#who remembers when The Weeknd was good

[kamiversee]

˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗

7 | What's it gonna take

❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.

❧ Content | language, fluff, teasing, dry humping, sexual tension, etc.

❧ Word Count | 5.6k

❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.

| Chapters mlist |

——The next morning you wake up with your cheek pressed against something warm, an oversized t-shirt clothing you and one of your legs resting atop something. You quickly find out that the something in question happens to be none other than the man you had sex with the night prior, your best friend, Choso Kamo.

Laying on his naked chest, before your eyes even peel open, you relish in the gentle smell of his cologne. Surely you don’t remember either of you showering last night and yet here he was smelling as though nothing had even occurred. But hey, you’re pretty sure you passed out at some point so you wouldn’t be surprised if he cleaned himself up while you were sleeping.

The sound of a phone dinging oddly close by makes you finally crack your eyes open, the first thing you’re met with is a phone in Choso’s hand not too far away from you. Since you were lying slightly on top of him, you could feel the deep breath he took due to the most recent notification. 

In the background was the faint sound of The Weeknd— you’ve got no idea what song was playing but it was there somewhere, sounding a bit far away. That aside, instead of focusing everywhere all at once, you center your gaze on Choso’s phone and watch his thumb linger over that recent notification.

You had to blink a few times to read it but the most you got from the text there was a ‘Hey, can u call me when u wake up? I wanna talk about last night…’ from someone named… Hori? You’ve got no idea who that is but the message is swiped away and blatantly ignored before you get to think about it any further.

Choso then swipes through the rest of his messages, answering some recent texts from his family members up until one message catches your eye yet again. It was something from his Uncle and the only reason it caught your eye is because your name was mentioned. Allas, before you could read anything past the words ‘Are you still,’ Choso was swiping out of the text thread entirely and you were soon spotting your contact.

Choso, being the total sweetheart he is, has your name happily saved as ‘Idiot #1’. You wouldn’t expect anything more or less from him but reading that made you scoff, which alerts him that you’re awake.

Followed by his realization is his heavily husked tone hitting your ears, “Well, good morning to you too.”

You almost smile at his voice alone. Something about it had your heart twinging in an unusual way and your lips twitching before you shifted your head up to look at him, “Mornin’ Cho.”

Choso’s gaze softens as it meets yours and you catch the way his whole expression and vibe seem to come at peace all at once. “How’d you sleep?” Holy shit the rasp in his voice was making your legs twitch against him ever so slightly, your eyes fleeting elsewhere.

“Fine, I think,” You hum, glancing around his bedroom until you spot the TV, “You?” As you ask that, you’ve located the source of lowly volumed music.

“Better than I have in a while,” Choso sighs as his eyes remain on your face, “How do you feel?”

You turn to him again and tilt your head, “I feel okay but uh, better than you have in a while?” You repeat with a lift of your brow, “Good pussy gave you some good rest, huh?”

He rolls his eyes at that question immediately, “Oh but I’m the ‘cocky bastard’.”

A smile graces your face and you shrug, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yeah,” Choso replies simply, “I guess you could say that.”

You chuckle at that and let out a little hum, to which he grins at you. Was there something in the air? Because Choso was staring at you like you were the only thing he’s ever cared to lay his eyes upon and you couldn’t get yourself to break away from his gaze for a long moment.

“Cho,” You hush out, watching as his brows lift, “Why’s my name saved as Idiot number one in your phone??”

Annnnd moment ruined.

Choso chuckles, “Cause’ you’re idiot number one, duh.”

“Why the number? Are there more idiots you know?” You muse, smiling slightly at the man.

“Two things; one, if there were, would you be jealous? And two, did you just willingly call yourself an idiot?” Your brown-haired best friend huffs out in jest, intrigued by your questions.

You shrug, “One; no. And two; yes.”

Ah, he’s full-on smiling at you now. Something was definitely in the air because Choso hasn’t felt this banter with you in forever and his heartfelt weird experiencing it again. 

Then he’s shaking his head at you, “You’re a dumbass.”

“I have my moments, I suppose,” You hum before slowly moving to sit up. The second you try moving, there’s a throb coming from just about everywhere— more specifically your thighs and back, which causes you to wince and pause in your movements, “Shit.”

Choso’s sitting up along with you and he tips his head to the side, “I asked you how you felt ‘nd you said you were okay.”

You scoff, “I was before I-“

He doesn’t even let you finish before he’s reaching over to his nightstand and grabbing something for you. Then he’s handing said unknown items to you and earning a confused glance from your face.

“Ibuprofen for your pain,” Choso explains, handing you one of two pills, “And uh, morning after for your uh-,” He awkwardly clears his throat as he processes a few things in his head, “So you don’t get, y’know… Since I uh-“

“Fucked me full of your cum last night?” You say bluntly, making his entire face heat up.

“Y-Yeah,” Choso stutters as a very prominent shade of red spreads across his face, “Since I did that.”

You smile at how shy he’s being before taking those pills from his hand, raising a brow at the man as you gesture to them, “So, am I supposed to throat these pills raw?”

“I’m sure you could if you wanted to,” He comments casually while reaching over for a water bottle, “But if you need me to stretch your throat out beforehand just say the word and I’ll-“

“Christ, Choso,” You gasp as you slap your free hand over his mouth. He smiles against you and hands you the water bottle he was reaching for. “How do you get shy from the thought of last night but then all bold two seconds later??” You huff before taking your hand off his mouth and grabbing the water bottle.

Choso shrugs, “Cause’ I almost got you pregnant last night,” He says reluctantly, the tips of his ears burning red, “But I can’t get you pregnant if I fuck your throat.”

You roll your eyes at him before taking the given medicine swiftly. Choso’s smile widens a bit and he quietly watches you gulp down the water and two pills, his eyes unknowingly focusing in on your throat for longer than intended. The way you effortlessly swallow-, which should be expected, you’re only drinking water but…

That small little ahh you let out as the bottle is retracted from your lips, the way you managed to cause a slip of water to escape your mouth, followed by an innocent glance in his direction, and then your eyes are on his and his eyes are on your lips and he just-

“You want to?” You ask casually, earning even more of his undivided attention.

“Want to, what?” Choso murmurs with a soft furrow of his brows.

You chuckle and lean closer to him. Then, you lean down a bit so he can look into your eyes and not at your lips, “Fuck my throat.”

Choso swallows thickly as he gazes deep into your eyes, “Right now?”

You scoff, “No, idiot. I’m sore enough everywhere else-“

“What’s one more place?” He cuts off, suddenly all too interested in the mere idea of face fucking you.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips, “Choso.” You murmur sternly.

“I’ll be gentle,” He whispers back, slowly reaching for your waist and carefully pulling you closer to him.

And then you’re on top of him all over again, your thighs spread and straddling him comfortably.

You shake your head, “Cho-“

“I promise,” He urges as he leans back and pulls your upper half with him until he’s resting against his headboard and your face is less than an inch away from his, “I’ll ease my cock in, take it nice ‘nd slow with you if that’s what you want, princess.”

Your body heats up at both his words and how gentle he’s already being, “Choso… We like, just woke up.”

He flashes that stupidly sexy but lazy smile at you, “Not a big fan of morning sex?”

“I actually am but,” You pause for a minute. Your eyes just linger on Choso’s and you feel his hands trail down to your hips, then your thighs, and then he’s squeezing slightly.

Choso leans in, “But…?”

“I’m sore,” You whisper.

“You’re sore,” He echoes as if to say it more to himself than to you. With that, he lets off a little nod before slouching back, “Right. Well, can I at least get a kiss?”

“S’that all you want?” You hum while leaning forward and slipping your arms around his neck.

Choso nods again and his eyes greedily drop down to your lips, “Uhuh.”

His hands start sliding up again, as if he just can’t get enough of touching and feeling you. You grin before your lips are slotting into his, his grasp on you tightening all of a sudden. He feels you whine into the kiss and bites back a smile as his hands continue to slip upward.

Choso’s fingertips dance just barely under the fabric of the shirt you’re wearing (his shirt) and you soon feel him hold onto the bare skin of your hips. His hands weren’t exactly rough but they weren’t the softest either. Choso’s skin was an odd mix of both, some areas were more calloused than the others and you could always tell he used his hands quite a bit.

He slides up again with his touch, holding onto your waist before tugging you even closer and kissing you passionately. You hum against him before he starts easing his tongue into your mouth.

And then the kiss is getting hotter and he’s gasping against your lips when you unintentionally rock your hips against him. 

Choso pries away and drops down to your neck, planting kiss after kiss and relishing in every sigh you let out. “Thought you were sore?” He hums into your skin.

You smile, “I am,” Then you’re tilting your head to give him better access and his hands are dropping back down to your thighs.

“Where?” Choso asks softly while caressing the top of your thighs and still kissing tenderly at your neck.

“The back of my legs, kinda,” You explain quietly with his hands moving the moment you speak, “And my back-, b-but mainly under my thighs.”

“Mh,” Choso hums and then he’s sliding his fingers underneath your thighs and pressing into your skin, earning a noticeable wince from you. “Here?” He whispers.

You nod and he kisses under your jaw, his hands focusing on those sore areas of yours as he massages them carefully. 

This goes on for a while up until your head ends up resting on his shoulder and he massages your legs while you remain seated on top of him. Gasping every time he presses into your skin just right and whining while he soothes your tired muscles, you find your eyes squeezed shut as he touches you.

“Right there, Cho,” You whine, to which he rotates his fingertips against the most recent area he was in.

Choso turns and presses his lips into your neck, “You make this sound so sexual, y’know,” He teases.

You roll your eyes, “It just feels good, a-and I’m not doin’ it on purpose.”

“Sure you aren’t,” He chuckles.

Then, the two of you simmer back into that comfortable silence of yours, his hands working your tense skin with care as you remain as still as possible.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

Roughly ten minutes go by until you seem to be a lot more relaxed under his touch. The same artist that’s been playing lowly from the TV can still be heard, Double Fantasy by The Weeknd being the song filling the still air of the room. 

At some point, Choso decides he can start teasing you again and he moves his lips to your ear, “Where else are you sore, pretty girl?” He whispers way too affectionately.

You quickly pull your head away from him and shoot him a pointed look, “I told you my back…”

He meets that little glare of yours with a smirk, “I really did a number on you, huh?” Choso teases while sliding his hands up to your back and soon pressing his fingers against your spine.

You sigh and your lashes flutter in relief, “Uhuh.”

Your best friend continues to soothe you, skillfully running his hands all up and down your back to relieve the tension. And it felt nice to be cared for like this by him. Usually, if you were sick or ever feeling bad— he’d shrug you off and tell you to thug it out (affectionately).

But now? Choso was the sweetest you’ve ever experienced from him. You wondered how long this would last-

“Choso,” You breathe out, having felt his hand wander off.

“Hm?” He hums innocently.

You almost laugh at the man, “That’s my ass.”

He bites back a laugh of his own, “Yeah, I know. You’re not sore here?” Choso questions while he palms and squeezes at the fat of your ass.

“No, Choso,” You snicker, “You just wanted an excuse to touch my ass.”

“Noooo,” He drags out playfully as his smile begins to mirror yours. You raise a brow at him and he quickly folds, “Okay, maybe. But I dunno, I couldn’t help myself. You’re sittin’ on top of me and lookin’ at me like…”

Your head weighs to the side as you search his eyes for an explanation, “Like what?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know how to describe it but it makes me crave you.”

“C-Crave me?” Your lashes bat in surprise and he nods.

Choso’s naturally sleepy features remain neutral as he peers into your eyes, “Mhm.”

You try to laugh his little statement off, “One night with me and now you’re obsessed?”

“Addicted, maybe.” Choso whispers so faintly you almost miss it.

Almost, “Seriously?” You utter in response.

He swallows, sitting there just staring at you while his hand continues mindlessly squeezing your ass. He has such a mellow expression with you right now. You’ve felt comfort with Choso before but never to this degree. Everything about the way he’s looking at you right now is making your heart feel odd.

“No.” He eventually says in a firm tone.

You scrunch your brows, “Cho-“

“I was joking, shut up.” He cuts off— feeling distant with you all over again.

“No you weren’t,” You refute, scoffing at the man, “You really are addicted to me now, aren’t y-“

He’s cutting you off with another kiss, to which you freeze completely. Your brain simply halts at the feel of his lips on yours again. So soft and gentle with you, like he’s been waiting years to do this and wants to sink into this feeling forever. Hell, maybe he has been waiting for years.

It’s nowhere near the first time he’s ever kissed you but, something about your lips on his makes his mind lose all sensible thoughts for a minute. Which is why both of his hands are dropping to your ass and he’s pulling you impossibly closer to him.

He pushes against you a bit harder and you gasp at how needy his hands are on you. Your lips part against him and he gifts your ass with a smack, earning a faint moan from you.

“Fuck,” Choso sears in between your lips, gripping and grabbing at all of you.

Your chest is pressed tightly against his and because of his tight grip on you, you can’t help the gentle rock of your hips against him.

Seconds, it takes mere seconds for you to feel his cock poking up at your unclothed cunt.

Then Choso’s snatching his lips off of yours and dropping to your neck again, “Don’t stop,” He groans, “Please.”

You moan at the way he shifts one hand to your hips and constantly tugs you against him, grunting hotly into your neck as he feels your bare cunt rub against his cock— one flimsy layer left between the two of you.

“C-Cho, we shouldn’t-,” You’re cut off by him gently lifting his hips against you, a soft gasp escaping you instead.

“Why?” He breathes, moving to grab your ass as you grind against him a bit harder, “We have the whole day to ourselves,” Choso whispers.

You toss your head back and he starts sucking on your neck, careful not to leave a mark. “B-Because… we just, hah, we shouldn’t.”

He scoffs, “Scared of noise complaints?”

“No?”

“Should be,” Choso hums as he bites back a throaty groan from the way he feels you right against his tip. “Shit, did you-, hah, notice what I did to the wall yet?”

Your brows twist up before you turn and catch sight of a rather large hole in the wall, one caused by Choso’s previous roughness with you and the bed knocking into it a little too hard.

“Choso!” You gasp, “How the hell did you-“

“I knew I heard somethin’ last night too,” He chuckles, “I was just too wrapped up in you to care.”

“You-“

“I’m sorry,” Choso breathes out almost finally before reenacting his acts from last night and swiftly flipping the two of you over, pinning you down against his bed and rolling his cock down hard against you.

You gasp, “Oh fuck-, why’re you s-so…”

He tilts his head, the veins decorating his arms flexing, “So what?” He breathes.

“Fuckin’ hard,” You nearly laugh, smiling a bit at the man, “We just woke up not too long ago. H-How do you get turned on so easily?”

Choso chuckles as if to taunt you, “You do know I can feel you right?”

“Huh?”

“I’m not the only one turned on,” He scoffs, leaning down to speak while his lips graze yours, “I can feel how wet you are, idiot.”

You gulp, “I…”

Choso nibbles on your lower lip and tugs for a moment before whispering, “Let’s jus’ make it quick, yeah?”

“Choso.” You utter sternly in protest.

“Promise,” He pants, “I promise it’ll be quick-, maybe I’ll jus’ put the tip in, c’mon.” His hips mash down against yours, causing the outline of his erect cock to push further against you.

You moan, “Mgh, but-“

“I need you,” Choso groans, sounding almost pained, “Jus’ a little bit more of you, please,” He whines.

“Fuck, o-okay, fine-“

And then he’s kissing you again, rutting his clothed cock against you over and over while he messily reaches his hands down to his sweats. Snatching at his drawstring, eager to remove the tiring layer of clothing, Choso’s kissing you like his life depends on it.

You’re such an idiot— giving into your best friend for yet a second time in a row. Were you addicted? Isn’t this wrong? Choso’s your best friend. Your best friend.

He’s just about to pull his sweatpants down before he’s rudely interrupted by the ringing of the apartment doorbell.

You both freeze, panting heavily as if you’ve been caught doing something you had no business doing. Gulping, Choso lets out a long and frustrated groan before dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

“Can we just ignore them?” He asks you.

You giggle, “No, it’s probably one of our neighbors.”

“Oh,” Choso practically smiles at that, “You’re right. They’re probably here to give us an earful about our noise last night. Or well, your noise-“

“Shut up and go answer the door,” You scoff, “I’ll probably be here when you get back.”

“Probably?” Choso questions as he sits up and slides out of his bed.

You shrug, “I might run back to my room while you’re distracted so uh, be quick.”

A wink is sent to the man and he fights the urge to just stare at you in awe. You probably have no idea how you look right now, wearing his shirt, one of the many hickeys he left on you poking out from your collarbone, laying in his bed all tired but horny because of him-

Okay, enough of that for now. Choso shakes himself out of his little reverie and glances around his bedroom floor to spot a different pair of sweats to slip into. He swiftly does so, groaning in discomfort while he turns his back to you and debates on putting a shirt on.

You lay in his bed staring at him, your eyes widening at his back profile and the numerous bright red scratch marks decorating his skin. Damn, did you do that last night?

You almost smile at the sight but in the corner of your eye, for whatever reason, the lyrics to the song from earlier seem to catch your attention. Said song was over by now but the last end of the hook was fading out. Brightly reading the words ‘Even though it’s wrong’.

Now, it’s just a song but you can’t help but find it funny considering you just had sex with Choso last night, and almost again just a few seconds ago. It’s almost like you were forgetting something-

“See what you did t’my back last night?” Choso’s voice tugs you from your mind and you look at him.

Scoffing, “Looks like you were attacked.” You comment teasingly.

Choso tosses the shirt he was considering putting on and shrugs, “Does it?”

“Yeah,” You sigh, laying on your side and watching him glance into his bedroom mirror.

The man turns around briefly to admire the marks left on him and he grins, “Holy shit,” Choso breathes, smiling at the sight, “I looked at it a bit last night but fuck, you clawed at me like crazy.”

“…Did you not feel it while you were fucking me down into the mattress ‘nd telling me to ‘take it’ for like twenty minutes straight?” You ask dryly.

He pretends to think for a long moment and opens his mouth to say something snarky but another ring of the doorbell cuts him off.

“Better go get that,” You hum playfully.

Choso groans, clearly annoyed by the constant interruption before swiftly exiting the room. Entering the hall, passing the living room and the kitchen, and soon approaching the door.

He lets out a yawn as he unlocks the door and soon opens it, “If this is about the noise last night, I jus’ wanna cut this short by sayin’ I’m-, oh,” Choso cuts himself short as he makes eye contact with the person awkwardly standing at the door.

The man in front of him furrows his brows, “I uh-“

Choso interrupts by putting a hand up and glancing back inside the apartment, “Door’s for you!” He shouts back to you. Then, he looks at the person in front of him one more time, sizes him up, and scoffs, “She’ll be out in a sec'.”

The man opens his mouth to reply but Choso rudely slams the door in his face.

Frustrated, and with his mood almost completely ruined, Choso groans again as he makes his way back to his bedroom. As he walks in, he spots you sitting on the edge of his bed looking down at something on the floor before you look back at him over your shoulder.

“What do you mean the door’s for me?” You ask softly, “And uh,” He watches you lean down to pick up a tarnished piece of fabric, “When the hell did you rip my panties?”

“Last night, duh,” Choso huffs out rather sassily before brushing past his bed and heading toward his bathroom.

“You owe me a new pair,” You tell him with a pout on your face.

With no emotion in his voice, “I’ll buy you twenty.” He says curtly before disappearing into his bathroom completely.

You scoff at his sudden attitude and dismissal of your first question, moving to stand on slightly wobbly legs as you extend your arms into the air to stretch. Sighing, you glance around to find your shorts, soon spotting them and slipping into them before exiting the room.

Every step you take, you feel faint soreness but you think the medicine and massage Choso gave you helped your body not to feel too bad. As such, you steadily make your way to the front door— wondering if there’s a package for you or something. You still get the feel you’re forgetting something but between that and Choso’s sudden grumpiness, you just-

Every thought of yours comes to a sudden halt as you swing open the door.

“S-Satoru?” You breathe.

Oh, so that’s what you’d been forgetting. Gojo Satoru, y’know, the guy you’ve been getting along with better than you ever have with any other guy you know, the guy who’s nothing but a gentleman to you, the guy who you were literally dancing with less than twenty-four hours with, the-

Yeah, you get the point. Either way, you’re left staring up at the man with your eyes as wide as ever and your breath caught in the middle of your throat. Staring into Gojo’s kindhearted and dazzling blue eyes, feeling an abrupt rack of guilt lump up in your chest as your mind scrambles for some way to process your situation.

Swallowing thicker than ever, you slowly step out into the hall with him and shut your apartment door behind you, “What uh-, w-why-, what’re you doing here?” You stammer out with the faintest shake in your voice.

Gojo moves to scratch the back of his neck, “If I’m being honest, I’m not too sure myself.”

Blinking in confusion, you tilt your head, “What?”

“I just-,” Gojo sighs, “You didn’t respond at all last night or this morning, so I got a little worried…”

“So… you show up at my apartment?” You question further as you raise a brow at the man.

He winces, “Is that weird-, this, is this weird?” Gojo asks as he gestures to his being here.

Maybe if you weren’t guilty of sleeping with your best friend it wouldn’t be…

“U-Uh, no?” You huff out almost awkwardly, “I just wasn’t expecting you, sorry. My phone died on me last night and I never plugged it up.”

He nods before glancing to the side, “Busy with other things?” 

You choke on your own guilt all over again, “I-I’m sorry?”

“Your roommate said somethin’ about a noise complaint,” Gojo recalls simply as he looks at you once more.

Your brows go up, “Did he? Well, that’s probably from whatever he was up to before I got home.”

Gojo tilts his head at you and you feel as though he could see right through you, “Riight…” He hums, “Anyway, I just came over to make sure you were okay.”

“I appreciate that Gojo but what could’ve possibly have happened to me from last night when you dropped me off to this morning?” You point out to the man with a little laugh. Sure, regret and guilt were eating you alive right now but that still doesn't explain Gojo’s sudden appearance, “I live with someone I’ve known for like eight years.”

“I don’t know-, wait, you’ve known him for eight years?” He redirects as he narrows his eyes at you.

“I met him during my freshman year of high school, Satoru,” You chuckle, “He’s my best friend.”

“Is that all?” Gojo blurts out.

You blink, “Huh?”

The man gulps, having not meant to ask that so suddenly, “Like, are you two just best friends?”

“That’s what I just said, yes.” You reply straightforwardly.

“I-“

Quick to snap back at the man for questioning you in an accusing manner, “Aren’t you and Geto just best friends?” 

“Yeah,” He murmurs.

“Is that all?” You ask with a smirk.

“Of course-,” He cuts himself off with a scoff, “Okay, I see what you did there.”

“Mhm,” You hum, “So if that’s all then uh,” You slowly begin to motion toward the door behind you.

Gojo reaches a hand out, “Wait, are you free today?”

You pause, “Depends on what for.”

“Me,” He shrugs.

“Am I free for you today?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmmmm, I dunno, I gotta check my schedule, Satoru.” You say teasingly as you lean left against the doorframe, “I’m a busy woman, y’know…”

Those pretty rose-tinted lips of his curve into a smirk, “Oh are you now?”

You smile, “Mhmm..”

Gojo takes a little step closer and lifts his shoulders, “Can’t you spare some of your time for your favorite barista?”

“I can consider,” You tell him before eyeing the man up and down, “What did you wanna do with me anyway?”

“Jus’ hang out.” He explains simply.

“That’s all?”

���Mhm.”

Clicking your tongue, “I would but, I was planning on taking a bit of a rain check today.”

“Oh,” Gojo hums, his brows lifting in surprise, “That’s uh-, that’s cool. I mean, yeah, no, that’s-“

“Satoru,” You snort.

He stops himself from making even more of a fool of himself, clearing his throat and meeting your gaze, “Yes?”

Lifting a finger, you gesture him to come closer and he shuffles his feet toward you. Then, you reach up for his shirt and carefully pull him down to you.

“Stop being such a dork,” You sigh with a smile on your face. Then you plant a kiss on his cheek and hug him, “And thank you for coming to check on me.”

Gojo’s body goes still for a moment while you wrap your arms around his neck and push up on your toes to hug him fully. After which, his arms are engulfing your waist and he’s letting out a sigh as he reciprocates your hug.

“Anytime,” He murmurs, his hands caressing your back, “Sorry if I made things weird…”

You chuckle, “You’re fine, Satoru. You jus’ surprised me, that’s all.” You slowly retract from the hug and meet his eyes one last time, “So… I’ll see you Monday morning?”

He nods, “Yeah.”

And with that, the two of you are steady to say your goodbyes to one another— soon parting ways as you watch him leave before disappearing back into your apartment and letting you the heaviest sigh ever.

Silence engulfs you as you stand there at the door for a moment. What are you? Some kinda slut? You literally had sexual interactions with not one, but two men on the same night.

Christ, what the hell got into you last night (aside from Choso)? Now the guilt was really settling in. It hit you earlier when you first laid eyes on Gojo but now that you’ve spoken to him, it’s like you feel even worse.

How could you completely forget him last night? The guy went out of his way to show up the next morning just to make sure you were okay and yet there you were, having just been pulled away from having sex with your best friend for a second time. This was so beyond fucked up-

“Y’know if all else fails,” The sound of your brown-haired best friend speaking tugs you out of your thoughts, “You should really consider acting because that was-“

“Oh my god, Choso,” You instantly let out a long groan, turning around to glance at him standing in the nearby kitchen, “Please shut the hell up.”

He frowns, “What’d I do?”

A sigh of frustration is let out, “Me. You did me, and that’s the problem.”

His face contorts to confusion as your statement hits his ears, “How? It’s not like you’re dating the guy.”

He makes a rather good point there but that doesn’t stop you from feeling guilty about forgetting about him and lying to him. “But I like him.” You argue.

Choso rolls his eyes, “So? What does that-“

“A lot,” You emphasize.

Your best friend cocks his head to the side and crosses his arms, “You like him ‘a lot’ but you let me fuck you last night?” 

At that, your breath is caught in your throat, “I…”

He heaves out a really heavy sigh, “Look, if it makes you feel any better, I won’t say anything to him.”

You meet his gaze with thankful eyes, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Choso shrugs, “We had sex, who cares. Why would I go out of my way to tell him that?”

“Because you hate me and find joy in my suffering,” You comment jokingly.

He laughs, “I don’t hate you.”

“Debatable,” You argue, “But anyway, thanks.”

Then, you move away from the door and slowly start walking in the direction of your bedroom.

“Mhm,” Choso hums, his eyes following you, “So, are we gonna pick up where we left off or-“

You’re quick to cut him off and not allow yourself to let him have his way with you yet again— you feel shitty enough as is, “Not in the mood anymore, Cho.”

Choso, not fazed by your rejection in the slightest, merely nods, “Another time then?”

The last thing you say to him is a crisp, “No.” Before you disappear into your bedroom and shut your door behind you.

There’s the slightest panging felt in Choso’s heart at the sound of that but he ignores that feeling entirely. ‘No’, you said. He scoffs, yeah right, let’s see how long that lasts…

mlist | last chapter | next chapter |

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[asapeveryday]

SHOCK FACTOR★彡 Part 1

Next Chapter.

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Rival!Reader

Warnings: swearing

Summary: After a close game and a couple bad decisions, the media has pitted you and Paige against each other. When you finally meet off the court you’re not sure what to expect…

A/n: got many requests for some sort of rival player type-thing!!! I combined some ideas to please the masses :) there will be more parts obv. This chap is pretty long so sorry for that!!

___________________________________________________________

“This question here is for Paige again. Now, is there anything you have to say about the little altercation near the end of the third quarter with number 3 on USC? it was quite a tense moment!”

The blonde smirks to herself, her hand rubbing her forehead. “There ain’t much to say. I went for the ball and obviously she did too. I’m not tryna give anything up, I jus personally think I got it first but that doesn’t matter anymore.” She shrugs. “Thas it.”

There’s a pause for a moment, before she opens her mouth again. “I will say though, ion have much patience for players who can’t control their language.”

Her teammates share looks at this comment, and the reporters attempt to press further but Geno ensures Paige doesn’t talk for the rest of the press conference.

“(Name) how many times have you watched this fuckin video.” JuJu comes up from behind you, scaring the shit out of you and snapping you back to reality.

“I haven’t watched it that much.” You roll your eyes. “I just…never mind.”

“It’s time to move on, shit like this happens. Jus gotta keep on that grind.” She says, sitting down beside you. Despite being a freshman, Juju was naturally mature. You and her had become a popular junior/freshman duo both on and off the court. You pushed her harder and she kept you on your toes.

“I’m moved on.” You huff.

“No you’re not…look at yo hands gripping your phone.” She laughs and you roll your eyes.

The issue wasn’t the prolonged tussle for the ball when your team played UConn, it wasn’t Paige barely regarding you, or her shading the occasional curse you’d let slip during a game. These things all fuelled what really was bothering you. The way you responded.

TWO WEEKS EARLIER, POST UCONN GAME

“Where’s JuJu? Prolly eating or something she’s lowkey a big back.”

You laugh at your roommates response to the question. It had been a weird couple of days since USC faced UConn, usually there wasn’t a lot of buzz around women’s college games but this year was different. The media was all up on everyone, especially UConn since Paige returned in better health for her senior year. You decided to go live to have some fun and interact with your viewers, even though your mind was elsewhere.

“What were your thoughts on how you guys played Connecticut?” You read aloud from the chat. “Um, they’re great. I mean it was pretty close. Me and the girls did what we could and we’re gonna kill it next year, so.” You say, perfectly passive and normal. In your head you were furious at how close the game had been, but there was nothing you could do.

Near the end of the third quarter, you and Paige had a little tussle for possession of the ball. You could’ve sworn you’d gotten it before pale skinned hands darted out for the grab, almost stealing it from you before your instincts kicked in and managed your grip. You vividly remember the yells from teammates, coaches and the stands as you and Paige momentarily wrestled for the ball, her tongue sticking out between her lips and her eyes determined before number 3 on her team tore her away.

Grazing your hand against hers at the end of the game was humiliating, and she was undoubtedly looking forward to it; holding your fingers a moment too long before letting out the most agitating, self-fulfilled “good game” with a smile that would’ve warranted a punch to her teeth had you not been on camera.

You didn’t bother to smile back, but muttered a perfectly timed “bitch” just as her hand let go of yours. Nobody heard it except you and her, and the subtle change in expression from haughty to straight faced was a beautiful sight for sore eyes.

“They keep asking about the thing with Paige.” Your roomie reads, and you shove her. “Bro why’d you say that out loud…now I have to address it.” You whisper to her, annoyed. She wasn’t on the team, and didn’t think about things like that.

She shoots an apologetic look, and you decide to act like nothing happened. The damage is done though, because now all the comments are about Paige.

“You handled the press good after.”

“If I was you I would’ve taken it off the court ngl”

“You were wrong for that!”

“What happened with Paige???”

“The way she was looking at u after….mm”

“Did you see what she said on the panel?”

Scanning through the various questions you found it harder and harder to not think about it. Basketball is a contact sport, things like a fight for the ball weren’t rare. Sure it was a little aggressive, but nothing you weren’t ready for. Paige seemed ready herself, her hands gripping the already-in-your-grasp ball, her eyes shooting you the coldest look they could muster. You’d already seen edits of her all over social media, tousling with you for a moment before being dragged off by Aaliyah.

JuJu walks into your dorm and sits next to you, reading the comments as well. She slightly shakes her head at all the mentions of Paige, but greets the chat nevertheless.

Fuck it. It’s late night, you’ve been getting annoyed by all of this attention on Paige and you, and people weren’t gonna forget about it anytime soon. One comment won’t hurt.

“Did I see what Paige said on the panel?” You read out loud. JuJu shoots you a look. “Yeah…I did. ” You say, suspicious as possible. “Ion know…i jus don’t have much patience for that swiper no swiping shihhh…..stuff.” You mock Paige, then catch yourself before fully saying shit. Two digs at the blonde at UConn in one sentence, one for her statement and the other for her criticism on your swearing.

