#would love your guys' feedback on this!

[emphistic]

𝐁𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃, 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ‧

��𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒. fem!Reader, bastard!Sukuna, historial AU - regency era, somewhat enemies to lovers, banter, ballroom dancing, eventual smut [MDNI], table séx, exhibitiönism, semi-public séx, nīpple play, fīngering, loss of vīrginity, jealousy, carriage séx, riding, pörn w/ plot

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. nearly 16k (yikes)

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. sighhhhhh, this took way too long, but im a nerd for jane austen novels and the regency period, so im going to make you a nerd for it, too. available on ao3

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.” — Pride & Prejudice

Whether you liked it or not—or, well, that didn’t matter, really; you had no choice—you had connections. Plenty of them. 

You were the firstborn and only child to a renowned lawyer and his wife—whom you called your parents. Your birth was one of necessity, not out of love and want. Most of your mother and father’s siblings constantly pressured them into conceiving—in order to extend the bloodline, they explained—and so they were coerced into a sense of rushing and urgency. This, however, didn’t diminish any of their affection towards you; you were, after all, their only child, their eldest child, and their most beloved child.

“Wealthy” was quite the understatement when it came to describing your family tree. You were rich in prosperity and success, physically and mentally. Your parents cherished you as their only offspring, gave you only the finest governess, and treated you as more of an equal than a baby. That proved not a problem—seeing as how vast your then and current knowledge was compared to those of average salary.

Being an only child may have been quite out of the ordinary in the present times, but the number of relatives you had was abundant enough that you often felt it was really the opposite.

Your grandparents seemed to have a lot of fun back then, because, each of your parents had at least five siblings, which resulted in a little more than ten aunts and uncles when grouped together. This was, however, not as jolly as it may seem. Your aunts and uncles were all old, had even more children than your grandparents, and loved, loved, loved, critiquing others. They tipped their hats at you when greeting, kissed your cheeks and the backs of your hands, but, regardless, they never failed to mention at least one of your faults and flaws.

In addition to this, you had cousins galore. On your mother’s side was a bit fewer than thirty, while your father’s side consisted of two and twenty. It may be a given, it may be not, but you weren’t as close with your cousins as most would normally be. Sending and receiving letters was seldom exchanged, and meeting at balls and dinners was probably the only times you ever conversed with a cousin or two. Well, except for Charlotte and Helena.

Where could you even begin when describing those two? you often laughed.

They were twins, and would look exactly the same if it wasn’t for the fact that Charlotte had blonde curls that she frequently let down, while Helena often wore a brunette updo atop her head. Since birth, they had been inseparable, and most people usually referred to them as a pair, saying things such as Where are the girls? or Are the girls attending? It was great, really. In truth—concise, and full truth—you loved the girls just as if they were your own sisters; and, sometimes it seemed that way.

You three always read together when the men went shooting birds, gossiped about the townspeople, and often matched your dresses, ribbons, and gloves to each other at balls and other gatherings of the like. Maybe it was due to your compatibility, but if you had to call anyone your best friend, it would have to be the girls.

They were both two years your juniors, but it was a commonly known fact that Charlotte was as intelligent as someone ten years your senior. She pored over literature all day, bent over desks examining records, and was always the one to come to when in need of rational advice. Helena, on the other hand, was a bright girl, but she certainly wasn’t a scholar; her strong suit was her humor and charm. She made acquaintances like no other, and had an almost endless amount of suitors and beaus asking for her hand. 

But, if that wasn’t the case, she would definitely still have an equal amount of friends. Maybe even the whole population of Wadsworth, if Helena wanted. But, really, that would not be much wanted.

The men and women of Wadsworth were numerous, but they were all prickly in their own ways. You often liked to joke that the countryside of Wadsworth was really just one big rose bush; most people were thorns in the sides, while, if you looked deep, there were plenty of roses, as well. Now, you didn’t hate attending balls, per se, but, the main reason keeping you away was that the men knew not how to dance at all, tripped over others’ feet and shoes, and their vocabulary—oh, lord, their vocabulary. It would be much pleasanter if you didn’t even begin on that topic.

Wadsworth was not small—big enough to fit everyone without being too congested—and it laid up north, where the weather was nice all of twelve-month. The grass was always green, and healthy, and the hefty trees provided shade that was more than needed. It was beautiful, absolutely beautiful, and if it wasn’t the people that lured in tourists, it would have to be the scenery and landscaping.

Aside from the actual land, the properties, the estates, and the manors were all also a sight to behold. Wealthy were your neighbors, and your aunts, and your uncles, and the other ladies and the other sirs. Abodes were more grand than not—all at least two stories—had beautiful shrubbery and quite talented gardeners, large windows, and ornate carriages.

The people who filled these properties all had a profuse liking to dancing, and balls were held most frequently. Sometimes at Stratford House—where the girls resided, sometimes at Grantley Hall—the home of another aunt you had, and sometimes somewhere else. You, however, resided in Blackwood Park with your mother and father. It was a luxurious abode; your governess was as knowledgeable as can be, and the staff were all as kind-hearted as to be expected. You had bookshelves all to yourself, and read to your heart’s content whenever you felt the need to decline an invitation to a social gathering.

Prosperous—was your life.

In the middle of drinking tea—another activity you took up with your cousins—a commotion started up in the streets outside. 

All ladies of the town were absolutely, or, at least, nearly under a spell, as they all scrambled to their windows at the sound of hooves and neighing; they went to great lengths such as even peeking behind shutters and curtains, just to attempt even merely a glimpse at the two wealthy—and, if you did say yourself, dashingly dressed—gentlemen that had arrived on their grand steeds; of all their grandeur were individual breeds of andalusian and shire. 

It was, without a doubt, quite the sight to behold on a previously seemingly ordinary Tuesday morning. And, you weren’t at all surprised at the idea of any of your family screaming at the chance of possible suitors for either you or their children.

“Oh my!” gasped Helena, as she set down her tea cup, and hurried to look through the windows of Blackwood. “Pray, do you think the gentlemen are married?”

“I would think so,” sighed Charlotte; “any person who looks like that ought to have ladies lining up at his door, wouldn’t you agree it is so?” 

The blonde turned to you with an expectant look on her face, and you hesitated for an answer. “If they are as handsome as they are dressed, then, maybe. I have not a good look at their faces from this angle.”

“Oh, dear cousin!” cried the girls simultaneously. They were—if you could even call it that way—heavily dejected at the sound of your declaration. It was rational, though, and that’s why they were so clearly affected; if the men were both handsome and wealthy, it was highly plausible that they were with wives, and any possibility of either of the girls being able to flirt with the gentlemen was thus thrown out of the window.

Laughing, you tried your best to console the girls, and patted each of them on the head, before making your way towards the nearest window. This change gave you a way better opportunity to see the men than you had previously thought. Yes, there were two of them, and yes, they were both as handsome as they were dressed—though you would never admit such a thing aloud.

Because they were both on their horses, you could not see who was taller, but you knew that the distinction between them both was crystal clear; their heads were both full of unnaturally colored hair.

There was one gentleman with hair white as snow, and eyes blue as the vast sea; he wore expensive, lavish clothing, and held himself up with confident poise—much like a prince would. The other gentleman had pink, rosy hair, that was of a ruly style—maybe it was unbrushed, you thought. But the first thing you noticed about him was the evident scowl on his face; he looked like the embodiment of a thunderstorm. Beautiful, but formidable.

Subconsciously, throughout your admiring of the wealthy men, you had been pushing the curtains back inch by inch, until, the white-haired man had seemingly taken notice of your observing, and looked up at your figure with an amused expression, before turning to his friend and pointing at you. With a surprised squeak, you pulled back the curtains and hid yourself before the gentlemen could get another look at you (or so you hoped).

“Why on earth did you close the curtains?” the girls cried, again, after noticing—through their misery—that the sight of the men was gone. “Just because they may be possibly married does not mean we cannot admire them all the same.”

“You think so?” you laughed.

“Well, certainly!” nodded Helena, profusely. “We could always just stand in corners of rooms, silently admiring their countenances. Aren’t I correct, sister?”

Charlotte turned to you with an optimistic smile. “Why, yes, you are! You must know, cousin, we are perfectly capable of keeping our mouths shut of flirtatious compliments when we are near married men. You must know.”

“What a nice thing to know, Lottie. But, we have yet to confirm whether the gentlemen are married or not—”

“Oh! bless me! I truly must’ve forgotten that part,” Helena said, as she squealed and kicked her legs back and forth. She was over the moon at hearing the—still unconfirmed—possibility that the men might be single. “Charlotte, sister, can you believe it? Either one or the both of us may be married by next spring!”

“Oh, cousin,” cried Charlotte, as she took your hands into her own, “this is such a wonderful Tuesday morning—”

In the middle of her exclamations of joy, Charlotte was interrupted by the calling of your maid-servant, who announced there was company at the door. Now, you were just seconds away from being informed of who it was, but the girls just couldn’t contain their anticipation, and before your maid-servant could get but another word out, the twins were flying down the stairs with high and hopeful spirits—the tea party completely forgotten.

“Who, in heaven’s name, could it be?” wondered Helena, as she took you by the arm and dragged the both of you downstairs.

“It must, indubitably, be the fine gentlemen,” declared Charlotte. “How could it not?”

But, upon opening the doors, it was indubitably not the fine gentlemen.

Your aunt—Lady Annesley; not to be mistaken as the mother of the girls—was standing outside Blackwood Park. She was widowed six or seven years ago, you couldn’t exactly recall the date; and she resided in a quite grand abode, called the Grantley Hall. She appeared with an anxious look on her face; but after seeing you open the doors, she hurried herself inside with a jolly, merry laugh.

“Oh, girls! All three of you! I have such wonderful news, such wonderful news, indeed.” She kissed each and every one of you on the cheek, and gathered you all into a tight hug; because she was a touchy person like that, but also because she had not seen one of your faces since her temporary departure to Brighton.

“Oh, Lady Annesley!” exclaimed Helena. “Do tell us about your vacation and trip. Did you see any officers and soldiers there?”

“How about the views? Were the waters and beaches pristine?” Charlotte chipped in.

“Oh, yes!” Lady Annesley simultaneously laughed and nodded like a mad woman. “Yes, yes, yes! My word, it was absolutely lovely, and the weather was just extraordinary; I shall certainly take you all there one day, but . . . that is not important in the present time. You know, Helena, I did make some rather pleasant acquaintances with some Admirals and Lieutenants while at the seashore, and I’ve come with some extra company.”

You raised a brow, intrigued. “Are you to remarry?”

Gasps erupted from the lady and the blonde.

“Nonsense. Why, in heaven’s name, would I do that? No, no, the company is not that. You see, girls, the soldiers and officers that I had such a miraculous opportunity to befriend in Brighton have come back with me. Their military regiment is temporarily stationed here in Wadsworth! Can you believe that? When I was informed by Admiral Dawson, I was rendered speechless for a few minutes, you must know. But, ah, that is long forgotten now.

“There must be a ball hosted soon. It shall be at Grantley, I suppose, but a few arrangements will have to be taken care of before then.” Lady Annesley began to quietly murmur to herself afterwards, droning on about plans required to host a proper ball for so many residents of Wadsworth in addition to the many officers and soldiers.

The girls turned to face you with ecstatic expressions as your aunt fell into a subconscious silence.

“Isn’t this just a wonderful Tuesday morning?” asked Helena. “So many possibly unmarried men to gawk at and admire. How do you reckon, cousin, do you think men hardened by weather and work will be more handsome than gentlemen? I am quite curious, I must say.”

Charlotte answered for you. “I’m not even sure we would know. Here in Wadsworth, we’ve never seen any men of rank and occupation as of theirs, have we?”

The three of you shook your heads, shrugged, and wondered—any thought of the wealthy gentlemen was gone, and forgotten about, as Helena walked off to prepare a dress and fan for the ball, Charlotte stayed behind with Lady Annesley to speak about the scenery during her vacation, and you strode off to drink from your previously abandoned tea cup and continue eating the little French biscuits that the girls had brought along.

It was a pleasantly spent Tuesday morning, indeed. However, not much of the same could be said about the next.

You had not been an hour awake until your cousins had barged into your bedroom, and squealed and giggled as they jumped and danced around your room, exclaiming words and nonsense that your morning fog prevented understanding of.

“Oh, cousin! Do you not know? Today will perhaps be the most amazing night of our lives! Just picture it,” Helena began, pulling you out of bed and forcing you to dance with her, “a whole regiment of soldiers and officers will soon be filling Grantley Hall. The chances of any one of us being able to dance with them is highly likely, is it not? Oh! this is wonderful, wonderful, wonderful!”

“Helena, just—just wait a minute,” you said, pausing before Helena could waltz with you any more, “I have not even gotten dressed for breakfast. And the ball isn’t until evening. What are you and Charlotte so excited for? Many hours to come before the ‘most amazing night’ of our lives, you know.”

“Sister,” sighed Helena, as she turned to Charlotte, “you must certainly explain to our dearest cousin.”

Charlotte nodded. “Many hours to come are many hours to prepare. We must prepare our gowns, fans, bonnets, gloves. And, Helena, before I forget, what are we here for in the first place? to practice dancing, of course. Cousin, I’ll have you know, there is absolutely no chance I am letting you stay huddled at the pianoforte the whole night.

“Although your playing is much beloved, and appreciated, I am almost certain there will be others providing their services at the instrument. Whether you like it or not, I am forcing you to dance. If you do not waltz with any men, you will waltz with me or Helena or Lady Annesley.

“At your age of six and twenty, people worry you will end up celibate, you know.”

You hid a faint smile behind your hand. “Is this your way of looking out for me, then?”

The girls laughed, full of cheer.

Fortunately for the twins—who did not leave your side once throughout—both the morning and the afternoon had passed by with a considerable amount of speed. You three had acquired sufficient gowns for the coming evening, and had spent some time finishing up hair and obtaining jewelry and other essential cosmetics.

It had taken the strength and power of both the girls—with the additional help of Lady Annesley—to be able to force you out the doors of Blackwood Park, and consequently, shove you into the carriage parked outside. 

In all honesty, you weren’t in the particular mood to go to a ball, but when your aunt has her mind set on making acquaintances, she will not let go. She often said, Oh, dear niece, think of the men you can meet! or, So many handsome men of great fortunes, or, Rough, calloused, tall; is there anything better? and other similar sayings. It certainly did not help, at all, that Charlotte and Helena only encouraged your aunt.

A husband was never one of your top priorities; dying a single woman was not as unfortunate for you as it would be for other women. You had money, you had wealth, you had prosperity. Some people wed simply for gaining rank and title, carriages and clothes, and estates and property. But you had absolutely no need for any of that. And that’s why, as you walked into Grantley Hall—after what was perhaps the longest, most boring carriage ride of your life—you did not look to see who was handsome, or agreeable, or most rich. 

Instead, you looked for a chance to sit down, or, even, scurry away—from your companions, before they could force you to converse with some puny men, or rekindle your relationships with your many, many aunts and uncles.

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help your eye wandering about the property; and only then, did you notice just how many new people were in Wadsworth at this time of year. Just as your aunt had said; there were officers, soldiers, other members of militia, captains, and men of ranks you could not and did not care to recognize.

Although you weren’t as crazy as Helena and Charlotte—whom you assumed were probably in some corner, certainly already flirting with the single men they managed to find, and blushing and obsessing as wildly as lunatics—you also weren’t as prejudiced to say everyone was of absolutely terrible breeding. You saw some handsome faces, you saw some . . . not handsome faces, but, even with all this, you weren’t intrigued. No, not even in the slightest bit.

In an act of rebellion against your “kidnappers,” you were en route to the pianoforte, when you heard a voice call for you, and saw a figure stop in the middle of your way.

“Good evening, miss,” came the call—from an officer, you assumed. “Pardon my intrusion, for I am simply tempted to make an acquaintance with someone of such great countenance as yours. I almost mistook you for a princess, you know.”

He was tall, had long legs, and a fit figure. His hair was dark, and so were his eyes, which were sharp, and stared back at you with emotion you could not read. Of all men you had noticed, he was, as of late, the most handsome, and by far.

A hand was given; a kiss was placed on the back of the palm; and names were exchanged. You referred to him as Mr. Wright, and, after a few minutes spent in conversation, you deemed him a quite agreeable man, whose good breeding had gone not only into physical appearance, but also into his heart. Mr. Adam Wright had opinions similar to your own, was interested in writings you read, and preferred the entertainment of pianoforte, which you played quite often.

“How have you been liking Wadsworth, sir?” you asked, as the two of you began to make your ways to the instrument in the corner of the hall; Wright had requested to hear you play.

“Very much. Very much so, indeed. It is even more lovely than your aunt (remind me her name again, was it Lady Anne?) had previously said. I’m quite fond of the scenery, actually.”

“Oh, are you? You know, there are many paths to walk where you’ll be able to see breathtaking views, I must say. But, if you dislike walking, it’s safe to say that passing by the gardens and shrubbery of most homes is quite adequate enough.”

“No, no, there will be no need,” Wright said, shaking his head. “I find walking very enjoyable.”

You laughed. “What a coincidence; so do I!”

It was, about a second’s distance away, just before you were beginning to seat yourself at the pianoforte, that you felt another presence behind you. Thinking it was just a friend of Mr. Wright that was only planning on making conversation, you turned around with a smile already on your face, but you were met with the sight of none other than your aunt, Lady Annesley, who appeared buzzy, and a bit gone. Had people already begun to drink? you wondered.

“Dearest niece,” she started, placing a hand on your shoulder, “there are two very fine gentlemen I would like for you to meet. Come along now, child,” your aunt beckoned, but as she noticed the man standing to your right, she paused for a minute, laughed, and then continued, “you do not mind, sir? if I steal my niece away for just a moment? I assure you, there are many nice ladies in here that you can help yourself to.”

Lady Annesley waited not even a second to hear Mr. Wright’s response before she dragged you away to another part of Grantley Hall. You occasionally stumbled over your shoes due to your aunt’s unbalanced speed, and watched as the faces around you came and went in a blur whilst you traveled. Obviously, you knew prior, but you only fully realized how many people were in attendance when you caught the eyes of an old teacher—who, to be completely honest, you had not seen since last  Michaelmas.

“Right this way, my dear,” your aunt said, in a sing-song tone. “I am very eager, you know, for my darling niece to make such very acceptable acquaintances tonight. Not a chance nor a second shall be missed, and, if the gentlemen have not left and juked me, they should still be right . . . here.”

Lady Annesley had stopped so abruptly in her tracks at a corner of the room that you nearly collided with her back, but, fortunately, you did not. Your eyes lifted, and met the view of two very dashingly dressed gentlemen. Brothers, you assumed, who both had equally pink hair, and wore a pair of nearly complete opposite expressions on their faces.

The taller one—who you thought was the brother—had a fine countenance, a very fine countenance, indeed. His lips were pressed in a thin line, and truly brought out the essence of his character. He had sharp features, similarly to Mr. Adam Wright; his eyes were red as the rubies on his brooch, and he looked like the epitome of wealthy and expensive and elegant. His posture was composed, confident, and totally sure of himself; his hands were folded behind his back, and his eyebrows had a slight quirk in them as he, too, looked you over as you approached.

Your eyes then wandered over to the shorter brother, who stood to the right of the taller one. His face was a near replica of the prior, but his features were softened down, a little more dull, if you could even put it that way, and his smile was perhaps the most prominent feature on his face. The youthful countenance of his was on display, and you had no doubt that either Charlotte or Helena had already set their eyes on him. On the other hand, he looked young, very young—younger than you, perchance; an air of innocence was about his figure, and his eyes shone bright as day.

Sunshine, and thunder.

Oh! that is right; you knew these men, or, at least, you knew the taller one.

A corner of your lips tugged upwards as you made the remembrance. This—this man, this great, wealthy man; you had seen him last week! Certainly! He was one of the two gentlemen who rode on their steeds into town, and as of late, you had received no additional information about them except for the fact that they were of extraordinarily good breeding and admirable poise.

Your hand was offered, received and accepted, and was kissed in greeting. Introductions were quickly exchanged, and you happened to learn that the taller gentleman was called Sukuna Ryomen, whilst his (confirmed to be) brother was named Yuuji. To your great surprise, and due to your aunt’s nosiness, you found that the both of them were unmarried, single, and unengaged.

Originally, you had hoped that that would be the end of it, and your aunt would let you be. But, of course, the universe was not on your side this evening, and you were without the ability to leave and peacefully sit at your beloved pianoforte. Instead, you stood, in a corner of Grantley Hall—under numerous chandeliers—as you were forced to exert yourself for the sake of ‘acquainting’ your being with the two brothers, who, too, looked a bit unsettled by your aunt’s coercing to continue conversation.

“Pray,” you began, “is your current companion the same gentleman from when you first arrived?”

“My brother has hair similar to what is on my own head; my previous companion—a friend—has hair white as snow,” stated Mr. Ryomen, his tone declarative. “Have you no eyes, miss? I am quite sure you are capable of answering your own question.”

You could, obviously, make out that Yuuji was, in fact, not the same man from when Mr. Ryomen first arrived at the countryside; but, you were just simply making small talk. Was the country where the brothers came from so unaccustomed to that? you wondered.

“Have you no sociability, sir? I was not informed prior that simply making small conversation was so . . . unwanted by men like you.”

“What, in heaven’s name, is the meaning for this lack of cordiality, I dare ask? Bless me!” exclaimed your aunt, a look of astonishment on her face as she scolded the three of you. “We are all here to make acquaintances, are we not? Let’s shift to another topic. Pray tell, you are here for . . . ?”

“Vacation, miss,” the younger brother smiled. “We have some friends and family living in Wadsworth, but aside from that, Sukuna is also a landowner here—in addition to his other estates (he likes a change of scenery, every once in a while, I must add). I’ve heard how nice the weather is, and decided to visit, as well.”

“Oh, yes! Most certainly!” nodded Lady Annesley. “Wadsworth is a very common tourist countryside, you must know.”

“Is it?” asked the elder brother.

“Have you no ears, sir? That is what was just said; I am quite sure you are capable of answering your own question.”

“My, is that how the ladies around here speak?” quipped Sukuna, his voice velvety, and dripping with honey as he spoke. “—To gentlemen, as well? I may have overestimated your hospitality to newcomers, or, well, vacationers.”

“Excuse her,” your aunt interjected, nervously laughing, “she’s. . . She caught a cold from the recent rain, I’m afraid. Yes, of course, the rain. Isn’t that right?” Lady Annesley nudged you by the elbow. “It’s the rain, isn’t it?”

“. . .Indeed.”

Though your aunt occasionally gave you rebuking looks for your behavior, you had paid no effort in pretending to be engaged in conversation with the brothers. She had, with all her might, tried to erect as many topics and subjects worth speaking of as possible, but to no avail. Her spirits were deflated, and Lady Annesley had concluded that if you were going to marry one day, the chances of it being with Mr. Sukuna Ryomen were close to zero.

You two sent jeering comments and jokes towards each other as if your lives depended on it, and, in truth, you couldn’t count on either of your hands how many times you rolled your eyes. You found Mr. Ryomen to be a highly disagreeable man, and, if it weren’t for his indubitably large fortune and handsome countenance, you would probably call your aunt deranged for even suggesting you mingle with him. Yuuji, his brother, on the other hand, was much agreeable, and his views and prejudices were very reasonable. Of course, the same could not be said about Sukuna.

His interests were in going a-shooting, riding on his stallions, or taking vacations to his various abodes. Yes, he had multiple, and he had no humility to hide that fact; Sukuna’s pride would take up the whole of Wadsworth and more, if it had a physical form. Of course, he had reason to be full of pride: born rich, and would, eventually, die rich. Still, does it hurt so bad to be humble? You didn’t waste your breath asking that question; you knew, after all, that Sukuna had no experience in that department.

“Are you staying long—in Wadsworth?” you asked, looking only at the younger brother. Ignorance was a petty way of spiting someone, you had to admit, but it was childish, and Sukuna was as childish as a child could possibly be.

“Ah, that is the hope,” smiled Yuuji. “I may think of purchasing land here, you know.”

“Isn’t that just wonderful to hear? I would be delighted to have someone as agreeable as you for a neighbor,” you said. “Pray, does your brother live anywhere near Blackwood Park? I heard you mention him having property here, in Wadsworth.”

“I live five miles away from Blackwood,” Sukuna answered, instead, for Yuuji.

Your eyes shifted to meet red ones, and you moved your weight onto a different leg, whilst fanning yourself with your fan. “I do not recall asking you, sir.”

Sukuna scoffed. “Is it not sensible to answer on my own behalf?”

“Perhaps so. But, I find that nothing you do is sensible,” you laughed. “So, either way, there is really no difference.”

