to check.

But that is not what is happening out there.

You rush to step between him and the door. “Let me check.”

Bucky shakes his head. “You wait here, doll. I’ll be back in a sec-”

But you don’t let him finish.

You throw the door open and basically slam it shut behind you before he can follow.

Yes, that was perhaps a little rude. Yes, that will probably only make him more suspicious. Yes, you could have come up with something better. But you certainly did not have the time to think about what exactly.

Right outside, Sam and Steve are standing there - in front of the open door to Sam's apartment where a chair lays with its backside on the floor - wide-eyed, looking about as guilty as two kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

You would have laughed at the sight if not for the fact that you just slammed Bucky’s own apartment door basically in his face without an explanation.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” you hiss, voice low, exasperated.

Sam lifts his hands in a calm down gesture. “Listen-”

“No, you listen,” you snap, whisper-shouting, barely resisting the urge to grab them by their collars and shake them. “He’s two seconds away from walking out that door.”

Steve grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. “We, uh, we miscalculated.”

“Miscalculated?” you repeat, eyes narrowing.

They both exchange a glance.

You sigh in frustration. “Where’s Nat?”

“Out with Bruce getting drinks,” Steve answers, folding his arms. “Wanda, Clint, and Laura are inside, decorating.”

“Look,” Sam starts, raising a brow. “We’re bustin’ our asses for this dickhead, and you’re the one who came up with the whole thing in the first place.”

“That’s not-”

“So you gotta do your part. Go back in and stall him some more” A grin spreads across his face and he waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “I don’t know - offer him a good time.”

Your eyes narrow, hands on your hips. “Sam.”

Steve sighs, shaking his head, but there is an unmistakable smirk tugging at his lips.

You glare at them both, spinning on your heel before they can make this worse, yanking the door open and stepping back inside the apartment.

Bucky is exactly where you left him.

Arms crossed. Eyebrows raised. Lips parted slightly, caught between confusion and suspicion.

He is wearing that what the hell was that expression.

You swallow and shut the door more forcefully than necessary, the sound echoing slightly.

Bucky doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just fixes you with a stare so focused, so piecing, seemingly able to look right through you. It makes you shift where you stand, suddenly hyper-aware of every nervous tick in your body.

“Alright,” he starts slowly, carefully, eyes falling to the door before turning back to you. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Not Miss Nelly,” you quip, attempting a light and assuring tone.

It does not work.

Bucky still doesn’t blink. His jaw works. He doesn’t buy a damn thing you’re trying to sell him.

“No, doll.” His voice is lower now, thoughtful, putting together a puzzle in his head. “What’s going on with you?”

You try to press down the lump in your throat.

“You’re actin’ real weird.” His words aren’t harsh, not even accusing. Just observant.

He cocks his head slightly.

Why did the others think you could withstand the way his eyes root you to the spot without flopping down to the ground as a puddle.

You are so screwed.

You push yourself out of the conversation, walking over to the armchair again and trying to find something to keep you busy while plopping down.

“It’s nothing, Bucky.”

Your fingers curl around the juice bottle, bringing it to your lips, but the cold liquid doesn’t do much to cool the heat crawling up your spine. Your thumb works at the label, picking at the paper until it peels away in small, curling strips.

Bucky blows out a breath, rubbing a hand down his face before slowly making his way over to you.

Crouching in front of you, he braces his forearms on his knees, his eyes intently locked onto you.

The sudden closeness forces you to suck in a breath and your fingers tighten around the bottle in your hands.

His expression shifts again, humor creeping into the smirk on his mouth. “Doll,” he starts, voice light, amused. His hands slide up to rest on either side of your chair, effectively caging you in. “Did you plan somethin’ for me?”

Shit.

Your next inhale is a little hesitant. The air thickens. “No.” It sounds too stiff.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. He is smirking so wide. Enjoying this so much, the way you squirm in your seat before him.

You push forward, shaking your head. “No, Buck. I did not.”

“You sure?” He almost laughs.

“Yes, I just-” You are floundering, drowning in your own words. How can you save this now?

“I’m nervous.” Well, at least that’s not a lie.

Bucky’s expression softens immediately, his amusement fading into something quieter. He straightens up, tilting his head tenderly. His full attention is on you.

A gentle crease in his brows forms. “Why are you nervous, sweetheart?” His voice is softer now, lower.

And guilt hits you.

How do you get out of this?

But, hell, he is so close, too close. His eyes are so blue, too blue. His gaze is so intense, too intense. You are feeling hot, too hot - your brain isn’t working, it’s overheating, and your mouth is suddenly moving.

“Because.” Shut up, shut up, shut up. “Because I think we need to talk.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

The entirety of Bucky shifts and you just want the ground to eat you up right this second.

Because now he looks so worried. So genuinely concerned.

You feel yourself start to sweat. Where is this going? Why can’t you stop this? Why did you even start it?

Bucky’s face drops to a frown so deep, lines are forming. A hand of his moves, palm landing lightly on your knee.

“We can talk, doll.” His voice is even softer now, barely above a murmur. “Is something wrong? You alright?”

You just stare at him.

Your heart is hammering.

What the hell are you doing?

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as your fingers keep worrying at the torn label, peeling off strips that crumple beneath your fingertips. It’s the only thing you want to focus on right now with Bucky’s proximity and his intense gaze.

But then his hands replace the bottle and he grasps your fingers, wrapping around them and stilling their fidgeting.

Something electric rushes through your veins so quickly, you couldn’t catch it if you tried.

This is getting way too serious.

Too intimate in a way that sends your pulse skittering up your throat.

You feel like a deer caught in headlights, your body tensing up, lungs forgetting how to work properly. Because this is veering dangerously off course, heading straight for a conversation you’re not sure you’re ready to have. You never thought you’d ever be ready.

But you started this. You walked straight into it with your own words, and there is no backing out now. So you might as well be honest now.

No time like the present.

Bucky must feel the way your hands begin to tremble in his hold, because he adjusts again, shifting closer, his knees pressing against the base of your chair. His thumbs trace over the backs of your hands. His frown deepens.

Why does he have to be so worried? It would make things so much easier if he remained casual and easy. But really, that’s how Bucky always is. Worrying so fast when it comes to you. You can’t really blame this on him now, can you?

His voice drops lower, soft as a whisper. “What is it, sweetheart?” His eyes are full and searching. “Talk to me.”

Air hitches, stalling between your ribs before pushing forward in a rather trembling exhale. Your lungs barely feel full. Your eyes dart away from his, searching the room, the floor, anywhere but him.

“Did I upset you? Is it something I did-”

“No!” you rush out, hastily. “No, you didn’t do anything, Buck.” God, now he even goes that far. This is bad.

Bucky softens a tiny fraction, but he keeps sweeping his eyes over your face, latching on the details, trying to study you, trying to read what this is about. “You can tell me, doll. Always. Whatever it is,” he coos so sweetly, and it makes you want to cry.

How do you even start this?

You open your mouth. You’re certainly not ready to climb the whole mountain, but perhaps you can try a small hill.

“Do you-” You swallow, trying to sound as if you are simply reminiscing. “Do you remember that time after your game last year when it started pouring the second we left the stadium?”

Bucky blinks at the sudden turn. Confusion enters his features but the worry only deepens. “What?”

You push forward, gaze fixed on the arm of your chair as if it might give you the courage you need. “You gave me your jersey, even though I already had a jacket and you were the one soaking wet-”

Bucky’s brows pull further together, his head shaking slowly, not knowing what to do with your words. “Doll-”

“You walked me all the way back to my apartment.” Your voice turns quieter as if you are speaking more to yourself than him. Perhaps you are. Saying those things out loud makes them seem so much more important. “And then you got sick for three days.”

His hands squeeze yours gently. “I mean- Yeah, I remember.” Confusion also settles in his tone. “But what’s that got to do with-”

“I don’t know,” you cut in quickly. “I just-” You exhale a deep sigh. “I think about that a lot.”

Bucky says your name like it is something delicate. Something that might slip away if he is not careful.

“Look at me, please.”

You try, but it’s hard.

It means staring into those impossibly blue eyes that see too much, that strip you bare without even trying, that try to coax something out of you, you didn’t even plan on letting go.

But you force yourself to lift your gaze and it is worse than you expected.

He is watching you with an intensity that makes you stop breathing. His stormy eyes are so full of concern, so desperate to understand what is going on in your head, searching every inch of your face.

His lips are parted slightly. His breathing is sharper. Uneven.

“What’s going on, hm?” he coaxes, so softly, so full of patience you don’t deserve. “What’s this about? You still feelin’ guilty?”

Your heart plummets like a stone.

“Doll, there’s no need to, alright?” His hands squeeze yours, grounding, reassuring. “We talked about this.”

God, why does he have to be so good?

His voice is so warm. Warm like sunlight, like home. It makes the sting behind your eyes grow stronger.

You don’t want to cry.

You don’t want to feel this way. Don’t want to ruin his fucking birthday like this. This is getting so out of hand right now, but what should you do? You are so tangled up in trying to figure out what to say, things you are too much of a coward to finally admit out loud.

Bucky notices your struggles. He sees them. Plain on your face. His thumbs brush over your skin in careful strokes. “And you took such good care of me.” His tone lightens, trying to pull you out of whatever hole you’re sinking into. “Remember that part?”

You nod, swallowing and swallowing but the clump of emotions stays stuck in your throat. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out flat, like you are detached from it. “I do. Sorry for bringing it up.”

Bucky’s lips press together, and then he sighs so deeply, his chest rises and falls profoundly.

“Doll,” he murmurs, straightening up, arms beside you tensing as though he is holding himself back from doing something. “That’s not what you wanted to talk about.”

He’s right.

“Darlin’, please,” he urges, and god, the way that word falls from his lips makes you shudder. His voice is barely above a whisper now, full of something genuine, something tender, something that makes him sound like he wishes you would just talk to him, and it makes you want to shrink down to something he can’t see anymore. “What is it?”

You could lie. Again.

You could laugh it off, steer the conversation away, keep pretending.

You could drag this out further until the others are ready, leaving him worried and slightly upset.

You could tell him the truth about the party.

Or you could finally come clean about the feelings you have held in your heart for so long. Feelings for your best friend.

Drawing in a breath, you straighten slightly. Your hands, still held in his, still shaking, squeeze back. His eyes never waver from your face, tracing the contours of your features.

You clear your throat, but it doesn’t help much. “Uhm,” you croak. “I- I wanted- I need to tell you something.”

His fingers twitch around yours. His features fall into a deep concentration. He doesn’t rush you. Just watches. Waits.

And god, his eyes are pools you never learned to swim in.

You look away, at the wall behind him. “I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while now, I guess. But-” You inhale a quivering breath. “But I was afraid. Because I don’t know how you’ll react.”

Bucky doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. His chest rises and falls deeply, almost mechanically. There is something almost spellbound in the way he stares at you, completely locked in, completely yours. The only sign that he has heard you is the subtle press of his fingers against yours.

His head dips in a nod for you to go on.

You wet your lips. “I, uhm-”

But then something catches your attention.

The door to Bucky’s and Steve’s apartment opens.

Painstakingly slow.

You stiffen.

Bucky is still so enamored with what you were saying, he doesn’t seem to notice at first. His back is to the door.

You see heads peeking through the small gap, cautious, bodies frozen in an awkward crouch as if that makes them less noticeable.

Steve and Sam.

They are trying to slip in without a sound, their movements so unbelievably slow, exaggerated. They resemble cartoon characters sneaking through a heist.

Sam motions at you wildly, gesturing at Bucky, at himself, at the hallway, mouthing something like distract him! Keep him busy.

They almost make it, but Bucky catches the small reaction of you, the surprise. His senses are too tuned in to every little thing about you and with his brows knit together, he shifts to glance over his shoulder.

You don’t think about anything.

Your hands rip from his, and before he can turn fully, before he can see those two idiots, you grab his face.

Bucky jolts, startled, his breath hitching audibly. His skin is warm beneath your palms, the sharp angle of his jaw fitting perfectly against your hands. His wide eyes snap back to you, dumbfounded, searching.

He blinks at you. Then blinks again. Then simply stares.

His lips part slightly, breath brushing over your skin.

Your heart slams against your ribs.

This is close. Too close. Closer than you’ve ever been. Well, but not closer than you’ve let yourself imagine. But having him here in reality is something else entirely.

Sam throws you a thumbs up over Bucky’s head and a wiggle of his brows and the both of them disappear from sight into the hallway.

But you just made this worse.

And you are still holding his face between your hands.

Bucky’s lashes flicker, but he doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t fight it. Just stares at you like you’ve done something earth-shattering, like you’ve just rewritten every unspoken rule between you in a single, desperate motion.

Your pulse is a drum against your throat.

You see Bucky’s pulse thunder in his neck.

But he doesn’t move. You don’t move either.

He doesn’t breathe. You don’t know if you do.

He watches you. You watch him back.

“Doll?” Bucky practically breathes the question.

You swallow hard. Opening your mouth doesn’t help with finding words, so you shut it again. Slowly, you pull your hands away from his face.

But Bucky still doesn’t move.

His breath is still broken, his lips still parted, his brows still slightly drawn, stuck somewhere between surprise and something so deep, you’d be falling endlessly.

He is leaning in just the slightest bit, as though his body hasn’t quite caught up with his mind, not even realizing he is doing it.

And you hate the way your chest aches at the look in his eyes.

There is so much all at once and the more you stare, the harder it gets.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, dropping your gaze.

But there is movement in your peripheral.

Steve and Sam are creeping back out of the hallway, lugging something that looks like Bucky’s speaker system from his room.

And god help you, they are still moving at a snail’s pace, their motions so exaggerated, so painfully slow and obvious that you want to scream. You grit your teeth.

Fortunately, Bucky is still just staring at you, stunned.

The two are just about to reach the door, so close to getting through this ridiculous charade, when Sam’s end of the box bumps against the shoe shelf.

The sound isn’t loud, but it’s enough. Enough for Bucky’s head to instinctively turn toward the noise. Enough for his body to shift just slightly.

Your brain short-circuits.

Like completely.

Totally.

Lacking any sense.

Not only do you pull his face back.

You pull it in.

“Kiss me,” you blurt, and it’s not soft, not sweet, not anything carefully planted - it’s desperate, panicked.

Bucky’s whole face just goes wide, pure shock filtering out anything else.

Another bump.

You’re not sure Bucky even heard it, but your lips crash onto his with urgency.

Bucky freezes.

And when you say freeze, you mean freeze.

Every muscle in his body turns to stone. His hands flex before going rigid, floating in the air. His breath stalls. His spine goes straight, and the grunt he lets out - so low and gravelly, caught deep in his throat - reverberates into your mouth.

But behind him, Steve and Sam go as still. Dead silent.

You can feel them watching, their eyes practically bulging out of their skulls.

For a full few seconds, nothing happens.

But then, there is a shift. You don’t see it, but you know it. The way their disbelief turns into something smug - something amused and downright delighted. You feel the way Sam’s mouth probably stretches into that toothy and knowing, cocky-ass grin. You feel the way Steve simply looks happy.

You don’t pull away.

Instead, you wave one frantic hand behind Bucky’s back, motioning wildly, trying to get them to move.

You open an eye to see them still staring, Steve blinking rapidly, Sam grinning like a fool, nudging Steve.

But then, finally, they start creeping out of the room again.

They are gone now.

Bucky still isn’t moving.

He’s not breathing.

He’s not reacting.

And the tension stretches so tight, you swear the air could snap in half.

Because this isn’t just a distraction anymore.

This isn’t just a cover-up.

Your lips are still on Bucky’s.

Your hands are still gripping his face.

And his are trembling where they hover near your knees, as if he wants to touch you, wants to move, but his brain is still struggling to catch up with what is happening.

Then the tension snaps.

Bucky exhales against you.

It’s not just a breath - it’s a surrender. A sharp and shuddering exhale that stirs against your lips, warm and tentative, as if he is trying to feel what is happening, trying to understand the shape of this moment.

His hands flex and twitch against your legs, but he is hesitant, as if waiting for something, waiting for you to pull back, waiting for this to be some kind of mistake.

But you don’t pull back.

You don’t want to pull back.

And that’s when he melts.

He sinks into the kiss, his body softening, folding inward toward you. His fingers slide up your legs, brushing tenderly against the fabric of your pants before settling on your hips, cautious, like he doesn’t want to break the moment, doesn’t want to take too much.

Then, his lips move. It’s a slow, searching motion, testing the waters, trying to figure you out. His mouth is warm, his lips so much softer than you imagined. And hell, did you imagine.

He makes a sound - low and unsure, a hum deep in his throat that vibrates against your lips. His movements are careful, almost disbelieving. Like he is afraid this will disappear if he lets himself want it too much.

But then something changes.

Your nails lightly run over his neck, thumbs over his jawline.

And you feel the exact second the hesitation snaps.

He pulls you in.

His hands tighten, fingers digging into your hips, pulling you forward to the edge of the seat, into his chest, his grip growing needy, desperate. He seems to have been starving for this, like something in him has just broken loose.

The kiss turns deeper, heavier, a push and pull of breath and movement. He kisses you with searching urgency, trying to memorize the exact shape of your mouth, the way you feel pressed against him, the way you taste.

His lips part, just for a moment, and then he dares to press in a little more, tilting his head, fitting his mouth more firmly against yours.

He makes another sound - this time rougher, needier - a groan that slips through the space between you.

You can feel the want in the way he kisses you, in the way he angles his head to take more, to taste more, and damn if it does not overwhelm you.

The way his fingers tighten their hold, his thumbs brushing just beneath the hem of your shirt, needing to feel your warmth.

And the way he breathes you in, each exhale shaky, each inhale sharper, like he is drunk on this, on you.

Your hands find purchase in his hair, fingers tangling in the strands at the nape of his neck, and the second you pull just so slightly, he makes a sound.

A gravelly noise that shoots straight through you, heat curling at the base of your spine.

He is kissing you like he can’t help it anymore. As if he has been waiting for this exact moment, for you, for so long that he’s past the point of fighting it.

You thought he’d pull away. You thought he’d startle and demand an explanation, eyes sharp with suspicion, voice laced with confusion. But he doesn’t.

His lips only press more firmly against yours, his nose sweeping against your cheek, his chest rising and falling unevenly, breathing erratic as if he is just as lost in this as you are.

Your heart is hammering so violently in your chest, you think he must hear it, must feel it where your body is pressed to his. Your hands are slightly trembling, sliding to curl into the fabric of his shirt, holding onto him. Because you have to hold on. You have to anchor before you fall, before you slip too deep into the intoxicating pull of him and lose all sense of self.

But maybe you already have.

Because he is kissing you as though he’s afraid this is a dream, testing the edges of reality with every careful, exploring movement of his tongue and lips.

He tastes like something warm, something safe, something like the orange juice you two have been drinking, something wholly Bucky. Every press of his lips, every brush of his tongue against yours, is stealing a coherent thought from your mind.

This was supposed to be a distraction. This was supposed to be a lie.

But hell, it’s not.

It’s everything you’ve ever wished for.

When you pull away, both breathless and panting, his forehead stays against yours.

Your pulse is so fast, so fluttering, and you know he can feel it, the way it thrums in your chest, in your throat, in the slight tremor of your fingers still curled loosely in his shirt.

His hot and shuddering exhale fans over your lips and it’s maddening how much you want to taste them again, how much you want to fall right back into him.

You open your eyes.

His are already on you, so close, so intent, so devastatingly blue that they don’t help at all in trying to regain a healthy breathing rate. There is something in them, something soft and devoted, something awed, like he can’t quite believe you are real, that this is real.

A shiver works its way down your spine, leaving goosebumps in its way and Bucky sees it. He feels it. His grin widens, slow and boyish almost, something that makes him look young and light, like something is lifted off his shoulders.

Your name is a breath that leaves his lips with the kind of care reserved for wishes made on falling stars.

It sends another shudder through you, and his grin turns brilliantly wide.

“That the present you were talkin’ about earlier?” he breathes, voice still hoarse, still dazed.

You huff a laugh, shaking your head. Smiling. Grinning. Like a fool. God, you can’t stop. It’s lifting your cheeks and making you feel giddy in a way you haven’t felt in so long.

“No,” you whisper back, voice airy.

“Don’t matter,” Bucky’s voice is full of affection, of something certain. His hands slide up, one cupping your jaw, thumb skimming over your cheek, the other finding the nape of your neck, fingers weaving into your hair. Holding you there. Holding you close. “Best damn present I’ve ever gotten.”

His tone is so sincere, so full of adoration, that your breath turns upside down, and you can’t do anything but feel the way butterflies are dancing in your stomach.

Heat floods your face and Bucky’s fingers flex against your skin, his smile turning impossibly brighter.

His eyes are shining with something you don’t think you’ve ever seen in them before. It’s breathtaking. It’s promising. It’s worshipful.

It’s everything.

You guess you owe him a little bit of an explanation.

There is guilt pooling in the hesitation before you speak. “Buck?” you start, voice quiet.

“Yeah, baby?” he drawls, and the way the new nickname rolls from his tongue so seamlessly makes your next inhale shatter midway, breaking into uneven pieces. You almost feel like choking.

His voice is so full of warmth, so soft, so fond. He is smiling at you and his eyes are sparkling as if you’ve just handed him the world. He is kneeling in front of you, patient and content, as though he’s got all the time in the world if it means spending it with you.

Something dizzying rushes through your veins, sparking at the base of your spine. You have to take a moment, a single, shaky pause to shove the giddiness down for later, to not let it explore the wide landscape of your heart and mind.

You clear your throat, shifting slightly in your seat, still at the edge of the armchair. Your chest almost brushing against Bucky’s. “I, uh- I do have something planned for you.”

Bucky is beaming. His amusement spills over into something so brilliant and blinding. His entire face lights up, so open, so full of adoration that it makes a feeling of pure bliss explode in your chest, sending delightful shivers down to your toes and hell, you don’t think you can handle it.

“Oh, do you?” he muses, dragging the words out slow and teasing. There is something beneath the syrupy sweetness. Something like mischief. His brows raise, eyes glinting, his lips twitch, and you know he is about to be a menace.

Tilting his head, Bucky feigns deep thought, but his eyes stay on you at all times. “Would that involve two idiots tryna sneak around behind my back?”

You blink at him.

Bucky’s grin turns wolfish and he bites his lip to suppress a laugh.

“You were actin’ all off from the beginning, doll. Knew somethin’ was up,” he states, voice a little softer, until he turns on his playful teasing voice again. “Flawless execution, sweetheart. Didn’t notice a damn thing.”

Groaning loudly, you press your hands to your face and Bucky lets the laugh out. It’s full-bodied and wholehearted. His chest shakes, his shoulders lift, his body tilts into it. And it’s such a good sound, such a lovely sound, so rich and free. It makes your own lips curl despite the frustration of the ruined surprise.

Bucky reaches up to gently pry your hands away from your face. His grip lingers, thumbs tracing over your knuckles, his touch so easy and natural.

His expression gives way to something soft. He bites his lip again, before bringing your hands up and kissing them softly, twinkling bright blue eyes trained on you and the deep flush that spreads along your cheeks.

Perhaps Bucky Barnes finally has a reason to start celebrating his birthday.

“But oh baby! Your smile.. Felt like warm sunshine after a heavy storm.. Overdose of it, is still not enough for me..”

- Zankhana

[sleepyhoon]

✰ pairing. — emo!hs x reader

✰ genre. — early 2000s au, best friend's older brother, childhood friends to lovers, smut, light angst.

✰ word count. — 7k+

✰ warnings. — swearing, family issues, partying, mentions of drinking/drugs, friendship betrayal (?), smut [virginity loss, teasing, fingering, soft dom!hs, "i've waited so long for this" type shit], reader and hs are both 18+, minors dni. very cliche shit. reader doesn’t know much abt sex tbh.

✰ synopsis. — Love notes were slipped into your locker on a daily basis. Variations of messy, boyish handwriting on yellow sticky notes stacked upon themselves by the end of each school day. Every Friday night you were invited out with the promise of, "You'll have fun, just give it a chance."

You could have any guy you wanted, no doubt about it. Yet somehow, the only one you do want is the tattooed, gothic one that lives a few doors down from your best friend.

✰ a/n. revamping this from my bts acc with heeseung this time bc im absolutely obsessed with this couple and need them to exist in every possible universe :P revamping part 2 as we speak and ill post in a few days hehe

✰ perm taglist. @intromortal @aanniikkaa @meetletsinmontauk @lovelyyf @right-person-wrong-time

———

Two monumental events had been etched into your brain for eternity, the first being sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet up with your friends at the community pool. The second is fifteen minutes upon arriving at the pool, seeing your best friend's older brother emerge from the chlorine-scented water as if he were Poseidon and realizing you were utterly infatuated by him.

Lee Chaeryeong isn't blind to this, immediately pulling you away from the crowd to question the longing gaze on your face. "Out of every fucking guy here with us, you're making eyes at my brother? You do know that Heeseung is completely gross, right?" She was so furious, you're surprised no steam was blowing from her ears.

Deny it all you want (and you certainly did within that fifteen-minute interrogation); Heeseung very clearly had a hold on you that lasted many years following that fateful night. He wasn't even your usual type; he wouldn't be caught dead around the guys you're typically drawn to. He had a rebellious side; maybe that's why getting him out of your head was nearly impossible.

Of course, the eternal guilt of falling for your best friend's older, dumbass brother is also difficult to get out of your head.

It can't be helped, really. Anytime you'd visit their home, your eyes would automatically wander through the crack of his doorway as you'd pass by. Whether he was messily cutting his dark hair while blasting Pierce the Veil from his speakers or giving himself a new Stick-and-Poke tattoo as he waited for a CD to finish burning, you long to break away from Chaeryeong for a moment to speak to him. Ask him about his day or if his band had any upcoming gigs. You'd even talk to him about paint drying if it meant you'd get to be in the same space as him.

So it's safe to say you were completely heartbroken when he left for college. Chaeryeong, however, is over the moon. Or so you think.

"… He's your brother, though. You don't think you're gonna miss him at all?" You ask, watching Chaeryeong delicately paint your fingernails a pretty shade of purple.

She shrugs, "I mean… it's definitely gonna be weird not seeing him around the house every day, but he'll still visit sometimes. Maybe."

Deep down, Chaeryeong knows Heeseung won't visit much. He'd been craving freedom and independence from their parents for ages, and moving away for college gave him the perfect opportunity to live as he pleased. They weren't fond of the clothes he wore or the friends he had, and absolutely couldn't bear the music his band makes. They criticized every little thing about him, and he'd finally be getting a break from them.

As you're about to ask Chaeryeong if she's okay, she stands from her bed, screwing the nail polish closed. "I'll be back. I have to let Bam out." Her voice is shaky, and she doesn't look at you as she exits the room.

You take the opportunity to make your way down the hall and to Heeseung's door, which he has conveniently left wide open as he scrolls on his desktop. His knees are pressed against his chest as he's heavily focused on editing his Facebook page. There's a rock song playing lightly from another tab that you can't quite identify; he uses his free hand to gently tap along to the beat of the music.

His room is covered in cardboard boxes, soon to be packed into his parents' minivan and making their way to the University of San Francisco dorms.

Your knuckles tap on his wooden door, your heart fluttering when he turns around, and you realize he's changed the ring on his lip from black to silver.

He nods at you, "What's up?"

"Nothing. I just know you're leaving in the morning, and I wanted to say bye. And wish you good luck, of course." You're not sure why you're so heartbroken. It's not like the two of you were ever a thing. It's not like this would be your last time seeing him. Why were you so upset?

"Cool, thanks." You assume that was his way of indirectly telling you to get out until he reaches into his desk drawer and says, "Catch," before tossing something towards you.

Careful not to mess up your manicure, you easily catch the item, unfolding what appears to be a purple bandanna. "What's this for?" You ask, inspecting the material in your palms.

"To remember me by, duh. Plus, it matches your nails.”

It'd be silly to tell him you genuinely don't need this because there was no way in hell you could ever forget about him. Instead, you clutch the bandana tightly in your fist and make a silent vow to keep it with you at all times; have a piece of him with you at all times.

You thank him and tell him it's nice, but all you can wonder is why he even wants you to remember him in the first place. Maybe you're overthinking. He probably just didn't care for the useless accessory anymore.

When you turn to leave, Heeseung stops you with a gentle call of your name. He turns his head in your direction, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything." You whisper back, praying you don't sound overly desperate for a more extended interaction with him.

A beat of silence passes, and just as he opens his mouth to respond, Chaeryeong is stomping up the stairs and belting out your name. You gaze away from Heeseung to glance behind you, listening as his sister shouts about doing each other's makeup.

"Never mind, actually. It's not important." Heeseung interrupts, and you physically feel your heart sink to the floor.

You're about to be annoying and pry a response out of him until your eyes dart to his floor, and you see it. What slipped out from his drawer when he tossed the bandana at you.

A condom wrapper. An empty one, at that.

It's embarrassing how quickly your vision becomes glossy, salty tears threatening to release with each passing second. Of course, he's fucking someone. Of course, that person isn't you. Of fucking course.

You shouldn't be surprised; he's probably more into girls with a similar aesthetic. She's probably covered in tattoos and piercings, just like him. She's probably older than you and may even have her own car, unlike you, who still had to catch rides with your parents or older sister.

It's odd, though. You're not entirely naive; you know Heeseung definitely flirts with you here and there, catching his eye when his gaze lingers on you for a second too long. There's a noticeable tension between the two of you that even your parents have teased about. And this whole time, he's been screwing someone else?

Heeseung hangs out with so many girls it'd be useless to even attempt to uncover who this mystery person is. It's none of your business, anyway.

So you leave.

You tell Chaeryeong you'll get grounded if you're home past curfew, and with tear-stained cheeks, you run home.

The following day isn't any easier.

Chaeryeong posted a photo on FaceBook of herself and Heeseung posing together, arms wrapped around each other, with the caption "c u l8r alligator XD". The comments are already flooded with responses wishing Heeseung farewell, some from family members or friends of the siblings.

"Don't 4get abt me!!!!!! >:( "from a girl with red hair catches your eye because it's the only one Heeseung responded to. You can't bring yourself to read his full reply, fingers moving to quickly close the tab after seeing the word 'Never.'

It's probably her, you think to yourself, the one he's sleeping with.

Maybe it's for the best that Heeseung's moving away; it'll give you some time to get over him.

And you most certainly did.

The only time he ever crosses your mind is when Chaeryeong brings him up (which she rarely does) or when you pass by his empty bedroom. Deep down, you know you'll always care for Heeseung on some level, but time away from him was just what you needed. You were too attached to him for no fathomable reason, rejecting any guy interested in you with the premise of being loyal to a guy who didn't even want you. He'd probably been sneaking girls in through his window, with you a few doors down doing magazine quizzes with his sister; blissfully unaware of what was happening down the hall.

You’re better off without him.

That's what you've been telling yourself daily until now. It's the start of summer vacation, and Heeseung's been summoned home to spend it with his family before Chaeryeong (and you) transfer to the University of San Francisco.

Heeseung was hesitant about coming home, as he always is. In constant fear that his parents have some elaborate plan for him to change his major or set him up with someone they deem acceptable, nothing like the girls he hangs around and probably invites back to his dorm.

It took days of convincing until Heeseung finally agreed to come home, under the premise that his parents' intentions were pure and that they simply wanted one last summer together before Chaeryeong moved away for college. They also hoped he'd be able to house-sit and watch over Chaeryeong for a few days as they took their annual anniversary trip to San Diego. That, however, took some bribing and the promise of gas money on their end.

He's not due to arrive until tomorrow morning, and you've convinced yourself there's no reason for you to see him right away. You'd be fine if the next time you saw him was in a few months as you're moving into your dorm. After years of longing, you've finally moved on from him.