You, your roommate and JuJu all look at each other for what seems like an eternity before bursting into an explosion of laughter. You were just being petty, it didn’t seem like a big deal at the time.

It kinda was.

PRESENT TIME

You’ve always loved east-coast America. It has a different kind of feel, especially during spring. The weather was getting hotter and everyone is hyped for summer break, at least those without classes. You and some of your teammates were going on a little Big East road trip, and of course the east meant places like New York, Michigan, Boston, Rhode Island, Connecticut.

God, you weren’t ready for Connecticut. The media was really eating you and Paige’s (non-existent) beef up, and you wondered if it would translate into real life. What was worse was that you had a friend who went to UConn who you were seeing for sure.

“I am not coming to your school.” You said hastily over the phone.

“Chill.” Elaine, your friend responded. “Nobody wants you here anyways.”

“Shuttuppppp it’s not funny.” You whine, knowing she was joking but hoping there was no truth in the statement. You could handle the smoke of a mini rivalry, but confrontation was just awkward.

“Just be ready. The minute you’re in town let me know, we can go to my favourite bar.” She laughs.

“Got it.” You respond happily. You were gonna have a fun night out, things were gonna be chill. You’d maybe have a drink…maybe get hammered. It was gonna be good.

-

“You should go live.”

“No fucking way.” You shake your head. The bar was crowded, but nice. You understand why your friend wanted to take you.

“Are most of these people UConn kids?” You ask.

“Yeah.” Elaine responds, looking around. “This is like the Storrs hangout spot on a Friday night. Anyways, I’ve missed seeing your lives.”

“I know, I know.” You rub your head. “I literally can’t though. Like, I’m on a social media ban. Goddd, after that last live you don’t get how much shit I got.”

“I thought it was funny!” She says, and you smile. “Oh my god (Name), did you see her tweet after.”

“BYE.” you cover your face, laughing. A couple hours after the live, Paige had tweeted some sort of passive aggressive very targeted thing about how God has her back when people give her a hard time or something like that. You’d almost died when it showed on your TL.

“Have you seen all the edits comparing me n her.” You manage to get out between laughs. Sure, you didn’t have the spectacular reputation Paige did. The girl had started her college career stronger then literally everyone else, and she was top pick to begin with. Her return to the court was well anticipated, even by you.

Still despite that, you had a certain sparkle in game. You played flashy, but you could back it up. Your freshman year you were very much an underdog, a stark difference from Paige, but your sophomore year had been very different, and this year as a junior you were getting recognition that almost gave you whiplash. Your talent was undoubted.

“I think both of you guys are being extra careful on socials now.” Elaine says. “I mean Paige is pretty active, but when they go live the minute your name is brought up, which it always is, she like…mysteriously disappears from view. It’s actually funny.”

“Whatever.” You say, taking a swig of your drink. “As funny as it is, I’m tired of all this shit, it’s unnecessary. Let’s forget about her.”

Elaine lets out a cough, before covering her face. “Pfft. Um, yeah. Let’s forget about it.”

“What….what is it?” You say, raising an eyebrow. Your friends eyes are stuck behind you. When you turn on the barstool as conspicuously as possible, you feel your stomach physically lurch.

“You’re fucking kidding.”

“We have great luck.” Elaine muffles a laugh.

You spin back towards her, talking through bared teeth. “You brought me to Storrs’s most popular bar on a Friday night…Storrs…fuck. That’s their campus? Seriously??!”

“Don’t be mad.” She sheepishly smiles. “I don’t pay that much attention to them…I didn’t think it through.”

“Boo, you whore. Even I know they’re like, bar-fiends.” You grumble, putting your head down. “God, just put your head down, cover me, something. I’m not tryna do this right now.”

Covering your eyes and keeping your back to the group, you ask. “How many of them are here. Tell me exactly who.”

“Umm, I don’t know all of them.” She says.

“Bitch just tell me…I swear to god.” You sneer, casually attempting to turn, discreetly letting your eyes graze the masses before they meet a pair of blue ones.

Shit.

Her eyes hold yours for a moment too long. Her hair is down instead of her signature ponytail and braids. She’s dressed casually, and posed confidently. Her expression is one of surprise…then amusement…and then something you can’t quite recognize. When her friends start to follow her gaze, you finally turn away.

“Elaine, I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

“Calm down, it’s fine. You always say you can handle the smoke, right?”

“Yeah when I’m in California I can…not when I’m in a UConn infested bar with Paige fucking Bueckers and her cult staring me down.”

“They’re really staring. Oh, KK just pointed at you.” Elaine says, looking at them obviously. You fix your posture and adjust your hair at this.

“Are they like…coming over?”

“Yep.” She murmurs under her breath, indicating they’re close.

“Umm, hey.” A voice says from behind you. It’s low, almost raspy. You remember it being way more strained and arrogant on the court. In the bar, it was almost attractive.

“Hey.” You say, as cool as possible. Turning to face Paige and her teammates usually wouldn’t have intimidated you, you could hold your ground and you were confident in yourself, but here? On their turf? With none of your own teammates? And a couple drinks in you? Your body was already tingling, and you were terrified you would say something to dig your hole deeper.

“Think I could get a picture?” Paige says. She sounds likes she’s severely forcing herself, arms crossed and drink already half empty despite just entering the bar. Azzi’s face breaks into an amused smirk beside her, and her other friends hang back with giggly expressions.

“A…picture?” You say, confused. The three of you stare at each other for an awkward moment before you break the silence. “Sorry…that was rude of me, my bad. I just wasn’t expecting that.” You laugh. “If you actually want a picture I can do that for you.”

“Thanks.” Paige smiles, but there’s no happiness behind it. When she poses by you, her hand just hovers above your waist. She can’t even bring herself to touch you. You give your best smile as Azzi takes the picture on Paige’s phone.

When she shows it to the two of you, you realize why Paige might’ve wanted that picture.

“You’re gonna really shock everyone when you post that.” You say, laughing. Paige’s face finally breaks to a more authentic smirk that sends shivers down your spine. It’s like the one she wore when you two were facing each other on the court. Proud, confident, ready for anything.

“Never let em’ know your next move.” She says, eyes piercing yours.

-

As the night goes on the bar gets more and more busy, you have to yell over the music for Elaine to hear you. You’re not exactly trying to talk to her though, because she’s mostly talking about Paige.

“You know she’s sort of a campus heart-throb right?”

“What??” You yell, although you’ve perfectly heard what she’s said.

“She’s. Hot. Maybe you should flirt with her a little.” Elaine says.

You just shake your head. “I’m gonna get another drink.”

Your luck is spectacular for the night, because there are no barstool seats left except one a little too close to Paige, who’s sitting alone and waiting for her drink. You silently curse, but are thankful her team isn’t there too. You sit by her as confidently as possible, avoiding her gaze.

She’s watching you indubitably, noting every move you make. Your posture as you sit, the Polaroid behind your clear phone case, the way your lips move when you ask the bartender for your favourite drink, these are all thinks she seemingly makes note of.

You can’t help but overhear her scoff at your drink choice, to which you finally turn and acknowledge her, raising your eyebrow.

“Out of everything you could’ve ordered you got that?” She says, haughty as ever.

“Not everyone is trying to get white-girl-wasted.” You respond curtly, eyeing her Dirty Shirley.

Paige scoffs. “You don’t talk as big as you do on your lives.”

Shrugging, you respond “Someone asked a question and I answered, simple as that.”

“Ion know bout that one.” She rolls her eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you’re just feining for people to talk bout you.”

This bitch. You internally think, brows furrowed at her statement. “Wouldn’t have even been brought up if you hadn’t let your fatass ego get in the way of your media training during that press conference.” You sneer. “Now that is feining for people to talk..”

“Someone asked a question and I answered.” She smiles, sending a hot flash of anger throughout your body. “Simple as that.”

“You think you’re so smart.” You grumble out, turning your head from her. The sheer arrogance is radiating from her body, it’s annoying you to no end.

“I am.” She says, as if it’s common knowledge. “Plus, I’m not the one who started twisting words. That was you, remember?”

When your drink is finally set in front of you, you make a point to get up from the stool and grab it, sending Paige a steely look. “Good talk, Bueckers.”

“Aye, wait a sec.”

You’re already walking away, taking a big gulp of your drink when she slides off of her stool and catches up, walking beside you. You don’t miss how her eyes flick to your mouth when you wipe it clean, facing her begrudgingly.

“Why’re you even here?” She asks. “Visiting yo girlfriend?”

“Who, Elaine?” You laugh, Elaine being the straightest girl you know. “Why’re you so interested?”

“Wasn’t expecting to see some California girl in Storrs. You sure you weren’t plotting on seeing me?” Paige grins, taking a step towards you. She’s taller then you, and the way she tilts her head downwards when she speaks gives you an unrecognizable feeling that you’re planning to blame on the alcohol.

“I got up close and personal with you once, and it was enough.” You smile, holding her stare. She chews on the straw of her Shirley, her expression both amused and something else.

“Ion think so.” She mumbles.

“You don’t have to think.” You respond, looking her up and down for a moment. It feels like an eternity passes as you two challenge each other, the air gets thicker by the minute and you finally break away from her, walking as confidently as you can, far from where she can see you.

-

You don’t see Paige again after that, presumably because her and her friends went elsewhere. Laying in a hotel room next to your teammates, you can’t help but think about the blonde and how odd your interaction was. She had this way of looking at you like she knew exactly what you were thinking, even though you knew damn well she knew nothing except for how you were on the court. Still, despite how her voice made your skin itch and her mannerisms induced the need for violence, there was something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

As if reading your mind, your phone began to vibrate uncontrollably. You check your notifications to see a sea of messages and a couple more alien ones on Instagram.

paigebueckers started following you.

paigebueckers tagged you in their story.

jujubballin sent you a story.

jujubballin sent you a message.

kenzie_4bs sent you a story.

kenzie_4bs sent you a message.

You accept Paige’s request and view her story, which features the picture of you and Paige. You sitting and her standing, her hand just hovering above your waist, her face a curt close-mouthed smile and yours wide and genuine. It’s an interesting photo which she’s captioned “Cali meets Connecticut!”

You scoff at her version of being witty, and immediately cringe at the sheer amount of traction the post has gotten already, with at least 50 people in your inbox within the first 15 minutes of the post coming out. The messages range from “The crossover we needed!!” To “Ik you wanted to punch her white-ass” and frankly it was all too much for you. Social media, Connecticut, the messages, Paige.

She seemed to be the main article of stress in your life the past couple weeks and it seemed to smart to keep a distance from her from this point onward.

The girl really knows how to induce that shock factor.

[junovrsmp4]

one of the girls

part 1. the arrangement

Chris Sturniolo was bad news. You knew it, every girl within a 100 mile radius knew it. Your own brother had warned you to stay away from him, despite being his best friend. That didn’t stop you from wanting him though.

pairing: chris x reader

pt.1 summary: despite all the warnings, and his reputation, you're intrigued by chris. on your 18th birthday, u find out exactly why he's bad news. and like a drug, u get addicted to him. cue, the arrangement

warnings: ABSOLUTE FILTH, very very plot heavy, rough sex, oral, choking, slapping, over-stimulation, mild bdsm, p in v, degradation, slight age gap (reader is 16 and chris is 18 when they first start fooling around, reader is 18 and chris is 20 when they first have penetrative sex)

word count: 6.9K (lmao i think this is going to be a thing)

author's note: so, i found out as i was writing this that @worldlxvlys has a fic with a very similar premise because its inspired by the same song, check it out if u havent already, its so fucking good

It had started out innocently enough.

Chris was your older brother’s best friend, so naturally he was always over at your house or your brother over at his. You remember the first time you’d seen him, sitting on your living room couch, dressed in a black t-shirt and denim shorts, sporting a silver chain. You’d just run down the stairs, yelling for your brother to order you some food when you spotted him. The shock of seeing a complete stranger- a hot one, at that- had you stopping dead in your tracks. You remember how you’d just stared at him like an idiot, before turning around and sprinting back up to your room. You cringe a little, every time you think back to that moment, how you’d been dressed that night, in one of your old sports bras and baggy shorts, your hair an absolute mess.

Awkward first meeting aside, you got to know him, little by little. Sometimes, through little anecdotes reluctantly shared by your brother at your behest, and sometimes, from the man himself. Every time he came over, you’d make excuses to be around him and your brother, and you remember how he’d always smile at you, include you in conversations even when your brother would groan on about how annoying you were being and try to push you back to your room.

So of course, you developed a crush on him.

As a thirteen year old, you would make up cute little scenarios in your head of how you might confess your crush to Chris, and maybe he’d tell you he always liked you too, or maybe, maybe he’d be the one to confess first, with a bashful, awkward smile, and you’d become boyfriend and girlfriend and live happily ever after.

It didn’t take long for you to get over your little fantasies though.

While it hadn’t been obvious to you at thirteen, as you grew older, you witnessed the whirlwind that was Chris Sturniolo, the guy who got every girl’s attention, showed them a good time, and then left them in the dust when he got bored, before moving onto the next.

Your brother, bless his soul, did warn you to stay away from Chris. Had tried multiple times, to tell you how much of a player he was, how he just had a rotation of girls ready to go, and was always looking for someone new to ruin.

“He’s no good,” he’d said. “He’s my best friend, and he’s like a brother to me, but I wouldn’t trust him around you, alone.”

“Why are you friends with someone like that then?” you’d asked.

Your brother hadn’t been able to give you an answer then.

Knowing what you did about Chris didn’t get rid of your interest in him though. You’d long since let go of the silly fantasy of being his girlfriend. It had been a childhood delusion and nothing more, but you still found him…intriguing. The way he commanded every room he walked in, the way every girl around him fell to their knees to be able to service him in some way, the way guys hung around him in hopes of having his appeal somehow rub off on them, it fascinated you.

Even more fascinating was how Chris seemed to be so obviously putting up some sort of front. There was an edge to the cool, suave persona he seemed to be parading in for everyone else.

For every person who told you to stay far, far away from Chris, all they did was stoke the little part of you that wanted to see just what he was really like.

Besides, we all know what they say about curious cats; curiosity may kill them, but satisfaction definitely brings them back.

-------------------------------------

The party was already in full swing by the time you’d made it through the front door. The entire house was lit with flashing lights, bright and blinding, the music so loud it seemed like it almost thrummed straight through the bodies that surrounded you, almost consuming you and swallowing you into the heart of the party.

A party to celebrate the end of an era, and you turning eighteen.

You hadn’t wanted anything crazy, but trust your friends to go behind your back to plan something big.

“It isn’t just your birthday, ya know?” they’d said. “We’re finally done with high school!”

It seemed like they’d invited everyone who was anyone in your town, because you don’t even recognize some of the people at the party. Friends of friends of friends, and so on, you guess. Some were your seniors in high school, who had graduated way before you and your friends. It helped that your birthday and graduation coincided with summer break, because it meant a lot of the older kids were back from college for the holidays, which guaranteed the presence of more…discreet party favors.

The air was thick with smoke, from weed, tobacco, and god knows what else, the humidity only amplifying the feeling of breathlessness you feel every time you’re in a big crowd. You spot your brother and his group of friends huddled together, taking up a section of one of the big couches, all of them nursing beer bottles. All except one.

Chris’ eyes are on you the minute you step through the crowd. Unlike all the other guys sitting beside him, he opted out of drinking, and was instead smoking a joint, plumes of smoke slightly obscuring his face. He looked relaxed, leaned back with one arm stretched over the top of the couch, legs spread out. His eyes scan you from head to toe, and you see the way he glides his tongue across his bottom lip before biting into it. Your breath catches in your throat when he slightly shifts his hips, his eyes flitting down and then back up at you, like he’s silently asking you to go sit on his lap. You almost go over to him, slightly swaying on your feet, before you remember where you are and who’s sitting right next to him. You stand there long enough to see some other girl swoop in and plant herself on his thigh, looping her arms around his neck and leaning close to whisper in his ear.

Your brother spots you just then, and you make a show of pointing a thumb at Chris and rolling your eyes, like you’re not desperately wishing it was you that was on Chris’ lap, before making your way to the make-shift drink station that had been set up on the dinner table, where you find Matt fixing drinks for his friends and himself.

“Hey kid,” he drawls out, bobbing his head to the music, and swaying slightly as he pours drinks for the people around him. “Happy birthday!”

His outburst has everyone nearby yelling out their own wishes, and you thank everyone, accepting side hugs and shoulder pats from a bunch of them. One of them even comments on your outfit, telling you that you looked sexy and asking if you wanted to ‘hang out’ with him for a bit, with a waggle of his eyebrows.

You look down at yourself, flattening your palms over the black mini skirt you were wearing, the length, obscenely short. You’d paired it with a black bralette, a cropped mesh top with a watercolor wine print and platform ankle boots. Your friends had helped you with your hair and makeup, and you knew you looked really fucking sexy, if you did say so yourself.

You yell out a quick thanks but decline the offer to hang out, before asking the Matt to pour you a drink. You can still feel Chris staring, but you don’t dare look back, because looking back would mean giving in to him. Not yet.

You had a game to play after all.

-------------------------------------

Funnily enough, the game between you and Chris had started with a literal game. Specifically, his last lacrosse game for Sommerville High.

You usually didn’t care to go to school events, especially to watch a bunch of people play a sport that you didn’t understand, but it was also your brother’s last game that he’d be playing for your high school, so you’d gone to show your support. Your parents had been there too, and they’d taken a seat next to Chris’ family.

“Oh, this is such a bittersweet moment, isn’t it?” you hear Mary Lou ask your mom, who nods solemnly. They strike up a conversation about their kids, how they grow up oh so fast. It’s funny watching them lean over to talk to each other while Nick sits between them, looking bored out of his mind.

He catches your eye and breaks out into a grin, before politely asking your mom if she’d like to switch seats with him, which she excitedly accepts.

“Never thought I’d see you at one of these,” Nick comments as he looks down at the field, eyes searching for his brothers, you assume. “Want some?”

He’s got a bag of popcorn that he tips your way, and you thank him before grabbing a handful. You make idle conversation for a while, mostly about how he, his brothers and your brother would be graduating soon, and about your classes. You avoid the topic of the triplets ever-growing YouTube channel; you don’t need Nick knowing you obsessively watch every video of theirs.

Nick was a welcome presence; where his brother Chris managed to put you on edge and make you feel hyperaware of his presence, Nick was comforting, grounding.

As disinterested as you are in sports, the energy of the field gets to you eventually, your eyes tracking the same three players, 3, 4, 15, Chris, Matt, your brother, over and over, while listening to Nick chime in occasionally about the score. You have enough awareness to pick up on the energy of the crowd, and it looked like the Sommerville players were doing really fucking well. You watch your brother and Matt make a couple of saves, and Chris going full offense by scoring a bunch of points for the team, all while clutching onto Nick as the two of you cheer each time.

It’s down to the last few minutes of the game, and you watch with bated breath as both teams turn the ball over to score a point or stop the other from scoring.

“Wait, what’s going on?” you ask Nick. With only two minutes left, you notice all the players running to the edge of the field and forming team huddles.

“Timeout,” Nick says before taking a sip of his drink. “Coaches probably want to discuss final strategies with the team, but it won’t make much of a difference at this point. We’re winning this thing!”

“Oh, I see…” you mutter, and your eyes gravitate towards player number 3. You can’t see much of Chris’s face from this distance, but you watch as he swings an arm over your brother’s shoulder. His head tips upward slightly, and for a second, you almost feel like he’s looking right up at you, but that would be crazy.

The game is back on, and you watch as your brother immediately springs into action, trying to get the ball that one of the players on the rival team had managed to grab. A shrill whistle blows, and Nick winces beside you.

“Shit- what’s wrong?”

“Your brother just got a foul, kid,” Nick says with a shake of his head. “He was playing really well though, damn.”

One last minute. You watch as the Sommerville team expertly passes the ball around, going back and forth between a bunch of the guys as the other team tries to bat it from them. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath when you see Chris has the ball now, and with just a few seconds left on the clock, he makes the last score of the game, and the crowd goes fucking wild.

Everything else was a blur after. You remember being ushered onto the field by Nick, your parents joining you as the players all took pictures together, as a team, with their families. You remember seeing Chris’ eyes widen as he took in your presence, before quickly flashing you his signature smirk.

“Look who decided to finally show up for a school game!” he’d said, arms cross over his chest, and you’d remember feeling small under his gaze, holding onto to Nick’s arm to hold back from flinging yourself at him in front of all these people, in front of your family.

The next few minutes had been spent taking pictures, and there was a particular moment when both your mother and Mary Lou had asked for a big group photo, and that’s how you found yourself pressed up between Chris and your brother, who had his arm slung over your shoulder. You still remember the way Chris’ fingers brushed against yours, your breath catching in your throat when, in an extremely bold move, considering you were with your families, he’d linked his pinky with yours.

That’s how it had started. Looks exchanged across rooms, stolen touches hidden from everyone else’s eyes. A pull and push, a game of who’d break first. It was like something that emboldened Chris that day of the game, and he’d test the limits to what you’d allow him to do to you. The goal for him seemed to be to get you to let down the invisible guard you’d put up whenever he was around, to get you to admit something even you weren’t aware of. Your goal was to get your fill of Chris in hopes of satiating whatever curiosity and hunger you had for him before you had to watch him with some other girl as soon as he got bored with you.

There were nights after that game when he’d come over to your house to hang out with your brother when Chris would sneak into your room, under the pretense of going to the bathroom or to grab a snack.

It was during those nights that you’d exchange rushed, heated kisses, Chris grabbing onto your waist while you clutched at his shoulders, pulling him close before quickly pushing him away, breathless. He’d swipe his tongue across his bottom lip before sinking his teeth into it, fighting back the grin that threatened to take over his face.

“Go out with me,” Chris had asked one night, leaning against your dresser and fiddling with the rings you’d left there from earlier that day.

“No, Chris,” you had replied, already back to reading the book he’d pushed out of the way when he’d crawled over you to kiss you. You tried to ignore the way your lips feel swollen and bruised from where he’d bitten them.

“I don't know why you’re playing so hard to get,” he said with her arms crossed over this chest, his lips quirked up in his signature smirk. “You clearly want me- why not date me?”

You can't help but let out a chuckle at that.

“What?”

“Everyone and their mother knows you’re not the dating kind, Chris” you said, with a tight smile. “You’re going to bail the minute it gets too real, before going with one of the other girls in your roster.”

The silence that follows makes you look up from your book, and Chris is watching you with a look you can’t comprehend.

“Touché. So you’re good with being one of my girls then? I just don’t want you to come crying to me later saying you were hoping I’d be your boyfriend or some shit.”

You roll your eyes, hating the way his words made you feel. It was pathetic, chasing after crumbs, knowing you wouldn’t get anything more. You knew what you were getting into, and you weren’t expecting anything more. but it still made you feel like a fool.

“By the way,” Chris begins to speak, arms crossed tightly across his chest, his shoulders stiff. “The only reason I bail-” he says the word with a harsh tone you’d never heard from him before, “-is because all of you seem to have already set your minds on being with me for one thing, and one thing only. Not that I’m too mad about it.”

He’s scowling now, and you see the muscles in his jaw flex, like he’s gritting his teeth. He was definitely mad, about what exactly, you weren’t so sure.

“What do you mean?” you’d asked, but Chris was already walking out of your room.

You’d spent the rest of the night wondering what had gotten Chris angry. There was a part of you, the one that really, really enjoyed Chris’ attention, that was worried you’d pushed him away, but a bigger part of you wondered if this was for the best. You’d gotten more than you’d ever imagined from him, and it was probably best to leave it at this before you ended up getting swept up in…him.

It didn't matter in the end, because that same night, after making a show of leaving out the front door to go back home, he’d snuck back into your room through your window and spent an hour leaving harsh kisses and bites on your lips, your neck and your collarbones.

He was clearly taking out his frustration from earlier on you, his fingers gripping at your waist and thighs as he pressed your body down onto your bed with this own.

He took, and took. Took your breath away with his kisses, took your wrists in his hands, grip tight as he held them down on either side of your head, all while laying claim on you and your body. Just like you wanted him to.

Realizations were made that night, because as soon as Chris had gotten his fill and left, you’d made yourself cum, over and over, as you imagined him being rougher with you, laying his claim on you with harsher, more painful touches to your body.

-------------------------------------

Parties like these really weren’t your scene, but you did enjoy being a fly on the wall, observing all the people around. Drunk teens and young adults giving into more baser instincts, their judgement clouded by the various substances they’d consumed. Some were loud and brazen, engaging in risqué activities right where everyone could see them, some hidden in dark corners, making out with each other.

You’re still nursing your first drink, letting it pull you into a tipsy haze, and you vaguely register the guy standing beside you talking about something you had absolutely no interest in. He’s got one arm against the wall as he leans into your personal space, his lips close to your ear as he speaks, to make sure you can hear him over the loud music. You let out noncommittal hums and nod occasionally to seem like you’re listening, but your eyes are trained on Chris and the girl who’s currently sitting on his lap, a different girl from the one you saw when you first walked in, grinding down on him.

Just as Chris turns his head in your direction, you turn your head towards the guy next to you, bringing your free hand to his and pulling it to rest on your waist. You smile up at him and laugh at a joke he’d just made, something incredibly unfunny and slightly problematic even, before telling him you were going to go grab another drink.

You head into the kitchen, where you get pulled into a conversation with a couple of your former classmates. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Chris slip into the kitchen as well, before he squeezes past you. What no one sees is the way his hand lingers on your lower back as he moves past, dipping low to grab your ass, before quickly moving to the group of people that were also in the room, slinging his arms over the shoulders of two guys before delving into a loud discussion about this seasons lacrosse game.

Heat blooms across your face, and you bite your lower lip to keep from shouting across the kitchen at Chris to just fuck you already, because that wasn’t the plan. You had to have more control than that now, because this was the only time you’d have it tonight.

Your mind wanders back to the several texts you’d exchanged with Chris over the years, after you’d first started your…dalliance with him. They were sparse, you mostly kept your conversations minimal over text, but there had been one night last year, when you hadn’t been able to sleep and had found yourself sending the one text you thought you’d never send to Chris.

> i need something

You’d immediately regretted it. You thought you’d worded it in such a way that you could pass it off, pretend it didn’t happen, or that it was meant for someone else, but you knew Chris would be able to tell exactly what you meant. He would be able to figure out everything you’d thought of him since the past year, every dirty thought, every horny fantasy you’ve had since you first started letting him kiss and touch you, only ever with your clothes on, nothing that progressed past heavily making out and groping each other, leaving you panting and breathless, and him hard.

It was 2 a.m. on a Thursday night and your text could only mean one thing.

You’d put your phone down, trying to go to sleep, hoping that, come morning, if Chris did reply to you, you could pretend you had sent it by mistake, but the anxiousness you felt made you pick your phone back up, and you saw it, the three dots that meant Chris was typing a response.

> U need to go to sleep

That would have been the responsible thing to do. You imagined being bolder, but you were only sixteen, and you had no experience flirting with guys, especially with guys like Chris, so you’d sent off a quick text apologizing, and telling him it was meant for someone else.

> Is that true? Who was it meant for?

> goodnight chris

> Tell me who

> no

> Need is a strong word, almost sounded like u wanted some late night lovin’

You don’t think, you couldn’t think, not with the way your blood rushing in your ears makes you feel slightly faint, and before you know it, you reply with-

> well i feel strongly about it

> Strong feelings can be dangerous

> i want something dangerous

You were being honest. Chris was dangerous. This was dangerous.

> Want? Or need?

> need

There was a long pause, no ellipses indicating Chris was texting back, and for a moment, you think he’d abandoned you, that he was probably texting the many other, more experienced, girls he could be with.

> Dont fall asleep yet. I’ll be there in a bit.

> okay

> So the text WAS meant for me then

> shut up

> :P

The abrupt shift in tone of the conversation had made you giggle a bit, but you remember how you’d waited with bated breath for Chris to show up outside your window, before letting him into your room.

Chris had spent those early morning hours teasing you with his mouth and hands, whispering dirty little things into your ears, coaxing your needs out of you, demanding you tell him exactly what you meant with that text, with one hand wrapped around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you feel breathless but not take away your ability to breathe, because you told him you wanted it, while the other one dipped down into your underwear.

You’re so fucking responsive, even to the slightest touch, he’d said. Everyone thinks you’re such a good girl, but here you are, sneaking around with your brother’s best friend, what would everyone think?

You’d let your body melt under his touch, letting him envelope you with his touch, his words, his scent.

I think about how you’d look with my cock inside you. I think about tasting you. I think about holding you down and fucking you until you can’t hold back your sweet little moans. God, you’re so fucking desperate for my dick, aren’t you?

And you were, you really fucking were, because no matter how much you pretended to be unfazed by him and his touch, the truth of the matter was, every moment you spent with him was followed by you locked up in your room with your fingers desperately pumping in and out of you, imagining how he would fuck you if you actually let him, how he’d open you up and push his dick into you, how you’d be so full of him.

That was the first night he’d touched you, really touched you, the first night you’d cum from fingers that weren’t your own.

A loud laugh accompanied by a friendly slap on the shoulder pulls you out of your thoughts, and you let out a weak chuckle as your friends remark on how out of it you seem, even though you’ve only had one drink. You look up to see Chris looking back at you over his shoulder, and when you meet his eyes, he jerks his head up slightly, and you know exactly what he’s trying to indicate.

Come upstairs.

Your eyes widen and you shake your head as imperceptibly as you can, even though you’re going to do exactly what he wanted, and you see how it gets him excited, because Chris liked being teased, liked how you played so hard to get, and you loved playing it up, acting all coy and innocent when both of you knew otherwise.

You tell your friends you need some fresh air, but instead of making your way out to the backyard, you slowly make your way upstairs, pushing past people and hoping to all powers above that there was at least one room that wasn’t occupied.

You take your time checking every room on the floor, opening doors to people in various stages of undress, quickly yelling out apologies before moving to the next, until finally, you come to a door furthest from the stairs leading up to the floor. It was quieter here, the music from downstairs was almost muffled. You press an ear to the door, and when you don’t hear any noises from the other side, you excitedly turn the handle to open the door, but it doesn’t budge.

Locked. Fuck.

Just as you’re about to turn away, you feel a presence right behind you, the heat of a body. The strong scent of weed washes over you as hands come up to rest on your hips, before warm lips brush over the shell of your ear.

“Look what we have here,” Chris whispers in a teasing tone, sending a tingle up your spine, making your skin break out in goosebumps. You shiver slightly as his arms encircle you, before he rests his chin on your shoulder, looking down at the door knob.

“It’s locked,” you whisper back, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearms.

“I know,” he mumbles, before holding out one of his hands, and you see a set of keys.

“Go on,” Chris says, nuzzling into your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your burning hot skin. You quickly grab the keys and fumble with the lock as Chris’ hands wander down between your thighs, grabbing onto them as he presses into you from behind. You feel his length, not hard yet, but still hard to ignore, and the possibilities of how tonight is going to go has your head reeling.

You finally get the door open, and you stumble inside, Chris not far behind. You watch as he grabs the key out of the lock, before following you in and locking the door from inside this time.

You have half the mind to ask him how he got the keys to the door, how he thought of keeping it locked, but all that goes out of your head when he swivels you around and pushes you up against the wall, one hand cradling your head as his lips descend on yours. His fingers grip the hair at the base of your neck and pull, making your head tip back and you gasp as both pain and pleasure bloom and settle low in your stomach, your thighs clenching, and he takes that as invitation to lick his way into your mouth, his tongue fighting and very quickly winning for dominance. Your knees almost buckle from the intensity of it all, from just how turned on you are.