It would be a highly plausible assumption to make by saying that Mr. Ryomen Sukuna was pampered to no end as a child, and never denied any fundamentals or trivials. If that was truly the case, then, you could have sworn you saw an unrecognizable glint flash in his ruby eyes at the sound of your constant discourtesy. Unbeknownst to you, Sukuna had, in fact, been coddled as much as you had assumed. And, just hearing his name being so mercilessly abused was already enough to intrigue him. There was, in a sense, something so alluring and bewitching about your recklessness in conversation, that Sukuna couldn’t help but long for more of the hearing your insults.

Lady Annesley, on the other hand, was extremely disappointed at your behavior, and couldn’t find any reason—no matter searching—for your incredible disdain towards the eldest of the two gentlemen. Your ridiculous bickering and bantering would only serve in embarrassing your aunt’s reputation in Wadsworth, and that was far from what Lady Annesley dreamed of. The only thing she could thank God for was that you weren’t nearly as prejudiced towards Yuuji as you were to his brother.

“Pray, how about we all dance, yes?” your aunt proposed, in faux cheerful spirits. “Shall my niece partner with the younger gentleman?”

“Oh, I’m quite afraid that could not be made possible, miss,” said Yuuji, as he offered an apologetic expression. “My leg is in incredible pain, and I must—with much embarrassment—admit to my having fallen once while riding here. I may have chosen to travel on quite a rowdy stallion, but it is only myself that I have to blame.”

With a politeness you could never aim towards Sukuna, you offered up your condolences, and, with a smile, proposed that the two of you sat down whilst the other attendees danced to their heart’s content. (If it wasn’t obvious before, you were very desperate for any excuse to avoid dancing.) But, to your dismay, Yuuji had declined sitting down, and explained that he had a few other people he was interested in speaking with before the end of the night, and, with a well mannered farewell, bid the three of you adieu.

“Well, upon my word, your parents have done a good job raising that fellow,” added Lady Annesley, a sorry expression on her face as she watched the only other pacifist in your party walk away with an uneven gait, which further proved his excuse.

“Whether that was by the work of my parents, or a governess, or something unspoken, is debatable,” the pink-haired man remarked.

“Or, perhaps, he was merely born with the admirably civil heart he has now. That is quite rare, I must say, in this time, and among these people.” You directed that last bit towards Sukuna, and it was probably pretty clear—seeing as red eyes met yours with just as much animosity soon after your little witty comment.

At first, you were merely treating Sukuna with the same omitted amount of respect he was giving you, but now, you found yourself starting to rather enjoy bullying him. It was pointless banter, after all, and you were almost certain Sukuna felt the same way. Although you felt a sense of dislike towards the man, you couldn’t help but be fond of the way he was, probably, the only other man you could banter with so lightly.

Your unconventional views and dislikes and interests often provoked strong emotion and irritation in most gentlemen, and you weren’t thought to be very agreeable. But, as for the pink-haired gentleman, he took your abusing words with little to no offense. There was the occasional annoyance displayed on his features: like a little furrow of the brow, or crinkle of the nose; but it was almost humorous—seeing as a small smile usually appeared soon after—as if he found your insults to be jokes.

After a pregnant pause, Sukuna broke the silence by saying, “Do you dance, madam?”

“Will you force me?”

“If it cannot be helped.”

You hadn’t actually thought to dance with a man like Sukuna, but upon hearing this concise exchange between her niece and hopefully future nephew-in-law, your aunt thought there was nothing better in the world than to usher the both of you to the center of Grantley Hall herself, and force you two to dance among the rest of the attendees. The orchestrated music was loud—loud enough so that little to no one could hear your protesting complaints, and Lady Annesley, smiling to herself at finally having succeeded in getting you to properly socialize, walked away in the direction of the drinks.

Looking at your aunt’s back as she walked away, you sighed; all your attempts at escaping had been fruitless, futile, and done in vain. For, whilst a pianoforte played in a ¾ time signature, you turned to face Sukuna with a sorrowful expression, but you were instead met with a contrasting smile.

“I have never danced with a lady like you before, miss,” he said, in a condescending tone, as he took your hesitant hands into his, and readied himself for a slow, smooth, elegant waltz.

Sukuna’s hands were calloused, rough, and large compared to your own; he was, certainly, a man. 

A warmth spread throughout your body as you made contact with his skin, and it was almost electrifying, like nothing you had ever felt before. It’s safe to say you were expecting something else, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“You must not dance very often, then. I can assure you, with no doubt, that there is not much to put me aside from others.”

The two of you began to move at a languid speed, and soon caught up to the velocity of most other dancers, though, even in such a large and crowded space, you couldn’t help but feel as if it was just the two of you. The two of you dancing, the two of you talking; the two of you.

“I can name plenty of distinguishing aspects you have.”

“Is that so?” you asked.

“Indeed.”

“My, my, my, do enlighten me, Mr. Ryomen.”

“Do you mean it is not obvious?” he asked, looking into your eyes with intent.

You responded with the shaking of your head.

“Your eyes—somehow brighter than most. Your smile—infectious, even to someone such as I.” Sukuna’s words were spoken with the utmost sincerity, and you could tell, from his tone, that he meant every word he said; although it surprised you to be complimented by him, you couldn’t help the warmth that rose to your cheeks. “Your laughter—melodious to even the deaf. And you, yourself—I find you alluring.”

“. . .”

“Is your silence a sign of disbelief?”

In truth, you weren’t exactly familiar with hearing such a plethora of compliments, and, since it came from someone you could never expect it from, it made you all the more embarrassed.

“I beg your pardon, sir. You find me . . . alluring?”

“It shall be known, soon enough, that I am a man who thinks what he says. I do not say what I do not mean, miss.”

Through keeping your head down, you avoided meeting Sukuna’s eyes with all your might, but still, you could feel his penetrating gaze piercing holes through your face. Listening to the music in the background was a method you used in an attempt to calm your nerves, but all was fruitless in the end. If Sukuna had not the way of words he did now, his voice would certainly make up for it. Thick, sultry, velvety; it was absolutely ludicrous how bothered it made you, and you had to occasionally let out a cough to cover up the way you swallowed the frequent lumps in your throat.

After having settled in silence for a few counts of three, Sukuna smiled, laughing at your sudden shyness. “I have heard lots of great things about you, you must know.”

“Is—Is that so?”

“So it is,” he nodded, before continuing; “your aunt—Lady Annesley, was it?—had briefly spoken about you, in addition to her other nieces and nephews, when she first approached me and my brother.”

At this, you laughed, finally having built up the courage to meet Sukuna in the eyes. “I am concerned about what she might have had to say.”

“All good things, I assure you.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were holding, before continuing on in casual conversation. Your banter from earlier had grown severely scarce, and was evidently replaced with subtly flirtatious comments. All the while, you found yourself growing embarrassed more than ever, but over time, you had gradually worked up a familiarity towards the compliments, and felt rather at ease whilst simultaneously talking and dancing with Mr. Ryomen Sukuna—who appeared as cool and composed as per usual.

It was after the pianoforte’s playing had ended, that the crowd had disconnected from the partners, curtseyed and bowed to one another, and burst into applauds of plaudits. The room was lively, with its guests chatting and talking with delight at such a wonderful dance they had danced just moments prior. People took seconds to recollect themselves, by either grabbing glasses of water, or fanning themselves before the next waltz. You, on the other hand, had begun to make your way to the pianoforte, before you were stopped again (yes, again; why on earth was everyone so opposed to letting you play music nowadays?).

There was a nudge against the back of your elbow, and you turned around with much grace, just to be met with the same face from before.

“Could I trouble you for another round, miss?” came that velvety voice you loved so much.

It was Mr. Ryomen Sukuna, and he was with the objective of claiming yet another spot on your dance card this evening. How wonderful, just so, so very wonderful. . .

“. . .And just what type of round are we speaking of, sir?”

Sukuna’s countenance held the expression of mischief, and playful doing, as he leaned his face down closer to yours, till you couldn’t distinguish the line between your and his breath. “Whatever you’d prefer, my fair lady.”

As a smile made its way onto your face, Sukuna did just as he had done before: gathering your warm hands into his cold ones, and bringing the both of you into another waltz just as the euphonious music began again for a second time that evening. While you could never admit it aloud, as the hours passed by, you soon found yourself forgetting all about your beloved pianoforte—that could, as of late, be put off for maybe just a little longer.

***

“All we did was waltz—just like everybody else! What, in heaven’s name, is so unusual about that?”

Your cousins had called on you the next morning after the ball at Grantley, and waited not a second before asking—no, demanding—you to tell them about all that had happened whilst they were away and mingling. (Yes, you were, in fact, correct in assuming that the girls had been acquainting themselves with officers galore and other various gentlemen that same evening.) But, despite them having a most eventful evening themselves, they were, by far, more curious as to hearing about your experience.

“Yes, you waltzed,” Charlotte replied, exasperated, “we know that; we saw it! after all. But, but, but, not only did you waltz together, you waltzed together twice! Can you believe that, Helena? A wealthy—and, if I must say, handsome—gentleman claimed not one, but two spots on our very dear cousin’s dance card last evening!”

“It is oh-so wonderful!” cried Helena, absolutely overjoyed at the fact you were finally socializing for once. “But, do not forget, sister, that Mr. Ryomen Sukuna, the very man our dearest cousin danced with, also held her hands without gloves! Without gloves! Bless me! I find I shall faint if not cautious, you know.”

The girls gossiped and confabulated over yesterday’s events with much interest and engagement. They teased you, giggled at the way you waltzed with a man right after verbally abusing him, and accepted his hand twice. It seemed that they could not and would not let it go that you had danced with such a man last evening, and it seemed the only way you could get them to leave their current attentions was to mention their events and who they danced with—to which, they were most delighted to answer you.

“Shall we tell her, Lottie?” exclaimed Helena, eager to reminisce about the ball she had. “Shall we tell her?”

“Of course, of course!”

And so, with that, the minds of the girls had been successfully veered over to the subject of other men. Helena recalled chatting with several young officers, all who were, as she said, “charming, and effectively handsome, but they were, unfortunately, as taciturn as to make people assume them mute.” Helena complained about how she could only get acquainted with most officers if she was the one who spoke up first; which, in her eyes, was terribly unacceptable.

Charlotte, on the other hand, was not as extroverted as her twin sister, though, she was pretty enough so that people approached her before she had to open her mouth to anyone. She had made acquaintances with “very fine gentlemen, very fine and intellectual gentlemen, indeed,” and laughed and chatted about poetry and philosophy almost all night long. She geeked out on her favorite authors and thinkers, and her interlocutors reciprocated with their own. It was a most enjoyable night for her—seeing as most people of Wadsworth did not find such topics in conversations as pleasant as Charlotte did.

“Did you know, cousin,” began the blonde, “that such an abundance of officers read poetry?”

“Nay, I did not, but go on.”

And go on, she did. Whenever Charlotte spoke of writing and literature, she rarely even took a breath to breathe. She was like that: always very passionate about her favorite subjects, and she was rarely able to notice if the people around her had started to bore or not—but, it mattered not; Charlotte wouldn’t have stopped talking anyway, unless, by a chance, she found herself getting thirsty. Yes, she got thirsty quite often, and you often joked (all in good nature, of course) that it was due to how much she talked.

The three of you had spent the entire morning gossiping over tea and biscuits, until a maid-servant had called you all for lunch, and you all burst into quite a harmoniously-sounding fit of laughter at the realization that, throughout your chitter chatter, you had finished neither one cup of tea, nor one plate of pastries. It was a pleasantly spent morning, indeed.

That week passed by with much ease, and the next one passed by similarly. There was even one day, where, you had been met with the fortunate coincidence of crossing paths with none other than Mr. Adam Wright whilst on your daily walk outside of Blackwood Park.

“Good day, miss,” he began, in a smooth voice, “how do you do?”

“Oh! bless me; you had me startled there—for a minute, Mr. Wright. But, I am very well; I thank you.”

“I beg your finest pardon, madam,” replied he, before bowing his head ever so slightly. “I did not mean to alarm you.”

You waved your hand around in a dismissing manner. “And, to what do I owe the honor of running into you today, sir?”

“Ah, I was just admiring the views you were telling me about. You know, when we were chatting about nature and shrubbery? Yes, well, I find your suggestions to be very credible, for this is quite the place you have here, miss.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wright, very generous of you to say so.” You smiled.

“No need to thank me, I am sure you receive compliments on your home thousands upon thousands of times each day. Pray, how many acres is Blackwood Park?”

“I would assume a little above three thousand.”

“Is that so?”

“So it is,” you said, smiling. “Why the face? Do not you believe me?” you joked, seemingly in a playful mood this morning.

“I ought to walk with you around the park in order to further prove your answer.”

As you two linked arms, and began to walk around the park, surrounded by bushes and trimmed shrubbery under the shade-providing trees, you wondered if this was Mr. Wright’s attempt at flirting, or getting to know you. But, either way, you kept a smile on your face and walked, explaining the paths and routes and terrain as you did so.

“Do you walk often, miss?”

“I believe I told you that I did—at Grantley. Or have you already forgotten? I didn’t know you paid so little to a supposed princess’s words, sir.”

Mr. Wright laughed. “It was an assumption, I explained. If you shall continue to tease me on that subject, I may become humiliated, you know.”

“What if that’s my goal?”

“Then, I suppose, the ladies here in Wadsworth must be very cruel.”

The both of you turned a corner, walking a new veered path as the sun bathed you in light. You were just about to reposition your parasol to shield yourself from the blinding radiance, when, out of the blue, a hand came up to cover your eyes from above; it was discovered to be Mr. Adam Wright’s.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, heat rising to your cheeks. “I thank you, sir.”

“It is not a problem,” began the officer; “you repay me by showing me the very nice landscaping here, after all.”

“. . .Ah, I see.”

In truth, you had not been in hopes of being joined in your walk this autumn morning, and you usually preferred solitude in times like these, but, alas, you had been joined by an officer, and were now to show him the ways around Blackwood Park and the rest of Wadsworth. You would be lying if you said it didn’t bother you in the slightest. . .

The both of you walked and talked: admiring the beautiful river of Northwick, crossing the bridge above said river, speaking of the chestnuts that had fallen from deciduous trees, and laughing about the squirrels above; all of this up until lunchtime, when you two departed—you, who had arrived at Stratford House to exchange your calling card with Charlotte and Helena, and Mr. Adam Wright, who had the objective of going forth to the shops.

Upon entering Stratford, you were greeted by the sight of two very excited twins.

“Oh, cousin! You’re here!” cried Helena. “We were waiting for your call, you know.”

“Hm, well, isn’t that lovely? What were you waiting for, exactly?”

“I’m not surprised you weren’t informed as of late; it was very last minute,” began Charlotte, “but, we were invited to Kendall Manor, actually. All three of us!” The blonde gestured to you, herself, and her sister.

“Kendall?” you repeated, raising your eyebrows. “Well, color me intrigued, then.”

Kendall Manor was a very envied spot in Wadsworth. With many beautiful arts there, it was a very famous spot for tourists to visit; you had even been there once or twice, whilst paying respects to its multitude of pianofortes and large collection of literature. Outside, it had high walls, lakes, an abundance of land, and various fountains throughout. The estate was known, but, in contrast, its owner was not.

For as long as you had lived, the possessor of Kendall Manor had never been present in Wadsworth. Not much information was of him, whoever he was, but the one piece of knowledge regarding him, was that he was alive and well. Maybe in a neighboring country, maybe somewhere else, no one knew where, but everyone knew he was there. It worked out, though; if so many people were visiting and entering Kendall Manor each day, surely the owner would be bothered, but in this case, that didn’t matter; the owner wasn’t even there!

“Come, lovie,” began Charlotte, as she ushered you upstairs to a changing room; “we must make haste! The chaise and four have already been called for, and not a second can be of waste.”

You had been dressed, your hair done, and your face painted, before you were, again, shoved into a carriage and driven off to Kendall Manor. It happened incredibly quickly, and gave you whiplash all the while.

“Do you two happen to know who specifically invited us lot?” you asked. “I wasn’t familiar with the fact that the owner of Kendall Manor was in the country; was it the doing of a servant? Or was the manor let?”

“Dear cousin, you worry too much,” laughed Helena. “We should instead rejoice at the opportunity of another party; we are bound to have a ball, after all. Why does the host matter?”

You grumbled, and sat silent for the rest of the ride. It was strange; why now? Why did the owner of Kendall decide to come home now? And, why on earth did he invite you and the girls? As far as you were concerned, you had no acquaintance with him, whoever he was, and neither did your family or any other relations you had.

Whilst basking in your confusion and wonder, the horses had come to a stop outside of a quite magnificent abode, and you instantly knew that this was Kendall Manor. Four or five thousand acres of land, under the blazing sun. Beautiful, vast, and plagued with mystery.

The three of you were taken up the stairs, and led inside by a valet, where you were greeted with the even more surprising sight of the rest of your family: some aunts and uncles, Lady Annesley, and others you did not care to name. If that wasn’t enough to make your jaw drop, you noticed half (if not all) of Wadsworth residents and even a few familiar faces of officers from the regiment temporarily stationed in the countryside; but, try as you might, your eyes could not set upon the countenance of Mr. Adam Wright—who was, probably, out at the shops, and alone.

What was this? Why was everyone here?

“Forgive my lack of planning prior,” began a velvety voice you knew well; and when you turned to the sound of that voice, you were met with the face of Mr. Ryomen Sukuna, standing next to his brother. “Welcome, all, to Kendall Manor.”

It was quickly explained that this was a party, in celebration of Mr. Ryomen, who had finally returned to his home country of Wadsworth, and was planning on staying for longer than he had been gone. He wanted to make acquaintances with all the people he would’ve known had he been here instead of at all his other estates and properties.

The guests were introduced to a large variety of pastries and biscuits and drinks and other desserts from the other counties Sukuna had been staying at previously. People asked him about what his other homes were like: if they were much different from Kendall of Wadsworth, and he—with his usual disagreeableness—did not even try to act humble as he described his very prosperous and fortunate self.

There were many ladies of Wadsworth that were single, and none of them wasted any chance in practically throwing themselves at the owner of the manor. In addition, Charlotte and Helena, once standing beside you, were now off and talking with a number of officers, having a very pleasant afternoon themselves.

You, on the other hand, were not much interested in speaking about subjects such as these, and, accompanied by very few people, walked into a nearby drawing room. Though you were not much of a card-player yourself, it was, perhaps, the only source of entertainment you could find within the walls of Kendall (except for playing pianoforte, which the girls forbade you). A table for Whist was set up, and a party of four, including yourself, began to play.

For a few rounds, you thought you had found peace, but no, a thunderstorm had soon followed you all the way into the drawing room. Mr. Ryomen had come, and was accompanied by the other guests, who were all flocking to him like birds.

“Shall we all play a game for more of us?” began the pink-haired gentleman. He was clearly doing this on purpose; his face told you all you needed to know: he was disturbing your peace and quiet for the simple motive of being a bother.

Of course, no one could refuse the host of such a grand party, and a much larger game table was soon set up, so that many could sit down and gamble. You had the unfortunate fate of being seated between the host, and Lady Annesley; and, although you were near at least one good relative, your aunt paid minimal attention to you, for she was seated beside Admiral Dawson, whom she was grossly engaged in conversation with.

Throughout the betting game, either your or Sukuna’s seat had been gradually inching closer to the other’s, to the point your shoulders were practically touching, and so were your elbows, which occasionally bumped together, causing the both of you to mutter curses or complaints.

“Why don’t you move nearer to your brother, sir? I am sure it would be much appreciated,” you jeered, obviously fed up with the amount of hits you were receiving.

“Careful there, miss. Lying too much can be detrimental.”

“‘Lying’? Oh, please. There is no truth in my saying ‘I enjoy sitting beside you’.”

“Of course,” laughed Sukuna, in a mocking tone. “Of course, Miss Untouchable. How could I forget? you just have a problem with everyone these days.”

“. . .”

“I wasn’t at all aware, you know, that such a disagreeable woman like you existed. Though, I can’t say it was unexpected; your countenance gives quite a fair hint to everyone when looking at you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I am sure the absolute same could be said about you, sir.”

“What a coincidence!” teased Sukuna. “I was beginning to think we had nothing in common.”

Narrowing your eyes, you stabbed the heel of your shoe onto Sukuna’s, but he let out neither a curse nor a groan of pain.

Instead, Sukuna rested his arm on the back of your chair with an overwhelming grip as he leaned his face closer to yours; and you could’ve sworn you could see the red of his eyes swirling together in a mix, as if a tornado. The tips of your noses were only centimeters apart, and you couldn’t draw a line between where your breath ended and where his started even if you had to.

Your eyes met with equal resentment and agitation, as if there was a mutual message being sent from merely your locked gazes alone, but then, to your surprise, his stare drifted up to your hat.

“Various shades of blue and green, with gold as an accent,” he noted, in a slurred tone, almost as if he was drunk.

“Well, yes. Have you never seen a peacock feather?”

“Two of which are both colors on the cooler side of the color spectrum,” he continued, paying no mind to your words; “but, I must say, red would suit you much better, my darling.”

Your eyes widened at the sound of this, and your gaze fell to your fidgety hands in your laps. Still, you wasted no time in quipping, “I have no doubt I would wear the color much better than you, Mr. Ryomen Sukuna.”

“I can imagine that, but I would rather see it with my own eyes,” he said, eyes trailing back down to your lips.

“. . .”

The hand that was previously draped over the back of your chair slowly but surely made its way down, until it was draped over your hip, gripping and kneading the flesh there. Your breath caught in your throat, and you turned to face Sukuna with an incredulous expression. You mouthed the words What on earth are you doing? To which, the pink-haired man only responded with Nothing you wouldn’t want, my lady.

In order for the hand on your hip to not be visible, you had to scoot your chair as far away from Lady Annesley as you could, and press your body as close to Sukuna’s as you could possibly venture. The rest of the drawing room remained boisterous, and completely oblivious to the scandalous act you had going on with the party’s host.

As his hand lowered down to the ends of your dress, and his fingers crept up your skirt, your cheeks warmed to an extreme extent, and you tugged on Sukuna’s sleeve, desperate for something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. This was utterly humiliating! you thought. What was the meaning for this? And in the middle of a party?

His hands felt cold, and you frequently shivered as they moved at a dreadfully slow speed up your legs, before settling in between your thighs. If your face wasn’t as red as a tomato before, it surely was now. For, you had originally thought that clamping your thighs together would be the perfect plan to get Sukuna to stop his movements, but no, it made everything altogether worse. By a thousand degrees.

His hand was stuck between your thighs, and, like the bastard he was, Mr. Ryomen Sukuna thought it would be such a fun thing to move your panties aside, and put pressure on your clit, which, consequently, resulted in you having to cover your mouth with your fan, to hide and shield the whimpers that came soon after.

“Nnghh.”

His fingers then removed themselves, to which you gasped in relief, but before you could utter another word, you were interrupted by his fingers entering you once more, in a quite diligent fashion. They curled and twisted, and reached deep inside of you, but alas, you could do nothing but writhe; you couldn’t bear this predicament you had gotten yourself into being exposed to the rest of the party guests, and you couldn’t—without feeling shame—let it be known that the feeling of Sukuna’s fingers was rather pleasurable.

Your whole body’s temperature rose, and you couldn’t help the moans that left your lips. This feeling was so . . . strange; you had never felt anything like this before. So overwhelming with both pain and pleasure, and incredibly scandalous. If anyone were to find out what you were doing—never mind, you need not know.

Sukuna’s lips ghosted the shell of your ear, before whispering, “Don’t fight it.”

One finger, then two, and now three.

“F-Fight what?” you managed, between whimpers. “What are you doing?”

With your thighs still clamped together and squeezing around his hand, the pleasure of Sukuna’s fingers moving within you was highly intensified, and your expression twisted into one of embarrassing lewdness. The suddenly appeared knot in your stomach had tightened, and you had soon reached your peak only moments later, your release clinging to Sukuna’s fingers, which were still deep inside of you.

“Hahh, Sukunngh,” you moaned, eyes squeezing shut as you hid your face from other guests behind your fan.

Just as you were recovering from your body’s physical reaction and occasional jolts, Sukuna’s voice suddenly sounded in the room, and everyone and their mother turned to face him, completely unbeknownst to the fact that his hand was still in between your legs.

You didn’t hear much of what he said—your head still swimming, and your self dazed—but you managed to make out a few words, where Sukuna had explained that there were numerous hallways in Kendall that were filled from top to bottom with many famous and beautiful paintings and other art works. The guests were unsurprised by this knowledge, but nonetheless, they were greatly intrigued, and as a valet of Sukuna’s led the party out of the drawing room, Sukuna sat back down (after making sure everyone had exited) and turned to you with a smug expression—never once removing his fingers from deep within you.

