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[istherewifiinhell]

First reprimand for shitty customer service <3. Well first one that wasnt just just my boss laughing and saying a local famous person accused me of stealing their wallet [left it on a shelf].

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 !! ❞

❝ WHEN YOUR CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND OFFERS TO TEACH YOU HOW TO LOVE, HOW CAN YOU SAY NO ?? ❞

✧ pairing: college student!yuji itadori x f!reader

✧ summary: yuji itadori has been your best friend since you were kids, and when he offers you to teach you how to fuck, you don't expect him to be able to find his way into your heart too.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, aged up characters (don't like? don't read), childhood best friends to fwb to lovers, college au! (no curses), reader is the same age as yuji (both 20s), grew up as neighbors, mutual pining, nobara playing cupid, jealous!yuji, yuji is so golden retriever bf, nightmares, mentions of parental death via car crash (yuji), adoptive dad nanamin :), nipple play, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), semi public sex (under a blanket with sleeping friends nearby), sex (p in v), creampie, swearing, fanart by unknown artist (found on pinterest, pls let me know if you know the og artist so i can credit)

✧ wc: 13,544

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 5 has been sold to two anons!

“You want me to teach you?” 

The words left your best friend’s lips nonchalantly as if he was asking you if you wanted him to teach you how to ride a bike. 

But that’s not what he was offering to have you ride—

“Yuji,” you say slowly, “what are you saying? Do you even know what you’re saying?” 

Yuji Itadori was dense, but you knew he was far from stupid. You learned that in third grade when he punched a bully that had been picking on you, the final straw being when he had tripped you, causing you to skin your knee. Before you could even well any tears up in your eyes, you heard a thwack and a yelp as Yuji had laid the boy out on the playground. You stared at Yuji, as he offered you his other hand to help you to your feet, as your eyes slid from him to your bully. 

Yuji knelt down, carrying you on his back to the nurse’s office, “but Yuji, what about him? We left him—“ 

And he set you down outside the nurse’s office — and he only smiled that wide smile he had always reserved for you, “Don’t worry — I made sure no one was looking.” 

But now, you were beginning to doubt his sanity, rather than his intelligence — “I know what I’m saying,” he chuckles, trademark smile on his lips, “I’m just offering you the chance to practice,” 

“This isn’t practicing a sport or test—you’re offering,” you shift on your bed, while Yuji lounges on the floor, back against the bottom of your bed, “you’re offering to sleep with me, Yuji,” he leans his head on your bed, looking up at you at way, your face upside in his vision. 

“I know, I know, but it’s not a big deal is it?” he’s acting so nonchalant you wonder if one of his teammates had hit him hard in the head during practice, “we’ve had all our firsts together,” 

You scoff, “That was like our first steps, first day of school, first drink—“ 

“First kiss—“ he interrupts, and your face burns at the memory — a preadolescent game gone wrong that ended up with you and Yuji sharing your first kiss when you were teens. 

“That wasn’t real,” you wave him off, crossing your arms, “and this isn’t just a kiss for a game—this could change our friendship—“ 

“It won’t, if we don’t let it,” his gaze is more serious than you’ve ever seen Yuji be — not when he was usually all wide smiles and enthusiasm, “it’s us, we can get through it, and we don’t have to let it get weird right?” 

You chew on your lip, “Yuji, what do you get out of it?” And he’s tilting his head at your question— “I mean you don’t have to do this — just because I’m insecure because I don’t have experience,” you mumble. 

And that’s how the conversation had started — your complaints about your friends talking about their boyfriends, exes, and hookups, while you just nodded along — far too aware that you hadn’t even had a proper kiss, much less sex. And now you had found yourself here. 

“Look,” he slides up to sit on your bed, a good distance away from you, his eyes finding yours — warm hazel that felt as if it was drizzling over your skin wherever his gaze traveled, “I want your first time to be safe. I don’t want you to just hook up with someone and something bad to happen because you can’t say no — with me,” he clenched his hand into a fist holding his other hand flat as he gently hit his fist against it, “you can tell me to stop and if I somehow don’t or don’t hear you, punch me,” 

You snort, “Yuji,” he’s shaking his head. 

“I’m serious, I want you to be safe,” and you’re fidgeting with your fingers in your lap — this was Yuji, Yuji — you couldn’t say you hadn’t noticed how well he had grown up. Not when all of your friends drooled over him — especially with how liked he was — by everyone. 

“What if I lose you?” And he chuckles, as he breaches your personal space and his hand brushes yours. 

“You won’t, ever. I promise,” and your breath catches — many millions of times had Yuji touched you throughout your lives — an arm over over your shoulder, a hug, even holding your hand through crowds during festivals — but a simple brush of his fingers against yours had your heart rattling against its bony enclosure, begging for you to let it out, “what do ya think?” 

And you’re thinking — this would be the best outcome — you weren’t one to hook up with a stranger and you were burnt out on dead end dating app conversations, and to have your first time with someone close, someone you knew — it would be ideal. 