Here you were, with Chris Sturniolo, your brother’s best friend, pulling at your hair, grabbing you so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your hips and thighs by morning. It was a heady feeling, being wanted, and being wanted by Chris was like experiencing the best high from the best drugs.

Chris lets go of your hair to grab onto your hips, pulling your waist away from the wall and grinding you against him, like you were just here to help him get off, and it still surprises you, how much it turns you on. The thought of being just a body to be used, a body that Chris owns and controls.

Your hands find purchase in his hair as you gasp under the assault of his mouth on yours, his teeth biting into your lower lip and pulling, before going back to twisting his tongue with yours. It’s a messy kiss, rough and just painful enough that it has you wet and dripping. You feel the way your underwear sticks to your folds, and the patheticness of your own arousal turns you on even more.

Chris’s hands snake up your stomach under your top, making it bunch up right below your neck. His gaze is heated as his eyes rove over your body, before he’s pulling your bralette down, and the fabric of it bunches up tight below your breasts, pushing them up further into Chris’ face. He takes no time before licking and sucking on your nipples, groaning as he grinds his growing erection against your thigh.

“Chris- please, please-” you whine, body writhing under his attention, hips bucking as you try and find some relief.

“Stay still,” Chris says, and it almost sounds like a growl, which has the opposite effect to what was intended. Your moans get louder and he bites your nipple, your chest arching off the wall.

Chris straightens up, one of his hands coming up to smack you on the cheek before grabbing you by the chin, forcing your head back against the wall.

“Stay. Still.”

The slap had been more shocking than painful, but it still turns you on, just how rough Chris is being with you right now, and you think about how much rougher you hope it gets.

Chris peers down at you, his grip on your chin relentless. “Will you stay still and quiet?”

You nod against his grip, teeth sinking into your lower lip to hold back a whine.

“Good girl,” he says, thumb stroking your lips before pushing into your mouth. You instantly wrap your lips around it, tongue laving at the tip of it before sucking it deeper into your mouth. You see Chris’ pupils dilate as he watches you, mouth falling open slightly as he heaves deep breaths in and out.

“Take off your panties,” he says as he pulls his thumb away, swiping it over your nipple. He chuckles as you jerk away from the cold, wet touch. His fingers flutter over your skin as you quickly shove your underwear down your legs, and you think about kicking them away, but Chris holds out his hand.

Oh.

You hand over your underwear, soaked from your arousal, to Chris, who pockets it with a smirk.

“Hm, good girl,” Chris mutters, before patting the side of your leg. “Spread your legs.”

You peer up at him through your eyelashes as you spread your legs apart and the cold air in the room hits your heated core, making you quiver.

Chris doesn’t take his time. His body presses up against you as he brings a hand up your skirt and to your core, two fingers sweeping through your folds to gather the wetness that was dripping out of you before pumping them in and out of you, each thrust of his fingers punching a gasp out of you.

The room fills with the wet, obscene sounds of Chris’ fingers squelching in and out of you, and he adds a third finger, twisting and spreading them inside you to stretch you out.

“Fuck, Chris, I need you-” you moan, your hips rolling and pushing down to meet Chris’ fingers. You bare your throat to him as he presses his nose to the spot under your ear, his teeth scraping down your throat. His fingers continue pumping into you, pressing repeatedly at the spongy bundle of nerves that had you clenching around them, and that’s how he gives you your first orgasm of the night.

“You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you?” Chris asks, nipping at your jaw. “Look at how fucking wet you are.”

He steps back and holds up his fingers, glistening from the wetness, and spreads them apart, and you see the strings of your fluids clinging between his fingers, some of it dripping down onto his palm. Your breath catches in your throat when Chris brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them and moaning at your taste. He’d done this before, when he’d fingered you, and it made you squirm each time, seeing this visual confirmation that he enjoyed your taste.

Your eyes flick down to Chris’ crotch, where you see the clear outline of his hard dick, and you realize that this is the first time you’re actually going to have a dick inside you. You remember the first time you’d seen it when you’d asked him if you could suck him off, and he’d had you kneel for him, before pulling it out of his sweatpants and feeding it into your mouth, guiding your head up and down his length, before he’d eventually just jerked off and cum all over your face.

You watch him as he pulls it out now, and you can’t explain how oddly attractive his penis is. You didn’t think you’d find a penis attractive, but Chris’ was. It was long and thick, but not too thick, and it curved slightly to the left. It was ruddy now, from all the blood that had rushed down to it and the head of his dick glistened from the precum that was beading and dripping out of his slit. Chris wraps his hand around it, stroking it slowly to gather his precum and slick it up.

You make a move to step towards him, thinking he’ll move things to the bed, but Chris grabs your hips and turns you to face the wall before lining his body against yours, pushing you into the wall, with your face turned sideways, your cheek pressed down against the cold surface. You hear the telltale sounds of a condom wrapper being torn open and rubber being stretched over skin.

You look back at Chris, eyebrows furrowing, as he hikes your skirt up your ass, lining his cock up against you and grinding it between your cheeks.

“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” Chris whispers in your ear, his hand coming up to circle your throat, pushing up to tip your head against his shoulder. You feel his other hand reach down between the two of you, before guiding his dick into you, and your eyes flutter close when the tip slides through your folds to push into you, stretching you. Chris keeps his grip on your throat tight, and braces his other arm against the wall right beside your head.

Your body opens up for him, accepting him into you, as Chris sets a brutal pace, his dick driving in and out of you, leaving you breathless.

“Chris- oh god, f-fuck, ngh-” you whimper, your hands scrambling to grab onto him, one hand clutching at his bicep, while the other comes up to grip the wrist of the hand that is squeezing your throat. “Harder, please- fuck, fuck, fuck- choke me harder-”

“Such a fucking slut, what would everyone think if they knew you were up here begging me to choke you, huh?” Chris rasps out against your temple. “What would your brother think?”

You clench around him, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he continues restricting your airflow, arousal and shame making your blood run hot in equal measure.

“You love being split open on my cock, don’t ya? Your pussy is fucking dripping around it,” he grunts, punctuating his words with harder thrusts into you, the head of his dick hitting the bundle of nerves that has you seeing stars.

“Yes, yes, yes-” you chant, legs quivering as you gush around Chris’ dick. “I’m gonna cum-”

“Yeah? Cum on my dick, c’mon,” Chris rasps, the hand that was braced against the wall moving to rub against your clit, making you buck up against him. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight still.”

His fingers rub furious circles over your clit, which has you clenching rhythmically around him, and it doesn’t take long before you cum around Chris’ cock, the force of your orgasm wracking through your body and making you quiver violently.

Chris keeps thrusting into you, chasing his own orgasm, and you’re hit with that thought again, of being owned and controlled by Chris, because it was the truth, wasn’t it? He hadn’t even bothered to get either of you fully undressed, hadn’t taken you to bed, because you were just a means to a satisfying end, a warm body that accepted his rough, painful, attention.

And you loved it.

All you hear are the sounds of skin slapping skin and Chris’ grunts and moans over your own punched out whimpers, and now Chris has both his hands on your hips, gripping them hard as he pulls you back onto his dick, his blunt nails digging into your skin and leaving a delicious burn. You don’t know how long it lasts, but eventually Chris comes with a muffled cry, biting into your clothed shoulder as he fills the condom.

“Fuck,” you breath out, slumping forward against the wall, wincing when Chris pulls out, before bringing two fingers up to glide through your folds, still wet, but now also puffy and raw from the constant rubbing.

Chris guides you towards the bed, and you hold onto him because your legs won’t stop shaking. He helps you fix your clothes, pulling your bralette and top back down your torso and smoothing your skirt down your thighs. He tucks his dick back into his pants before disappearing out of the room with the used, and now tied-up, condom in hand.

You sit on the edge of the bed, dazed and out of breath still, and Chris comes back a few seconds later with a wet towel which he gently swipes between your legs, while kneeling before you, letting out a chuckle and a sheepish ‘sorry’ when you wince and jerk away from the cold and rough towel.

Chris stands back up, and goes to say something when his phone buzzes. He looks down at it, letting out a low whistle at whatever message he’d just received.

“I’ve gotta go,” Chris says, his thumbs flying over his keyboard as he types out messages.

“One of your girls?”

“Huh? Yeah,” Chris says distractedly, before tucking his phone into his pocket. “You going to be okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“Alright, happy birthday again” Chris says, bending forward to place a quick kiss to your cheek before patting the top of your head and leaving.

You flopped back onto the bed, sighing as you push your hair out of your face, your legs rubbing together to try and warm yourself up in the now too-cold room. And it was only then that you realize that Chris had left with your underwear.

Fuck.

> you have my underwear asshole

His reply came much later that night, after you’d already gotten home, using a pair of cycling shorts you’d snagged from the closet in the room Chris had left you in and bunching them up under your skirt to make do as underwear for the rest of the night.

> Oops

author’s note: idek if i like this one y'all (: likes, comments and reblogs r much appreciated <3

taglist 🩵 (comment on my pinned post to be added or removed):

@luverboychris @bigbeefybitch @liz-stxrn @slut4chriss @slut4mattsturnio1o @sturniolosgirl @coochiedestroyer1 @cutiepiess4l @kvtie44 @vschrissturn @hercigaretteblush @fwskullz @m4rriii @anabanana28 @sturniolosange1 @webbersturn @odeezier @johnniesrealwife @freshsturns @marlenafortuna @carolineheartsmatthew @incndescentglow @starniolosposts @urfavgirllyyyyy @mattsturniolosworld @lilyloveschris @sturniozo @lookingformyromeo @heartss4matthewq @lanasturniolo @zina25sworld @ezziewinchester @s-s-842 @sturnlova @whyarefictionalmennotreal @55sturn @cheetahmadi @sturniolowhore @cupidsword @sturnsblog @lovehoneygirll @breeloveschris @littlemisswhore @worldlxvlys @sturniolo04 @sturnioloco @littlemisswhore @pandacake128 @chrizznmetswife

[samkerrworshipper]

My Masterlist

WIPS

Leah Williamson -

seeing her tonight, it's a bad idea right?

just some friends with benefits smut that’s ends with confessions of love

medication

r stops taking their anxiety medications during the euros finals to get rid of three side effects… but what happens when it seriously effects them on the pitch

let me love you

r struggles after her and leah break up after some drunken kisses with other people… can they mend it all before r’s health is seriously affected?

the call up

when r gets the news notification from the Spanish federation regarding the forced call up the espwnt

safe and sound

r having suicidal thoughts and leah just being there to support them and be there for them

playgirl

friends to lovers smut w cocky as fuck playgirl leah who secretly only has eyes on r

losing

what happens when r loses for the first time?

asthma attacks

what happens when r has a asthma attack whilst Leah’s out for the night?

i will wait for you.

r gets injured in the champions league final and finds herself pushing out everyone, is it to late to make up with the people that matter most?

lost cause

r doesn’t want to do life anymore… leah’s there to make it all better and let her know how loved she is

tourniquet

r struggles with self harm and Leah helps her with it in theee different examples

pain, sweet, pain.

leah’s return from her acl injury is nothing like what she wanted nor expected, but her team are there to help her up when she’s down.

scars and all

leah finds out about her girlfriends past mental health issues

beautiful girl series (leah + jordan as coparents)

part 1 -> close you’re eyes: leah and jordan’s daughter is struggling after their breakup

part 2 -> have no fear: jordan and r have a heart to heart and somethings are revealed

part 3 -> the monsters gone: leah confronts her daughter

part 4 -> she’s on the run: r runs away

part 5 -> and your moms are here: reconciliation

part 6 -> beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful girl: final part

Lucy Bronze -

mamacita

jersey smut with lucy after winning

daddy?…. sorry

just a little drabble about dom daddy lucy

a shoulder to cry on

lucy is there for r after she has a career shattering injury

euro champs and abs

lucy’s prize for winning the euros

leg shakes and body aches pt.2^

after care for the fic above

epiphany

random grief drabble - more r focused then lucy tbh but if u want a good cry then readdd

Alexia Putellas -

movie night

cheek voyeurism smut with r and alexia at team movie night

lap dance

stripper smut with Alexia after the world cup

on the sidelines

wag Alexia on the sidelines for wnba girlfriend

i remember everything

r struggles with eating disorder… alexis is to absorbed in her own life to notice.. what are th consequences?

the party

songfic based off the song the party & the after party by the weeknd… pure filthy smut

exile

songfic based off the song exile by taylor swift

the last time (pt.2^)

Alexia tries to apologise to r after what happened at the club… another songfic based off the song the last time by taylor swift

between thighs

just a little quickie fic

back between villages

alexia tears her acl.

sugar, baby

u have a little arrangement with la reina

bar-ca

babyfic with newborn alexia and r as parents

rockin’ around the christmas tree

fluffy kidfic with christmas with the putellas’ family

underneath the surface

alexia finds out about your endometriosis

Sam Kerr -

cock blocked

team night with the arsenal girls who r keeping you from being thoroughly fucked by your girlfriend

smut headcanons

just smutty dom headcanons with sammy k

a whore’s punishment

literal smutty porn without plot… that’s it.

concealed

little drabble about sam concealing a strap during a photo shoot

the phone call

based off the scene in the uswnt doc with the different call ups except sam x reader coded

acls

based off sam’s acl injury :(

Katie Mccabe -

nails

katie comes home from ireland camp with a new set of nails and she shows you just how much she can do even without using her hands or

Mapi Leon -

massage therapy

mapi gets injured… reader tries to resolve some of the tension in her body

warmed

cockwarming… that’s about it

las 15

based off of the spanish players boycott pre world cup

Alexia Putellas x Reader x Lucy Bronze -

twos a company, threes a crowd

| pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.4 |

pure filth between my three girlies

Leah Williamson x reader x Lia Wälti -

all yours

just a little friends to lovers angsty fic about lia and leah getting together when the three have always been best friends and r struggling with it

Mapi Leon x Reader x Ingrid Engen -

long distance

touch starved and anxious reader who’s been away from mapi and ingrid for a while and needs a reminder just how much the love her

Vivianne Miedema x Beth Mead -

bad days

Viv has a bad anxiety day… Beth’s there for her no matter what

Kristie Mewis x Sam Kerr -

pinky promise?

little anxiety fic about kristie stressing about meeting Sam’s parents for the first time

wet dream

kristie can’t sleep.. sam has a wet dream..

Lia Wälti x Alexia Putellas -

captains connection

sometiems the captains are the ones who need the most help after games..

auswnt -

togetherness

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3

just some tillies angst and fluff

arsenal women -

found family

r goes out in the snow and gets really sick, but is scared to bother their arsenal teammates, two captains show up at their door after them not showing up to training for a few days and help them out and show them just how much the team loves them

homework help

when r moves to england she struggles with the adjustment of new school… arsenal team are there for her though

sticker chart

r and kyra r the pranksters of the team… but what happens when they take it too far and the arsenal parents seperate them as a result

revival

arsenal reader has been struggling more than she’d ever admit.. when it becomes to much she attempts to take her life but her teammates refuse to let her kill herself when she has so much more to live for.

hard times

arsenal reader struggles with PTSD and new year’s eve is a particular struggle… but the arsenal girlies are there for her even if she doesn’t know she needs them

narcotics

reader has a drug problem.. her arsenal teammates help her to realise and overcome it

how did it end?

suicidal ex-arsenal reader who retired after leaving the club

barca women -

suffer in silence

r struggles with self harm after the problems with the spanish federation.. mapi, ingrid, lucy and alexia are there to pick up the broken pieces

exhausted

insomnia reader with concerned alexia

initiation orgy universe

initiation:

pt.1 -> pt.2 -> pt.3

celebrations:

pt.1 -> pt.2 -> pt.3

[suna-cerely-yours]

I wanna get him back ( wanna make him really jealous, wanna make him feel bad!) - ft g. suguru

a/n: listen, i love satoru- it might not seem like it, but i really do, he'd be the best bf ever.

warnings: minors do not interact, afab! reader, reader is called a slut, girlfriend, public sex, implied noncon voyeurism

songs: get him back! - olivia rodrigo, one of your girls- the weeknd, wine pon you- doja cat (i highly recommend you listen in this order)

"He's such a fucking asshole, I'm going to kill-", your words are cut off by your friend pressing a shot glass to your lips. "Woah, girlfriend- calm it, you broke up with him, remember?"

Taking the shot glass from her, you bite on the salt-lined rim, eyes still fixed on a certain white-haired menace leaning against the bar across the dance floor, clearly flirting with the petite blonde in front of him.

"We've been broken up for a month, a month! Who the hell moves on that quickly? "

Your friend pats your back sympathetically, giving your other friend a wide-eyed look behind your back. "Well, he wasn't the most dedicated boyfriend around y'know? Fuck him, honestly- don't let this ruin your night!"

Furrowing your brow, your press your lips together momentarily, tasting the grains of salt stuck to your lipgloss, before downing the shot. Slamming the glass down on the table, you straighten- adjusting the straps of your low-cut dress.

"I wanna get him back," you announce- not noticing your friend tip her head back and exhale frustratingly, while the one seated across from the both you hides a laugh behind her glass.

"As in get revenge," you clarify, "By hate fucking him. And maybe keying his stupid car."

"Not this again, let him go already! The only good thing about him was his height, anyway- didn't you say he had a temper, and and- in bed! he's a selfish lover right- don't do this-"

Her words fall on deaf ears as you get up and exit the booth, raising your hand in response to the "call us if you need us!" from your friends- set on blazing a path through the crowded dance floor to the man in question.

Wading through sweaty bodies you get closer to the bar, when a hand circles your wrist, stopping you. Jerking your hand back you turn, only for the person to press a hand to your lower back, forcibly turning you to face them. You open your mouth, ready to give the stranger a piece of your mind, when you stop. Blinking at the lightly sweaty skin revealed by the light blue button-down unbuttoned at the neck, you tilt your head up, a black stud catching your eye first- then bangs.

"Long time no see, princess."

Your shitty ex-boyfriend's best friend stands before you, grinning, looking just as devastatingly handsome as he had the night you broke up with your ex.

(Suguru had been present for the nasty breakup, just as he had always been present throughout your short-lived relationship with his best friend. And you had no way of confirming, but you had a strange feeling that he might have somehow also been around during the more physically intimate moments of your relationship.)

"Don't touch me, you- you monkey, or I swear I'll-" you hiss, trying to step away from the man, only for him to shift his grip to tighten around your hips, pushing you closer until you're pressed up against him.

"Haven't seen you around much doll, and you're already running away? I'm hurt," he mocks, leaning closer, minty breath fanning over your face. "You wouldn't happen to be running towards Satoru, would you? He's a little preoccupied from the looks of it."

Clenching your jaw you glare up at him, painfully aware of how firm and strong he felt against you.

"He needs to learn to grieve a breakup," you say, flattening your palms against his chest, "Clearly-"

"And how exactly do you plan on doing that? By showing up as the clingy ex? Never thought you were the type, doll."

You swallow once, turning your head to glance at Satoru. He's closer to the blonde now, running a hand up and down her back, while she laughs, clutching at his arms. You doubt he's even noticed you tonight.

"Whatever, fuck, I'll just key his car- now would you let go-"

"Key his car?" you can hear the mirth in his voice, as you feel your face heat with embarrassment.

"Why the fuck are you still here, I'll scream if you don't unhand me right now, Geto."

You feel one hand slide lower until it covers your ass, lightly squeezing. You sharply inhale, when he leans closer, whispering in your ear, " He's looking."

You suck on your lower lip, unconsciously tilting your head to give him more room. He hovers for a moment, before nuzzling into your neck- breath hot, lips wet.

"You wanna make him jealous? Want your revenge? Fucking his best friend is a better place to start than keying his car."

You know it's a bad, no- terrible idea. If Satoru was bad, Suguru was arguably worse. However, standing in his arms in the dimly lit room, with writhing bodies around you, the Weeknd crooning on the bass boosting speakers and the rush of alcohol through your veins- you find it difficult to listen to the warning bells in your head. He's pressing open mouthed kisses you the sensitive skin of your neck and décolletage now, slipping his leg between your thighs, pushing you forward to grind your core against his leg.

You whimper, desire flooding through you, and slide your hands up to clasp around his neck.

"Is he still looking?"

You feel Suguru grin, "Yes."

You press forward, feeling your dress ride up as you grind your pussy on his clothed thigh, mouth parting as he grips your ass and helps you find a better angle.

"That's my dirty girl, I can feel how wet you are already- you're getting off like this in public? Always knew you were a slut."

You moan, rolling your hips, as he slips his thumb in your mouth, lightly pressing on your lower teeth, forcing you to open your mouth further. You lock eyes with him, watching him lick his lower lip, before pressing them to yours, licking into your mouth. You whine, eyes fluttering shut, as you feel yourself getting closer to your high.

The hand that had previously been in your mouth slides down your front, slipping into your dress, thumb sliding over your nipple. You feel your panties wedge between your folds, soaked through. Slipping a hand under your dress, he pulls your panties up, so they push up creating more friction.

He draws his face back, panting lightly, and murmurs against your lips, "Say my name, princess. Whose leg are you humping like a whore where everyone can see? Who are you letting touch you everywhere?"

"Suguru! Oh Suguru, please I'm so close, just-"

"What the actual fuck is going on here?" a very familiar voice cuts through the haze. Your eyes widen, locking with angry, icy blue ones, just as Suguru flexes his thigh, pushing you to your climax. Your head jerks back, you gasp, pussy clenching around nothing as you cum.

"Suguru what the fuck-"

"Satoru, would you shut up, your girlfriend is cumming on my thigh right now, you should take notes- I don't think I've ever seen you actually make her cum."

"I'm not his girlfriend."

"Wanna be mine instead?"

[laneywrld]

call out my name | Lewis Hamilton

request: heyy, can we get a story with call out my name by the weeknd as the base line of the story .

word count: 3.6k

warnings: none

When you first met Lewis, you had a feeling it'd end like this.

If you could go back and change that night, you would, with no hesitation. You missed the days when Lewis was a nonfactor in your life when you didn't know he existed.

You remember that night all too well. Miami was always alive when the Grand Prix came around, your friends, like the partygoers they were enjoyed taking the opportunity to take on the vibrant nightlife and enjoy the crowds the race brought in.

It was an annual tradition, you could say, to party like tomorrow didn't exist when the lights shut down and engines roared to life.

When you first moved to Miami, you hadn't understood the essence of the sport or the crowds it brought in, until you met an overly enthusiastic Daniel Ricciardo.

You had no clue who he was when he quite literally stumbled into your path; his boyish smile and golden retriever energy made it almost impossible to be mad at him as his drink soaked your dress.

"I'm so sorry!" He calls out, stumbling over himself.

"You're not from here?" You called out as you reached down to help him stand up straight. His thick accent was a dead giveaway.

"No, I'm Australian."

"Long way from home," you shouted over the music, dragging his frame into an open seat further away from the dance floor.

"I'm working." He slurs, smiling up at you.

"Mhmm, doesn't look like you're working," you trail off, "what's your name?"

"Danny. After work fun."

"Ahh," you hum, "okay, understandable. I'm going to get you some water, okay? Did you come here with friends?"

"No. Was actually planning on making some friends." He laughs, and it makes you chortle as well.

"Miami is not the place to make friends Danny." You informed. "Stay here, I'm going to grab that water."

You saunter away, keeping an eye on the lean man as you approach the bar. You order a water, paying for the overpriced bottle with your Apple wallet, and quickly return to the drunken man. You don't know why you helped him; it was just in your nature to assist anyone you could.

Danny smiles up at you with an appreciative smile as you uncap the bottle for him, "Can you hold it, or do I have to give it to you?" You inquire.

"Give it to me, please."

You both break out into childish snickers at his words. "Easy there, buddy," you warn, tilting his chin up and directing the bottle to his mouth.

You pull it away, tightening the cap and placing it in front of him on the table. You then slide into the booth beside, "I'd feel better with myself if I stay with you for a while, just to make sure you're okay."

He nods, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, "Yeah, I get it; I'm so shitfaced right now."

It is quiet between the two of you for a while, you constantly reaching over to make sure he's hydrated and him smiling at you all dopey-like.

"You from here?" He asks as he starts to regain his sober mind.

You shake your head, "No, just moved here though."

"You can be my Miami friend." Danny grins.

"I'll probably never see you again after tonight, Mr Australia." You joke, nudging his shoulder with your own.

"I come here every year around this time." He announces. "Work."

"Work," you nod. "Right."

"Yes or no?" He prods.

"Have to see if you can hang; it doesn’t look like you can." You joke.

He scoffs, leaning away and eyeing you. "Please, I am a good time, the best time."

"Sir, I've just met you, and I'm taking care of your drunk ass." You cackle.

"How about this, stick with me for the rest of the night, and if we have a blast, every time I'm in Miami, you ride with me."

"You're going to get white girl wasted every time?" You inquire with a raised brow, and he laughs hard.

"Probably."

It was safe to say that Daniel was a blast. Even if he did party like a fratboy, you enjoyed his company. He gave you the energy of a teenage coming-of-age movie, doing whatever and saying whatever with his friends. It was a connection you hadn't experienced before.

And you enjoyed it, you liked spending time with your Australian friend. Which is how you ended up meeting Sir Lewis Hamilton six years later.

Lewis didn't know why he allowed his enthusiastic coworker to convince him to spend a night in Miami with him. The only solace he found in the situation was knowing that he wasn't the only driver there. Everyone was there, in a section booked by no one other than Daniel Ric himself.

It was nice for sure, and Lewis was curious as to how Daniel, of all people, knew so much about the lively city of Miami and their restless nightlife.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Lewis, just felt out of place a little bit, without his usual crew.

"Hey Guys, I'll be back in a second, I'm going to grab my friend."

Lewis rolls his eyes taking another sip from his glass.

He doesn't know who he was expecting, a Ken doll, a high-energy frat boy like Daniel, or even a valley girl with a high-pitched voice. This was Miami, so logically his smartest anticipation would be a surgery-riddled Kim Kardashian lookalike. But not you, Lewis would never expected you to enter the section, arm wrapped around Daniel's waist as you cackle at whatever nonsense leaves his mouth.

He is instantly intrigued, his phone being powered off and stuffed into his hoodie pocket.

You were beautiful with your rich complexion and beaming grin as he walked you down the line introducing you one by one.

His eyes never leave you as he watches you interact with everyone. You cloud his vision as you get closer. His eyes trace your hair and flow down to your brows and your alluring eyes. His view travels down your nose and lingers on your spread lips. And he physically lets out a sigh as he traces over your body.

You would drive him mad. He knows it.

-

As you take the time to introduce yourself to Danny's coworkers, you aren't surprised to see, well, to make it short, people who are not of your crowd.

But to your surprise, they're all friendly and welcoming. You're not surprised to see that you have met some of them before on your trips with Daniel or when you fly out to see him.

When you reach the end of the line you see him and your confidence falters as your eyes meet his. You should've known by the way his eyes were drinking you in that he'd be a problem.

With conviction, you approach him, bearing a sly smirk on your face.

"I'm y/n." You declared, and Lewis returned the same decency.

"I'm Lewis."

Your hands meet in the middle and he has a soft grip on you, refusing to let go.

"What's a girl like you doing with Daniel."

"He's my friend." You reply.

"Just a friend?"

"Just a friend." You confirm, and the way he looked at you through his fluffy lashes was evidence enough of what was to come between the two of you.

-

Lewis wasn't all that the media portrayed him to be. He wasn't overly confident or carefree. He actually worried a lot and was stressed a lot.

You knew that he felt like he had something to prove. You met him at his peak, and even now, when he feels like he's at the worst in his career, you're still here.

"So you're going to leave?" You hum, rubbing your fingers through his parts.

"Do you think I should?"

He looks so stressed out that is it has your heart is aching for him.

He's slumped like a kid in your lap with his face set in a frown. "I think that if you're unhappy and there are ways that you feel can change that, that you should look for something new, yes."

"Did you mean what you said last time?"

You think back to the last time you were in his presence, how he had gotten drunk for the first time in years. You wince internally as you recall how you had to nurse him back to health that night, how he cried like a baby when he mentioned how alone he felt at Mercedes. Lewis Hamilton wasn't used to being an afterthought.

"Yes, I don't think they appreciate you, Lewis. I don't think they are valuing your feedback or honoring your talent. I think they are making you miserable." You confess. "There are so many other teams that would love to have you, who would fight for you to reclaim your eighth. I don't think you should keep going through this with that team. Look at how they have you."

"Is your favorite team still Ferrari?" He opens his eyes and stares up at you.

"Duh,"

When you first met Daniel, you had only heard of the sport, but as time went on, he fully immersed you into the world of Formula One. You quickly took a liking to the red team and its intricate history in the sport. When you met Lewis in 2018, he was shocked that you knew so much about them (and barely anything about him).

"Don't tell me you're considering Ferrari, Sir Hamilton." You grin and he only smirks up at you.

"We'll see."

-

After the eventful first night you had spent with Lewis nearly six years ago, Miami has become a frequent destination of his. And New York of yours. The two of you guys had a chemistry unlike any other, every night filled with breathless pants and chants of each other's names. It was electric and erotic all at the same time.

You were fully aware that you and Lewis weren't necessarily together.

You were fun for him and him for you.

It was a mutual agreement, a bond strictly built from the amazing sex that the two of you had together.

You were aware that when the time came for Lewis to settle down and spend the rest of his life together it probably wouldn't be with you. You had believed you'd come to terms with the fact. But the idea of you two being together in the future still lingered in the back of your mind.

But as you scroll through Twitter, images and small clips of Lewis walking hand in hand with a Brazilian model have your heart tightening.

It wasn't like Lewis hadn't given you that false hope of a relationship, because you'd like to think that all of those little small things were him giving in. Surrendering that stupid ideology of his that made him believe he was a permanent bachelor.

You'd been by his side and in his bed over and over again for the last six years. And you’d be doing the same again tonight.

You almost feel grimy, sitting and waiting for him in his hotel room as he takes another woman out on a date, but a part of you knows that you’d accept anything from Lewis. You had standards and you had morals, but for a man like him, you always seem to throw them all out of the window.

Your phone vibrates and pings as your social media erupts in a frenzy.

That was another thing that had your mind in shambles right now.

How open he was when it came to you.

How quick he was to show you to the public, none of his other flings had gotten that opportunity, well until whoever this chick was.

Before you, Lewis hadn't introduced his "fun times" to his friends or even bothered to take any of them to the track.

That was something reserved only for you, though, you feel sort of naive, watching the tan and leggy woman prance around hand in hand with Lewis as he leaves the paddock.

You feel like you're stuck at the crossroads as you wait for Lewis to return.

He'd flown you out here partly because he claimed he missed you so much and the other half because of how much of a hard time you'd been having with your life in general.

Lewis was also a sort of saving grace for you, when you were with him, none of your other problems mattered. So you were quick to accept his invitation.

You'd never have accepted if you knew that he'd be playing a cruel game with you like this.

When the door creaks open and he emerges with a happy grin on his face, and bags filled to the brim with what you know are gifts for you, you can only grimace. Your attempt at a smile seems good enough for him as he approaches you and places a sudden kiss on your head.

"Hey love," He smiles, "I've got some gifts for you, yeah, knew you'd need a pick me up."

And you can't help to wonder if you'd needed the pick me up from his actions or what had transpired within this last week which was the sole purpose of you going to see him.

"I'm going to wash up, really fast, yeah? And then it'll be me and you tonight."

You say nothing as he places the bags at your feet and rushes into the bathroom.

You don't move, but you allow your eyes to skim through the bags and sigh as you see just how much he spent on you.

You had gone and done it.

Gone and made some glorified elaborate fairytale out of a man, who'd only treasured your body and in return showered you with gifts.

You laugh at yourself as your hand comes up to palm at your forehead.

You were his goddamn sugar baby, not the kind of woman he'd settle down with.

You feel even more stupid at the realization, that all of the nights you'd lay with him and console him after giving him your body were not as you had made them out to be.