“Sukuna,” you mewled, nearly going crazy at the realization that the man would probably never run out of stamina to finger you, “what are you doing?”

Whilst grinning like a mad man, Sukuna pulled you onto his lap within the blink of an eye, which resulted in your back being flush with his hard chest. Beyond shocked, you gasped, but before you could get out another word, you felt the tickling sensation of lips dragging down your clavicle and shoulders, peppering kisses on several moles and freckles you had there.

There was a growing warmth in your core, and though you writhed and wriggled in his grasps, you couldn’t help but (after a few moments) finally succumb to his touches and caresses. A sigh left your lips, and you leaned back against the body behind you.

“Sukuna, I—ahh, w-why?”

Just as you were beginning to relax, Sukuna removed his hand from between your legs and, with the assistance of his other hand, pulled the top of your dress down, leaving the bare skin of your chest revealed to the empty drawing room and cool air. 

“You’re so beautiful, my lady,” he slurred, eyes glued to your exposed tits.

Without wasting a moment, Sukuna began to pull and twist and press at your nipples, which were beginning to harden at his assaults. Your back arched, and you let out an embarrassingly loud moan at the unfamiliar feeling of pleasure. This was totally erotic! you thought, though you did nothing to stop it. As your nipples were carelessly toyed with to Sukuna’s content, your body twisted and squirmed all the while, but to no avail.

As if a child playing with a new toy for the first time, Sukuna squeezed and squeezed at the wholes of your tits, admiring the way your buds pebbled at the attention they were receiving. Your legs kicked at nothing, and you thrashed around wildly; and, if things couldn’t get more lewd, you felt the sensation of a warm, wet tongue lick a stripe up your neck.

Pornographic moans, whimpers, and cries filled the empty drawing room, and you couldn’t even imagine the looks on people’s faces if they returned from the gallery early.

“Nnghh! Ah—ah—ahh! Sukuna!” You panted, delirious.

“Mmm, that’s it, sweetheart,” said Sukuna, as he kissed and nipped at your throat. “Don’t hold back; just let out all your cute little noises for me.”

The hands which groped at your breast soon paused in their assaults, and as you began to catch your breath, you felt them gradually slide down the curves of your body, all the way to your thighs, where they hiked up the material of your skirt, pulling it up to your stomach, which left your panties and dignity exposed.

“. . .Sukuna?” You blinked.

“Ha! You’ve become so wet just from my hands alone, that I think it would be no trouble at all for you to take my cock right about . . . now.”

“What—oh! Mmph!”

Apparently, Mr. Ryomen Sukuna had a major problem with cutting people off, because, just as you were about to ask what he very well meant by that, your hips were tightly gripped onto, your body was raised, and you cried out as you were soon slammed back down onto Sukuna’s cock. All the words in your throat had been swallowed, and your brain turned to mush as you felt so utterly full from his girth and length alone; it was so . . . big. You had never done anything as insane as this, and as moans and cries left your lips left and right, you couldn’t distinguish whether you felt more pain or pleasure.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and your face twisted into that of incredible lewdness; your hands gripped onto Sukuna’s biceps, and your nails dug into his muscles, surely leaving crescent-shaped marks in the way.

“Shit, gorgeous,” he groaned. “You’re so tight. Ever been fucked before?”

“Nnghh, n-no. . . No!”

“That’s. . . Fuck. You mean I’m the first one to touch you like this?”

Sukuna gripped and groped onto your tits as he spoke, before raising up your hips and slamming them back down just like before. One second, you were empty, the next, you were so impossibly full, and then so on and so forth. As Sukuna repeated this for God knows how long, you nearly passed out from the overwhelming pleasure you felt everywhere. From the calloused hands on your hips, to the length of his cock sliding in and out and up and down your walls, to the warm breath fanning your ear. It was all so much.

You had never known pleasure like this before, and you wondered if this was but a dream.

As you rolled your hips, trying desperately for more friction, you were stopped by the feeling of two hands gripping onto the meat of your hips with a strength that was sure to result in bruising the next morrow.

“Why do you move, darling?” Sukuna leaned down to whisper in your ear, and a shiver ran down your spine. “I’ve got you right where I want you.”

Whilst you bounced sensuously on his lap, Sukuna didn’t show an ounce of shame as he stared with incredible lust at the sight of your tits bouncing up and down. The tip of his cock penetrated you in places you didn’t even know existed until now, and you couldn’t help the plethora of moans that left your lips. 

Just as before, the knot in your stomach tightened to an unbearable height, and with one last rough thrust, you came right on Sukuna’s cock; your bodily fluids dripping down his shaft and leaving a sticky feeling between your thighs as they dried.

“So?” began Sukuna, bringing you out of your dazed state.

In confusion, your brows knitted together. “I—I beg your pardon?”

“How was it?”

“How was . . . what?”

You could hear Sukuna scoff from behind you. “Are you that dense, my dear lady? Or have you already forgotten what we have—mind you—just done?”

“. . .I’m afraid my memory is not as sufficient as one’s might be,” you teased, despite yourself.

The corner of Sukuna’s lip quirked upwards, into a grin, as a mischievous expression made its way onto his face. “Shall we refresh your memory, then?”

“How so?”

With his cock still buried deep inside of you to the hilt, Sukuna stood up and moved your bodies in tandem until he was able to lay the top half of your body on the drawing room’s table. Your bare tits pressed up against the rough wood, and you groaned in relief as you laid the side of your face down.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) for you, Sukuna had no even the slightest idea of relaxing on his mind, and as the lids of your eyes began to droop, Sukuna woke you straight up with a hard thrust inside your cunt, which slightly shook the table and resulted in a rather unpleasant sound reverberating throughout the living space.

This, completely, caught you off guard, and the scream that left your throat was to be expected. “Ahh! I—hahh.”

Your back arched, your hair was pulled towards Sukuna, your neck soon began to ache; you saw stars as Sukuna continued his thrusts from before with more (if not the same amount of) force, and you wondered if the walls were thin enough for servants or party guests to hear you from all the way down the hall.

Maybe it was ridiculous, maybe it was not, but as Sukuna’s cock continued to fill you to the hilt, you could’ve sworn you felt him in your guts. Callings of his name, moans of gibberish, and et cetera, left your lips as if in a prayer to God. You panted, you gasped, and your breath got caught in your throat as the table rocked beneath your and Sukuna’s weight.

If not for his stable grip on your hips, you would’ve fallen and crashed to the floor from how your knees buckled and turned to seemingly nothingness.

“Has your memory been refreshed, my lady?” began Sukuna, in a jeering tone.

“I—nnghh, not . . . not quite.” Though you were barley conscious at this point, and pleasure nearly consumed your whole being, you couldn’t help but joke. However, as the speed and force of Sukuna’s thrusts began to increase, you soon found yourself thinking how foolish it was to joke in such a predicament.

“Yeah? How about now?”

Both hands on your hips had left, and instead found their way to your tits, where they groped and squeezed to Sukuna’s liking.

This may have been your breaking point; and as your back arched and the volume of your lewd cries increased, you found yourself grinding your ass back against Sukuna’s crotch. The extra friction brought you over the edge, and you moaned and moaned like a bitch in heat as you came once more.

You didn’t remember much of what came after that (A/N: pun intended), but you knew you had somehow managed to dress yourself and fix your disheveled appearance right as soon as half of the party returned to the drawing room. Whilst the guests drank in the sight of you, Sukuna, on the other hand, had fixed his pants, and casually seated himself on his chair.

“Oh, my niece,” exclaimed a bewildered Lady Annesley, “you are already here.”

You stopped like a deer in front of a carriage driver’s torch, and stuttered as you struggled for an answer. “Yes, I—I quickly lost interest while looking at the artwork, and decided to return here to play another game of cards.”

“So you say? Well, upon my word, what card game did you play that resulted in your countenance to glow so pleasantly as it does now?”

For a second, you had thought your aunt had somehow discovered what you and Mr. Ryomen Sukuna were getting up to whilst alone in the drawing room, but after a moment’s silence, you quickly realized she was being genuine, and, like her usual chaotic-self, was simply wondering about a possible new skincare routine. At this newfound conclusion, you let out a sigh of relief, and continued in conversation for the remaining duration of the party at Kendall.

However, at the back of your mind remained the still recent memory of what it was like to have your brains fucked out by none other than Mr. Ryomen Sukuna, who, whilst he pretended to linger around your being while you chatted with relatives, occasionally trailed a playful finger up your spine, which always resulted in your breath being caught in your throat, as you feared he would do something similar to what he did before the guests had left.

***

It was late—well into the evening, really—when a messenger on his horse had come by with mail in his inventory.

A fortnight had passed since that . . . incident in Kendall Manor’s drawing room, and you had been avoiding Sukuna ever since. You feared that if you did otherwise, you would begin to develop an unhealthy relationship with his cock, which, even after fourteen days, you had not forgotten the feeling of. It was strange, to say the least. At first, you had thought Sukuna to be a very disagreeable man, a very disagreeable man, indeed; but now, he was . . . well, no, he was the same, but his dick, on the other hand, was much more agreeable.

You had never thought yourself to be one to have sexual intercourse before marriage, but maybe there could be an exception for someone like Mr. Ryomen Sukuna.

Sometimes, you laid awake at night, at times past the Devil’s hour, you assumed, and tossed and turned and tried to replicate how Sukuna’s fingers felt, how his mouth made you feel, how full his cock made you, but to no avail. You would, eventually, scream into your pillow out of frustration, and pass out from exhaustion.

Damn him. Damn him and his whole entire lineage.

Who was he to make you feel this way, huh? Who was he to come waltzing into Wadsworth with his expensive little steed and expensive fucking clothes, and leave you high and dry? Who was he to spoil you for your future spouse? He had no right, absolutely none.

And so, when a messenger and his horse came to the doors of Blackwood Park, you could probably imagine the distress and anxiety you had suffered. All the color had been drained from your face, for you wondered if a letter had come from Mr. Ryomen Sukuna himself; your mother and your father had even noticed how pale you had gotten, and, in their worry, asked you how you felt, to which you replied with a short answer, but it contained everything but the truth.

Upon reading the label, you found the manilla paper to be addressed to none other than you. Even more horrified, you searched frantically for a name, and after reading the words Mr. Adam Wright, you seemed to calm down by a few degrees.

“Open it, cousin! Open it!” cried Helena; for the girls had been at Blackwood since sundown, and were planning on sleeping over, which was, actually, pretty common between the three of you.

“Shall I have no privacy even in my own home?” you joked.

The girls laughed, before exiting your room and running downstairs.

With a sigh, and a tired groan, you began to unravel the letter.

To your astonishment, it was almost four pages! Four pages, filled from top to bottom with a confession of . . . love‽ Love—from Mr. Adam Wright? What, in heaven’s name, could’ve produced such a feeling as this? you wondered. Sure, maybe you had flirted with the officer a few times, but it was only minor incidents, and you had done them with the imagination that nothing could come of it. But no, you couldn’t have been more wrong.

Mr. Adam Wright was in love with you.

In his letter, he frequently quoted phrases from your favorite books and epics, but none of them seemed to affect you more than with distraught and horror. He confessed he was too much of a coward to profess his love in person, and, in addition, claimed he could not say all that he felt for you, for he felt too much to say, and writing it down was as close as he could get to letting everything out.

He was in love with your laugh, your smile, your mind, and your soul.

“I have never conversed with a lady quite as charming as you, miss. Your character is incredibly suitable to my likes and my dislikes, and I find, if I had never met you, I would have never met the love of my life. You bewitch me, physically and mentally.”

You had to admit, he was quite poetic when it came to writing a confession of love and admiration, but it pained you more than it flattered you, for, you did not feel even an ounce of the same feeling. Guilt and regret plagued your mind as you read through the seemingly never-ending paragraphs, and yet, you could not and would not accept that someone such as Mr. Adam Wright was in love with you.

It seemed . . . preposterous.

You had never thought of him in that way whatsoever. Well, he was handsome, and he was smart and quite the agreeable man, but he wasn’t what you wanted. There had to be someone out there that would reciprocate his feelings, but it wouldn’t be you. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

After reading the letter maybe three times (just to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you), you sat down for a moment of silence, before opening your door and calling for the girls. Upon their entering, you immediately explained the contents of the letter, and, with a very desperate tone of voice, pleaded for any advice they could give.

“Well, this is. . . I’m quite appalled, dear cousin,” began Charlotte; “but, just to be clear, you do not feel the same way?”

“I’m not sure I would be asking for advice if I did.” You laughed, trying to cope with humor.

“I, for one, think you should send a letter back,” suggested Helena.

“. . .You know, I would do that, actually, but, the thing is, Wright wants to see me.”

Both of the sisters asked what you meant by that.

“In his letter, towards the end of it, I am sure, he asks to see me, near Northwick. I assume he means he wants to propose on the bridge; we walked there once, you see.”

“And you did not think to tell us until now?” cried Helena.

You raised your hands in defense. “Hey, I didn’t think much of it.”

“This is quite the predicament you’ve gotten yourself into,” declared Charlotte.

And this was quite the predicament, indeed. The next morning, a little after breakfast, you had begun to walk to Northwick. And, upon reaching sight of the bridge, you had found that Mr. Adam Wright was already there. He looked confident, he looked sure, he looked sharp; which just made you twice as guilty.

Before arriving, you had assured yourself everything was going to be just dandy; you would get it over with as quick as possible, and then attend the play you had been invited to by a couple of friends. The proposal of Mr. Adam Wright would be soon forgotten about, and you would sing and dance and be merry for the rest of the day.

“My lady, how do you do?” Wright was always quick when it came to greeting you. “I assume you’ve received my letter?”

“I am quite fine this morning, sir; and yes.”

“Have you any response?”

You nodded, before saying, “I am . . . rather flattered to receive a proposal from such a man as you, Mr. Adam Wright, but I am afraid I cannot give you my hand in marriage.”

You had consequently explained your reasoning, and how you did not reciprocate any romantic feelings such as love towards Mr. Wright, who accepted your words with a very solemn expression. That was a nice quality of his: to be able to accept rejection, and you even noted how you thought he was a very agreeable man, who was sure to find a wife sooner or later.

“There are many balls that occur in Wadsworth, with many women who attend, but, if that fails, an itinerant profession such as yours indubitably has the aspects to acquire a spouse within a lifetime—yes, I am sure.”

“I see you do not accept my proposal, then; very well. Good morning, miss.”

With the tipping of his hat, and a very quick farewell, the two of you parted ways.

A few hours had come by after your declination, and you soon found yourself standing outside of Grantley Hall with Charlotte and Helena, Lady Annesley, a few other relatives and friends, and Mr. Ryomen Sukuna and his brother. You hadn’t expected to see either of them any time soon, but maybe your aunt was just very sociable, and considered them to be friends.

Upon noticing Sukuna’s face amongst the crowd, you immediately ducked away, and subtly hid yourself behind your aunt, who was taller and broader than you, and could serve as a pseudo-shield, but of course, your efforts were noticed and fruitless, in the end.

Sukuna had caught sight of your figure, and made eye contact with you for a relatively long time, before turning back to a conversation with his brother.

“Everyone seems to be here,” began your aunt, double-checking the party; “how about we begin our journey? The theater is quite far, I heard.”

And so, everyone had started to pile into a multitude of carriages and vehicles. Unfortunately, with such a large party as you were in, you obviously had the luck of being stuck with none other than the Devil himself—Mr. Ryomen Sukuna. There was no other room for you with anyone else you knew; you had received offers to switch seats, but due to your having taken a liking to rejecting people (A/N: this is a joke; please laugh), you had declined them all.

In consequence, you and Sukuna were forced to ride in a carriage—alone.

The cushions were small, and you were forced to acquire a seat right beside Sukuna. Your shoulders bumped occasionally, due to the jolts of the carriage and the bumpy road, but that was about it. You were neither squished nor totally uncomfortable. And, at first, it was quite pleasant, actually. Neither you nor Sukuna spoke much, due to your embarrassment, and his . . . indifference? so you had no reason to stutter or stumble over words. Well, that was, until Sukuna decided to bring up a certain someone into the conversation.

“It seems you have taken quite the partiality towards Wright,” he began; and you could practically feel his piercing stare burning holes through your head, but alas, you kept your eyes on the road, and avoided eye contact—which was beginning to prove to be quite the challenge.

“We are acquaintances.”

“Just acquaintances?”

You sighed. “It depends on how you define the word ‘acquaintance,’ I suppose.”

“You know, my lady, I have heard quite a rumor this morning—regarding you and that officer.”

You froze, an infinite amount of ideas popping into your head, before snapping your neck to meet Sukuna’s much amused ones. “Pray, have you any idea how rude it is to bring up a subject without elaborating,? You, sir, ought to explain further.”

Sukuna, ignoring your words, cast his eyes downward, saying, “Show me your hand,” with as less emotion and as much authority as humanly possible.

Perhaps in an act of childish rebellion, you covered your gloved hands, and put them aside. “I do not see how that is of any relevance.”

“What a coincidence; I do.” Scoffing, Sukuna took your left hand into his, and held it up to his face, completely disregarding your protests and fruitless attempts at flailing around.

When he found what he wanted, he placed your hand down, and looked at your pout with a smug expression. “I take it you are not engaged, then?”

“I’ve no ring,” came your curt reply, before crossing your arms over your chest. You had initially hoped to fool him for even a bit longer, but Sukuna was more resourceful (forceful) than you could admit.

Sukuna laughed. “Miss Untouchable refused Mr. Adam Wright? What a spectacle that surely was. Say, the next time you reject a proposal, let me know prior so I can sit and watch.”

“When Hell freezes over, I will.”

Leaning over to peer into your eyes, Sukuna offered a shit-eating grin. “You can be so rude, my fair lady.”

Finally meeting his eyes at last, you couldn’t help the abusing words that soon left your lips. “You call me ‘rude,’ I hear? That is how you think of me? What about yourself, then, sir? Is the way you treat a lady such as I any different than ‘rude,’ I wonder?”

Sukuna grabbed your hips and dragged you onto his lap as you continued to berate and rip at him whilst he remained totally unfazed. He had become used to your character at this point, and your insults and scolding merely droned on in the background as his mind was set on other things.

“How else am I rude, madam?”

“When you—When you. . .” You paused, averting eye contact. “When you make me feel . . . this way.”

“And, pray tell,” began Sukuna, as he grabbed your chin and forced you to look in his eye, “what way do I make you feel?”

You chewed at your bottom lip, and out of frustration, could not form much to say.

When Sukuna noticed your hesitance, and your embarrassment, he decided to take matters into his own hands, and as a smile began to etch on his face, he lifted the ends of your dress, piling it at your waist, before beginning to trail his hands up your bare thighs at a teasingly unbearable speed.

At the familiar act, your breath caught in your throat, and you clawed at the lapels of Sukuna’s coat jacket.

Without stopping for even a beat, Sukuna’s cold, slender fingers made their way up your thighs, and began to ghost over the wetness that had formed at your entrance.

“My, my, my, don’t tell me, was it your anger at me that got you so wet, or was it my mere showing up today?”

“Neither, you bastard.”

As if possessed by an entity, (or maybe it was because you just couldn’t take it anymore), you grabbed Sukuna by the collar, and roughly—and clumsily—smashed his lips against yours. Almost immediately, his hands squeezed and groped at your ass, as he met your lips with an almost equally fervent kiss.

You had never done something so deliberately and scandalous before (except for that evening at Kendall, but that doesn’t count), and you almost wondered if you were doing everything wrong. But, seeing as you could feel a growing hardness beneath your bottom, you were soon assured of your quite capable abilities.

“Fuck, darling. Have you been waiting to do this?” he murmured, between kisses.

“Mm, yeah—in your dreams.”

Your bodies moved in sync, as if two puzzle pieces designed just for each other, and sounds of sensuous and sensual activity soon began to fill the carriage. Sukuna’s hands trailed down your ass as you kissed, and he didn’t waste any time before shoving your panties aside, and pushing one, then two, fingers in.

The unexpected action elicited a moan from your lips, and you tugged and pulled at Sukuna’s hair as if searching for leverage against the assault between your legs.

His fingers curled within you and moved at a speed that accelerated every second; the painful realization had soon hit you, that, God, you had truly missed this feeling. Slick dripped down your legs, and was, probably, staining the material of Sukuna’s pants, but it wasn’t like either one of you cared.

One of Sukuna’s hands gripped onto the flesh of your ass, while the other toyed with and fingered your dripping cunt; his lips moved against yours like an animal in heat, whilst your arms had been thrown and looped around his neck. The carriage shook and wobbled as it traversed the uneven roads, and that pushed you even closer to Sukuna, leaving you in quite the scandalous position—with your tits pressed up against his chest, your hands tangled in his unruly hair, and his mouth on yours.

It was a missed feeling—the salty taste of his lips—and when the both of you parted, for the inconvenient sake of catching your breaths, Sukuna moved the hand on your ass to shove the top of your dress down to your waist, leaving you nearly bare: in all your glory—just for him.

His eyes roamed your body like a predator admiring prey, and while you leaned your front against him, Sukuna leaned his head down, to your shoulders, to kiss at and suck at all the exposed skin he could reach.

It was incredibly lewd—the sounds you released, and you couldn’t even fathom how the others would react if they saw you: you and Sukuna, doing whatever the hell it was that you two were doing at the moment.

As your volume increased, so did the speed and velocity of his fingers. There was a warm feeling at your core, and you soon found yourself releasing all over his hand—still deep within your cunt—as pornographic moans and cries and mewls escaped your throat.

“Nnghh! Hah, mphh, Sukuna . . . Sukuna—Sukuna!” His name left your lips like a prayer, and you could only hope that the pearly gates would still open for you after this hell of a carriage ride.

“You are . . . inimitable, my love,” he purred, “and extremely, inhumanly bewitching. Fuck, do you think you’re wet enough to take it? I am afraid I cannot loiter any longer.”

It didn’t matter what you thought; you knew you were, and as Sukuna lifted your hips, before bringing them down right onto his cock—which filled you to the brim, and impossibly more than last time—you knew this carriage ride would probably be your last. At least, it would be your last carriage ride with him.

Your hips were raised, before they were repeatedly slammed back down with enough force to bring the both of you crashing down onto the seats; your tits bounced, whimpers left your parched throat, and you could barely hold onto Sukuna’s shoulders for balance and support as the carriage began to jolt and jerk uncontrollably, causing unbearably pleasurable friction.

Heaven’s sake, how bumpy was this road?—goddamnit.

In addition to the bouncing of the carriage, the hands and claws digging into your ass, the marks and bites being left on your chest, there was also the rough thrusts from Sukuna, which brought you nearly over the edge. Your eyes rolled back into your head as the tip of Sukuna’s cock could be felt penetrating all the way in your guts, and to add on to the smell of sex wafting through the humid air, the discordant melody of your moans certainly added a little bit pizzazz.

You wanted more, you needed more, you craved more.

Sukuna’s length and girth slid up the walls of your cunt, and you swore you could feel every pulsing vein of his cock as it moved and twitched. You were so unbearably full; you struggled to form full words, and most of them only contributed to unintelligible sentences meaning nothing.

“Ahh, nnghh, hahh, mmph.”

“What, don’t tell me little Miss Untouchable over here is suddenly feeling pleasure from some low-life bastard such as I,” laughed Sukuna, who, for some reason unbeknownst to you, still had some humor left in him even whilst he had fucked you into putty in his hands.

“I . . . nnghh, do you ever stop talking?”

Sukuna laughed, a husky, dark laugh, before bringing you in for the most zealous kiss you had ever kissed. Your lips collided, smacking against each other’s, and your hands clumsily roamed each other’s bodies, before one last jolt of the carriage had you feeling every inch of Sukuna’s length in the absolute right-est spot you could ever imagine, and as you moaned into the kiss, the knot in your stomach tightened just as before, and you almost felt like you were under drugs as you came. 

Sticky, hot, and warm.

Unbearable, highly bothersome, and completely insane.

You were filled to the brim with Sukuna’s seed just a moment later, and a string of saliva from your lips connected you and Sukuna for a few seconds more as the both of you pulled away to catch your breaths.

“Now, before I go and do something foolish,” began Sukuna, still partially panting, “tell me, dear, do you feel like rejecting another man’s proposal today?”

[hahskeleton]

helloo!! hope youre having a good day :3

was wondering if i could get a drabble of the dca helping reader with something medical? sickfic, stitches, yadda yadda. reader being embarrassed, the whole "i can do it myself" shabang. im a sucker for "patching up" tropes </3 im CURSED!!

Title: Sick but Fine

Word Count: 1,492

CW: nothing, just a lil bit of sick y/n

You hurried through the rain up to the huge doors of the Pizzaplex, feeling heavy-headed and congested. Your body ached and protested that you stay home today, but you couldn’t miss work.