Some of you have debated telling Chaeryeong about your past feelings for her brother, but there's no point. It was a one-sided relationship with absolutely zero depth, nothing worth discussing. So when she nudges your side and asks if you're interested in anyone, you reply with a shake of your head.

Chaeryeong has no reaction to this; she can't remember the last time you've been into anyone despite having the entire male population at your school practically throwing themselves at you. "Maybe you'll meet someone tonight."

She's referencing the house party you're going to, which she practically had to drag you out of your room to attend. Parties are different from your scene, especially on a day like today when you were hoping to have a girls' night with Chaeryeong. She had other plans, however.

"Maybe," you respond, sighing as the house you're attending is finally in your viewpoint. "We're not staying long, right? It looks packed."

Cars are parked throughout the street, one house, in particular, being the center of attention with loud music and drunk people decorating the front yard of a suburban-looking home. Chaeryeong looks as ecstatic as ever, looping her arm in yours and picking up her pace. She doesn't respond. It doesn't matter. Her response would've disregarded your concern.

One car catches your eye as you enter the unfamiliar house; it's parked towards the end of the street, and you swear you've been in it before. You're not able to dwell on it for too long, though, because Chaeryeong has to practically yank you through the front door.

Your nerves are at an all-time high. The music is entirely too loud, and there isn't a single sober person in sight. You're not sure how Chaeryeong even found out about this party, but you really wish she would've left you out of it. You'd go now if it were acceptable, but Chaeryeong would've stayed regardless, and you refuse to leave her alone. So, you push your feelings to the side and take her hand as she leads you towards the kitchen.

"Thirsty?" Chaeryeong questions, forcing a red solo cup into your hand.

"Not at all," you respond, sighing as Chaeryeong pours something into your cup.

"It's just ginger ale," she reassures you, "I don't think either of us should get drunk here." For once, she's being reasonable.

Chaeryeong suggests you do a lap around the house in hopes of running into people you may have gone to school with. And to your surprise, a decent amount of your past classmates have decided to attend. You feel more at ease with them around, a bit more comfortable now that you're around recognizable people. Although you initially hesitated to show up, you're glad you did.

"Anybody catch your eye yet? Or are you still breaking hearts?" Your old classmate, Yeoreum, questions.

You shake your head, about to explain that you're not interested in dating right now, until she gestures behind you. "That guy is pretty cute."

You shift on the couch, looking around until you spot who Yeoreum had been gesturing towards. You locate him finally, and she's right; he is cute. He just seems so familiar.

That's when it hits you.

"Oh my God," you whisper, eyes locked on him, and you slowly rise from the couch.

It's Heeseung. And the car you recognized was his. He's here. What is he doing here? He isn't due to be back until tomorrow morning.

You almost don't realize it's him until you spot the mole under his lip. He's grown his hair out and stopped dyeing it, the slew of tattoos that decorated his arm (God, did he start working out, too?) nicely connected, now creating a sleeve, and he's given himself an eyebrow piercing. Your feelings for him come rushing back in full force.

Panicked, you reach for Chaeryeong's hand, but she's nowhere to be found. Careful not to be seen by her brother, you bow your head slightly, passing through a crowd of sweaty bodies until you finally spot her kitty heels. She's leaned against a wall, swirling around her cup while flirting with some guy you'd seen around school a few times.

Creating some much-needed distance between the two, you tug Chaeryeong towards you. "I think I just saw your brother."

"What? No, he won't even be in the city until tomorrow morning."

Frustrated, you quickly search the crowd until your eyes land on him again. You ignore the fact that he's now speaking to some girl with red hair and tattoos scattered across her arm and point in their direction, "Well, then that guy looks just like him."

Chaeryeong squints her eyes in disbelief at the boy in question until the doubt becomes confusion, and the confusion becomes realization. "Oh my God! The fuck is he doing here?" She turns towards you as if you're supposed to have the answer.

"The fuck should I know? You said he wouldn't be here until tomorrow morning!"

"Because that's what he told our parents! How was I supposed to know he was gonna be here? I never would've come if I knew!"

"What are you guys doing here?" A voice you haven't heard in so long interrupts. You don't even want to turn around.

"What are you doing here?" Chaeryeong throws back, and the two stare at each other in angry silence for a moment until Heeseung steps to the side. "Upstairs," he says, nodding towards the staircase.

"But—"

"Go."

Chaeryeong's clearly aggravated but makes her way towards the stairs. You remain in place with your arms crossed, raising a brow in confusion when Heeseung looks at you. "What?"

"You too."

"I'm not—"

"I'm not asking again," he says simply. You convince yourself that you only take his command because you don't feel like fighting. Definitely not because it's interesting to have him boss you around.

Trudging up the stairs behind Chaeryeong, you wait with her in the hallway until Heeseung arrives. "Come on," he says, entering a bathroom and turning the light on. Neither you nor Chaeryeong protest; there really isn't any point.

As soon as the door is shut, Chaeryeong is yelling at the top of her lungs. "What the fuck are you doing here?! You said you wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning! Mom and Dad had to push their trip back just to give you more time to arrive, and you're already fucking here?! The fuck is the matter with you?!"

"I'm not gonna respond if you're gonna be yelling like this." Heeseung says calmly, leaning against the sink, "Let me get my questions out first, then I'll answer any of yours, deal?"

Chaeryeong glances over at you, sitting on the bathtub's edge, and you nod. She returns her attention back to Heeseung, takes a deep breath, then agrees.

"Now, what are you guys doing here?! How'd you even get invited?! And you're drinking?!" The calm demeanor from earlier slips away in a matter of seconds, clearly a hoax just to get Chaeryeong to calm down enough to let him speak.

"It's just ginger ale, and we've barely even had any! We were invited by our friends, okay? We have just as much right to be here as you do."

Heeseung scoffs, clearly unamused. "Right, and I'm assuming Mom and Dad know you're here then, huh?"

Chaeryeong nervously tucks a hair behind her ear. You wonder why you even have to be in here with them. It's not like Heeseung is your brother, anyway.

"We told our parents that we were going to a birthday party at a friend's house." Chaeryeong mumbles, barely able to look Heeseung in the eye.

"And what did they say when they dropped you guys off?"

"They didn't drop us off," you interrupt, "we walked here."

"Well, I wasn't gonna tell him that." Chaeryeong glares at you, it takes every bone in your body to not to laugh at her.

You're so over this. You didn't want to attend this dumb party in the first place, and seeing Heeseung flirting with some girl who could've been his female counterpart was the icing on the cake. It doesn't matter if your feelings for him were gone before tonight; every little emotion you'd felt for him over the years had returned (as if they ever left).

"And how exactly did you two geniuses plan on getting home?"

"Same way we got here."

"Can you please just let me handle this? Jesus Christ…" Chaeryeong shoots another frustrated glare at you, and you can't help but roll your eyes at her. She turns back towards her brother, "Can you answer my questions now?"

Heeseung's eyes anxiously dart around the cramped bathroom, landing on you a few times before he's slowly nodding his head. "Alright, Mom and Dad basically forced me to spend the whole summer here, and I kept asking myself why they were so persistent about it. They finally told me they needed me to watch over you and the house for their stupid trip. I had plans too, you know? That I had to derail for them. My band could've spent this summer touring, making real money, and now we can't. So, they wanna inconvenience me? I'll inconvenience them right back."

"…Inconvenience them by doing what?" Chaeryeong asks the exact question you had.

Heeseung shrugs, "By telling them I'm gonna be arriving a day late, duh."

You and Chaeryeong exchange an awkward glance at one other before silently agreeing not to tease him about it. If this was his badass way of retaliating, who were you to rain on his parade?

"Are you gonna tell anyone you saw us here?" Chaeryeong questions, a noticible tremble in her voice.

"As long as you guys don't tell anyone you saw me."

It's a fair trade, you accept it. You're even more delighted when Heeseung says he's taking the two of you home. Chaeryeong, however, isn't too happy about this, claiming there were so many people she didn't get to speak to, and how'd this be the last time she'd get to see them before moving away for school. You're not sure if Chaeryeong is really good at getting what she wants, or if Heeseung was tired of hearing her complain, but he finally gives in and grants her ten more minutes to socialize before meeting him at his car.

"If you're not at my car in ten minutes, I swear to God I'm calling mom." Heeseung scolds, holding the bathroom door open as the three of you finally exit.

A loud, drunk voice suddenly shouts, "Woah, Heeseung! Two girls at the same time!? You fucking beast!"

"They're my sisters, you fucking pervert!" He shouts back.

You can't even dwell on how disgusting the original comment was, only being able to focus on the fact that Heeseung just referred to you as his sister. As conceited as it may sound, you're not used to rejection or guys putting you in the friend-zone. Whatever little game Heeseung had been playing with you over the years was completely new territory. And right when you think things couldn't possibly get any worse, he calls you his sister.

What the actual fuck.

—

The next ten minutes go by in a blur; Chaeryeong has ditched you for a second time that night to talk to the guy from earlier. When it's finally time to leave, you find her Sat on his lap with her arm hung across his shoulder, laughing at an unfunny pickup line he'd used on her.

"It's time, Chaeryeong," you interrupt, helping her stand.

"Wait, wait, wait," she persists, directing her attention back to the boy, "tomorrow at five, right?"

"And not a second later." He sends her a disgusting wink that makes your skin crawl.

Chaeryeong is so love-struck you're surprised there isn't an arrow lodged in her back. She can barely form a proper sentence, erupting into a fit of giggles every few seconds as you make your way to Heeseung's car. "Wasn't he just gorgeous?"

You shrug, linking arms with her. "He was alright."

Stunned, Chaeryeong gasps at you, "Just alright? He was literally like a Greek God."

"I'm not saying he's unattractive; he's just...not really my type."

"And what is your type, Miss. Never-Has-Been-Interested-In-Anyone?"

Now, there's the question of the hour. You have to word your response very carefully; don't be too obvious about the fact that your ideal type is her older sibling.

"I guess I prefer guys with an edgier look to them, you know? Tattoos, piercings..." Despite your attempt to sound as nonchalant as possible, your heart is beating out of your chest from the mild confession.

Chaeryeong snickers, then playfully groans. "It sounds like you're describing my brother."

Now, you really have to test the waters.

"Since you brought him up, would it be so bad if I did like Heeseung? Hypothetically speaking, of course." You're not sure what prompts you to even ask this. It's not like he's even interested in you; he literally just referred to you as his sister.

A beat of silence passes as Chaeryeong gathers her thoughts, then she says, "No."

"What?"

You've finally reached Heeseung's car at this point, beating him there. You sit atop the trunk, feet hovering above the ground as the cold, nighttime air swirls around you. Chaeryeong shakes her head, "Obviously, it wouldn't be the ideal situation, but I guess I wouldn't mind as long as you talked to me about it first."

"First?" You mimic.

"Like...assuming you'd wanna date him or something. Just so I'm not blindsided, you know?"

This is the last thing you would've expected your impulsive, hotheaded (yet oh-so-loveable) best friend to be reasonable about. Mainly because she lectured you for nearly twenty minutes when she first suspected you had a crush on Heeseung.

You go to respond, but Heeseung, finally arriving at the car, captivates both of your attention. He finishes off his can of Pepsi before crushing the aluminum and tossing it to the ground. "Ready?" He questions.

There's no point in giving him a speech about littering; you're just ready to go home.

He fishes his keys from his pocket and unlocks the car door; Chaeryeong opens the backseat and jumps in before you have the chance, sprawling across the aged leather. "Move over," you nudge her foot with your knee; she pulls away from you.

Heeseung calls your name, "Just sit up front. She's not gonna move."

Now, this is new. You've ridden in the backseat of his car with Chaeryeong more times than you can count; he'd never allow either of you to sit shotgun with him; typical annoying older brother bullshit.

Don't make a big deal out of this, you say to yourself, climbing into the passenger seat of his car.

Chaeryeong and Heeseung bicker the entire ride to their parent's house, partially out of annoyance with each other, but you also get the feeling that neither of them were genuinely ready to leave the party. You're surprised Heeseung even enjoyed parties; he spent most of high school either working, hanging out at skate parks, or practicing with his band in their garage. College must've really changed him, and you're unsure how to feel about it.

Heeseung parks a few houses down from their parent's house and unlocks the doors, "Get out," he says into the backseat.

"Where are you gonna spend the night?" Chaeryeong questions, stretching her arms outward.

"I checked into a motel this morning. I'll be back here tomorrow around noon. And, hey," Heeseung turns around, pointing a finger at his sister. "Don't tell them you saw me."

Mockingly, Chaeryeong points a finger right back at him. "Telling them I saw you would be exposing myself, cock-sucker. Leave me alone." She angrily begins to climb out of the car, annoyed at how little trust Heeseung had in her.

You turn to go, but Heeseung's cold hand on your bicep stops you, "Where you goin'?"

"I'm gonna walk home from here. It's only a few minutes away," you respond.

Heeseung shakes his head, "I'm dropping you off. You haven't moved since I left, right?"

"No, but it's fi—"

"Then your house is on the way to my motel. We're going in the same direction; might as well ride together."

It truly does make more sense to ride together, and rejecting his offer any further surely would raise suspicions. You don't want either of them to believe you'd feel uncomfortable being alone with Heeseung because that couldn't be farther from the truth. You're perplexed about your feelings now, and you don't want to do anything you'd regret just because of the confusion.

"Okay, then." You glance over your shoulder at Chaeryeong, "Will you need any help getting ready for your date tomorrow?"

Suddenly embarrassed, Chaeryeong shushes you, gesturing that Heeseung is literally right next to you and would prefer that he didn't hear about her dating life. Heeseung genuinely couldn't care less and is instead patiently waiting for his sister to get out.

She does finally, and Heeseung resumes his path to your house. He turns the radio on, switching between stations until he stops on one that's playing a song he's familiar with. You drive silently for a few minutes; the only sounds being heard are the distant noises from the car's motor and Heeseung humming along to the radio.

He breaks the silence by saying, "I was surprised to see you back there. You never really seemed like the type to enjoy parties."

You chuckle, "I could say the same for you; I don't remember you attending any in high school."

"That's 'cause house parties weren't my thing," he explains, "I went to raves or parties that would happen at the skate park. I don't really like being at someone else's house for too long; it feels too intimate."

Now that you think of it, skate park parties and raves seem much more like his scene.

"Well, I only went because Chaeryeong was going, and I didn't feel comfortable with her being there alone. Otherwise, I never would've gone." You admit, resting your head against the window.

"Thanks for looking after her, by the way. You're a good friend."

"I'd do anything for her." Your voice is barely a whisper now, getting quieter with every word you say.

Silence passes, and he says, "Did you know your guys' dorm room is gonna be right under ours?"

"Seriously?" You respond, genuinely curious.

"Mmm-hmm. My roommate, Sunghoon, and I are gonna be the worst upstairs neighbors ever." He teases as you roll your eyes. Your mind can't decipher whether this banter is playful & platonic or romantic. Everything Heeseung does confuses you.

"If that's the case, I'll be sure to move to an entirely new building."

"What, so you can have your boyfriend protect you?"

Pause. Boyfriend?

You nearly give yourself whiplash from how hard you spun around to look at Heeseung. "Boyfriend?" You ask.

He shrugs nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the road. "I just assumed you'd have one by now. Do you?"

There he is again with his mind games. What the fuck was he talking about?

After letting out a very frustrated sigh, you mumble, "No, Heeseung, I do not have a boyfriend."

"Good. Focus on school."

Now he's pissing you off. You wish he'd shut up for the rest of the car ride. "It's nice to see you again, by the way."

Holy shit, you feel like jumping out the window.

"Yeah, great seeing you too. Oh, there's my house. I can walk from here." You make quick work of undoing your seatbelt.

"You sure? I can drop you off at the door."

"No, no. It's best if my parents don't see you so they don't accidentally tell your parents that they saw you." You lie, racking your brain for any excuse imaginable.

He nods, deciding it's best to drop you off a little further from your house. "Then, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"What?" You stop dead in your tracks, one hand clutching the door handle.

"Aren't you coming over tomorrow to help Chaeryeong get ready for her…thing? I'll be back home by then."

He's right; you'd be back in his house, and he'll be there this time. It's no big deal. You'd only be there for an hour (at most) to help her prepare, and then you could go the whole summer without seeing him again.

"Yeah, I'll see you then."

The following day, Chaeryeong is back to her unreasonable self, expecting you to wait at her house for her to return from her date.

"Please? We're just going to get pizza; we won't even be gone that long." She pleads, adding the finishing touches to her makeup.

You'd already spent over an hour helping her prepare, and now she expects you to do nothing but await her return. You know her heart's in the right place; she just wants to be the first to hear all the exhilarating details about her date. Still, a phone call would suffice.

"What am I supposed to do while I wait for you to come back?" You whine.

"Just hang out here! Watch a movie or something!" She suggests, trying her absolutely hardest to sound enthusiastic. Her phone buzzes in her hand before she has the chance to continue, eyes lighting up as they flicker across the bright screen.

Chaeryeong clutches her phone, locks eyes with you, then rushes towards the door. You're faster, though, quickly capturing her wrist before she's barely reached the hallway. "I'm going home."

"No! If you stay here, I'll bring you back pizza, and we can have a girls' night like we were supposed to yesterday! Come on, please?" She begs, pouting her lips.

You go to reply, but the bathroom door swings open, and Heeseung strides out. Just to your luck, he's shirtless; water droplets descend from his hair as he towel-dries it. As he enters his bedroom, he mocks his sister's high-pitched whine, earning a lethal glare and a slew of swears thrown at him.

Perhaps you should stay.

"Fine, but you're lending me your pajamas." You give in, earning an enthusiastic shriek from your best friend.

Chaeryeong wraps you in a brief, yet tight, hug before shouting, "Be back soon!" Then she's rushing down the stairs and out the front door. It's not often that Chaeryeong makes you wait for her return, but you absolutely despise it whenever it does occur. She's never back by the time she promises and gets upset when you try to call and check up on her.

And speaking of calling, you're sure your phone is dead by now. You insisted Chaeryeong bring her's along just in case, so you're left with one option.

Heeseung's door is wide open (as usual) when you go to knock. He's fully clothed now, pairing his black sweatpants with a matching black t-shirt. His hair appears mostly dry now, chaotic as ever, but dry. You don't think he's ever looked this good before.

He's sat on his bed, flipping through the latest copy of Rolling Stone when you arrive. He glances over at you and lets out a dry chuckle.

"What's so funny?" You ask.

"You're dressed like Bella Swan." He responds casually, eyes raking up and down your body.

"Who?"

"From Twilight. You know, that new movie that came out?" He seems genuinely surprised that you don't seem to know anything about this movie, not even the name of (who you suspect to be) the main character.

You lean against the doorframe, "Haven't seen it."

"It's a great movie, seriously. Some friends and I are seeing it in a few days if you and Chaeryeong wanna come." He suggests, flipping another page in the magazine.

You let him know you'll ask Chaeryeong if she's interested before remembering why you came to his room in the first place and ask if you can borrow his phone charger. Heeseung directs you to where it's plugged up by his desk, and you finally have the chance to stroll further into his room. You can't recall the last time you've been in here, but you know it looks much different than before. Many of the band posters that decorated the room were gone, his random trinkets and piles of clothes were gone, and not a single piece of his CD collection was in sight. It felt so lifeless, so unlike him. No wonder he always dreaded returning home; it probably didn't even feel like home to him.

"So," you say, attempting to break the silence, "you're here for the whole summer, huh?"

"Unfortunately." He mumbles, "Gonna try and go by sooner, convince my parents I have to sort out an issue with my dorm or something."

"It's nice to have you back, though." You admit, watching as Heeseung's gaze locks on yours.

"Yeah? It is?" He questions.

You shrug, "Of course. We practically grew up together; it was weird to not see you all the time."

He sits up now, closing the magazine and tossing it on his nightstand. There's something on his mind that he isn't saying; you can tell from the way his brows knit together and how he's anxiously tugging on his lip piercing. "It was weird to be gone," he mumbles and leaves it at that.

"By the way, I'm sorry about last night." He apologizes.

"For what? Calling me your sister?"

He laughs at this, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to do that on purpose, by the way. That guy was just...so weird, I kinda blurted out the first thing that would've made him feel weird for even thinking that."

Oh. That makes sense. You definitely overreacted.

"I meant," he continues, "I'm sorry if the whole boyfriend assumption thing upset you."

"Oh," you dismissively wave a hand at him, "that was nothing."

Heeseung raises a brow at you, "Are you sure? 'Cause you seemed pretty upset afterward, you were practically running out of my car."

There's no point in lying now, considering you weren't even the slightest bit discrete the previous night.

"If I'm being completely honest, I just felt a little awkward. But that's it, I swear." You assure him, moving to lean against the bedside table.

"Awkward about what?"

God, this was so embarrassing. Is he really going to make you humiliate yourself like this?

"Because I've never actually had a boyfriend before."

Heeseung looks genuinely shocked at your confession, eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he examines yours for any sign of deception. "You don't believe me?"

"I'm not sure. I only assumed you had one just based on how crazy guys were about you in high school. Not to mention you're, like, fucking gorgeous."

What?

"I'm what?" You ask, not entirely sure if you heard him correctly.

He repeats himself again, and you make him do it a few more times until he's too embarrassed to say it again. You somehow manage to get back on the topic of never having a boyfriend before when Heeseung asks you another question. "Have you ever...?"

He doesn't need to finish the sentence. You know what he's asking.

You shake your head.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business." He berates himself, and you assure him it's no big deal and that it shouldn't even be a shocker to him.

After a half hour of talking about whatever comes to mind, you wind up sitting opposite Heeseung on his bed, legs perched up underneath your body as you go back and forth, questioning one another.

"So, when are you gonna admit you had a crush on me?" His voice is barely a whisper.

"I never did." You lie.

"Really? That sucks?"

"Why?"

He shrugs, leaning his back against the headboard. "I just always thought that maybe you and I would've ended up together at some point."

You don't remember who leans in first; it doesn't matter; all that matters is after years of longing, your lips are finally intertwined with his. He must've smoked today; you can taste the nicotine on his breath. But it doesn't matter; you don't make the slightest move to pull away. Neither does he, placing his hands on the small of your back to guide you onto his lap.

Your body is moving on autopilot, limbs moving to do whatever feels right as you silently pray not to ruin the moment. Heeseung can spot your nervousness from a mile away and stop you, "We don't have to do—"

"I want to," you pant, breathless, "I've wanted this for so long."

"Do you trust me?" He asks.

"More than anything."

He kisses you again before adjusting your current position, slowly twisting yourselves until you're lying flat on your back. He moves his lips down towards your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his path as he settles between your legs.

You reach up to grab a handful of his hair, nearly jumping out of your skin as his delicate fingertips creep up your inner thigh, inching closer and closer until his ghosting over your clothed pussy. "This okay?" He mumbles.

You nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. "Cute," he replies, "you're already so wet." His fingertips stroke your clit through your damp underwear; you don't think to wonder how he managed to get to it so quickly, all thoughts leaving your brain as he makes small circles using his middle and index finger.

"Heeseung…" You moan, pleading for him to do more.

"I know." He assures you, using a single finger to pull your panties to the side, making just enough room for him to slide a finger into your aching cunt. "Am I really your first time?"

You nod again out of fear that a moan would slip from your lips if you even tried to speak. His eyes are locked on yours, studying your expression as he coaxes a finger inside you. You're embarrassed at how quickly your wetness coated his finger, but Heeseung doesn't care. He likes it, makes him feel fucking amazing knowing the effect he had on you.

"Take your shirt off." He says, and you do as told, pulling your top up and off your body and tossing it to the floor; making quick work of undoing your bra before he even has the chance to ask.

His lips are back on your neck instantly, trailing down to your collarbone until he reaches the curve on your breast. He halts his actions momentarily before your pitched nipple is caught between his teeth and your back arching off the bed from how overstimulating everything feels.

You curse under your breath, and Heeseung makes another comment about how cute you are, though you feel far from it. He apologizes by lapping his tongue around your nipple, easing the pain slowly as he inserts a second finger into your cunt.

You can feel his bulge against your thigh, though he doesn't even care about getting himself off. He moves over to your nipple, licking and sucking until it's completely hardened, leaving himself breathless. The two fingers that had been working your cunt had picked up the pace now, and there was an unfamiliar feeling in your gut that you couldn't identify.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" You groan, legs trembling.

Heeseung is all too familiar with these actions and asks, "You're already close? I've barely done anything to you." He teases, chuckling to himself.

You know he's being lighthearted, but you can't help but feel embarrassed at the tears forming in your eyes from how good everything feels.

Suddenly, he's pulling his fingers out of you, and now you feel like crying for a different reason. You go to protest but stop to watch as he takes his shirt off. If you weren't sure then, it's obvious now he'd started attending the gym.

He makes quick work of tugging his sweatpants down his legs, tossing them into the abyss before reaching into his bedside table and retrieving a condom. "You're okay?"

You nod.

"Use your words."

“I’m okay, Heeseung.”

"You're still okay with this?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

Jesus fucking Christ, the saint this man is.

"I'm positive." You assure him.

You move to pull down your skirt and underwear, but Heeseung catches your wrist. "Leave them on," he says. There are so many things going on that you choose not to question.

He pulls off his boxers in the meantime, hardened cock slapping against his abdomen with precum leaking from the tip. Though you had nothing to compare it to, Heeseung was obviously slightly larger than average. You shouldn't be surprised; it's always the guys that you'd least expect.

He tears the condom wrapper with his teeth, retrieving the rubber inside before tossing the remains to his floor. Despite being fully erect, he fists his cock a few times before sliding the condom on.

He crawls over you, left arm at the side of his head, while he uses his dick to nudge your panties to the side. "This still okay?"

"I already told you—fuck!" He cuts you off, the tip of his cock slowly making its way inside you. You feel so stretched out from this alone you don't know how you'd manage to fit all of him into you.

Heeseung must be feeling the same, swearing under his breath and commenting about how tight you feel around him. Second by second, he coaxes himself into your pussy until you feel like you could split right open. "Are you all the way in?"

"No, can't take anymore?" He asks, leaning his head down against your ear.

You're embarrassed to admit he's too big to handle on your first time, but it's the truth. You don't want to overextend yourself just to please him and end up hurting yourself.

"You can move, just…not too much. Please."

Heeseung nods, "Whatever you want, angel."

He pulls his hips back and rocks himself back in, being sure to ask if you're okay with his pace. Once you confirm you feel fine and want him to keep going, he continues his movements; his eager hips snapping against yours and his cock hitting your G-spot with each deep stroke. You feel like you're on cloud nine, hands tangled in his hair as he swallows your moans.

That unfamiliar feeling from earlier returns; you feel it through your entire body this time. A moan of his name escaping your lips lets him know you're close. How he can always sense these things is beyond you; it's not worth overthinking.

"Close?" He asks, and you nod frantically.

Heeseung picks up his speed slightly, careful not to overwhelm you, but just enough to reach your climax, until finally, the bundle of nerves in your abdomen snaps, and your back is arching off the mattress as you come around his cock.

He's only a few seconds behind with his orgasm, erupting in a loud grunt when he finally reaches it. The two of you lay in silence for a moment before Heeseung finally pulls out of you and slides the condom off, tying it in a knot and tossing it into his trash bin.

"Are you okay?" He asks for what feels like the millionth time.

"I'm fine." You respond, and it isn't a lie. Physically, you feel terrific; mentally, it was an entirely different story. "Are you?"

"I'm good, I'm good."

As much as you would love to lay naked with Heeseung in his bed for the rest of the night, you know Chaeryeong will be home anytime soon. "I think I'm gonna go wash up."

He nods, crawling under his covers once you stand from his bed, tugging your skirt to its proper length as you search for your remaining clothing. "Oh, it's um…your shirt, it's over there." Heeseung awkwardly gestures towards a pile of clothing by the end of his bed.

Almost as quickly as you shred yourself of them, you snatch your clothing and bundle them up against your chest.

"Listen, I know right now isn't really ideal, but I meant what I said about liking you, and really think we should talk." He says nervously, barely even able to look at you.

You almost want to laugh at how cute he is; instead, you agree to talk to him about it soon. You're about to head out into the hallway when Heeseung reminds you about your charging phone over by his desk.

You retrieve it and scan the area again, ensuring you haven't left anything else behind. When everything seems clear, you stand upright, but your eyes fall toward the trash bin near his window with the discarded condom. You're embarrassed to even look at it until you realize something seems off. It looks…empty.

Now, you're no sex expert, but imagine that if Heeseung had finished, there'd be something to show for it in the condom. Right?

Did he fake his orgasm? Was this another one of his fucked up mind games you'd been subjected to?

You don't know what to think as you step into the bathroom; your emotions are all over the place, and all you really want to do is go home. But you promised Chaeryeong you'd be here when she returns, so you stay.

The next time a Lee sibling asks if you're okay is twenty minutes later when Chaeryeong finally arrives and asks why your eyes are so watery.

"I'm fine." You respond, and you're lying for the first time that night.

[guppiechuu]

swim ˙⋆✮ l.h. — the water's getting colder, let me in your ocean, swim.

stoner!heeseung x fem!reader

this is so super inspired by @sleepyhoon's plug!heeseung oneshot, which you can read here. I return to it daily. Omfg. Thank you for your service.

length: 3.9k

contains: smut (minors dni), soft dom!heeseung, use of drugs and alcohol, stoner heeseung and reader, dry humping, oral (f!rec), fingering, Heeseung watches reader masturbate while he rolls up, unprotected sex, dirty talk, multi orgasm, pie of cream 👅

synopsis: if heeseung hadn't been high, he might have been a little smarter about letting you come over drunk after a party. but what can he say? everybody has their vices, and who is he to deny you yours?

tl;dr — reader comes over after getting drunk at a party and crawls right into her best friend’s lap :P

⤷ chuu's 💌 ── .✦ dedicated to my soulmate my best friend my domestic life partner my smoke soldier my nightly sesh buddy. may we find our hot stoner boyfriends soon (✿ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)⁾⁾

——

Heeseung was already faded when you texted him.

It was post-smoke—sprawled on top of his bed, sweats low on his hips, skin still slightly damp from his shower. A rather calm Friday night for him considering he was usually out most weekends.

The second half of a joint sat waiting on the edge of the ashtray, but he was distracted by his phone buzzing, your name popping up on his screen.

Y/N hee u up?

He tucked the joint between his lips as he read the texts.

You were at a party, one that he'd been invited to but decided to skip. You’d complained about it earlier—“who’s gonna watch me if I get drunk?”—your lip jutting out in a pout that made him instantly second-guess his decision.

You were just friends.

But fuck, he was wrapped around your finger.

Heeseung yeah what's up trouble

He leaned his head against his shoulder as he watched your text bubble appear and disappear, picturing you all too easily: drunk in the crowd of some house party, the hem of your skirt riding up your thighs as you moved, the length of your legs below.

Fuck. He wasn't mad about an early night in, but he was totally regretting not going out with you. Being the guy that you stood way too close to while you talked. Getting to stare down the mindless frat bros who were always trying to approach you.

You were probably talking to one now—just to spite him, if nothing else. You’d truly been pissed that he stayed home, and you both knew Heeseung was the jealous type.

Even if you were just friends.

Still, he felt a small sense of pride at the fact that you were at that party, no doubt surrounded by guys who definitely wanted to fuck you, busy texting him.

Y/N yay youre awake! i hate you

Heeseung good to know you're having a good time

Y/N you said u might come :(((( everyone kept asking where u were I had to tell them all how lame you are

He couldn't help but smile at how whiny you were, always clingy after a night out.

Heeseung wow that sounds really hard 🙁 i'm so sorry u had to go through that

Y/N thank you :( it was really sad u miss me?

Heeseung little bit u drunk?

Y/N mmaaybee can i come over don't wanna go home yet

Heeseung exhaled through his nose, letting his head fall back against the wall.