It wasn't romantic, it was transactional. Those nights where you offered Lewis emotional solace always came with a hefty reward the next morning.

And now, you feel tainted, knowing that all it took was a simple call of your name for you to come flying to him and land in his bed, wrapped around his body.

You found Lewis in his prime and stuck by his side through his decline. You comforted him throughout his entire descent down the totem pole. Helped him out of that broken place, and gave him reassurance and something to look forward to.

You treasured this man.

Put him on top, time and time again, when he would leave you feeling used after your time together. And if it was up to you, you'd probably continue this cycle. Giving him your all and getting nothing in return.

You really wanted him, you wanted him to want you, which is why you were fine with keeping his bed warm, at least he wanted you in some kind of way, craved you even if it wasn't the way you wished to be desired.

When he emerges from the steamy bathroom, body clad only in a pair of briefs and his body soft and glowing, you swallow back all of your thoughts allowing yourself to take him in.

He nestles beside you on the bed, taking one of your hands in his, "everything okay?"

You can only push out a meek "yeah."

And the night goes on as planned.

The dim light of dusk spills through the blinds of the grand hotel room, casting long shadows that dance across the walls. You sit against the headboard, The melancholic melody of the empty night mirrors the turmoil in your heart.

Six years ago, you met Lewis at a nightclub, your paths crossing in a haze of neon lights and pulsing music. He was charming and mysterious, with eyes that held secrets and a smile that promised adventure. Your connection was instantaneous, a spark that quickly grew into an all-consuming flame. You spent endless nights talking, laughing, and dreaming about a future together. Well at least on your end.

But as the years passed, you began to notice the cracks in your seemingly perfect world. Lewis' past as a bachelor was a shadow that loomed over your situationship, a constant reminder of the freeness he carried within him. He would disappear for days on end with no communication, leaving you in a state of anxious uncertainty, your mind racing with thoughts of where he might be and who he might be with. Yet, you had no right to concern yourself with these sorts of things.

As you lay in bed, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on you, you find the courage to ask, "Lewis, do you love me?" His silence is deafening, and the look in his eyes speaks of a love that is nonexistent, a love that is more of a need for you than a want.

"I care about you," he finally whispers, his voice tinged with regret. "But my heart belongs to someone else. I’m sorry."

Your world shatters at that moment, the pieces of your heart shattering like broken glass. You know you have to let him go, to find a way to heal from the pain of a love that was never truly yours.

You realize that you have been holding on to a love that was destined to fade, a love that has left you feeling empty and lost.

You deserve a love that is real and true.

He’s like medicine, he makes you feel good and at the same time, he’s like poison, running through your system and finding a new part of you to sicken. Lewis is a walking contradiction, you don’t know if he’s helping you or hurting you, if he loves you, or if he hates you. Surely, he hates you, why else would he be okay with making you feel like this?

And as the city lights flicker on, you vow to never lose yourself again.

You shouldn't ask, because you know you can't bear the weight of his answer but you do.

"The woman from earlier?"

He sighs, his response weak, "Yes."

"So no more us? Right?"

"I think this is the last time." He admits and you swallow back your tears.

"Okay."

"I still want to be your friend."

"We were never friends Lewis, and we're not going to be friends after this."

Lewis swallows, sitting up to catch your gaze through the darkness.

For years, you and Lewis had maintained a delicate balance, a friends-with-benefits arrangement that allowed you both to keep things uncomplicated. You cherished the intimacy, the shared moments of laughter, the comfort of his presence. But deep down, you always knew that this arrangement had an expiration date, an inevitable end that you tried not to think about.

And now, that end has arrived. Lewis has fallen in love with someone else. You can only turn away from him.

You stand up, the cool air of the room a stark contrast to the warmth of the bed. You begin to gather your clothes, each movement mechanical, your mind numb with the reality of it all. You glance around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings that now feel foreign and distant.

As you pull on your jacket, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are filled with unshed tears, your expression a mixture of sadness and resolve. You know that this is the moment you have to let go, to walk away from a love that was never truly yours.

You think it's kind of ironic.

How you'd been there for Lewis, and when you needed him most, he's leaving you behind.

"Do you love me?" Lewis' voice echoes from his place on the bed.

"No." You lie. "It was fun, was fun being a pit stop for you." You chuckle.

"It wasn't like that-"

"No, it's fine, we weren't anything, you fucked me and brought me gifts in return, I ate that up, that's all. I knew I was only here until you made up your mind, I'm happy you did."

You had a tendency to become a bitch when you were hurt and you knew that your words were low blows, but your pride was too hard for you to allow Lewis to see himself affect you in real time.

In reality, you'd hoped that if the unfortunate and impending doom would occur, that Lewis would have the decency to allow you to fall out of love with him first.

Then it wouldn't hurt.

You knew what the arrangement was, you knew that you and Lewis were technically nothing and you always thought that when the day came for him to finally leave you, you'd be fine. You'd feel nothing. But you do.

It feels like when that one character who doesn't care about dying has a sudden brush with death, how almost dying rids you of every sane thought you have, a person who fears nothing all of a sudden fears death, fears everything.

You always thought you'd feel nothing, but losing, could you even say losing Lewis? 

Being left by Lewis feels terrible, being left by him feels scary, like everything you knew before was not as it seems. 

You always thought you'd feel nothing, but you feel everything you thought you never would.

And in the end, you still wanted him to stay. You wanted him to choose you. Even if he didn't want you.

here you go babes @greedyjudge2 !! I'm sorry it took so long <3

part two in the future fs.

[aliceintheworld]

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shouldn't be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: more religion 😬 depression, Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi appear. Jungkook in a towel 💦👅 finally a kiss (things from here happen quickly.) ATTENTION, THIS STORY IS NOT SLOWBURN.

A/N: Guys, I took a while this time for reasons of: laziness and discouragement. I wanted more people to read what I write, but I'm introverted even on the Internet, which leaves me with few alternatives to show my writing to the world. Thinking about it, I'm in trouble. Other than that, only a few days have passed, so everything is fine. Back to the story, everything starts to pick up pace. Just to repeat, the fanfic is not slowburn, so there will be smut in the next chapter. Stay tuned.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 3

I spend the whole week riding an emotional rollercoaster. I find myself visiting my neighbor, Mrs. Jeon, more frequently than usual, and with each visit, our friendship blossoms deeper. She shares stories of her youth, of wild adventures and carefree days when she was my age. Her openness encourages me to share my own experiences–or rather, my lack of them. I recount my first disastrous kiss, confess that I've never been in love, and reveal how my once unshakeable faith in the church has wavered since my father's passing. I feel a weight lift off my shoulders; here, I am free to be imperfect, to be vulnerable, without fear of judgment.

Yet, there's one thing I keep to myself: the incident with her son, Jungkook, and the profound effect he has on me. Throughout all my visits, I never see him again. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I casually ask Mrs. Jeon where he is. She tells me that he moved and rented an apartment to avoid being a burden. He only spent the first night at home after his trip, and I remember that night well–from my window, of course–but I don't mention it. Disappointment settles in me like a stone; I long to see him again, but I focus on his mother instead. Having her to confide in is a relief, a breath of fresh air in my otherwise stifling life.

I patiently wait for her to open up about her own struggles, her depression, but she never does. I worry that I might know something I shouldn't, that perhaps she's not comfortable sharing with me. But I promise myself I'll keep her secret safe, no matter what. Today is Sunday, and I won't visit Mrs. Jeon since I'll see her at church. I'm excited–despite my mother making unnecessary comments and disturbing my peace of mind, I'll have someone to rely on.

I smooth down my dark brown dress, fixing my messy hair. I dab a bit of lipstick on my fingertips and press it onto my lips, careful not to overdo it. The truth is, I enjoy makeup, but I've never learned how to apply it properly. I feel embarrassed drawing attention to myself with bolder colors; after all, people are used to my lack of vanity. I sigh, steeling myself as I head downstairs to meet my mother.

She hasn't stopped talking about Jungkook. Unlike me, who had a good first impression, she despises him. She criticizes everything: his eyebrow piercing, his bold style, his tattoos, even the way he carries himself. I can't help but wonder if she accepted the dinner invitation just to analyze him, searching for flaws that exist only in her mind. She's been friends with Misuk since moving to town, and I want to believe–perhaps naively–that my mother doesn't have ulterior motives.

We arrive at church early, the space quiet with only a few members milling about. My mother drifts away to chat with the older congregation, and I find a seat, taking a deep breath. I scan the room for Mrs. Jeon but I don't see her. Since it's still early, I'm not too worried. I take a moment to read the Bible, reflecting on positive thoughts when I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder. I turn, and there he is–Jungkook, smiling brightly. I frown, almost convinced he's a mirage. Am I daydreaming?

"Hi Y/N, are you okay?" he asks softly, his lips brushing almost against my ear. His intense gaze locks with mine, and I'm relieved to be sitting down; my legs feel weak in his presence.

"Everything's fine," I reply, my eyes dropping to my fingers. I want to engage him, ask about his week, inquire how he's been, but the words stick in my throat. It's as though I can't act normally around him. I take a deep breath, mustering the courage to comment, "I didn't know you attended church."

"I don't," he laughs, amusement dancing in his eyes. And rightly so; considering his clothes–a heavy leather jacket, shaved sides, and a wavy fringe–it's sexy but definitely not what you'd expect at church. "I haven't been since I was a kid."

"Really? Why?" I ask, genuinely curious, my gaze drawn to his eyebrow piercing, oddly captivating.

"I didn't feel welcome," he replies simply. There's no bitterness in his voice, and I understand all too well what he means. My mother, for example, was the first to judge him based on his appearance, and I can only imagine how difficult it is to feel at home in a place where you're not embraced.

"I understand," I say, unsure of what else to add. "So, you came here to give it another shot?"

"No way," he chuckles. "Actually, my mom mentioned you two planned to meet at church today."

"That's true," I confirm.

"Unfortunately, she can't make it today. She's not feeling well."

"Is she okay?" My concern surfaces immediately.

"She's fine, don't worry. Just a headache, and she took some medicine. She'll be better soon," he assures me, his hand lightly touching my shoulder. I can't help but notice how warm and gentle his touch is. I shake my head, trying to divert my thoughts from Jungkook's hands to anything else.

"I'm relieved to hear that," I smile, noticing the church is starting to fill up.

"I'm actually inviting some friends over to my apartment, and I wanted to know if you'd like to join us," he says, brushing his fingertips against his ear, a bit shy. I'm taken aback; I didn't expect this invitation. He wants me to come over with his friends?

"And why?" I ask, surprised. It's been a while since we last saw each other, and we haven't talked much even then.

"I like you. I want you to come so we can have fun."

"If this is some kind of payment, or something like that... you really don't need to." I reply, not believing it. I don't have friends, and the thought that he wants to be with me and the people he likes seems absurd to me.

"It's not that. I'm even a bit offended." He jokes, smiling. "I really want you to come, please."

"Jungkook... I don't know."

"I swear they're nice. Every time I'm in Busan, we hang out. They're trustworthy, I promise."

"I can imagine," I reply, still hesitant. I'd have to leave church, skip the service, and ask my mother for permission to go out with him, and of course, she wouldn't allow it. No way. It's not that I don't want to; I desperately want to spend time with him. That's been on my mind all week. "I don't think it's possible; my mom..."

"I know," he interjects, as if he anticipated my response. "But what if, just this once, you say you are going to my mom's? We could say I'm taking you there when in fact, you're coming to my apartment."

"Are you asking me to lie to my mother in a church?" I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it. He shrugs, grinning.

"God knows it's just once," he replies confidently, pouting slightly. "What do you say? Later, I can take you to my mom's whenever you want, or you can stay at my apartment since I have more than one room. You set the time and conditions."

"Jungkook..." I groan, covering my face with my hands. The thought of lying to my mother, especially to go to a guy's house, sends a wave of anxiety through me. If she finds out, I'll be in big trouble.

"Come on! It'll be fun. I promise," he pleads softly. I can't say no to him, at least not now. I nod, agreeing to the madness.

"Okay, but you're the one who's going to talk to my mom. And if I say I want to leave, you agree. No alcohol because I know you drive. Those are my conditions," I assert, trying to sound firm. He smiles and salutes me, like a soldier receiving orders, and I slowly get up, taking small steps toward my mother. I let Jungkook lead the way, my nerves creeping back as I prepare to tell a lie in this sacred place.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Eunji. Good afternoon, everyone," he greets my mom and the other church members. My mother looks utterly shocked, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she takes in his appearance.

"Good afternoon, Jungkook," she replies, lacking enthusiasm, her gaze scanning him from head to toe. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to do a favor for my mom," he clarifies, and if I didn't know better, I'd almost believe him. "My mom asked Y/N to keep her company since my dad will be out of town for a few days. I came to pick her up."

"Really?" my mom looks at me, and I don't say anything, just nodding.

"It's true. My dad went to Daegu this weekend, and since my mom hasn't been feeling well, she asked Y/N to spend time with her. If you allow it, of course," he smiles calmly, and I brace myself waiting for my mother's response. I watch her weigh her options, glancing between Jungkook and me for what feels like an eternity before she sighs and nods.

"Alright, that's fine. Is your mom feeling okay?"

"Yes, she's getting better. Can we go now?" he asks, a hint of urgency in his voice.

"Yes, you may go," my mom sighs, placing a hand on her forehead. "It's a shame you're missing the service today, Y/N. Next week, you'll definitely come, okay?"

"Yes, mom, for sure," I agree weakly, clearing my throat and avoiding her gaze, still stunned that she let me go to Jungkook's house. Well, not his house, but is practically the same thing.

"Shall we go, Y/N? My mom is waiting," Jungkook says, raising an eyebrow. I nod, still silent, as we make our way toward the exit.

Some people stare, especially the older members, who seem shocked by Jungkook's appearance–too conservative, in my opinion. Somehow, the situation feels even funnier. Once we're sure no one can see us anymore, I burst into laughter, clutching my stomach. Jungkook chuckles too, exhaling as if he's just finished a tough exam and is finally free.

"Your mom is tough, huh?" he laughs. "I thought she was going to kill me with her eyes."

"Sorry," I say, still giggling a little. "She's like that with everyone."

"Even with you?"

"Even with me," I nod. "What do we do now?"

"Now, we go to my apartment. My friends have the key, so they're probably already there."

"Don't tell me they're all guys," I groan, suddenly anxious. I hadn't considered that he might not have any female friends, and I'd be the only girl at the apartment if that were the case.

"No, relax! I have female friends too. You'll like them," he assures me, walking toward a sleek black car parked across the street. I know nothing about cars, but I can tell this one is expensive. I feel out of place, acutely aware that Jungkook lives in a different world, one that's far removed from my own.

The tension in the car is palpable as we drive. The ride feels like it takes forever, the windows closed, and I'm intoxicated by his scent. I discreetly watch his large hands on the wheel, the way his long fingers tap rhythmically against the leather seat. I have to swallow hard to keep from drooling over him. I'm starving–not for food, but for him. All week, I've yearned to be near him, to touch him. I think I'm suffering from a Jungkook overdose, craving something I haven't even tasted yet.

I ponder whether he's aware of the effect he has on me, but I like to believe he hasn't noticed. It's easier that way. I breathe slowly, attempting to relax in my seat. It takes another ten minutes before Jungkook opens the gate to a condo with a small remote and drives in slowly. His car fits the place perfectly. Everything is stunning and upscale. I glance at my clothes and regret agreeing to come. Why did I say yes? I don't know his friends, and I don't know Jungkook that well, aside from the overwhelming attraction I feel toward him. What do I actually know about him? That he's a tattoo artist from Seoul? That he's rich and hasn't set foot in a church since childhood? I feel like I've walked into a situation that's spiraling out of control.

"Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You went quiet all of a sudden," he asks, concern etched on his face.

"I'm fine. Just feeling a bit strange," I admit.

"Why?"

"I don't know," I confess, omitting my paranoid thoughts. "I always feel like this in new places."

"I get that. I feel that way too," he tells me as we step into the parking elevator. I follow him, digesting this new revelation.

"You seem so confident and social," I comment, genuinely amazed. His big eyes meet mine as the elevator rises, floors passing by in a blur.

"I know, it seems that way. But in reality, I'm quite introverted. I have a small circle of friends and prefer it that way. I just fake it really well," he shares, and I find myself wanting to know more about the person behind the confident exterior.

"Really?" I ask, intrigued.

"Yeah," he nods, his expression earnest.

I try to respond, but the elevator stops on a floor, and Jungkook smiles at me, indicating that this is the right place. I feel one of his hands gently touch my waist, guiding me to a white door. I have to take a deep breath to keep from freaking out, my sweaty, trembling hands hidden in my pocket. I hear different music from the other side of the door before the place fully opens up to us.

"Hey, he's here! Finally, Jungkook!" I hear a male voice. It's a guy around Jungkook's age, I realize as soon as we walk in. His hair is a dark red, and his skin is pale and smooth. It's no surprise that his arms are covered in tattoos, drawings and phrases I can't read so far away. He also watches me closely, smiling warmly.

"Guys, this is YN, the one I told you about," Jungkook introduces me with a smile.

I turn red because there are at least seven people staring at me from head to toe. The apartment is well-kept, with dark wooden furniture. The living room is immaculate, with abstract paintings and photos of Jungkook and his family on the walls. I don't have much time to take everything in as my eyes focus on Jungkook's friends, who are strangers to me so far. Saying they're different from me would be an understatement.

They all have many tattoos and wear dark clothing. I sense an aura of confidence from all of them, but never hostility. It's as if they're very similar to Jungkook, with a completely different exterior from their inner selves. I relax a bit, smiling warmly and putting on my best expression.

"Nice to meet you all," I say, feeling a bit shy. They stand up and smile at me.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Yoongi. That's my girlfriend, Minji," says the red-haired guy, pointing to the woman who just smiles. I offer my hand, feeling his cold skin from the beer bottle he was holding earlier.

"I'm Bora, and this is my boyfriend, Jimin," one of the dark-haired women greets me next, pointing to her boyfriend. They're a good-looking couple, the kind you see in magazines. Jimin has the brightest and most open smile.

"Nice to meet you," I nod.

"I'm Taehyung, but you can call me Tae," one of the guys says, taking a sip of his drink.

"I'm Yoori, Tae's girlfriend. Nice to meet you," she winks, making me laugh.

"And I'm Hayun, the only single one in the group," one of the girls shakes my hand, pulling me into a hug. She kisses my cheek, making her presence increasingly noticeable.

"Hayun, you're only single because you want to be, come on," Bora rolls her eyes. Hayun laughs, grabbing a snack from the coffee table.

"I like being single, except when I'm surrounded by couples. Especially couples like you guys."

"Do you have a boyfriend, Y/N?" Jimin asks. Embarrassed, I shake my head.

"No," I reply. They seem surprised, making noises with their mouths.

"But Jungkook is single too, right?" The guy with dark hair says, drinking his beverage. I thinks his name is Tae, if I remember right.

"And I want to keep that way." Jungkook replys.

"Of course you do." Yoongi laughs along with his friends, rolling his eyes. I remain silent, not understanding the joke. Then Yoongi looks at me and seems to notice my confusion. "Y/N, Jungkook never dates. The only time he tried, it went so wrong that now he doesn’t want to do it again."

"It was a disaster." Yoori adds, as if telling a fictional story. Jungkook rolls his eyes, sighing, but his friend continues: "he’s been avoiding relationships like the devil avoids the cross since then."

"Really?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"It’s not true, Y/N." Jungkook smiles at me. "They’re idiots."

"That’s not a lie." Minji, who had been silent until then, clarifies. "He’s been asked out several times, and he always declines. Women go crazy for him, for some reason."

"I know what the reason is." Jimin laughs mischievously, suggesting something while raising an eyebrow. I turn red when they laugh at the joke. Jungkook doesn’t contest it, too busy eating one of the snacks on the table. "But what about you, Y/N? Have you ever dated before?"

"Never." I reply. They don't look surprised this time.

"So you're like Jungkook, who avoids relationships?" Bora asks with a laugh. I feel Jungkook's eyes on me, watching attentively for my response. I shake my head, feeling awkward.

"No, actually, it's just a lack of options," I clarify, deciding to be honest. I hold my hands together nervously.

"Now you have two options," Yoongi suggests with a chuckle. Minji hits his arm trying to stop him, but he continues: "There's Hayun, since she likes to try out a little bit of everything, like some pussy and shit."

"Oh!" I widen my eyes, shocked, as they laugh even more. It's the first time I've seen someone speak so openly like this. Embarrassed, I look at Hayun, but she doesn't seem to mind the comment, laughing with the others.

"Who would be the other option?" Taehyung asks his friend with his trademark grin.

"Our friend Jungkook, obviously," Yoongi clarifies, and I choke on the answer, coughing uncontrollably.

They laugh even more, watching me nearly suffocate from the joke. Jungkook pats my back, smiling widely. His thumb caresses the skin of my arm, waiting for me to calm down. We're so close that he inadvertently wraps one of his arms around my shoulder. I'm shocked and even more unsettled. For me, physical contact beyond my mom is rare. Hugs, affection... I'm just not used to it.

"Are you okay?" he asks amidst his friends' chatter. I nod, staring at my hands. "Sorry about Yoongi; he always makes these kinds of jokes. He doesn't mean any harm."

"It's fine," I assure him, feeling awkward, unable to look into his eyes. "I actually liked everyone."

"Really?" he asks, bringing his nose close to my hair. My whole body shivers as I realize he's smelling my perfume, giving a satisfied smile when he pulls away. "Good to know."

I stay silent, feeling his warm breath near me. Jungkook removes his arm from my shoulder, but his skin still brushes against mine when he takes off his heavy jacket, leaving him in just a T-shirt. His friends are fun and involve me in the conversation, making me feel comfortable, but the truth is that having Jungkook so close drives me crazy and I can't pay much attention. I wonder how long I'll feel this way about him. Will this strong effect never go away? This is the third time we've met, but something tells me that no matter how many times I see him-be it two times or a thousand-my heart will always race whenever he gets close and smiles at me.

I don't even notice the time passing and only realize it's late when Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung offer to take their girlfriends home, along with Hayun, who complains about not having anyone waiting for her at her apartment. Everyone leaves until only Jungkook and I remain. He promised to take me to his mother's house if I wanted, but I'm hesitant to ask as it's quite likely Mrs. Jeon is already asleep by now.

"Y/N, do you want me to get a towel for you?" Jungkook asks, tidying up the living room. I'm confused, picking up some empty soju bottles his friends drank to throw away.

"What do you mean?"

"You're not going to stay here?" he asks, furrowing his brow.

"Not really?" I laugh, then realize I might have been a bit rude, so I rephrase my response. "I mean, I don't think so. I don't want to be a bother."

"It's no bother. If you want, you can take a shower in my bathroom and sleep in the guest room." He offers with a smile. I bite my lower lip, unsure what to decide. I want to stay here, but it's just him and me now; is it really the right thing to do? It doesn't matter, Y/N. Just for one night.

"Okay then. Do you have a toothbrush, please?"

"Of course I do. Come with me, I'll get the stuff for you to use the bathroom." He calls me with a smile and walks down the long hallway. We pass by a few doors until we reach his room. My throat goes dry as my eyes scan the new space. His bed is large and covered with a dark gray blanket. The walls are white and everything is very organized, with a laptop next to the wardrobe and a fluffy black rug on the floor. His scent is everywhere, almost as if I'm breathing him. I clutch my hands together nervously about being alone with Jungkook in such an intimate space. He reappears after going to the closet, holding a white towel and some cotton clothes.

"You can take a shower in my bathroom while I use the guest one," he says, placing the items in my hands.

"Jungkook, that's not necessary..."

"Don't worry. I want you to be comfortable." He says before I can argue. His satisfied smile makes me not deny it again, happy to receive so much care from him. I just nod, agreeing. "The toothbrush is in the cabinet by the sink, in the package. You can open it, okay?"

"Okay, thank you very much." I smile before he walks down the hallway. I head to the door leading to the bathroom and sneak into the new space. I start thinking Jungkook has no flaws.

The place is as clean as the rest of the apartment, which makes me curious; does he clean everything himself, or does he hire someone to keep it tidy? I slowly take off my dress, grabbing my phone to text my mom and let her know I'm okay. I feel bad for lying, but the night was so good that I can't truly regret it. If I had to lie, to meet these same people, I would do it again. Thinking this surprises me, because just a few hours ago, I didn't think this way. The shower has a strong hot jet of water that massages my whole body, and it's so good that I have to convince myself to finish the shower and put on the clothes, trying to be done before Jungkook.

I brush my teeth quickly, smelling my skin that's still male fragrant with the liquid soap. I smile at myself in the mirror, brushing my hair with my fingers, trying to manage the unwashed strands. I open the bathroom door carefully, trying not to make too much noise and disturb the neighbors at this hour, when I see Jungkook again, this time only in a towel. I hold onto the doorframe, barely able to stand. A voice in my head tells me I shouldn't be watching him naked again and that I should turn around, go back into the bathroom, and pretend nothing happened, but I can't. I simply can't anymore. His muscular, wet back is in my field of vision as he searches for clothes. At that moment, my brain turns to mush and I decide to say what's been stuck in my throat.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" I muster the courage to ask him but I regret it immediately. What the hell am I doing? Jungkook turns slowly and the view from the front is a thousand times better than from the back. His whole body glistens in the light of the room, and his tattoos have never been so vivid. His body is muscular, virile and strong. I gonna lose my mind! Feeling new sensations I've never experienced for anyone before.

"Y/N?" He whispers my name with that soft voice he used when we first met. He doesn't seem surprised or embarrassed, which makes me even more unsettled.

"You're doing this on purpose, Jungkook?" I ask again. I have no idea where I got such courage and I don't know how long it will last. My heart feels like it's going to leap out of my chest. My whole body is on edge and sweating. I feel my hands trembling as I swallow hard. "You're trying something? I mean... you're not wearing clothes again and..."

"What do you think, Y/N?" he retorts suddenly, with a hoarse, deep voice. His eyes wander from my head to toes, as he raises an eyebrow along with his piercing, with a smirk at the corner of his mouth. My legs turn to weak twigs immediately, ready to collapse.

"I-I don't know." I stammer as he takes one step, then two and three, getting closer and closer to me.

"When I arrived from my trip to Busan, on the first day, I was tired and exhausted," he tells me, taking another step. I start to run out of breath, anxious and aroused. My cheeks flush as he speaks more slowly. "All I wanted was to rest and sleep the whole night, but that night I couldn't, not for an hour. Do you know why?"

"N-no..." I moan softly as his chest presses against mine. His warm, wet skin makes contact with mine, and I no longer know where I begin or end, pressed against his body. His pink lips curl into a wicked smile, as if he knows exactly what he's doing to me and it's all intentional. I shiver as his free hand moves up my wrist and grips the back of my neck firmly, making my eyes focus on his mouth and then his dark, deep eyes.

"A woman, next window, taking off all her damn clothes, completely shameless," he growls, pulling my neck closer to his face and pressing his lips to my ear. My spine tingles as I feel his teeth on my earlobe, in a bite that doesn't hurt but damn, it makes me shiver. My body contracts once and twice, and I know exactly what I'm feeling now: desire. The kind I feel occasionally when I try to touch myself alone and can't reach climax. The feeling I only have when I'm alone and confortable in my bed, trying to use my imagination even with the lack of real experience, but this is real, and it is infinitely better than what my mind could create.

"It was an accident, Jung..." I try to say, but my voice doesn't come out. The tip of his nose travels along a sensitive spot behind my ear, one I didn't even know existed, slowly moving down my jawline, discovering new paths. His hand tightens around my waist, keeping me in place, immobile.

"It may be that you didn't notice, Y/N, but I know you were watching me, even while I was undressing, even when you had every opportunity to stop." He argues with a smile, as someone who knows what they're doing and enjoys seeing the result. "And you know what's worse...? The worst thing is knowing the effect you have on me. From the first time I saw you in my house, with your innocent and curious eyes. I can't get you out of my damn head. Your mouth, your scent..."

"J-Jungkook... please." I beg, closing my eyes tightly. And I know what I want. I want him, since the first time I saw him. Since my eyes met his, I desired him so strongly that I couldn't think straight. He pulls away just a little, and I almost moan in a plea for him not to go. He sighs, pressing his forehead to mine.

"Can I kiss you, Y/N?" he asks in a very soft voice, and I nod because, despite all the things I believe in–God, hell, heaven and even my mother–nothing has ever been as adored as Jungkook. Since I met him, inexplicably, I only think about him, like a spell unable to contemplate of any other answer besides yes. I look at his eyes as they travel to my mouth, and I lower mine to his, exhilarated by that pink that only exists in him.

I move closer, my lips almost touching his, feeling the warmth of his breath. "Just kiss me, please." I murmur scared of what I'm doing; temptation clear in every word. And then he does.

Ask for a TAGLIST in the comments.

@ane102 @ttipa @joonwater

[astrologythingzzz]

Astrology observations Nr. 4

I am officially back! I hope you like my observations and remember: these are all my observations, they're not meant to hurt anyone! 🧸

Pisces rising women can be pretty cold, distant and aloof. Even when you're really close to them, it always feels like there's this barrier between you and them

Also I've noticed they're really bad at conversation. I really despise talking to them because they're so passive and unwilling to say anything. They're just too quiet for me (I'm a Gemini moon and air dominant) (sorry to anyone who's a nice Pisces rising 🧸🥺🤍)

Saturn in the 4th house had mothers or caretakers that were strict and not pleased with their accomplishments. They may feel like they're never good enough for their mother

Neptune in the 4th house may have caretakers that were unable to actually take care of them. I've seen this in people whose parents struggled with substance abuse or mental health issues. These children dream about the perfect life and the perfect family. They wish they grew up "normally" 🥺

Leo sun and virgo rising is just such a beautiful placement. Both my friends have this and they're the perfect mix of generosity, playfulness and helpfulness. They're the best 🥺

Virgo Venus and their obsession with pets, a healthy and balanced diet and their body.

Also 6th house venus, they're the ones going after a career as a nutritionist or a dog trainer

Scorpio sun gemini rising look absolutely stunning in black, with black eyeliner, a corset top and silver jewellery

Aries moons are the perfect friends for spontaneous day trips. They're so full of life it makes me so happy! It truly fulfills and satisfies my need for variety

Love love love virgo mercuries. So smart, so talkative, so good at conversation. The perfect friends to visit a café and talk about life for hours 🫶🏼

Venus opposite Ascendant have a lot of Libra or libra rising traits. Though they know how to "use" people for their personal social gain and status. They're very charming and are always surrounded by a ton of friends. They're also always in a relationship or in love

They also loove romantic novels like the ones that are a bit too much

Aquarius Mercuries are real musical geniuses

The weeknd, Rihanna, Lolo Zouai, Harry Styles, Justin Bieber, Olivia Rodrigo are all aqua mercuries. We're the best 🫶🏼

Many astrologers say that the moon sign is most important when it comes to music, but I personally relate more to the artists that have the same Mercury sign as me, for me it's aqua mercuries or people who are heavily influenced by aquarius

That's it for now, I hope you enjoyed reading my thoughts!

Love you, have a nice day wherever and whenever you're reading this!

Also happy new year🤍 I wish you all the blessings and love you deserve! 🤍🤍🤍

[talesofely]

Save My Tears (2)

A Sequel (Part 2) to The (Wo)Man Who Can't Be Moved. (Part 1)

Pairings : Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary : Natasha's your ex-girlfriend, she broke up with you without giving you a solid reason as to why. Obviously, you want her back. One problem, she's unofficially dating Bucky Barnes. So you decided to solve it with a little performance.

Warnings : Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending (or is it?😏), swearing, one line used 'her' as reader's pronouns, pls tell me if u see anything else

Word Count : 2.1k

Note : here's pt2 ! pls let my family go now :c

Natasha.