To clear your head of any thoughts of sickness, you thought about how you were probably supposed to take the employee entrance, but why did it matter? Nobody would care, and nobody does. Besides, the front entrance has a much warmer welcome than the old door in the back.

But putting that aside, you rushed through the crowds to get to the daycare. You were already late, trying to push through the sea of people going to see the band’s show was going to make you even more late.

You swore half these people saw the show every day. How does it never get old? You never saw it more than once. Other than that, you only heard kids begging Sun and Moon to take them to see it. The answer was always no.

You finally made it to the doors leading to the Superstar Daycare, and as you entered the completely empty lobby, you sneezed. And you sneezed again. And again. And again. You stopped in the dead center of the room and calmed yourself down. You weren’t supposed to come to work sick. You had to do everything in your power to make sure that Vanessa didn’t find out you had a fever, she’d kick you out.

The final breath you took before you left the lobby was deep and long, and then you left for the stairs and went down to the entrance. Before you opened the large doors to the daycare, you rubbed your eyes and stood a little taller, trying to pass the I’m not sick look.

Finally, you pushed open one of the doors and stepped into the brightly lit daycare. A few kids ran around away from the rest of the children, and over by the ball pit was Sun playing who knows what with quite a few kids. He looked up at you, and his rays spun around, clearly quite happy to see you.

You waved and took your route to the main desk, setting your plastic water bottle next to the computer. “Sunshine!” You jumped, and though Sun did this nearly every day, his popping up suddenly caught you off guard each time.

You cleared your throat, “Hey, Sunny.” You smiled at him.

Sun leaned over the desk and watched you for a moment as you pulled out your chair and sat down. You heard the sunbot say your name with a bit of concern.

Your mind snapped to how you looked—probably a little under the weather. “Yeah?” You replied, acting oblivious.

Sun stood up straight and gestured his hands accordingly as he spoke, “You look a little rosy-cheeked today! Everything's all right?”

You nodded, “Yeah, why?” You lied.

Sun twitched, “Sunflower, you seem… are- are you sure you should be coming into work today? I- I mean, it’s not that we don’t want you here! Moony and I- I mean, you just look unwell, do you have…” He reached over the desk in an attempt to feel your forehead for a fever. You knew you were flaring up, so as Sun tried to place a hand on your forehead, you pushed it away and said, “I’m fine, Sun.”

He would frown, and then he groaned with displeasure, “If you say so...” You stood up from the desk and stretched, “Oh, could you grab the box of art supplies from the closet, please?” Sun chimed, his rays swaying blissfully as he walked along.

You nodded and left for the closet. Sun waved you off and then turned back to the children.

“Moony… I don’t think-”

“Neither do I. They are sick.” Moon’s voice rang from inside Sun’s head, the moon and the sun animatronics speaking through their shared headspace.

“What do you think...? Should we help? Or should we… leave them be?” Sun asked, looking back, scanning around for you even though he just sent you to the closet.

“Leave it to me.” Moon said without hesitation, immediately thinking up a plan.  

You took the box of art supplies from the closet, wandered back to the daycare, and dropped it on the counter. Sun turned around and sighed, then he called all the kids to the tables and signaled for you to bring the box over. You did as you were told and lugged it over, plopping it on the ground beside Sun. “Thank you, Sunshine!” He beamed with enthusiasm, digging through the box and grabbing what he needed.

You watched as he started to pass out the art supplies, and you started to space out.

You were tired. You felt someone tap your shoulder, and you snapped out of it, shaking your head vaguely as you realized Sun had been talking to you. “Sunbite…? You okay?”

You nodded, “Oh, yeah, sorry. I just spaced out for a moment.”

Sun’s brows knitted, but he just turned back to the kids and supervised them. Eventually he sat down and started to color with the rest of the kids, and so did you.

Before you knew it, nap time came around. You went back behind the desk and waited for the lights to go out. Maybe you could get at least five minutes of rest while Moon was taking care of the kids.

Finally, the lights dimmed and went dark. There were a few clicking sounds and the sound of shifting metal, and that told you that Sun and Moon were switching.

The next thing you knew, Moon peeked over the desk at you. "Hey, Moon.” You smiled at him.

He popped up onto the desk, crouching on it as a perch, “Hello, starlight~!” He hummed, his sharp teeth spreading in a wide grin.

“The kids are looking for you.” You said, looking past Moon. “I’m aware.” He jumped down from the desk and lingered behind it, “I’ll be back in a moment,” he whispered, heading off into the darkness to fulfill his job.

Just like he said he would, Moon returned to the desk. But you didn’t see him. He came stealthily from behind and grabbed you, pulling you off your chair.

“MOON!” You whisper-screamed, mindful of the kids that were sleeping.

He shifted you into a position in his arms where one arm held your legs, the other your back and head. He ignored your squirming and complaining and started to walk away from the desk.

Moon’s skyhook came down and attached to his back, and then he was carried up to the platform where his room was. “Moon, what are you doing…!?” You hissed, pushing to get out of his arms.

He walked off the balcony, detaching his hook, and went into his and Sun’s room. It was messy but cozy, with soft lights hanging from the ceiling that weren’t enough for Sun to come out, and blankets and pillows everywhere. There were cleaning supplies and other daycare products in some corners, too.

Moon carried you to a couch in the corner and plopped you down onto it. You tried to stand, but Moon pushed you back onto the red sofa.

“Lay down.” He demanded simply.

“What are you doing?” You groaned, folding your arms over your chest.

“You are sick. You need to rest, so I am putting you to sleep.”

“I am NOT sick! I’m fine!” You hollered in a mutter, standing from the couch and taking a few steps away before Moon inevitably pushed you back onto the couch.

“I don’t care whether you think you’re fine or not. You are going to rest because you are not fine.” Moon grabbed a blanket and a bunch of pillows. He lifted your head and placed a pillow behind you, then covered you with a blanket.

You shook him away, “I can take care of myself, Moon.” You took the blanket off and turned your body, planting your feet to stand, when you suddenly had a huge, painful coughing fit. Your chest felt like it was burning and on fire, and your throat was dry and sore.

Moon just watched you from across the room, arms crossed and a monotone expression. “So. How’s being fine going for you, Starlight?” He murmured, his eyes narrowing.

You shot him a glare, “All right, fine…” You laid back down and covered yourself up, “I’ll sleep…” You moped, turning yourself so you were facing the couch and not Moon.

You heard Moon shuffle closer to you, and then he sat beside the couch. You turned over and looked at him, but he didn’t look at you.

Your arm hung over the edge of the sofa, your fingers barely brushing the hard ground. Moon looked at your hand and thought for a moment before he mended his fingers into yours.

It was silent.

It was calm.

“Thanks, Moon…” you said under your breath, your eyes closing with heaviness and comfort.

He sighed, “Any time, Starlight.”

[duckieduccss]

NEW KAIJU OC?!?!

Well, yea technically. Basically i was interested in figuring out how id go with making my own kaiju. At first i wasnt sure where to go for designing one. So i chose to base it off another existing kaiju for inspiration. I kinda wanted to go for a dragon type kaiju (i like dragons) and the only thing i could think of was Ghidorah so i went with that (now that i think about it more, I could’ve maybe used Manda too prob but oh well, Ghidorah was still a good option). I added some different details to mine that make it unique to the og Ghidorah

My idea was that it could potentially be a relative to Ghidorah (being of the same species) but still far apart from one another to the point they arent all that aware of the other existing (theyre in for a shock when & if they do encounter each other lol). This version actually relies on cosmic energy derived from such sources like stars & generally anything that produce some form of energy within the vast universe (basing it off how Ghidorah themselves originally came from space & this variant being much more dependent on that factor). It stores that energy & relatively stays in a dormant stage for an extended period of time until when faced with the challenge to defend itself or fight off those it deems as a danger. Then it would release all that ginormous amount of space energy that manifests itself as a rapidly expanding glow of extremely bright light. Enough to cause extreme damage & bring down the opposition. It can gather energy by using special crystals it can grow (took that also as inspiration but from Space Godzilla) & become as some form of attracting & absorbing the energy. In a way, the energy is like its main source of food & energy to maintain itself (right after releasing a lot of it during its final attack of using that glow, it would be put in a highly vulnerable state if not recovered by regaining some energy back soon enough). For the most part, they mostly sleep (being lazy 24/7 just like me fr lmao) to keep all that energy but can be potentially dangerous if disturbed or provoked in some manner

(Here’s a better closer look at their faces. Realized the canvas’ too big to properly see each of them-)

The name of this kaiju you may be wondering???

It’s Ryudorah

(Yea i know im the most creative person out there. I combined another nickname i use for myself and just added the end part of Ghidorah’s name to make it clear it’s related to the other kaiju. I couldn’t think of anything else im sorry😭)

And also each head has its own individual name:

Do, Re & Mi

(Named after intervals in the musical scale (ex: Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, Ti, Do)

Did i mention this kaiju can also technically sing too :)

I did have a lot of fun with coming up with the concept for them (tho it honestly took longer in designing them due to a busy schedule ive been put in as of late & finding the time to finish it) but im glad to finally be able to share this with you all. Hopefully I can share more about them soon (i have a whole google doc’s worth of lore lmao) & probably draw them again (tho maybe a lot more simplified by then). Didn’t wanna overwhelm ppl with the huge amount of info so I’ll prob slowly reveal more over time.

[Another thing too is that i still am new to the fandom (tho with more knowledge from getting to learn more from the source material) & most of this i gathered from already know stuff i knew. Tho im also open to feedback & maybe some ideas to add onto my own kaiju. So id very much appreciate it if there’s any suggestions from you guys ^^⭐️]

(I’ll only be taking constructive criticism btw. Anything hateful will obv be ignored)

[dottores]

Wtf did you put on my timeline 😀

Since the history of Y/N stories, the reader ALWAYS had a backstory. I fail to see how this suddenly makes Y/N a OC. The same goes for gender. Usually in the description or first sentence you would immediately know Y/N’s gender. It’s nice to be inclusive but you can’t force the author to cater to a specific demographic.

I will admit though: I LOATHE when a author enforces a skintone onto Y/N without mentioning it in the beginning. The fact this stuff is rarely tag is pretty annoying. If authors have to tag their fanfic with “POC!Reader” to point out that reader is meant to have a ethnic background, for the love of god please do the same if the reader is meant to be interpreted as white. Nothing puts me out of a story when I envisioned a character to fit the story only to see them described as “pale, fair skinned” by the narrator several paragraphs later.

There is a really nice plugin for AO3 where it can replace pronouns and fill in the Y/N slot with an actual name. It would be nice if such a plugin existed for tumblr. Authors won’t have to give into obligations and those who feel alienated can still enjoy the work.

PLEASEEEEEE AJFHASIUDFHU IF I HAD TO SEE IT YOU GUYS ALL HAVE TO TOO. i am a firm believer of sharing is caring <3

EXACTLY, like especially for authors who do long fics or series, giving reader 0 personality/no background story is next to impossible unless you just want them to like ... be there and take no initiative in the story and just have things happen to them and for them to have no reaction to anything. like even in smut and headcanons, there are going to be little things you can pick out personality-wise, its next to impossible to just have a cardboard cut out reader for any type of fic, much less long fics/series. someone will always disagree with something <- but tee explained this all better in her long rb addition to that post

AND I TOTALLY AGREE! like they had very valid points about physical appearance and properly tagging gender, but i hate the fact that they added all of those valid points in that mess of an argument of why "x reader fics" should have no personality or background, because i felt as if it was totally taking away from that. it's two totally separate issues that they were trying to combine into one big one but just made an even bigger mess out of it.

for real! ao3's tagging system is top tier like i know a lot of people find it confusing but it's so nice to be able to filter any and everything you want or don't want.

[skitskatdacat63]

Please god, can someone give me the strength to write ANOTHER 900 word essay in German, I DON'T WANNA I DONT WANNA PLEASE NO

[yappacadaver]

and it's like despite all the awful shit he's done and continues to do, like, i get it. he's employed like 24/7/365. he never got to live a life, despite spending a childhood clinging to the hope of having one someday. He knew companionship and love but lost it and can't ever get it back. His circumstances are so anomalous and gruesome that it completely isolates him from pretty much every other human being on the planet. he knows hell is real and he is basically guaranteed to go there if he can't break this demon curse thing.

like it doesn't make the kidnapping and spreading the curse around any better, but i do get it.

[crimeronan]

it's wild to fall in love with the work of niche authors and artists who post online cause like. a lot of the time i'll look these people up and they have less than 2k followers on twitter. which in turn means that the relationship between us can EASILY stop being parasocial. like i can reach out to these people as a peer in social media DMs like "hey, your short story in X anthology is still haunting me" or "hey, this one podcast episode was brilliant and meant a lot to me" or "hey, i absolutely LOVED your take on X myth, have you published any other riffs on irish mythology??" and there's like a 98% chance that they will not only see it but Also respond. and that in turn we could become acquaintances and even possibly FRIENDS, because we already have shared common ground in our niche interests.

and this fucking Terrifies me.

i've had So Many positive online interactions with creators whose work i dearly dearly love, & i know that online creators love to get feedback (because i am one), & i know that it's exciting to talk to people who share your specific interest in horror or myth or linguistics etc, & i STILL have an immediate panic spiral every time an author or artist replies to..... like..... my offhand youtube comments.

[throughtrialbyfire]

also my to-read list is a mile long but i AM getting to it!! life is just very busy 💞 ily guys, thank u for all of the support on the things ive posted here, it truly means the world to me I Cannot Emphasize That Enough, and i am giving all of u warm tea/coffee and Wip Motivation Vibes rn

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

hi!! i’m a fan of ur work and i was going to ask if ur requests will be opening again??

Hi there! I’m currently in a rough spot to tell you the truth-

I’ve got a stack of requests sitting in my inbox. There’s like- twenty-something asks that I have to write. And I’ve got a new computer now and I’ll have some free time opening when school starts, I’ve got a bunch of stuff going on but I’ve got study halls and I have like three options on my hands here-

I sit down and force myself to write out all the requests that have sat there because I owe it to all of the people like you who took the time to send in an ask before I own the request again

I delete all the requests in my inbox and start brand-new with the school year to try and restart everything

I keep a few requests that I can work with, delete the ones I’m struggling with, and open requests to start again soon

So…yeah. I don’t know what I’m going to do…

[unproduciblesmackdown]

being alive at the time i gleaned some general elements abt encanto but never actually heard we don't talk about bruno beyond awareness it existed popping off & i think i heard like the title recited off key off rhythm but in a way that indicates speak singing nonetheless lol so upon experiencing it it's like oh but it's the Verses? while the last refrain goes harder but prior to that it's comparatively underwhelming to said verses which feels appropriate like verses / pieces of a larger picture & that a "we don't talk about him" as a disappointing Lid on infinitely richer more characterful & dynamic "but: talking about him" instances. like well personally it'd be like um seven foot frame....anyway besides being able to firsthand go like oh damn Real (the kind of thing you know exists if alive at the time) it's like alright hang on lol. one thing when a core theme is yeah like "is it a refuge if 'especial' vulnerability ultimately gets pushed out rather than made safer" subset like the parties whose even observation of truths (problems) & drawing attention to them is seen as Ruining Things, like if you're painted as Making futures that aren't simply what's desired or reassuring rather than a guidance via just observing & sharing the truth. but then it's like whaddaya mean living in fear of bruno stuttering and stumbling you could always hear him sort of muttering and mumbling lmao like now that's just Association between the Truth Perceiving & Telling behavior & behavior that's just apparently distinctive of the same person. & like Not Accidentally when [what if people were magic] specifics are obviously primarily abt a metaphorical meaning & like, indeed it was made clear like oh this situation isn't Just b/c [boo we hate your prophecies] & that [an Ability that isn't directed towards what anyone Wants / is "weird" even by these magic standards] isn't Coincidentally given to someone who just so happens to already be "weird" in other ways & be set up to have a different perspective & be pushed away due to having the supposed "extra" vulnerability of unmet needs / insufficient support, same as someone who doesn't "correctly" have any kind of magic ability....like yeah banger and also like Oh Yeah Kind Of Devastating re: that metaphorical resonance allowing for like [set the metaphor aside] now hang on with this about this disabled family member lol. misinterpretation to The Ruinerrr / The Problemmm / The Maliciousss etc (i.e. the scapegoatinggg) despite their efforts likely entirely to the contrary. then despite like, efforts aside, Just Existing, always kind of muttering & mumbling like & what of it. & then like oh sorry weird pets. weird [auspicious for adaptable tenacious thriving surviving; either way simply creatures, existing] pets.

truly like As Is The Idea I'm Sure quickly becomes like hands behind back standing at the window Uh Oh Sisters musing on all the [disabled person] metaphorical & already literal elements there. blair witching it in contemplation like We've All Been There whether being so resented for the mere disruption of "existing in a group as the 'abnormal' odd one out" or like people talking shit abt anything associated w/you as soon as you've left the room, which is also made relevant like, this wasn't Only directed at this person when seemingly permanently gone, nor were they unaware / unaffected prior....pacing in the Musing parlor like things don't Have to be compared to billions but i only ever even see so many things & it's like billions sure is like "get scapegoated rword" & then said scapegoating is presented as only beneficial & we hate autists & even beyond that it's like, grabbing billions, Imagine If Things Meant To Be About Something Were About Something. quite a contrast when they are & furthermore like, deliberate thought & Care for [who gets scapegoated & why] & the truth of like, people getting pushed aside & out who have a key perspective & are primed / liable to come through for others similarly vulnerable & the supposedly Ruinous, Problems Generating disruptiveness is actually the strongest effort to make essential changes to a group. & come through with like, it'd be undermining thee point if it was "reassuring" us like oh haha people will be supportive b/c bruno will be more normal, so great that it Didn't like no, no Normality Reassurance(tm), presence of abnormalities(tm), Good, & everyone Can Deal b/c if you don't then it's pushing this person away, is exactly what happens, including even if they're still Around but are being mistreated b/c that is entirely part of that pushing away like anyone's victim blaming is ready to pounce at any time but if someone can't stand to stay / leaves b/c they can't see another option like that's not out of nowhere nor Regardless of what full support & flexibility they were getting lol. these Active Measures everyone loves so much, which are everywhere always & would include Staying & Trying To Make It Work & those efforts would be "disruptive" & resented & Bringing It On Oneself & etccc smh

that is to all say like. Woww when clearly basically the core thread was these beats of like, the crucial site of [thee scapegoated], & why that comes down on someone & how that plays out. endless ideas about how someone weird(tm) & disabled (&/or queer. but there's no Or here lol. & again like it's a Context like, to even be the one person without kids? likely not living up to "full" correct sexuality in that way alone; any oppression's logics of "inferiority" being logics of ableism, ready examples being that "inferior" race, gender, sexuality (& their experiences as people classed as inferior) all being pathologized as disordered) are seen & treated as someone Ruining Things & who cannot belong like whew. bracing. winding. which, i also recall like i was watching with headphones & during this one dialogue pause i was like "?? what's this Extra Sound i heard there" & had to go over it like twice before being hit upside the head like well it Was still the dialogue pause but it was also bruno Stuttering in a very quiet whisper for the duration of that pause before continuing like iiiiiiii x_x

[ragnars-tooth]

I should not have been taught so badly for 3 years that i genuinely have to google how to find job postings in my field. "Get a degree!! Get a degree!!" for why. To be laughed at by out of touch tutors and not taught anything? It's certainly not going to help me get a job because i CANT FIND THEM. "People will see you went here and that will give you credibility." Will it roderick. Because I now know not to trust a motherfucker who went here 💀

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Baby fever

AN: I'm sure your shock has been imagined that I wrote this. I haven't even watched the video fully yet because I should be have been trying to work on my final assignments for the semester but, I've seen enough to prompt me to write this very impulsively. Apologies to all of the fics I was actively working on (glances at my 2Min drabble with apologetic eyes).

Synopsis: Seeing pictures and videos of your boyfriend with a baby inspires a stronger reaction from you than either of you could have anticipated.

Heads up: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem! Reader, established relationship, the plot is barely there if I'm being honest, dirty talk, usage of pet names, nipple play (f. receiving), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex for the first time, both Reader and Hyunjin cry at points, one mention of Reader worrying she'll draw blood from Hyunjin but no actual blood and it isn't referenced beyond that, very apparent breeding kink and talks about breeding, Hyunjin says mommy once in reference to making Reader a mum, creampie and dacryphilia kink if you squint.

Word count: 3765

I will block you if you are a minor and have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You don't expect much when your phone buzzes with a notification from Felix. He always sends you messages throughout the day, even when he has a pretty packed schedule. Asking you how your day is, telling you about his and sending you short videos and funny pictures of the rest of the members that he manages to catch.

So when you open his message, you expect maybe a selfie with him and Chris or a video of Minho feigning annoyance at being recorded.

What you don't expect is to see Hyunjin. Well, that's not entirely true. Felix sends you pictures and videos of Hyunjin all of the time. What you don't expect is to see your boyfriend awkwardly and carefully holding an incredibly adorable, chubby baby.

He did mention a while ago now that he, Felix, and Jeongin were going to be on some variety show with children, but it had honestly slipped your mind. University has been eating you alive for the past month or so, so any space in your brain for anything that isn't response papers and projects has been minimal.

Now, as you as you sit at your desk with the Word document left untouched, all you can do is stare at the video of Hyunjin trying his best to soothe the baby. His hold on him is very clumsy and it makes you a little anxious but, it's all dwarfed by how softly your boyfriend looks at him and how his massive hands cradle the baby's tiny body to his. The smile on his face is positively radiant, and the little cooing sounds he makes do eventually draw a smile and giggle from the baby comfortably in his arms.

You don't think you've felt your heart constrict more in your chest ever in your entire life. Not even when he told you he loved you for the first time or when the two of you went on your first date or the first time you had sex. Sitting here, seeing him fumble his way through interacting with this baby and the unadulterated softness in his face, completely derails any other train of thought than wanting to have a baby of your own with him.

Which is absolute insanity.

Not only are the two of you nowhere near ready to be parents, your relationship is also not even a year old yet. You've spoken about children, and while you are on the same page, now is nowhere near the time.

Still, the more carnal part of your brain can't find it to care as you continue to scroll through the barage of pictures and videos Felix sent to you. An audible 'aw' leaving your lips when the baby's tiny hand wraps around your boyfriend's finger.

Yeah, there's no way you're getting any work done today.

You practically lunge at Hyunjin when he opens your front door. You swallow his noise of surprise greedily, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing him to the door he just barely manages to close. Despite being caught thoroughly off-guard, he kisses you back. His hands coming to rest on your hips.

"Not that I'm complaining," he breathes out once he separates himself from your lips, "but, what brought this on?"

"Lix sent me pictures and videos of you with a baby," you mutter against his neck as you kiss along the sensitive skin there. Your blood turning into molten heat in your veins as he squirms and whimpers against you. You're sure you're wet enough already to take him. You've been wet for what feels like hours now.

"Okay?" He says, blinking at you in confusion through the lust induced haze he was momentarily in.

"You looked really cute and happy."

He still doesn't seem to quite understand what about that would cause you to react like this.

"Seeing you with a baby was really attractive," you finally spell out for him.

"Attractive?!" He squeaks out, and you'd usually find that endearing and cause to smush his cheeks between your hands, but you're too highstrung right now.

"Yes," you breathe, resuming your kisses along on his neck, on part of his jaw until you reach his ear, "it was really, really attractive. I couldn't even focus on my work because all I could think about was you cumming inside of me and, putting a baby in me."

You're sure Hyunjin would have crumpled to your floor if he wasn't leaning against your door. He was blushing so hard you could feel the heat radiating off of him. You don't think you've ever seen him get this red, especially so quickly, ever.

"Wh-what?" Is all he can respond with and, in all fairness, you did drop a nuclear bit of information on the poor man, so this reaction isn't exactly unexpected.

You take one of his hands and slip it into the waistband of your shorts and panties, moaning quietly when his fingers come into contact with your soaked slit. Hyunjin isn't unaffected either if the glaze in his eyes and bob of his adam's apple are anything to go by.

"I've been so wet for you all day, Jinnie," you whine, your eyes fluttering slightly and your walls clenching when his fingers run along your folds all on their own.

"Fuck," he grits, catching you by surprise this time around and slamming his mouth into yours. This kiss is more carnal than the last one. It's all teeth and tongue and spit and, all you can do is fist his shirt to steady yourself while his nimble fingers stroke you. You're barely aware that he's pushing you backwards until you find yourself hitting your couch. His mouth remains firmly on yours as you two tumble onto it.

A disappointed whine leaves you when his hand leaves your panties and shorts. Your walls throb borderline painfully, and you feel acutely empty. "I'm sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you," he has the audacity to laugh, albeit hoarsely.