You were so predictable.

And he was so bad at saying no to you.

Heeseung sure baby doors open His joint was still lit between his teeth when he heard the door. His head was swimming, senses dulled in just the right way when you burst into his room, dropped your bag to the floor, and crawled eagerly into his lap.

He forgot about the blunt in his lips temporarily—inhaling sharply as you clamored over him, legs on either side of his, fingers digging into his shirt.

Heeseung had to fight a cough as he pulled the joint from his mouth, holding it away with one hand and grabbing onto your waist with the other, keeping you steady.

"Missed you," You said breathily. Oh, you were drunk. Pouty, clingy, and shamelessly handsy. Your fingers skirted up his chest as you rambled, your thighs squeezing his legs. "Why didn't you come tonight? I looked so hot, like seven different people told me so, and you weren't even there to see."

He took a stuttering breath, trying not to think about the way your body was pressing against him.

You squirmed in his lap, hips digging into his as you clawed closer to him. He hissed, both hands flying to your waist to try and keep you still.

It was no use.

"I didn't know you cared if I saw," He said, his voice lower than he meant it to be, rough from the burn of smoke in his throat and the way your hips were grinding lazily into his.

“I don’t,” You lied, your nose brushing his jaw. “But you should’ve. This guy kept trying to touch me—fucking perv. But I wanted it to be you."

Heeseung made a noise—half groan, half disbelief—and let his head fall back. You were dangerous like this. Sloppy and flirty and so fucking bold.

His heart jumped as you pressed your face into his neck, breathing in the smell of his soap.

"I didn't know that," He said, jaw clenched as your lips brushed his ear. “Should’ve told me, I would’ve been there.”

God, he was already hard in his sweatpants. And you could feel it. The way you were grinding your hips down on him—you could feel it all.

He pressed his thumb into the curve of your waist as he brought the joint back to his mouth, killing it with a final inhale. You mumbled into his skin before pulling back.

"Mmm, it's okay, I didn't— Wait, you're smoking?"

Heeseung hummed, cheeks hollowed.

"Can I have some?"

He held his breath as he spoke. "I just killed it—"

You leaned in, your breath hot on his lips. "I don't care."

Heeseung was too surprised to keep the smoke in his mouth. You kissed him messily, chasing the last remnants of his inhale as he dropped the roach onto his side table. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, sliding up the nape of his neck and tangling in his hair.

Heeseung stiffened, something like a moan scratching its way out of his throat. His hands went to your waist, sliding up your back to pull you tighter against him.

He could hardly believe what was happening. His mind was hazy, but all the sensations in his body had heightened. He tried not to shiver as your lips slid over his, tongue darting into the well of his mouth.

His dick was straining against his sweats now, throbbing with every pass your body made over his. It was too much—your flimsy little skirt bunched around your thighs, the slick of your underwear sliding over his cock, the breathy moans spilling from your lips.

He'd had no idea that you wanted him like this. And now that you were here, he could barely control himself from taking more.

"Y/n—" He started, trying to steady you. He could hardly get a word out, the way you were pressing your lips to his, whining into his mouth. “—you're drunk.”

You whined again, giving him a sharp tug to the back of his head. "And you're high," You argued, pushing your hips down roughly as if in protest.

Heeseung couldn't argue with that.

He groaned—deep, frustrated—as you rocked against him, chasing his lips with a neediness that made his head spin. His grip on your hips tightened, pushing you down where he was tense and aching for you.

“Fuck, y/n,” He breathed, voice cracking in the middle.

“Mmm, Hee,” You responded drowsily, lifting your head from his shoulder and giving him a knowing grin, your lip caught between your teeth.

You looked completely gone for him.

You rolled your hips again, slow and deliberate, and Heeseung’s head fell backward. His jaw clenched as you went for his exposed throat, your teeth catching on his skin, your tongue smoothing over the sting.

He’d never seen you like this—messy, rough, cock-drunk before you’d even gotten any. It took every ounce of strength not to flip you over and give you what you were so clearly begging for.

"Stay the night," He gasped out, holding your waist firmly against him as you rolled your hips. "Don't go home— stay here."

Your voice was laced with desire, taunting him. “But I gotta go, Heeseung, I have things to do.” You leaned back, tapping your chin as if thinking hard. “What should I use tonight? My dildo or my vibrator?”

He groaned, grabbing your ass and flipping you both over, settling between your legs with a low, thinly-controlled growl.

His stomach was already in knots. He could hardly contain himself.

How often had he thought about this exact moment? How many times had he fantasized about having you underneath him with his hand wrapped around his cock, biting down on his lip to keep himself from saying your name?

And now you were here—staring up at him with those glassy eyes, your hair splayed around your shoulders, chest heaving as you pulled him harder on top of you.

The feeling of your pussy through his sweatpants alone had him stuttering. When he reached a hand between you, fingers sliding under the fabric of your underwear to where you were hot and soaked, his brain practically short-circuited.

You let out a moan as his fingers slid between your folds, his wrist sinking into your thighs.

He watched hungrily as you opened your mouth, your head tossed back, body arching as he curled his fingers inside you. You were so hot like this, moans spilling from your lips, legs squeezing together.

“Fuck—look at you,” he muttered, voice low and greedy. “Falling apart on my fingers.”

Your hips bucked, a whimper caught in your throat.

“Is this what you needed?” He asked, leaning in, his breath hot against your neck. “Some attention? Is that why you came over—so I could remind you who you really want?”

You whined, eyes fluttering shut.

“Mm-mm” He said, curling his fingers again, rougher this time. “Eyes on me, baby. You wanted this—so take it.”

Your gaze met his, desperate, blown-out, and it nearly undid him.

“You know you drive me crazy?” He hooked his fingers inside you, making you gasp. “Every time you touch me—every little whine out of your mouth—you fucking kill me.”

Your breath hitched. “Heeseung—please—”

“Mhm,” He breathed, dragging his mouth along your jaw. “Keep saying my name like that.”

Heeseung kept his palm angled to give you something to grind against while he fingered you. This would’ve been enough—the sight of you panting, flushed in the face, body squirming as you came around his fingers—but he wasn’t done with you.

Not by a long shot.

Heeseung had always appreciated the way smoking allowed him to slow down. To take his time. To fully disappear into whatever he was working on.

And right now? That was you.

He teased another orgasm out of you, then another, and another. You were shaking, overstimulated, still rambling for more every time he pressed his fingers into your twitching cunt.

“Such a good girl,” Heeseung purred, eyes heavy from both the weed and the sight of you trembling, thighs squeezed around his hand.

His stomach flipped as you whined again, fingers scratching at his shoulders.

“What do you want, baby?” He asked.

You mumbled something.

“Use your words.”

“I— Can you roll me a joint?”

He paused. “What?”

“Pleeeaase, Hee? I didn’t get any.” You pouted, batting your eyes at him, the corners of your mouth quirking up.

He sighed inwardly. You were so fucking cute when you were drunk—it was practically impossible for him to say no to you. Especially not now that you were flat on his bed, hips still curling to meet his fingers, that look of insatiable desire still flashing in your eyes.

He’d have to fuck that out of you, he thought privately.

“Fine,” He said, getting to his feet. “I want you to touch yourself while I roll it.”

“What?” You sat up on your elbows, brows furrowed slightly.

“I want you to make yourself cum while I roll you a joint. Deal?”

Watching Heeseung’s hands work expertly over a blunt that would end up between your lips? Getting to watch him try and focus on rolling while you were moaning in front of him, distracting him with every twitch of your body?

You could hardly think of a better way to get free weed from your best friend.

But it was a rigged deal. Heeseung had rolled countless joints in his lifetime, and his fingers worked as deftly with his grinder and papers as they did in your pussy.

He wasn’t distracted. No, he watched you as casually as he might his TV while he rolled up.

And you were tired. Overstimulated. Never able to quite reach that spot that he could that had you falling apart on his fingers.

You were still squirming in frustration as he licked the blunt closed, eyes locked on the way your stomach contorted as you ground your hips into your hand.

“Still not finished?” He asked, standing to bring you the finished joint.

He knelt at the edge of the bed and handed it to you—holding the lighter for you to spark on, grazing your wrist with his teeth as you did.

He kept his eyes on you as he traveled down your body, lips brushing over your thigh and the inside of your knee.

You inhaled, throat burning as the smoke curled around the base of your lungs. You let out a sigh, shoulders slackening, legs falling open as Heeseung ran his hand up the inside of your thigh.

He didn’t look away once.

That was his blunt between your lips. His weed burning the back of your throat. And it was gonna be his cock you were finishing on by the end of the night, mark his words.

He brushed his lips against the inside of your thigh, earning a shiver from you.

“You’re not very good at following directions,” He said, his voice low, teasing. “Said I wanted to see you cum before I was done.”

You let your head fall back, exhaling slowly. “Your directions suck.”

His teeth grazed the inside of your thigh again, a little harder this time. A warning.

“Making me roll you a joint with my weed, and only cumming when I’m the one touching you. You using me or something?”

“Maybe.” You tilted your head back, smoke curling from your lips towards the ceiling. Heeseung’s eyes caught on your neck. You looked back at him, eyes shining. “You like it, though.”

He hummed, his breath ghosting over where you needed him most. You shivered again, your legs moving to squeeze shut, but he stopped you, holding your thighs apart with his hands.

“So greedy. Wonder if you take cock the way you take all my stuff.”

“Wanna find out?” You grinned, dragging another inhale into your lungs. Your body felt warm and heavy, like it might melt completely under his touch.

“I want you to finish that joint. And I wanna see you cum again.” His breath was hot on your core. "Don't like unfinished work.”

You groaned, eyes slipping shut as Heeseung pressed his tongue against your cunt. Your underwear was already soaked through, sticking to you like a second skin that he only had to peel back to reveal just how desperate you still were for him.

He kneaded your inner thighs with his thumbs as he ate you out, pulling your panties down your legs and tossing them aside. His tongue was soft and wet, dipping between your folds with a messy kind of hunger that had your thighs trembling.

Your head fell back, mouth open, a cracked moan escaping you as he pushed his tongue inside you, curling it up to circle your clit.

“Eyes on me, pretty,” He said, voice vibrating against your pussy. “I’m not fucking you until you finish that.”

You nodded obediently, sinking further and further into a state of dazed ecstasy.

It was almost too much—the sharp taste of smoke filling your mouth, the warm, slow descent into your high, the sensation of Heeseung’s lips sliding over your cunt.

He coaxed another orgasm out of you with wide, open-mouthed licks that left you panting, your fingers curled into his hair. You arched your back, bucking your hips into his mouth as your pussy clenched around his tongue.

He couldn’t tear his eyes off of you.

By the time you were done—with the joint and your climax—Heeseung was practically bursting out of his pants.

He bit the inside of your thigh roughly before getting up and pulling his sweats off.

His cock sprang up against his stomach, throbbing painfully at how long it had spent trapped beneath his briefs while you were practically drooling all over his sheets.

You gaped at him. He was big. Bigger than you’d expected. Bigger than you thought you had it in you to take.

But despite your brain’s reservations, your body twitched achingly, desperate to finally get him inside of you. No matter how long it took.

He leaned over you, pulling your skirt down your thighs, kissing his way up your stomach as he pushed your shirt over your head.

You were, what, four orgasms deep? And you still spread open for him like you hadn’t been touched all day.

He bent down to kiss your chest, pulling you towards him until your thighs rested against his, pussy twitching under his dick.

“Still with me?” He asked, voice rough, a little too desperate. God, he’d been waiting for this. His cock twitched painfully as he bumped up against you.

You nodded, barely. You were wrecked—eyes half-lidded, lips parted, fingers itching to get his shirt over his head.

He chuckled as he pulled it over his head and tossed it aside, kissing you again, slower this time, like he wanted you to taste every stroke of his tongue that had been between your legs.

His hands roamed down your body, fingers digging into the flesh at your waist, across your hips, gripping your thighs with a kind of aching desperation.

He exhaled slowly, trying to steady himself as he lined the tip of his cock up with your entrance. One wrong move and he’d be cumming before he got the chance to wreck you again.

And he couldn’t have that.

Heeseung brushed his nose against yours, unable to control the moan that clawed up his throat as he pushed inside of you.

You gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders. “Heeseung—fuck, you’re too big— It’s not gonna fit—“

“It’ll fit,” He growled, pulling you down by the hip as he slid deeper inside. “You can take it, baby, just breathe.”

You moaned, arching up to meet him as he fit himself all the way inside you. “F-fuck, Hee—“

He groaned. “Good girl, y/n. Fuck—you feel so good.”

Your body felt like it was going to split open as he began moving, his cock dragging against your walls in the most terrible, irresistible way.

If Heeseung thought you were fucked-out before, it was nothing compared to the way you were now.

Your brows furrowed, pretty moans spilling from your lips, your fingers raking down his chest as your thighs squeezed him on either side.

You planted your feet on the mattress, angling your hips so that every thrust of his pressed right up against your clit.

Your senses were dull and sharp at the same time. Your mind bounced back and forth between racing through every fantasy you’d ever had about Heeseung and being completely and utterly blank.

And Heeseung? Heeseung was on the brink. His breath stuttered as he jutted his hips into yours, mind completely empty but for the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of you.

He grew desperate, and rough, spreading your thighs open to get at you from a deeper angle.

You whimpered, nails digging into his hips as he sank further into you—bottoming out with a throaty groan.

“Heeseung—“ You gasped, “You’re so big. Fuck—you’re gonna break me in half.”

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head, bending to watch every tantalizing change to your perfect face. “No, baby, you’re doing great. Always knew you could take it. From the moment I met you—knew you’d take my cock fucking perfect.”

His words were like a drug, adding to the already intense sensation of weed and alcohol-induced bliss swirling around your head.

Your body rocked as he fucked you harder, thighs slapping against the back of yours. You were exhausted, sticky with arousal, almost completely spent. But Heeseung slid into you like he’d been waiting to get his hands on your body all his life.

“Hee—fuck, I’m— Ah! Please don’t stop. Please. Please— Heeseung.”

He drank your begging in like water, dragging his tongue up the length of your neck as you began to stutter around him.

Fuck, he was struggling to hold on.

He couldn’t come yet. He’d been so patient, waited for so long—surely, he could wait just a little more.

Just until you were creaming his cock. Screaming his name. Then he could let go.

“Come on, y/n, say my name,” He growled, driving his hips into yours with half-restrained desperation. “Who do you come home to fuck at the end of the night? I wanna hear you say it.”

“Y-you— fuck! You, Heeseung. I wanna fuck you. Wanted to fuck you this whole time.”

He moaned, fingers bunching in his sheets as his hips stuttered, trying to hold back, trying to keep it contained.

But you clenched around him, your voice cracking with a slew of pretty, filthy moans as you came and it was game fucking over.

Heeseung’s throat scratched as he whimpered, the tension in his stomach suddenly snapping.

"Fuck, baby, fuckfuckfuck—"

He dug his fingers into you, tried to stifle his moans by biting the skin at the crook of your neck, but it was no use.

He was a shaking, moaning, whining mess at the feeling of finally—finally—getting to finish inside you.

You seized under him, his name spilling from your mouth over, and over, and over, until you collapsed back against his mattress. Completely gone.

The air was heavy, thick with smoke and heat and sex. Heeseung could feel your heart beating against his chest, thrumming like you’d just run a full marathon.

Sweat clung to your skin. Your breath came in shallow, shaky pulls.

He was still buried inside you, head resting against your shoulder, arm wrapped around your waist like he needed to hold you together—to hold himself together.

“Shit,” He muttered, his chest heaving.

You felt it in your chest—the way his voice cracked slightly, the weight of how fucking badly he’d wanted you finally crashing down on him.

You curled a hand behind his neck, threading your fingers through the damp hair at the nape of his neck.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you—his eyes dark, blown-out, glassy from the weed and the sensation of you still pulsing around him.

“You okay?” He asked quietly, fingers brushing against the side of your neck.

You nodded, dazed. “Are you?”

He huffed a quiet laugh, head dropping to your chest. “Not even a little.”

He shifted, pulling out gently, hands soothing up your thighs as if in apology for the way he’d wrecked you over the past few hours.

The high still clung to you both—lazy, floaty, slightly surreal—as he collapsed beside you, skin shining with sweat.

You turned toward him, propping yourself up on your stomach as he reached a lazy arm under you.

“I think we just fucked being friends up forever,” You murmured, admiring the look of him—sweaty, exhausted, spent.

Heeseung let out a laugh. “Maybe,” He said. “Don’t give a fuck, though. Not even a little bit.”

[ramonathinks]

𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 caleb .

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: in simple terms, it’s your first frat party and caleb’s trying to remain calm… until someone gets a little too handsy with you on the dance floor. // 18+ , dirty talk, oral, pet names, fingering, cummin in pants, body worship

(credit to daliodoll for the frame ^.^ ) mona note: not a caleb girly but this is forrrr my caleb girlies @lovegasmic @kissxcore @m7ku @kingkaisen teehee (let's ignore that this is from February and let's ignore that mona haven't posted an actual pic since forever okay ?? this wasn't the fic I was even planning to come back with but let's ignore that as well)

“Underage drinking? Really, pipsqueak?” Is the annoying voice you hear behind you, slushing the drink around in the red solo cup you look up to a smirking Caleb. Being invited to the first main party of the semester by a few of your peers, you don’t know why your mind didn’t instantly remind you that not only does Caleb go to the same university but that he’d most likely be at the party.

“Can’t I indulge in a few bad habits? It’s just one drink, I swear… scout’s honor, this’ll be the only one.” You sit your drink down for a brief second,  hold up your left hand halfway up and put the right hand against your chest — something you both always did when you were kids. 

He rubs your head and rolls his eyes, “Fine, fiiine… just don’t ever put your drink down without keeping your eyes on it, ‘Kay? And… stay close to me.” He hands you the cup.

“I came with friends, I’ll just dance for a while and then head back to my dorm. Don’t worry about me. Plus,” you look over his shoulder at the girls behind anxiously waiting, you grip your cup a bit tighter. “I think a line’s forming for the ‘who gets to dance with Caleb first’ part of the party.” An annoyed snort comes out. There was always a desire to be possessive but you always knew that Caleb wouldn’t appease anyone but you and that thought always made you happy.

“Well y’know, that right always goes to you first, second… everything in between and last. It’s something I reserved just for you.” He takes your hand and kisses the tips of your fingers. Your face feels hot and you notice the girls around him slowly backing up after witnessing this. There’s a feeling burning deep within your chest — satisfaction. 

You giggle, “Well, my girls are waiting and…I’m sure your friends are too.” You wave at his friends who are watching the scene play out, you only recognize Gideon out of the few guys.

“Just be careful, I’ll keep an eye on you at all times.” He says and you playfully roll your eyes. He does what he says, even when mingling he keeps a watchful eye on you. 

It wasn't until a small disagreement broke out that he quickly intervened, “Why don’t we all calm down, a little drink spill doesn’t warrant a fight. Plus, a dab of water would get it out before it completely stains.” He remembers the times before whenever you spilled anything on your outfits, you’d run to him to fix it. Caleb had always been the one to fix your problems, so naturally he did just that — teaching himself how to properly wash clothes and get stains out, which wasn’t too hard for someone as determined as he was to win you over. 

Finally Caleb is able to sit back down when the crowd slowly moves way, until— 

“Caleb,” Gideon points a finger to his left, to a tipsy cute you dancing with a bunch of friends, shaking your ass to the beat of the music while Tara pulls down your dress to cover your underwear and wrap her arms around your shoulder, Simone dancing giggly before moving aside for a split second and now your backside rolled against a crotch of jeans. That’s when Caleb shoots up from his seat, a second didn’t pass before he was pulling the guy off you.

He grabs his neck and slams him against the wall, “The hell do you think you’re doing?” His hand is tightening around the guy’s neck, but he remains unbothered. 

“Chill, it’s just a party… I’m dancing.” He scoffs, putting his hand over Caleb’s wrist, failing to remove it from his neck. His smirk falters and a look of annoyance is on his face. 

“Dance somewhere else.” 

“Well, what are you? Her boyfriend or something?” Caleb's eyes twitched at his taunting. “Plus, she didn’t seem to have a problem with it.” A smug look on the bastard’s face, he looks over Caleb’s shoulder presumably back to your swaying body, which further angers him.

Gideon steps in, “Caleb…you were just preaching over no fighting and yet,” He sighs. “I’ll handle it, you just get her home.” But Caleb is still glaring at the poor guy until he looks away, swallowing, that’s when Caleb lets him go.

Caleb doesn’t say much, he simply grabs your wrist and you follow, waving bye to your friends. “Calebbb, I was just having fun.” You’re pouting and he can tell, your voice whiny and needy.

“I know, but I don’t think that was too appropriate.” He’s trying his hardest not to come off as jealous but jealousy seeps through his veins. 

“I didn’t realize it wasn’t Simone until too late, sorry but…” You trail off then when a teasing voice you continue. “Would it be more appropriate if it was you?”

His breath hitches and he changes the direction a bit towards his apartment complex. “Yeah, it would be more appropriate if it was me.”

***

He had to be drunk or something… there was no possible explanation for why he was kissing you against this wall. 

“Caleb? Wait—” His mouth kisses you intensely, his tongue licking your bottom lip and his hands cupping your ass. “Are you drunk?” You whimper, his hands on you feel good … you can’t deny that. He touches you as if you belong to him, every touch makes your body feel more alive than before. 

He pulls back, his face flushed and his lilac eyes drinking you up and embarrassed you looked away from him. He huffs, “Not drunk…” His lips trail kisses on your jawline. “Just tired of waiting.”

You get what he means, the little game you both had been playing for years, skating around feelings but still being so entwined, tangled and messy when you could just be together. 

You kiss back, your tongue meeting his and caressing it, sloppy. Both of your inexperience makes you want to laugh but you move to take his shirt off, your fingers touching the hem and he quickly does it for you, removing one barrier.

He moves to kiss your neck and you freeze, your body trembling at every kiss and eventual lick that he lays on you. “You even taste good.” He says. “Let’s go to my room, okay?” He waits for you to nod before he takes you inside.

Your legs are trembling when he lifts your skirt up, peeking at your damp panties before he pulls them down. “It’s only fair that you lose an item of clothing just like I have, right?” He lays you down on his bed, your back against his pillows. 

He coaxes your legs open, “There she is… there’s my pretty girl.” You wish you could be snarky right now but it was something about seeing him between your legs that made all of that leave your body instantly, you were out of breath.

He spreads you open, wider and he groans, looking at the strings of wetness breaking apart as he stretches you. You flinch when a glob of spit drizzles on your throbbing clit, he runs it in with the pads of his fingers and your thighs almost crush his head at the feeling he’s giving you. He gently slaps your core, “Such a messy little thing, aren’t you?” Your legs twitch, he isn’t talking to you — he’s talking to what’s between your legs, a secret conversation between a man and his next meal. “It’s time we get acquainted…” He starts with a long suck and you grip the sheets, already a moan has left your lips. 

His tongue licking up and down, meeting your clit before licking at your slit, licking the insides and feeling you trembling before he works his way back up — pressing a kiss to your clit before sucking on your folds. You wonder if he did this before because the way he was going at it, he must’ve had practiced. 

You give one roll of your hips to egg him on, “Caleb…don’t tease me, please…faster.” And always so quick to obey, he does just that. His tongue swirling and slurping on you, his mouth taking your entire pussy into his mouth with deep sucking, you grab at his hair and then to his ears.

Caleb had big ears, it was a quality you always made fun of when you were younger. But now, your fingers rub circles into the top of them both as you gently hump yourself against his face. “C—Caleb!” You squeal, your eyes snapping close. Touching his ears seemed to light a fire in him because now your knees were touching your elbows, shaking his head side to side, his cheeks hollow as he slurps again. 

“Look at me…” He says, groaning, his hips digging into the mattress, you didn’t realize he was getting off to this as well. You keep your eyes closed, he dips a finger inside of you and you snap your eyes open to stare at him. He takes the finger out, sucks it before he puts it back inside and you cry out as he moves it in and out of you, small quick thrusts. 

His eyes roll back and his legs tighten up at the same time as you feel a pit in the bottom of your stomach grow. You try to push him again but his mouth is a damn suction to your core and he continues to lick and suck to you until you come undone. 

He’s panting, his mouth wet from you. The look in his eyes told you everything, that he was prepared to be done if you were. You knew Caleb. You knew he’d prioritize your needs, your wants, your pleasure over his own, even if he wanted to go all night, he’d reframe himself. 

“Let’s call it a night, you…you look tired.” He cups your face. 

“You…you don’t want me?”  The simple question was like a flip had switched in his brain because after a second of being asked he was already succumbing to his urges.

“Do you… want me to show you how much I want you?” His raspy voice shakes as he speaks. “How much I always wanted you?” He takes your hand, trails it down to his pants that were already tainted with that want, you couldn’t believe he was still hard after he came. 

“I do.” 

He’s taking off his sticky pants and boxers quickly, no need for lube when both of you had already came, the slick stickiness was all you needed. “Are you ready for me?” He whispers, his eyes scanning your lips before you move forward to kiss him. You then take the opportunity to look at him, the thick member he kept hidden in his pants and you gasped. 

You had expected it to be big and it certainly was, a little curve to it, it was trimmed and cleaned as expected. “You can…you can take all of me, can’t you?” He asks, staring at you with a puppy dog expression. His eyes looked like he was going to cry and his lips in a pout. 

“Yeah, I can.” I hope, you mentally added. You were obviously a virgin and even when masturbating you never went as far as just touching your clit. 

“I’ll go slow,” He pushes past the first ring of your insides and your insides tighten around him, both of you hiss at the feeling. “Relax.” He reminds you, rubbing your thighs. He sits for a second, pulling back out before pushing in again and sitting there. Then he moves more inside and you sink your nails into his arm, he pushes in a lot more and your head feels fuzzy. He moves out, rubbing his cock against your clit as you shudder, then he’s back inside, deep inside. 

You can’t breathe, he’s feeling you up nicely and even with the pinch of pain, it feels way too good. 

“Atta girl,” He whimpers, pushing in just a tad bit more before he bottoms out. He starts slowly, just rocking his hips to get you used to the feeling of him inside of you fully. Touching your clit to amplify the pleasure, drawing small messy wet circles and watching himself as he enters you. You bite your lips, tears in your eyes when he speeds up. His heavy balls slapping against your ass you try to stay quiet at the feeling. “You can be as loud as you want, pretty girl.” His thrusts are sharper now, quicker and deeper as if he was always holding himself back. 

The sounds of skin slapping and loud moaning was all that could be heard and it was like music to Caleb’s ears. The curve of his cock hitting that spot hidden deep within you, “You feel so good around me and.. God, you’re so damn beautiful.” He’s staring at your face, pushing your hair from your eyes. You match his pace, your hips meeting his, his cock so heavy inside of you but the angle he’s hitting feels so delicious that you just have to fuck him back.

He's close, you can feel it from the way his entire body is shaking and the way he's trying his best to slow down so that he won't come too soon. You wrap your legs around his waist, “When you come…I want it inside of me Caleb, ‘m serious.” You can tell it drives him insane because before, his cock was aimed just to fuck you but now the new target was not only to fuck you but to cum inside and it took nothing for him to speed up again, knowing that you wanted him this badly.

He spreads your legs and fucks hard and deep inside of you, slamming himself inside of you with every thrust, he was aching and your clenching pussy wasn't helping. You meet every thrust and your name rolls off his tongue every time you do, your orgasm right there.

With a hand on your tummy, he pushes down and your body spasms and he hold you as you desperately try to move away from him at the feeling leaving you. His hips shake and then he fills you up, his cock jerking and throbbing inside of you.

You cuddle against him, wanting to be covered in the sweat and smell of your climaxes together.

[aureatelys]

adore you

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader w.c. 3k a/n: written for @mggslover's 1k celebration event, congrats baby! i initially wrote 5k, hated it, and basically rewrote all of it but i swear i still had fun writing this. i hope you enjoy <3

summary:

Weird. You're acting like my boyfriend. - God Is a Freak, Peach PRC Your boss has essentially become your best friend. What the hell does Derek mean he looks at you a certain way?

c.w.: fluff! friends to lovers, age gap ofc, feelings realization, reader is oblivious and tipsy but is a consenting party

read below or on ao3 here <3

“So, you and Hotch, huh?”

You had just finished putting your coat up, stepping through the massive entryway of Rossi’s mansion, when Derek approaches you with that familiar shit-eating grin and hands rubbing together like he’s scheming something.

You blink up at him, confused. “Yeah… he gave me a ride.”

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head but still wearing that smile that made you want to lovingly punch him. “Yeah, I saw that. I meant, you and Hotch aren’t…?”

You squint at him, because you really aren’t sure what he’s hinting at. Also, a glass of wine has been calling your name since you started getting ready and Derek is very much in the way of that. Hotch was always annoyingly punctual, and today was no different because you were honestly about to open up a bottle when you heard his car pull up in the driveway. “We aren’t what?”

“Sweetness. You’re really trying to tell me you and Hotch aren’t together?”

You choke on your spit, coughing so loud in your fist that it echoes down the entryway and gathers the attention of Rossi and Hotch at the end of it. You wave them off when they both give you equally alarmed and concerned looks while Derek laughs heartily, like the asshole he is.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you hiss at him, slapping him on the shoulder as he nearly makes himself tear up from laughing.

Derek puts a somewhat apologetic hand on your arm as he steers you to the kitchen and pours you a glass of red, finally. “Hey, I see the way he looks at you, I just wanted to make sure I’m up to date on everything.”

And that catches your attention.

Your chest still aching from your coughing fit, you give him another perplexed look. “What? He looks at me the same way as he looks at everyone.”

Derek’s face morphs into a nervous, almost uncomfortable one as he starts slowly backing away into the living room, as if you were an unpredictable dangerous animal. “I think I’m gonna… look for Garcia.”

And then he turns on his heel and is out of the kitchen before you can blink, leaving you with your lone glass of wine and the sounds of laughter emanating from the patio.

You’re still so fucking confused, because you and Hotch were only friends. In fact, you can almost consider him your best friend with the way you two are spending so much time together, even on the weekends.

One late night spent in his office to work on reports that were due the next day that you had procrastinated on and ordering Chinese food eventually turned into a habitual thing, now spending the last hour of the workday every night in his office. Then, he started inviting you to the park to play with Jack who had apparently been asking for you, then staying for dinner because Hotch was not eating the way he should’ve been and him and Jack didn’t deserve to eat pizza rolls with mac and cheese every night.

It's been a couple of months and now, you can honestly say you two are nearly attached at the hip. You’ve tried to tone it down for the office, because you knew you would get teased, and clearly you were right.

But dating Hotch? Honestly, the thought had never occurred to you.

You’ve been single for over a year and you were okay with that, because at least the job kept you busy. And you know for a fact that Hotch hasn’t even thought about dating since Beth moved a couple of years ago.

The sudden thought of Beth, her pretty blue-green eyes and perfect hair, causes a sour taste to form in your mouth. You had never met her, having only technically heard good things about her, but every time you thought of her or someone mentioned her in passing, you felt… upset.

For no reason.

When you glance at Hotch from where he’s talking with the rest of the team on the patio, you catch his gaze for a brief second before he’s turning his head back around to chuckle at something Rossi says.

You feel your heart start to race, your blood rushing through your ears, because what the fuck did Derek mean when he said Hotch looks at you a certain way? You were telling the truth when you said you’ve only noticed him looking at you platonically and nothing more.

Sure, Hotch was conventionally attractive, handsome even. You guess he hit all your boxes in a guy; tall, capable hands, and pretty brown eyes. He was a good boss, a good man, and was always putting other people first before even thinking about himself. He had an intense sense of justice, loves children, and would do absolutely anything for his team and even beyond for Jack.