Natasha didn't want to attend tonight's party. 'Cause the last party she went to was with you. The last party she went to, she was clinging onto your arm. The last party she went to, she slept in your arms.

Unlike you, who always asked if you could be her date for the night, Bucky asked her to be his date for tonight. Normally Natasha wouldn't notice those miniscule things, but it was just so different from you.

Unlike you, who always insisted on picking her up from her room, Bucky just waited for her at the elevator.

Bucky brought her a bouquet of roses when they met at the elevator! You never bought her a bouquet of real roses... cause you always gave her paper ones, ones you knew she would appreciate more since they don't wither.

Bucky asked how he looked and said that Natasha looked perfect to be his date. You always told her she looked amazing, and joked about not looking good enough to be her date.

Bucky bought her a drink and a stronger drink for himself, like a gentleman. You always got the lesser alcoholic ones since you wanted to stay sober enough to take care of her in case she gets drunk.

She hated comparing him to you. But she couldn't help it. His arms just don't compare to yours.

She shook her head to clear away any thoughts about you, wanting to focus on her night with Bucky. She subconsciously searched the crowds for you, but she couldn't find that y/h/c hair that she could always find in the midst of the crowds.

Bucky asked her to dance. They stood in the middle of the makeshift dancefloor. Everyone's eyes were on them, she didn't like it. You always knew she felt uncomfortable being the center of attention. Bucky seemed to like it, though.

She saw how Bucky signaled Steve to sing. Mouthing a song title she wasn't able to read. Steve seemed skeptical at first, but the questioning look from Bucky caused him to concede and sing the song.

When 'Wonderful Tonight' started playing, Natasha's eyes winded. It was your song. The song you always sang to her. The song you two danced together. She's dancing it again, just not with you.

She tried her best to smile, and tried her best to not imagine you as she danced with Bucky.

She remembered how you used to sing the song in her ear as you two slowly danced around the kitchen, at 2am, using the refrigerator light as light, whenever she had nightmares.

"Oh, my darling, you were wonderful tonight" You—Bucky—whispered in her ear as the song came to an end. You—Bucky—kissed her forehead as you two pulled away.

She was going to excuse herself to the bathroom to clear out her thoughts when the next singer caught her attention.

It was you.

I saw you dancing in a crowded room

You look so happy when I'm not with you

You looked so breathtaking, she thought. Oh how she would've loved to arrive and leave with her in your arms. But she couldn't. She was in Bucky's arms.

"Hey, everyone. I hope y'all are having an amazing night. I do hope you enjoy these songs I'm about to play." You said as you clicked the instrumental version of the song you chose, on the tablet.

She couldn't deny how much she missed your voice. How much she longs to hear that voice say those 8 letters she used to hear everyday from you.

But then you saw me, caught you by surprise

A single teardrop falling from your eye

When your eyes met, she didn't know what to feel. She didn't know whether to feel happy, to feel sad, to feel hurt, or to feel angry that she let you go.

That bittersweet smile you gave her, hurt her in ways she didn't even know was possible. She got shot before, she got stabbed, she got punched and kicked multiple times before, but this type of pain is something she's never experienced before.

She wanted to run up to the stage and beg for your forgiveness while hugging you tightly when she saw the single tear falling from your eye.

I don't know why I run away

I made you cry when I run away

She left before the song ended. She ran away, again. She ran to the rooftop. The place where you two always ran together to.

She didn't even notice Bucky following her.

Wanda Immediately approached you when you got off stage. She pulled you into a hug before pointing at the stairway up to the rooftop.

"She's up there. Go follow her, please. Bucky followed her, I'm worried it might not end well for Bucky." She said with a wince, remembering the last time someone tried to approach Natasha while she had so many emotions running.

You bit your lower lip, your hesitation was strong. But the worried look from Wanda was enough to make you run up.

"Leave me alone for a minute, Buck." You heard Natasha say, trying to control her emotions. Her hands are gripping the rails so tightly, her knuckles were turning white.

"What's wrong Tash?" The nickname he used wasn't helping. You used to call her that all the time.

"Please, Bucky, just 5 minutes. Please." She pleaded, you noticed her grip was getting tighter.

"Just tell me what's wrong, Natasha!" He raised his voice. Something you never did in all your years you two dated.

"For fuck's sake I still love her! I still fucking love Y/N so much, that it actually hurts! Is that what you wanted to hear?!" Natasha finally screamed back, turning to face Bucky directly. Tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"Я так скучаю по ней, Bucky, which is stupid cause I was the one who broke her heart. So I have no right to act like it hurts me more, but it still hurts so much." She murmured, not even caring that she was crying in front of Bucky. (translation : I miss her so much.)

"What?" Bucky couldn't believe it. He thought they were both in love, he was even going to ask her to be his girlfriend officially tonight. "Leave, please." Natasha forced herself to calm down, glaring at Bucky as he shamefully walked towards the stairwell where you were.

When Bucky saw you, he tried his best to give you a genuine smile. "Her heart's still yours. Don't lose it." He said as he gave your shoulder a pat and walked away.

You took a deep breath before approaching Natasha.

"Tasha." Just one word from you was enough to gain Natasha's attention. She turned around in surprise, wiping her tears hastily.

"Y/N? What're you doing here?" She tried her best to act calm, using all her spy skills to act collected in front of you. But you both know that you could see right through it.

"Was it true, Natasha? You told Bucky you still love me. Were you telling the truth?" You asked carefully, not wanting to overwhelm her. You leaned your back against the railings beside her, she had her arms leaning against it as she looked at the busy streets below.

"What are you going to do if I said yes?" She answered your question with her own question. You just shrugged, staring up into the stars.

You felt her shiver when a particularly strong wind blew past you. Instinctively, you gave her your jacket.

You could've asked me why I broke your heart

You could've told me that you fell apart

"Why aren't you asking me why I left? Why I ran away? Why aren't you screaming at me? Why aren't you mad at me?" She said after you placed your jacket on her shoulders. She was frustrated at herself for ending things with you. She was also frustrated as to why you weren't hating her like she thinks she deserves.

"What's the point of getting mad? Being mad at you won't get you back, it won't help me understand why you left either." She hated how understanding you were. It made her guilt grow bigger with every word you say.

"I really want to ask something though," She looked at you expectantly, thinking of possible questions you could ask. "Why'd you run away?" You felt her breath hitch when you finally let those words leave your tongue. You were also nervous yourself, not knowing what to expect from your ex-girlfriend.

"I was scared." She took a deep breath before continuing, "You're just too perfect. We were so perfect that it terrified me. Nothing stays that good that long. Everything had consequences. Maybe the consequence for me was that you moved on so quickly."

But you walked past me like I wasn't there

And just pretended like you didn't care

Your brows furrowed. 'You moved on too quickly'?

"But I haven't moved on, Nat. What gave you the idea that I already did?"

"You just walk past me everyday at the compound ever since you returned. I thought you didn't care about it anymore." She finally looked at you, both your eyes meeting like they were always destined to meet.

"'Cause I didn't want to hold you back, Natasha. I thought it'd help us both move on if we acted like nothing happened. I guess it didn't, I'm sorry." You were always so nice. Natasha hated it. She hated the fact that she feels like she's abusing your kindness and that she couldn't do anything about it.

Take me back 'cause I wanna stay

Save your tears for another

"Does that mean you still love me?" Natasha hesitantly asked, biting her lower lip.

"Of course, Tash." You said with a small sad smile. A smile immediately made itsm's way to her face. But when she saw your smile, her's faltered and her brows furrowed.

"I'm assuming there's a 'but' to that sentence?"

You nodded slowly, giving her a smile that made her worries grow.

"I never stopped loving you, Tasha, just... not in the same way as before." Natasha felt her heart drop. No matter how much she tried to stop the tears from falling, she couldn't stop them when she heard those words from you.

"What do you mean, Y/N?"

Yeah, I broke your heart like someone did to mine

And now you won't love me for a second time

You bit your lower lip, trying to find the right words to explain it properly to her.

"I still love you, but you hurt me, Tasha. I understand you got scared, but if you really loved me you would've told me. You should've explained your feelings and worries to me. We could've gotten through that together." You hated seeing her cry, more so being the reason she's crying. But you needed to tell her this, you both needed it to move on.

"I'm sorry. Does that mean we— you don't want me back anymore?" She asked in a voice so quiet you could barely hear it.

I realize that I'm much too late

And you deserve someone better

Your smile broke all her hopes. She started sobbing quietly, something she's never done before. She's a silent crier, so hearing her sob hurts you way more than you expected. You immediately pulled her into a hug, confusing her but her mind was too foggy to even question it. Her arms instinctively went around your neck as she buried her face into the crook of your neck.

Save your tears for another day

"Of course I want you back, silly. I'm just saying that we need to work to get back to where we were before. I won't ever let you go again, Natasha, so please don't let go either." You whispered into her ear. Every part of Natasha came back to life the moment those words left your lips.

You felt her hug you tighter. You continued to whisper comforting words to calm her down, as she whispered promises to you as well.

"You are the only sure thing in a world filled with a thousand doubts, Natalia. Please don't walk away again." You murmured, feeling her nodding her head hastily.

"Never again, my love. You're the only thing that keeps me sane. I love you." She pulled away from the hug to cup your cheeks and close the gap between your lips.

That's when you knew, you're never going to see her in the arms of anyone besides yourself, ever again.

Save your tears for another day (ah)

Save your tears for another day (ah)

note :

surprise ! the original ending was that bucky and natasha ended up together cause y/n didn't want to take natasha back. buuuut i didn't wanna hurt myself that much while writing it so yeah, u guys get this. enjoyyyy!

taglist (i won't do taglists but i will be doing it for fics w/ diff parts) : @taliiiaasteria @itstashaswife @username23345 @wandanatlov3r @esposadejoyhuerta @marvelwomen-simp @artm99 @d3adp00ls @freewaysigns-underpasses @unique0003 @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @spid3rfan @ellieromanov @mikookaaaaaao @miky40s @ncsdlr @unknownfanfic @pipsipey17 @tarathia @kyky-maximoff @graceher07 (i didn't know if the people who asked for pt2 wanted to get tagged so if u didn't, i'm so sorrryyyyy)

[littyhoney]

Right Person,Wrong Time. (part 2)

BIG SPOILER WARNING TO ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE!!

Earth 42 Miles Morales x Reader

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

Chapter summary: It has been a year and Miles can’t seem to move on from Gwen…how much longer can you take for always be in the dark? But little did you know someone is waiting in the dark for you..

Warning: Spoilers for the movie Across the Spider-verse, long chapter,heavy Angst

p/s: if some of you are confuse if this is Miles 1610 fic or Miles 42 its Miles 42 but the chapters are for build ups for extra pain hehe enjoy! also i try my best to make it gender neutral <3

You walk through the sidewalk making your way to Miles apartment with bluetooth headphones on both of your hand in your pockets of your hoodie to keep you warm from the chilling air, In your ears is blasting a music from the Weeknd-Call out my name.

It has been a year…for that whole year you have been there for Miles again and again and again… and every single time you fail to win Miles over. You been very vague of your feeling towards Miles but the boy seems to be too focus on someone else..Gwen Stacy. You have try to let him know that you’re there! Not her,whenever he is down you’re there to comfort him,not Gwen. Whenever he is in trouble you would cover for him, you become so selfless over him not wanting to see him get hurt..but who will care for you? Protect you? You just don’t know…

You walk over the steps leading up to the Morales front door and knock on it as you pull your headphones off. You hear the door unlock and open for you to see Mrs Morales “Hey mama Rio,is Miles here? He didn’t answer his phone”

“Really? Oh well he is in his room, come in dear its cold outside”The woman smiles as she close the door behind you  as you walk in, clearly you know where miles get such a warm smile from “Thanks Mama Rio”you smile at the woman taking your hoodie off.

“Oh dear I almost forgot that we be making a party up at the rooftop,its uh a celebration for Jeff becoming the next captain”You look at her with a big smile before let out a chuckle, you knew that Jeff is a good cop who always keeping the city safe “Congrats! Wow! Uh il make sure to come by the party, thanks for the invite Mama Rio”you walk towards Miles door “Anytime dear”the woman speaks before focus back to her Tv show.

You knock on the door to Miles room before a muffle come in speaks from inside the room,you open the door and lean on the door frame with a small smirk “Sup coco head”looking at Miles who is sitting at his desk with his headphones on.

Miles yelp when he turn around to see you by the door before he rip his headphones off his head turning towards you “Geez (N/n) I though you were my mom” Miles sigh before he slump back on his seat “Wait why are you here?”he tilt his head looking at you.

You sigh as you drop your head before push yourself up from the door frame walking towards Miles and pull out your phone showing him the miss calls and unread messages "You promise to hang out today at the park,remember? you told me over the phone yesterday for basketball?”you feel slightly annoyed now knowing he keeps forgetting his promises these past months but you still have sympathy over him,since he been over his head lately.

Miles sit up straigh before looking up at you,guilt drawn all over his face “I-Im sorry man I forgot it’s just ‘sigh’ a lot of things have been going on in my head lately”

“oh,what happened? don’t tell me you got in trouble again Miles”you said with a slight frown drawn on your face looking down at him. Miles head snap back to you shaking his head “noo nono”he laugh nervously as he try to convinve you,clearly he is in trouble.

“Miles..”you look at him squinting your eyes at him frow drawn on your eyebrows. Miles sigh defeated before he held his head in his hand on the table “I uhh..okay..the principal wants to see me and my parents tomorrow..”

You look at him in shock before you held your hand on your waist “But I though you aced the exam Miles,are the notes from me and Ganke not enough to cover it??” you ask him,still in disbelief. Since both of you are busy going in and out of the class for emergency moments,both of you mostly rely on notes to pass the exam,you mostly write your own notes but Miles always share Ganke’s notes with you.

Miles shake his head before leaning back on the chair “I don’t know (Y/n) clearly something is up and right now im in..shambles man. Nothing makes sense to me anymore,after wearing that mask everything is just on my shoulder”the boy is clearly burned out by all of his responsibilities..being a son,a student and a hero. He seems to think that everything and everyone relys on him while he can’t rely on anyone…but how wrong is he.

You shake your head slightly,moving near him as you lean on the chair looking down at him “Miles…youre not alone in this,I know that being a hero is such a big responsibility but…im here for you man”your eyes soften “You can rely on me anytime Miles…heck if you want I can do the patrol stuff for a week if you ask me to man” you let out a chuckle,this boy really have a soft spot on you.

Miles shake his head his face still frowning before he says “But you’re not her (Y/N), you’re...not Gwen”he look up at you.

You look at him…blink a few times letting his words sink in to you,you move yourself away from him,walking backwards before a soft chuckle escape your lips “are you for real Miles..? Gwen?”your brows frown mouth agape not believing what you just have heard..

Miles begin to talk again but you quickly cut him off “No man I heh…well she’s not here is she? Im here for you Miles,from the beginning to hear your problems a-and to cover your freaking ass everytime man..”your voice cracked as you try to talk out through the choking “im the one who is taking hits for you,the one who always have to sit there listening you calling for someone who is not here”you hiss out the word at him..tears building up making everything you see is blurry but you blink away the tears as much as you can..

“Youre not the only one who wears the mask Miles,but I put you above myself everytime so that I know you’re okay…but you’re here telling me that you want someone else to stand here….am I not enough for you Miles?”you point to yourself,your heart cracks at every sob that you try to surpress.

“(N/n) I..”Miles stand up trying to reach for your arm but you held out your hand stopping him. You rub your nose with your other hand letting out a sniff before your cracked voice speaks “No..no Miles..im just gonna go…tell your dad I said congrats”you said as you walk out of his room taking your hoodie that you put on the hanger walking out of the main door and close it.… you lean your back on the door as you finally let the tears running down your cheek…

To be continued.

(Woah what a chapter huh,part 3 soon..)

Tags:

@usernamepassowrd-blog @marimo331 @rinouko @chims-kookies

@rinisfruity14 @gasoline-eater @bath1lda @kiranishi @blep24

@dani111

[blkkizzat]

ꨄ︎『Sneaky Links』ꨄ︎ (PART 1)

Sukuna x Reader (Mentions of Yuji x Reader)

18+ Minors - DNI

PART 1 of 2

Summary: Y/N is a dickmatized manipulative brat. Sukuna is Sukuna. Poor sweet Yuji is collateral damage. CW: cheating, rough play, unprotected sex, spit play, brat taming, spanking, pussy slapping, manipulation, fingering, anal play, edging, tit job, blow job, slight dubcon, sukuna being toxic, y/n thinking with her pussy not her brain (but it’s hard not to when you got that wet wet). WK: 3.1k of 8.5k Slightly Black female coded but no descriptors.

A/N: All I do is eat hot chip and bump Spotify so nearly everything I write has song(s) that goes with it.

Sukuna POV: I Mean It - G-Eazy (this mv is so unsrs but I'm criiiine imagining Sukuna as G-Eazy in this video lmfao) Reader POV: You Right - Doja Cat (not like Sukuna couldn't be The Weeknd POV here but he's so much more of an asshole than that)

Enjoy!

‘2:37 AM’. Fuck.

You had to stop looking at the clock, it was only making you more restless. Usually sleep came to you easily as the peaceful dark of your room and light snores coming from your boyfriend Yuji would lull you into a comforting slumber each night.

You sighed.

Your head lay on Yuji’s chest and his arm was loosely draped around your waist. This has become your typical sleeping position since moving in with each other. You have only been living together for over a little over a month now. But living with Yuji was great, even if your apartment was smaller than you would have liked. 

Despite the both of you being full fledged sorcerers and risking your lives constantly, exorcizing curses didn’t pay the best salary. You wanted something bigger but it was cheap enough to allow the both of you to save for something much better down the line. 

It was Yuji who had mentioned that fact to you, to both console your protests and to hint at more promises for the future. That had been enough to make you giddy and you would have agreed to live in a closet if it meant you could be together.

Sure, Yuji could be a little clueless at times but he always tried his best to make you happy. The two of you rarely had any disagreements even when you were being a stubborn brat. His easy going nature took your faults in stride, meeting your needs without complaint. 

Yuji was always doing sweet things for you like waking up a bit earlier so you could drink your coffee (that he always burnt) in bed. He would shower you with soft kisses to coax you awake with a wide grin and a whispered ‘good morning’ that made you feel warm just remembering it.

You really couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend.

You were happy with Yuji.

You love him and are very happy with Yuji. 

Sigh.

So then why exactly is your mind torturing you with thoughts of the cursed object inside your boyfriend taking control of his body and fucking you dumb into the mattress?  

You caught yourself unconsciously chewing your lip in nervous anticipation. 

Your mind couldn’t allow you to sleep because it was filled with Sukuna, The King of Curses and every jujutsu sorcerer’s sworn enemy. 

Your enemy.

How could you let it come to this? 

You felt guilty but it’s not like you had asked for this to start happening. That said, you made no real attempts to stop Sukuna thus far from showing up to fuck you before disappearing again like a thief in the night. 

Rode hard and put away wet, he used you on his whims and it had been happening more frequently ever since the first week after you and Yuji moved-in together. 

The fateful night it started was the night of your housewarming party, ironically enough.

You honestly didn't even want a damned housewarming, you recalled looking back. You thought it was impractical and a bit embarrassing to throw a housewarming for such a small flat. 

Everyone would be on top of each other the entire night. 

But Gojo had insisted, promising to supply the drinks and food which automatically had Yuji on board, so you just gave in. Anything to get Gojo out of your hair and seeing Yuji so excited made you smile.

The housewarming itself went well until the six eyed sorcerer had suggested a ‘friendly’ drinking game. All which would have been fine if Gojo hadn’t brought over what he called Reggae Punch.

However, it wasn’t the standard recipe of peach liqueur and oolong tea you could find in any Tokyo bar. The dark orange drink Gojo concocted was a heavy mixture of actual punch and different liquors that you couldn’t identify until you were already 2 cups in.

The son of a bitch. He had literally tricked y’all into drinking Jungle Juice.

You were already faded as hell by the time the game started so you eliminated yourself early on purpose. 

Yuji, who was a good boy and never even took a sip of alcohol until he was legal earlier this year, actually thought he stood a chance at winning against his seniors. He foolishly joined-in with earnestness.

Rolling your eyes at the memory, the night ended as expected. Yuji was beyond shitfaced. 

His head hung heavy and was barely still on the low chabudai table by the time Nanami (the winner) had dragged a drunken Gojo out of your apartment, who was still singing songs from the pricey digital karaoke machine he had gifted the both of you earlier in the night. 

Maki and Yuta, sensible enough to stop drinking early like you, had already left.

Meaning Nobara, Inumaki and Megumi, all pretty lit themselves, had the near impossible task of dragging Panda home which you did not envy. 

With everyone gone, getting Yuji into bed proved a far easier feat than expected. 

You had left him some ibuprofen and pedialyte on the nightstand and a small bin next to the bed just in case he woke up and felt sick. You really didn’t mind taking care of your boyfriend who always took such good care of you. 

You just wished it didn’t have to be this night. This night when you realized for the first time that mixing that much alcohol in large quantities just went straight to your pussy.  

Pleasing yourself usually wasn’t an issue but after you pulled the second yet still unsatisfying orgasm from yourself is when Sukuna had made his appearance chuckling at your failed attempts. 

Admittedly, you were terrified at first.

You had been dating Yuji for two years but Sukuna didn’t often show himself and he had never even addressed you directly before. It was dangerously easy to forget the most powerful evil sorcerer in existence was residing rent free inside your bf’s soul. 

Nevertheless, you were hard up for a real release at that moment. A cloud of lust fogged your brain and it didn’t take much goading at all for your legs to spread like a warm jelly for The Curse King.

And he did not disappoint. 

Sukuna’s sharp tongue flooded your ears with degrading praises sending electricity through your body that settled in your core where the even sharper strokes of his hips corrupted you from the inside out. 

All your senses utterly stupefied, you came hard. You made a mess on him, yourself and your sheets.

And that was only round one.

Sukuna had near limitless stamina. 

The next morning, achy and sore, you could barely look Yuji in the eye. You were preparing to beg for his forgiveness but you quickly realized he barely remembered the party, let alone what happened after. 

In fact, it made you feel even more guilty that Yuji apologized to you. He was mad at himself for being so rough with you when he noticed the bites, bruises and marks that decorated your body thinking you both actually had sex the previous night. 

You were the worst. 

You really were the worst as truthfully, if you told him in that moment, he likely would have forgiven you then without question. 

It’s not like you alone could stop Sukuna from doing anything he wanted to you while Yuji was unaware. You were a semi-grade 1 sorcerer, strong enough for most curses, but you would be kidding yourself to think you could take on Sukuna in a fight. 

In fact wouldn’t the issue of Sukuna being able to take over Yuji’s body freely while he was unconscious be a much more pressing concern rather than how many times the curse king had made you squirt? 

Yet in spite of the danger, the logic and your better judgment, you were too ashamed to tell Yuji what really happened. 

That was because subconsciously a part of you knew it could happen again.

And it did. 

Many times.

Except for tonight. 

Sukuna had yet to make his appearance tonight. 

In fact, he hadn’t shown up in the last 5 nights in a row. The longest you had gone without his dick since he started toying with you. 

You recalled you had snapped at him after his last visit when his insults had started swaying from you to Yuji and his inability to please you. You told him never to visit you again and threatened to tell Yuji if he did. 

Honestly you didn’t expect your threats to do much. They hadn’t previously. 

As much as you wanted to be relieved that maybe Sukuna had finally grown sick of dealing with ‘Yuji’s bratty pillow princess’, a name he often called you while digging deep in your guts, you weren’t relieved at all. 

If anything it annoyed you. 

He hadn’t listened when you told him to leave you alone the first, second or third time so why now?

Why now after your cunt has started craving the burn of being stretched out by Sukuna? 

You shiver, thinking of his heavy grip on the fat of your hips. His claws would be so dangerously close to breaking your delicate skin. 

He constantly reminded you how easily he could rip you apart if he wanted to while he relentlessly clapped your cheeks from behind. 

Near salivating, you snapped your head up a little too eagerly for your own liking when you felt Yuji stir beneath you thinking it was Sukuna and more than a little disappointed when it wasn’t.  

You knew Yuji’s tender caresses should have made you melt, and it still did in a way. You were still in love with him. 

But it wasn’t until Sukuna tainted you did you realize you didn’t want to be treated like a delicate princess. 

You wanted to be manhandled. 

You wanted to be made a mess of. 

You wanted to be called names like the filthy cheating whore you were currently proving yourself to be. But Yuji was too tenderhearted to ever fuck you like you needed.

Squeezing your eyes shut as if you could block out all thoughts, you knew the reason you couldn't get to sleep was because you were horny for Sukuna. 

The higher the heat in your belly rises the more sleep becomes impossible. Your clit burned in response to the heat in your belly which made your pussy flutter as it desperately clenched around nothing and pushed some of Yuji’s cum from earlier in the night out onto your thighs.

In that moment, all your resolve was lost.

Yuji was simply the appetizer and you were a famished woman. Still left starving for the main course.

Sukuna. 

You swallow, unsure of yourself as you attempt to steel your resolve. You had already resigned yourself to the hell Sukuna put you in.

You turn your head deeper into Yuji’s chest and whisper softly against his pectorals, fingers lightly tracing his lower abs under the blankets.

“Yo…um.. Hey…Hey Sukuna… c-can you hear me?” 

Silence. 

You tried again. Nothing.

You huff, your patience waning. 

“Damnit, Sukuna!” you whisper harshly, your voice rising slightly with irritation. 

You waited more. 

The only reply you received was the rise and fall of Yuji’s chest. 

You were seeing red. 

This lame ass motherfucker. 

Was that it? Was he really done with you now after all this? 

Slowly rising off of Yuji’s chest you glare down at your boyfriend as if you could somehow scowl past his body and into his soul at Sukuna.

You quietly mutter to yourself about ‘the headass lord king of body snatching curses who gots more dick in his personality than pants’ while you shuffle over to the night stand on the side of the bed. 

You turn on the small light and dig deep into the drawers to pull out a toy you saved for nights you were particularly hard up and Yuji was out on a mission. 

Sukuna may have been ignoring you but you could no longer ignore the throbbing screaming at you between your legs. 

Maybe if you rubbed one out you could calm yourself down enough just enough to cease your anger at least. 

You needed to make an attempt to relieve yourself before you really lost your mind and did something insane like knocking the mario coins out of your sweet unsuspecting boyfriend in frustration at the curse inside of him. 

He didn’t deserve that. 

Not like he deserved any of this, the curse inside of him nor a girlfriend like you who would spread her legs so easily for a cocky smirk and a big dick.

You closed your eyes and pushed that thought aside for now. You were sweating and near shaking in need of release. 

Making yourself comfortable on the bed, you turn your vibrator on its lowest setting, so as not to disturb Yuji. 

Dragging it across your skin, you snake a path for it down past your breasts, across your belly and lower still relishing the sensations across your body. 

Licking your lips you barely ghosted your vibrator across your clit before a hand grabbed your wrist and another flung your toy across the room instantly smashing it into pieces.

“You really are a bratty fucking whore, you know that?”

The voice you immediately recognized as belonging to Sukuna. 

And how could it not be? 

It was more sultry than Yuji’s. The deep bass in his voice both teased and admonished you causing your aching clit pulsate to the rhythm of every syllable.

“As your King, I don’t recall giving you permission to touch that nasty little cunt, bitch.” 

You whined in protest and attempted to pull away but it was futile in Sukuna's grip. You could feel the fire from his touch on your wrist alone beginning to spread and torch your entire body. 

Exceeding the levels of any sexual frustration you ever knew in your life, his further denial to let you touch yourself threatened to spill the tears gathering in the corner of your eyes. 

“I don’t recall asking you, my lord,” you spat his words back at him without thinking, “I’d ask you if you knew you were a trifling asshole but we-”

And in an instant he was on top of you.

His tattooed hands now hold both of your wrists, placing them up over your head effectively caging you in and shutting you up before you could even finish your sentence. 

Your eyes widen in response to the hot snarl of his breath and the red of his glowing eyes burrowing into you. 

The reality of who exactly you just decided to sass sunk in.

Sukuna on the other hand revels in your dismay.

“‘Eh? Triflin’” he said, mocking your tone and slang. “Me? Not the filthy slut who is begging me to use her boyfriend’s body to dick her down while he is sleeping? Then you have the fucking nerve to throw temper tantrums when I don’t.”

Fuck, he had heard your insults from earlier after all.

“You think a bratty bitch like you can summon me on your whims and so address me so casually at that? I’ve killed many for far less.”

He was close now, too close. 

However, although hovering over you Sukuna still wasn’t touching you with the exception of the bruising grip on your wrists. 

Despite the lack of contact your body still responded to the suffocating amount of heat and cursed energy radiating off his own. The intense primal instincts of your fear and arousal brewing together in your body was creating a toxic reaction, one which threatened to tear you apart if Sukuna didn’t first. 

Your lip was quivering and your body was squirming beneath him. 

You are completely at his mercy once again.

“And Yuji?” Sukuna continued mockingly. 

His face dipped closer to yours and you let out the shaky breath you weren’t even aware you were holding.

“You’re so needy after he already gave you this dick tonight too? Tsk tsk, you really are a brazen n’ greedy whore.” 

He was wrong. 

Not about you being a whore, of course.  You couldn’t deny that fact even if you wanted to at the moment. 

But he was wrong by implying it was the same as if you were with Yuji.

When Sukuna took over, except for facial similarities, he was all but a different person. 

Sukuna was taller, more muscular and thicker in all areas, his cock not being excluded from that. The tattoos that decorated his body and bound his dangerous muscles caused him to look more intimidating than Yuji ever could. 

Even his scent was different. It was almost as threatening as his presence and was intoxicatingly masculine, more alpha.  

You knew fighting him further was a losing battle. But you were still mad at him for ignoring you.

Nevertheless, he was here in front of you now. 

You were so close to getting what you wanted. If you had to give up more of your dignity at this point then so be it, you didn’t have much left to covet anyway. 

Completely surrendering yourself to him like the little bitch in heat that you were, you appeal to his ego in hopes he would fuck you.

“If you know I’m a whore then just fuck me like one already Sukuna. My King… please? Pretty please? I-I need you. Make me cum please.”, your saccharine tone contrasted with your depraved pleas coming out like a twisted prayer. 

You humbled yourself and hated it. It broke the tears of frustration that had built in your eyes. 

Moisture spilled down the sides of your face, yet you blinked through them in order to maintain eye contact with him. 

The desperation that called to him from every fiber of your being was apparent to Sukuna, his smirk widening at your distress. 

Releasing your hands in favor of your neck, a hand enclosed it applying pressure as he licked a tear trail down the side of your face.

“Tch, Even when desperate and begging you still can’t help but to be an insolent brat”, he whispered, blowing warm air into you that made you tingle.

That’s when you felt his tongue salaciously lick into your ear before pulling back to bite and suck at your lobe and neck, leaving more marks for you to try to cover in the morning.

The full weight of Sukuna’s naked body was now pressed upon yours. You whimpered as he had finally granted you the contact you craved for.  

You could feel his heavy cock begin to twitch on your belly. You panted as you arched up into him, rubbing against his form creating beautiful friction between you both sending you into euphoria. 

But as quickly as the contact was given, it was taken away.

“You should know by now, Y/N.... Disobedient brats need to be punished.”

Part 2

This was originally supposed to be a one-shot but it got a little out of control with writing the lewd scenes. Part 2 is almost done and is FILTHY omg. I will try to post by tomorrow night or Saturday. (updated as of 9/12).

Lol also for anyone who doesn't know Reggae Punch is actually a popular drink in Japan. I did not make that up. It really doesn't have much alcohol content in it at all. But I LOL'd at Gojo tricking them into drinking Jungle Juice cause its literally night and day.

Also imo, Nanami and his salaryman vibe you know would win a drinking contest out of any JJK man so thats canon to me (excluding Toji as according to official fanbook alcohol has zero effect on him so he doesn't even drink it).