"Jinnie, I'm ready. Please, I want you inside of me. I'm beyond ready," you whimper, clutching onto his biceps. Giving him your best puppy dog eyes and pout while he clenches his jaw at your words.

"You're trying to kill me," he groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. From the pressure you feel on your thigh right now, you're sure your suggestion sounds tempting right now.

He kisses you more slowly this time. Savouring every brush and press of your lips against his own and, the two of you moan into each other as your tongues caress one another. You thought you'd won until you feel his hands impatiently tug your shirt up, exposing your breasts to the cool air of your apartment. His mouth descending down your neck, lavishing your throat with kisses and licks while you arch into him. Your hands tugging on his dark locks while he kisses down your body.

"Hyun-Hyunjin," you whimper, your hips jolting up into him when his breaths ghost over one of your hardened nipples.

"Are you sure you still want me to just fuck you?" Is all he says before you find your nipple enveloped by his mouth and your other breast in one of his hands.

You're sure you've soaked through your panties and are close to ruining your shorts from the way your wetness trickles out of you with every lick and suck of your boyfriend's sinful mouth. The vibrations from the groans he presses into you only make it all so much worse, along with the precise way his fingers tug and lightly pinch your other nipple.

Hyunjin would happily spend hours with his mouth and hands all over your breasts if history is any indication. However, as eyeroll and toe-curl inducing as this all feels, you're determined to get your way.

Your hands cup his face and pull him up to you. The frown on his thoroughly kissed lips almost makes you laugh, but you kiss him before the giggles get the better of you, and he complains about you ruining his time with your tits.

"Want you," you mutter against his lips, palming his erection through his jeans. The evidence of his want for you clear as day and heavy in your palm. You're tempted to just flip him over and sink down on him yourself.

"An-And I'm the one always being called impatient," he retorts with an affectionate roll of his eyes and kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"It's not my fault you looked so attractive," you respond with a shrug, biting back the complaint on the tip of the tongue when he peels away from you to tug off his shirt. God, you really must be the luckiest woman alive.

"I didn't think you'd be so into it," he says distractedly, impatiently tugging down his jeans and leaving him in nothing but his black boxers that cling in a horribly tempting way to his slender hips and, outline his hard cock.

You're not sure whether your mouth or pussy waters more.

Hyunjin flushes under your intense gaze, as if you haven't seen him naked more times than both of you could count. It still boggles your mind sometimes how your boyfriend can turn from confident, sexy and suave to an awkward, flustered mess in an instant. Well, that duality is among the multitude of reasons you're so irrevocably in love with him.

"You're staring," he mumbles, avoiding your gaze.

"It's not my fault you're so hot," you retort, delighting in the deepening blush on his cheeks. He's just too easy for his own good.

He just huffs in parts exasperation and embarrassment, choosing instead to focus on getting you naked. The playful atmosphere quickly dissipates as he hooks his thumbs into your shorts and panties, and you lift your hips to help him tug them off.

Once he's tossed them somewhere to join the heap of clothes littering your floor, Hyunjin settles himself between your thighs once more but, on his stomach this time. You really, really wish he'd just fuck you and before you're able to verbalise that thought, your boyfriend takes a slow, deliberate lick at you.

A strangled gasp flies from your lips and your hips jolt but, his large hands hold you firm. "Just let me do this for you, okay?" He asks, his stupid, pretty brown eyes boring into yours through his dark hair. His mouth hovers above you, as if waiting for some sort of response from you.

"Fuck, fine Jinnie, okay. Please, just do some-" your words are cut off by a choked sob when Hyunjin takes your words as a green light. His lips attached themselves to your poor clit, licking and sucking in ways that tighten the knots in your gut and causes your toes to curl. Your fingers weaving themselves into his hair and tugging, which prompts a whimper from your boyfriend. The vibrations making your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

A pitchy moans of his name fill the air of your apartment when his slender fingers toy with your entrance. Barely breaching your hole and you want to scream.

"Hyunjin," you whimper out, impatiently tugging on his hair.

"I'm sorry," he mutters against you with a smile and, pushes two of his fingers into you gradually.

They don't fill you nearly as much as you need but, they're better than nothing. That thought is particularly bolstered when he curls them inside of you, only needing a few moments before he finds the spot inside of you that makes your thighs quiver and your mind to go blank. Combined with his unrelenting ministrations on your poor, sensitive clit and how needy you've been for him all day, it all becomes too much so quickly.

"Hyun-Hyunjin, Jinnie. I- I'm-" You're not even sure what you're trying to articulate but, the jumbled mess of words seem to only motivate your boyfriend further. He curls his fingers harder and laps at your clit with renewed enthusiasm.

That's all it takes for everything to fracture.

You're sure the grip you have on Hyunjin's hair hurts but, you can't help it. Everything seizes and your walls spasm viciously, clamping down so harshly on Hyunjin's fingers he can barely keep curling them inside of you. Still, he tries. He's not as intense as he was moments ago but, still fingers you through your orgasm while his tongue gently laps up everything you give him.

You sag against your couch once your body relaxes. You're half certain you'd float up into the air if Hyunjin's grip on you wasn't still so strong. Speaking of your boyfriend, he does eventually unlatches himself from your hypersensitive clit. His hair is completely dishevelled, and you could already see a thin sheen of sweat on his flushed skin. His tongue pokes out to chase every bit of you he can on his bruised lips, his eyes dark.

You're sure he feels the way you clench around his fingers despite quite literally just cumming. He leans down to hungrily kiss you, tasting yourself on his tongue that he pushes into your eager mouth. As if your mind isn't muddled enough. You moan into him when he very slowly pulls his fingers out of you. Now you feel so empty that it physically hurts.

"Jinnie," you plead, your fingers reaching down to toy with the waistband of his boxers. The muscles of his abdomen jumping with every brush of your fingers against them. One of his hands comes down to cup your jaw, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips.

"Fine, fine," he says after pulling away from you and tugging his boxers down. His cock, flushed an appealing red, bobbing in the air between the two of you as he drops his boxers on your floor. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, and even more of your wetness leaks out of you, smearing your inner thighs.

Hyunjin gets up, and that kicks you out of the stupor you were in. Your hand shoots to grab his wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"Where are you you going?"

"To uh...get condoms?" He asks, confusion evident in both his voice and handsome face.

"Why?"

"Wh-Why?"

"Yeah, why? I'm okay with not using them if you are. I wasn't kidding when I said I really want you to cum inside of me."

Hyunjin closes his eyes then. Gritting his teeth before responding, "What about...y'know? Not that I don't want to have children with you eventually but-"

"Jinnie, I'm on the pill. I have been since I was a teenager."

That stops Hyunjin. His big, brown eyes blinking at you as if he can't quite believe that this is real. That this is happening.

You soften then, slipping your hand downwards to intertwine your fingers with his longer one, "Hey, we don't have to if you don't want to. We can use condoms if that's what you're comfortable with."

That seems to only make your boyfriend flail harder, "No, no. It's not that I don't want to. Honestly, I've thought about it a lot," that makes you raise an eyebrow, "I've just never- I've just never done it without a condom before."

"Neither have I," you respond easily.

"Really?"

The look you give him is enough for Hyunjin to recognise what a dumb question that was, "Right, okay, sorry."

That seems to ease his anxieties significantly, he doesn't look nearly as tense as he did when you suggested the idea. You tug him down into another deep kiss, wrapping your arms around him as he resumes his place between your thighs. Gasps leaving both of you when his cock nudges at your very wet folds, the barely there pressure and searing heat causing your nails to dig into his shoulders.

"You're 100% sure about this right?" He asks once more, his eyes swirling with nervousness and desire.

While you appreciate how sweet he's being, you're seconds from pulling out your hair if he doesn't just fuck you right now. However, an idea comes to your mind to finally entice your boyfriend into fully letting go.

One of your hands reaches down until you reach the apex of your thighs, spreading your pussy for him to see just how sure you are.

"Yes, Jinnie. Fuck me, please."

Something in Hyunjin snaps then. His mouth swallowing your whimpers as he finally sinks into you. You can feel him practically vibrating with the effort to keep himself composed.

He's so hot inside of you. You're not sure sex has ever felt so intense. You've had him inside of you hundreds of times but, this...this is completely different. You swear you can feel everything. Every twitch and every throb and every vein as your walls melt around him. Before you know it, you're blinking away tears from how overwhelming it all is and pull him closer to you, wrapping your legs around him.

"Fuck, wait. Shit, don't do that. Don't move," he chokes out into the hollow of your throat, his own hold on your hips growing harsh and his cock twitching repeatedly inside of you.

"Jinnie, move," you whine into his ear, you can barely recognise yourself. You sound so foreign to your own ears but, from the way Hyunjin's hips slightly jolt and he mutters a string of curses against your skin, he might be into this new state of fucked out you've managed to achieve.

You thought it couldn't be even intense, but then Hyunjin moves, and you're pretty sure your visions goes black at the edges for a few seconds. There's no way to tell who moans louder but, you both press your noises into each other's skin all the same. Your nails drag down his back so hard that you're briefly worried that you might have drawn blood.

"Baby," Hyunjin whimpers out, thrusting into you slowly and shallowly, barely satisfying either of you, "Baby, I need you to relax. I-I won't last if you don't."

His words only instinctively make you tighten around him, made all the worse since he's so deeply nestled of you. Your walls massaging him and generously coating him in your slick.

"I want it, Jinnie. I don't care, please," you don't know what's possessed you but, the realisation that he very really could fill you with his cum hits you like a train. You pull him even closer to you, "Fuck me all you want. Cum inside of me all you want. Breed me all you want, Jinnie."

Something broken and feral slips from his lips, his teeth ghost over your throat as he fucks into you without abandon. The sounds of your skin colliding and your respective sounds of pleasure echoing all throughout your living room, and probably throughout your entire apartment.

"Yeah? Want me to fuck my baby into you?" He grits out possesively, "Want me to make you swollen with my ba-baby and make you a mommy?"

"Please, yes, Jinnie," you moan, holding onto him for dear life as he seems determined to make his words a reality. Both of you completely lost in each other and delirious.

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck," he moans against your shoulder in-between kisses that are more spit and tongue than anything else. "Fuck. Gonna cum. Gonna fill you up with my cum until it's leaking out of you for days. Gonna breed you so good," he slurs, his heavy pants joining the symphony of sounds currently playing through your living room. You're certain you'll have bruises on your hips in the morning but, you couldn't care less. You want it. You want it more than anything.

It's always easy to tell when Hyunjin is about to cum. Your boyfriend isn't exactly great at hiding his emotions, and from the increase in the frequency of curses and moans and the way he holds onto you, you know he's teetering on the edge. You are, too, if you're being honest, but you're more invested in him falling apart. A choked sob of your name is the only warning you receive before you feel his cock twitch inside of you incessantly and warmth flooding your awaiting pussy.

You're surprised to feel some wetness on your shoulder and, concern trumps any other emotion when you register that. Your hands reach to cup his face, a few stray tears streaking his flushed cheeks.

"Hey, Jinnie baby, is everything okay?"

It takes him a few moments to find the words to respond to you, and you rub your thumb soothing on his cheek while you wait for him patiently.

"I-I-I don't think I've e-ever cum so hard. It-It was really i-intense," he hiccups out, nuzzling into your grasp.

Oh.

While that puts the tears on his face into a very different light and, perhaps you've discovered another new thing about yourself today.

"I'm sorry. I got a little...out of control at the end there," he mutters, his face speeding from pink to red as he avoids your gaze studiously.

"Jinnie, you have nothing to apologise for," you tug him towards you and plant featherlight kisses on his cheek, "It was really fucking hot, if I'm being honest."

That only makes your boyfriend blush harder and seek refuge in your shoulder after groaning in embarrassment. The movement quickly reminds you that he's still very much inside of you right now and that his cum is slowly starting to trickle out of you but, you feel too boneless to even entertain the idea of getting up right now.

"I'm still surprised seeing me with a baby resulted in all of this," he says after his embarrassment subsides, his fingers tracing nonsensical patterns on your thigh.

"Wouldn't see me with a baby make you feel the same way?"

He seems to ponder on that for a little bit before replying, "Fair point. You know, when we do eventually have one of our own, I hope they have your eyes."

This stupid man and the way he makes your heart race.

"Well, I hope they have your eyes and your pouty lips and your dimples," you retort, feeling very, very shy all of a sudden as though this isn't happening because of you.

"We'll just have to have more than one then. You know, just to make sure they get all of the traits we want them to get," he has the nerve to grin at you.

"Hyunjin!" You cry, scandalised, warmth flooding your face. However, you can't deny that a bunch of children with his smile and kind eyes doesn't sound like the such a bad idea.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[skyburger]

oh okay so turns out i was crazy my whole life and thought hotels (and, like, my grandparents. but the ones that live in america) just had weird fucking "old-fashioned" (TO ME.) bedding but no its apparently THE ENTIRETY OF AMERICA (well, the US and canada, from what i can see. i cant find any results on what its like in mexico i dont think im googling the right things)??? what the fuck is a top sheet. YOU GUYS ACTUALLY HAVE LIKE? MULTIPLE LAYERS OF BLANKETS AND SHEETS AND STUFF?? THAT YOU HAVE TO SLEEP UNDER EVERY NIGHT?? no wonder some people make such a big deal over making their bed this whole time i thought you guys were just like really lazy like i am and didnt wanna lay out your duvet on top of your bed but NO you guys are supposed to TUCK IN AND LAYER ALL THESE SHEETS???? EVERY MORNING???? HELLO???? how the fuck do you even wash this shit how do you remember what layers go where. i stayed in a hotel last weekend and there were like three layers i slept under and none of them were warm and all of them were tucked into the bed and it was SO annoying. How do you guys live like this. idgaf if you hate europeans i gotta say we were RIGHT for this one. top sheets are so uncommon in europe that apparently there isnt even a word for top sheets in german thats how u KNOW its bad. but the standard in europe is like... mattress. fitted sheet Over the mattress. pillow (in pillow case). duvet (in duvet case? sheet? idk what its called. same concept as a pillowcase). Thats it. AND I THOUGHT THATS WHAT EVERYONE WAS DOING ALL THESE YEARS BUT NO U GUYS ARE ALL CRAZY !!!!!!! do you guys have like six fucking pillows like they do in hotels too??? WHAT ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO DO WITH ALL THIS BEDDING !!!!! also whats with the like. banner strip of fabric blanket(?) type thing thats on the end of the bed. is that just a hotel thing or do people at home do that too. what does that even do it serves no purpose. idk. moral of the story is americans are literally crazyHang on post un-finished i was trying to google something I FORGOT SOME PLACES IN EUROPE JUST USE TWO SINGLE DUVETS INSTEAD OF ONE DOUBLES ONE WHEN U SHARE A BED WITH SOMEONE... thats literally so smart. like im SUCH a covers hog if u share a bed with me were doing it german slash scandinavian style and we are just getting our own duvets. peace and love. sorry i asked my mom off-handedly when we in at a hotel for easter like "haha why do hotels always have the weirdest fucking bedding" and she was like no thats just you. most americans sleep like this. and ive been thinking about it ever since like Huh ? Huh? HOW DID THAT HAPPEN !!!! THE MAJORITY OF THE AMERICAN POPULATION ARE IMMIGRANTS AND MOST OF THOSE IMMIGRANTS ARE IN FACT FROM EUROPE. HOW DID YOU FUMBLE THIS BADLY. WHAT HAPPENED. again i ask. What the fuck is a top sheet

[chaosandmarigolds]

Simon Riley! who isn't traditional in the gross way but in the he wants to protect you and make sure you don't feel like you have to provide for yourself, he wants to be a safety net, something to rely on

Simon Riley! Who made it a point to buy your dream house as soon as you were married,

Simon Riley! Who didn't expect houses to require so...much...work

"Baby! The water won't turn off?"

"The fuck you mean it won't turn off just-" Simon grumbled as he dropped the moving box and walked into the kitchen, grabbing the handle of the faucet and trying to pull it, only for it to come flying off. Leaving him dumbfounded and you a giggling disaster.

Simon Riley! Who likes handy man tasks as much as the next guy but the people at the store are beginning to know his name

Simon Riley! Who didn't have a dad to teach him some stuff like plumbing and whatnot so he calls Price

"Oi, Cap-"

"She came to her senses and ran away, yeah?"

"No...I need you to tell me ho' to turn off th' water."

Simon Riley! Who does know how much you love watching him do yard work but doesn't dwell because these godddamn weeds-

Simon Riley! Who loves nothing more than watching you paint the walls of the house, finds it like to be a scene of a movie and it would be a lie if the reality was much better than the cinema

Simon Riley! Who hates facebook because you would randomly send him across the city because you found an old China cabinet you thought would be perfect

Simon Riley! Who doesn't care how his buddies tease him about becoming a domestic civilian so soon, because he would happily fix a thousand houses if it meant a thousand more years with you

(Comments and feedback make my day! annnd yeah that's it <3 )

[misswynters]

Strapped up

Sevika x afab!reader / wc: ?

WARNINGS: 18+, smut again, riding, sevika with hexcore strap (i delivered), dom! sevika & switch!reader, BITING, rough rex, mating press, teasing, misspellings?

similar writings | Brothel

also on ao3 (not yet, under doorkiluv)

a/n: sipping on my ginger tea while i wait for yalls reactions, also pls give me feedback (and don’t only just like but also reblog and comment 🫶🏼)

You thought life couldn’t get any better. Standing in the same room with sevika, with whom you shared a special relationship with. You didn’t exactly know what kind of bond you guys had, but it was one filled with pleasure and love. Which brings you back to the current moment on had, sevika leaning against her bed frame. She looked amazing as always with her powerful build as a warm glow soften the edges of her place, which stood at the heart of Zaun. Her eyes followed you, a faint smirk on her lips as she watched you approach, her usual guarded expression giving way to something more inviting, almost hungry.

"Come here," she commanded softly, her voice smooth and warm, a note of challenge woven into her words. As you climbed onto her lap, Sevika's hands settled on your waist, her fingers strong and grounding as she held you close. The slight hum of her hextech prosthetic reminded you of the power she wielded over you. You couldn't help but shiver under her touch as her gaze slowly roamed over you.

As you settled, she adjusted the strap on her hexcore, its soft glow flickering against her skin as she tilted her head, a lazy grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. She looked up at you, her eyes flickering with amusement and something deeper, a silent confidence that made you feel like she knew every reaction she could pull from you before you did. You braced yourself, anticipation thrumming through your veins as her hands tightened on your hips. The strap was long, thick and had glowy blueish veins. Just by looking at it barely inches away made you feel wild, wondering how it the world it would fit.

Sevika guided you down onto her with a firm grip, setting the pace. She filled you slowly, letting you feel every inch of her as she watched your face. The sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn't hold back a moan as you sank down. You could feel the subtle hum of her strap resonate within you. Sevika's smirk widened at your reaction, a faint chuckle escaping her as she took in every flicker of response. "Good," she murmured, her voice low and approving, fingers pressing into your hips to draw you down harder, setting a steady, demanding rhythm. "That's what I like to see... you taking all of it."

Her words made your face flush, and her hands held you tight, grounding you against her hips as she gazed down towards you. The wet, squelching sounds that your folds made filled the room, mingling with your soft moans as she urged you to keep going. Every time you tried to pull back, Sevika's grip would tighten, her gaze holding you in place. “Not so fast," she whispered, a hint of a smirk pulling at her lips. "I'm not done with you yet, we are just starting."

The intensity of her hold and the firmness of her voice left you breathless, and each time you moved, she met your rhythm with an unwavering strength, amplifying the sensations that were already overwhelming. The roughness of her hands against your hips alongside the hum of the hextech strap as she bounced you on her cock, left you trembling as you tried to keep up with her.

"Look at you," Sevika murmured, her voice a mixture of admiration and amusement as she took in your flushed cheeks and parted lips. Her eyes traced over you slowly, savoring every detail as she adjusted her grip. She placed her hands around your waist as she laced her fingers together, guiding you to a deeper angle that made you gasp. "You're something else, aren't you? Never thought you'd be able to handle all of me."

With a firm grip on your waist, Sevika shifted beneath you, her strength effortlessly flipping you over so that you were now pinned beneath her. You felt a thrill at the way she moved confidently. She loomed over you, her eyes gleaming with that familiar intensity, a mixture of dominance and affection in her gaze as she took in your flushed expression.

"You trust me, don't you?" she murmured, her voice a low, tantalizing whisper as her hands found your thighs, pushing them up toward your chest. Her grip was steady, but there was an undeniable gentleness in the way she held you, ensuring you were comfortable even as she positioned you to her liking. You barely managed a nod, but that was enough for her. With a satisfied smirk, Sevika leaned forward, planting a brief, possessive kiss on your lips before she pulled back, her gaze flicking down to where your bodies met. Her strap glowed against your wet folds as she slid it between them, you were so wet that it was completely coated with your arousal.

She shifted her hips, the intensity start to build as she pushed in deeply, her pace starting slow and measured, as if she was trying to savor each thrust. But soon enough, she picked up speed, finding a pace that left you gasping, your hands clutching onto her thick biceps as she began to push into you with a force that sent shivers through you. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound punctuating each movement. However you hardly noticed, too lost in the sensation as she pushed you closer to the edge with each rapid thrust.

As Sevika held your legs pressed up to your chest, driving into you with that unrelenting rhythm, you felt yourself unraveling under her touch. The wet, slick noises filled the room, each thrust punctuated by the steady creaking of the bed. The overwhelming sensations left you clinging to her shoulders, your voice breaking into desperate, pleading gasps. "Sevika, please," you whispered, nearly breathless, your hands gripping her broad shoulders, digging in with every surge of pleasure. "Don't stop... please, just like that... harder."

A wicked smirk crossed her face as she caught the raw desperation in your voice. "So needy," she murmured, her tone thick with satisfaction. "Look at you, begging for more. You want me to ruin you, don't you?" Sevika's hands tightened on your thighs, spreading your thighs further open as she drove into you with powerful thrusts. Her gaze never leaving your face as she took in every reaction, every shiver and gasp.

You nodded, too caught up to feel anything but the sheer need flooding through you. "Yes... please," you gasped, almost incoherent as she picked up the pace, pushing deeper and harder. Your thighs shook under her iron grip, pinned against your chest, each thrust sending a surge of sensation that left you on the edge of surrender.

Driven by the intensity, you instinctively leaned forward and bit down on her shoulder, desperate to ground yourself through the torrent of pleasure. Sevika froze for a heartbeat, her breath catching, and then she let out a deep, approving growl, her gaze dark and delighted as she felt the imprint of your teeth. "Oh, you like it rough, huh?" she murmured, her voice a husky whisper as she gazed down at you. "Good. Hold on tight, then."

Instead of slowing, she surged forward, her pace turning rapid, unyielding, her thrusts deep and forceful, spurred on by the way you clung to her. "Bite me all you want," she encouraged, her voice sultry, almost daring. "I want to hear how much you need this."

"Sevika, please-don't stop," you begged, your voice breaking into soft cries as the bed protested under her relentless rhythm, creaking with each thrust that left you gasping. "I... I need more, please... harder."

She chuckled, her fingers gripping your thighs even tighter, pressing them to your chest as she drove into you with renewed fervor, clearly enjoying every sound that escaped your lips. "Oh, you're not getting off easy," she taunted, her voice rough with pleasure. "I'm not stopping until you're completely spent... until you're begging for mercy."

Each thrust sent shockwaves through your body, drawing helpless cries from your lips that only seemed to spur her on. Her gaze flicked down between you, and a wicked grin crept onto her face as she noticed the slick, glistening mess where you were connected, a white ring forming with each deep push. "Look at this," she murmured, her voice thick with pride. "Look at the mess you're making for me."

Her words sent a shiver through you, heightening the need coursing through your veins, and you clung to her even tighter, breathless, pleading. "Please, Sevika... I can't... I can't take much more."

"There you go," she whispered, her voice a mixture of praise and satisfaction as she watched you unravel beneath her. "Taking my cock so well... just like I knew you would." Her words sent a thrill through you, and you felt yourself clench around her, your breath hitching as she continued to move with unyielding precision. Her pace only grew, each thrust bringing a fresh wave of pleasure that left you breathless, your body arching up into her as you felt the pressure building to an overwhelming peak. She noticed, of course-she noticed everything-and her smirk widened as she leaned down, her mouth brushing against your ear as she murmured, "Relax."

The way she spoke, commanding yet tender, was enough to send you over the edge. You felt yourself shudder beneath her, your release leaving a mess between you both, soaking the sheets and intensifying the slick sounds with each movement. Sevika slowed only slightly, savoring the way you trembled beneath her, her gaze filled with a rare softness as she held you close, letting the softness of the moment sink in.