He has a nice laugh once you break down his walls. For all he’s meticulous at work, his house is absolutely chaotic and it takes you nearly an hour sometimes to get him and Jack ready for a soccer game. He doesn’t prefer to cook but he seems to enjoy it more when you’re in the kitchen with him, laughing at his technique and groaning about the lack of certain utensils.

The sudden realization that you like Hotch, your boss that is older than you by 20 years, hits you like a ton of bricks. You nearly snap the stem of your wine glass, something like panic and mortification climbing up your throat before you could help it.

It’s fine, you’re fine. It’s normal to have a crush on someone you spend time with on a regular basis and is conventionally attractive. You can deal with that.

But the absolute possibility that Hotch doesn’t want you romantically was very real. In fact, it had to be the only possibility. You were younger and less experienced, both romantically and professionally. The only reason that he’s been spending so much time with you was because you needed guidance and reassurance as the newest member of the team.

He doesn’t look at you any differently than the others. That’s it. Derek has no idea what he’s talking about.

You take a shuddering deep breath, quickly composing yourself because, hello, you work with profilers. Which meant you couldn’t avoid or hide from Hotch tonight, no matter how much you wanted to.

When you make your way out to the patio to join the others with a full glass of wine and you spot the only space left in the circle was between Spencer and Penelope, you internally thank whatever God was out there. The sound of them talking over each other about something inane was oddly comforting as your eyes met Aaron’s from the other side of the circle.

His eyes appeared golden from the numerous fairy lights strewn across Rossi’s backyard, making his face appear softer and younger. You’re not sure how it took you this long to realize he was so handsome.

He raises his eyebrows at you, silently asking if you were okay because, somehow, he’s grown to learn your facial expressions like the back of his hand, which means he most likely will catch on to you having a silly juvenile crush on him.

You give him a weak smile, raising your glass slightly before taking a large gulp of it. You’re glad that Rossi is Rossi and that he doesn’t spare any expenses when he throws his parties, the strong cherry flavor refreshing compared to your cheap boxed wine you’re used to. You don’t even remember what you were celebrating tonight, or if you were even celebrating anything at all and this was just another much needed get together after case after case.

You catch something soft in Hotch’s eyes that makes your chest pang painfully as he raises his own glass of whiskey before taking a sip. No one else has noticed, too enthralled by their own conversations, so the intimacy of the private moment doesn’t escape you, in fact making you even more anxious.

It was going to be a long night.

-

You are absolutely going to give Derek an earful on Monday morning.

It’s entirely his fault that you’re not enjoying Rossi’s party to the full extent, his words swimming in your mind.

Now, you’re psychoanalyzing and second-guessing everything Hotch does.

You had made sure to walk alongside Penelope on the way to the large round table for dinner, somewhat consciously as you continued to avoid Hotch but also because she was rambling about the show you suggested she watch. Spencer was on the other side of you, interjecting whenever he could, and you made a mental note that Hotch was still on the other side of the circle between Rossi and Tara.

So imagine your surprise when, after you tear your attention away from Spencer’s ramblings and back to Penelope, you’re met with Hotch’s pretty eyes and woodsy cologne instead.

“Oh, hi,” you say, hoping he doesn’t hear the shakiness that’s suddenly overtaken your voice as that familiar panic starts to crawl up your throat. This wasn’t going to be good.

“’Hi.” The corners of Hotch’s lips quirk up, eyes softening, and what the fuck is going on. “Can I sit next to you?”

You swear you’re going to have a heart attack. This man cannot be healthy for you. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

And then he’s pulling out your chair for you.

And it’s not anything new—he pulls your chair out for you all the time, in the conference room, in his dining table when you made not-pizza rolls, and even at restaurants the afternoons after Jack’s soccer games. You’ve never thought anything of it, but tonight, after your impeccably timed realization, your brain feels like it’s going to implode.

He’s just being a gentleman, that’s all.

“Thank you,” you manage out, heat starting to come to your face. Before Hotch, no one’s ever pulled your chair out for you. It’s nice.

Hotch doesn’t say anything, because of course not, just scoots your chair in closer to the table before he takes his seat on your right.

And he’s sitting really fucking close to you.

Have you always sat this close to each other before? You must have at least once during those late nights in his office, poring over case file after case file.

Not only could you feel the heat of his body just from sitting next to him, but his arm kept brushing up against your bare one while he ate, because of course you had to sit on the left side of a left-handed person. Every brush of the sleek fabric of his green button-up against your bare arm sent shivers down your spine despite the summer air, making you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

His hand kept brushing against yours as you ate and your eyes are drawn to how large his hands are as he handles his fork and the thickness of his forearms, having had rolled up his sleeves earlier. If you searched closely, you could find scars scattered over them through the dusting of hair, undoubtedly from his time on the job.

You don’t realize you’re staring at his Rolex and the way it glints underneath the lights, until Hotch is suddenly leaning into you. “Are you okay?”

Jesus Christ, hearing that smooth voice speaking lowly in your ear, breath warm as it fans over your cheek, causes all of the air in your lungs to escape. Has his voice always been that smooth, attractive?

When you risk a glance at him, conversations around the table slowly fading into the background, his face is merely inches from yours. His brows are pinched in concern and lips are pressed into a flat line. There’s something dancing in his eyes that you couldn’t quite put a finger on.

You clear your throat. “Sorry, I think the wine is just getting to me.”

He chuckles low underneath his breath. “Good thing I’m driving.”

And then he’s knocking the back of his hand against yours, the briefest brush of skin that causes electricity to zing up your spine, and then he’s back to listening intently to Derek and Emily’s bickering over who cheated at the last game of charades.

At this point, you think Hotch is able to read your mind. Why else would he be touching you, be sweet on you, if not to torture you?

You try to wrack your brain through these past couple of months, trying to find whether Hotch touching his hand to yours has happened before or any other sign that he actually is attracted to you. You come up short.

You chalk it up to him loosening up from his whiskey. He’s already moved onto water, because he was your ride, after all, so maybe this was a fluke. A one-off.

But it’s not a one-off. In fact, you think you’ve honestly died and gone to Heaven after suddenly tripping and breaking your head open in the entryway after Derek spoke with you. If you didn’t know any better, you would think you were actually on a date with Hotch, sans the rest of the team.

He must have noticed your distracted mood, because he’s making sure you’re included in almost every table conversation by glancing at you and giving you a smile that has started to make something flutter in your stomach. He’s participating minimally like usual, content to listen, but whenever he has a comment or thought he wants to share, he’s leaning in and sharing it with you.

He's leaning in to top of your wine, reaching over the table to get more of those green beans you like, and once even knocking his knee against yours underneath the table when you looked especially lost in thought while staring at your plate.

And then when the team has moved into the living room for charades, Emily wanting payback against Derek, it somehow gets even worse.

You’re quick enough to be the first to volunteer to not play due to there being an odd number of players, thus requiring Hotch to play. Everyone cheers teasingly, because Hotch is always quick to volunteer himself out of games, content to watch.

You blame the copious glasses of wine you’ve consumed and the decadent filling dinner, warmth thrumming through your entire body, when you poke at Hotch’s considerably firm bicep. “Show us what you got, old man.”

There are resounding oohs and aahs from the rest of the team. Something fuzzy settles in your chest when Hotch rolls his eyes good-naturedly at you and stands up from where he had sat next to you on the couch to JJ’s team.

You continue to nurse your wine, pleasantly buzzed, as you are thoroughly entertained by your team’s antics. Emily and Rossi argue at least 3 times, Penelope gets significantly close to having a private meeting with HR, and Hotch continues to stare at you.

Or at least, you think he’s staring at you. The alcohol has started making you second guess things even more than you already were. Because for some reason, despite JJ sitting on the other side of the living room and being on a team with her, he moved to sit in the empty spot next to you after the first round.  

He’s definitely participating in the game, even in second place behind Penelope and Derek, but you swear you feel his eyes on you now more than ever.

It’s distracting as you try to follow the game and guess along with everyone else. This time, the right side of him is nearly molded against your left side, pressing into you so hard that you’re starting to sweat from how much body heat he’s radiating.

When you glance at him to try and catch his eyes, he meets your gaze steadily. His hair is starting to come undone, a few strands falling against his forehead, and his dimple seems to have made a permanent appearance from how much he’s pretending not to laugh at his team’s antics.

It’s nice to see him enjoy himself—a flush rising up his neck and shoulders relaxed. Although you understand he has a certain image he maintains for his team, it’s become familiar to you.

By the time it dwindles close to midnight, there’s a chorus of yawns around the group. Penelope’s the first to call it, stumbling to grab a hold of Derek’s arm and dragging him with her out the door to drive her home, ruining your initial plans to catch a ride home with her instead of Hotch. After that, everyone starts to say their goodnights and exchanging hugs despite the chance you may get called on a case as early as tomorrow morning.

“You ready to go?” Hotch leans to whisper in your ear, his breath fanning over you again and causing heat to rise to your face.

“Absolutely,” you exhale, clutching the water bottle that Hotch retrieved for you in the middle of the game, hoping the breathiness in your voice could be blamed on how late it was.

When you get to Hotch’s car, heart full and warm after spending another wonderful evening with your makeshift family, he opens the passenger side door for you.

You think you’re going to lose your mind if he keeps this up. How are you supposed to stop having a crush on Hotch when he keeps doing things that justify that crush?

“Do you need to stop anywhere for anything? Are you hungry?”

You blame it on the wine despite the fact you’ve been drinking nothing but water for the past hour, thanks to Hotch silently getting you and only you a water. Your body and tongue feels loose, inhibitions naturally decreased, and it’s not your fault. It doesn’t matter if the soft lights of the driveway highlight the sharp angles of his face or the way his woodsy cologne has infiltrated your senses.

“Weird, you’re acting like my boyfriend or something.”

The silence that ensues is deafening. Your brain takes forever to catch up with you, but then you’re suddenly struck with humiliation and dread. You mind starts to race, as best as it could, when you realize that you may have just royally messed up the best job you’ve ever had and the best group of people you’ve ever met.

Before you can backtrack and say that you were just joking, Hotch carefully says “Do you want me to be?”

“What?” Wow, you really can’t hold your alcohol well, why did you drink so much wine?

And then Hotch is stepping closer, into your space, and you’d be worried that the rest of the team was going to see if the car door wasn’t shielding you from view from the front of the house. You get a whiff of whiskey on his breath again, but when you meet his eyes, there’s not a hint of the same full body dizziness you feel.

“Was I not being direct enough?” There’s amusement sparkling in his eyes, eyebrows raised. He looks like he’s politely trying to hide a fond smile. He’s teasing you.

This Hotch is the one you’ve grown to become familiar with over the past several months. Charming and unafraid to tease you when you’re away from prying eyes. Hotch is a private person, always has been, so it’s not a surprise that him essentially torturing you tonight was his version of being direct.

“You’ve been flirting with me?”

Hotch ducks his head bashfully to chuckle. It’s ridiculously endearing and you want to tug him closer and touch him all over. “I’ve been trying to flirt with you all month so I’m guessing I didn’t do a very good job.”

You stare at him as if he grew a second head, suddenly feeling much more sobered up than 5 minutes ago. Clarity sluggishly comes to you. The various invitations to spend the night or go out to dinner without Jack comes to mind. The touching had steadily increased, but you had assumed it was just due to Hotch getting more comfortable around you.

For a profiler, you weren’t very good at noticing what was happening right in front of you.

Hotch may be a ridiculously patient person, clearly since he’s been content to flirt with you for apparently a month while you didn’t notice, but you were not. You knew what you wanted. The wine still thrumming through your veins just gave you that little extra push.

You place your palms on his chest, relishing in the subtle firmness you can detect through his shirt, and you wonder if that’s his heart you feel thumping erratically or your own. “I promise I’m not that drunk and am fully aware of what is going on right now.”

Hotch hums and places his hands on your hips, the heat of him searing through the fabric of your dress. His eyes briefly flit to your mouth before back up at you. “I’m not sure if I believe you.”

Instead of providing a snarky response, and because you know Hotch wouldn’t make the first move since you did have some to drink, you finally lean in to close the distance between you two to kiss him.

It’s soft, chaste in a way that makes you feel pleasantly warm all over, the barest tendrils of electricity tugging at the pit of your stomach. The intensity of how much you like him, how much you adore him, nearly barrels you over, but Hotch’s grip on you tightens, steadying you. His lips only slightly move against yours, as if briefly testing the waters, but it does nothing to quell the sudden desire slowly twisting inside of you.

When he pulls back, chest only marginally heaving, you instinctively chase after him. He chuckles again, low and comforting, as his hands come up to hold you still by the shoulders. It shouldn’t feel as nice and soothing as it does. “I should take you home.”

“Are you coming with me?” You sincerely hope that Hotch doesn’t question you and your boldness tomorrow. Again, not entirely your fault.

“I’ll walk you to your door, how about that?” As if he already wasn’t going to do that.

On the drive back to your apartment, the tight ball of panic and uncertainty in your chest quickly unfurls and is replaced by affection, tenderness, and promises of the future. Hotch’s hand, large and protective, doesn’t leave your thigh the entire way home.

You make a mental note to send Derek a gift card and thank you note on Monday.

[wonsiwon]

party’s over, pack your stuff | l.hs

synopsis | when heeseung returns from a party, he’s met with the shocking sight of his furious girlfriend tossing his belongings out the window and locking him out of the house. caught in the middle of a heated argument, the two find themselves pushing each other’s buttons, testing patience and limits as frustration and love clash in a chaotic standoff.

genre | stablished relationships?, fluff, angst, cracked

pairing | bf! heeseung x fem!reader

you and heeseung had been together for two years, and while there were plenty of good moments, the bad ones seemed to creep in more often lately. the fights were becoming a regular thing, especially on the afternoons after he came back from parties. he’d spend hours at a friend’s place, leaving you at home, overthinking and imagining the worst. he’d stopped inviting you to these big gatherings, and it was hard not to wonder if he was cheating. the thought of him with someone else, while you were lying awake trying to convince yourself it wasn’t true, was eating you alive.

then today, everything you feared felt real. you got pictures of him at a party, grinning at some blonde girl—the same grin that used to be just for you.

heeseung didn’t see himself as a cheater. in his mind, he was just being “nice,” brushing off the attention he got because of his looks. but that smile, the one he flashed at other girls, made you want to punch him in the face.

it was around 3:20 in the afternoon when heeseung pulled into the driveway, still half-drunk and barely focused on the road. all he could think about was crashing into bed—probably not with you since he already expected a fight. not that it mattered to him; you’d forgive him eventually. or so he thought.

he didn’t even get the chance to park properly when he spotted you through the window. without thinking, he jumped out of the car, his eyes scanning the scene. clothes were scattered all over the grass, and then, just as he stepped closer, a pair of jeans flew out the window, landing in a messy heap.

“what are you doing?” heeseung asked, his eyes flicking between the clothes scattered on the ground and your furious figure at the window. “are those my clothes?”

you didn’t bother answering. instead, you grabbed a shoe and hurled it at him, hitting him square in the head.

“baby, what the hell?” heeseung muttered, trying to dodge the rain of items falling from the window. he knelt down, quickly stuffing clothes into his arms, but it felt like no matter how much he picked up, more kept falling.

“grab your stuff and get out of here.” you said, and tossed a pair of jeans at him.

heeseung caught them mid-air and looked down. “are those my favorites?” he asked, still not fully understanding what was happening.

he then glanced around, noticing people from the neighborhood walking by and stopping to watch. he could feel the eyes on him, making the situation even more awkward.

heeseung was completely thrown off guard. he didn’t understand what was happening. it didn’t make sense to him.

“can you just—” he started, but the words got stuck. “what’s going on?” he looked up at you again, trying to find some clue in your expression, but you just stood there, arms crossed, staring at him coldly.

heeseung sighed heavily, running a hand through his messy hair as he stood there, surrounded by his stuff scattered all over the grass. his headache was getting worse, and your angry expression through the window wasn’t making it any better.

“y/n, can we just talk like adults?” he pleaded, trying to calm the situation down.

“adults?” you snapped, leaning out the window with a glare. “were you acting like an adult when you were grinning at that blonde all night?”

heeseung’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. his mind went back to the party last night, and after a few seconds, his eyes widened as it hit him what this was all about. “you’ve got it all wrong—”

“wrong?!” you interrupted, your voice trembling with anger. “what part of you smirking at her, leaning in all close, and god knows what else am i getting wrong?!”

“she was just talking to me! i wasn’t doing anything!” heeseung argued, waving his hands in a dismissive gesture. “you always overthink this stuff. it’s exhausting!”

“oh, i’m exhausting?!” you yelled, throwing a sweatshirt at him with force. “you know what’s exhausting, heeseung? sitting here, while the guy i’ve been with for two years goes around dipping his dick in any female that flashes him a smile!”

heeseung’s eyes widened, and he snapped back, his voice rising. “are you serious right now? i wasn’t fucking anyone, y/n! she was just talking to me! you’re blowing this way out of proportion!”

“talking?” you laughed bitterly, leaning further out the window. “heeseung, do you even hear yourself? do you think i’m stupid? you didn’t even bother inviting me to the party!”

heeseung threw his hands up in frustration. “y/n, it’s not what you think! i didn’t invite you because i knew you hate those parties!”

you clenched your fists at your sides, voice shaking with anger. “was it good, huh? was it good fucking that bitch while you had your actual girlfriend at home?”

heeseung’s eyes widened, completely caught off guard. “what the hell are you talking about?” he shot back, gripping the sneakers you threw at him. “i didn’t sleep with anyone!”

“stop lying!” you spat, leaning even further out the window, your anger boiling over.

“y/n..” he started, his voice getting more desperate. “you’re seriously out of your mind right now. i wasn’t doing anything! i didn’t touch her, i didn’t—”

“save it!” you interrupted, gripping the window frame to steady yourself.

heeseung dropped the pile of clothes back onto the grass and started walking toward the door, his face set with determination.

“don’t bother.” you said, a hint of satisfaction in your voice while holding up a shiny new set of keys. “i changed the handle.”

heeseung stopped in his tracks, looking at you, completely shocked. “why the fuck would you do that?” his eyes narrowing as he looked at the keys in your hand. his mind was still reeling from the argument, but now he was thrown off even more by what you just said.

you just smirked as you held up the keys. “you really thought you could just walk in here and keep doing whatever you want?”

heeseung’s jaw clenched, and he dragged his tongue across his cheek, clearly trying to keep his temper in check. both hands rested on his hips as he glared at you. “so, this is how it’s gonna be now? you’re locking me out like some stranger?” he was furious—this whole situation felt ridiculous to him. “you really think a locked door is gonna stop me?”

you rolled your eyes, leaning against the frame. “what are you gonna do, heeseung? break a window? crawl through the vents?”

he chuckled darkly. “did you change the back door too?”

your face went pale. you hadn’t. and even though you could’ve lied, you knew he wouldn’t buy it—your hesitation was clear. you watched his eyes flick to the side of the house, and then it clicked. before you could react, heeseung was already walking toward the edge of the house, that knowing smirk spreading across his face.

“gotcha.”

panic set in, and you pushed off the window frame, clutching the keys tightly in your hand. “this motherfucker..” you muttered under your breath.

heeseung took off running toward the backyard, vaulting over the fence with ease. panicking, you bolted down the stairs, nearly tripping as you tried to beat him to the door.

you hated yourself for how dumb you’d been, but even more, you hated the fact that heeseung was actually pretty smart. too smart. and the worst part? he wasn’t wrong. as much as you wanted to blame him for being insufferable, you couldn’t deny it was your own slip-up that handed him the upper hand. again.

you cursed under your breath, skidding to a halt in front of the door just in time to see heeseung standing in the frame, his tall figure all over you. his smirk was insufferable as he leaned against the door, looking down at you with a cocky expression.

you gasped, turning on your heels and sprinting back toward the stairs. “i hate you!” you shouted as heeseung darted after you, his long strides closing the distance quickly.

“i know you don’t, princess!” he called out, laughing as he chased you up the stairs.

your heart raced as you reached the top, your mind scrambling for a plan. heeseung wasn’t about to let this go, and you weren’t ready to give in just yet. you slammed the door of the bedroom, hoping to lock it before heeseung reached you. but just as it was about to close, his foot wedged itself in the gap.

“leave me alone!” you yelled, your voice desperate as you pushed against the door with all your strength.

“not a chance.” heeseung growled, using his weight to push it open.

the door flew back, forcing you to stumble a few steps away. before you could react, heeseung grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but not painful.

“let me go!” you shouted, twisting and squirming in his hold, trying to free yourself.

“stop it, y/n!” he barked, his voice low and steady, though his breathing was heavy from the chase. “you’re acting like a kid.” heeseung’s grip tightened for a second, but he didn’t pull you back. his gaze softened just a little, and his voice dropped. “baby, stop. i’m just trying to talk.”

but you weren’t ready to listen. you were too angry. “i don’t care what you’re trying to do.” you snapped, pushing against his chest. “you don’t get to act like nothing’s wrong when you’re out there doing god knows what with other girls.”

heeseung couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, the tension in his body easing slightly. “i didn’t do anything, baby. it was just a stupid conversation—nothing more.”

“bullshit!” you yelled, shoving against him harder, but all it did was make him chuckle. “why are you laughing? you think this is funny?”

“i’m not..” he said, his smile only growing wider. “it’s just funny how you get like this, all grumpy.” he reached out and pinched your nose, a playful gesture that only made you more frustrated.

you swatted his hand away, glaring at him. “this isn’t funny, heeseung!” you snapped, your voice sharp with annoyance.

he raised his hands in mock surrender, still smirking. “okay, okay. i get it. but you’re overreacting, baby.” his tone was teasing, but there was an underlying seriousness in his eyes. “i’m not doing anything wrong.”

“you always say that,” you shot back, your anger flaring again. “how am i supposed to believe you?”

“listen, i don’t know who sent you that picture, but i swear, princess, i wasn’t flirting with her.” he stepped closer, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “you can ask my friends.”

you scoffed, crossing your arms. “i don’t trust your friends.”

he raised an eyebrow, his tone calm but firm. “you trust jungwon though. he was there.”

the mention of jungwon made you pause for a moment. jungwon was the calm one in the group, always reliable, and someone you could count on when it came to keeping things straight. but the one you should really keep an eye on was no one but jake. he was the king of stirring up trouble, and you couldn’t count the number of times he’d egged heeseung on to do something stupid.

your silence gave heeseung an opening. he softened his voice, stepping closer, but still keeping a little distance to test the waters. “look, i get it. i screwed up, and yeah, maybe i should’ve kept my distance from her. but you know me, baby. you know me. i don’t care about anyone else.”

you rolled your eyes, though your resolve was faltering slightly. “you’re always sweet-talking your way out of this stuff, heeseung. it doesn’t change the fact that you were grinning at her like she was the most interesting person in the world.”

“sweet-talking?” he repeated, a playful smirk creeping back onto his face. “baby, i don’t need to sweet-talk. i’m just telling you the truth.”

heeseung took another step forward, and this time you didn’t move back. he reached for your hands, holding them gently in his. his thumbs brushed against your knuckles in slow, soothing circles.

“i don’t want to fight with you anymore..” he said softly, his voice steady and earnest. “you’re the one i come home to. you’re the one i care about. that’s not going to change because of some random girl at a party.”

you crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “i’ll forgive you… only if you stop going to these stupid parties. and definitely not hang out when jake’s around.”

heeseung nodded quickly, a look of relief washing over his face. “i promise, no more parties like that. and no more hanging around jake if it’s going to make you this upset.”

you felt his hands gently grip your waist, but you didn’t pull away. instead, you looked him in the eyes, studying his expression. “i mean it, heeseung. i don’t care how much fun you think you’re having. if i ever catch you doing something like that again—”

“you won’t.” he cut in and gave you a reassuring squeeze. “no more parties, no more drama, just us.”

you let out a small sigh, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “good. that’s what i need to hear.”

you let him pull you into a hug, though you kept your arms at your sides, still not fully giving in. he pressed his chin against the top of your head, his voice soft as he muttered, “thank you, baby. i’m glad we’re on the same page now.”

you stayed there for a moment, both of you just breathing, when suddenly he froze, his expression shifting. “wait—” he said, looking toward the window. “the clothes.”

you followed his gaze, realizing he was just now remembering the mess outside. before you could say anything, he groaned and buried his face in his hands. “god, the neighbors must think we’re insane.”

you crossed your arms, smirking. “well, we kinda are.”

heeseung turned back to you with a playful pout. “can’t believe i almost lost my future wife and my home in one day.”

your cheeks burned at his words, but you refused to let him off that easy. “future wife?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “who said i’d marry you after this?”

he grinned, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around you again. “you’ll forgive me.” he said confidently. “you love me too much.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “you better start picking up those clothes before i change my mind.”

heeseung groaned dramatically, dropping his head onto your shoulder. “can’t we just leave them there? maybe the wind will blow them away or something.”

you pushed him off with a light shove, crossing your arms. “nice try. i’m not going to be the one explaining to the neighbour why your underwear is hanging from her tree.”

heeseung winced at the thought, rubbing the back of his neck. “fine, fine. but you’re helping me. you threw them out, after all.”

you raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. “oh no, this is all on you, mister. think of it as your punishment.”

he sighed, giving you a mock glare before turning toward the stairs. “you’re cruel, y/n. absolutely ruthless.”

“and don’t forget it.” you shot back, following him downstairs to the front yard.

the scene outside was somehow even more chaotic than you remembered. a couple of kids from down the street were pointing and giggling as they passed by, and neighbour from next door was giving heeseung a very disapproving look from his porch.

“great.” heeseung muttered under his breath, bending down to pick up a pair of socks. “i’m the neighborhood clown now.”

you couldn’t help but laugh as you watched him gather his clothes, his tall frame awkwardly hunched as he tried to scoop up as much as he could at once. “well, you kind of earned it.” you teased, leaning against the fence.

heeseung straightened up, his arms full of crumpled t-shirts and jeans. “yeah, yeah. laugh it up. just wait until i get back inside.”

you tilted your head, smirking. “oh? and what are you going to do? throw all your clothes back out?”

he flashed you a grin, the kind that made your stomach flip despite everything. “nah. i’ll just make you fold all of them.”

you rolled your eyes, but a small smile crept onto your face. “dream on, heeseung.”

he chuckled, shaking his head as he bent down to grab the last of his things. as much as you wanted to stay mad at him, moments like this reminded you why you’d stuck around for two years. heeseung was frustrating, infuriating even, but he was also the guy who could make you laugh when you least expected it.

as he stood up, arms overflowing with clothes, he looked over at you with a sheepish smile. “uh, a little help?”

you sighed, walking over to take some of the load off his hands. “you’re lucky i don’t actually hate you.”

heeseung’s grin widened as he leaned down to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “and i’m lucky you’re still here.”

[dayboundpapercrane]

Distant Dreams ⋆°·☁︎ [ ○ ]

caleb x reader (afab!) | MDNI 🔞 | cw: dubcon | cw: nsfw | cw: pseudo-cest (they are adopted man what do u want me to do) | drunk caleb debut on my writing | cw: alcohol (like just mentioned once at the beginning) | cw: voyeurism | cw: somno but just mentioned | gege/meimei usage | he comes clean about the weird shit he did (does), caleb may look sweet! But that's how he makes you fall for it. Fingering, he eats you out like it’s a one way ticket to heaven.

Request here ⋆⭒˚｡⋆✈︎

"On my actual knees begging you to write drunk Caleb PLEASE ARIII 🙏🏼 and him all wasted admitting all his perverted deeds, while you had no idea this was all happening as he admits it 😩 pleaseeee I need it. My only other request is that if you're comfortable with gege/meimei to add it, oh and Im picturing DAA Caleb 🥵💥"

Caleb is drunk. He insists he’s just tipsy, but the way his words drag, soft and slurred, and the way his wide, glassy eyes follow you like a kicked puppy— it’s clear he’s long past tipsy. He's wasted.

The DAA was celebrating some anniversary. Pilots had been drinking since noon, the whole campus thick with noise, smoke, air shows, and laughter. Caleb had invited you, called earlier in the day to remind you to come. But work kept you late. You arrived in the evening, just in time to catch the tail-end of the games and the sugar-sticky food stalls but too late to stop him from sliding into this soft, staggering version of himself.

It's late now. The party has thinned. You’d both had your fun. Gideon helped carry him back to the dorms, practically dropped him onto the bed, and grinned as he said, "when he heard you were coming, he lost a ping pong match from the excitement. And if he lost he had to drink, hence why he's in that state." Caleb groans into the mattress. You laughed and so did Gideon— Caleb shot him a look that almost burned and Gideon just kept laughing as he left you two to be.

It was just you and him again. Smiling you go over towards Caleb.

You lean towards him and brush back his hair, it’s damp, sticking to his forehead. He sighs at your touch, blinking up at you, cheeks flushed and pupils wide. Everyone thinks you're his here. Not his mei mei. His. He made sure of that. Said the girl in the photos was his girlfriend, said it so casually too, enough times that it became real around campus. You didn’t mind before in high school. You still don’t.

Not even after all the pretending blurred, holding your hand the way friends don’t, hugging you for so long, a possessive embrace, and then there's the kissing, it had started innocently, pecks here and there, kisses lasting longer, lips brushed, pulled, bitten, it spoke everything and nothing, he behaved the way friends and family don't. And you had also allowed it. Still do.

He had kissed you after you won in the shooting game stall. It wasn’t new, but this one burned. The same kind of ache as the first time when you’d asked for it. Back when he still lived with you. Back when your grandmother was downstairs cooking and you climbed into his lap, giggling, pushing past his protests. He kissed you. Touched you. Showed you how. And then he left, went to college, put up walls he didn’t know how to maintain.

You sometimes wonder what stopped him back then. You were shameless, reckless pushing boundaries. But he was careful. Always so careful.

Too careful for someone who let you kiss him like that. Too careful for someone who’s looking at you now like he’s drowning in something thicker than alcohol. You rub your thumb over his lip. He lowers his gaze, the red of his cheeks blooming down his neck. You think he’s about to fall asleep. But then, softly, like he’s confessing to someone in a dream—he starts talking.

"You know, back when we lived together, I used to go into your room at night and watch you sleep, watch you breathe softly against your pillow" he leans close to you as he says that pulling your waist closer to him.

You smile thinking that's cute, somehow it makes sense for him to do that. "Oh really? That's weirdly very you." he laughs a bit but shakes his head, grabbing your hand firmly. You turn to him again tilting your head.

"I watched you sleep at first, but then I…craved more, I started touching you, making you shiver, it got you sooo... wet" His hands start wandering on your thigh, sliding upwards making you breathe in, before your head takes in what he just said.

You freeze, eyes wide, stunned by the weight of his gaze and his words. His grip on you tightens— not painful, but unsettling, anchoring you in the moment like a tether. Confused, breath shallow, you nod slowly, once. "I see" you murmur, voice low, wary. "Is that all you did?"

"No, I also did worse over your underwear, I…" he sighs shakily, and looks down at your body "I rubbed my tip all over the slick fabric coating myself in your fluids, circling your clit, it made you moan so much I started thinking you were awake too and pretending, but no you weren't awake. I checked always."

Caleb pauses, his gaze faltering, unable to hold yours for more than a second. The alcohol has scrambled his thoughts into a tangle of half-confessions and regrets, and when his eyes finally find you again, they’re heavy—drenched in guilt. His voice cracks under the weight of it, shame dripping from every word.

"I'm disgusting, aren't I? You must hate me now. God—of course you do. I was awful to you. I was… horrible. Mei mei, I'm so sorry. Please—please forgive me."

His hands, trembling, drift up to your waist, bunching the fabric of your blouse like he’s clinging to it for absolution. The heat of his touch, the sharp blend of cologne clinging to his heated body, candy floss and alcohol on his breath—it all floods your senses until you can hardly think. Your heart races, panic and want colliding, and you push lightly against his biceps just to breathe.