Any mistakes please DM, no rude or criticizing comments please.

P.S. I promise I don't hate Yuji.

Reblogs, likes, comments appreciated!!

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀ���ɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ.

[house-of-lovin]

legally binded - 5

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part

Chapter 5: Strobe Lights and a Strong Drink

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: Oof, what do you guys think? Thanks for reading and all the support guys!

Word Count: 6k+

Shit.

She kissed you.

She didn’t know why she kissed you.

Her fingers trembled even when you were gone minutes later. She brought the shaky fingers up to touch her burning lips, ignoring her sisters’ amused yet quizzical stares.

This whole week with you at her parents house has been nothing short of blissful. It was almost like domestic how you two acted around her family. Unspoken touches and longing stares.

She doesn’t know what to make of it.

All she knows is when she turned to wish you luck, her stomach churned at how delicately you were looking at her.

But before Jenna can think on it some more, her sisters are pulling her away to find a good spot for your performance; Mia, asking passersby which stage people had flocked to.

You didn’t tell her who you were performing with so they didn’t know where to go. Jenna had forgotten to ask.

“Do you know what time she’s going on stage?” Aliyah asks, holding the actress's hand firmly.

“No…” Jenna replied.

“Okay, do you at least know which stage?” Mia asked.

“No.”

“Do you guys ever talk or do you just share silent looks all day?” Mia sighs, fishing for her phone.

Jenna blushes. “I’ll text Link and ask.”

—

She’s buzzing with excitement but she’s impatient. It’s been two hours since you left her.

Jenna keeps sending texts asking when you are coming out to perform but of course, all you do is tease.

You: Stop being impatient, you’ll see soon ;)

Jenna isn’t sure if her suspicions are true but people around her are talking about a surprise guest for Metro Boomin’s set but she doesn’t remember having heard if you had worked with the producer before.

This could be the song you were working tirelessly over this last week.

“Do you think it’s Y/N?” Aliyah asks, peeking her head past the others in the crowd.

They can practically feel the excitement as the music pumps loudly through the gigantic stage.

“I’m not sure.” Jenna shouts, “This is a good set though!”

“Yeah!” Her sister agreed, pulling her to dance. 

The cheers get louder when the song finishes, setting up to transition to the next one; the crowd is amped with anticipation. 

“Everyone, give it up for The Weeknd!”

The crowd explodes as he comes out in an all-white jumpsuit and blacked-out sunglasses.

“Give it up  for Metro Boomin, Coachella!” He praises as he comes out; talking to the crowd as they cheer audibly.

Jenna feels disappointed that it wasn’t you but is still excited when she sees the familiar face. Her sister Mia is practically jumping in her spot, he's one of her favourite artists.

“Jen, come on!” Mia laughs, tugging her closer to the stage, smiling largely.

She fights the urge to pull out her phone and text you again.

10 minutes go by of The Weeknd performing and Jenna’s enjoying herself; forgetting about you for a moment as she dances with her sisters; taking pictures and videos; allowing the music to consume her.

The Weeknd performs well and the crowd is evidently loving him.

Eventually, the music quiets down and the singer starts speaking.

“Can we play some new shit for a second, Coachella?” The crowd screams, excited to be the first to hear a new song. “Alright… then make some noise for Y/N motherfucking L/N.”

A synthesized deep reverberating beat drops and strobe lights flash blindingly in Jenna's eyes making her squint as you ascend through a cloud of thick fog from backstage.

Her jaw drops.

When Jenna gets clear sight of you, she knew you were a sight to behold. "Wow..."

The outfit you are wearing hung off your figure so well and so tight that Jenna wouldn’t be surprised if she was drooling. The heeled boots paired with it give you height accentuating the rest of your clothes well. You changed your hair and makeup and suddenly she understands why everyone she has spoken to has been enamoured by you.

“Woah…” Aliyah trails off, in awe and then turns to her sister with an amused smirk watching her sister's comically enormous round eyes as she continued to stare at you.

You looked like a superstar on that stage.

At first, she thought Link called you that as a joke but as she watched you walk to centre stage, she understood why.

You start singing and Jenna thinks she can pass away now. She can barely hear you as the crowd starts freaking out when seeing you. A sea of phones are immediately pulled out to capture the rare moment of you on stage. Jenna feels like the ground is shaking as the crowd gets ridiculously noisier the longer you sang the unfamiliar words along with the melody.

The beat drops again and Jenna watches as you bounce around on stage with the largest smile plastered on your face as you expertly performed with the other singer.

That's when Jenna felt it.

She knew it then.

Fuck.

She’s so screwed.

—

“Thank you so much for having me Coachella! It's been such a blast!” The crowd screamed thunderously prompting you to painfully clutch your in-ears when you hear just how deafening the audience was now that the backing track wasn't playing.

“Oh shit,” You wince.

You feel loved as you look at the vast and far ocean of blinding lights. This feeling never gets old. It’s been a while since you’ve been on stage; taking a step back to focus on film. When your good friend asked you to do a surprise performance, there was no way you were going to say no.

“You killed it!” Abel laughs in your ear, planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Thanks!” You say bashfully, leaning into the embrace.

“Everyone, give it up for the King of Coachella and Metro Boomin!” You praise, pulling away to yell into the mic, smiling wide and large. 

For a hopeful moment, you scan the crowd, trying to find Jenna knowing she’s watching you somewhere.

Somehow, you spot her past the masses immediately. 

Like a moth to a flame, you find her through the faceless crowd. Jenna had her hands cupped around her mouth as she cheered for you, trying to peek her head above the others.  She drops her hands, landing back on the balls of her feet when you make eye contact and just smiled at you proudly.

As if time stops; you and her just stare at each other for a couple of seconds.

Longer than usual.

Longer than necessary for this PR relationship.

You have no doubts that videos of you and Jenna’s stare-off will be trending by tonight when you see people swinging their arms to pan between you and the other actress when they see your line of sight.

Briefly, you hear mutterings of people in the front row saying Jenna’s name and pointing; getting louder.

You blink, realizing where you were and wave goodbye one last time, steadily springing off stage — itching to get all the eyes off of you.

“That was great Y/N!” Link smiles, hugging you immediately. “Did you hear how loud the crowd was? Holy shit!”

“Thanks, Link… and yeah that was crazy.” You laughed appreciatively, the high of performing and having tens of thousands of eyes on you was starting its comedown. “Come on, I’m dying to get these boots off… no matter how pretty they are.”

“Don’t let your stylist hear that. She was excited about the boots — talked my ear off for 10 minutes.” He rolled his eyes, leading you to a tent backstage.

You follow him, ducking and nodding your head in appreciation as people cheer and compliment your performance.

“Yeah, she does that.” You chuckle.

“So what was that?” He asks lowly.

“What?”

“That kiss.” He looks at you sternly.

“Oh. I’m not sure. She just pulled me in.” You answer honestly, not really having the words to describe it yet.

You’ve been pulled left and right as you got ready for the performance.

“Can you sound anymore like a guy? Give me details how was it?” He leans in.

“I—I don’t know.”

“What do you mean I don’t know. She kissed you! That has to mean something! Maybe you two can finally say goodbye to all that weird silent pining you guys have going on.” He wrinkled his nose in memory of how often he caught the two of you staring into each other’s eyes or swinging hands as you walked in tandem.

The two of you are the very definition of oblivious.

“It’s not pining.”

“Call it whatever you want.”

You sigh, “I don’t really know what it means, Link. It’s just a kiss, it might not mean anything to her..”

“To her?” He takes special note.

You roll your eyes, swinging open the flap of the tent. “Yes for her.”

“What did it mean for you, then?” He turns his back to face the wall as you rapidly change.

“Why do you care so much? When was the last time you were on a date?” You huff; tugging the leather boots off your feet. “Did you try that dating app I told you about? I promise it won’t be like last time.”

“Don’t change the subject.” He growled deeply.

You’re no longer allowed to set him up on dates after that experience.

Huffing, you give in, “I’m not really sure what it meant to me, yet. It all happened so fast but… I don’t think I hated it.”

“Mhm.” You were like a toddler learning to walk. He had to slowly coax you as you learn to do things; like talk about your feelings. “So, what do you wanna do?”

“Do? Nothing, why would I do something?”

“God, you’re dense.”

“Dude!” You throw your hands up.

He rolls his eyes, “Yes, you should do something! Did you not see the way she was looking at you?” He asks confused. 

How did you not see how you two looked at each other?

“I–I, maybe. But I don’t wanna read into it.” You admit. 

“That look from her seemed like it meant something, I don’t know.”

“What? No way.” You wave off, despite your heart darting wildly in your chest at his words.

You don't want to get your hopes up.

“Dude, I’m this close to knocking you out. I don’t care who you are.” You hear his loud puff echo in the room. “Why is the thought of being with Jenna so bad to you? You guys are practically acting like you’re together – you’ve been sharing a bed with the girl when there’s a whole mansion here in the Valley for you. You even started doing chores around her parent’s house Y/N... In all my years of knowing you, you have never even turned on the dishwasher at home. Be honest with yourself for once, really.”

“How do you know about the chores?” You peek your head out the divider, sending him a confused look.

“Jenna… who else. We talk, you know.” He says, back still facing you.

“What do you guys talk about?” 

“None of your concern.”

You rolled your eyes, sighing out long and tired.

“We’re both so busy all the time, there’s no way it’ll work. Do you remember the last person I tried to date? I don’t want that with Jenna. ” Link shudders; he‘s had his fair share of close calls with filing a restraining order… given your history of flings and relationships.

“They’re all either psycho or it just ends up crashing in flames. I don’t want to have to show up at an award show and awkwardly smile at Jenna, pretending like I don’t know her. Or have a song or movie made about me.. again. I knew this PR stunt was bad news.” You shove your head in the t-shirt, feeling much more comfortable in the soft, loose fabric.

“Okay, you don't mean that. Don’t you think you’re –I don’t know–overthinking this a little? Also, I don’t see Jenna as the songwriting type. Maybe an essay about you?”

“Are you done?” You scoffed at the timing of his joke, stepping out from the wall divider. “Also, I think what I said was very reasonable.”

“I’m just saying, maybe she’s different.”

“I doubt it.” Much like your lyrics; you were just as much a pessimist.

But you know you’re lying — you felt instantly just how different she is from anyone you’ve ever met before.

You just didn’t know it could develop into… this.

Even through thousands of people, you managed to find her from that stage. 

Jenna has an omnipotent pull on you that was getting harder to evade.

Something tells you the harder you try to yank away, the tighter the leash will start to feel.

You hated feeling suffocated.

“Y/N.” He says disapprovingly. “You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t know, maybe I do.” You try to appear indifferent; looking away from your best friend to find the matching sweater to your pants.

“Hey. I’m serious. Don’t shut yourself out from the potential of something good just because you’re a little scared.”

“That’s not what I’m doing, Link.” You grow annoyed.

When were you going to get some time for yourself? Without someone questioning you or bombarding you?

"Really? Cause it sounds to me like you're a little scared. I mean, think about it. How different would it be if you two actually dated? Everyone already thinks you're together and you've already been travelling apart for work. Not to mention... you two already act like a couple. It's crazy that you don't see it."

"What?" You look at him bewildered. "No, we don't. It's all for the cameras."

"Dude, it's me. Who are you trying to bullshit? Even Enrique won't stop talking about you two. And you know that guy’s around Jenna all the time.”

You scoff, "That—that doesn't mean anything."

"Please, " He holds a hand up, "I can't handle this today, I'm clocking out. Jenna can deal with you now." Then turns and walks out of the tent.

You huff, not wanting to think about his words.

You could play the fool and say that you have no idea what he's talking about. But you see the longing glances from the other actress.

You pretended not to notice her stares when you were around her family this past week. When her dad was complaining about his car not starting so you offered to look at it for him; a chance for you to get to know her dad a little more (if people asked you, his constant silence still kinda scared you). Or when you were the only one who could get her niece to calm down after fussing that one afternoon. Or when you played basketball with her brother Markus – trying desperately not to trash-talk and cuss out the young, competitive teen.

You get the point, she was always watching and you’re not dumb. You definitely see it; the little hairs on the back of your neck always stand when she’s near. Like your own version of Spidey-senses but with… Jenna. But that doesn't mean anything? 

The two of you are at her parent’s house – she’s bound to be around.

Maybe she was drunk? You did order some cocktails throughout the night and she’d begged you for a couple of sips — even offering to hold it for you when you saw some friendly faces amidst the crowd. You may have indulged her. Hey, she's drank before, you know she can handle her alcohol.

Yeah, that has to be it right? Just the high of the crowd and the buzz of a strong drink.

You certainly felt like you needed one if you had to face Jenna soon.

Walking over to the bottle of tequila gifted to you by the producer’s team, you pop the top off and grab a shot glass. You pour yourself a generous shot and immediately down it, wincing at the burn it leaves in your throat.

You pour another one and another one before you feel like you've had enough — you're taking too long in here.

"Hey, there you are!" Jenna's voice exclaimed behind you after the sound of a tarp being pulled open.

You turn, surprised, still holding the shot glass and bottle of Don Julio 1942.

She perks a brow up, amused. "Celebrating alone?"

"We live alone—"

"We die alone. Orson Welles. Somebody to Love." She cuts in.

"Snob." You laugh then turned and grabbed another glass. "Want one? I won't tell."

"Yes." Jenna grinned and walked closer. "Why does no one ever talk about the second part of that quote?"

"There's a second part?" You wrinkled your nose in confusion.

"Yeah, only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone." Jenna quotes, grabbing the shot you held out for her.

"Oh... that's sweet I guess." You place the bottle down, turning to her; ignoring the added meaning behind her words.

"Yeah, it's one of my favourite quotes." Jenna clinks glasses with you.

"Salud." You raise the glass, tap the table and then take the shot heartily.

"You're a dork." Jenna coughs out, wincing at the burn.

"It's customary, darling." You reply teasingly, pulling out a posh English accent.

Jenna laughs a little too hard at your joke, crinkling her nose. "Is that the Little Women accent?"

You blink, taken aback. "You've seen my movie?"

Jenna reddens. "Yeah..." coughing, "like five times. It got you an Oscar nomination."

"That's cute." You grin, heart practically leaping out of your chest.

"I thought I was supposed to find you?" You remembered.

“You were taking too long… and there’s a steady crowd waiting to congratulate you outside but... I wanted to be the first one.” She looks down, kicking the carpet with her booted toe. 

You grinned, “You liked it?”

She glanced up, laughing, “Liked it? You were amazing! The crowd was so loud, I definitely lost some of my hearing… I think my Mia and Aliyah might even want you as a sister instead.”

You laugh, shrugging. “Thank you, Jenna… but nah, I think the one they got is pretty cool too. They’re lucky to have you.”

She smiles up at you. And like earlier, you find yourself getting lost in her soft, kind eyes. You two have come a long way since that first meeting…

A part of you thinks, how it feels nice to have someone waiting for you backstage after a performance. Someone that doesn't work for you.

"Hey, so um— are we gonna talk about it?" You gain the courage to ask. Usually, you'd beat around the bush, hating confrontation. You're probably the first person to take a hike at the sign of an inconvenience. But this is Jenna.

Your Jenna.

She had kissed you.

Somethings you can brush off and forget, but not this. You find yourself not wanting to do so, so easily either. Something tells you that it's a memory that'll stick with you for a while, if not forever.

You could probably get Alzheimer's and you still won't forget you and Jenna under the strobe lights and rip-roaring crowd.

A tiny part of you held onto the hope that she’d say she meant it but you would never say that out loud.

"Yeah, I guess we should. Um— did you hate it?" She bit her lip in question.

"Did you?" You cowardly cop-out.

She rolls her eyes, smiling a bit but taking the bait and stepping closer to you. "Not really no..."

"Me too." You blurted and Jenna looks pleased.

"Good." Stepping closer. "Do you think, we can, I don’t know maybe do it again?" She whispers, looking up at you.

"Maybe..." You breathe out; arms stiff by your sides as she leans into your personal space.

"Maybe?" She cocks a coy brow, smirking. "You gonna make me work for it?"

She runs her fingers up your hands to your arm to your shoulder before resting them on your neck. A trail of goosebumps litters your skin.

You bit your lip, not missing how her eyes followed your movements. "I—uh,"

"What? Did I finally make you speechless?" She scrapes her nails against the back of your neck as her other hand rested on your stomach anchoring herself. "If I knew all it had to take was kissing you to shut you up I would've done it a long ti—"

You cut her gloating off, pushing your lips firmly to hers; tightly gripping her sheer button-down shirt. You pray a thousand blessings come to whoever bought this shirt for her because the way her skin burned through the fabric had you clutching her tighter than ever.

She groans against the sudden pressure but melts against you; pulling you down by the hand on your neck; kissing you back. Jenna tilts her head to the side, allowing you to slip your tongue past her lips and into her mouth.

When you traced your hand down her back relishing the way she shuddered under the touch — you made sure to stop and toy with the hook of her bra, just teasing before shamelessly moving your hand on her waist; lower than what should be considered modest for a second kiss.

But you don't care because Jenna is in your arms, kissing you back with the same intensity and for the first time, you feel all the tension between you and her fizzle away.

Like two teenagers who finally managed to find some time alone —she's slotting her leg in between yours making you flinch back.

"Mhmm. Jen not here." You mumble against her lips.

"Sorry, sorry. I got carried away." She blinks, unwrapping herself from you.

You laugh, tugging her closer. "I didn't say move."

Jenna gulps at your tone, feeling flushed. "Okay..."

"We should definitely talk about this though, right?" You sighed, leaning your head on top of hers. Jenna leans into your chest.

"Yeah probably. But this is nice too." She wraps her arms around your waist. She decides she likes the way the curves of your waist made a perfect mould for her arms to rest on.

She looks up, chin on your chest to link eyes. "Maybe it can wait until we're home? My sisters are still waiting outside..."

You look down at her, gently smiling. "Yeah, at home."

Your heart skips a beat.

"Okay." She pulls herself away; linking hands to tug you outside.

But she stops walking just before she can open the flap, promptly spinning on her toes and pulling you down to kiss you again. You only hear her satisfied sighs fanning against your skin.

Then she's pulling away too fast for your liking. "Now we can go."

You can't help but grin ear to ear at that.

—

“The Weeknd, really? I guessed him.” She grumbles from beside you as you two walk back to her sisters.

"I told you, he's a friend. We’re working on some of the soundtrack for his new HBO show." You chuckle, swinging your arm over her shoulder to link hands and tugging her close; wanting to feel closer to the young actress.

"The Idol?" She perks up, having heard about the show.

"Mhmm. Just the music." You hum and Jenna wants to laugh at how nonchalant you sound. How did you have time to do music, act and play your part in this PR relationship? "I composed the arrangement of the song."

"What? That's so cool, I actually want to get into composing." She mentions excitedly.

"You're gonna have to come by the studio sometime then, maybe I can show you a couple of things." You grin, eyes tinged with interest.

"Maybe... but don't change the subject, I guessed The Weeknd." She squeezes your hand, mulling over the idea.

"What do you want? A reward?" You chuckle.

"Yes." She mutters.

"Okay. What would you like? I have a lot to offer?" You say teasingly as you approach her sisters.

But Jenna doesn’t say anything, just takes her free hand and wraps it around your neck to pull you down; connecting your lips in another sensible kiss. You couldn’t fight the sigh that leaves your nose when you feel her tilt her head to the side; deepening the kiss.

Multiple bright flashes breaks your moment.

"Mia! Aliyah!" Jenna glares as they keep smiling.

"What?" Mia asks pretending to sound confused, "Oh shit, these are kinda cute, Jenna you might want this."

Jenna grumbles under her breath, embarrassed and tugged you along to stand a fair distance away from her sisters and closer to the stage.

"Send me those!" You manage to yell before she pulls you out of earshot.

"You two are a match made in heaven." She stands in front of you, leaning against your chest with your arms wrapped around her waist— like before you were pulled away from her to perform.

"Is that jealousy I hear, Ortega? I already told you, there's only one that I care enough to impress. You place your head over her shoulder tugging her close.

Not even the humid desert heat can keep you from wanting to feel closer to the other actress. Jenna seems to be just as comfortable as you so you don't pull away.

"Mhmm. Just checking." She traces a finger over the arm steadily wrapped around her midsection; sending shivers down your spine.

—

“A wedding dress?” You perk up, scanning yourself in the mirror. The Prada x Thom Browne custom gown made just for you made you feel like a Disney princess; hints of gothic design and golden tassels hung haphazardly on the train of dress as it’s still in its work-in-progress stage.

“Mhmm.” Your stylist mumbles, watching the fabric flow down your figure. “With its own flair, this is just the base of the dress. We’ll be adding more details to match the theme.”

“It’s stunning but why this?” You ask, twirling on the podium making the seamstress and tailor scowl beside you.

“To match Jenna, darling, what else for?” She says like you’re stupid — which in hindsight, you might be. But hey, it’s been a long week.

"What is she wearing?" You couldn't help but ask.

She snorts an obnoxious laugh, "Nice try sweetie. You'll see what she wears on the day. Thom would also kill me.”

"I thought you worked for me." You grumbled.

“Not for the Met — I don’t. I’ve seen that tiny girl’s wrath. I’ll deal with you over her.”

After Coachella weekend, there was no 'going home' and 'talking about it' with Jenna because you were already being pulled by Link in the other direction by the end of the night. Telling you about how you need to drive back to L.A. to pack for New York, once again.

Sometimes you felt like you were living most of your life on planes.

This meant you had to leave Jenna (and your dog with her) behind in California as you prepare for the annual fashion gala — where this year, you were tasked with the honour of co-hosting among a panel of other stars and Anna Wintour.

Jenna made sure to send you daily updates on their daily walks. You might have saved a couple of those photos… but as of the last few days, you hadn’t heard from the other actress.

"Now go, Link wants you back in your hotel room to go over your duties for the Met." She holds your hand as you step off the podium. The rest of your fashion team scattered off to their own respective corners; taking notes.

"Thank you, darling. It's always a pleasure to work with you." You say appreciatively.

"The pleasure is all mine." She kisses both of your cheeks before ushering you to a room to change.

—

“Hey, you gotta see this.” Link says as soon as you walk into your hotel suite.

“What is it now?” You ask, sliding in to see what he was looking at.

‘Y/N caught with cocaine? Rumours of a possible arrest. Will this be the end of this young star’s career?’

“How did they find out about the coke?” You grabbed the phone out of his hands, re-reading the article for a possible source.

“Not sure. But Liv has her suspicions. She said she’s looking into it and not to worry. Lawyers are saying they don’t have basis to charge you. Some people don’t believe it but you know, people love to stir shit up.” He watches your creased forward. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“How can I not worry about it? They’re drug allegations, lawyers are involved. Jake said that part wouldn’t get out to the press because they weren’t mine. He promised.” You give the phone back to him and start pacing the room.

“Hey, hey. Jake and Liv are handling it and Sarah is already in talks of tracking down whoever the possible source is.”

“Sarah… Sarah’s involved.” You mutter.

“Yeah? This kinda affects Jenna too.” He shrugs.

“Fuck. Fuck Jenna knows…” Your eyes widen in realization. Is this why she hasn’t reached out?

The two of you haven’t had time to talk these last few days. She’s been busy with her family and her Dior event while you’ve been on the East Coast prepping for the MET.

Does she know?

“I’m not sure. But if Sarah is involved. Good chances are… Jenna’s heard about it ‘cause she’s been warned.”

“Fuck.” You groan into your hands.

“Does Jenna not know?” Link asks confused.

“I don’t know what she knows, to be honest. I think she might have heard about the coke in the beginning but Jake and Liv made sure to keep that part under wraps. Only my drunken disorderly got out to the press. I–I’m not sure if Jenna ever knew it was true…”

“Y/N, it’s okay. It’s Jenna. I’m sure she’ll understand once you two get a chance to talk.” He places his hand on your shoulder.

“I don’t want to talk about that night, Jake. Especially not with her. It’s not exactly my best moment…”

“Well… I feel like she’s gonna have questions, regardless.” He walks off to the kitchen.

You head to your room to nap away the bad news you just got.

Met Gala duties can wait.

—

“You'll look great beside Jenna."

“Where is she, Enrique?” You tugged on the base of the dress.

“In her room.” He plainly answers, brushing down any wrinkles.

“Can I see her? I need to talk to her.”

His eyes flicker up to you, stopping his fretting. You don’t miss the slight judgment in his eyes. “No can do. She’s still getting ready.”

“I thought we were walking the carpet together?"

“You are. But you’ll see her when she’s done getting ready.”

“Are you mad at me or something?” You couldn’t help but ask, making your makeup artist stop for a moment.

He flicks a brow up, “It’s not my place to be mad at you. You should talk to Jenna.”

“What does that mean?” You furrow your brows.

“Like I said, just talk to her. She’ll be ready in a bit. Meet us on her floor.” Then he walks off

You sighed.

“You’re good to go, hun.” Your glam team confirms.

Eventually, your team trickles out one by one leaving you with a moment to yourself. Closing your eyes, you lean back against your chair and let out a heavy sigh.

You really wanted to talk to Jenna before tonight’s gala.

The news of your ‘possible arrest’ and ‘charges’ is abuzz all over the internet and social media.

It seems like whoever leaked that you were caught with coke made you public enemy number one on certain news outlets, once again.

But people on the internet have differing opinions. Some make fun of the situation, some defend you, and some are outright bashing you.

You’ve deactivated various social media’s, only keeping your Instagram to check on Jenna and her family’s posts from Coachella weekend, but your comments are limited.

The slew of hate you've been hit with from randoms is overwhelming despite you not caring about their thoughts on your life and the way you chose to live it.

There's only so much you can take when the first thing you read when you open social media is your name.

But, you’ve been so swamped with rehearsals and duties as a host that you couldn’t even greet the other actress when she landed. By the time you made it back to your hotel room in the dead of night, you didn’t feel you should disturb Jenna’s much-needed rest — knowing she’s a bit of an insomniac.

“Hey, I just got the okay. We’re good to go. We can meet Jenna.” Link pops his head through the door breaking you out of your thoughts.

You open your eyes, and sighed, taking your time to get up making Link raise his brow. “Hey, it’ll be okay.”

He reassures you once you stepped out of the door, holding the lavish train of your dress behind you.

“Yeah…” You mutter distantly, bunching your dress up with one hand to walk to the elevator.

When you make it to Jenna’s floor your hands begin to perspire. Enrique’s words from earlier ringing loudly in your ears, he definitely made it sound like Jenna was mad at you.

She was right, you do jump to conclusions.

You force yourself to take a calm, deep breath as you wait for her door to open; nervously tapping your high-heeled foot on the carpet.

When the door creaks open, your eyes are snapping to it immediately.

“Wow…” You do a double-take, with a wide-eyed goggle — taking a step back to admire her custom tuxedo dress.

“Thanks…” She tucks a hair behind her ear, glancing down shyly.

“Jenna… I mean it, you look— wow. I mean—“ You stutter embarrassingly. 

In all your ears as a performer, you have never been so tongue-tied. What is this girl doing to you?

Even Enrique couldn’t help but laugh behind her, easing the tension as Jenna just flicks an amused brow at you, despite her reddening cheeks.

Clearing your throat, attempting to hide your unabashed staring, “Sorry, I just mean— you look beautiful.”

“Thank you… so do you.” She muttered gingerly.

“You like it? It’s a little on the nose.” It was your turn to blush as you glanced between your outfit and hers — a bride and groom. You try not to put too much meaning on the implication.

“It was my idea, actually.” She admitted.

“Really?” You asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” She steps out, walking ahead of you. “It’ll be great for the press.”

That word was starting to grind your gears whenever it left her mouth.

You frowned as she walked further away.

"Can we talk? I need to tell you something." You slide in next to her.

Damn her and those heels.

"Not now, Y/N," Jenna whispers coldly, sparing you a warning look.

"It's important Jenn���"

"Y/N. I'm serious. Don't make things worse." She says with certainty that made you slightly afraid but knowing when to keep your mouth shut has never been your strong suit.

"You know... about the article." You trail off, unsure how you feel.

"Of course. I know, Y/N. God." She rolls her eyes and walks into the elevator.

You keep your head down and shove yourself into the opposite corner of the metal box; not wanting to be close to the other actress as you attempt to cool down.

She really believed a gossip article?

When the door opens, you couldn’t help but slide in beside her. “And you really believe it? Over me?”

She sighed, pulling you aside to a secluded corner and let both of your teams walk ahead; ignoring their prying eyes.

“I don’t know what to believe Y/N.”

You scoff, brows furrowing, “Me… believe me, Jenna.”

“How?” She says bluntly and you feel your heart drop at her tone and how sure she sounded about her accusations. 

You know you’re the farthest from a saint. Did what you do warrant this reaction from her? 

Maybe. 

But you felt like you should still be able to explain your side.

She takes your stunned silence as a prompt to keep talking.

“This is what you do. You run away from things until it catches up to you. We’ve spent the last few months by each other sides and you never brought up the—“She takes a deep breath, glancing around wearily, “Coke… so you tell me Y/N, what should I believe? ‘Cause it feels like you haven’t been upfront with me.”

“Upfront with you–” You laugh resentfully.

“Guys, we gotta go!” Link yells before you can give in to your rising anger.

I guess you know where you stand with her. 

“We—We’ll talk about it later,” Jenna sighs, hanging her head low as if she were tired.

Deep breath...

“Don’t bother. Point made."

“What was that?” Link asks, holding his elbow out for you to take as you walked away from the other actress.

“My answer.” You mumbled, bitterly.

Maybe she is just like the rest of them.

–

not even sorry about it…

(fun fact: my @ is a play-off of House of Balloons by The Weeknd)🫢

-

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-

[tmntxthings]

Author’s notes: short lil drabble ish cause i don’t ever remember writing leo as a yandere, have i only ever done donnie???

Warnings: yandere tendencies, stalking, implied murder, intimidation, gaslighting, manipulation, unedited

Song: House of Balloons/Glass Table Girls by The Weeknd

—————————————————————————

Yandere!Leonardo who is tired of watching you. He’s itching to talk to you. To have your eyes finally recognize the shadow that follows after you. For that attention you give so freely to be his. No one else should matter, you’re his whole world. It’s only fair if he becomes yours in return.

Yandere!Leonardo who seamlessly enters your life like it wasn’t pre-meditated. Like he hadn’t planned every minute detail. He was meticulous when it came to you. Think of him as your knight in shining armor. Come to him with all your troubles.

Yandere!Leonardo who fixes all of those issues that you have. Your neighbors in the apartment aren’t as loud anymore, actually you haven’t heard them fighting for a couple nights now. They must’ve made up or maybe even broke up! Either way it didn’t matter to you, finally you could get a good nights rest.

Yandere!Leonardo who starts draping himself over you. You guys are friends now. Friends touch! It takes some getting used to, but don’t worry it’ll be second nature soon. Don’t think too much about it. His frame leaning into yours, his arms going over your shoulders. He’s tired, he stayed up too late again. Won’t you let him rest against you for a little while? He’ll even close his eyes.

Yandere!Leonardo who thought he had taken care of all your little love interests. But he portals over unannounced only to hear you gushing about this new guy, someone from your finance class. He creeps closer to your bedroom door, it’s cracked open, just a sliver. He peers through to see you bouncing around, jumping on your bed to kick your feet out happily.

Yandere!Leonardo whose eyes grow cold as the phone call hangs up. Words of encouragement were given to you. To finally go after a crush since the last couple had gone so horribly. He thinks this kind of puppy love isn’t good for you. Why can’t you just catch on already? Does he have to spell it out for you?

The door creaks open.

You lurch up, smile disappearing from your face.

So does your flush. You look ashen now.

Maybe it was because he had a sword out.

He’d never pointed one towards you.