As the aftermath of the moment settled over you both, Sevika shifted back just enough to look down, a smirk slowly curling at the corners of her mouth. She took in the scene beneath her the sheets soaked and rumpled, your flushed face, and the way your body still trembled slightly from the intensity of it all.

"What a mess," she murmured, a teasing glint in her eyes as she caressed her thumb along your thigh, feeling the warmth that lingered there. "Didn't know you had it in you." Her tone was low, playful, and laced with that familiar, effortless confidence. "You really couldn't hold back, could you?"

"Maybe... maybe I wouldn't have made such a mess if you hadn't been so relentless," you shot back, meeting her gaze with a playful glint of your own, though the flush on your cheeks betrayed just how affected you still were. "Besides... I think you enjoyed it just as much."

Sevika let out a low, approving chuckle, her fingers still lazily tracing over your thigh. "Oh, I enjoyed every second," she replied, leaning down until her lips brushed against the shell of your ear.

"And don't think I didn't notice how you were clinging to me, begging for more." You bit your lip, her words making your heart race again. "You're the one who kept pushing me. I... I could barely keep up," you admitted, voice soft yet tinged with playful defiance. "You make it impossible to resist."

Sevika's smirk deepened, her thumb stroking along your jawline as she took in every detail of your expression. “Good," she teased. "I want you like this-completely undone, messy, all because of me."

You shivered under her gaze, but you found yourself smiling, a bit of daring creeping into your voice. "Then maybe... next time, you should try to keep up with me."

Her brows lifted, clearly intrigued by the challenge, and her smirk softened into something warmer, more intimate. "Oh, I'm looking forward to it."

to be continued…

taglist: @i02elss @diffusebread @tsukiroe @iamastar @angel4youu @fict1onallyobsessed @blckbny @littlyamadeus @sum0y @girln1ghtm4re @kissyslut @jayden-prentiss @poppyluvsworld @averysmallfox @cacston @indigospinels @bakugous-titties @yer-boiiii @sevikitty @marinayadayada @urnewghostfriend @sincerely-forest @thefulcrumfiles @srtctra @themostlesbianever @ittiwdwysylm @xxblairslairxx @invadergir45 @wokensiren @thesevi0lentdelights @fizzyypopp @k2-p @idk2anym @lucidtobio @mvistl @vampthrobbb @theresascove @trulycarini @her-gayness @savethegoddamturtles @isabelly7801 @atinytrashcan @abbyssgf @maneskinwh0re @lovebbpotato @morphids @missevillyn @sevyscoven @elsbunny

banner: @cafekitsune

[simpjaes]

CUNNILINGUIST ― s.jy (ft. p.sh)

Unfortunately for you, no man has ever given you some good head. Fortunately for you, your best friend is more annoyed by it than you are. It’s just a favor, right? or the one where your best friend jake eats you out as a way to admit his own feelings for you, also, apparently sunghoon existing is an issue.

minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog to give bestie jake conflicting feelings

WORDCOUNT― 16.1 k

PAIRING― jake x afab reader (ft. sunghoon)

CONTENT― a lot of waiting, like to the point it even annoyed me, very fluffy stuff , typical best friends to fuck buddies to “actually, I had feelings this whole time”, jealousy, jake is whiny and needy when he’s horny, reader thinks it’s cute. angst if you’re a baby about it

OTHER CHARACTERS― sunghoon as the mutual friend who bangs reader

NOTE― this was originally written by me on my other blog [@/ncteez], if you’ve read it before, that’s why!

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― BIG DICKED BESTIE, pussy eating (he gets IN THERE), masturbation in the form of dry humping a mattress and then into his hand, finger fucking, cum eating, sunghoon hook up, morning sex, lazy fingering, lazy fuck, dirty talk , unprotected sex, awkward build up,raw grinding, no blowjob in sight sorry lmao, deep penetration, cream pie, kind of cum stuffing but like not entirely intentional, cheesy love stuff 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“What? Again?” Jake says, leaning back against the couch with a groan and a smack to his own forehead.

“Yeah, so basically he went down on me for less than a minute but expected me to, like, go long enough to ‘swallow’ or whatever.” You continue the story in a frustrated huff, shaking your head in self-pity.

Jake groans louder, leaning himself forward again and swiping his drink from your coffee table to take a long and thoughtful sip. 

“How many times is that, then?” He says between sips, glancing around the room as if he’s in deep thought. “I can’t help but think you pick these kinds of guys on purpose at this point.”

You look at him in mock pain, grabbing his drink and taking your own thoughtful sip of it.

“I dunno, they always talk big game during phone sex and stuff. I figure eventually one of them will live up to it.” You drone on, internally marking your recent date’s name off of your call-back list. 

“Be honest with me, have you ever actually gotten good head? Like how would you know if they’re bad if you have nothing good to compare them to?” Jake asks, letting you mindlessly drink his beverage.

It’s not weird to be having these types of conversations with him, if at all, something would seem off if you didn’t. He’s the only person in your life that you’ve ever felt this close to. At this point, you think he’d have to chase you down with a bloody hatchet for things to be awkward. Which is…kind of interesting, you guess.

“Well, I mean,” You think for a moment too long for his liking, but he gives you the space to finish your answer. “It feels good and all but it’s not like I’ve ever gotten off by it.”

“Correction –” Jake starts, blinking right at you. “You’ve never been given the chance to get off on it.” His bright  smile shows through his words, and you’re sure he’s mocking you at this point.

“Yeah, yeah. Yada, yada. I have terrible taste in sexual partners but to be fair, it’s not like the pool is that big to choose from.”

He nods in agreement, humming as if to end the conversation and still watching you sip at his drink.

“Would you be opposed to–” He pauses, making eye contact with you. “Y’know, I could do it for you.”

You pause, nearly dropping his drink out of your hand but thankfully your grip actually tightens on it instead. You swallow as you look at him, searching his face to see if this is some kind of joke.

“Jae-fucking-yun,” You deadpan, sitting his cup back down on your coffee table and leaning toward him, staring him down. “You’d really do that, for me?”

You bat your eyelashes at him, mostly playing it off as a half-joke just to see if he’s fucking with you or not. 

“How else are you gonna experience it?” 

You stare him down harder.

“You say that like you’re some sort of pussy-eating-god,” You narrow your eyes. “Are you?”

He shrugs casually with his little smile, leaning back on your couch and stretching his arms out. One of his hands lands behind your shoulder and you lean into it. 

“I’d let you be the judge of that if you’re up for it.”

Finally, you decide that he’s definitely not joking and you’re definitely gonna do it because like, that’s your best friend. Experiencing your firsts with him comes almost as naturally as walking. You had your first kiss with him, albeit it was a dare. You experienced your first concert with him, your first break up, your first failed exam, and even your first legal drink in a club. What’s so bad about letting him eat you out?

“Right now?” You ask, quirking your brow and tilting your head.

“Now, tomorrow, next week. Whenever.” He runs his hands through his hair as he says it and only now are you starting to really tune into his features that you’ve already found handsome.

Day after day you’ve seen him on this couch and in other states of dress without really thinking twice about how his lips would feel on you (despite that short first kiss). You’ve seen him kissing all up on other people, you’ve seen him in the club with wet lips from alcohol, you’ve seen him all messy and eating spaghetti at his parent’s house– but for some reason, his lips seem different now. His sleepy eyes seem different, his messy hair seems like something that should be tugged on, his fucking jawline– 

“Why’re you staring at me like that?” He looks at you up and down as if he’s judging. “You wanna go right now?”

You nod slowly, letting the traces of any lusty thoughts you’ve had about him in your life come to the front in waves. Then you quickly shake your head.

“Wait, no,” You roll your eyes more at yourself than him. “I haven’t showered since my date, maybe I should, uh…”

“Uh – yeah. Please do.” He grimaces, that same dopey smile coming back after a moment. 

“Fair.” You roll your eyes. “Gonna go shower then.” 

Part of you wonders if like, he’s being totally legit. For all you know, you’ll get out of the shower and he’ll be too busy doing something else, or like, he’ll go home or something. No hurt in seeing though.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

In the bathroom, you can’t help the feeling in your chest at even the thought that this may be about to happen.

Excitement. That’s what you feel. Not because it’s Jake. Well, maybe a little bit because you wanna see what his tongue is all about but more so because you’re about to get some presumably good head.

You shower thoughtfully, cleaning every part of your body and feeling little goosebumps rise and fall with each sensation of your air conditioning snaking its way past your shower doors. When you get out, you lotion your body so you’re all nice and soft and brush your teeth just in case things go a little further. You’re not expecting it to, but y’know, nothing wrong with having fun if it comes to it. 

After all, he’s doing you a favor by going down on you, the least you can do is smell good, be soft, and totally prepared for if he were to suggest more, right? Right. Anyway, you’re all showered up and opt to just let your hair do its own thing as you throw on your shirt and shorts. You ignore the panties at this point, because why not?

When you get back to the living room, Jake isn’t there. Naturally, you check your bedroom and there he is, still his normal self and lounging against your headboard while flipping through videos on his phone. 

“And she’s back,” he comments, reaching a hand out as if to invite you to your own bed. “Change your mind yet?”

“Not even for a second,” you smile as you take a spot in front of him, your entire body facing him as you pull your knees up and lay your chin against your arms. “Have you?”

He seems to fall into a more serious tone now, locking his phone before tossing it to the side and flicking his eyes up to look at you, scanning your legs in the shorts. 

“No,” he chokes back, shocked to see straight between the gap of your shorts and actually lay eyes on the point of this whole situation for the first time. “And you’re not wearing anything under those shorts.”

You watch his face and the way it turns from your best friend into something you’ve seen time and time again from men you’ve gone home with. It’s sexy on him though, for some reason.

“Figured I’d save you the trouble?”

He smiles, now moving himself toward you and reaching a hand behind to cradle your head. 

“Lay back,” he says softly, in a voice you’ve only heard a few times from him, “you could have left the shorts off too though.” He adds with an even softer laugh.

For some reason, it makes you feel shy. His hand guiding you to lay back all while grabbing the pillow from behind him and placing it under your head so that you’re nice and comfortable.  You watch him look at you and honestly, it’s in a way you can’t remember him ever looking at you before. If this is how he looks at other women, you may be a little jealous. 

It feels more intense right now than you thought it would.

“You’re being weird.” You say offhandedly, looking away from him and trying to keep the heat from flushing to your cheeks. 

“You’re letting me eat you out, how am I being weird?” He leans up from you, putting two hands on your knees but still waiting for your eyes to meet his again. “You want me to act like the other dudes? Dip my tongue in then wrap it up?”

You groan, rolling your eyes back to him and analyzing the way his big hands drape over your knees. 

“Okay, fair.” You admit defeat, feeling his warm palms move down the back of your thighs and to your ass. 

“Lift up,” He says, quickly pulling the shorts off of you when you do as he asks. 

“Oh–” He gasps quietly. “Damn.”

He stares directly between your legs, bracing his hands back at your knees and spreading your legs a bit. He angles his head in different ways to really look at you, seemingly enamored with your pussy as a whole. 

“Look who’s staring now.” You chuckle, instinctively hiding your face from him despite knowing he isn’t looking up at you.

“Yeah– I am,” he admits, now adjusting himself on the bed to lay down, his head easily slotting between your legs as he rests his chin on your lower belly and looks up at you. “You can pull my hair or do whatever, I’m just gonna…like, start I guess. Tell me if it’s something you don’t like.”

As normal as this isn’t, he’s speaking similar to how the two of you had taken on projects before. He typically takes the lead but offers you control more often than not. All you can do is nod at him, trying to comprehend that it’s your best friend’s head between your legs right now.

When he pulls his head back up with one last nod of confirmation, the first thing you feel is his fingers slipping up your folds, the other braced on your thigh and holding your legs open. You release a short sigh of relief at the feeling and he instantly smirks at it. 

“I haven’t even started yet,” He whispers, glancing up at you before fixing his eyes back on the expanse of your pussy. He uses his ring and pointer finger to spread your lips open, and the middle finger to rub against your hole only for a brief moment before he licks his lips and releases his own sigh of relief. “God, Sunghoon would be so jealous right now.”

You look down at him, wanting to ask him what the fuck he’s talking about and why he’d bring up Sunghoon right now, but you find yourself staring at him instead. Breath caught in your throat with the way his eyes meet yours before letting his tongue hang from his mouth as if presenting it to you in a cheeky way.

He’s so fast with it too, with the way he replaces his middle finger with his tensed tongue, forcing you to swallow your words and hold your breath even more. You can feel him lick and nibble against each of your lips before moving inward, flattening his tongue to lick one long, languid, and wet stripe up until meeting your clit. 

He wraps his lips around it, sucking once, hard, before releasing it and pulling back to look at you.

“This okay?”

Goddamn him for making you have to talk right now. You’re still trying to comprehend the fact that he said Sunghoon, fucking Sunghoon of all people would be jealous that he’s doing this right now. That’s definitely a question for later, because yeah, it’s fucking okay. 

More than okay. 

You nod to him, throwing your arm over your eyes and instinctively bucking your hips up towards his hovering mouth. 

“Oh, that was hot,” He groans out his compliment, watching the way you hide your face before he pulls his eyes back down and uses his fingers to spread your pussy open wider, enough to see your hole pulsate when he dips down to blow against it, “I can see how wet you’re getting, Is it because of me or is it just because someone is playing with your pussy?”

You half groan half moan at that, mostly because hearing these words from him is something that feels entirely too sexual. As if he hasn’t already tasted you, as if you’re not spread out by his fingers right now. You ignore his words, yet, your brain holds onto them with white knuckles and your hips buck toward him again.

“Not a talker, got it.” He notes, watching your hips chase his breath. 

He watches for much longer than you’d like for him to, and you’re about to lift up and accuse him of being just like the other guys but he shuts your thoughts off so fucking fast when you feel his lips on you again. 

His tongue explores every part of you, licking and sucking against areas you didn’t even know would feel good until his mouth lands against your clit again. This time, you can’t help it, you grind up and he hums at it as he braces your legs open just enough to skew his head and move his tongue back down. 

He’s slurping. Lost in the moment as he does it. Tasting you in full and getting a warm, pleasant feeling each time your legs try to close and your hips buck up for more. He…can’t believe this is finally happening. Fucking finally.

Unsure if you’d let him, he tries anyway. He stiffens his tongue, circling your hole before pressing just a bit, giving you just enough pressure that you feel frustrated. So frustrated that you’re the one who ends up finishing his attempt at something new. You reach down and lace your fingers in his hair, and let out a soft, needy little moan for him. 

That sound forces one from his chest too, he can’t help it, really. With the way you’re grabbing his hair and holding his head in place, pressing yourself against his mouth so much harder than before. Ah, he really, really loves doing this for you. 

To think any man would already be done? To think anyone could like, not wanna eat you out? Insanity. Stupid, stupid fucking men.

He can taste how wet you are now, truly taste it as he stretches your hole as much as he can with his tongue and another groan of his own. It’s probably embarrassing, truly, but he doesn’t care. 

Both of you are moaning at this point as you hold his head in place and grind your hips harder than you think you are. He loves it, you love it. So much that you really are barely comprehending that your best friend could do this the whole time?! And never told you until now?!

Jake is just as drunk on the moment as you are though. Totally lost in the scent and taste of you as he continues to lap away, constantly trying to prove that you can and will get off from his mouth alone. And honestly? It’s at the point that he figures he can use his fingers now too considering you let him spread you open with his tongue. What’s a little more gonna hurt, anyway?

The taste of you alone has him in heaven, cursing any man who didn’t take advantage of your pussy against their mouth. He can easily slip a finger into a hole this wet and needy, gasping in awe before glancing up at you. 

God, the way you immediately ride his finger, no huff or sound of irritation that he’s pulled his tongue back now. Your face. Fuck. 

He watches as you shamelessly chase the small amount of pleasure he can offer in terms of just head and fingering. He can imagine how hot you’d be without that shirt on, with your legs around his hips, with your mouth wrapped around him. You look blissed out, soaking his finger and keeping your hand in his hair, mindlessly grabbing and scratching at him. 

Making quick work, he goes back for your clit, circling his tongue around the bundle of nerves and noticing how you ride his finger harder. He can’t help but smirk against you when you do it either. 

The movement of your hips constantly humping against him is enough, and he can’t help but groan at the sound of your slick squelching out of you and warming his chin, he can’t fucking help but grind his own hips forward when you act like this. His cock is so painfully hard for you right now, at the taste of you, that all he can do is chase the mattress beneath him. Tensing his muscles and moaning against your clit shamelessly at the jolts of pleasure he gets from it. 

He slips another finger in with ease, feeling how much wetter you’ve gotten in the way the slide is filthy and audible. You groan out at that too, feeling his tongue flick relentlessly against your clit and only now moving your free hand from your face and trailing to your stomach. 

You can’t even talk, so you don’t. You lift your shirt up until you can at least rub against your nipples, just to heighten the pleasure your best friend is so graciously giving you.

His eyes roll back when you do that, only to fall back on you and get a frustrated grunt from him. He’s a bit annoyed that the shirt is still covering you despite your hand under it, fondling yourself. He’s thinking with his cock, so fucking aroused that he doesn’t think twice when he aggressively lifts your shirt up to your chin and watches the way your fingers poke and prod at yourself.

He inhales a sharp breath at the image, and his hips fuck harder against the mattress at that. His fingers speed up and now he’s focused. You feel him all over you from the waist down, his tongue flicking and lips sucking against your swollen clit, his fingers relentlessly fucking into you, your fingers heightening those sensations by playing with your own tits– then, oh, then you notice. 

Jake, you’re best fucking friend, is so goddamn horny that he’s dry humping against your bed and whining out moans against your clit. Probably to avoid asking for more, to avoid making you feel obligated to get him off too, to avoid anything you may not want or consent to. And that’s why he’s your best friend.

It doesn’t take long after that, your hips come to a stop as you watch him get himself off all while getting you off, and you find your orgasm bubbling up much faster than if you’d have imagined solely because of the image in front of you.

“Jake, you’re fucking whining.” You groan almost as needy as he does, rolling your hips up in a stutter. 

He was almost gonna stop, because yeah, he is whining. Gasping for air but only tasting you, only swallowing up the moans you give to him, only inhaling the dull scent of the fruity soap you used when you showered. But, you moan louder after you say that. You like it. You like seeing him act so desperate. So he continues, shamefully reaching one of his hands between himself and the bed and quickly shoving it down his pants, circling around his cock and continuing to fuck into it. 

If he thinks hard enough, you’re what he’s fucking right now, and technically, he is. With his fingers and mouth at least. When your hips stutter more, he fucks harder against his hand and holds his fingers inside of you as deep as he can get them. There, he sucks against your clit until you’re the one whining louder. 

You’re shocked at how quickly you’re getting off. Releasing a splash against him in a breathy, choked up sob. Nearly squeezing his head between your thighs to the point he almost misses the way you breathe out strings of praises toward him. But he hears them. 

He definitely heard you say that he looks sexy with your hand in his hair, and god, did he ride off of the fact that you encouraged him to get off with you. Regardless of if you knew if he could or not, regardless of if you knew his hand was providing just enough pleasure for him to do just that. 

There, as your orgasm subsides with his tongue still flicking your sensitive clit, you watch him writhe his hips against your mattress, his eyes slammed shut, and his breath coming out in pornographic moans. So this is what Jake looks like when he cums. It’s desperate, but somehow, it feels passionate too.

You’re all dazed after the fact, pussy pulsing and tingling from the loss of his lips and fingers once he pulls back and lays against your bed with a lazy smile. His pants are uncomfortable, but he doesn’t mind as he wipes his hand across his shirt and watches the way you catch your breath. 

“So,” He tries to say, clearing his throat. “I– um– hope that’s what you needed?”

You’re shy. You’re never fucking shy, especially towards Jake, but god. 

“Um, yeah,” you sigh out, lifting from the bed and looking back at him. Part of you wondering if that’s what it’s supposed to be like when someone gives you good head, or if that’s just…what it’s like when Jake gives head.

For some reason, you genuinely don’t think another man would ever eat you out to that level again. There’s no way, based on experience. 

“It was definitely what I needed.” 

He nods in a shy way, reminding himself that his pants are fucking nasty right now. So, he goes to stand up and extends a hand out to you. 

“Let’s go clean up.” 

You shake your head, not at all wanting to move from this bed. He nods again, pulling your shirt back down for you and leaning to look at you. 

“I’m gonna bring you something to clean up with, and I’m gonna shower.”

You smile at him, a bit dazed as you make yourself comfortable on your messy sheets as you think hard about the fact that this dopey motherfucker really never told you how good he was at this? Rude.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake looks all proud of himself when he comes back to your room and cuddles into bed with you much like he always has. 

“I didn’t expect to sleep over, I have work in the morning.” He whispers in a rasp against your back, curling around you like the perfect big spoon. 

You’re quick to turn on his work alarm on your phone, like you always do when he crashes during weeknights. Because, what best friend doesn’t have alarms set for each other anyway?

After a few more long moments of silence, you try to talk. Mostly because your brain is swimming with the fact that, like, you’re not sure but it’s just– wow. 

“Hey, um–”

“Hmm?” He hums out in a sleep-heavy voice.

“Did you actually enjoy doing that?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I literally came in my pants.” His sudden louder voice causes you to jump, but you relax back into his gasp. 

“Oh,” You think hard. “Is this gonna change stuff between us?”

“Probably, but not in like, a bad way. More like in the can-i-eat-you-out-all-the-time-way.” He responds with mock-confidence, shifting a bit and hugging you closer to him, as if to hide the way he’s trying to make this sound like a joke. For his own comfort, really.

You smile.

“And don’t tell other dudes my secrets.” He adds.

“I won't.”

Jake has his own smile from behind you, wondering if he really is just that good at eating pussy. The truth is, he’s done it a handful of times but he was just really really interested in doing it for you. For…reasons.

・・・・・・THIS WAS ORIGINALLY TWO PARTS, NOW IT’S ONE. YOU’RE WELCOME・・・・・・

“Hey, um,”

“Hmm?” Jake hummed out in a sleep-heavy voice.

“Did you actually enjoy doing that for me?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I literally came in my pants.” He responded in a sudden, louder voice. 

“Oh,” You think hard. “Is this gonna change stuff between us?”

“Probably, but not in like, a bad way. More like in the can-i-eat-you-out-all-the-time-way.” 

You remember the conversation that happened after he went down on you like it was yesterday, and he’s a goddamn liar. Nothing changed in your friendship with him, and he certainly doesn’t ask to eat you out all the time either. If anything, you’ve felt disappointed time and time again with the aftermath of that night.

It’s weighing on you in a strange way. At first, the weeks following the first and apparently, only time Jake went down on you, you almost expected him to ask for a repeat. You wanted to return the favor. You wanted him to ask but he never did. Even when he came over to hang out, even when you tried to lay down hints.

Nothing changed.

In fact, he doesn’t even talk about it. He doesn’t look at you as if he’s tasted you, and he doesn’t act like he came in his palm against your bed, right in front of you. He’s just…Jake. Sweet, caring, aloof, Jake. And you’re just you. Except you want to be someone else at this point. Someone that he does feel differently around after that.

Maybe you weren’t a memorable event for him when it comes to intimacy. Maybe he prefers to pretend it never happened? Maybe he was really just doing you a favor and intending for it to never go past the initial act. Even with his sweet words after the fact. Maybe, that was just to reassure you so it wouldn’t be awkward. 

You’re a version of you who wants to know what the fuck he’s thinking about. Did it taste bad? Did he get cold feet about it all? Arguably, if things did get weird after what happened, you’d feel more comfortable than you do with the situation as it stands. 

It is weird now, but only because it’s not weird for him. 

Even now, as you lay across the same bed where he had his head nestled between your legs, you can almost feel the tingle of what it felt like. The way his hair tickled your thighs, and the way his fingers laid against the flesh of your legs. The sun is beaming in through your windows and it still doesn’t feel as warm as it did when he cuddled against you that night. It’s been weeks and your heart is sick for him by this point. Sick with confusion, angst, lust, maybe even love if you think hard enough. 

You miss him a lot more than before as you throw your hand up to your face in a gentle slap as if to knock yourself out of it. This is insane. Every day you wake up feeling this way, thinking of him, and where you stand with him. It wasn’t like this at first, you truly expected him to come back for more and now you’re just sitting here with a loop of reasons as to why he never did. 

Insane. You’ve gotten head from so many people and didn’t think twice about them the next day, Jake is different though. You knew he would be too.

Why is Jake any different? Why do you miss him so badly right now? Why couldn’t he pick up on it either? Even worse, why do you feel like doing that with him was a mistake?

He’s with his parents for the weekend, and you’re here still thinking about shit that should have been released with your orgasm. 