Still, his words linger in your ears, unbearable in their rawness. All those years, all those moments he swallowed down, and you never saw it— not until now. Your pussy throbs, clenching at nothing as he admits all the depraved shit he did.

As if reading your mind, he pulls you closer, desperation leaking through his rapid words. His brow furrows, eyes wet with something that looks like guilt— but feels like a trap, a manipulation. You search his face, fingertips brushing his cheek in a strange gesture of comfort and interrogation.

"What else did you do to me, gege?" He flinches, a whine slips past his lips. The word hits him like a brick. His eyes squeeze shut whether in remorse or resistance, you can’t tell, his hands have moved to unclasp your jean skirt, fingers grazing your zipper directly, pulling, his hand slides inside, a moan slips past your lips when his fingers feel how soaked through you are.

That’s what finally pushes him over—the rot of his secrets, every depraved thought he’s buried, tumbling out in a drunken confession as if you were a shrine built only to witness his shame.

"I… stole your underwear. Your shampoos, lip balms—every piece of you I could get my hands on. I used them, touched myself with them. Your scent—it unravels me, drives me insane, it’s too good." His voice trembles, half-ashamed, half-delirious, a shudder crawling down his spine as if the admission itself brands him. He breathes you in again, greedy, like proof he isn’t lying. The bulge in his pants strains harder, pressing against the fabric as he moves his head lower, closer to your crotch.

Your fingers trace him with deliberate calm—along his cheek, the bow of his lips, down the line of his throat. He moans under the contact, brows furrowed, eyes fluttering as he leans helplessly into your hand like a repenting sinner aching for forgiveness. His hips grind into the air, restless, needy, every movement dripping with desperation he can’t swallow back.

"Hnn… I—hah… I used to go down on you almost every night. You’re such a deep sleeper, did ya' know? Watching you squirm, hearing those little noises… it was addictive. Sometimes you’d even have a wet dream. Was it me you were dreaming of?"

The words slam into you, shocking and filthy all at once. The twist of heat they spark makes it impossible to react coherently; your breath stutters, your body betrays you. Your back arches as his hands fumble at your skirt, tugging it down with a kind of desperate reverence, fingers unsteady as they try to drag your underwear with it.

"Ah! Wait, Caleb. Fuck, wait, what you're saying, it's...it's all real?" you grab his face holding his gaze.

Your cheeks burn, the truth hitting harder than you can process. All those nights of wet dreams, weeks of waking up flushed and aching, you never realized they were his doing. You never realized your sleep was that deep. Instinctively, you try to squeeze your thighs shut, but he’s already between them, your push only grazing his sides.

And god—every dream was of him. His hands. His mouth. His voice. Wanting him in ways you never should have. Was it really unconscious, or had your body been trained, molded, addicted to him without you knowing? Why did you prefer the latter.

Caleb sees it, the way your breath stutters, the way your gaze falters and his look is all wrong. Broken, twisted, desperate. "See?" he murmurs, pressing his forehead to your hips like a penitent sinner and a man possessed all at once. "Even when you were asleep, your body called for me. You wanted me. You needed me."

"I started getting greedier, let my touch linger, kissing you near your lips, embracing you closer, it only got worse the more I saw you….." he bites his lips and averts his eyes towards your chest rising up and down. "Rubbed these when they started growing in too" moving hands to rub at your breasts.

You moan softly, eyes rolling back as he admits sin after sin, your sweet and careful gege was only a facade he had mastered. Your hands slide on his dark strands, caressing his head as he slowly goes down, breath brushing your slick folds. Your clit pulsing in want.

His hands have moved to your hips, hold a tight grip. "If only you could ensnare my heart with your hands mei mei, make it stop, end this torture." His tongue licks your slit, pushing his tongue in, like a starving man he sucks and keeps a pace that drives you to the edge dangerously close, moaning into your skin, the rutting of his hips faster.

"When…when did you start doing this? When…why ge..." the words slam out of you as he keeps fucking his tongue into you. You pull at his hair so he faces you.

Caleb groans as he faces up, your touch has his him pliant on his inebriated state, breathless as your fingers tug at the strands, fingers just shy of pulling till it hurts him. "Hah I... I think when… you!— oh God that feels good." Drool drips off the corner of his lips when you inevitably pull harder. "When you got…that cut in your leg from jumping a tree, I…I lost it, the blood" he moans softly, grinding down his hips onto the bed.

"The blood— you had asked me to help you clean the blood on your legs" Right, you remember that day. You had indeed asked for help after playing out with your friends, he had cleaned and disinfected everything so carefully, but his touch that day had felt different, his lingering looks. His touch had burned your skin for weeks, still you refused to admit what had caused it.

"Mei mei" he slurs, voice thick with arousal, guilt and liquor "I’m sorry. I wanted you so badly it broke something in me. You drive me insane, it’s your fault." Then, softer. "But it’s fine. I love you. I swear it’s not to hurt you. You know that right… right?"

His hips rut against you, jerky, uncoordinated, as if his body can’t quite catch up to his words. He whines into your thigh, cheek pressing to your skin, every shudder betraying the high claiming him. The heat, the desperation, the mess inside his pants— it all hangs there, suffocating.

"Please tell me you forgive me, please, please don't hate me, I— I love you so much" You listen to his begging, slurry and with a hint of a sob stuck on the back of his throat.

His hand rubs at your entrance, a single finger sinking in, obscenely wet sounds echo, deafening as your climax crashes into you, screaming his name when his lips wrap around your clit sucking, pleasure unravels inside you in waves that don't stop. You whine softly, hips shaking away in overstimulation.

You press your hands against his head not knowing whether to steady him or restrain yourself. Your heart hammers, mind scrambling, caught between alarm and a pulse of something darker, forbidden. Every tremor from him feels like it’s pulling at your own body, and yet you refuse to meet his gaze. You’re tethered to him in ways you can’t name, and the tension twists tighter, a coil you can’t unwind.

Caleb sits up, unsteady, eyes glassy, his chin and neck adorned with your essence. His fingers fumble with his phone on his back pocket before he turns the screen toward you. "You think it's not true right, holding onto hope I'm still your kind and caring ge."

Your chest tightens, every instinct screaming, but you say nothing. You freeze, watching as he hovers the phone over your face—pictures, dozens of them, videos too of you whispering his name in the dark, moaning softly in your sleep, every inch of you captured. Some shots soft, peaceful; others raw, depraved, undeniable evidence, shots of cum in your face, others of just your drenched panties. A gallery of sin he’s hoarded like treasure.

Your stomach twists—not in disgust, but in something more primal, slow, impossible to name. You reach for his hand, snatching the phone away, pressing him down with trembling fingers. Silence hangs, thick and heavy, the room pulsing with unspoken truths. He watches you, breath uneven, guilt and desire warring in his eyes, while you hold your own stillness like a fragile shield— neither conceding, neither retreating.

"I took them for you, I can delete them all for you too I dont have copies" he says, voice hoarse. "Took them to show you. Someday. I watch them almost every night." He swallows hard. "You’re the only one for me, mei mei. I can’t even look at anyone else. I've tried.. you’ve ruined me."

You always knew he was sick. But this— this confession, this raw exposure of his depravity only thrills you. You should be horrified, you should scream, run, condemn him. But all you can think is 'He feels it too.' The longing. The desire. A craving that chews through reason like rot. Even your scent is enough to break him.

"Say something to me baby" he's doing that face, the one where he looks sad and desperate.

Your hands grasp his shirt, clinging. His breath hitches as you straddle him. His eyes never leaving yours, shame and arousal painting his face red. It flatters you to think he gets this way because of you. Makes you cruel, he looks up at you like you’re God and sin at once. He wants forgiveness but he’s still hard for it, inside his boxers leaking under your leaking cunt.

You lean in, whispering on his ear "You’re disgusting a gross pervert Caleb." Hands undressing his lower part, pulling at his belt and zipper.

"Yeah" he breathes, eyes fluttering. "But only for you."

And you, you don’t want to forgive him. You want to keep him ruined. His chest rises and falls. So you kiss him deeply before a word comes out, he moans into your lips hips jerking up.

"You've been using me all this time, while I was sleeping" you pull at his pants and underwear, his hips raise to help you remove them. "Should I start using you too gege?" That pulls a whine out of him. So sweet and lewd it makes your insides flutter. "Should I fuck you as you sleep through your orgasms?" Whispering on his ear to make him shiver.

He groans deeply into his pillow as you start rubbing him, sliding your hand up to squeeze his tip, the other down teasing his balls. He's breathing faster now legs tense. "Wan—want my mei mei to use me, please" he murmurs your name, pulling at your blouse taking it off you.

"Caleb, the pictures…the videos" you keep talking between his moans and gasps "Dont delete them…" he looks at your eyes briefly, a moan rips through his lips strongly when your hand moves faster on his thick length. "I wanna see them again" your heavy breathing doing nothing to conceal how much you want him right now.

His answering grin is wicked, and for the first time that night he looks sober.

A/N hope you like it anon ( *´・ω)/(；v ； ) had a lot of fun writing this considering I've been wariting much less perverted fic chapters lately HAHA and no dark themes, I missed it fr. I loved the idea of him being the type of drunk to just talk it all out (ToT) so cuteeee he's a yapper so it's a possibility. Anyways let me know what you think ♡

[mingismoralloyalty]

ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕝

✧ pairing: best friend!San x f!reader

✧ genre: smut / fluff

✧ au: non idol AU

✧ trope: friends to lovers / mutual pining

✧ wordcount: 3.6k

✧ rating: 18+ / Minors do not interact!

✧ summary: You two wake up after falling asleep while drunkenly try to sixty nine 🙃

✧ warnings: Mentions of drinking and drunk sexual acts (consentual), mentions of oral and fingering, cursing, breast play, nipple play, hand job, shower sex, unprotected sex (don't!), cumming inside

✧ authors note: Didn't intend this one to get so soft 🤔😂 and my god, why are they talking so much? 😂 I swear it just happened 🤷🏼‍♀️

✧ song: Heffron Drive - Parallel

You woke up to the soft rays of sunshine peeking through the light pink flowy curtains of your bedroom. Well, you weren't really awake yet, but slowly coming to your senses. Your fluffy blanket somewhere behind you, barely touching your skin. An unfamiliar hotness sticking to your face. Literally. Something hot and hard was pressing along your cheek. You figured it probably had to be your arm, since you hadn't moved it yet. You must have fallen asleep at a weired angle last night. Not really surprising, as the events of the previous evening slowly crept back into your brain.

You had been invited to a party by one of your good friends. And you remember you and your best friend San (who you liked a little too much to be only friends for so long now) were drinking way too many soju mixtures of everything you could find and think of.

No matter how many other people there were around you, San always liked to spend most of his time with you and it was a fun evening, but you definitely had to drink less in the future. A mental blank wasn't funny at all.

How did you come home? Did San make it home safely? Did he stay with you?

You tried to stir awake properly now and heard a low groan somewhere near you, but not really next to you. You tried to shift your legs a little, when you realize an uncomfortable sticky wetness spreading between them. Was his face lying on your thigh? You rubbed your eyes, to see what was going on and that's when you realised that the hot skin sticking to your face wasn't your arm but in fact San's dick! Your eyes opened in no time and you were fully awake instantly. Your head abruptly rising and taking in the picture right in front of you.

San fully naked.

You fully naked.

His head indeed lying on your thigh, drool dripping from his parted puffy lips. His hard on right next to you, a crusty stain of cum under his belly button. A red dent on his hip where your head had been lying.

"Fuck!", you whispered with a shakey voice, eyes wide open, looking at your best friends face, that slowly scrunched up, as he tried to wake from his deep slumber.

"Huh?", was the only thing he brought out sounding confused. "What's up, sweety?", he mumbled in his raspy morning voice and yawned, before sucking in the remaining drool from the corner of his mouth. He wiped it with the back of his hand, rubbed his eyes and when he opened them, he had nowhere else to look than straight towards your still slick coated pussy. "Huh?", he said again, even more confused now.

He lifted his head to properly to look at you. "What happened?", his gaze wandered over your naked bodies. "What did we do?", he asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

"Whatever it was, I guess we fell asleep half way through.", you lifted your eyebrows.

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry!", he said and you first thought he was talking about not finishing with you, but you realised that his boner was still pretty close to your face and he quickly covered it with his hand.

"Fuck! Is everything okay with you?", he sat up, trying not to ogle too much at your naked form. "Uh... yeah, I guess so. Just never slept with my face on a dick before.", you commented dryly. "Pff, probably wasn't really comfortable, huh?", he laughed and looked at the red imprint on his hip that you left there. "But it seems like you layed there all night, so... ", a teasing smile stole on his face. "Oh my god, leave me alone! What about you, hm?! Look at all the drool on my leg!", you said indignantly and gestured towards the small puddle on your skin.

Unconsciously he touched the corners of his mouth with his free hand while his gaze shifted to your soft thighs. His fingers felt funny, kind of... shriveled. They looked like he had been in the bathtub for too long.

"Uh, guess my hand was there for a long time too.", he showed it to you and slowly a red blush crept on his face. "Oh my god!", your eyes widened as you whined in embarrassment.

"Do you remember anything?", you asked kind of defeated, absentmindedly fishing for your blanket behind you, as if that would still make any sense after you both had already observed each other's bodies so intently just seconds ago.

"Ew, I feel so sticky.", your whiney tone came up again as you put your hand back in front of you, deciding not to soil your blanket with your body fluids.

"Hey, hey, calm down.", San said softly grabbing your hand with his free one. You could feel the odd texture of his fingertips and it made you feel even more awkward.

"Come on let's take a shower and we'll clean everything off, okay?", he suggested.

"T-together?", you stuttered. "Is that okay for you?", he asked softly, his gaze carefully looking for any kind of answer in your eyes. "Why would you want that?", you asked confused. "I don't know, probably because of the same reason I tried to finger you all night: I like you."

You had to let that sink in.

There he sat. Your best friend. Naked on your bed, one hand over his dick and one in your own hand. You liked him too, a lot to be honest, otherwise you wouldn't have woken up like this, you had to admit this to yourself.

But how would this continue?

Well, if you thought about it, giving in to your feelings was probably better than, being awkward with him for god knows how long.

"I-I didn't know you like me too...", you mumbled, putting your other hand over his. "Yeah", he laughed, "shocker, huh? I spent nearly all my time with you, act like a boyfriend and the only thing missing on my bingo card is sex, but hey, maybe I don't like you back.... babe, come on.", he tilted his head and gave you a half smirk, breathing out a silent laugh.

You couldn't help yourself but to laugh at your own twisted mind. "I'm sorry, I guess I'm pretty dense, huh?", you dropped your head for a moment, before smiling back at your best friend.

"Okay then... let's take a shower together, because... I like you like that, too.", you admitted and bit your lower lip, still smiling.

San sighed happily. "Thank you.", he said relieved, before standing up from your bed and pulling you with him. "Because I'm feeling a bit crusty and sweaty myself."

He grabbed you by the shoulders, turned you around and pushed you forward towards the bathroom.

When you both entered the shower and you turned on the warm water, the first cold drops directly hit San's torso and a short yelp escaped him, before his arms reached out to you again to press your warm body against his. You could feel his half hard cock pushing against you tummy and his wet body immediately warming up against your skin.

"Please, give me your warmth.", he said shivering. "Ah! You're cold!", you squealed and tried to wind yourself out of his grip, but of course he was way stronger than you. "Not my fault.", he mumbled and snuggled up to your naked form.

For a moment you only stood there, letting San hug you while hearing and feeling the water run. Your cheek leaned on his chest, looking at the droplets that ran down his tanned biceps. Timidly you placed your arms around his waist.

"Sannie?"

"Hm?"

"When did you realise you like me more than a best friend?", you asked quietly. "Oh... Uhm... Well I guess since a few months ago... when we were at Yunho's house watching movies together.", he said musing. "What about you?", he asked in return and you instantly bit your lip. "Uhm... I can't tell you... I-I'll tell you another time.", you stammered, nervously looking down to the bottom of the shower.

"Why? Was it that long ago?", he asked curiously, but you didn't say anything. Too embarrassed to answer. He lifted your chin to look you in the eyes, a bemused smile creeping on his face. "You always liked me right?", he tried to tease you. "No?!", you scoffed, trying to get your chin out of his grip. "You did!", his smile grew even wider.

"You always liked me~, you always liked me~!", he sang mockingly, swinging both your hips from side to side, as you tried your hardest not to get distracted by his erection pressed between your bodies.

"I did! Okay? Now shut up!... You're spending way too much time with Wooyoung acting like this.", you pouted. "Okay, okay, sorry... But you make me really happy.", he said his smile now genuine.

"Can I kiss you?", he then asked quietly and the voice in your head immediately screamed 'Yes! Yes! Yes!', so you nodded looking up to him, trying to control yourself: "Please."

He bowed down to you and softly layed his lips on yours, sighing into the kiss as if he was waiting to do this for a very long time. Well, obviously he did.

San then let his tongue slowly glide over you bottom lip until you opened up to it and let it slip inside your mouth. Now it was your time to sigh when you felt his tongue on yours and for a moment everything else was forgotten as you were engrossed in your deep kiss.

After what felt like multiple minutes he finally pulled back again. You took a deep breath and suddenly you were even more thankful that he held you tight to his own body.

"You know what?", he asked in a neutral tone.

"Hm?"

"You taste like me..."

"Oh my god!!!", you let your head fall on his shoulder, embarrassment hitting you once again. "I feel like a whore!", you whined and he chuckled. "Aww, come here baby, I make you feel like a princess.", he reassuringly rubbed your upper arms to get you to look back up at him. "I'll wash your hair.", he stated as he already grabbed for you shampoo bottle behind you.

He squeezed a good amount of it into his hand and put the bottle back into the little shelf. Foaming the shampoo up in his hands before massaging it into your scalp, all while his facial expression resembled a happy cat.

San seemed to adept so fast and naturally to this new situation, that you wondered why things hadn't changed between you before. You mustered his face calmly as he was busying himself with your hair.

He was so cute. He had always been. He always cared for you. That's why you fell for him, because not only did you share a lot of interests, but he was always so attentive towards you. You were just a bit blind.

He washed out your hair and put some of your strawberry shower gel in his hands, before he started to massage your shoulders.

Letting yourself fall and enjoy his touch, you were so lost in your thoughts while still looking at your lovers face, that you didn't realise at first when his hands wandered further down your body.

His hands gently rubbing your boobs in circular motions, while his dreamy gaze was fully fixed on them.

"Fuck, Sannie! What are you doing?", you tried to ask, when you suddenly realised what he was doing, as you couldn't hold a surprised moan that left your throat.

"Washing your body...", he commented innocently, his thumbs now toying with your perked nipples, sending shivers through your whole body.

"That's not-... You're not, you fucking liar!", you gasped against his lips when he looked back up at you. Your core starting to tingle.

"Your tits looked so soft, I had to feel them.", he said like it was an apology.

"You're unbelievable.", you laughed weakly and shook your head, before his skillful fingers caught you off guard making you lean into his touch with a needy whine.

Your own fingertips left his sides and you wrapped both arms over his broad shoulders, pressing another kiss to his mouth. He softly breathed out, pausing his movements and enjoying your affection. "You good, sweetheart?", he asked against your lips leaning his forehead against yours.

"Yeah, ...", you reassured him, "please, don't stop touching me like that, it actually feels really good.", you admitted.

San chuckled. "Okay then...", he hummed and let his hands glide down your sides to your back, squeezing your butt cheeks full-heartedly. Your breath hitched audible, a groan leaving San's lips while they wandered down the side of your neck, his hips instinctively rutting against your lower abdomen.

His movements made you instantly feel like a magnet to his body and every part of you was tingling, while you could feel more and more arousal gathering between your folds.

"Holy shit!... I... I think, I need you inside me.", you panted against his cheek, letting one hand wander to his hip, looking down between your bodies. His reddedend tip smeared with foam and milky precum sliding over your wet skin, your skin that was covered in goosebumps despite the warm water running down your back.

"You're sure, angel?", San asked detaching his lips from your neck to look into your eyes.

"Yes.", you answered with a shakey breath, hesitantly grabbing for his twitching cock with your prominent hand, letting it slowly pump up and down his hard shaft, your thumb experimentally circling around the small hole. His dick was thick and warm in your hand, the skin soft and slippery.

San inhaled sharply through his teeth. "Does it feel good?", you asked, looking up questioning, only to see that he had closed his eyes, eyebrows lifted blissfully. He nodded slightly. "Yeah...", he breathed, letting his mouth hang open. "Man, too bad I don't remember last night.", he laughed, his darkened eyes now focusing back on you. His gaze looked so hungry that you absent-mindedly had to gulp. "Well it seems like it was just a warm-up, so you don't have to be too sad, I guess.", you said quietly, looking back at your hand working on his member.

"Wow, you're really too cute and you don't even know it.", San lifted your face again, this time with only one finger. This man had nerves. Weren't your cheeks already red enough? Obviously not, because you could instantly feel them warm up even further.

San pressed a short heartfelt kiss to your slightly swollen lips and smiled contently.

"Okay princess, hold onto me. And put your leg up.", he instructed you as he leaned you against one of the shower walls, putting an arm under your lifted leg to support you. Your hands wandered back up to his shoulders, holding tight on his strong muscles, the water now only hitting his back.

Curiously you watched him how he guided his tip with his other hand to your entrance, collecting your arousal to lube him up before carefully entering you. You gasped for air as he slowly began to strech you out. It was a pleasant pressure, but you had to contract you pelvic muscles for a moment to adept to it.

"Fuck!", San groaned. "If you're already squeezing so tight around me, I don't know how long I can last.", he admitted with a light chuckle. "Don't worry, after this night I won't make it long either.", you giggled and bit your lower lip. "I repeat: you're too~ cute.", he cooed with pouty lips and shook his head lightly, his now free hand gliding back to your hip. "You have a strange definition of cuteness.", you said, raising an eyebrow.

"No no, I know what's cute.", San insisted, before he slowly sank into you making you exhale a sweet whimper. "See, that's cute."

Gradually he began to build up a rhythm until he almost completely pulled out of you, before pushing himself back inside as deep as he could. The hot skin of his pelvic pressed against your lower lips and your clit which felt surprisingly intense. You audibly moaned in response making him smirk, before he silenced you with a deep kiss.

It felt like your last kiss was way too long ago and that you desperately needed another one even though your mouth was barely doing anything else. Hungrily you pushed your tongue into his mouth, just to lose it absolutely when he started to suck on it. It was so overwhelming you had to pull back again to breath even though you really didn't want to.

"You're way too good at this.", you panted, holding yourself tight on his shoulders, while his new found rythm stayed steady.

"I just do what my instincts tell me to.", he said nonchalantly and even had the audacity to wink at you. This man was such a flirt and you knew he had more experience than you, but you were glad he never mentioned it to you.

You looked at him with heavy breath, admiring his sharp features, his eyes half closed as he mustered you silently, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, before his hand left your hip to wander up to your left tit to squeeze it. You moaned at the firm grip he had on you, your body streching towards his. He took this as an invite to let his hand glide to your back to pull you even closer to him, so he could burry his face in the crook of your neck and suck at the delicate skin. You could feel it bruise under his lips that were firmly pressing against you.

"San!", you gasped his name, a pleasant tingling sensation running through your whole body. Your fingernails digging into his shoulders and a downright pornographic moan left your lips, when you felt his tongue dancing over the freshly bruised skin.

"Sannie, I'm close!", you managed to bring out and he nodded. "Me too!", he said, letting his hand wander one more time. Now it had found it's way to your clit, moving his middle finger in quick circles over the small nub. "Fuck, San!", you pressed out desperately, straining every muscle you had in your body, before your orgasm finally hit you.

Bliss filled you. You closed your eyes, seeing hundreds of stars dancing in front of you. Rhythmically you humped against his hips, contracting hard around his throbbing dick inside you. Savouring the sensational feeling.

This way San reached his climax faster than he thought. He scrunched up his face, grunting next to your ear, his body tense against yours, as he spilled his seed deep inside your tight walls. "Fuck, you feel so good!", he panted, giving you a few more thrusts, before slowly loosening up again.

For a moment you both revel in your post orgasm bliss, holding each other tight, trying to catch your breath. San had a wide grin on his face and a small giggle escaped you as you opened your eyes again. You pecked his lips, looking happily at the crescent moons that were his eyes.

Gently San set your leg down, but still holding you up, carefully slipping out of you. It was a weired empty feeling for a moment, before you felt his warm liquid slowly seeping out of you and you scrunched your nose. San instantly noticed your discomfort and pulled you a bit more under the showerhead with him, reaching between your legs to clean you up. You winced as you felt overstimulated by his touch and instinctively tried to rotate your hips away from him, but San made a shushing noise, gliding with his fingers through your folds one more time.

Your cheeks were burning. Somehow this felt even more intimate than everything you had done today. "There you go.", he said quietly and comfortingly patted your butt.

It was so weired to see that he had fully transformed back into the sweetest little potato you've ever met. He looked so happy and content, like he would when playing with his cat. Almost innocent even, it was ridiculous.

You shook your head watching him, which made him put on a questioning look, his mouth a small pout. "Your duality is unmatched, Choi San.", you said honestly, but his eyes just got big with even more questionmarks. "What do you mean?", he asked confused. "You just look so damn cute right now.", you said, getting back your confidence and pinching his cheek. "Heyyy, I'm not cute.", he protested halfheartedly. "But I am?", you raised your eyebrow. "Yep.", he nodded eagerly. "Okay, whatever, but do you know what's definetly not cute: I feel so sticky and sweaty, even though we're still in the shower.", you laughed awkwardly.

"Okay, okay, I'm gonna wash you properly now.", San promised and put another big squeeze of your shower gel in his hand. "Alright and I wash you.", you quickly said, not wanting to miss a chance to touch his abs a bit more, now that you were officially allowed to.

So you eagerly took some of the shower gel aswell and started to let your hands glide over his chest and it felt so good to touch him like that. You felt every ridge, every tightened muscle under his soft tan skin. Slowly you let the past hour sink in. He was yours now and you were his. Oh, you felt all giddy when these words formed in your head.

"You look so good like this.", you said quietly.

"I do?", he said with a cocky cat smile raising an eyebrow and puffing his chest. Oh, fuck! This man! He could crush you with his little finger if he wanted.

© mingismoralloyalty

This is my own work of fiction. Do not copy, translate, feed to ai or report.

Credits: dividers by @diviniyae

[xomakara]

Hey, Cowboy

SUMMARY |  Mingyu's lap looks very inviting.

PAIRINGS |  Mingyu (SVT) x Reader

RATING |  Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked 

GENRE |  smut, pwp, established relationship

CONTENT/WARNINGS |  profanity, alcoholic consumption, grinding, unprotective sex, fingering, breast fondling, creampies, dirty talk, kissing, sucking, hair gripping/pulling, praising, oral sex (m.receiving), praising, multiple orgasms, deep dicking, size kink, riding/cowgirl, reader is turned on because of mingyu's stetson hat

LENGTH |  4,097 words 

TAGLIST |  –

NETWORKS |  @k-vanity @ksmutsociety @keopihaus @cosyhomenet @winerys-collection

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Because we all love Cowboy!Gyu~

Seventeen Masterlist

"Hey, Cowboy."

Mingyu looks up from his phone to catch your eyes. Sitting on the couch with a Stetson hat perched atop his head, he looks positively comical and you can't help but laugh at the picture.

Mingyu shakes his head playfully. "I'm your boyfriend. The least I can do is pull these hats from storage for your enjoyment."

"I knew I kept you around for a reason," you quip back. In all honesty, you never were much of a fan of Mingyu's endless stash of props... 

Until today that was.

As much as you hate to admit it, the way he’s sitting on the couch, legs spread open invitingly, and with his mouth tipped upwards ever so slightly made him look every bit like the epitome of sex. You just hoped Mingyu hadn't caught onto your blatant ogling and thankfully, your prayers were heard and you quickly realize that Mingyu had absolutely zero clue about what was going on in your head.

Mingyu simply rambles on, asking where the rest of his friends were and whether or not he'd be allowed to post the pictures without their consent, as if his hat and lap wasn't doing things to you.

Oh, the things he was doing to you.

When Soonyoung invited you and Mingyu to the SVT frat costume party that he randomly decided to throw, you didn't really know what you had signed up for. In all honesty, you agreed because your friend insisted and who were you to deny one of his random party ideas anyway? You and Mingyu decided to go as cowboys, since you had this cute, little skirt that would go well with some boots and he had a Stetson hat lying around.

However, as soon as you and your boyfriend arrived, Soonyoung and Seokmin had immediately dragged the two of you aside and doused you with alcohol.

Mingyu doesn't know a single thing of the thoughts racing in your head, because instead, his focus is directed onto his phone once again. It's really nothing out of the ordinary, until he hooks a finger in between the button of his shirt and tug ever so slightly that causes his shirt to be unbuttoned, exposing some of the lean muscle hidden there. Your eyes linger for a bit too long on his chest before he finally notices and looks back at you curiously. "Are you okay?" He asks and you cough out awkwardly.

"Um... yeah," you mutter quietly.

"Good, good... then I'll take more photos!" Mingyu says excitedly. He grabs your arm, pulls you down into his lap in one fell swoop while snapping multiple pictures at the same time, and before you even have a chance to question him, he's already scrolling through the photos and posting them onto his social media page.

Once he's posted a sufficient amount of pictures, Mingyu finally puts his phone down and gazes up at you with bright eyes, nearly causing your heart to skip a beat. "I'm so glad we took these photos. My baby looks hot as a cowgirl."

His arms encircled your body, pressing you further onto him, and he drops a quick, chaste kiss on your cheek.

You lick your lips as the friction makes your heart pound wildly. "Y'know Mingyu..." you whisper. "You're quite the sex icon with this cowboy thing..." And maybe it's because you've downed several cups of Soonyoung's cheap, vodka laced punch, but there's nothing stopping you from saying the most idiotic thing in your life, "Can I suck your dick?"

You watch your boyfriend's expression go from innocent to utter shock. For a moment, you actually think you see his ears tinge red, but you blink once again and the color is gone. "E-excuse me? Did I hear you right?"

"...yes?"

Mingyu sputters out in surprise, fumbling with his words and you can practically see his mind ticking as the gears turn, desperately attempting to process the information. "...what?" He finally manages to whisper in a quiet voice, not quite meeting your eyes and you shrug helplessly as you knelt on the floor and between his spread legs.

"Please, Mingyu? You just look so good in that hat and..." you trail off as you glance back up at your tall boyfriend, this time completely noticing the way his cheeks tint red in the dim lighting. "Your lap just looks so inviting." You pout as your fingers dance along the edge of his jeans, enjoying the way his lips curl and hips buck ever so slightly in an involuntary reaction.

"You're just joking. Right?"

"...no." You feel his eyes follow the movement of your finger that lightly strokes the inside of his thigh and you chuckle to yourself at the sharp hiss he lets out when you caress his crotch. 

"Come on, babe," he attempts one last time, still unable to look directly into your eyes. "Don't do this to me." Mingyu had no doubt noticed the bulge in his pants growing.

"Pleaseee?" You trail off as you eye his crotch, silently admiring the way Mingyu's bulge is prominent, leaving no room for imagination. "I know you've been looking at my ass this entire night," you smirk as your eyes lock with his.

Mingyu groans audibly as his teeth sink into his bottom lip in a valiant attempt at stopping his desire from leaking out. "Fine. Okay... let's do it." You can tell how desperately his cock must ache inside his pants, evident by the way he palms the outside of his thigh. "But if we're doing this... let's get somewhere a little more private."

After several moments of frantically looking, the two of you finally end up tucked in a secluded room that looked like an office. Luckily the music blasting in the frat house was so loud, that no one could even bother to be quiet and the entire hallway is flooded with the sounds of moans and sex. No one will dare to bother you in a place like this.