Despite his weapon now facing you, he tilts his head and tries for a smile. It’s strained, his eyes looking at you with barely restrained mania. It’s been hard keeping his true self hidden from you. The side that wants to whisk you away and keep you from the rest of the world. No one else deserves you. Your happiness. Your smiles. Your attention, that was all his.

“You belong to me.”

—————————————————————————

[lisired]

keep on

pairing: johnny x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, angst, non-idol au, fwb!johnny, alcohol consumption, mentions of addiction/alcoholicism, daddy issues, mommy issues, unprotexted sex (dont b silly wrap ur willy!)

summary: All things love and commitment are feared upon by you. You keep a tight crew and let few people in, cynical of other’s intentions and leaving a trail of broken hearts in your wake. If you break other people’s hearts first, they can’t break yours. And yet, it was all too easy falling for Johnny, digging yourself into a depthless hole of love. But he is no exception to your heartache games.

word count: 13.6k

a/n: this was a pretty quick write. inspired by keep on by kehlani, garden (say it like dat) by sza and off the table by ariana grande featuring the weeknd. have fun reading <3 feedback is appreciated!

Through the blurry lenses of your eyes, love was a synonym for heartbreak.

It happened everyday. People gave people their all and in return, they received nothing but brutal agony. You had seen it happen and experienced the heartache firsthand.

Like when your father left your mother. And thus, the baby they had brought into this world together. It stung like nothing else to watch what became of your mother, drowning her sorrows in liquor. She was never the same.

Perhaps she had passed her bad habits down to you. The apple never falls far from the tree, they say.

Irene’s house was your deemed safe haven for the night. It was Friday and you were having a girl’s night out, but given the gruesome work week everyone had, no one wanted to truly go out.

You strutted inside and collapsed against her island, dropping your purse on the surface. “Get me drunk,” you sighed, tired beyond imagination. Not to mention the text message creeping in your mind.

Yeri giggled and slid you a glass. She had already been drinking, you could tell. She got all bubbly when tipsy. She reached for a bottle, and said, “Irene’s getting the good shit. She’ll be right back.”

They got the bottles and poured the glasses. When they were empty, you didn’t hesitate to fill them up again. There was no doubt that the next morning would bring you a terrible hangover, though you wanted to drink like there was no tomorrow.

You wanted to forget everything. Forget men. Forget the way that they all hurt you. Fuck that, you didn’t even want to remember what hurt was or meant.

They were nothing but trouble.

As the hours ticked by, less and less of your sullenness was masked by your inebriety. It became evident that there was something plaguing your mind. You sat slumped on the couch, bitter.

Irene sat beside you when the coast was clear. The girls had either passed out or gone back home if they were sober enough. But you were seated on her sofa, reeking of depression.

“We can always talk about it, you know,” Irene said softly. She grabbed your hand and let you rest your head on her lap. “It might make you feel better to open up.”

You shook your head and quipped dryly, “And ruin your perfect girl’s night? I thought the point was to de-stress.”

Irene gave you a faint smile and patted your head gently. She was one of the few people who knew the extent of trauma you dealt with. Your every secret was kept under lock and key but she protected them with her whole heart. Irene cared for you, that was undeniable. All things considered, she was like a mother to you. But you depended on no one but yourself and you hated seeming weak. Even if you were.

Besides, there was a time and a place, and this was neither. Ranting about your daddy issues wasn’t the point of tonight. It was to clear your head. Nothing good came out of recalling the irreversible damage your father had inflicted upon your broken family.

I’m sorry. Let me make things right, the text you received read. It made you feel a fusion of emotion - anger, sadness, confusion, disgust. What he did, upping and leaving, was unforgivable. It was a sin.

He broke your family. There was nothing he could do or say to make things right, to mend the shattered pieces. If he wanted to leave then he should have stayed gone. He had no right to try to come and intrude years later. He didn’t get to pick and choose when he could be in your life.

Irene was firm when she told you, “I’m here for you whenever you need me. I know you like to think that you don’t need anyone, that opening up makes you vulnerable, but being vulnerable is okay. I’m not going to attack you for being human and having the feelings you push away.”

Right in the heart - that was where her words always hit you. Irene had a habit of always being right, even if the truth hurt. Even if you desperately wanted her to be wrong. And yet, she never was.

But your lips were sealed. It was too much. Irene could try and soothe you, but even she couldn’t always break you. She sighed, but had another solution.

Irene lifted your head off of her lap and stood, rummaging for her keys. You stared at her with confusion. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you to Johnny’s. No buts. If there’s anyone that can get you to open up, it’s him, and the very last thing that you need to be in this state is alone.”

Your eyes flickered with shock. It wouldn’t be the first time that a drunk you had been dropped off at his doorstep - and it more than likely wouldn’t be the last - but you always woke up penitent the next day.

Johnny didn’t deserve that. He deserved better than you.

“But…”

“Ah, ah, ah - I said no ‘but’s,” Irene wielded her dismissive weapon of a finger. Her motherly instincts were kicking in and it meant that her decision was final. “Let’s go.”

With no other option, you followed Irene to her car with a slight stumble in your walk. Given they lived in the same neighborhood, you were at Johnny’s place in a blink. For some reason, you felt nervous. That was how you always felt around Johnny, even if you knew deep down that you had nothing to worry about.

He keeps on taking me in, you thought somberly. He’s nice to me. Even when I don’t deserve it. And I don’t know why.

If you were sober, you might have felt more guilty. Scratch that, you would have felt like nothing short of a villain. And maybe you were. Maybe you were the bad guy, the wolf dressed in sheep’s clothing.

But that was because you couldn’t help but think everyone else was out to get you. Whatever much excuse you could bring yourself to give.

Irene walked you up to Johnny’s doorstep and rang the doorbell. It was late at night and Johnny liked his rest, but he was wide awake when he came to answer the door. And his entire expression changed when his eyes fell on you.

Johnny had seen you too many times too many in this state and just enough to know when you had spent the past few hours maintaining your friendship with alcohol. It was much more effort than you were putting into yours.

Irene squeaked in her soft voice, “Hi.”

He looked stone cold. It made your stomach twist, just a little. Although you knew Johnny was the warmest person there was. He stifled a sigh and said, “Come on, y/n.”

You shuffled right past him and through the doorway. By now it was routine, yet Johnny thought he would never get used to seeing you this way. He tried to help you, tried to get you to break out of your bad habits. And you were genuinely improving. For you to relapse out of the blue meant that you had been triggered.

When the coast was clear, Johnny shot Irene a glare, and snapped, “Why would you let this happen?”

Irene kept a straight face and took his harsh words in stride. If Johnny lashed out at her, she understood. It wasn’t easy dealing with you, loving you, and she could only imagine what it was like to be in love with you. “I know you’re stressed, but don’t antagonize me for her actions, Johnny. I can’t control what she does.”

“No, but you can enable her. And that’s exactly what you do,” Johnny barked.

“She’s one of my closest friends!” Irene shouted, tears brimming in her eyes. “I would never do anything to hurt her. All I want to do is help her. I’ve been trying. Trust me. I’ve been trying so hard, Johnny. But you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to help themselves.”

Irene never cried. Much less in front of men. She was too busy being strong for everyone else to let herself be weak. She deserved to lash out, too. Being the calm friend, the responsible one, was hard. And she felt like she only got closer and closer to losing you everyday.

Johnny simmered down once he realized that she was right. All of this was unwarranted. He knew that doing this for you over and over again was only hurting the both of you, and everyone you loved, but he loved you too goddamn much to let you go.

It was frustrating. It made him angry - loving you. Being in love with you. Hearing his heart call out your name. And watching you use him just to dispose of him when you were done like he was some replaceable toy. What made him even more upset was that you were showing progress, and he thought that maybe something good could finally come out of it. Now he had to watch it all go down the drain.

Johnny rubbed his temple and sighed out, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Irene took a deep breath and exhaled. Johnny knew it wasn’t like her to lose her sense like that, but as long as you were hurting, so was she. “Just take care of her. Please. That’s all I ask.”

Johnny gave a nod of head and turned around. He was about to go inside and check up on you when he heard Irene call his name again.

“Please be patient with her. She’s trying.”

She loves you. Irene didn’t say it, but it was clear as day. Written all over her face, swimming in her dark eyes.

He nodded again, more reluctant this time, then pushed his door open and came inside the house. Glancing around, he didn’t spot you nearby. He called out your name, and when you responded, the sound of your voice led him upstairs to his bedroom.

You were now wearing one of his t-shirts, but it looked more like it was wearing you. Things had been like that since you were in high school. He towered over you with the skies above and yet he was filled of nothing but adoration. The memories of you wearing his clothes almost made him break into a smile. Almost.

Instead, Johnny sat down beside you and said, “Are you gonna tell me what happened now or in the morning?”

You frowned. People always wanted to talk, as if talking would make all your problems magically disappear. All you wanted to do was forget that they existed for as long as you could.

Without saying a word, you unlocked your phone, went to your messages, and handed it to him. Johnny gave you a confused glance, but read the text nonetheless. It was from an unsaved number, but the contents of the message gave away everything he needed to know. Clearly, it was from no one other than your father.

“Shit,” Johnny said, more to himself than anything else.

You pushed your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around your legs. “Yeah. Apparently he wants to make up for leaving his daughter and her mother when she was a toddler and driving the woman he used to love into substance abuse. Funny, right?”

Johnny sighed. No wonder you were beginning to sink back into your old ways. This was a trigger and you knew nothing else.

“How’d he even get your number?”

“My mother’s rash decisions or my cousin’s spite for me, who knows,” you shrugged, chuckling. Family reunions weren’t your favorite. At some point of becoming fed up with your family fiascos, you stopped attending. There was no way that you would see your evil cousin, your old-fashioned grandparents, aunts, and uncles, or even your mother. The only thing she and you shared was resent for your father, but you weren’t sure what she was capable of when drunk.

Johnny frowned. As much as it hurt to see you like this, he understood why you reacted the way you did. He was your best friend and your lover and knew you better than you knew yourself. He knew every bit of your trauma, down to the rawest detail - your childhood, all of the boys you once loved that weren’t him.

Part of him wished that you had given your heart to him first. He would have guarded it with a sword and fought off dragons for you. Instead, the boys you trusted handled it carelessly and shattered it into pieces. Now it was much harder to salvage what was left of it.

Johnny pulled you into his arms. He was angry. Angry at your father, angry at the world, even angry at you. But he wanted to be there for you, even if you took advantage of his kindness. When you felt his hands around you, you wept into his shoulder. He smoothed the palm of his hand against your back, and whispered soothingly into your ear, “It’s okay. Let it all out.”

You wept and wept, until you had no tears left to cry. God, you hated crying in front of other people. You hated being vulnerable, but it came naturally when you were with Johnny. Ever since you became friends in high school. And though Johnny never made a move to hurt you, he could have. That was the part you hated. Being vulnerable to someone meant trusting them not to hurt you the way everyone else had.

When you were done, you pulled away and noticed the damp patch on Johnny’s shirt. “Sorry,” you croaked.

“Shirts can dry,” he reminded, and lifted it above his head. “Let’s go to bed. You can talk to me in the morning when you’re sober.”

You nodded, then climbed into bed with him. To say that you hadn’t been in this position before would have been a lie, but you liked being so close to Johnny. He was your refuge from the world that liked to throw knives at you. And when you bled, he was always there to tend to your bloody scars. He made you feel safe, and that scared you more than anything.

Johnny kissed your forehead. “Goodnight.”

Heat flared in your cheeks. Safe didn’t even scratch the surface of how Johnny made you feel, but it would have to for now. You weren’t ready to unpack your feelings for Johnny. You weren’t ready to confront them.

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

Even in the dark, you saw Johnny smile. And beneath it he hid the storms of emotion induced by you that were killing him softly.

Between the pain of knowing Johnny was hurting because of you and the pain of your hangover, you couldn’t tell what hurt more.

It was a well-practiced routine. You woke up with a splitting headache, a bottle of water and Aspirin waiting for you on his bedside, and sometimes Johnny would be tucked into the sheets next to you. When he wasn’t, he was downstairs making breakfast.

And when you woke up, taking in your surroundings and realizing they were nothing like your bedroom, the regret settled in. You’re so fucking selfish, you chastised to yourself. Johnny was in love with you. That was positively the only reason he put up with your bullshit, but he deserved better.

And you were trying to give him better, to be the one that he needed. Given your habits of sleeping around to ignore the weight tugging at your chest when you thought of Johnny and drinking away your problems, you were trying to stop. Instead of drinking, you ranted to Irene or Johnny. Instead of finding someone to toy with for a night, you tried to be a good friend to Johnny.

It worked. Even the rest of your friends caught on to how much better and healthier you seemed. Then, your dad sent that stupid text and your whole world went crashing down. You didn’t know what to do. You were torn. Ripped and shredded to fucking pieces.

Maybe it was time Johnny accepted that he deserved someone better than you. For his own sake. You were a tainter that ruined everything you touched and rotted it to the core.

You popped the Aspirin and came downstairs. Johnny wasn’t there when you woke up, but judging from the delicious scent wafting through the air, he was downstairs cooking.

“Morning,” you whispered, sitting at the island.

Johnny shot you a glance over his shoulder and tended back to the stove. He was making pancakes. “If it isn’t Sleeping Beauty.”

You blushed and tried to hide it, asking coyly, “Momma’s recipe?”

“You know it.”

That made you crack a soft smile. He was right - you did know. Part of you envied the relationship Johnny had with his parents: strong and healthy. That would never be you. You didn’t remember the last time you spoke to your mother and your father was self-explanatory.

You shook your head, and hopefully the thought away. It was too early. Instead, you focused on Johnny. He was still half-naked, and you caught yourself gazing at the details of his bare back. Damn, did he look good.

Then, you watched him cook, subconsciously trailing off into your own head again. I don’t deserve him. He went above and beyond for you, from making you breakfast to even letting you inside in the first place. He held you and listened to your rants and tried his best to aid you, but you threw that all away. And yet, here he was.

When Johnny was finished cooking, he fixed you both plates and sat across from you. Apart from giving him your gratitude, the two of you ate in silence. After a while, he commented, “I thought you weren’t drinking anymore.”

You stared at your plate, refusing to look Johnny in his eyes. That would kill you - seeing the pain submerged in his eyes staring back in you. It was obvious that you didn’t want to have this conversation, preferring to leave words left unsaid. What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you.

Maybe you already knew and you were trying your hardest to ignore it.

“Old habits die hard,” you murmured, fiddling with your knife and fork.

Your relationship with alcohol was typical. Although you weren’t addicted, it was still unhealthy. For the most part, when you drank, it was to forget about the feelings and thoughts plaguing your heart and mind. Escapism was your go-to coping mechanism. You weren’t strong enough to confront your problems head-on.

“You can’t keep doing this.” We can’t keep doing this.

“I know.”

Johnny sighed. “What’s on your mind?”

You bit your lip. Of course, Johnny could tell when there was something troubling you. There was no hiding from him. He was the only one capable of coaxing you of an answer.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up here unannounced expecting you to take care of me.” Just like you always do.

Johnny was quick. “It wasn’t unannounced. Irene texted me.”

“That’s not the point and you know it,” you said, finally looking up at him. The expression he sported was grim. It hurt to see the way he looked at you, but you knew that you didn’t deserve his beautiful smile. 

He sighed and glanced off, almost looking offended. “Then, what is your point?”

You shook your head. You weren’t ready to have this conversation and you doubted that you ever would be. “Forget it.”

“No. Talk to me. I just hate when you freeze me out,” Johnny urged swiftly. He hated it more than anything else. All he wanted was your love, but he was quick to realize that it was hard to thaw your frozen heart out.

Eyes drifting back to your plate, you shook your head and whispered, “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Johnny softened up. For fucks sake, you were impossible, but he had too much sympathy for you. He understood why you acted the way you did, even if that didn’t ease the pain or validate your behavior. Most of all, he didn’t want you to follow your mother’s footsteps and become the person you swore you’d never be.

Last night hurt him, too. Patient was all he had ever been with you. He had been patient with you for at least ten years. He was so sick of waiting, but it was safe to say that no matter what, you would be his first and last love.

When the room got quiet, you spoke up again in a little voice, “He texted me Thursday night. I still haven’t responded. I don’t know what to do anymore, Johnny.”

“Do what you wanna do,” he told you, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s up to you. You don’t have to forgive him. You don’t even gotta respond. What he did was fucked up and he shouldn’t expect you to give in easily. But whatever you choose to do, your first priority should be letting go.”

Letting go. Easier said than done. All your life, letting go had never been your forte. Part of you was still scarred by your past lovers. Grudges ruined your life.

There were reasons why you came out this way. Of course, part of it stemmed from your childhood, though not everything and your identity was intricately layered.

In high school, you fell for Lee Jeno. He was the sweetest boy that you’d ever met - or at least you thought he was - and he almost instantly swept you off your feet. Jeno had all the girls swooning and the fact that he chose you made you feel a special type of bliss. Until you found him making out with a cheerleader in the locker room.

Then, in college, you decided to give romance a second try. It was Osaki Shotaro’s turn to break your heart. You remembered like it was yesterday and it was all so sudden. Out of the blue, Shotaro broke up with you and told you that he wasn’t in love with you anymore. He left you for another woman. You couldn’t imagine how many times he had been with her all while being with you. It made you sick to your stomach.

After that, you were scarred for life, scared shitless of love. Boys proved time and time again without fail that their only intention was to treat your fragile heart like dirt on the bottom of their shoes. They walked all over it, taking advantage of your blind love. Fed you lies and empty promises of forever.

That was why you kept your heart guarded and under lock and key. You intentionally kept your relationships short and discardable - no strings attached. You didn’t want to trust anyone else with your heart. They threw it in the middle of a busy highway and now it was in traffic.

Trust issues, they called it. Issues - that was your forte. And you had a variety. Trust issues, abandonment issues, daddy issues, commitment issues. Whatever the label slapped on them, they all controlled every moment of your life.

Johnny added, “I know that’s easier said than done, but promise me you’ll try. Will you?”

You nodded your head and fought back tears. Weak was the word you used to describe yourself in your head. It was far too easy to break you. “I’ll try, I promise. But I don’t know if I can do it.”

“I believe in you,” Johnny whispered, voice soft yet powerful. You were convinced that he had too much faith in you. Never had anyone believed in you this much. Never had anyone loved you the way that Johnny did and you didn’t know how to accept it.

Your heart was at constant war, unable to choose between two stances. Johnny wasn’t like the other men once in your life. Or maybe he was, yet hid it well. Maybe he was waiting for you to trust him to break your heart.

Both of you finished eating and changed the subject. It was a relief. Johnny hated making things awkward and you were grateful for that.

After a while, Johnny drove you back home. You hated leaving and Johnny hated watching you go, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t used to this cycle. You stood at your doorstep and said, “Thanks for breakfast.”

Johnny nodded. “Any time. When will I see you again?”

He liked seeing you. Just not after a long night of you disregarding your troubles with sex and alcohol.

“My schedule’s packed Monday through Friday, but maybe one of those nights,” you said. Often you found yourself making time for Johnny when there was none. And in return, he did the same. He showed you a good time and to your definition, that meant a night of relieving pent up stress. “If not, I’ll see you this weekend.”

“Okay,” Johnny nodded again. “Later, alligator.”

Before he could leave, you leaned on the tip of your toes and smashed your lips against his. Johnny seemed genuinely caught off-guard, but he wasted no time in kissing you back, stealing your every last breath like there was no tomorrow. You liked kissing Johnny. Apart from the warm feeling boiling in your chest whenever he pressed his lips to yours, he was just so damn good at making you feel like you were on a cloud.

You pulled back and caught your breath, smiling. “After a while, crocodile.”

Johnny grinned and walked back to his car.

You didn’t see Johnny again until the following weekend.

Not that you didn’t speak. You and Johnny were inseparable and spoke everyday if you could, via texting or phone calls when there was no chance of seeing each other in person. You told him that you needed time to yourself and he both respected and encouraged your decision.

You were busy thinking - an upside of Johnny’s influence. Most of the time you hated being in your head and avoided it at all costs. It was a dangerous place to be, but you were trying harder to not disappoint him once more.

In that time, your father sent you another message. He wanted to meet up with you and was unyielding. The ball was in your court. You could agree to hear him out or you could block his number and pretend it never happened, but it was no easy decision.

Saturday approached far too leisurely. Uneventful days of work and pondering led to the date of your friends’ betrothal party.

With a very Yuta-esque spin to it. The event was casual through and through. The dress code was loose and neither party held good relationships with their family, meaning most of the guests were close friends. It was a pool party and everyone would be in the backyard.

When you caught up to Yuta and Winwin, you didn’t hesitate to ask, “Okay, I’ll bite. Who did it? Who popped the question?”

Yuta fought a smirk and shrugged blithely. “Guess.”

“Winwin?”

Winwin shook his head. “Nope. Contrary to popular belief, Yuta’s quite the romantic. In his own way, of course. He even crouched down on one knee.”

It was somewhat believable. The Yuta from before he met Winwin wasn’t the Yuta that stood before you now. He had seen the light and became a man of all things love and cheesy.

Still, you teased, “No way. Can’t believe the main hoe of the town is settling down. What happened to being non-monogamous buddies?”

“Shit changes,” Yuta said, sighing blissfully as he wrapped an arm around Winwin. Then, he teased back, “Besides, we both know it was either me and Winwin or you and Johnny next in fate’s line.”

You blushed and spluttered, “Where’d you get that idea from?”

Both boys laughed like you had told the funniest joke. You narrowed your eyes, and Winwin answered for his future husband, “I know I’m the latest addition to the gang and all, but even I can see the sparks between you and Johnny. There’s obviously something there. I don’t know why you haven’t acted on it.”

Yuta exchanged knowing glances with you. He probably understood you the best out of everyone present. Your life’s weren’t carbon copy’s of each other, but he had lived the closest thing to your trauma. You weren’t ready. For a while, neither was he, but if he could let go and move on, maybe so you could you.

“There’s been sparks since motherfucking junior high. It’s always been a given that you two like each other and you’ll get together one day in the future. I couldn’t see it any other way,” Yuta said.

That should have made you feel happy, but all you could feel was dread and regret fused with yearning. All of your friends could see you together, but you weren’t sure if you could give him that. How selfish of you to be the one holding the two of you back.

You should have told him to move on and let you go. Instead, you avoided confrontation for as long as possible, craving every moment of his love and attention until the flame went out. You didn’t want to give him all of you yet, but you didn’t want to give him away either. Losing Johnny meant that he would never be yours. Maybe that was what it would take for you to open your eyes.

New guests caught Winwin’s eye and he tugged on his fiancé’s arm. “We’ll catch up with you later, we have to greet the other guests. Come on, Yuta.”

“You go ahead, babe. I’ll be right behind you in a minute,” Yuta dismissed. Winwin only nodded and went to greet their guests. Then, Yuta turned to you and quietly asked, “Everything okay between you and Johnny?”

“It’s your engagement party. Don’t worry about us,” you sighed, searching for the bar through the corners of your eyes.

Yuta was quick to retort, “And you’re my friends. I can worry about you whenever I want. Now, what’s up?”

You bit your lip. This wasn’t the kind of conversation you had in the middle of a betrothal party, but Yuta was adamant. You thought about the last time you had seen Johnny, how you felt when you kissed him. God, you missed the feeling of his lips on yours. Whenever Johnny was near your side you wished that you could hit pause on time. It was funny how the most beautiful moments in life were the most short-lived ones.

Your voice was small when you said, “I’m not a good person, Yuta.”

Yuta glanced at you curiously, eyes urging you on. “What you do?”

“I let Johnny down. A couple of weeks ago I told him that I’d try to break out of my habits. And I was actually doing better. I stopped resorting to drinking whenever something inconvenienced me and finding one-night stands to forget about Johnny.”

Yuta nodded along. “And then?”

“And then, my dad texted me and said he wanted to make things right between us, and I didn’t know what else to do. I got drunk last Friday night and Irene took me to Johnny’s house. I don’t remember much, but I know I winded up telling him what happened and crying on his shoulder,” you chuckled sourly. “He made me breakfast the next morning and we talked about it. And I feel bad because he doesn’t deserve none of this shit. He deserves someone better.”

He deserves someone that isn’t afraid to love him.

“Are you gonna be that person?” Yuta questioned, tone genuine.

I want to be. You exhaled. You didn’t know the answer to that.

You blinked, feeling tears threatening to fall. “I don’t know. The worst part is he has so much faith in me when I’m not even sure about myself. He should have walked away a long time ago, but he’s still here, waiting for me.”

“He’s ready when you are. But you aren’t ready yet, are you?”

Shaking your head, you frowned. You were far from.

“Be better. Do better,” Yuta said assertively. “I know that’s harder than it sounds, but you gotta try. Figure that shit out with your dad. What you choose to do is none of my business, but you have to heal and let it go so that you can be a better person for yourself and for Johnny.”

“That’s practically what Johnny said.”

“Great minds think alike,” Yuta grinned.

You snickered. “You got engaged and got all wise and shit, huh?”

“You know the tale. My dad was a drunk and treated me and my Mom like shit. It was up to me to decide if I wanted to grow into him, or if I wanted to be better,” he spoke monotonously.

But you were scared. You wanted to do things the right way, but you weren’t certain if you knew how. “What if I mess up?”

Yuta didn’t hesitate. “The point of mistakes is to learn. We all fuck up once or twice. That way, you know what not to do so you don’t fuck up the third time. It sucks, but that’s the way life works. Don’t make the same mistake thrice.”

He spoke the gospel. Where your family lacked, you were at least glad to have supportive friends. They were kind and you knew at the end of the day, they were people you could confide in. Maybe you would do it more often.

“I won’t,” you told Yuta. You sounded firm.

“Good,” he replied, and scanned the crowd for Winwin. “Now I gotta go with Winwin before he beats my ass in front of everybody. You go find Johnny, alright?”

You nodded. That you would. It had been too long since you had heard his voice and felt his touch and you were craving a taste. With that, Yuta left to join his husband-to-be and you scanned the crowd for your own lover.

In an instant your eyes landed on Johnny and you could spot him in any crowd. He was at the edge of the pool talking to Ten, who you caught casting Johnny a wink before walking away once he noticed you coming over.

When you got there, you crouched down and sat next to him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Johnny greeted, instinctively wrapping an arm around your waist. “You look great.”

You blushed. This morning you had deliberately chosen the sexiest bikini set in your wardrobe. It raised the stakes and given how addicted Johnny was to your body, your chances at getting laid tonight. “You look the best.”

Johnny was also half-naked, obviously. And damn did he look gorgeous. You bit your lip. You were thoroughly convinced that the gods themselves had sculpted him. His body was to die for and you were offering yourself up.

Johnny joked, “I won’t argue with that.”

You snickered and nudged his side.

“How was your work week?”

Johnny groaned and you immediately knew the answer to that question. “I’m stressed and exhausted. I need an outlet for my pent up frustration.”

“Oh?” you stammered, mouth suddenly dry.

“Yeah,” Johnny said. His hand ran up and down your back and he leaned to your side, whispering, “Good thing I have you, right?”

There was a crushing weight on your chest that made it difficult to breathe. Whenever Johnny was near you, the pressure came back, and it only got more intense when he did things like that. The effect he had on you was strong and he had you tingling with lust.

“Yeah,” you murmured back, trying hard to keep your cool and avoid appearing anything other than indifferent. But he could see right through you. “Good.”

“What about you?” Johnny pressed. “How was your week?”

“I don’t wanna think about it,” you grumbled.

Johnny was so close to you that you could feel the warmth of his body radiating your skin. Given the sunny weather, you were already hot, but something about this felt internal. It was like trying to breathe on the moon. Johnny parted his lips and suggested, “Kiss me until you forget about it.”

There was no need to tell you twice. You initiated the kiss, steering his lips to yours until they met with a clash. Johnny took control, arms still wrapped around you as he took passion to another level. It wasn’t long before you were sucking on each other’s tongues. You crawled into his lap for easier access, wanting to be as close to him as humanly possible.

Heat flared from your chest to Johnny’s and vice versa, spreading from bone to bone at the skin on skin contact. Whenever you made out, it was like you were floating in air or navigating through space with no gravity. His hands clung to your body and you were on a cloud, elevating and trying your hardest to refrain from grinding down on his crotch.

Johnny deepened the kiss, holding you tightly as possible and moving his mouth against yours fiercely. His heart was thundering against and threatening to leap out of the cage of his bare, burly chest. God, there was no greater pleasure than kissing you and feeling your warm body on his. But you both were putting all of your strength into resisting each other and it was too much. The feelings were overbearing.

When you both pulled away, you exhaled little breaths, hearts racing. You looked Johnny in his lustful eyes and heaved, “I like kissing you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You taste good as hell,” you flirted.

“Mm,” Johnny hummed, nodding his head. He pulled you square to his chest, face hovering hardly inches over yours. You gulped, which undoubtedly didn’t go unnoticed. “What do I taste like?”

You pressed your palms to his naked chest, purring, “Strawberry champagne.” 

“Yeah, you missed the bottle popping,” he chuckled. God knows you would have loved that.

Faking a pout, you replied, “Bummer. I was too busy trying on different bikinis.”

“You wear this all for me?” Johnny flirted, ever the intuitive man. Unbeknownst to you, he had been eyeing you from the moment you stepped onto the scene. And the second he laid eyes on you in your bright red bikini, he knew that he had to have his way with you.

“Especially for you. I know blue’s your favorite color, but red suits me better.”

“You make short work of supermodels in anything you wear,” Johnny growled. He was looking at you from head to toe, as if he were going to swallow you whole.

“You’re just saying that because you wanna have sex with me.”

Johnny wasted no time in shutting you down. “I’m saying it because it’s true. Sex would be a nice bonus, though.”

You laughed.

“Come swim with me,” Johnny said, gently sitting you back on the edge of the pool before coming to his feet.

You hesitated. “Won’t Yuta be upset we ditched him at his engagement party?”

“That wasn’t a question,” Johnny added, lowering his voice. Which definitely did unspeakable things to you. “And trust me - Yuta doesn’t give a flying fuck as long as we join in when it’s time to gather around and shit.”

That was true. It didn’t mean Yuta had unsophisticated tastes, he simply just didn’t care for rules and formalities - untraditional by any means. Winwin was the opposite. Conventional to a fault, he was a man of decorum and the party was a clear mix of both of their personalities. Somehow, they both made it work.

Ignore the pace of your heartbeat, you muttered, “Okay,” and sunk into the pool.

Johnny followed suit with a tiny splash, swimming to your side. Being in the water felt good, all things considered. It was cold and gave your brain - and body - a quick refresh.

“You know, this reminds me of high school,” he started, pensive. “When Joy threw that pool party on the first night of summer break, and Jaehyun pushed you into the pool as a joke.”

The memory made you roll your eyes. In high school you were nothing if not a bunch of stupid teenagers. “He’s lucky I didn’t let myself drown and have my Mom sue him for everything he’s worth. Now that I think about it, I should have. Every penny to his name. Mommy and Daddy Jung would have killed him.”

Johnny chuckled. “Oh for sure. He would have been taking the city bus instead of high-end luxury cars and gotten a job at the nearest McDonald’s like the rest of us.”

“Damn nepo baby,” you shook your head and sighed. “Gotta love him, though.”

“To be born into wealth,” Johnny sighed dramatically.

You giggled.

Moments later, a thought passed your mind. A memory - the beautiful kind. You fought a smile and asked, “You know what else happened at that party?”

Johnny gave you a long, hard cook. It was practically inscrutable and noncommittal. If he had any idea what you were referring to, the only thing that gave it away was the slight smile on his face for a mere fraction of a second.

Of course, he knew. How could he forget? It was easily one of the best moments of his life, made even better because it was spent underneath the moonlight with you.

He shrugged, feigning oblivion. “What happened?”

“We made out for the first time,” you reminded, voice little. “We were each other’s first kiss.”