You haven’t gone on any dates since that day, you haven’t met up with any one other than him to hang out, and at this point you’re starting to feel a little pathetic for falling in so deep. It’s entirely one sided, he makes that very clear.

So, naturally, you hop up with the confidence of a damn lion and decide that today, it ends. You will stop making it weird between the two of you, if he has even noticed anyway. You’re gonna get dressed, look hot as fuck, and sit on your couch swiping left and right until you find a hot piece of man that’s willing to take you out tonight.

That’s when something dawns on you. You remember Jake briefly mentioning Sunghoon to you, which seemed more like an implication if anything at the time. 

Why would Sunghoon be jealous of what happened? You can admit to being attracted to him but it’s not like the two of you hang out often or anything, and it’s also kind of a rule for yourself that you don’t fuck within the friendgroup. Jake was an exception, solely because that’s your best friend. Or, well, was your best friend. 

Now though? Who cares about these little rules you create for yourself? You need a confidence boost. You need your mind to be taken off of this little spiral you keep falling into. Most of all, you need to be proven wrong that you can still get off without it being him. 

So, texting Sunghoon? Easy. 

Thankfully, Sunghoon texting you back at lightning speed seemed even easier for him. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Well, Sunghoon sure did a great job at getting your mind off of Jake for the past couple of hours. 

You lay here in his bed, feeling your body tingle from the sensation of just how well he lived up to the promise of a good time. For hours he touched you, licked against you, fucked you. And yeah, you did fucking enjoy it. 

But why now? Why did you only just decide to give Sunghoon a shot? Why are you lying in his bed, with his heavy arms thrown across you as he snores gently behind you, feeling the need to cry? Why do you wish it was Jake, your best friend who seemed so eager to please and then suddenly leaped ten feet back as if he never suggested it in the first place? 

Your brain is confused despite your body relaxing itself from the state of bliss you were able to experience. You really did enjoy this time with Sunghoon and think that maybe, if you continue to make late night visits to him, the need for your best friend will weaken in time. 

God, if only Jake would just talk about it.

And you fall asleep thinking about that. About how you’ve let your feelings weaken you to the point that it’s genuinely hard to enjoy being pleasured by someone who actually has the capability. 

And, well, you wake up much the same, except Sunghoon was quite quick with his fingers upon waking up himself. Showing you that even if the person you want doesn’t have a thing to do with you, he sure does. 

“Good morning,” He rasps in a sleepy voice, fingers already traveling down your stomach as he hugs up against you from behind. “Glad you finally came through for me.” 

You quirk a brow. Right, Jake is the whole reason you're here. If not for mentioning him, at least.

“I finally came through?” You chuckle, your body jolting at the ticklish sensation of his lips brushing the back of your neck. “You knew I was single, why didn’t you call me?” 

You feel a harsher kiss against your neck, and his fingers only travel further down now. 

“Bro code.” He whispers, dipping his fingers between your still naked thighs. “I’m not overstepping if you’re the one asking for it.” He slides his fingers gently back and forth between your legs, trying to work you up. “And you did.” 

You think hard about that. Bro code, overstepping limits, not coming onto someone unless they do first solely because someone must have asked him not to. And you’d think even harder about who that someone might be, but instead your brain is quickly thrown into the morning sex routine Sunghoon must offer to all of his lovers. 

You enjoy it too, the small moments of bliss where you’re not in your head about what you could have possibly done wrong with Jake for you to end up feeling this way. It’s a brief moment of numbness though, feeling his fingers pleasure you gently can only do so much to quiet your thoughts. 

“Are you saying one of your friends had dibs on me or something?” You laugh in a half-joke, arching your back to rub your ass up and against the bigger and warmer man behind you. 

“You could say that, I’m assuming he missed his chance though–” Sunghoon whispers snidely, now satisfied with how you already drip for him and sliding one of his fingers into you. His other hand, being used to hike one of your legs up and against his hip to open you up for him. “You wouldn’t be here doing this if he didn’t.” 

You clench around his finger unintentionally, pretending you don’t know who you’re both referring to. Mostly because there’s no way in hell it’s your best friend, seeing as how he’s acting like you don’t exist outside of platonic friendship with him. Then again, who else could it be? Jay? Heeseung? Fucking Jungwon? As fucking if. 

“I guess he did miss his chance–” You breathe, now allowing yourself to give into the lazy and slow pleasure being offered. “Deeper.” 

And he listens. Sunghoon goes deeper and deeper with one finger, then two, then three, up until you slip his fingers out of you and plead through your body to have more. Deeper still, holding you from behind, plunging in as if to intentionally fuck the confusion out of you. As if to, maybe, prove that Jake isn’t the only man who can please you now. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

When you eventually find yourself walking through your front door, you do feel better. Sunghoon did have some type of capability to make you feel as desired as Jake did. After all, it’s not often that you sleep over with a man, better yet get fucked again as soon as you wake up with him. 

Even so, you know Jake will be back tomorrow, wanting to hang out yet again as if nothing happened. Thankfully, with Sunghoon around, maybe you can pretend alongside him. Maybe even forget it ever happened. 

You can argue that for the first time, you’re even a bit annoyed when you see his name pop up in your notifications with a call as if you’re not right in the middle of texting Sunghoon. It’s not that you were trying to go back over to his house or anything, but man, he sure is trying to get you to come back for a third round already. 

Maybe you just like when people are eager to please you, or maybe you don’t like to feel as if you’re the one chasing another person. Still, you answer Jake, seemingly releasing all of this resentment you’ve built up for him in an instant. 

“What?” You huff into the phone, feeling it vibrate with another text from Sunghoon and wanting nothing more than to see what his fourth reason would be for you to come over not even two hours after you left. 

“What?” Jake responds in confusion  to you. “What do you mean ‘what’?” 

“I mean what do you want? I’m busy.” You huff again with a roll of your eyes, flopping back on your bed. 

“Oh god, something happened.” Jake groans, though he was simply calling you because he missed your voice. “What’s wrong?” 

“No, not really. Was just trying to figure out what I’m doing tonight when you rudely interrupted me.” 

Something is off, Jake can feel it. Your voice has a bite to it, one that feels like you’re mad at him. Not to mention, he knows what you mean when you say you’re trying to find something to do for the night. He tries to reserve his feelings though, despite wanting that something to be him. 

“Oh, I know there’s an event at one of the clubs downtown tonight I think. Jay mentioned it–” He pauses briefly to hear another annoyed breath from you. “You’re not gonna go with him?” 

“Nah,” You wave off dismissively. “I think I’m just gonna go hang out with Sunghoon.” 

You don’t notice at all the brief and panicked silence for a solid second and a half before Jake reacts.

“Wait, what?” He says quickly after managing to process those words, trying not to sound as panicked as he knows he feels. “Sunghoon? Why?!” 

God, he knew he shouldn’t have said anything about Sunghoon that day, but his confidence was overflowing and he couldn’t help but boast at the time. It’s come back to shoot him in the dick, knowing full well that Sunghoon has been trying to get you into bed since he fucking met you. Hearing you ask for him in this context is something that makes his blood run cold. 

“Relax, I was with him last night. It’s kind of like, maybe gonna be a normal thing now.” 

You refuse to pick up on Jake’s tone. He had all the time in the world to make you feel something other than confusion, and this is just fucking petty at this point. He clearly doesn’t want to have anything with you, so why in the hell should you just sit around hoping? Waiting? 

“Sunghoon? You want to fuck Sunghoon?” He asks in a lower tone, trying to convince himself that he has to be mishearing you. You can hear him shuffle around and close a door behind him, showing that he doesn’t want his parents to hear him. But the frustration showing blatantly in his voice is somehow…satisfying. 

“I already did. I figured he would show me a good time since no one else can, and he did.” You shrug with slight disobedience. Resentment bubbling up in your gut to the extent that you almost want to grill him for having any type of opinion about it. 

Jake hangs on those words for a second. “Since no one else can.” 

He really thought he was the one who could do it for you. 

“Yeah, but–”  Jake starts, feeling like a child almost in the way he protests despite not being in a position to have a say in who you sleep with. “You know what? Nevermind. Do what you want.” He adds blankly, hanging up before you can get another word in. 

Honestly, he doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong because you acted like he was fully capable of doing everything right. Hanging out with him consistently after the fact, not making it weird, flirting with him, asking him to sleep over. 

He wasn’t sure if he should ask you for more or if he should ask you to be his girlfriend first. The whole reason he’s with his parents right now is because he felt the need to run home to his Mom for girl advice. Embarrassing? Yes, but he really wanted to do things right. He cares about you. 

He needed just one single weekend away, and the second he’s gone you’re out fucking other dudes? Fucking Sunghoon? 

By now, that asshole is probably feeling like he’s on top of the world for getting to touch you. Not even he has done what Sunghoon managed to do with you by now and he can’t help but feel pissed about it. 

Whether you’re his or not, Sunghoon never should have been a fucking option. 

So, he calls you right back, pushing back the feeling of how pathetic it seems considering he’s the one who hung up on you. Then, when you don’t pick up, he immediately feels his stomach drop. 

You must be talking to Sunghoon, you must be setting up a time and place to meet with him. And Jake has heard that Sunghoon knows how to fuck. Other people have said he’s good in bed. Surely, if you’ve already been with him once and you’re still wanting to go back to him, those other people weren’t lying. 

To Jake, it feels like he’s losing you to his own friend with each passing second, and it’s weighing so heavy that spamming your phone with calls to interrupt whatever it is you’re doing right now feels like the right thing to do. In fact, it feels like it is the best thing in the world to do. 

He calls again. You don’t answer.

Again.

“What?!” You answer, annoyed. 

“Why would you even want Sunghoon?! Is he really that much better than I am?” He doesn’t think before he says it, because if he did, he wouldn’t have been able to say it at all. 

It’s his turn to experience that awkward silence because in all fairness, you don’t know how to respond to that. You feel annoyed now, you feel confused and quite frankly, blind sided. Since when did he care? 

“What’s that supposed to mean? You came onto me once and then never followed up.” You dead-pan at yourself in the mirror across your bedroom, speaking into the phone with a voice that seems scolding. “I don’t see why you’re mad that I’m hanging out with Sunghoon. We aren’t dating, Jake.”

“Since when? Who said I didn’t want to do it again?” Jake argues back in a whispered voice, showing you that he still can’t be as loud as he’d like to be. He chooses to ignore that last sentence though, pretending as if it doesn’t strike him in the center of the heart. 

“Nobody! That’s the thing, you haven’t said anything about it. Not that you want to, not that you don’t. You’re just being you and it’s driving me up a fucking wall.”

Pause.

“You’re mad because I didn’t make it weird?” It’s like his brain clicks. 

“Pretending it didn’t happen somehow makes it worse.” You lower your voice, ignoring the string of texts Sunghoon is sending you and listening closely to what Jake might say next. Your heart is racing through this hushed argument, and it feels good to admit that you kept thinking about it, even if he hasn’t.

“I wasn’t pretending that it didn’t happen,” He pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I just wasn't sure what the next step was.”

You’re fucking appalled.

“Jake, I have been flirting with you since it happened because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You’re the one who didn’t make any moves, so I figured you wanted it to end there.” You sigh loudly, but somehow feel a bit lighter. “Do you have any idea how that fucked with my confidence?”

Jake sighs along with you on the other end of the line. 

“That’s why I was annoyed earlier, and that’s why I’m going to Sunghoon’s tonight.”

“What?” Jake’s voice raises a bit higher. “Still?!” 

It’s the fact that he’s trying to explain himself. Had he known that you were confused by his lack of, um, touching you, he would have done it every day since it happened! Yet, you’re still considering Sunghoon an option? Knife to the heart, honestly. 

Or maybe he’s not being clear enough with you about this. 

You, on the other hand, nod your head as you hum a confirmation to him, smiling and wondering if this conversation will turn into an event that would, perhaps, have you cancel the hook-up with Sunghoon.

“Why? Are you jealous?” You pry.

“You really called him, and now I’m just sitting here in my old room trying to find a way to get to you before he does….again.” An inhale. “ Yes! I’m fucking jealous!” 

You remain silent, trying to pretend that your pettiness isn’t solely to confirm what he seems to be implying to you. Then, an unintentional chuckle leaves your lips. 

“Why are you laughing?!” His voice is raised again, and he doesn’t seem to stop spilling what he needs to say. “I wanted to do that for you for years and you somehow still didn’t know?” He pauses. “I always made it weird between us, what? You thought I treated all of my friends like that?”

You just listen, feeling your heart beat in time with each word he speaks. Strings of sentences like, “I’m going to kick his ass.” and “You thought I’d just eat you out as a friend?! You’re insane.” and “I would have come home last night if you wanted to feel good so badly, why did you have to go see him, of all people?” 

The confirmation of Jake being the friend who forbade Sunghoon from making a move on you is right there, clear as day. 

“Ah, so the Jake I know isn’t the Jake everyone else knows?” You respond, trying to force the tingling feeling in your gut to calm itself. Hearing him be so blatant to you has your heart doing flips, and it’s not an easy task to make it stop.

“Of-fucking-course not!” He rolls his eyes, you can definitely tell. “You had me wrapped around your pinky from day one.”

“And you really thought that, with the way you seemed so uninterested–” You pause, processing his words. “I would have asked you to come home from your parent’s house to get me off? For what? Funsies? You thought I'd be brave enough or selfish enough to ask such a thing?” 

Jake sighs deeply, seemingly fed up with the situation. 

“It wouldn’t be because you are selfish.” He breathes out, almost angrily. “And for the last time, I’m not uninterested. I was just trying to do things right. I don’t just want to fuck you, you know.” 

“And you didn’t think to tell me until weeks after you ate me out?” You smile harder, trying to contain the heat flushing over your cheeks. “Until after I thought I had a pH imbalance and maybe you were just grossed out by me?!” 

“I’m genuinely shocked you didn’t know already. Made me think you weren’t interested enough to like–” He pauses, not wanting to be too telling. “I guess waiting and being polite isn’t really your style. I should have known that though.”

You let him continue, because you can tell he’s simply taking breaths and small pauses to figure out how to express his thoughts to you. 

“You can’t tell me that over the years, you never once noticed how often I stared at you.” He lowers his voice again, softening it to an extent that you actually feel the butterflies fly from your belly to your chest. 

”The fact that I jumped in head first and offered to do that for you? I didn’t think I had to tell you at this point…”He breathes out a chuckle through the line this time. “And for the record, I couldn’t get enough of it. I was just trying to like– I don’t know.”

You listen to him breathe deeply, again. 

“I didn’t want you to think I was in it just for the sex, I guess.”

There. There it is. You’re nearly kicking your feet, feeling him confirm feelings and erase any hint of doubt within you. Despite never truly noticing that he treats you differently compared to his other friends, despite never thinking too hard about the way he looks at you. 

“You acted like it wasn’t a big deal, Jake. I’m not joking. If that’s how you act when you like someone, you shouldn’t blame me for not noticing.”

“I literally tongue fucked you.” He dead-pans. “Friends don’t just do that.”

“I thought we were friends who could do that.” You argue. “But I guess you’re not quite looking to just remain friends, are you?” 

“No,” Jake sighs. “Mom told me I needed to take you out on some extravagant date and express my undying love for you with a handful of red roses, but I guess this is just how it’s gonna be. After all, this is you.” 

“And this is you.” You confirm. 

“I was going to come home tomorrow and try to lie our way to the restaurant, which I still can, if you want. You kind of fucked up my plan though.” 

You pause at his words, suddenly feeling like shit for not realizing sooner. In your defense though, if he really did like you from day one, you didn’t exactly have a chance to see how he would have acted without feelings. The Jake you know is your best friend, and someone you trusted with everything, you thought he treated everyone as well as he treated you. That’s why, when he didn’t change, you couldn’t read him anymore. 

Then again, all of this could have been fucking avoided if he had just voiced it to you. 

“Romance is dead and it’s your fault.” Jake tries to joke, his soft tone somehow coming out even softer as he waits for some type of response from you. 

“So, are we done fighting?” You ask meekly, tapping your finger against your phone and looking up at the ceiling with a smile that by now, you can’t escape. “Since you’ve just expressed your undying love for me and I very much wouldn’t mind going on a date with you so we can work this out face to face?” 

“Are you still going to fuck Sunghoon?” 

You laugh. 

“Oh yeah, for sure–” To his silence, you immediately take it back. “Oh my god, relax. It’s a joke.” 

“Get better jokes, asshole.” 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“What the fuck?” Jake deadpans into the phone, his heart beating far too fast for his health, but vibing with it anyway because by tomorrow night, he’ll be next to you again. “You seriously had sex with her?!” 

“Hey, she’s the one who called me.” Sunghoon shrugs as he listens. “To be fair, Jake, I did tell her that someone else had dibs on her.”

Jake slaps his forehead and rolls his eyes. 

“You’re such a dick– I told you at least three hundred times that I like her! I don’t have dibs.” He gripes, trying to pretend that he’s not imagining Sunghoon with you, the person he wants the most. 

“Damn right you don’t, because she seemed to have a great t–” 

“Sunghoon, stop. I don’t want to know what happened, but like, stop texting her.” 

Sunghoon’s brow raises in curiosity. 

“Ah, did you finally make a move?”

If there’s anything Jake knows Sunghoon won’t do, it’s go for a woman that is actually unavailable. He has his fun, and he’s not one to turn anyone down if he has an interest in them, bro code be damned. And yeah, he’s still a little pissed at him for hooking up with you…but, it is true, Jake made you feel like he wasn’t even an option in his attempts to be a gentleman. 

Still, boundaries need to be set now. Real boundaries.

“I did, and I would really appreciate it if you back off. I’m trying to make something out of this, you know?”

Sunghoon lightens up, sighing at his loss of a would be fuck-buddy that seemed more promising than some he’s had in the past. 

“Jesus, you’re serious about her aren’t you?” He smirks as he speaks, feeling proud of Jake for finally stepping up for himself. “I mean, I can totally see why. Please excuse me as I mourn that sweet, sweet, pu-” 

“Sunghoon.” Jake warns. “Shut the fuck up.” 

“Relax, jesus.” Sunghoon plays it cool, though he actually is mourning it a little bit. “Good on you though. I’ll back off, don’t worry.” 

Jake rolls his eyes yet again, his love-hate relationship with Sunghoon becoming more fond than ever by this point. Only because the confidence he had in himself before all of this wasn’t entirely where it needed to be. It’s true that he wasn’t exactly a pussy eating god before, nor could he even say he’s amazing at sex but, when it comes to you, he can’t help but be excited. He wants to do it all, be it all for you. 

Never in his life has he eaten pussy like that, and never in your life have you felt a mouth so eager to please between your legs. 

Sunghoon could have been something, but he couldn’t have been Jake, ever. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The day couldn’t go by any slower than it already has. 

Jake comes home tonight, and by home, you mean to your apartment where he doesn’t live. 

Your mind goes in loops on what could possibly happen. Scenarios of him getting cold feet and ignoring that any of this happened at all again. Scenes of him unlocking your door, closing in on you, and kissing you before you can even say “hello”. Images of his hands on you, his mouth on you, what it would feel like if he were to…well, oh.

You snap yourself out of it, every bad scenario in your head gets replaced with one where you’ve got Jake working himself on and inside of you. It’s making you feel hot, insane, and entirely too horny for the proposed date night full of talking that needs to be had first. 

Then you freeze, your hand on the handle of your mug as you wonder a bit too hard. 

What if he doesn’t show up at all? 

You did run off the second he left the city and fuck one of your mutual friends. Arguably, you were equally as bad at communicating with him as he was to you during the past few weeks. Sure, you flirted, but was that even enough when he literally put his tongue inside of you “as a friend”? 

God, he’d have every right to not show up. To move on, to never speak to you again. 

You’ve been so stupid. Both of you have, stumbling together but apart into something neither of you could even begin to navigate. For you? Sex is easy. Feelings though? That’s where it gets complicated. Yet, still, you find yourself more willing than ever to let these feelings roam free if he accepts them at face value. 

Solely because of how shitty it felt when you were trying to pretend that Jake was nothing but a one time thing for his sake. 

And when the time comes, after hours of brooding, getting worked up, and feeling insane, you’re looking like a mess when he knocks on your door. So much for looking good for him. You’re an absolute fucking wreck when you open that door and dead-pan stare at him and his bags. 

“Hi,” He smiles, not quite making eye contact because he really is kind of embarrassed by all of this. “I’m here.” 

You step back from the door, eyes remaining on him. 

“You’re here.” You say quietly, watching him step into your apartment and drop his bags. 

You feel his breath before you hear his voice. So much closer than just moments before, right up against your ear, and his arms wrapping tightly around you. 

“Felt like I was gone for too long–” He whines slightly against you, breathing in a breath and taking in your scent. “Didn’t know I could miss you like that.” 

You fucking melt. Out of all of those scenarios and fantasies in your head, this wasn’t one of them. Which goes to show that Jake is the one person in this world who can surprise you time and time again. You’ve hugged him like this hundreds of times, but this one, oh this one. He feels so close after feeling so fucking far away.

“You were gone for two days,” You smile, nuzzling against him and gripping his waist in your own hug. 

“Two days too long, though.” You feel him smile, that little upturn of his lips pushing his cheek up and against you as he chuckles and pulls back.  “We don’t have a lot of time, but we can still make it to the restaurant if you still want to go? I can shower when we get back.”

You pull back, offering him a small nod and feeling a bit let down. You wanted more, especially after that hug. The fact that he can contain himself right now feels isolating. Are you the only one who has a vibrating brain right now? He really wants to have the conversation at the restaurant? 

He really wants to do this the right way?

You look like shit, but arguably he might think he looks worse considering the long trip back to you. Still, the restaurant is the chosen option to have this conversation, and you’re ready to get it over with so that finally the two of you can take a step forward. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The restaurant is nice. There’s a buzz of conversations surrounding the two of you but most of it feels muffled because the only sound you can truly hear is Jake’s hushed and awkward attempts to get the ball rolling. 

“So, I guess that’s why I went to my parent’s house. It’s embarrassing, I know–” He says before you cut him off. 

“Tell me how you felt the past few weeks when we were together.” You say boldly, wanting so badly to have the confirmation that he really does want this, and that he suffered much like you did.

You watch a fan of rosy tint cross his cheeks as he breaks eye contact with you, looking to the table and then back up at you. 

“Okay, um–” He stiffens a bit, glancing around to make sure no one is looking or listening in. “When we weren’t together, it was a lot easier for me to think, but when we were together, I could only really think about one thing.” He admits, nodding to himself. 

You look at him curiously before you see his eyes light up in panic.

“No! No, no. Not like, sex…” He looks down. “I mean, yeah maybe sex too but mostly I just couldn’t stop thinking about ways to make you want me more than anyone else.” 

Your heart swells at his panicked save, and then the words that follow. 

“I think I already did want you more than anyone else.” You admit back to him. “Even if I didn’t know I had feelings until you did that to me– I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

He smiles, reaching over the table as if to ask for your hand. 

“What about you? What did you think about when we were together after that night?” He asks for his own confirmation now. 

“Sex. Mostly, I guess. I felt like no one else would ever be able to make me feel that good again.” You look away, feeling ashamed and seen. “Goddamn, I sound so dramatic.”

Jake snorts, laughing at how he should have expected this but the confidence boost is a happy surprise to him. 

“To be fair though, Jake, I think I had my feelings and my lust for you mixed up.” You continue. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I still feel both of those things every time I see you, or even think of you.”

“Feelings and lust?” He nods with a smile and wiggling his eyebrows, his eyes glistening in the warm lighting of the restaurant. 

You nod in confirmation, side eyeing the waitress who walks over to take down your order. 

Both of you are somehow dissociated outside of each other, there’s no way you’re not because you don’t recall what you ordered, nor what he ordered, and he appears to be feeling much the same. The moment she walks away, he’s continuing. 

“I was really that good, huh?” A smirk from him, and a nod from you. 

“What about right now then? How do you feel when you look at me?” He follows up, looking down at the table. 

“Both of those things.” You dead-pan, squeezing your legs together as you look at him and feel the warmth radiating from even this far away. The confirmation of feelings is enough by itself to have your thoughts in the gutter about him, especially after weeks of wanting him. 

Especially after having to be in this stupid fucking restaurant in the first place.

He quirks a brow before lowering his voice, his eyes drooping a bit. 

“Do you have any fucking idea how badly I’ve wanted to get my mouth on you?” 

God, there he is. That same bold best friend who originally suggested eating you out in the first place. Not entirely unfounded that he said it, but fuck, your cheeks are searing. 

“Jake, we’re in public.” You warn, knowing damn well that you’ve not been able to think of anything else either, but for the sake of the foundation of this relationship, you want to tame yourself a little bit.

“Since we started hanging out, every fucking time.” He continues, ignoring your warning. “I would get so mad when you’d go to your little hook-ups. Sometimes I even wondered if you did it intentionally to piss me off.” 