"Okay, you bad little cowgirl," Mingyu teases as he takes a seat on the leather couch, leaning back so his head is resting against the top. "I'm all yours to do whatever you want." You can only stare in awe as his fingers curl around the band of his jeans. "Anyways, it's time for you to claim your prize."

You slide your way to your knees, keeping your eyes locked onto Mingyu the entire time and only finally breaking off when you face his lower region. Mingyu is quick to undo his belt and quickly unzip his jeans and for the first time, you realize he'd gone commando tonight, causing a sudden spike in arousal as Mingyu's length bounces free of its constraints and smacks against the skin of his lower stomach.

You love how big your boyfriend is in every possible way, and it should really come as no surprise, considering his height and large frame. But, Mingyu's size never ceases to surprise you no matter how many times he's made love to you, whether that be from his long slender fingers to his tongue and his cock. You moan to yourself quietly as you wrap a fist around his cock and watch the foreskin glide back and expose his tip. You trace a finger along his head, enjoying the way the precum starts to trickle out the tip of his cock before you lift a hand up and suck in one of the fingers coated with precum, earning a sharp hiss from Mingyu.

His voice is strangled when he manages to choke out your name, the action catching him by surprise. "Naughty, naughty." Mingyu remarks softly. "You just love seeing me hard, don't you?"

"Hm... maybe, yes," you murmur, watching the way your hand easily moves up and down Mingyu's length before he inhales sharply, bucking his hips wildly, unable to help himself from fucking your hand. "Maybe I'll just bring you off with my hands alone tonight. That'd be quite a show."

"Fuck..." Mingyu mutters out through a clenched jaw when he watches the way you stroke the base of his cock lazily. "No more teasing. Just put your mouth to good use."

With one, final squeeze, you press the tip of Mingyu's thick cock past your lips and you instantly hear him groan above you. Mingyu's dick tastes bittersweet and is hot on your tongue and you love the taste. With a new surge of arousal pulsating through you, you're determined to take him as far as you can, forcing yourself past the initial gag reflex. Your nails dig harshly into his upper thighs, leaving light crescent marks with your touch, but you figure it'll just add to his enjoyment, judging by the way his head tilts upwards as another low moan falls from his mouth.

Your name escapes Mingyu's lips with such breathlessness that has your lower regions tingling pleasantly.

But you're not completely happy, seeing as to how he's not touching you the slightest. A whine slips from your throat as you grip Mingyu's thigh a bit too harsh, causing him to cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain and glance back down towards you, blinking in surprise. "Shit, Gyu," you mumble around his cock. Your hand is still palming his erection and the tip glistens under the lamplight with your spit.

His eyes narrow to meet yours in confusion. "What's wrong?" He questions, voice dripping with lust. "Isn't this what you want?"

It doesn't matter how drunk or sober you are, his dick feels fucking great in the hot confinement of your mouth and honestly? You can't get enough of the taste of him. The sensation of Mingyu's dick is almost better than any drug. "Nothing's wrong, except the fact you're not touching me Gyu," you complain quietly. "At least hold my hair or something. Let me know how well I'm doing."

A sinful smile teases on Mingyu's face. "Needy." Is the only warning you get before you feel fingers curl around your hair tightly, tilting your chin and pushing you farther down on his thick length. Instinctively, you roll your eyes back as his heavy cock hits the back of your throat, sliding into place without so much of a single choking. "Is this better for you?"

You can't answer, not like this with his cock filling up every bit of your mouth, so you can only respond to him by wrapping your tongue against him, bringing your hand back to grip and fondle with his balls. Mingyu curses and tosses his head back to rest on the edge of the couch, hips rolling slightly with each drag of his shaft along the warm and velvety texture of your mouth.

"Good girl," he grits through his teeth as a shot of hot pleasure rolls throughout his body, settling just below his abdomen. There's not much thought behind his words as they tumble past his tongue in the form of praise. Mingyu's vision nearly goes hazy when you begin to hum lightly around the base of his dick. The vibrations send him near the edge.

The pressure becomes too much for Mingyu to take. His hand that had been resting in your hair so lightly tightens its grip. You try not to let the small squeaks leave your mouth, knowing they'll go unnoticed but with his fingers clenched into a fist around the back of your head and forcing your lips so close to the base of his thick cock, tears of over-stimulation start to spring from your eyes as he begins to fuck your mouth. "Fuck! Shit, coming!" Mingyu barely chokes out in a rough and guttural voice, not that you could've heard him. Instead you're treated to a low, guttural groan as he arches his back from the couch, completely at the mercy of Mingyu's hold.

Your taste buds are overwhelmed with Mingyu's. He's salty and bitter and sweet and warm and so fucking delicious on your tongue. You swallow everything, desperate not to allow even a drop of the precious and addicting taste to leak from your mouth.

After you've cleaned Mingyu's spent cock with your tongue and licked every droplet of cum from his cock, you got up and shimmy your way onto Mingyu's lap once again, not minding the softening dick beneath your core. 

Mingyu blinks in surprise at you. "What are you planning now?"

"Trying to save a horse by riding a cowboy," you answered teasingly while pressing a wet, hot kiss against his lips. "Help a girl out, won't you cowboy? Show me what you're really made of."

Mingyu takes his bottom lip between his teeth, dark brown eyes reflecting the moonlight from the window, and there's something in his gaze that you can't help but find hypnotizing. He grins slyly at you, "The real question is, how quiet are you going to be for me?"

"Who said that I'll be quiet?" You quip with a laugh, causing Mingyu to throw you an incredulous look.

"The rest of our friends are downstairs and here we are, trying to keep quiet," he whispers into your ear, leaving you weak at his voice. His warm breath fans against your neck and a sudden tremor shakes through your core. Mingyu places a swift bite and lick to the side of your neck, no doubt creating a bruise that's visible for the rest of the world to see. His lips quirk upwards. "Just hope you won't be too loud, my little cowgirl. Otherwise everyone will know just how much you were begging to take my cock."

"Maybe I want them to hear," you grind against his cock and whimper at the lack of stimulation on your needy and soaked core. "Maybe I want them to know how much your dick fills my needy little pussy."

"Baby," Mingyu growls quietly with another harsh tug at your hair. His cock is slowly growing hard underneath the thin fabric of your skirt. "Keep talking like that and see where it'll get you."

You can't find a response. Instead all you can muster is a gasp when you feel Mingyu insert his fingers past the soaked fabric. It isn't enough. "Mingyu..." Your breathing grows ragged when you feel Mingyu's thumb swirl in circles on the inside of your slit and at the same time his fingers that are covered by your juices plunge in and out in a torturous rhythm.

"Well someone's wet," you hear Mingyu comment smugly as he retracts his digits from your folds to the open air. He chuckles at your silent protest, observing the string of glistening liquid connect from his fingers and to your crotch before grinning at you. "Look at how wet you are just from me fucking your mouth. You want a real taste? Cum on my fingers and we'll go from there, baby. Show me just how wet you can be and then, only then will you get what you want."

Mingyu plunges his long and thick digits into your dripping cunt and you cry out. "G-Gyu…" you whisper out as a surge of pleasure runs through you. Your wetness completely drenched Mingyu's hands, covering it in the scent and the warm texture of your arousal, as his fingers work relentlessly.

"Look at me," Mingyu commands sharply in your ear and you snap to attention instantly. Your half-lidded eyes meet Mingyu's burning gaze and the sly smirk on his face leaves you a panting mess as your cunt clamps onto his hand. "Fuck what the rest think," you hear Mingyu grunt and his free hand is pulling you close, with his nose pressed just below your ear, warm breath tickling the shell of your ear as he whispers. "Show everyone how badly you want me to fill you."

The burning heat that was pooling in your belly grows into a raging forest fire. Every bit of you is coated with the flames. Mingyu fucks you with the fingers, mercilessly curling and plunging at the exact right spot to make you squirm as his thumb continues to tease and draw circles around the little bundle of nerves. "Close. I-I'm coming, Mingyu."

His lips twist into a handsome smile, sending a surge of confidence. Mingyu ducks his head to hover dangerously close over your bare chest and after giving your breast a quick squeeze, bites harshly, causing a surge of pleasure-pain to tear through you. Your juices flow copiously and a whimper of pleasure escapes from you before you can stop it. Your muscles clench tight, your toes curl into the soft leather sofa and your head falls back against Mingyu's shoulder in ecstasy. Mingyu continues to piston his fingers within your velvety heat until he draws every ounce of the orgasm out of your trembling body.

Mingyu pulls his sticky digits from your now throbbing pussy, and brings the cum-covered fingers to his own lips. "You taste so good, babe," he whispers before looking back to you and bringing his fingers to your lips. "Open up." Obediently, your lips part for the fingers to slip past. Mingyu's long fingers dance within the warmth of your mouth, groaning at the warmth enveloping his fingers. "Good girl."

You want more. Even after being rewarded by the most earth-shattering and satisfying orgasm, your greedy core aches to be filled again. 

By him.

Lifting your hips and moving your panties to the side, you guide Mingyu's hard length into you without a single second thought. When you're fully seated, you finally release a content breath and slump into Mingyu's wide chest. "Fuck Gyu, you're so big," you manage to huff out in a high-pitched tone, breathing in the musky scent of him. "God, I needed this."

"How are you feeling?" Mingyu's palms glide gently down the smooth skin of your thighs.

You kiss him with fervor, cupping the back of his neck to pull him further towards you. "Just wonderful," you mumble against him before pulling away with a soft smile and then sink down on the firm length, savoring every inch of him. Mingyu is very large and girthy, and fills you nicely, with just the right amount of stretch. "Let's find out just how well your little cowgirl can ride you, cowboy."

"Be my guest," Mingyu licks his lips and sinks further down the sofa, eyes darkening. "Have a nice ride."

You begin a gentle pace, moving up and down his hard length and delighting at the sight. Mingyu's grip on your hips are so hard that you're almost sure that it'll be imprinted on your skin in the form of hand prints for days after. "Shit, Mingyu. You always feel so good." You whimper, rocking your hips at a rapid pace and enjoy the way Mingyu's thick cock drags in and out of you. "Fuck."

You curse, but Mingyu's attention is on the way you arch your back into him. He bites harshly on one pert nipple while his fingers massage the other, sending a current of electricity throughout your body. His deft hands trail up your body to cup your breasts and you shiver when his thumbs flit over the tingling peaks of your nipples, your pace never faltering even for a second.

He continues to play with the aching and sensitive peaks of your nipples, switching from harsh flicks to gentle strokes. All of these actions cause you to move faster. Without even a moment's hesitation, you latch your mouth onto his and tug the hat that still lays perched atop Mingyu's head over to your own and laugh.

The room is filled with the lewd sounds of flesh hitting flesh and Mingyu groans underneath your ministrations. You've finally gotten a proper rhythm and pace going and with a tilt of your hips, you're seeing stars every time his cock strikes you at the perfect spot within you. "Do I look good in your hat, Mingyu?"

"I get why wearing the hat is a turn on," Mingyu rasps out as you continue to rock your hips and tighten yourself against his shaft.

"If you lose the hat, I'm not fucking you," you threaten teasingly and giggle, to which he rolls his eyes fondly, settling against the cushion and contentedly gazing up at your flushed, sweaty face with his cock deep inside you.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Mingyu begins to grunt, hips jumping slightly. "Wouldn't dream of losing that hat," he swears with a nod.

"Promise?" You hum, brows raised innocently, not quite expecting Mingyu to reach up and press your hands in his hair, eyes gleaming dangerously. 

"Now why would I want to lose the hat, if all it takes is getting to fuck you like this?" Mingyu questions, the corners of his lips tilting into a smile before snapping his hips upwards.

"Shiiiit, I like where this is going." The last syllable escapes you as a long moan.

Mingyu laughs against your mouth. He winds the loose strands around his fingers and lightly pulls them out of your eyes to look at you properly. "Then do a good job, sweetheart. Keep riding."

You catch his lips in a desperate kiss, nipping at his lower lip with your teeth, as you rock down, pressing his length impossibly deeper inside you and grinding your clit down against the soft, tuft of hair that lay nestled above Mingyu's length, groaning at the friction, then slowly rise up again. The slow movement allows you to feel his full length and girth filling you to the brim.

Mingyu hisses. "Oh fuck... not going to last," he moans as his hips stutter against you.

"Me too," you whisper, rocking at a steady pace, fully enjoying the feeling of his hot dick as it stretches and hits the deepest parts inside you. The heat and pressure feels far too amazing, as a second orgasm creeps along your belly. "Going to... cum, again." You manage to stutter out, overwhelmed at how each thrust is jarring you so much to the point the sofa creaks lightly under you.

"That's my girl," Mingyu grits his teeth at your words, eyes rolling to the back of his head before fixing you with an intense glare. He's on the brink. There's absolutely nothing hotter than watching your pretty mouth form his name as you come undone in his lap. "Come on, do it. Cum for me."

"Cum in me, Mingyu," you beg as you dig your nails in his shoulders. "Let's cum together."

A roar rips through his lungs and with a shudder, Mingyu's release paints your inner walls and the stimulation is more than enough for you to also cry out as a second climax washes over you, his hot cum spurts into you and leaks past to his balls.

"Fuck..." Mingyu grunts with a groan as he tries to even out his breathing. "Goddamn that was really, really great." His length is softening, and he is coated in a light sheen of sweat.

You settle on top of him, sighing in pure happiness as he twitches and pulses within your overly-sensitive cunt. He rubs your hips gently, fingers squeezing in silent reassurance. "It was so, so, so good," you mumble back. You press a chaste kiss on his cheek with a smile and slide off of Mingyu, still whimpering slightly and reveling in the feeling of your cunt clenching around nothing and feeling empty. "I'm never letting you lose that hat."

His mouth turns upwards into an exhausted but affectionate smile and he rests his hat once more on your hair and begins to redress himself before glancing over at you, shaking his head in amusement. "Ready to head back?" He questions, to which you nod silently, allowing him to button up his shirt once again. "Round two back home?"

You smile devilishly and peck your boyfriend on the lips before stepping up to walk straight to the exit. "Round two begins the moment we enter the apartment," you laugh lightly as Mingyu saunters over and links his fingers with yours.

The music in the house is muffled from upstairs but a constant steady thumping of a drum set to a base. "Sure. You're not getting any sleep tonight, baby."

"Well, it's a good thing I can ride you like a horse all night long, cowboy." You place his cowboy hat on his head, giggle and pat him on the cheek and are practically dragging Mingyu towards the door with a happy smile. "Time to let a woman prove that she can save a horse and ride a cowboy!"

© xomakara All works on this blog are protected under copyright. I do NOT allow any of my works to be entered into any form of AI.

[twinklelilstarkey]

Tutor: Feel-good

Words: 7k+ Summary: Rafe doesn't like how much Sarah wants to hang out with you, while you don't see what the problem is. And if there is anything that defines Rafe Cameron, it is petty. Warnings: Fem!Reader. SMUT {no condom, piv, biting, dirty talk, a bit of dacryphilia}, mention of alcohol consumption, petty silent treatment (because Rafe will always be petty in my fics).

Tutor Masterlist

A/N.: This chapter wasn't exactly planned. So enjoy it as the day off drama for my two babies <3

It is the day before your graduation ceremony, so the days have gone by pretty quickly since you left your parents’ home. You’ve received your results from your last exams, you got the answer back from UNC-Chapel Hill, and your summer is finally starting. Nothing's holding you back now. There are no more secrets. No more drama. Nothing. It’s just you, Rafe, and, of course, Patty.

“I’m starting to think they love you more than me,” Patty says as you two look through the snack aisle.

They, meaning her parents, got home last night with no prior warning and discovered you living in their spare room. You expected to be given at most a week to pack your things and go. Nope, you got invited for dinner and got wine drunk with her mom as you celebrated your high school grand finish with straight A’s.

“You’re exaggerating.” You roll your eyes.

“I wish I were,” She sighs dramatically, “But they’ve literally just texted me after we left the house to make sure that you wear sunscreen.” And you laugh uncontrollably at that.

Maybe you had a magic touch with families. After all, Rafe’s wasn’t much different. You haven’t been to his house to tutor Wheezie ever since she got done with her exams, but he has been telling you how Rose wants you to come over for dinner nearly every night. And Sarah has been nagging him non-stop to finally have your number, since you’re a lost cause when it comes to answering DM's on social media. Also, Wheezie has always loved you, so dating her brother only really made things that much better for her. And Rose and Ward welcomed you, maybe a little too fast, after the party.

With your hands full of your favorite snacks, you decide to abandon not-so-only-child-anymore Patty to go leave them at the register and vacant your hands once more. There, some drinks already wait to be paid for, but you assume Rafe and Kelce are still going to grab some more. You offer the girl working at the register a small smile, which she answers back with one of her own, and the sound of the ringing bell of the door invades the small store.

You look over to find Sarah and her friends soon follow. You’ve never formally met them, but you’re sure many people could recognize them from afar. It’s the usual group of JJ, John B, and Kiara, though Pope is nowhere to be seen. Probably waiting in the van, just like Topper is waiting at the Jeep.

Sarah’s squeal of excitement fills the store when she sees you, and before you can even smile at her, her arms are securely around you, pulling you into a hug.

“Oh my god, I finally get to see you,” She exclaims, “Rafe has been an asshole and refuses to give me your number.”

She pulls away from the hug to look at you, and her excitement is contagious, making you smile at her back.

“I’m not sure why he’s not giving you my number,” You try to justify, “I’ve told him to do it-”

“He's a gatekeeping bitch, that’s why.” She says, probably knowing that he’s somewhere in the store and might hear him. “I only want to go shopping or hang out with you. He acts like I’m trying to steal you away every time.”

You laugh at her frustration, and as you pull your phone out to give it to her - in a silent gesture for her to give you her number and text herself - you notice that her friend group has not moved on with their shopping without her. They’re all looking at you two.

You can tell from some faces that, at least, John B. and JJ don’t recognize you, but Kiara surely does. You went to middle school together, after all. The guys look at you as if they’re not sure about you, whether to like you or not. Sarah surely likes you, but, from the conversation they’ve heard till now, they’re not all that sure about you anymore. Kiara, on the other hand, seems bored with having to wait for Sarah, but her face grew into annoyance pretty quickly.

Sarah grabs your phone from your hands to type in her number, and, as you begin watching her do it, a hand appears from behind you and snatches the phone. You two look up to find none other than the true enemy of this friendship, your boyfriend.

“You are unbelievable,” Sarah tells him, her tone full of frustration and pure hate.

“Leave my girl alone, Sarah.” He tells her, serious as all hell. “If you have something to say to her, say it to me first and I’ll pass on the message.”

You scoff at his behaviour and smack him on the stomach. He looks down at you in response.

“Give her my phone, Rafe.” You tell him, and he’s unmoving. “We just want to hang out, what’s so bad about that?”

“I don’t trust her,” He motions at his sister, “She’ll convert you into her little tribe there-”

And that’s enough to startle the thin peace among the Pogues. Kiara, who had stayed back and been silent, now scoffs at the loudest volume she could muster, and JJ takes his cap off his head in utter disbelief. You notice that Rafe’s mouth twists up in amusement, and you only shake your head at him.

“My phone.” You outstretch your hand at him, “Please.”

“Please, nothing.” Sarah interrupts, “Give me her phone, dofus. You have no right. It’s her phone, she doesn’t have to ask you for anything…” She keeps going.

You sigh as they start to fully argue in the most sibling way possible, and you can’t help but share a look with the girl at the register. Even she is dumbfounded.

Sarah and Rafe continue to call each other the most outrageous names while also fighting for their right to either spend time with you or 'look out for your safety,' as ridiculous as that sounds. You think about walking away, but you’re literally the only person on Sarah’s side, and you don’t want her to lose this battle.

Halfway through Rafe’s sentence, you put your hand in his pocket and grab his own phone. Sarah and Rafe are too distracted in their argument to notice you at first, but then Sarah’s phone dings loudly.

They pause mid-sentence, and you lock Rafe’s phone.

Sarah reaches and looks down at her phone, reading the just-received text from her brother, with your number on it. Rafe doesn’t have to read it to understand what just happened, so his eyes go to you, disappointed, as you return his phone to his pocket. You look up at him after. A little startled to already find his eyes on you, you give him a small smile, and it’s enough for Rafe to calm down his staring and lose his previous deadly look.

His sister then starts laughing in his face, and you can’t help but smile a little. Rafe rolls his eyes and decides to take his brooding self elsewhere. You watch him disappear into the cold section of the small store, back to grab more drinks with Kelce.

John B. and JJ decide they’ve seen enough and go look through the store to find what they need, but Kiara stays back with Sarah, which intrigues you. Is she also 'looking out' for Sarah? Just like Rafe had with you?

“... Wheezie needs to come with us too, she has been telling me how much she misses you.” Sarah continues telling you about your plans together. “We could have a sleepover!”

You smile at her, “Sure!”

“Do you want to come with us, Kie?” Sarah asks, turning her body to face her friend. Your eyes go to her too, and she stares back, unstartled from being, all of a sudden, included in your conversation.

“Nah, I think I’m good,” she says directly to you, which confuses you. It’s as if you’re the reason for her answer, even if you two haven’t spoken in years.

Sarah doesn’t accept that, “Oh, come on. It’d be so fun!” Her volume rises in excitement, “I haven’t had a girls' night in so long. You have to come!”

Patty appears beside you with a lot of chips and other savory snacks and lays them on the counter beside you. She doesn’t say anything yet, but she studies you and Sarah for a bit, almost as if waiting for something. You can’t help but chuckle.

“Do you want to come too, Patty?” You invite her, only raising Sarah’s excitement by a million, because: more girls!

“Kiara, now you have to come with us,” Sarah tells her friend, but Kie is unmoving. “Why not?”

“Not exactly my crowd,” She answers with a shrug. Her eyes stay on you and on Patty as if to appoint the crowd in question with her eyes.

“Okay…” You say in a low voice, only for Patty’s ears to hear. You turn to her and then to Sarah, not enjoying the vibe that has been laid out between all the girls after that. “I’ll go help Rafe with the drinks.”

Kiara’s slight reaction to your words gives you a good enough justification for her tone towards you. Her problem with you begins and ends with your association with Rafe. Good to know. She’s not the only one.

You send both your friends a short smile and disappear into the closest aisle to get out of Kiara’s sight. You walk by JJ and John B, who go silent when you walk beside them, and then finally reach the fridge section.

Rafe is with his back to you, staring at the open fridge as Kelce does most of the work to find the drink they want, and, when you reach him, you playfully nip at the skin of his arm. Rafe doesn’t even react. You frown and move to stand beside him, looking up at his face, but he doesn’t meet your eyes.

Rafe Cameron is sulking, people.

He shares some words with Kelce while you just stand there for a bit, and he continues to ignore you, even when Kelce includes you in the conversation too. You move closer to him, and, thankfully, his sulking doesn’t extend to avoidance because he doesn’t distance himself from you. With that information, you wrap your arms around his waist, as you always do, and kiss his chest. No response, so you smile and keep your body wrapped around his anyway.

Kelce disappears with the rest of the drinks to finally pay for everything, and Rafe leans away from the fridge door to follow him. But it’s difficult for him to do so when you’re still hugging him.

He struggles to walk, but he doesn’t move you out of the way. He’s petty enough to prefer to struggle rather than lose his silent protest against your actions. You don’t take it to heart, and he knows you wouldn’t. You just laugh into his shirt and let him go, before saying, “Fine. Be moody!”

You walk back to the register with a giddiness nevertheless present in your heart, and go help Kelce and Patty put all your purchases in bags. Rafe only shows up to swipe his card and pay for everything. And, after that, you all leave for the Jeep outside. You say your farewells to Sarah, and she smiles widely as she waves you goodbye.

(...)

It’s been a few good hours since the store, all of you have been in Rafe’s family’s boat ever since you’ve bought everything you needed, and, since then, all you’ve done is drink, swim, and lie in the sun. The, finally, good enough start of your summer.

Rafe… is still sulking, but not in the traditional way. Everyone has noticed his silent pity party to himself, but he talks and interacts with everyone else but you. That’s why they caught on so early. You still take everything he’s doing as a joke and continue on with your life. You still love him as if he’s reciprocating it, and, though he’s ignoring you, he doesn’t seem to hate it all that much.

After baking in the sun for enough time, your bikini is already mostly dry again, and you’re on your way to find a drink. You’ve been talking to Patty while in the sun for most of the time, so you have no idea what the guys have been doing ever since you left them in the water.

You go down a few steps after leaving the front deck, and you can already hear Topper and Kelce’s voices on the other side of the boat, probably still by the water. You grab Rafe’s shirt from the couch in the aft deck and pull it over your head, tying it at your stomach due to the heat.

You enter the dining area of the boat by pushing open the door, and your eyes fall on the half-naked man. “Hey, grumpy,” you say as you walk towards him. No answer. You kiss his hot skin as you walk past and go grab a glass.

You look around for the water bottle that you guys bought and see it in front of Rafe. You scootch in closer and try to reach the bottle as you say, “Excuse me” in a whisper. He does respond to you this time, not moving out of the way like you asked, but by grabbing the bottle and pulling it closer to you so you can reach it. And, just to get on his nerves: “Thank you, baby. I love you so much!” You enthusiastically say.

Still no response, but you can’t exactly see his face as he looks down at his phone, so you drink your water and lean against the cold stone of the counter. Rafe’s attention continues to be on his phone, so you lean in close until your bodies are touching. Rafe stops typing, and you see it as an opportunity to spy on what he’s doing.

You never felt so disappointed in your life. He’s, quite literally, answering emails.

“You’re no fun,” you whisper into the skin of his tanned and naked arm, “I don’t even think I recognize you.”

No response, so you do the second-best thing and start touching him more. Alcohol is already well a part of your system, so you welcome it with all your might. You lean in closer to Rafe and kiss his arm and shoulder. The room you’re in isolates all noise from the outside, so you two can practically hear your lips on his skin.

You leave your glass on the counter and go behind Rafe, wrapping your arms around him to have your chest glued to his smooth back and kissing his spine. But, right before your hands can even begin to explore, the door slides open and disrupts your peace.

You squint at the light behind whoever comes in, and, to your surprise, it’s everybody. You don’t separate from Rafe, given that they were the ones who came in during your love session, and lean your head against him. Rafe looks at them, too, and speaks, as if he doesn't have you glued to him.

“I checked it,” He says to Topper, making his torso vibrate with his voice, “they didn’t talk about any collaborations in the email. Just something about…” and you zoned out.

Patty, having her priorities straight, walks over to the food on the opposite counter and starts making herself her lunch. You eye her as she works in silence, thinking about what you could put on your own sandwich, but Rafe starts moving, disrupting your peace of scanning the imaginary list of ingredients that you brought into the boat. 

You begin to let go of him, thinking he’s planning on leaving the room or whatever, but he simply turns around to lean his back on the counter, and, consequently, faces you. Kelce and Topper start another uninteresting conversation, and you look up at Rafe, who is looking and listening to them attentively. 

Your eyes eye him with much annoyance, and you pull away before your drunken mind decides to really test his ability to ignore you. Aka, twist his nipple.

Moving over to Patty, you look at everything in front of you and decide on your lunch.

“Still ignoring you?” Patty asks with a smile.

You look up at her and shrug. “Guess so”.

“Men…” She says as she shakes her head and resumes her stacking of her ingredients, and you can’t help but laugh.

You grab two pieces of bread and join her in the stacking. You two decide to go eat elsewhere, and you don’t even spare Rafe a look. Yet, if you had, you would’ve seen his eyes on you as you left.

(...)

Hours and many drinks later, everyone gave up swimming for the day. Topper grilled hamburgers for dinner on the above deck, and, with a stomach full of food and alcohol still pumping through everyone’s systems, some retired directly into their beds. The only ones remaining are you, Rafe, and Topper. 

You scroll through your phone’s gallery while they talk, still not being affected by the need for sleep, unlike Topper, who has yawned endlessly for the past 10 minutes. You’re entertained and happy while looking at your screen. 

Now that you and Rafe have no one to hide your relationship from, posting on social media has become a thing. You two aren’t posting anything crazy, like endless pictures of each other's faces or collages of you two kissing – of course not. But things like the same locations in your stories, the same parties, or, in this case, the same boat. Or even other photos, like ones with the entire group – tendency of Patty to force everybody in a group photo spontaneously – or just canon pictures of you or your friends.

It’s maybe dumb that something as small as that makes you happy, but showing off Rafe had been the privilege you had been deprived of ever since the beginning of your relationship. So, you bet your monthly photo-dumps or random groups of photos get to include him and his friends. Your boyfriend’s hot, damnit, god forbid you let the entire world see that.

You’re lying over the couch, mostly hidden by the table in front of you, while Rafe and Topper sit at the head and foot of the table, leaving you more than enough space to just lie down on your phone and roll in whatever direction you might like to.

After a good few moments of scrolling through your gallery, Topper announces his wish to go to bed. They might think that you’re asleep by now, since they both start cleaning up the table without you, so you decide to come out of hiding.

You stretch and sit up, letting Rafe’s shirt, now untied, fall to your lap, and see them talking with the door slid completely open as they throw everything in the trash. You get up, grab the remaining trash, and walk over to them. Topper looks up at you, giving you a sleepy smile to acknowledge your presence, and you give him one of yours, too.

“Good night, love birds.” He says as he turns around to go downstairs to the bedrooms.

“Good night,” the two of you say, almost in sync.

Rafe closes the trash once you throw in your stuff, and you go back outside to grab your phone, tying the shirt back up as you walk. Surprisingly, Rafe follows you and takes back his seat at the head of the table. You watch him as he grabs his phone and just continues to be in his own world.

You stand there, just a meter away from him, watching him, and the man just keeps on scrolling.

“Want to go to sleep?” You try to ask him.

No response.

You groan out of frustration and throw your phone back on the table. You’re not going to sleep until he talks to you and stops being his petty self. So, you try to be annoying.

You poke his head, flick his forehead, play with the buzz cut, pinch his neck… Literally nothing.

As you watch him, Rafe leans back on the couch on his phone, and you, with a lack of patience, snatch the phone from his hands. You stare at the screen and sigh. At least he’s not checking emails, but he was just scrolling through social media. You look over at him, and he is still not meeting your eyes.

You throw the phone in the direction of yours, and it falls perfectly in the middle of the table. You take a seat next to him and face him.

You tell him, “All of this because I gave Sarah my number?”

You expected to be ignored, but he, dead serious, turns his head to face you like you hit the nail right on the head. You sit still for a second, shamelessly enjoying his attention on you for starters, and then laughing in his face for how petty this entire afternoon has been. You move, with his eyes still on you, to sit on his lap, facing him, and Rafe doesn’t look away at that.

“Why?” You ask him, looking down at him.

He doesn’t answer, and you roll your eyes.

“How am I supposed to not want to hang out with your sister, when you don’t even tell me what’s so bad about her?” He gives you a look that it’s comical, but you continue, “I’ve known her for as long as I've known you. She seems as normal as any other person in your family.”

That gets him talking, “What is that supposed to mean?”

You laugh at the baffled look on his face, and lay your hands on his shoulders. “You’re still not answering me.”

“She’s annoying,” he tells you.

“That’s it?” You frown, lifting your hands off his shoulder to lay them on your thighs. “Everyone can be annoying, and I still hang out with them.”

Rafe gives you a look of ‘you better not be talking about me’, making you smile, and you look over at the closed glass door everyone had gone through to go to sleep.

“So…” You start again, looking over at Rafe to already find him looking at you, of course. “I can’t hang out with her?”

He shrugs. Like a complete toddler. “You do what you want, babe.”

You groan out of frustration for him and smack his chest, making him sit up and hold back a grin of his own. You two are now much closer to one another, though you still have an advantage in height for sitting over his legs. Your hands move upwards, and your fingers begin to play with his buzzcut.