The memory was anything but vague. The both of you were a little drunk, and somehow found yourselves in each other’s embrace. And then, in each other’s mouths. For someone who had never made out with anyone before, then-Johnny kissed you like royalty. With every intention to conquer your mind, heart, and body.

In that sense, you guessed he had been successful. Johnny lived rent-free in your mind and had built a little home both there and in your heart, with enough room for the both of you. Not to mention your body. You were counting down the seconds until you could get him in the sheets right now. In your attempts to keep him out, you had simultaneously been giving him access to the most vulnerable parts of you.

To say nothing of himself. Johnny wished he could turn back time. Part of him wished that he could undo meeting you and falling in love with you, because he was beginning to lose faith in the two of you. The other part of him loved you too goddamn much to even begin to imagine a world without you in it. It wouldn’t be worth living.

“I remember,” Johnny assured, finally letting himself smile. He couldn’t control it. “Wanna know what you tasted like?”

You squinted. “What?”

“Guess.”

You rolled your eyes and deadpanned, “Your mother’s chocolate chip cookies.”

Johnny’s laugh was mocking. “You wish.”

Whining, you said, “Tell me! I don’t remember.”

He gave in - though because he wanted to and not because you told him to - and replied, “Tequila.”

“The cheap kind?”

“Nope. I’m sure Jaehyun stole that from Mommy and Daddy Jung’s liquor stash,” he quipped.

You snickered. It was a relief that he was good at directing conversation. For a moment, you thought that it was going south. God knows the past was a sensitive subject.

Although he said nothing, Johnny couldn’t help but think about it. For years, he had been in love with you. He remembered meeting you like it was yesterday - you were the new kid in school and Johnny was the one kind enough to be your friend. He showed you around, ate lunch with you, studied with you, and introduced you to his friend group. In no time, you were best friends.

You were his first kiss. Johnny knew he wanted you that night. When he pressed his lips to yours and felt his body elevating into the clouds above, he knew.

Eventually you became a series of each other’s firsts. First kisses, first times, first loves. You had been vulnerable to each other in ways that you hadn’t with anyone else.

And you, you were multifaceted. Johnny had seen the rawest sides of you and fell hard and deep in love with each one - the beautiful and the ugly. All of those things made you fall for Johnny, too, but you noticed it a little later than he did, once it was too late. Which hindered his progress.

By the time you realized you were in love with Johnny, you had already given your heart to the wrong people. That was why you couldn’t comprehend how someone would ever be able to offer you their love, and mean it. That was why you trusted no one.

Forget being your first. Johnny wanted to be your last and as the clock ticked, his chances felt slimmer and slimmer.

You stared at his lips, not even attempting to hide the direction your eyes were searching. “I want strawberry champagne.”

Johnny tilted his head. He had x-ray vision when it came down to your intentions, though this game he wouldn’t mind playing along with. “Do you?”

When you nodded, Johnny took the bait and leaned in to kiss you. It was like magic. Every time felt as surreal as the first one. You just couldn’t believe that you were blessed enough to have him at your fingertips.

Johnny was the same. I love her. It was old news to almost everyone, though the realization hit Johnny the same way it had that night when he first tasted you. When he realized that you were the one and only love of his life.

Sucking on Johnny’s tongue and moaning into his mouth, soaking in all his little sounds was all you wanted to do. Maybe this was why Yuta said you and Johnny would be next in fate’s line. It would be a lie to say that you hadn’t dreamt of having your daddy walk you down the aisle to the man of your dreams.

Though if there was anything that you had learned, it was that fate was an evil lady and she had it out for you.

Johnny soon backed off. He hadn’t had his fill, but you were driving him crazy. And as much as he wanted to be a good friend to Yuta, the urge to drag you away for a fuck was growing stronger. He warned in a low tone, “We’ll miss the rest of the party if you keep kissing me.”

“What’s so bad about that?” you purred, leaning closer to his face. You could feel each other’s breath on your skin. “We can have a party of our own.”

To your credit, you were dangerously skilled at tempting Johnny. It made him feel bad to think that you practically already were having a party of your own. Both of you were surrounded by people, but to him, it felt like there was no one else around you. The sound of your voice and laughter had been drowning out the sound of the presence of people.

With the last of his restraint and self-control, he said, “Mm, that’s tempting. But no. Be a good girl and be patient.”

Immediately, you frowned, but didn’t dare disobey. Johnny would give you what you wanted sooner or later because you knew that he wanted you, too. And though you had your flaws, you weren’t terrible enough to dip in the middle of your friend’s betrothal party.

“Fine,” you said exasperatedly, peeling yourself off of him. “But you better make it up to me later.”

Johnny gave you one last kiss to placate you a little, then whispered softly in your ear, “Don’t I always?”

That he did.

For the better half of the evening, both of you decided to interact with other people, including the ones being celebrated. Most of the time you and Johnny were incapable of resisting each other, and with the thoughts plaguing your minds, there was no way on earth that you would survive side to side without breaking your agreement.

You had a fun time, but you were more than relieved when Winwin announced that he and Yuta wanted some alone time. Everyone said their goodbyes and you raced to Johnny’s side.

“My place or yours?”

“Mine’s closer. Meet you there?” Johnny asked, though he already knew you would. You were practically careening to your car the moment he got the words out.

“Meet you there!”

Both of you arrived in turn, with you slightly ahead of him. You didn’t even wait for him to pull into the driveway before you were rummaging through your purse for the extra key Johnny had bestowed upon you long ago.

It was game over once he stepped out of his car and you were only alone for a split second before he entered, wasting no time in backing you against a wall and stealing a kiss. Johnny always kissed you like it was the last time he would ever get the chance. There was something eager in the way that his mouth moved against yours. It was heated, unchaste. He kissed you so hard that it was impossible to keep up with his pace.

“Someone’s desperate,” you teased through shallow breaths. Johnny nibbled at your ear and you sighed, pitching your head back against the plaster.

He ribbed, breath tickling your neck, “You’d oughta know a thing or two about being desperate. Seeing as you got to my house before me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up and kiss me.”

Under any other circumstances, Johnny would have teased you and made you wait before he kissed you again. Though seeing as he had been waiting too goddamn long for this moment, all he could do was cave.

Goddamn, his lips were soft. In contrast to the rough manner he handled your body. Everything was escalating too quickly and you were being dug into the wall by the weight of his body. There was so much tension in the room that you could hardly even breathe through it.

Johnny nudged his knee between your thighs and stuck his hand down your bottoms, the other roaming your body. “You’re so wet for me.”

“Do something about it,” you whined.

Johnny sneered. Part of him was half-tempted to tease the living hell out of you and see how much you could take. The other was losing hold of his heavy load of patience much more quickly than he would have liked.

“Wanna fuck in the shower to wash off the chlorine? Kill two birds with one stone.”

“Just don’t let me fall.”

He smiled. “I would never.”

Before you knew it, he was lifting you up in his arms like you weighed nothing. You squealed when you felt yourself being hauled into the air, locking your legs around his waist and resting your head on his shoulder. It felt too right being in his hold. As if it was supposed to be this way.

Maybe it was.

Johnny carried you to his bedroom and you clung to his chest for dear life. While he went in the bathroom to run the shower, you began to quickly peel off your clothes. You were on the threshold of insanity, bursting at the seams with lust. 

When the water was hot, Johnny stepped into the shower and you followed suit. As soon as your feet hit the non-skid shower mat Johnny shoved you against the wall, and the noise you made was eaten by the force of his lips. Your palms rose to his wet chest and his mouth fell from yours to your collarbone, soft and plush against your skin.

He simply couldn’t stay away. He spread your thighs apart and slipped one of hands back between them, this time moving them inside of you. Much to your pleasure. “Johnny,” you whimpered, breathless.

The sound of your lips parting to emit his name was like music to his ears and a melody stuck in his head. Thoughts of you underneath him, crying out his name whilst taking his size kept him up late at night, wishing he could rewind time to feel you back in his arms again. Where you belonged. It took every bit of willpower he had not to beg you to stay.

“Think you’re ready for me?” Johnny asked, leering at you with the darkest gaze that made your stomach churn.

You nodded. Johnny was big, that was undeniable, but you had taken every inch of his ungodly combination of length and girth countless times before like a champ. It was almost nothing to you.

He removed his fingers from your cunt and before you got the chance to whine from the emptiness, your lips were widening to sigh at the feeling of his bare cock brushing against your folds. Every second felt like minutes and your patience was wearing more and more thin. You needed him and you needed him right now.

Then, Johnny finally pushed inside, taking his sweet time to fill you. You swallowed him in with ease, simultaneously sucking in the deepest breath you could take. His eyes fell on your chest, water trickling down the swell of your breasts as you inhaled and exhaled.

Maybe taking him wasn’t like nothing. You felt not an ounce of pain, but the pleasure of having him fill you to the uttermost was overwhelming. The stretch meant something.

The moment the head of his girth prodded your entrance Johnny had already felt you pulsing tightly around him and you only kept clenching the deeper he pushed inside. You raced to anchor yourself, clawing at his shoulders while he pushed you firmer against the wall and he caged you between his big arms.

Johnny kissed your neck, then growled, “So tight for me.”

“All for you,” you stammered through thick breaths. It was too hot to breathe. The water burned your skins and Johnny made you erupt in flames all over.

Johnny grinned smugly.

Through hooded eyes, you soaked in the sight of water cascading down his neck - where his muscles flexed - and chest. For the better half of your life, Johnny had been a presence, but you would never get used to how gorgeous he was. His beauty was so ethereal to the point that it felt forbidden to be able to touch him like this. He was sent from the heavens above, both a blessing and a curse to you and your body.

The chains of restraint that bounded him snapped and Johnny latched his mouth to your nipple, meriting an automatic sigh of pleasure from your lips. With how close he was, you wondered if he could feel the thud of your heartbeat. It was racing inside your chest, the feelings you had for him raining hail and begging for freedom. Your heart was bursting at the seams with your love for Johnny and it pleaded desperately for you to unlock its door.

“You’re so hot,” Johnny whispered, keeping himself occupied with your body. Your brain was going into autopilot.

From Johnny’s perspective, your body was a treasure, and he knew its map by heart. All of your weaknesses were on display in his mind and he could choose whichever one he wanted to use to his advantage. He knew what felt good and what felt earth-shattering, and judging from the way you throttled his cock, this was the latter.

Neither you or Johnny talked too much during sex. It was difficult to speak when you were being fucked divested of every little thought you possessed and your mouth was too busy producing other noises.

And all Johnny hoped was that his body could say everything that words could not.

He couldn’t think of anyone else when he was with you, and when you were with someone else, you were still thinking of Johnny. Given the amount of nights you had spent searching for one-night stands you were no stranger to sex, but Johnny made it feel different. The emotions were stronger and so was the yearning. The two of you fucked each other like you had never wanted anything so badly before in your lives.

Johnny struck you somewhere deep and you rasped, “Fuck, baby.”

Fuck, he felt good. Even though you were prone to running away, there was no doubt that you would find yourself coming back for more. Johnny was your home and your heart would always drag you back to him. He owned your body. Whatever he desired to do with you - to you - you would let him. At the end of the day, you were his. Whether he knew it and you accepted it or not.

It wasn’t a choice. It was a feeling.

Looking at the dazed expression on your face gave him deja vu. The first time Johnny had sex with you, he genuinely thought that his heart was going to burst out of his chest. He was nervous, but if anything, dedicated. He vowed to himself that he would learn the ways of your body and put your pleasure before his. Which he did.

It was college, months before you met your soon-to-be ex, and you were freshmen. Giving your virginity to one another was one of the most unsurprising things that you two had ever done. At least back then, you were thick as thieves and did everything together. Who better to give it to than the one you could always bet on?

He still remembered that night like it was yesterday. All of your friends were going to a party, but you snuck inside his dorm while his roommates were away. One thing led to another and soon you were writhing beneath him, calling out his name like it was the only word you knew.

His feelings for you only heightened.

Johnny could still remember how heartbroken he was when you got with another man again - and how angry he was when he broke your heart just like the last guy. The emotions were so prominent that he could still feel them now. How long would it take you to realize that the man meant for you was already right by your side?

Even if he wasn’t the perfect match for you, Johnny knew deep down that he could love you better, because he already had without even needing to be in a relationship with you. Maybe if those boys had treated you right, then he could have came to peace with the fact that fate wasn’t on his side and you weren’t meant to be. But watching you cry after other men treated you like nothing only fed his flame.

“You close, baby?” Johnny asked, aiming to take you over the edge. His number one goal was to drive you out of your mind.

You could only nod, willing yourself not to speak. The words that would have left your mouth if you did were unimaginable.

Johnny fucked you even harder, chasing relentlessly for your orgasms. And you were just as - if not more - eager. He fought a complacent simper as he admired the way you were maneuvering your hips against his, whimpering with every touch.

The look on his face made you run your tongue over your dry lips. Barely were you resisting the urge to smash your lips against his. That look alone made you want to milk him dry of everything he was worth.

As badly as you wanted to savor every last moment, you could feel it in your bones that your orgasm was approaching. Listening to the noises resounding throughout the bathroom was what finished you - the sounds of your moans and Johnny’s hips slapping into yours with every thrust drowning out that of the shower pouring down on you both. You convulsed with release, gripping Johnny’s biceps for dear life as you met your orgasm with a high-pitched cry of his name.

Johnny wasn’t too far behind you. He couldn’t even grunt at the feeling of your nails digging into his flesh - it was outweighed by that of the pleasure of you clenching tightly around him with orgasm. It triggered his own, and he held you bruisingly tight as he spilled inside you with the lowest groan he could muster.

“You okay?” Johnny asked the moment you both were in the clear to speak.

You nodded weakly. “Perfect.”

Johnny smiled.

The two of you actually showered once you had caught your breaths, occasionally interrupting the other with a kiss. When you got out of the shower and re-dressed, Johnny pinned you to his bedroom wall and enveloped your lips in the biggest kiss yet. It was noticeably different from the other kisses that you had shared as of late. They were lustful and impatient. This was slow and steady - like he wanted nothing more than to savor the very taste of you.

He pulled away and whispered adoringly, “I love you.”

Your brain immediately went into overdrive. Given that you were childhood best friends, of course you and Johnny had said that you’d loved each other before. That was indubitable and not to be questioned. But this was different. This was in the context of a post-sex I love you.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

Johnny bristled. “I do mean it. I love you.”

Sighing, you walked off to his bed. You weren’t ready to have this conversation.

He stared at you incredulously, and reminded, “I’m not them.”

It was obvious who them was. Your past lovers. The ones that had left you so heartbroken that you could no longer let anyone inside your glass heart.

You shook your head, voice small when you replied, “I don’t know that.”

Johnny was visibly offended and upset. “How can you say that?”

“I don’t want to fight, John,” you said, exhaling loudly. This had escalated far too quickly and everything was heading in the wrong direction. For as long as you could, you wanted to steer clear of this course. But deep down, you knew that it had been inevitable.

He ignored you, walking closer to you and pestering, “I need answers. Do you really think I don’t love you?”

“Johnny…”

He didn’t relent. “Answer me.”

Frustrated, you shouted, “I don’t know what to think, Johnny! I’m scared to trust people - you know this!”

“And do you think I deserve to be punished for that?” Johnny snapped, white-hot rage seeping through and his restraints falling loose. “You and I both know I’m not just ‘people.’ We’ve known each other longer than you knew them. I’ve been here with you, for you, for a goddamn eternity. When have I ever let you down, huh? Tell me!”

His tone made you flinch and you were given whiplash. Johnny rarely got upset and never did he ever yell at your face, even if you sometimes deserved it. He was patient with you. For him to finally snap meant that you had wounded him deeply.

“I’m scared,” you croaked, teary-eyed.

“Right, you’re scared,” Johnny groused, turning around and heaving a thick breath. “Forget it.”

Pain burned through your chest in flares much like the anger spreading like wildfire throughout Johnny’s. Goddamn, this hurt. Was love supposed to be so complicated? Was love supposed to ache like this?

It hurt so good to love Johnny.

You stood up and shook your head. “No,” you told him, demanding, “Get it off your chest. Everything you want to say to me - say it right damn now!”

It wasn’t for you. No, you knew that the following words to come out of his mouth were going to scar you indefinitely. It was for Johnny. You knew that he had been holding all of this back for a long time and now this was his chance to erupt his heart volcano.

Johnny stormed right back over and said, “You want me to be honest?”

You nodded, tears rolling down your cheeks. He deserved it. You deserve it. You treat him like shit.

“Fine. I’ll be honest,” he seethed. You gulped, bracing yourself for his words to come. “You wanna know something? You’re so fucking selfish. You’ve been breaking my heart just because you’re trying not to get yours broken.”

That was true. You had been sacrificing his feelings in an effort to preserve yours and it was a futile plan - Johnny had already crawled his way inside your heart, yet you were still trying to keep him out.

“You have too much pride to show people your scars and that’s why every time I get closer, you push me away. Because all you know how to do is run like a coward. That’s what you’ve resorted to your whole life because you don’t know any better. But you can’t hide.”

You bobbed your head, willing yourself not to speak. Both of you needed this.

Johnny’s voice got lower as he said, “You think you can hide, but you can’t. You can’t fucking drink all your problems away. You can’t fuck them away, either. You can’t keep running to me and using me to dry your goddamn tears every time you realize all your problems are still there!”

“Johnny…” you called out through tears. As true as his words were, they stung. And guilt was eating at you from the inside.

“No. You fucking asked for this shit,” Johnny snapped, scowling. “I’ve been nice to you and patient with you, but all you do is take me for granted. And it hurt when you said you didn’t think I loved you, because I could have stopped putting up with your bullshit and cut you off a long time ago - but I didn’t. You know why? Because I fucking love you. And walking away would hurt as much as it does to stay.”

You told him softly, “I love you, Johnny.”

“Do you love me enough to stay?”

The room got silent. Did you? You knew that you wanted to, but damn was it hard. You were just so goddamn scared of hurt and betrayal. You had been left before and it broke you. It shredded you to the tiniest of pieces. But Johnny made you feel complete and whole again.

“Answer me. So I know if it’s time we move on,” Johnny commanded, impatient. “Am I just some booty call to you?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what the hell are you saying?”

“That I need you!” you screamed, the tension getting to your head - and your heart. It was too goddamn much. “I can’t live without you, Johnny. I can’t. I won’t. I’m scared because I don’t want to lose what we have. Losing you would be like losing the other half of me.”

Johnny got in your face again, but instead of yelling at you, he smashed his lips against yours. Just like that, you were relieved of the burden of all your fears and worries. He absorbed them and kept them somewhere safe, just like he did with all of your other secrets.

He kissed you with an emotion that was unmistakable - love. So much love. Maybe you had been blind to it before, but you could see it all clearly now.

Johnny was in love with you. And you were in love with Johnny.

“You’ll never, ever lose me,” Johnny swore in your ear once he detached himself from your mouth. He wiped at your tears with his thumb. “I promise. You’ve got me for life, alright?”

With a couple nods of your head, you crashed into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you snugly, welcoming your touch. This was where you were meant to be.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized after a couple of moments. It didn’t undo the pain you had been inflicting upon him for years, but it was a starting point for something better.

Johnny held you closer and kissed your forehead, then whispered softly, “I forgive you.”

He shouldn’t have, though you were grateful that he did. If it weren’t for his tenderheartedness, you weren’t sure what you would do.

“Let me be yours,” you sang.

It was tempting. You were offering him everything he had ever wanted on a silver platter. Granted, it didn’t take much to satisfy him - all he wanted was you. But as much as he wanted you, he wanted the most authentic version of you.

“Not yet,” Johnny said. You gawked, but he finished before you could interject, “I want to be in a relationship with you, but you need to take care of yourself first. Start tackling your problems. For starters, figure out what you’re going to do about your dad. Okay?”

You exhaled a long breath, but eventually nodded. “Okay.”

Johnny fought a content smile. “I’ll support whatever decision you choose to make,” he assured, pulling you closer to his chest. Then, he glanced down and asked, “Now - are you gonna run away or are you gonna stay the night?”

“I’m going to confront my fears and stay with you,” you whispered, refusing to separate yourself from the warmth of his body. You weren’t sure how you had done it before in the past. Tonight had given you an epiphany.

“Atta girl,” Johnny praised and led you to his bed. You flopped to his side, snuggling to his chest. “I have to go to work in the morning. Promise me I’ll wake up to your pretty face for motivation.”

You giggled, your laughter ringing through his mind beautifully. “I’ll be there. I promise, baby.”

Johnny was beaming from ear to ear. God, you loved seeing him like this. Happy. And he was happy because of you.

He couldn’t wait to wake up beside you in the morning.

Given their engagement, Yuta and Winwin were to have plenty of parties and the betrothal party was only one of many. Today marked the day of the housewarming party.

Their engagement meant that their relationship had developed into something serious. With marriage rapidly approaching, they were certain that they wanted to spend every moment of their lives together. And thus, they decided to move in with each other.

Which was how their new home came to be.

Guests spread out and filled the house to its brim, most of the ones you didn’t recognize being associates of Sicheng. After a couple of hours, you got off of your feet and went to rest in the living room.

And when you saw two very familiar men approaching you, you knew that you would be doing anything but resting.

“Oh no.”

Jaehyun and Ten sang in harmony, “Oh, yes.”

Watching the two of them take seats beside you, you could only wonder what in tarnation they were up to. Jaehyun and Ten were individual wildfires all by themselves, so you weren’t sure if you were ready to face the aftermath of combining the pair. Part of you was certain something would blow up in flames.

Narrowing your eyes, you asked cautiously, “What do you two bloodthirsty leeches want?”

“Chill, babe. We just wanted to hang with our favorite friend,” Jaehyun said. Given the untamed smile on his face, you highly doubted that. Jeong Jaehyun was nothing if not sheer trouble. And his partner in crime, too.

Ten nodded his head in confirmation. “Right,” he smirked, then pointed to the cup beside you. “What’s that - Bacardi?”

“Ha, ha,” you responded, deadpan. “No, bitch. It’s water. Contrary to an oddly popular belief, I’m not an alcoholic.”

Jaehyun interjected, “Babe, I can’t tell the difference between you and an alcoholic. That’s a problem.”

“What he said. I can hear your liver screaming ‘Ten, help me. Help me. Please…’”

You snapped, “Did you guys just come over here to terrorize me or is there something meaningful you have to say?”

Jaehyun leaned and asked quietly, like he was telling you a top-notch secret, “It’s because of Johnny, right?”

You spluttered, “What?”

He smiled, adding, “Don’t worry - you can tell me. Your secret is safe with me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, enough of the bullshit. Fess up,” Ten groaned in your other ear. Meanwhile you were thinking of ways to remove yourself from the Jaehyun-Ten you were between. “Something happened between you and Johnny. Something good.”

It wasn’t a question. He was saying that something happened and he knew it - he just didn’t know what. Yet.

You bit your lip. “Why do you say that?”

“Johnny’s been doing better lately, too. He’s been smiling more and in a better mood recently,” Ten replied, a spark of something raw and tender in his voice. “I like seeing him this way. It feels like I got the old Johnny back.”

Jaehyun nodded, all of the signs of jokes and games gone from his eyes. His expression was nothing short of soulful. “Me, too. There’s clearly been a shift. And whatever happened between you two, I hope it doesn’t shift back. He’s in a good place right now and so are you.”

Johnny had been happier lately. Everywhere he went he stood like a tall beam of light, radiating energy and warmth. And you two technically weren’t even together yet.

There was no way in hell that you would mess that up again. True to your promise to Yuta, you wouldn’t make the same mistake thrice. You had learned from your wrongdoings and decided that you were going to treat Johnny’s heart the same way you wanted others to treat yours. With caution and hypervigilance.

He deserved to be loved. Every bit of him. And you loved him to pieces.

“I won’t mess it up,” you assured them, confident. You knew what you wanted. And though you were still scared to go after it, you were willing to face your fears for Johnny. “I swear.”

Ten and Jaehyun smiled contentedly and replied in sync, “Good.”

Across the house, Johnny was having a similar conversation with your friends. And you were none the wiser.

“Hey, tough guy!” Yeri called out, grabbing Johnny’s attention. If it weren’t for the fact that she had bestowed the nickname upon him ages ago and was hellbent on sticking to her guns, he would have kept walking. She folded her arms across her chest and said, “Let’s talk.”

Johnny flickered his eyes between Yeri and the woman beside her - Irene - and a terrible feeling settled in his chest. Reluctantly, he admitted lightheartedly, “I feel unsafe.”

Both women responded in unison, “Good.”

He brought his plastic cup from his lips, then asked, “What’s this about?”

“You and y/n,” Irene said, eyeing him suspiciously.

Yeri wasted no time. “Are you two dating?”

On cue, Johnny’s heart seemed to boom at the mere thought of being in a relationship with you. As much as he wanted to make you his that night and as terribly as he fought against his every irrational decision, it wasn’t convenient timing. He wanted you to heal before anything.

Johnny feigned indifference, replying honestly, “No, we’re not. Why?”

Irene sat on the couch nearby, glancing off pensively. “She’s been… better again. She told us that she wouldn’t be drinking again for a while and she’s been opening up to me more and I’m proud of her. I just thought that it might’ve had something to do with you. You’re one of the biggest influences in her life, you know?”

“Yeah.” Johnny nodded. “I know.”

“And considering you haven’t given me the side eye yet, I think you’ve been happier, too.”

Johnny chuckled.

Then, Yeri cut to the chase and warned aggressively, “Take care of her, Johnny. I trust you, but you know how she can get. And if you break her heart, so help me I will…”

Irene reached for her friend’s hand and quickly interjected, “Yeri, I think they’re gonna be okay.”

Gladly, Johnny thought so, too. Things were far from perfect, though they were still going well and he was simply content to see that you were giving the two of you a try. He was tired of giving more than he was receiving and he had faith that those days were coming to an end.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Johnny repeated, assuringly. He believed it. He believed in you and him together. “But I appreciate all of your concern.”

Arms still folded and eyes still narrowed, Yeri eased up and nodded. Content, she walked off.

Irene rose from the chair and gazed up at Johnny, whispering softly, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being patient with her,” she replied, full of gratitude. Then - in an even tinier voice - she added, “And for doing what I couldn’t have done.”

Johnny said with no hesitation, “I would do anything for her.”

“I know. You’re strong.”

“So are you.”

Irene smiled. With that, she went to go meet back up with the rest of the girls.

Over the course of the following couple of weeks, you had been putting your all into becoming a better person. You kept to your word, steering clear of alcoholic beverages - more especially in mentally trying times - and you vented to your friends whenever necessary. They didn’t mind one bit. Anything was better than your typical methods of extreme self-destruction.

The passionless hook-ups came to an end, too. Johnny and you had never been exclusive, and though you weren’t yet together, it was impossible to do as much as imagine yourself with another person. Johnny’s touch was the only one that you wanted to feel on your body. You wanted to feel the way he poured his heart out to you whenever you had sex.

You wanted love. You wanted passion and fondness and intimacy.

And Johnny delivered.

After a while, you came to a decision about your father. One day, you chose to answer. In those that followed, you stalled to the best of your ability, still indecisively wavering over the option to meet him in person.

But the conversations, both through text and over the phone, swayed you. It broke you to hear his voice and vice versa. Talking to him for the first time in decades was life-changing.

That was how you ended up outside of a restaurant, fast forward some weeks later.

Johnny helped you out of his car, walking you to the front of the building. Your fingers were interwoven, and he let you clutch his hand when you felt nervous. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

You nodded. Though you were sure, you were anxious. And you were grateful that he had so much power over you, to the point that his mere touch made you feel at ease again.

“I’m sure,” you said, clinging close to him.

“Breathe, baby,” Johnny whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your neck. “I’ll be right outside waiting for you. Okay?”

Waiting for you. What would you do without him?

Instead of replying, you whirled around and stood on your tiptoes, kissing his lips. Johnny kissed you back with fervor, holding you like you would fall if he were to let you go.

Through your heavy breaths, both nerve-induced and from the breathlessness of making out with him, you confessed gently, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Johnny replied without hesitation. It was a no-brainer. He loved you. So goddamn much. And that was exactly what you needed to hear. “Now go meet your old man.”

That was the last push you needed. You were standing on the threshold of a self-healing journey and that was what made you swing the gates open.

You approached the table your dad reserved. It must have been miles away, because when you got there, you couldn’t breathe.

Your father looked at you, face full of sincere emotion. He stared at you with so much awe, incredulous through and through. Tears threatened to fall from both of your eyes.

You croaked thickly, “Dad.”

“Princess,” he heaved back.

His arms were wide open and you raced in, desperate. The tears began to rain. You couldn’t even remember the last time that your father had held you. This is what you had been missing. During all those heartbreaking times, this is what you needed most.

Soon, he began to apologize profusely, voice bursting with shame and regret. There was absolutely no satisfactory explanation that he could offer you - you just needed to know that although he couldn’t take it back, he would do whatever it took to earn your forgiveness.

And once you reached closure, you were talking as if the past had never happened and he had always been there.

Your father looked at you and sighed - contentedly. He shook his head, all sullen when he stated, “You’re a woman now.”

You quipped, “And you’re an old man.”

Your father chuckled. He was adapting to your humor very quickly. Perhaps there was a reason why.

After a moment, he asked curiously, “That boy outside your boyfriend?”

“His name’s Johnny,” you smiled, teary-eyed, then confessed, “You should meet him some day.”

“Do you love him?”

There was not a bout of reluctance. “So much.”

“Then, I will.”

You beamed.

There was no holding you back, no reason not to say it proudly anymore. Johnny was yours and you were his. His heart would always belong to you and yours to him. That was the way it was supposed to be. Meant to be.

And some day, your Dad would be walking you down the aisle to the man of your dreams.

[think-like-a-poet]

Ordinary life/ Carlos sainz

Requested by @eonchy

A/N: This is basically only based on the first part of the song. I normally don't write smut, so i hope it isn't all that weird. I am sorry it took so long, i forgot people also requested in the comments. <3

~Heaven in her mouth, got a hell of a tongue

I can feel her teeth when I drive on a bump~

!

MDNI 18+

The thought of people being able to see what you were doing was lost in the back of your mind. You didn't really know how you ended up in this position, but you weren't going to complain now.

Carlos's gaze was focused on the road ahead, well he was trying to be focused when all he could think about was the feeling of your mouth around his cock. His eyes fluttered close every now and then before remembering where he was.

You were bent down in the passenger seat of his Ferrari. If someone would only look more then 2 seconds through the window it would be a clear image of a scandalous headline. Both of you didn't seem to care about the rest. It felt as heaved as your tonque moved up and down his length, Carlos thought and he didn't want it to stop.

Your tongue circled around his hard erection as pre cum dripped on it. You licked it away as you looked for eye contact with your boyfriend who groaned at the action.

The red Ferrari drove over a bump and a moan escaped Carlos's mouth as your teeth scraped his cock. The sound made you turn on more as you felt your panties soak.

"Such a good girl for me," Carlos praised as one hand went to grab your hair. You looked beautiful like this. Cheeks red, lips puffy and hair hanging losly in his lap.

You moaned around his cock from the praise and Carlos almost came on the spot by the sound. It sounded straight up pornographic. You hoped no one was able to hear it outside.

You took him further in, your hand moving to touch the part that wasn't able to fit. The music was fastly changed for the sounds of moans and pops as you continued to blow him.

The thought of being caught flew somewhere in the back of your minds. The thrill of secrecy added pleasure to the whole activity. Was it something normal to do, no, but why live an ordinary life?

With a last lick, Carlos's head was thrown back as he came deep into your mouth. He had to loosen his pressure on the gas as his eyes closed and his fingers let go of the wheel. All moaning he quickly took it back in his hand when the car headlight became closer.

Carlos wouldn't mind if this was how he died. Too lost in his thought to focus on the road ahead. You were definitely worth it.