Your cheeks are still hot, but now there’s a bit of guilt filling you. 

“You really had no idea how badly I wanted that to be me?” He continues with his streak of confidence, unintentionally dirty talking to you solely because he, genuinely, cannot deny his attraction or his feelings for you by this point. “Even right now, I want nothing more than to have you to myself.”

You pause, the guilt leaving you in an instant as it’s fully replaced with Jake’s eagerness to have you in full, finally. 

“Why–” You sigh, dropping your head into your hands to hide your face from him. “Why are we at this restaurant again?” 

You feel his hand reach back over to you, removing your hands from your face and dipping down to look at you. 

“It’s so fucking hard to contain myself right now. I can admit that.” He whispers, blinking at you. “If you feel satisfied with where we stand, I’d be more than happy to leave this table now and prove everything to you.”

An instant nod from you, and an instant confirmation from Jake. 

You’re both out of the restaurant before a single sip of water, before a single visual inspection of the forgotten food the two of you ordered, and before any doubt could creep in to ruin the electrifying atmosphere you were indulging in with him. 

For Jake, his self control wavers with each passing moment as you sit next to him in the car. You look so calm as he drives as quickly and safely as possible back to your apartment, shaming himself for ever considering the two of you go in the first place. Still, the outcome is somehow more satisfying. Both of you wanting to leave just so you can truly be alone together? He couldn’t ask for a better night. 

Still, your calmness contrasts the way his insides vibrate the closer he gets to your place, and he wonders how the fuck you manage to do it. If you were to simply glance at him at the right moment, you’d see his entire body melt in the fantasies of what the two of you may be willing to do tonight. 

Years worth of pining in his head and heart are bubbling up now. You’re inviting him in, you’re accepting him, you’re wanting him back. 

What he doesn’t know though, is that you are quite literally imagining yourself wrapped in chains to this seat. Why? Because if it weren’t for those astral chains, you’d be on top of him in an instant, reassuring him that if there’s anything in the world you’ve wanted within the past few weeks, it’s him. You’d be apologizing for never taking note of his feelings before, and kissing away all of the moments he wished he could have had with you before, replacing them with very real, firm, hot kisses. 

Thankfully though, you manage to tame the beast from within and somehow, so does he. Up until you get through your apartment door and the electrifying atmosphere sizzles away in an instant. 

You expected to have the confidence to, quite literally, jump on him as soon as your door closed. Instead, you find yourself standing in awe at the entryway. 

Jake, on the other hand, would love nothing more than to have you right this moment, speeding and parking crooked be damned, he will not allow it just yet. 

“Listen,” He reaches out to you, pulling you up and against his chest. “I need to shower before I let myself do anything.” 

You breathe a sigh of relief, noting that the awkwardness came from the fact that Jake’s energy is seeping out of him, lust and worry for possibly not being as clean as he’d like to be for this. 

It feels strange, actually. You can imagine you’ve had many hook-ups with men who wouldn’t even consider a shower before inviting you over. 

“Hurry up then, before I decide to call Sungh-” 

“Don’t you fucking dare make that joke right now,” Jake squeezes you tighter against you, hating himself for constantly bringing up reasons to wait. 

“If we are going to like,” He pauses, struggling to say it out of pure nervousness that you might change your mind. “You know, be exclusive, Sunghoon’s name is forbidden.”

You chuckle against him before shoving him back in a playful way. 

“Deal. Now, can you fucking hurry?” You roll your eyes playfully, internally a little thankful for the short moments you will have to prepare yourself for this. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Damn this shower for feeling so good. Jake could fall asleep under the warmth if it weren’t for the fact that he’s been half-hard this entire time and truly fighting with himself on how to approach this situation.

It’s kind of awkward, actually. Knowing exactly what the two of you are about to do but having to wait even for fifteen minutes makes it seem like you both have a scheduled hook up and nothing more. 

It’s not a hook up though. Jake is finally where he’s always wanted to be with you, in your shower priming his body to go absolutely fucking insane on you. Before, when he ate you out, he really was controlling himself. He wanted to do more with you so bad, and now? God…

He’s flushed as he finally makes his way out of the shower, length still stiffening and softening with each thought that passes. He can barely look at himself in the mirror without wanting to laugh at how embarrassing he truly is. 

You’d probably laugh too, and he’d love the sound of it. 

Then, he’s faced with a dilemma. 

You, on the other hand, find yourself lying quietly in your bedroom after doing your best to fix the mess of yourself for whatever Jake may offer. Waiting for him, and ultimately wondering what the fuck is taking him so long when you finally hear the bathroom door open.

Faintly, you can smell your shampoo and body wash that he used as you hear him make his way to the living room and not find you. 

Then, you hear him making his way to your room. He doesn’t open the door any further than it already was and instead, stands behind it quietly before muttering out. 

“Um,” He starts, putting his hand on your door and only peeking his head in. “I wasn’t sure if there was a point to putting my clothes on–” 

Fucking pause.

God, he must sound so stupid saying that, especially after looking into your room and seeing you lying against your bed changed into the exact same pajamas you put on the night he initially made a move on you through the guise of friendship. 

Well, now it’s not even a question and he was right to assume that all he needed to do was wrap a towel around his waist and come to you. 

You watch his eyes travel your body curiously, a smile forming on his face.

“If you’re wondering if I put panties on this time too,” You smile, reaching a hand out as if to invite him to open that door and come have at it. “I didn’t.”

That’s all it takes, really, to have him pushing the door open and not-so-calmly making his way to your bed. 

Seeing his naked and damp chest is one thing, but smelling your scent all over him is another, especially when the first thing he does is practically envelop you with his body and plant his lips straight on your own. 

The first real kiss. Despite his lips having been on you before, you melt into it and find yourself forgetting how differently he’s acting now compared to before. He was so confident, so cocky, and now he’s almost docile. Meek. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” He leans back to whisper, adjusting his body so that he’s more comfortable and leaning down on one arm while the other holds your cheek. “Can’t believe you let me eat you out before ever letting me actually kiss you.”

Your face heats up at the comment, making you feel more scandalous than you ever truly tried to be. But he’s not wrong, and you regret making him feel like eating you out was the only way to get to your heart.

Strangely though, it was the way to your heart. Him doing that for you practically threw you into the deep end in search for more, from him, specifically. 

“Can’t believe you decided that you should just eat me out rather than admit your feelings for me.” You counter with a smile, lifting your head to kiss against him again and pretending you can’t feel the weight of his length under the loosely knotted towel on his waist. 

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” He says through the kisses, quickly losing the ability to speak when you lick against his bottom lip and, ultimately, take control of the act.

He wonders what your mouth could do to him. His entire body reacts to the way your tongue flicks and licks against his own, it takes everything in him to try and control himself from pushing too far too soon– until he realizes that there is no reason to control himself now. 

Never has making out gotten him this turned on, and it’s not a surprise because it’s you. 

He half moans, half chuckles into your kiss when he does it, pressing his hips down and against your thigh much like he did previously to the very mattress he’s got you lying against. 

“There’s so much I want to do,” He finally admits, pulling back from the kiss and hanging his head to feel how his cock reacts to the flesh of your thigh. “Please, let me do all of it.” 

You sigh, somehow feeling a pang of arousal radiate between your legs despite not yet being touched there. The weight of him on you is enough, and all you can do is nod and await the ways he intends to relieve himself with you.

Hours of head, he could give. Even more hours of burying his cock between those pretty lips and watching you return the favor for him. His confidence grows as your body moves under him, waiting, waiting, waiting for what he will do next. 

First, he plants another kiss to you, pressing his hips hard against your thigh with a breathy sigh before moving his lips down, against your neck. 

At the same time, his hands work their way up your loose shirt, cupping one breast in his palm and easily teasing your nipple with his fingers. He works his lips down the center of your clothed chest, down to your stomach, and then up again. His nose nudges your shirt up with each kiss, until his lips replace his fingers and he’s sucking your nipple into his mouth.

You’ve never felt so wanted in your life with the way he appears to be savoring you. Leaving his own pleasure neglected once again, his entire focus is on you. You arch your back up a bit, hands shooting to his head and cradling it there against your breast. 

He groans when you scratch against the nape of his neck, wiggling your hips under him and chasing the sensation that his mouth manages to send to your clit. He groans again when your nipple remains firm between his lips, and he begins to nibble. 

And this time, he moans when he manages to trail one of his hands down just to see how much it will take of this to get you wet. He tucks one hand under your shorts, only to find that you’re already dripping, soaking his fingers with a mere single slide up your folds.

“Fuck,” He sighs as if it’s a compliment when he pops his mouth off of you, flicking his head up to look at your already dazed eyes. “Already?” 

You glance away, embarrassed by how badly you want the man who was once your best friend, and is now….more than that. You can feel his fingers graze and gently play around with the heat your body has already released for him, rolling your eyes back each time he pretends he’s going to offer pressure to your clit. 

He’s fucking teasing you, and you know it.

He knows it too, because of fucking course he is. After years of torture, wondering if you’d ever manage to get wet at all with the thought of him, here you are, dripping under him when all he’s done is kiss you and fondle your nipples. 

Briefly, he remembers how needy your hips were when his tongue was seeping into you. He remembers the taste of each thrust you pressed against his face, and the smell of how badly you needed him at the time. 

As used as he was by you that night, he wants nothing more now than to pull those same desperate moans from you, to taste the wet inside of you that no man ever managed to release for you. 

“I feel like I’m going insane,” He finally breathes out, still toying with your folds and keeping an eye on the way your eyes glare back at him. “I want you so fucking bad–” He stutters now, instantly sliding his fingers into you and scooting down on the bed at lightening speed, pressing your loose shorts to the side just to get the taste of you against his lips again.

Your legs instantly shoot over his shoulders, and one of his hands reaches up to hug your thigh against him as his tongue immediately laps at every dip and crease of your cunt. His eyes nearly roll back at being able to experience this again, his fingers holding firm without a single movement just so he can feel your body confirm that you want him just as much. 

The clench around his fingers are enough, and he licks around them only for a moment before returning his lips to your clit and giving you all he’s got. 

All he can feel is your legs tightening around his head, nearly lifting your ass up and off of the bed, all he can hear is his own moans vibrating through him each time he hears you react. 

Arguably, even after that brief moment of teasing from him, feeling his mouth so eager, much like before, sent you straight into a blissed state and made you forget about the restaurant, the shower, the weeks of pining before this. His mouth is so warm, and his vibrating moans sooth your clit through its desperate attempts to beg for more. 

You can’t help the fact that your legs hug his head, or the way your hands shoot down much like before, scratching through his hair before dropping down and spreading yourself open with two fingers solely to expose your clit in full to the assault of his tongue he’s giving you. 

He missed you so much, he missed this so much. Never again will he leave you wondering, from this point forward, you should be well aware that if you so much as pushed him to his knees and lifted a leg over his shoulder, he’d be eating like a fucking king. 

Still, even with his immense love for kissing your pussy until your legs shake, there’s more to be experienced here than just this. His pace slows with the reality of that, and only now does he move his fingers with intent, and he pulls back to see how you’re spreading yourself for him, even as your legs fall from his shoulders.

“Fuck.” He rasps, lips glistening with a mixture of his own saliva and your slick. 

You lend him a drunken smile, nodding slowly as you focus in on the way his fingers scissor you open. Within a blink though, his face is right there hovering above you, staring intently at the way you react to his fingers. 

“You look so good right now, you know that?” He compliments, leaning down again to plant a kiss against you, only pumping his fingers in faster when your kiss appears to be more hungry than his own. “God, I can feel you squeeze my fingers–” 

And it’s true, he’s seeing stars solely because he can feel the clench of your pussy walls pushing his two fingers together, almost pushing against his attempts to scissor you open and curl them into the spot inside he knows you have. He can only imagine how good that would feel if he were to…

His eyes squeeze shut in a drawn out moan at the thought, his own kiss growing more hungry as he releases the towel from his waist and quickens the pace of his fingers inside of you. 

You can feel him press his cock against you, and the weight of it only becomes heavier when his fingers pause inside of you just so he can slip them out and use those same slick-coated digits to hold his length down and against you before he slides it between your lips. Now coating himself in the same wet sensation. 

You listen closely to his moan, knowing that he seems fond of neglecting his own pleasure to the point of doing near-embarrassing things to get it back when he needs it the most. It’s strangled, almost. You can hear him swallow around it when he slides up harshly, bumping your clit and causing your shorts to stretch against the crease of your thigh. 

He seems so…desperate. Yet, he can have anything he wants. 

“Keep it spread open–” He mutters when he feels you try to remove the hand that had been holding your pussy out on display for him. “I want to feel all of it.”

God, you’ve never heard him say something so sexy. Easily you do as he says, now using both hands to hold either side of your pussy open for him, and feeling the underside of his length slide against your hole. 

You let out a pleased sigh, despite your shorts becoming a nuisance at this point. It’s easy to forget you’re still wearing them though, because they only become drenched more and more as the moments pass with Jake.

You can genuinely just assume that his cock must be aching as he does this, leaking all over you. That’s something you don’t mind at all, because the stimulation is far beyond what you could ever ask for. 

“Jake–” You try to speak, only to be cut off by his hand sliding under your head and his lips attaching yet again to you.

There, you can’t help it when you remove your hands and shoot them up to his face. Holding him there, feeling the way his jaw moves when he licks into your mouth in a desperate attempt to get as much of you as he can in this moment. 

His hips fuck forward much like they did into his palm all those weeks ago, and the anticipation of if or when he finally plunges it into you drives you to kiss him just as hard as he does you.

There is nothing but the sound of kissing in the room save for muffled moans from both of you, entirely tangled up together as he does nothing more than grind himself against you. His hand cradling your head and the other still pressing his length down and against you as close as he can manage. Yours, cupping his cheeks as he kisses you, up until you run one hand down to take over for him.

In that moment, with his free and now shaking hand, he pulls back entirely and just looks at you.

He’s out of it, entirely gone from this world as he stares down with his hair drying by the minute from that shower, messy as all hell with darkened hooded eyes. He continues to stare, each thrust against you becoming pointed to the extent that it almost feels like he’s already fucked you for hours. 

And then, you feel it. The weight lifting, your shorts being stretched until they’re sliding down your thighs and off of you, and then the warmth as he adjusts his hips just barely enough to line up with your quivering hole, practically begging for him to stretch you out for the first time. 

His eyes falter only for a moment when he realizes that this is a moment he will never forget. The way you look up at him with glassy and needy eyes, out of breath, seemingly loving him as much as he’s always loved you. 

“Yeah?” He whispers, not breaking eye contact even for a moment. 

“Please.” You mutter out, not fully intending for it to sound so broken.

And as broken as your voice was in that instance, he grows much weaker by it. Dropping his head with a deep sigh, a smile, and then a chuckle.

“You really, really, can’t look at me like that and expect me to be gentle…” He pauses to look at you again. “For your sake, please tell me to slow down.”

You can barely comprehend a word he’s saying when you can feel the head of his cock teasing where you need it the most. 

“Please.” You rasp out again, wrapping your legs around his waist and forcing his body forward, ultimately sliding the tip of his length into you yourself. 

“Oh, fuck–” He chokes out before sucking in a breath and letting out a moan at the feeling. His body jerks at the sensation, the sound of your voice, the way you pulse around him. “Fuck, so good.” He continues to mutter, controlling himself for only a few seconds longer just to see if you have the ability to understand that he truly and honestly will not have the ability to go easy on you at this point. 

“Deeper.” You plead, squeezing your legs tighter around him, uncaring of his attempt to control the situation. 

That’s all it takes. Your broken voice already had him shaking, and now he’s giving up any and all control that he could have possibly hoped to have. 

Right there, with your legs hugging his waist, your hands gripping the pillow behind your head, and his hands finding purchase on either side of your shoulders, he sinks himself into you as deep as he can go and feels as if the life is being choked out of him over how fucking good it feels. 

He throws his head back in an erotic and attractive moan of relief, allowing you a glimpse at the expanse of his stretched neck, naked of any marked territory. Still, your vision goes white when the stretch hits you.

So big, so strong on top of you. You can imagine he really could fuck you hard, you hope he doesn’t go gentle on you at all, actually

“Shit, please,” You moan brokenly again, releasing your pillow and gripping his forearms. “Jake, god–” You have no words to describe how good he feels inside of you, you couldn’t begin to fathom trying to explain to him how perfect he is. 

It feels deep, deeper than you ever could have imagined. His length alone should have been enough to tell you that, but you hadn’t yet factored in the girth of it. So heavy inside of you, touching each soft and sensitive surface your pussy has to offer. 

Your body jolts in adjustment, knocking the breath out of you despite him not moving just yet. 

“Shh–” He soothes, not at all actually wanting to hush your cries for him. In fact, he’s simply saying it because he could quite literally release at any moment if you continue to speak and clench him like this. And when he finally looks down at you, he can’t fucking help it.

His hips move at their own volition, and he was right in believing there is no gentle fuck to be had here. He slides out only slightly, with the intent to fuck you as full of him as he can. He wants to stay deep, because you asked, and he wants to keep you feeling stretched around him because he can truly never get over the way you look and sound right now. 

You shake at the feeling of him pressing impossibly deeper into you, keeping his hips flush against you before snapping his hips back more now. A slightly empty feeling inside of you being filled once again within a second. 

His moans sound beautiful, he feels beautiful, and all you can do is stare up at him with watery eyes and a slack jaw, wondering why it took him so long to do this with you.

Wondering why it took you so long to want it at all, when now, you think you could never feel this good with another person again. 

His arms flex in your grasp with each thrust, and his eyes land on each visible part of your body before he weakens his stance and lowers himself to you, hips still fucking you open at a pace that’s only becoming more and more rapid, more and more fucking blinding. 

“Yeah, yeah–” Jake suddenly chimes with out of breath words, kissing you before you can comprehend or respond to those words. “No one has ever reacted like this for me–” He continues, pointing his thrusts harder into you. “Feels so good, so tight around me.” He chokes up at the last few words, stuttering his and picking up a different pace.

This time, those harsh thrusts pull back further, emptying you before slowly pressing into you again. 

“I want you to remember how this feels,” He continues, seemingly rambling against your lips with each slow thrust. “No one will ever fuck you like I will.” 

Your hooded eyes shoot open with arousal at his confident boasting. Those words feel so final, as if it isn’t even a rule, but a logical fact that only the two of you could ever find to be true. 

You can’t even manage a response, and instead moan before tucking your lips up and against his neck, using one hand to grip his hair and skew his head. 

That once naked and markless neck is no more. He is yours, and you’re lucky enough now to know that this is exactly how he wants you to feel. 

“Ahh, you like that?” He questions your reaction to his words, feeling your hips make attempts to meet him halfway with each thrust. “You like when I talk?” He continues to urge your sucking lips to speak out to him, to answer him, to boost his ego just a bit more. 

“So much,” You nearly whimper against his neck, moving your lips to another spot. “Love when you’re confident like this–”

He’s in heaven hearing those words. As if it’s a confirmation that he wasn’t just talking dirty. You both truly take those words and will fuck by them from this point forward. He truly doesn’t want anyone else, and hopefully, you’d never give another person the chance to make an attempt to fuck you the way he does. 

And then the room falls silent again, as if Jake is focused on reminding you with each passing second that he’s never been more sure or right of something in his life. Despite you already believing him, the way his cock pulses inside of you is enough of a reminder even if he had never said it in the first place. 

His pace quickens again, and then slows, and then stutters. Only to fall back into a good rhythm before his entire body starts to shake through the act. 

You wonder if this is it. Is this how his body reacts when he’s about to cum? Is this what his face looks like? Is this what his eyes do? Did his arms strain like this the first time? Did his moans come out as choked and desperate? 

None of that matters, because as quickly as it started, he buries himself into you again and stays in that one spot, shaking and timidly looking down at you. 

“Don’t move, please, don’t move.” He practically begs, losing himself to the way your hips chase the feeling of constant stimulation. “Stop moving.” He pleads again, pulling his chest from you and sitting up on his knees, keeping his cock in place deep within you. 

You watch him, unable to keep your hips still, and he watches you– trying to keep his orgasm under control before seeing your fingers trail down your stomach and to your clit.

There, he loses himself, watching you rub the soft spot just above where his cock stuffs you full. 

“I can’t,” He chokes out, snapping his hips back and allowing himself to get lost in the feeling. “Fuck, I really can’t.” He continues to mutter out, pressing his strings of cum ever deeper inside of you as he feels every muscle in his body tense. 

It feels so sensitive, but he can’t stop moving, feeling his cum fill you up to the point it’s surely being pressed out of you by his desperate length wanting nothing more than to stay inside of you.

You moan through it with him, encouraging him to lose himself inside of you, and he’s so beautiful when he does it. The fact that he does it at all has your body tensing on its own. Teetering on the edge of your own orgasm with the way your fingers almost aggressively chase after the feeling he appears to still be releasing inside of you.

And then, emptiness. You are left empty and dripping, fingers still chasing your release before–

“What the fu–” You moan, squeezing your eyes shut at the feeling of his tongue instantly back on you. As if he’s looping back to the beginning of it all, uncaring of tasting himself solely because through it all, he can still taste you. “Jake, Fuck–yes, right there.” You continue to groan when he replaces his tongue against your hole with his fingers, fucking into you as quickly as he can before nudging your fingers away and taking over the chase of your orgasm. 

You’re entirely amazed by how eager he is to pull it from you, and that alone is enough. The desperate ways in which he decided to pleasure you right in this moment, it’s enough.

Your hands instantly reach for his hair, gripping so tightly that you can hear the pained sound he lets out at the sheer force behind it. You very nearly rub his nose in the mess he’s made of you out of the sheer arousal you feel through your orgasm. 

You’re seeing white, feeling his fingers expertly work you open and somehow don’t feel disappointed at all that you didn’t get there before he pulled out of you. You can still feel him dripping out, fingers squelching and sliding through the mixture of both orgasms inside of you. And his tongue, good lord his fucking tongue, licking up every bit and eagerly flicking your clit at a pace much faster than he offered before.

And now, you find your legs nearly kicking him across the room. As soon as the orgasm subsides, your body goes into overdrive with the overwhelming sensitivity between your legs and all he can do is laugh at the way you practically do kick him.

Right off the bed, actually, he tumbles. 

You lay there, staring into space as you attempt to bring yourself back to reality when you see his messy hair and glistening eyes peek from the edge of your bed at you. His shoulders huffing with each deep breath he takes. 

“Jesus fucking christ.” You manage to gasp out, spread eagle and almost completely naked on your bed save for the forgotten shirt that’s still pushed up to your collarbone. 

He makes his way back up to you, pressing your legs together, lowering your shirt, and planting his heavy dead-weight right on top of you. 

A solid ten minutes pass as the two of you lay there in the mess you’ve both created. Heavy breaths turn to easy, balanced breaths together. You can barely hold your eyes open when he finally rolls off of you and right up against your side. 

“Can I ask you something?” He mutters, throat dry and stomach growling embarrassingly loud. 

“Hm?” You hum out, entirely ready to just sleep in the mess.

“Are you always like that?” He questions, a little hint of doubt breaking his confidence. “Like, did Sunghoon see you act like that too?” 

You crack your eyes open and instantly turn to face him. 

“You’re insane if you think Sunghoon is that good. I’ve never used the word ‘please’ in my life.”

Jake glances away, thinking to himself and letting those words sink in.

“Well,” He starts, pausing and feeling that little pit in his stomach return. “That’s a lie because I’ve heard you use your manners at least twice in the years I’ve known you.” 

You smile, loving that the two of you can still be somewhat catty and playful even after the fact that you just realized how insanely in love with him you are. 

“Jake, no one has ever made me act like this in bed.” You try to reassure him. “I don’t think anyone else could, besides you.”

He smiles with a nod, running his hands down your body before pausing at the half dried cum that managed to make its way up to your stomach. And then? He groans. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s insane really, that all it took for you to fall in love with the person you think you were always meant to love was him admitting it. Even more insane that he decided to take the route that involved faux playful head, with no feelings attached despite his feelings being deeply fucking attached. 

Still, the route taken to get to this point, he thinks, is fitting for the two of you. Especially now that he can look at Sunghoon without wanting to strangle him, and he can look at you knowing you’d very much invite him to strangle you, you know, considering the fact that you’re now trying to explore every sexual realm in the fucking universe with him.

Even with the desperate need to have you under him any chance he gets, and the fucking, and the arousal, none of it shines brighter than the small intimate moments he has with you that aren’t weighed down by pining or lust. 

As playful as the two of you are together, there is so much love here. So much love to still be discovered too, and he can’t help but feel excited by it. 

Romance isn’t dead, despite how the two of you tried to fucking butcher it.