“What’s so bad about Sarah?” You ask again, looking at him dead in the eyes.

“She is annoying.”

“To you, maybe. Because you’re her brother.” You shrug, “I’ve never found her to be annoying.”

“That’s because you don’t hang with her enough.”

“And you do?” You pause your hands, knowing damn well that Rafe does not spend time with his family unless he is forced/coerced to. He leans back on his hands while looking at you. “Why is she annoying?”

“Babe,” Rafe starts, letting out a dry laugh, “Hang out with her, if you want. You can be friends with whoever-”

“But you’re sulking,” you tell him.

“I’m not.”

“Rafe,” You say seriously, “You’ve been sulking all day.” He makes a face as if you’re the wrong one, “You have to be kidding me.”

He doesn’t answer, and you huff out a breath. You use his shoulders as something to hold as you stand up. His eyes, in return, only watch you as you move.

“I’m going to bed. I’m done talking to you.” You tell him, only meaning those words half-heartedly, and Rafe knows it.

“Why?”

“Because you’re being annoying,” You tell him. “You ignored me all day. I have a right to be mad at you.”

Rafe smiles at your words, and you begin to walk towards the glass doors. You hear him moving behind you, but you’re quicker. You slide the door open and get in, closing and locking it behind you. Rafe, on the other hand, stands there, on the other side of the glass, hands on his hips like he expected you to do this. His hand doesn’t even reach for the door to know that you locked it.

“Open the door,” his voice is muffled, making you smile.

“What?” You lean in closer to the glass, “Can’t hear you.”

Rafe doesn't say anything, just to add suspense.

“There are other doors,” Your eyes widen, “you know that, right?”

First, your brain thinks that surely the other doors would be locked, given that time has begun to reach AM, and all of you have to be safe out here... But, if they're not, can you even run that fast to close everything up before he gets in?

“And where is the fun in that?” You shrug.

“So what? You want me to stand here and-”

“And think about what you did, yes.”

Rafe looks at you as if expecting you to laugh and unlock the door, but you’re unmovable. You cross your arms and lean against the kitchen counter, watching him. He looks over his shoulder as he sighs, and then a smile appears on his face.

“You left your phone out here.” Damn it.

“That’s fine, I’ll get it after.”

Rafe makes a face that makes you lean away from the counter, “I don’t know. He might fall in the water during the night.” He takes a step back, towards the table, making you smile in panic.

“Rafe,” you try to sound serious, but fail miserably.

“What?” He pretends to not hear you, mimicking you, and keeps walking towards the table. You watch as he grabs his phone first, putting it into his pocket, and then yours. You don’t fold just yet, but keep watching his every move.

Rafe looks down at your phone, acting as if he’s messing with it, and then, suddenly, starts moving away from the table and the view of the glass. You call out his name, no answer. Gosh, will you actually have to fall for his bluff?

“You’re not going to throw my phone in the water.”

“It’s outdated anyway,” You hear him a little far away already. “I’ll get you a new one.”

You try to be strong and hold yourself together. You can’t fall for his tricks this easily, but blame it on the alcohol, which is minimal at this point, to make you more gullible. You have too many things in that phone to lose it in the waves because of locking your boyfriend out.

“Okay, fine!” You exclaim, unlocking the door.

You step out, expecting to see him just by the door, with a stupid smile on his face about how he tricked you. But you don’t see him anywhere. “Rafe?” You call out, still no answer. You leave the door open behind you and keep walking.

You check the front deck first, empty. You go down and keep calling out his name. Still nothing. You look around, trying to not spook yourself with something so dumb.

The waters surrounding the boat are dark, and so is everything all around it. The darkest you’ve ever seen the night be. The boat, of course, is well illuminated, but it still leaves you uneasy.

As you keep walking, now nearly by the back of the boat that leads to the water, you’re silent, not calling out for Rafe anymore. Maybe he went around and is now locking the door to keep you out? Should you go back? And then, when you least expect it, he just comes out of nowhere and grabs you.

The scream that comes out of you is inhumane, which makes you laugh as soon as you come to your senses - hopefully, not waking up anyone. Rafe is laughing at you, and you smack his head.

“You’re such an asshole!” You ask him, “Why weren’t you answering me?”

He mimicks you again, now putting on a squeaky voice, “Where’s the fun in that?” You smack his head again, making him laugh more.

“I was scared, you ass.” You say, admitting it outright, as you look up at him while being glued to his chest. “What if I’d fallen in the water?” You point to the water right next to you.

“You think I’d let that happen?”

“Yes!” You say a little too loudly, making him smile brightly at you. “Yes, I do. You’re an ass, and that would be an ass thing to do. So, yes!”

“I would never.” He tells you, making you give him a death stare.

Rafe kisses your lips anyway, but you don’t budge. He deserves to have you be the one to sulk now. After this entire day, and now this? He deserves worse.

Rafe seems to notice what you’re doing right as you start it, which makes him chuckle, but, of course, the way Rafe deals with you is much different than the way you are with him. He begins kissing your cheek, holding you close to him, and then he lands a kiss on your neck... right before throwing you over his shoulder.

You hold in any sound of surprise, and he starts walking upstairs again. You don’t move. You act dead, letting yourself swing on his shoulder as he moves.

When upstairs, he grabs the phones from his pocket and throws them on the table again, confusing you, as you expected to be brought to your bedroom. Rafe takes you off his shoulder and sits you down on the table, too. You stare up at him, with no reaction, and then his lips go directly on yours.

You kiss back, but you make sure to lay your hands on the table, refusing to touch him as you usually do. Rafe’s hands hold onto your waist, pulling you closer to him, and then move over to your hips. You ignore it at first, but it’s hard to when he starts untying the bows at the sides of your pink bikini.

Still, you give him no reaction.

Your lips don’t separate, but your bikini lies now open, making a warmth travel and burn at the bottom of your stomach. One of Rafe’s hands, previously lying over one of your thighs, moves between your legs, and you hold yourself together when you feel his fingers touch your pussy. He groans into your kiss when he drags his fingers in between your lips down towards the entrance, to already find you wet. You concentrate on your silence and on the kiss, but his fingers move up to your clit again, making you lose almost all hope in yourself.

Rafe breaks the kiss to look down at his wet hand, and so do you. His fingers work slow circles over your clit, and you let out a breath, making Rafe smile and look up at you. Your eyes meet, and his hand stops, making you want to protest, but you stay put. Rafe lays his hand on your stomach, laying you down over the table, and he goes down on his knees.

With one of your legs over his shoulder and one of his hands on the other, Rafe’s mouth starts working as soon as it can. You lift your hand over your mouth almost instantly, feeling the warmth of his hand against you, his tongue on your clit, and his breathing on your skin. Your eyes stay trained on the white roof over the table, and you focus on your breathing.

Rafe’s mouth licks, sucks, and kisses your pussy like he’s a man starved. He knows what you’re trying to do, but he also knows that you’re near failing. You’re trying to control your breathing, your sounds, your hands, and your legs to not let out any reaction, and it’s getting to be too much.

His mouth abandons your clit to move down to your entrance, and his nose touches your clit almost by accident. You bite your tongue, but Rafe catches the feeling of your thigh twitching once on his shoulder. He smiles into you and brings up one of his hands to start playing with your clit while he slides his tongue inside you.

His thumb moves faster in circles on your clit, and you can’t help but let out a small whimper. Your eyes sting a little, as tears are wanting to escape from the corner of your eyes, and you blink them away. Rafe slides his tongue out of you and moves upwards to your clit, moving his hand away for now. The warmth of his mouth is almost too much for you, but then his tongue starts moving, and you feel two of his fingers slide into you with almost no warning.

You cough out a moan, but your hand doesn’t move away from your mouth. Rafe wraps his lips around your clit and sucks on it while his fingers begin to move back and forth inside of you, knowing exactly where to hit every time.

As always, his knowledge of your body is beginning to be a little too much for you.

And then, what feels like seconds after, his mouth pulls away, and so do his fingers. When you see him stand up, you take your hand off your mouth and try to ignore the cold between your legs as you pull yourself up on your elbows.

“Turn around,” Rafe tells you, with his hands on your hips, but you don’t move, both for still trying to catch your breath and for your promise to not give up that easily.

Without any delay, Rafe flips you easily to lie on your stomach, and you huff out a breath of annoyance when you almost face plant into the table. Your bikini bottoms now fall to the ground, but you ignore them as you feel Rafe grab onto your hips from behind you. And, just in a few seconds, your annoyance evaporates when you feel Rafe’s dick slide into you. It’s slow. Torturing. And without any pause. But you almost forget your anger the moment it happens.

You two stay like that for a bit, but then Rafe begins to move. You try to concentrate, of course you do. You repeat the words, you got this, over and over in your brain, but it’s way harder than you think it is. The pleasure that had gone dormant from Rafe’s pause of his initial attack on you resumes exactly where it left off, and you almost lose it.

Your entire body feels warm, your pussy feels soaked, and your back naturally arches as soon as Rafe keeps moving. You hear him chuckle behind you, but you try to ignore it so as to not give him the satisfaction of a reaction. His dick slides easily back and forth inside of you at a pace that, though it isn’t the slowest he has punished you with, it’s nowhere near the pace you wish you could be at. It’s almost anxiety-inducing because Rafe knows what he’s doing. And he’s just telling you, without using any words, that though he almost has you breaking, he hasn’t even started yet.

And then, finally, he speeds up to a normal pace, and you lean your head onto the table. You focus on your breathing, knowing that it is already shaking, and at the beginning of a moan, but you know that Rafe can’t hear it. So, you let yourself indulge in that alone.

You close your eyes, concentrating further as pleasure continues to burn at the end of your tummy and travels down to your legs, and Rafe doesn’t seem to like how silent you are.

Out of nowhere, Rafe grabs you by your torso and pulls you up, making you arch into him and almost lean your head back on his shoulder.

“Why are you doing that?” He asks you in a mumble just below your ear, “Uhm?” He questions you.

You don’t respond, but your hands lie on the table to hold you better. His hands hold onto your waist, and you try to ignore the sounds coming from both of you. Rafe knows it right away.

“You think you’re winning, uhm?” He continues, “But you're so fucking wet that the whole boat could hear you if they were awake.”

The sound of the wet smack of skin and squelching of your pussy, makes you unconsciously squeeze Rafe’s dick, and he laughs into your ear.

“Look at you,” He kisses your neck between words, “Holding yourself together so well.” He nips at your skin, and then all you feel is his lips and tongue over your skin.

Rafe’s hands undo the tie of his shirt on you, and his hands disappear under the fabric. Your hands lift off the table as Rafe pulls you in closer and closer to his chest, and the angle worsens your entire situation. His hands find your chest and pull your tits out of the tight bikini, and, as soon as you feel his mouth on your skin again while his fingers pinch at one of your nipples, you let out a loud and shaky sigh that Rafe can now definitely hear.

“You got it, you got it.” He pokes fun at you. He kisses your cheek and the corner of your lips, “But I got to say… I already miss your whining.”

You intake air harshly through your nose as Rafe thrusts into you with a little more force, and you open your eyes. He kisses your jaw and pulls you in closer to his chest, making his warmth familiarly engulf you.

Rafe looks down at you, his head just beside yours, and you force yourself to not meet his eye. “You know what, baby?” He asks, “I’m being way too nice with you… And I really shouldn’t.”

You stay silent, biting your tongue to try and distract yourself with the slight pain of it. Rafe’s hands move away from under the shirt, and he pauses his thrusts. You breathe in and out slowly, and he grabs one of your legs, lifting it to the table and opening space for his hand. His thrusts resume with that, and his fingers return to your clit.

Rafe kisses up your neck and lets go of your waist to force your head to face him. You strengthen your back to hold yourself up as his hips continue to meet yours - his movements at the same pace as before - and Rafe looks you right in the eye as if nothing is affecting him. His poker face is surely better than yours, but you try to not lose hope in yourself.

“Am I being mean to you?” He asks you, the sound of his thrusts invading your ears and making you hold in your breath. “Uhm? Am I?” He kisses your lips with a peck, and you look down at his mouth when he pulls away, “You can tell me, baby, and I promise that I’ll take better care of you.”

He kisses you again, and a little sound escapes your mouth when Rafe’s tongue meets yours. Your hands itch to touch him. To grab his head to force him closer to you. Or his arm to hold yourself up. The kiss is wet and messy, but Rafe intends for it to be so. You squeeze his dick harder and harder, and smaller sounds escape you as you get more drunk off of him.

Rafe then decides to put some more force into his thrusts, and, with your mouths open into a kiss, an actual moan breaks out of you. Rafe smiles and pulls away from your lips, victorious and proud. You try to go back down to the table, trying to get yourself back together by distancing yourself from him and his warmth, smell, and lips, but Rafe doesn’t let you. He roughly pulls you back to his chest by wrapping his arm around your waist as he thrusts, and a shaky breath comes out of your mouth.

“Are you going to cry?” He asks you, his tone so heavy with humor, that you find it evil when directed at you. You close your eyes and force down the urge to cry out your pleasure, and Rafe just keeps making it worse. His fingers pause on the small circles on your clit and pinch it softly as he leans his head onto the crook of your neck. He bites your skin and moves away to look down at your face. Rafe looks as he speeds up his pace and thrusts fully into you. He reads your face like a book. And though you’re silent, you couldn’t make it more obvious to him. “You can cry. I got you. I always do.”

You’re getting distracted. Your pleasure is getting higher and higher, and Rafe does not shut up. He keeps talking in your ear, knowing that if he does, your pleasure just gets worse as your pussy squeezes him like a vice. He calls you his crybaby, his baby, his pretty girl. All of it to get in your head. And he succeeds.

Your hand lifts off the table and moves towards his on your waist. You grab it to try and get some strength back into you, but Rafe sees it as a slip-up and starts moving his fingers quicker against your poor clit to only make it worse. Your eyes open, and Rafe bites at your neck. Your other hand lifts up to his nape, scratching his skin, and he grunts at your touch.

“You want to come?” Rafe asks you against the skin of your cheek, and you find yourself nodding. His chuckle hits your face, and he forcibly kisses you. “You do, yeah?” You nod again when he pulls away, “Ask me, then.”

You sob out loud as the pleasure intensifies and a tear escapes. Rafe smiles at you, prouder than he’s ever been of himself, but you don’t ask him for anything. He kisses you again, with bruising force, and that just makes you whimper against his lips. His fingers move faster and faster, and your hands hold onto him like a lifeline. Your sounds start getting louder and louder, still not yet being their usual volume, but Rafe takes them in like medals. Every single one of them.

“I’ll stop.” He warns you, making you look at him in surprise. “If you don’t ask for it, I’ll stop, and we’ll go to sleep.”

And the look you give him… Rafe could’ve melted right there and then. You plead with your teary eyes, small sobs of pleasure leaving your mouth, as you almost pout at him. Rafe was ready to give you the orgasm and more. Anything in the world could be yours if you kept it up. But you decide to shake your head.

“No?” He asks you, “No, you don’t want to come?” He tests you, “Or no, you don’t want me to stop?”

He pinches your clit when you don’t answer, and you, finally, let out a real moan. He can tell that you’re getting closer. Your pussy is impossibly wet, your breathing is irregular, you're holding onto him as if he’ll let you fall to the ground at any second, and then you tense up. Rafe, though it pains him to, stops moving right away.

“I guess we’ll go to sleep, then.”

“No, no, no…” You whisper at him, pulling at him with your hands as if scared that he’ll disappear. Rafe leans in as you pull him by his nape, and you peck his lips. Rafe kisses you for more time, and you start to feel everything. His naked chest against you, his tight hold on your waist, his lips on yours, his dick entirely inside you, and his other hand paused at your clit. He pulls away, and you sigh.

“Say it, then.” Rafe encourages.

“P… Please make me come.” You whisper against his lips, so low that Rafe’s ear almost doesn’t register, but he takes it as enough.

“Of course, baby.” He kisses you at the end of the sentence, “Anything for my pretty girl, yeah?”

You nod at him, and he starts slowly at first. As soon as the speed and force come back, you’re too aware of every single thing and come incredibly fast. Rafe holds you as he keeps going, thrusting into you deeply as he forces you to ride out your orgasm as he finds his, and, the second you start making your overstimulated whines, Rafe is done for. He thrusts a final time and comes inside you, and he grunts against the skin of your shoulder.

His breathing takes some time to calm down, and you relax your hold on him. Rafe takes his hand away from your pussy and lays it over the table to stand up straight. Your hand falls from his head as he does so, and you grab his wrist from that same arm. You lean your head back onto his shoulder, and the wind of the sea hits your wet face. Gosh, what a mess.

You two don’t talk for a bit, but Rafe doesn’t take long to feel himself get back to normal. He is careful when he pulls out of you and pulls his shorts back up. He’s slow to let you go, making sure that you can stand on your own already, and he grabs the bottoms of your bikini from the floor. He hands it to you, and when he goes to pick you up, you stop him.

“Rafe, the table.” You tell him, looking at it.

“What?”

You laugh and point at the table you just had sex on, “We got to clean the table. We have every meal on that thing”. Rafe sighs as he looks at it.

You put your bikini back on while Rafe trusts you to stand by yourself, and he cleans the table very well, to your request (also known as orders). Once he’s done, he goes to wash his hands, and you move towards the inside of the boat. You close the door and lock it behind you, and look over to find Rafe drying his hands on the kitchen cloth.

“Don't forget the other doors,” you tell him.

“What other doors?” He asks, making you frown.

“You said they were unloc-” And he smiles at you.

Asshole.

Rafe throws the now clean, once again, cloth onto the counter, and you kiss his arm. “Let’s go,” you whisper at him, and he nods.

Both of you are about to get the best night of sleep in your lives.

[starkeynation]

Is it casual now?

Content : angst, a bit similar to the scene where Sofia overheard Rafe saying she’s not his girlfriend, inspired by the song Casual by Chappell Roan (may or may not be accurate)

a/n : sorry in advanced i know Chappell is for the girlies also idk if im proud of this but your likes and reblogs will always be appreciated🤍

Part 2

── ⋆⋅˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋅⋆ ──

It has been exactly 4 months since you met Rafe Cameron, the kook king you never knew you would fall so deeply for. The first time you met him, you were nothing but a blur in his world. A passing figure and a random pogue that was at his party. But Rafe, you saw something in him the moment you met his sparkling blue eyes. You couldn’t exactly tell what it was. Maybe it’s the fact that he looks so handsome even under bad lights, or the way you could listen to him forever every time he speaks. At that moment, you were ready to risk it all.

You made your move that night. The way you charmed him may have made him realize you both were something more than strangers passing through each other’s lives and ever since then, you were both inseparable. Although he said “No attachment,” the first time you both hooked up, you still went along with it, hoping it could be real one day.

Sometimes when you’re hanging out with your friends outside, you would hear some rumors saying you’re just a girl that Rafe bangs on his couch. The pogues call you a loser for still hanging around him but you ignore them and the rumors because most of the time he treats you as if you were someone he couldn’t lose. Just two weeks after knowing each other, he invites you to dinner with his whole family. The way he fucks you in the bathroom while his parents are still at the table, the way he brings you to the country club and shows you off, the way he’s eating you out in the passenger seat, and mostly the way he talks to you, so gently and sweet that got you thinking maybe this isn’t just some dumb love.

You’re at the pub where you agreed to meet Rafe. The sky on the way there was already turning a heavy blue slate, signaling that rain was on the way. You enter the pub and recognize Rafe’s back immediately standing on the other end accompanied by Topper and his foul girlfriend Ruthie. As you are about to approach them, you hear his voice, “She’s not my girlfriend okay, it’s just…casual. No strings attached.”

You freeze. The words land like ice in your chest, sharp and cold. If that isn’t enough you then hear Ruthie say, “You sure about that Rafe? How do your parents feel that you’re living with a pogue,” she smirks, her eyes gleaming with sarcasm.

“I’m not fucking living with a pogue okay,” he says annoyingly.

You have to steady yourself. You could feel your stomach churn as you’re processing what you’re hearing. You can’t believe it. You both never had a “talk” about being exclusive, but you thought you were starting to matter to him and close to making it official.

You hide behind a column in the middle of the pub, trying to decide what to do. Part of you wants to walk away, leave without saying a word, and let him figure out what he’d lost. But you couldn’t just let it go. So you make your way to the table, keeping a neutral face, and try to hold back your tears.

“Hey, there you are,” Rafe smiles, as you approach him.

“Hey,” you say, your voice steady, though it takes everything you have to keep it from shaking. “We need to talk.” Before he could say anything, you grab his hand taking him outside the pub. As you stand outside, it’s already drizzling.

“Whoa, what’s wrong? Can't we talk inside? It’s raining,” he asks, his voice full of confusion.

You let go of his hand and go silent for a moment. He looks at your face that is now about to cry, “Baby what’s wrong?” he says.

“Don’t call me that if you don’t mean it Rafe,” you mutter.

He blinks. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard you,” your voice loud now. “Telling them we’re not dating? No strings attached? Seriously Rafe? After these past few months? Is it casual now?”

Rafe’s face shifts, the unease creeping into his features. He clears his throat, trying to smooth over the tension. “Look, I thought we’re on the same page here-“

“Same page? What same page are we talking about?” You cut him off. “I thought you were starting to look at me differently now Rafe.” You fluster. “Oh and not to mention calling me a pogue? I thought we’re WAY past that..”

He sighs, scratching the back of his head. “Ok about that I'm sorry kay’. I didn’t mean to call you a pogue just, you know…Topper and Ruthie, they caught me off guard. And you never really talked about anything more serious, so I figured we’re just not together.”

You could feel the heat rising in your chest. “I never talked about it? Oh so now I’m the one to blame? Are you serious?” Your eyes narrow.

He pauses, trying to find the right thing to say. “I just…I’m happy with the way we are right now. I’m not-“

“Not what? Not ready to be in a relationship? That’s bullshit.” You cut him off again, not wanting to hear any excuses. “How can you stand there and say you’re okay with this? After all the plans we made, the endless nights we spent?” you continue, meeting his gaze that looks unbothered. “You know what…I can’t…yes, I tried to be the chill girl who holds her tongue and gives you space but not anymore. No, I’m done,” you say, trying to walk away.

The rain is getting heavier now, and both of you are soaking wet. “Wait,” he calls out your name. “Just wait okay…I’m sorry I hurt you, yes I would be lying if I said this doesn’t mean something but just give me time okay, I just…I can't do relationships right now,” he says, grabbing your wrist trying to stop you.

“No Rafe,” you shake your head, a tear runs down to your cheek. “I’m done waiting. It’s hard Rafe…It’s hard being casual when my favourite bra lives in your dresser and it’s definitely not casual when I’m always on the phone talking to Wheezie like I’m her sister,” you swallow, biting your inner cheek trying to keep your emotion in check.

He gives a small dismissive wave, like I’m overthinking things. “Well I did warn you no attachment, y/n,” he says, with such cold detachment, as if his words are nothing more than a simple fact, devoid of any emotion.

You look at him with disappointment crawling up to your throat. He isn’t even trying to make it work, not even pretending to care about how you feel. You hate the fact what he said is true, he did warn you not to get attached and you hate yourself even more for dragging this on for so long. You stare at him for a moment longer, “Fuck you, Rafe,” then you turn and walk away to your car. There is no use in arguing with someone who has no intention of changing their mind. If this is how Rafe sees you, then he is not the guy you think he is.

Maybe he is okay with keeping things casual but you deserve more than that. Rafe Cameron can go to hell.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for being proud of my job as a regional Nightmare?

My sister told me she’s making her own post and that if I was so sure I wasn’t TA then I should make my own so here I am.

I’m a regional Nightmare. I’m very proud of how hard I worked to get here. Not many terrors in their 20s get this high up and it’s because I do the work. I get up at 8pm and I’m out in the woods grinding out those quotas until dawn. Sometimes I sleep out there in my uniform just so I can be the first on scene for the multi-part jobs. I’m efficient, I’m punctual, and I’m committed. My goal is to be a Cyptid by the time I’m 30 and, to do that, I have to stay on at all times.

As a result, I work a lot. I’m often not home for days at a time. I have a very strict training regimen and my time for friends and family is virtually nonexistent. That’s why when I do get the time to hang out, I prefer to spend my time intentionally. What I mean by that is that I don’t want to sit on a couch when I could be lifting weights. I don’t want to chill in the pool when I could be volunteering for new scares. I especially don’t want to gossip over tea when I could be getting overtime.

Last Saturday, my sister invited a bunch of family over to her house. My job in the Virginia woods fell through, so I decided to go. Silly (her childhood nickname) said she had something important to tell the family so I thought it wouldn’t be a waste of my time.

Key word: thought.

When I got to Silly’s house, I was surprised to see so many cars out front. Our parents were there and our older brother. The house was packed. There were cousins, aunts, uncles and a ton of people I didn’t know.

At first the event was fine. Silly’s always been a good cook (see, I know you’re reading this, Silly, and see? I do compliment you when do something actually good) and everyone was really enjoying the flank steak (though I did have to save it before she cooked it medium well). But as the day wore on, I could tell people were getting bored. Silly and Mom were focused on cleaning up and said that dessert would have to wait until her fiance got home. Which was kind of rude to be late and I felt really bad for Silly. It seems like my soon to be brother-in-law (BIL for short) is never around when she needs him.

In an effort to help, I engaged some of the people I didn’t know in conversation because the party was getting a little dead and I didn’t want one of my sister’s parties to fail. I was trying hard not to think about the time I was wasting waiting for my future BIL so it also served as a distraction.

It turns out one of the guys was a fellow terror. He worked a corporate job and we talked for a while about the pros of being freelance like me. He asked me a lot of questions and I was happy to mentor another terror.  Corporate can suck the art out of what we do. My clients only care if the quota for their mission is met and don’t enforce such strict timelines. They come to me for quality. Poor guy barely had time to mend his uniform between scares (his cloak was tattered and his hook hand was rusty) so I recommended my tailor and blacksmith.

The guy and I exchanged information. I gave him my business card and he looked for one of his. While he looked, I felt nature calling so I headed upstairs to use my sister’s bathroom (like hell I was going to use the same one as my Uncle Joe). From up there, I saw my future BIL pull into the driveway.

 Being a regional Nightmare is a tough job. Like I said, I have to train a lot to keep my certification. So I thought it’d be a good idea to get a scare on my BIL both to punish him for being late and to make up for all the time I’d already wasted at the party.

So I waited for him to come upstairs to change and, when he did, I pulled out the works. I darkened the room and fell back into the shadows. Then, while he groped for the light switch, I stretched out my leg (I have an extra joint in them) and tried to nudge him. I honestly didn’t expect for him to trip and I DEFINITELY didn’t expect for him to fall backwards. I’ve been practicing this skill on my family since I was sixteen and got the leg extension mod and none of them ever fell like that.

My future BIL fell down the stairs. I panicked and raced over to look over the banister. He was fine! He wasn’t bleeding or anything and, when I saw that, I started to laugh.

Everyone freaked out though. They all said I was being immature and bullying my BIL. I told them it wasn’t bullying, it was my actual job. I said that I was just joking and didn’t know my BIL, a former “Cryptid”, would take it so hard.

My mom jumped in and backed me up, but my sister has always been the Queen of the castle. Silly and Dad kicked me out ( I mean, I let them, I’ve got enhanced strength and I didn’t want to hurt them). Dad called me a disgrace and to not come back home.

I asked him if he was really kicking me out just because I wanted to show off my skills a little? And he said yes. And Silly said I had it coming to me for a long time.

I don’t even know what went wrong.

 So AITA for taking pride in my work?

---.

SillyCreeper says: Oh my god, you actually made this post? You’re an actual idiot. For anyone who believes this story, read mine before you vote. My brother left out a few details like how the party was my GENDER REVEAL PARTY and that he’s not a regional Nightmare, he’s a  Slasher for hire.

OP replies: I am TRAINED to operate as a regional Nightmare. That makes me an independent regional Nightmare.

SillyCreeper replies: Regional Nightmares don’t steal failed missions from corporate Slashers

OP replies: Get your own post, Silly

SillyCreeper: Oh, I already did. Have fun being torn apart on yours, dumbass.

-----

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to read Silly's AITA post a week early, please consider becoming a patron (X)!

Aita for going no contact with my brother after he pulled a Scare on my husband?

I'm working on this anthology during November and I'm having a blast with this story in particular! The family drama keeps going on and on

[jo-speaks]

Jealous Quinn Jealous Quinn I beg

CAN HE TOUCH YOU LIKE THIS?

overview: your past hookup gets quinn riled up.

warnings: 18+ content below. mdni. mentions of alcohol consumption, poor past hookups (sorry jack), unprotected sex, etc.

note: this request is from january… anyway! also, not proofread </3

Parties at the lakehouse weren’t uncommon. If anything, they were expected. Jack was always the usual planner, his lack of college frat parties making him compensate with the loudest, most entertaining functions. 

As a usual guest at the house, your invitation was always the first to go, considering you practically lived with the Hughes boys the second their seasons ended, your parents having been friends for a lifetime and some. You were closest with Jack due to age, but Quinn had always felt like something more than to label him ‘just a friend’.

Currently, you were sitting on the couch, legs draped over Jack’s as you both drank from your red solo cups and engaged in the conversations you could hear over the music.

Quinn sat on the other side of you, your head resting on his thigh as you put your cup on the ground. His free hand mindlessly dropped to yours, bringing it up to your shoulder so he didn’t have to reach down. It wasn’t romantic, it was strictly platonic. While he wasn’t off limits, you knew him well enough to know that this is how he felt the most grounded in an overwhelming scene.

“All I’m saying is that I wouldn’t be too happy if the guy I was talking to ghosted me out of nowhere.”

Your words were directed towards Trevor, a usual suspect when it came to leaving his trail when it came to summer hookups. The conversation had started when he began talking about some girls he had hooked up with in LA before flying to Michigan, getting looks from you and Quinn at the way he overshared about his experiences. 

Trevor scoffed, taking a sip of his drink, “Yeah, well, you’re a girl. Of course, you think that way.” 

Jack rolled his eyes, “Or maybe she just has decency? C’mon, Trev. You gotta admit, you sound pretty messy right now.” 

“Obviously you would say that,” Trevor retaliated, “You wouldn’t get it. You and Y/N hooked up and are still friends.”

You nearly choked on your spit, the shock on everyone’s face making yours feel suddenly warm. Jack squeezed your shin, deciding whether he should laugh it off and move on or explain how it didn’t mean anything to either of you. Unfortunately, Trevor’s words had struck a different brother in a distasteful way. 

Quinn’s hand tightened its grip on yours, squeezing your fingers as if you were going to get up and run away. He didn’t picture it, he just pictured you. 

How did you react? Did you like it? Would you do it again? 

Do you like Jack?

He could feel the jealousy coursing through his veins; the mere idea of his younger brother seeing you in your most vulnerable state plagued his mind. He knew Jack. He knew that most of his hookups were centered on his pleasure, not the girls. Did he even care to make you cum?

Your bubbly voice pulled him out of his spiral, “One time thing when we were eighteen, Trev. Get over it.” The sound of your laughter pulled everyone out of the awkwardness, treating the conversation as if it had never stunned you into silence. “Plus, it didn’t mean anything anyway.” 

“Oh, it’s like a dagger in my heart.” Jack teased, playing into it. 

Quinn, on the other hand, was having none of it. He sat you up, letting go of your hand. “I think I’m gonna call it for tonight.” His tone was short and snappy, as if someone had just insulted him. 

It was impossible to notice the way he weaved himself past the group sitting at the bottom of the stairs, making his way up to his bedroom before shutting the door. While Trevor and Jack returned to their conversation, you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on with the man upstairs.

“I’ll be right back.” You excused yourself, shifting your legs off of Jack’s lap and trailing the same path Quinn had taken to his room. 

The party downstairs was disregarded when you knocked twice on the door, turning the knob before he ever gave you the go ahead. Quinn was never one to lock his door, but he couldn’t say he was upset at you when you switched the lock as you stepped in and closed the door behind you. His eyes locked with yours for a moment before going back to stare at his TV. 

You let out a sigh. “You okay? You kinda upped and bolted in here.” He didn’t get the chance to answer before you sat down on his bed, crawling over to where he lay, “Was it the hookup talk? I swear I was gonna tell you, but-”

He cut you off with a scoff, shaking his head before looking at you, “It’s not that.” 

Your head tilted at his statement, “Then what’s wrong?”

Quinn sighed, his arm coming across to drape over your shoulders as he pulled you closer into his body, “I hate thinking about the fact that he didn’t take care of you properly.” You weren’t sure what you had expected him to say, but it hadn’t been that. He chuckled at your shocked expression, your eyes shifting between his as you processed his words. 

“What?”

“Y/N, be real. Did he even make you cum? Or did he just make you so tired of him that you faked it?”

His vulgarity stunned you even further into silence. On some level, though, his words had truth. Jack hadn’t made you finish when you hooked up, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt because “He was eighteen, Quinny. He didn’t know what he was doing.”

Still, your defense didn’t make the anger brewing inside him simmer down one bit. Before you knew it, his hands were gripping your waist, pulling you up onto his lap so you straddled him. “Let me show you what he should’ve done, yeah?” 

Your brain short-circuited. Were you hearing him correctly, or were you just turned on by the way he was determined to prove he was better than Jack? Before you could process your own question, you were leaning forward, capturing his warm lips in a heavy kiss. 

Quinn flipped you both over, finding his comfort in being on top of you rather than below. His lips moved in sync with yours, his tongue already pleading for entry, which you gladly granted. You could feel his knee pushing your legs apart, the skirt you had chosen to wear for the now long forgotten party giving him easy access to press his knee against your warmth. 

You gasped softly at the pressure, your hips instinctively rocking towards it as you felt his lips travel down to your neck, finding a spot and suckling on it.

“Did he do this for you?” He asked in a quiet voice, “Did he make sure you were this wet before even trying to fuck you?” 

A whine slipped past your lips in response, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders as you sped up your movements. Quinn brought one hand down, fingers bruising your hip as he stopped you from moving. “Words, baby. Tell me.”

“N-no.” 

Quinn hummed, “No?” 

“No, he didn’t.” You groaned, trying to move your hips again, but to no avail, “Please let me move, Q. Please.”

Satisfied with your words, he loosened his grip, letting you grind against his sweatpants-covered leg again. He was hypnotized by the small furrow in your eyebrows as you started to feel your orgasm build, the way your breaths started to come out in soft pants rather than big huffs. It was the small details that told him exactly what you wanted, what you needed. 

He pressed his leg up closer to you, intensifying the pressure that sent your head reeling. Your eyes struggled to find his, the urge to close them becoming overwhelming. But you did yourself a favour, keeping eye contact as you got closer and closer.

“Quinn,” You moaned, biting down on your lip to maintain yourself quiet enough so that the guests wouldn’t catch wind of what was happening upstairs. “Gonna cum.” 

The look on his face was unforgettable. He was proud of himself. Proud he had you so desperate underneath him that you were getting off by using his body. Proud he got you there, unlike your past experiences with Jack. It was pure pride and satisfaction, and fuck did it feel good. 

“Atta girl, sweetheart.” He praised, whispering in your ear. “Let me feel you cum all over me before I’ve even fucked you.”

His words sent you over the edge, his ego rising as he could feel the way your fingers tightened on the skin of his shoulders, the way your body shook gently as you dampened your panties and his pant leg. He was learning all your tells, something he knew no one had bothered with before. 

He kissed your cheeks, meeting your lips as his hushed words guided you through your orgasm. Your body was hot against his as he stripped off your skirt and damp panties, following suit and revealing his body to you. As you calmed down, your bleary vision cleared up just in time to stop him from pulling off his pants, your hand covering his that sat on his waistband. 

Quinn stopped moving, smirking at you as he took your wrist, placing it where his was previously, and lifted both hands up. He watched as your mouth all but watered as you pulled down the fabric, exposing his navy blue boxers and the bulge that threatened to tear through the cotton. He stepped out of them as you stared in awe, amazed at the dark, wet patch that was barely noticeable due to the colour. 

You reached for it, your hand cupping around his cock as he let out a soft groan, anchoring himself back onto the bed as he took your hand and pinned it over your head. His lips were back on yours instantly, his lips moving with more frevour than they had before, as if it was his last chance at kissing you. 

His hand reached down for his cock, stroking his length briefly as he slapped his tip against your swollen clit, whines escaping your lips at the inconsistent pressure. His actions showed no signs of a rush, but your body was so desperate to have him inside of you that you could barely control your words as they slipped out.

“Please just fuck me,” You begged, “Know you can do it better than him, Q.”

Those words cracked him because before you knew it, he slipped in with one harsh thrust, filling you up so quickly that you had no choice but to scream. Quinn covered your mouth with his hand, wanting to reserve your noises for no one else but him. 

You watched with wide eyes as his jaw fell agape as he started to move, his thrusts speeding up as your arousal coated his cock, making it easier to move. His hand came off your mouth, a rookie mistake because the second he did, you sang his praises.

“So, so big, Quinn.” You babbled, your cock-drunk mind focused on nothing but the way he hit all the right spots so effortlessly, like he’d mapped out your body to the tee. “Oh my- fuck! Best I’ve ever had, please don’t stop.”

His cock twitched at your words, his hand lifting your shirt as he leaned down to scatter kisses across your chest. “You feel so fucking good, pretty girl.” He targeted your nipple, pinching one while he swirled his tongue around the other, switching constantly as he felt you clench around him. “Pussy was fucking made for me.”

He could feel the way your body tensed up again, a cocky smirk tugging at his lips as you slammed your hands down on his sheets, pulling the cover tighter as he hit the spot that had your head falling back and your eyes seeing stars.

“You look so pretty,” He teased, speeding up his thrusts so you couldn't chirp back. “Bet he didn’t see you like this, huh? All fucked out underneath him?” Quinn’s words were poisoned with spite, fuming at the thought of someone missing out on everything you had to offer. “More for me, though, isn’t that right, baby?”

Your head nodded rapidly, words not coming as an option as you could feel your abdomen tighten the more he abused that spot inside of you with each thrust. You were pulled a little closer back to reality when you felt his finger flick your clit, the sudden action leaving your mouth to widen even further. 

“What did I say, hm?” He scolded, the pad of his finger now swirling rapid circles around your swollen bud, as if he was trying to keep you speechless. “Words, or you don’t cum.”

You whined, “All for you. I was made just for you, Q.”

He hummed in satisfaction, your words shooting straight to his cock as he kept his pace, feeling your body twitch underneath him as the knot in your stomach threatened to let go. “No,” Quinn breathed. “You cum with me or not at all, you got it?”

“Yes, sir.” The idea of keeping yourself teetering at the line of your orgasm felt like torture, but your mind had already adapted to Quinn’s rules, rewired to listen to him no matter how badly you needed to let go.

He groaned, the sound coming straight from his chest, as his fingers gripped your thighs, pushing them further back to push deeper into you. It was overwhelming, your walls spasming around him as you fought back your orgasm, wanting nothing more than to tip over that peak as he filled you up.

A few more harsh thrusts and he was right there with you, his forehead touching yours as he mumbled praise to you before saying, “Cum on my cock, pretty girl.”

And that was the only cue you needed. Your movements were involuntary, your back arching off the mattress and pressing your skin flush to his chest, your shooting up to tug his hair. He was no different, the way his muscles tensed and a sinful moan slipped past his swollen lips, his cum spurting into you as he tainted your walls white, filling you up to the point where it leaked out of you in drops.

You could feel his breath clashing with yours, the mixture of warmth bringing you comfort as you felt his cock soften inside of you, one of your hands coming down to cup his face. Your thumb rubbed the skin soothingly as he dropped his weight onto you, catching his breath and embracing your warmth.

“So,” You began, shifting that hand to toy with his now damp curls, “Was that you just trying to prove to me that you fuck better than your brother?” Quinn groaned into your skin, the vibrations tickling you slightly. He lifted his head, catching your gaze as you waited for his answer. 

“One, I knew I did. Two, no. I’ve been hoping you’d look my way since we were kids. But you were closer to Jack, so I don’t know. Didn’t wanna play the guessing game with you until I knew for sure.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “You could’ve said something sooner. It’s never felt like just a friendship with you.”

The relief that washed over him was visible, his body relaxed as he let out a sigh. Quinn had never thought he’d get to even have this conversation with you, so he cherished your response as if he’d forget it the next day. 

“Well, I’m saying something now.” He smiled cheesily at you as he leaned up for a quick kiss, which you gladly gave in to. “Let me take you out tomorrow?”

[trivia-yandere]

now that milf is kinda?? becoming a ‘series’ COULD WE AT LEAST GET ANOTHER PART FOR ‘OFF LIMITS’ AND ‘WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO DO?’ PLSSSSS

like ceo jk, hybrid jk, milf jk, dark web jk, actor jk, step-bro jk is just going to have to continue waiting i suppose???

fuck it, another part to brother's best friend jk!!

off limits (3)

the act of sneaking around behind your brothers back is highly exciting for you and jungkook.

word count: 4.632

warning: smut, secret dating, jealous mc/jungkook, alcohol intake, kisses/neck kisses, oral sex (m), oral fixation, unprotected sex, praise, degradation lmao, mc slobbering like a slut, dirty talk, creampie, semi-public sex,

part one | two

”That’s a lot of toppings.” you laugh, witnessing the way Jungkook douse his frozen yogurt with fudge - not including the amount of fruit, sprinkles, granola and even candy already on it. 

“The more the better, baby.” Jungkook winks, rounding around you to get even more topics.

You roll your eyes, doing the same.

The last two months, you and Jungkook had been secretly dating. It took over 3 weeks for Jay to not watch you like a hawk after the incident at Jungkook’s house.

Now, even though you and Jungkook remain careful, you’re able to freely come and go without his questioning it much.

You have to admit that sneaking around with Jungkook is fun. When Jay’s friends would be around, you and Jungkook would share glances, his lips would form a little smirk and he’d send you a wink. When no one is looking, he’d slip away to the bathroom where you’d be waiting just to kiss you  - all because it was a rush.

Jungkook at times had his doubts. He loved Jay like his own brother and going behind his back wasn’t something he wanted to do, but he also loved you. You were someone he couldn’t keep my mind off of, especially after having you for the first time. Each time Jungkook thought about confessing to his friend, you would shut him down.

You didn’t want Jay and Jungkook to be against one another because of you. Deep down, you also had the fear that Jungkook would end things with you out of respect for your brother, an act of finally coming to his senses.

“I think we should binge watch Temptation Island later.” you say prior to bringing a spoonful of frozen yogurt into your mouth. You hum at the sweet taste. “Lina’s been trying to get me to watch it for weeks now.”

Jungkook’s already halfway done with his frozen yogurt when you speak, taking large spoonfuls, his eyebrows knit together and a look of pure disgust on his face.

That meant Jungkook liked the way it tasted, as weird as it was.

“Later tonight?” Jungkook asks, licking his lips. “Jimin’s having a party.”

“A party?” you tilt your head. “I wasn’t invited.”

Which was weird because you were always invited to Jimin’s parties. There wasn’t any mention of it before now.

Jungkook nods. “You know why.” he says, a glint in his eyes. “Jimin knows about us.”

Your eyes widen slightly, your mouth falling open. 

“You told him?” you murmur. You’re unsure why - it was only you and Jungkook in the frozen yogurt shop. The teenager behind the counter could care less about your and Jungkook’s secret relationship. “What if he accidentally slips up and tells Jay?”

“I had to.” Jungkook takes another scoop of his frozen yogurt. “He caught on to us.”

You scoff. “How? We’re very discreet!”

Only discrete when Jay was around. However, this was also Jimin. Jimin had a keen eye for these things. He knew of your crush on Jungkook since high school and pondered if, while now in college, if it ever subsided. He kept an eye on you, not reporting back to Jay this time since you were an adult.

Jimin noticed just how close you and Jungkook had become. The wandering eyes whenever you two thought no one was looking. The subtle touches here and there, the smiles and laughter. 

It was painfully obvious - only to him, however.

“Jimin’s not going to tell.” Jungkook assures. 

That didn’t mean Jungkook hadn’t been confronted. Jimin, while Jay and Taehyung were arguing over a game of checkers, both tipsy, had leaned against Jay's kitchen island. He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked at him - “You’re fucking Y/N.” he stated in a low, hushed tone. 

Jungkook denies it at first, but then he squeezes his hands together. An immediate sign that Jimin was right.

“Jay’s going to kick your ass when he finds out.” Jimin sing-songs. He grabs a bag of chips and turns to walk away. “Secrets safe with me.”

“That doesn’t explain why I’m not invited.” you pout a bit. You wanted to hang out with Jungkook. You didn’t have class tomorrow, either. There was an abundance of things you wanted to do - watch Temptation Island and grow irritated, make clay sculptures like you’ve seen on Tiktok. Sit on his face.

“It’s not that you’re not invited.” Jungkook has reached the bottom of his frozen yogurt by now. “Jimin knows you just can’t keep your hands off of me-”

“Now you’re just full of shit.” you snicker. “It’s you who can’t keep your hands off of me.”

“-and how else are we going to keep our secret when you’re going to be there provoking me?”

You rolled your eyes.

You had every intention of going - and you did.

After you and Jungkook ate frozen yogurt, he had dropped you off at home; Jay being at work. That didn’t mean that you weren’t going to jump into his lap and initiate a makeout session that Jungkook willingly participated in. His arms wrapped around you to hold you close against him while your hands cusp his cheeks.

“You can always come in for a bit.” you hummed against his lips, pecking it a few times. “Jay isn’t off until another hour.”

“That’s risky.” Jungkook squeezes your hips. “Jay will see my car out here and know that I’m in there fucking you good.” he jokes.

You roll your eyes. “Not if you park it down the street.” you hum, rubbing your nose against his. “How would he know? It’ll be dark out by the time he’s off.”

Jungkook pecks your lips. It was insane that he was considering it, right? He never enjoyed saying no to you.

“Especially since you’re planning on leaving me to go to Jimin’s party.” you say against his lips.

“You’re guilt tripping me now?” Jungkook snickers. “I’ll be inside in about five minutes.”

Your smile widens. “Can’t wait.”

Neither could Jungkook.

Even if Jungkook’s conscious knows that doing this with you was risky, it brought such a rush through the both of you. The act of being caught doing something neither of you should be doing just makes you two want to do it even more.

Jungkook’s lips are on you as soon as he enters your bedroom. His hand roams your already naked body, groaning against your lips. “You’re already naked and ready to be fucked.”

“You’re not naked enough.” you respond, tugging at his shirt.

Jungkook leans away from you enough to remove his shirt, throwing it aside. He’s already tugging at his belt, inching to remove his clothes and be closer to you.

Your legs wrap around Jungkook’s waist, bringing him close to you. You loved kissing him. He was a naturally passionate person, as if every time you kiss is the first time. He would savor the taste of your lips, kissing you gently and slowly.

Then there were times when Jungkook's kisses would be needy, kissing you with such intensity. It would grow hot and heavy, his tongue dominating with yours.

“‘wanna make you feel good.” you break the kiss first, your cheeks warm. 

Jungkook allows you to flip him so he’s on his back now. Your pussy is so close to his cock that it throbs. He swallows, licking his lips. “Yeah?”

You nod your head. You decide to tease Jungkook, kissing his soft cheeks, down his jaw to his chin. You make your way towards his neck.

Goosebumps erupt throughout Jungkook’s skin as you begin to kiss from his neck, to his collarbone to his chest. His hands rub along your back as you get lower and lower.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me to go to Jimin’s party.” you say. Your hand wraps around Jungkook’s cock. You glance up at him.

Jungkook bites his lip, gulping once more. “If I don’t go, Jay would be suspicious, don’t you think? I’m always at a party with them.”

You roll your eyes, but Jungkook had a point. Your tongue swipes at his tip, causing him to inhale sharply. 

“I’ll miss you.” you say against his cock, twirling your tongue teasingly around his tip. You can taste the salty pre-cum and you’re determined to have him shaking in the next five minutes.

You enjoyed sucking Jungkook’s cock. 

The act of sucking dick is far more enjoyable when it’s someone you actually liked. Doing this with Jungkook was an activity you highly favored - witnessing the way his breathing would hitch in his throat with each suckle onto his hardened length. The way his thighs would shake a bit as you take him deeper and deeper into your wet mouth. The groans that would come from his own parted lips.

Your eyes would glance up at him to find that his own are fluttering. His head would be drawn back in relaxation.

It would cause your own heat to throb with such need - just like now. You aren’t being quiet as you engulfed his cock into your mouth. Your soft hand is gripped tightly, gripping his cock along with you when you reach the tip.

Jungkook himself is whimpering like a bitch - but it isn’t his fault you’re this good. You suck him as if it brings you pleasure, as well - and maybe in a way, it does. He knows just how wet you get by hearing him moan for you. You’d often clench your thighs together and provoke more moans from his lips and each time, it worked.

“You’re so good at sucking my cock, baby.” Jungkook sighs, a hand resting on your head. “You always look so pretty doing it.”

There goes the throbbing - you were also a sucker for praise just as you were for degradation. Or maybe you were just into whatever as long as it was Jungkook.

Through his lashes, Jungkook witnesses a bit of drool trickle from the corner of your mouth as you take his cock deeper and deeper, your throat tightening around him. He closes his eyes, whining at how good it feels, the pressure building up deep in his stomach. He was never afraid to moan for you, especially when you were treating him so well.

Jungkook’s fingers tightens in your hair and without warning, he pries you off of him. You gag, saliva flying down your chin. Your eyes blink a few times until your blurry vision is clear to look at your boyfriend.

“I wanna cum in you.” Jungkook pants. 

You nod your head hastily, already climbing into Jungkook’s lap. Your thighs widen to and gently,  you sink lower where Jungkook’s cock is already waiting, his palm wrapped firmly around it to assist in entering it inside of you.

“You’re already so wet by just sucking my cock, huh?” Jungkook murmurs, his tip running through your wet folds. “You always get so wet.”

Your walls clench when you feel Jungkook begin to enter you. You whine a bit, the feeling euphoric. One palm lays firmly around your waist, another on your ass as he thrusts upwards. He grips the flesh in his palm, sinking you firmly on top of him.

“You feel so good.” Jungkook gasps.

You take the first initiative to rise and fall, needing to feel him entirely. Jungkook allows you, fully enjoying the way you take control and use him for your own pleasure.

You rocked your hips, mouth fallen open to let out short whines of pleasure when his cock springs inside of you by your own doing. The sight of Jungkook beneath you, completely pussy whipped, sends electricity through you. His staminas always outmatched your own, but this had given you enough will to keep on, completely blissful and full of pride that Jungkook was like this because of you.

“Your cock feels so good, Kookie.” you coo, hovering above his face as your hips buckle more and more, skin slapping echoing off your walls. Your pussy is so wet, gushing out entirely and onto his thighs that it’s nearly unbearable to handle.

“We’re being so loud right now. We can be caught at any moment.” A hand lays onto Jungkook’s cheek, a thumb tracing along his panting lips. Jungkook’s eyes open a bit to look at you - they’re dark and full of lustful bliss. “Maybe I should slow down…”

You’re only teasing him, but Jungkook gives you the reaction you want.

“Please don’t.” Jungkook whines, gripping onto your hips and ass tighter. “You’re so good at this, baby. I love your pussy so much.”

You pick up the pace, bouncing onto Jungkook’s needy cock with every bit of will you have. It hits against your sweet spot and sends jolts of pleasure throughout your body. You couldn’t help but want to fuck him with every fiber of your being; especially with how hot he looked beneath you. 

You press your lips against Jungkook’s firmly, prying them open so your tongue can dance with his. Jungkook’s hips begin to meet you halfway, allowing a more harsher pounding - all until you stop bouncing and let him take control.

It wasn’t a complete mistake, Jungkook knows how to fuck you just as good. Your pussy squelches for him. Squeezing and unsqueezing with each punishing thrust that you were beginning to see stars. 

Your teeth clamp down onto Jungkook’s bottom lip, tugging it slightly. There is a tightness in your stomach with each thrust that has you whimpering against him, your forehead pressed against his. “I want you to cum in me.” you beg, knowing that you were so close and the action was going to be what was going to send you over the edge.

“I know you do.” Jungkook sighs. His thrusts are already sloppy. “You always do, baby. You love having my cum in you, huh? You’re such a fucking whore for me and I love it.”

The pressure subsides when the warmth fills you entirely. You're shaking against Jungkook as his cum fills you up. You let out a tired sigh, slumping onto his chest.

Jungkook’s chest rises and falls as he breathes heavily. His eyes are closed, his cock still inside of you. A hand rubs against your back softly. It was another five minutes until you moved from on top of him to beside him, an arm around his torso.

“Are you coming back later tonight?” you asked, eyes closed. “Jay never comes home after parties.”

Jay also goes to work the next day, which is such a dangerous combo, but you have to applaud his will to get shit faced just 5 hours before he clocks into work.

“Me being here is already risky.” Jungkook responds. He presses his lips into your hair, inhaling the scent prior to pressing a kiss onto it. “Why don’t you just come to mine later? I’m off tomorrow,  too.”

You and Jungkook lay in silence for who knows how long until there’s footsteps heard throughout the home. 

Jay was back. He never enters your room without permission, so you weren’t worried. Quietly, Jungkook begins to dress, the moment not truly ruined, but he wished he had more time with you.

You poke your head out, eyes roaming the hallway to see where Jay had gone. Down the hall, you hear the shower on.

“Coast is clear.” you sing-song, whispering to the man hovering behind you.

You linger at your front door as Jungkook makes his way out. He turns to you for a moment and smirks. “Don’t look so sad, my love.” Jungkook murmurs. He wraps you in a hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’ll have all my attention later.”

You lift your head so Jungkook can press a kiss to your lips - and he does. You knew full and well that you would have his attention later.

Right when you showed up to Jimin’s party.

Jimin was always here when there was drama.

Not in his personal life, of course. But others? He loved it.

Just like now, witnessing you and Jungkook glaring at one another. Both of you are drunk and seething and only he notices it.

It began when you had walked right into the party, a sea of dancing bodies all around the large home. You were none the wiser when you witnessed Jungkook next to a woman - who was obviously flirting with the man, yet he’s as oblivious as he always is. 

Jungkook doesn’t notice you at first, and even if he had it wasn’t as if he was entertaining the woman. He was just too nice to tell her that he had no interest in a conversation. That, and he was terrible at flirting cues - the batting eyelashes, wide smile and constant laughing even if nothing he said was remotely funny.

It was hilarious for Jimin to watch. Especially when Jungkook had finally noticed you. The look in your eyes as your eyes glanced between the two of them. It was as if a light bulb flashed in Jungkook’s mind, and he finally realized that the girl wanted more than a conversation.

Jungkook couldn’t pursue you here without appearing suspicious. Jay hadn’t noticed your presence yet, and Jimin doubted he would. He was already drunk and upstairs participating in beer pong to know that his sister was downstairs in a rather tight dress that revealed more than he would approve of.

Jimin began to watch you and Jungkook as if it was his favorite reality show. You downed shot after shot, ignoring Jungkook entirely. When he would get close enough to catch your attention, you would turn on your heel and go somewhere else entirely.

An hour in now and Jungkook was leaning against a wall not too far from you. He watches you with annoyed, yet interested, eyes as you dance. You were enjoying yourself, he thinks, or maybe you were enjoying ignoring him while you know he watches you closely.

Jungkook doesn’t step up as he watches you, beer bottle in hand. He sips it.

Jungkook doesn’t step up until there’s a man directly behind you. Jimin watches, his eyes glancing between a now more puzzled Jungkook and you, an equally puzzled expression.

It happens so slow in Jimin’s eyes. The way Jungkook storms over, pushing the dancing bodies away to get right between the man - who is an acquaintance - and you. There’s a few words exchanged that Jimin cannot make out of, but he reads Jungkook’s lips and he’s sure he’s telling the man to fuck right off.

Jimin takes a shot as Jungkook turns to you, his eyes glaring just as yours are, but neither of you speak. It was so dramatic, he thinks, the loud music. Sea of people surrounding the two of you, yet he’s positive that at this moment, it’s just you and Jungkook. The music in your ears is dying down and the people are just blurs in the background.

That, or maybe Jimin was so drunk that he was making a whole plot in his head.

“You’re drunk.” Jungkook says.

“So are you.” you retort. “Where’s your friend?”

“You know who my friends are.”

You cross your arms. “Do I?”

Jungkook watches you for a moment. He had watched you the entire time, tight dress riding up your thighs with each sway of your hips before the man had come and attempted to dance with you. An action he was never going to allow, no matter how upset you were with him.

“I’ve been watching you since you came in.” Jungkook speaks.

Jimin rarely dims the lights, but he feels as though now it’s needed. For this moment, he thinks. On his phone, he does just that. 

Thank God for smart lights. 

Jungkook would thank him for allowing him some sort of privacy - especially if Jay suddenly appears and witnesses this. Now, you and Jungkook blended perfectly into the crowd of dancing bodies.

“I bet you have.”

Jungkook feels more comfortable touching you now that the scene was darker. The music is upbeat enough for the both of you to keep up. He turns you around, placing his hands onto your hips. 

“You’ve been distracting me.”

You decide to do what you were doing prior, swaying your hips now against Jungkook instead of alone by yourself.

“You must want to get caught.”

The small quarrel you and he were having appeared to have diminished, unknowingly to them because of Jimin and the lack of light. It was easier now to blend with people that couldn’t truly see you unless they were close. 

“You’re the one behind me.” you respond. “Maybe it’s you that wants to get caught.”

Jungkook’s lips are on your neck, his hands gripping tighter to keep you firmly against him. 

“You look so good in this dress.” Jungkook says against your neck. “You knew what you were doing coming here in this.”

You were already warm, but Jungkook was now making you hot. You and he continue dancing, his hands roaming your body for whatever feel he could get. 

“Suddenly you’re not afraid of getting caught.” your head leans back and turns to look up at him. Those eyes are familiar, you think. The yearning eyes he has whenever he wants to bend you over and fuck you. 

“No one’s really watching us now, are they?” Jungkook’s hands roam upwards past your breast and onto your chin.

Jimin has to admit that a drunk Jungkook was a far bolder one. He watches him place his lips onto yours, all the while you and he sway against the beat. This was far better than any reality tv he’s watched.

Your lips dance with Jungkook, completely uncaring about being in a room full of people who both knew you and him - together or separately. As of right now, it was just you and Jungkook, both of your minds swirling with liquid courage.

“I want you.” you pant against his lips. 

“What happened to playing hard to get?” Jungkook chuckles, pecking your lips once more. 

“We can go upstairs.” you murmur, turning to face him.

“Jay is upstairs.”

It’s as though Jungkook suddenly remembers where you and he are at. His eyes glances around, ensuring that no one has been watching you. Of course, he doesn’t notice Jimin.

“Can’t we go home then?” you pout. You grab his hands and slightly squeeze them. “I need you.”

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek.  “Now?” he questions. 

You nod your head. You come closer to him, tugging his hand. “I’m so wet.” you murmur. “Just feel.”

Jungkook swallows. You’re dangerously close. Your eyes watch him just as his hand discreetly goes between your legs and swipe at your clothed clit.

Wet wasn’t the word - drenched was.Your cotton panties were doing a good job at concealing your arousal, but Jungkook groans at just feeling how excited you were.

“Fuck, baby.”

Jungkook grabs a hold of your hand. “Follow me.”

The bathrooms were occupied. Jungkook wasn’t going to risk trying the one upstairs and bumping into Jay. He had promised to meet him later on for a game of beer pong, and he never turned down a game so leaving before that wasn’t going to happen.

“What if we get caught here?”

The sun room is the only part of the house that’s empty, as strange as it was. It’s dark out and the frosted glass on the walls allows a bit of privacy. The top of said sun room has regular glass windows where the moon and stars shine just bright enough for Jungkook and you to see one another.

“Isn’t that what makes this fun?” Jungkook smirks. He closes the door behind you and him, the music muffled. “Imagine someone coming out here and finding me fucking you?”

You lick your lips, clenching your thighs together. 

Jimin’s sunroom was simple, a round rug that held a round coffee table and four surrounding chairs. A few plants surround the room, some tall while others not. 

“Please fuck me, Kook.”

Jungkook grunts. “You’re that desperate?” he scoffs.

You are. You don’t want foreplay or anything - you just want his cock buried deep inside of you.

You lean against a chair, hiking up your dress. Jungkook is just as needy, undoing his belt and pushing his pants down.

“You’re such a fucking whore, Y/N. So cock hungry that you’re willing to get fucked anywhere.”

Jungkook’s fingers hook between your panties and shoves them down. Your glistening cunt welcomes him and without much thought, he dives in.

You and Jungkook aren’t even trying to be quiet. His hips snap and he’s fucking you with such punishing - yet delicious - speed. Your ass bounces against him, pussy squelching loudly as the sound of skin slapping dances around the room.

“My pretty girl,” Jungkook grunts. In and out, in and out - he fucks you with such need. Your pussy hypnotizes him and all he can focus on is the way you cream against his cock, whimpering and begging for more. “you’re such a good little whore, Y/N. Fuck,” he lets out a strangled groan. “all mine. I’m all yours, too.”

Your eyes glances at the shut door, adrenaline rushing through you at the thought of someone finding you and Jungkook in here. His fucking you with such greed, showing you and anyone else who saw that you were his.

That finally Jeon Jungkook was yours, and no one else. After silently crushing on him since your youth, now you and Jungkook are together. He was as yours just as much as you were his.

“I love you so much, Kook~”

It was easier saying it seeing as you’ve said it before - countless times. All those back when he thought of you as a little sister. Now, however, it causes his heart to jolt in his chest and the familiar pressure in his stomach to return. “Fuck,” Jungkook hisses, coming closer to you. “I-I love you, too.”

It didn’t feel weird saying - Jungkook did love you. It was more complicated now, only because of your brother, but he didn’t feel like he said it out of lust. He genuinely did have love for you, far more than he had when you and he were children.

Jungkook shoots warm cum deep inside of you, his right hand reaching between your legs to rub at your clit. You’re gripping his cock, thighs shaking with overstimulation until you’re cumming all over him.

“Oh,”

The door opens for a moment and Taehyung walks halfway through it before noticing Jungkook and you. His eyes are wide and slowly, he begins to back out. “I see the room’s already taken. Fuck,” he hisses.

The door closes and for a moment, Jungkook and you are silent.

“Is he…”

“He’s drunk.” Jungkook assures. “He’s not going to remember walking in here.”

Jungkook pulls your panties back up and your dress down before fixing himself. You sit slump against the chair to catch your breath.

“We should tell Jay.” 

Your eyes glances at Jungkook who sits besides you in another seat.

You bite your lip.

“It doesn’t have to be now or even a month from now.” Jungkook says. “But…we can’t keep this secret forever. I can’t keep pretending to hold it together around you.”

You softly smile, recalling the way Jungkook had glared daggers at the man before.

“And neither can you.”

Jungkook’s teasing, but you’re fully aware of that yourself. Your hand tangles with his and he brings it to his lips. 

“Until then,” you give him a playful smile. “you’re still going to fuck me when he’s asleep down the hall?”

Jungkook laughs aloud. “Of course.” he says - because the act of sneaking into your room as if you and he were horny teenagers in a forbidden romance was fun.

trivia-yandere: hopefully this final part satiates you guys :3

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