“Are you sure?” And his lips curl into a soft smile, leaning closer, as his fingers gently brush against your locks. 

“Would I be here like this if I wasn’t?” his breath warms your lips, as his fingers skim your cheek, “is this okay?” 

You nod wordlessly, unable to find the words to even reply — you had never thought of this situation would ever happen — especially like this. You lean against his hand, calloused from his practices, but as gentle as it always was. 

“We can take it as slow as you need,” he murmurs, as he’s even closer now, your eyes fluttering shut, only for his lips to graze your forehead. You pause at the featherlight touch — wondering if it actually happened when your eyes open to find his, “no need to rush, right?” He smiles, as he gets to his feet, “are we still on for tomorrow’s study session?” 

“Of course,” 

He scratches the back of his head, “Good because I still don’t understand math or why I need it, but unfortunately, I still have to pass,” he grabs his bag, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he offers a smile before he’s gone. 

And you’re left sitting on your bed, the warmth of his touch still on your skin, wondering what the fuck just even happened. 

“Yuji, you just have to solve for x,” you sigh, explaining the problem for the billionth time, as his pen waves back forth between two fingers, “it’s simple,” 

Your weekly study sessions with Yuji were a constant throughout your life, though more for Yuji than you. Yuji is very intelligent, despite his demeanor in class where it felt as if there was a perpetual question mark over his head — he just learned by seeing and then doing. And the repetition helped you all the same. But you had never felt so conscious sitting next to the boy you called your best friend. 

“Maybe to you, but I don’t why math has to involve letters,” he wrinkled his nose at the problem, sighing, as he twists the pen around his hand, and your eyes catch the movement — you didn’t know how the little boy’s whose hands you used to hold had gotten so big now — calloused from his practices, but so soft against your skin,  “is something interesting about my hands?” 

Your eyes snap up to meet his, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “No, just, uh, impressed that you can twist the pen around your hand like that,” 

“Oh, that?” he’s as unfazed as usual, leaning back a little, “that’s easy. I could show you if you want,” 

“It’s fine,” and you’re trying to focus back on the problem, when you find him still staring, “what is it?” 

“If you wanted to hold my hand, you just had to ask,” his fingers graze yours, with enough time for you to pull away, before his fingers lace with yours, “and we can do more if you want?” 

This was crazy — it was probably a mistake, but — as his touch made your heart flutter, warm rolling in waves that erupted into butterflies in your stomach — why weren’t you pulling away? 

“What does more entail?” and he inches a little closer, his breath warming your lips, “but you still haven’t gotten this problem down, are you just trying to get out of studying?” 

A chuckle on his lips, “Maybe I’m just looking for the right motivation, so how about we make a deal?” He moves over, spreading his legs apart, and pats the floor in front of you — for each question I get right, I get a kiss,”

And why you agreed to this, you really didn’t have words—but now you were sat between his legs, nearly in his lap, as he leaned forward — his chest against your back as his chin brushed your shoulder and his cheek brushed against your own, breath warming your neck — trying to get a better look at the math problem. His arm was wrapped around your side as his pen scratched against the scrap paper, trying to solve the problem. You bit your lip, trying your best not to glance at him, but you spot his wrinkled brow out of the corner of his lip and the tip of his tongue poking ever so slightly out of his mouth— and your lips curled, he still had that habit from when you were kids. 

“There, I think I solved it,” he murmurs, and you have to hold back a shiver at the words rumbled against your ear, “is it right?” 

And god, you could barely think, much less do math, but as you glance over the question and answer — he’s got it right.  

Fuck. 

“It is,” you say softly, “is all you need some motivation? Because I would have just promised I would go to see the next Human Earthworm movie,” 

He chuckles, his lips nearly against your ear, as his hand gently traces your jaw, “I’d like that, but I think i rather have what I was promised, as long as you’re still okay with that,” 

Your breath hitches, as you follow his lead, rough pads still so gentle against your cheek, as your eyes find his, but you don’t find his usual doe eyes — but instead find pools of lust threatening to drag you under. Although from the way your lips part and eyes flutter shut, perhaps he had you underwater for far longer than you even knew. 

His lips graze yours — it’s barely a kiss, a peck maybe — as he does his best to ease you in. You didn’t know lips could be so soft — meeting again and again, stealing logic from your mind and breath from your lungs. 

“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, not even a breath away from your lips. You’re nearly dizzy, mind reeling from his touch, heart jumping at his thumb rubbing lightly against your cheek. 

“I am, just a little strange to be kissing, much less you,” and his brow knits together, “but not bad at all,” you add, and he chuckles, his fingers grazing your cheek firmer, as he leans in again, “we said one kiss—“ 

“Do you really want to stop now?” he’s murmuring, and your noses bump against each other. 

Your lips find his again and now you can taste the sour candy he had stolen from you, but an overwhelming sweetness overrides it, and your hand brushes against his cheek, the other finding purchase on his chest.

“Is that okay?” You murmur, as you lips part, the two of you catching your breath, your shared pants filling the silence, your cheeks burning as your eyes avert from his, “I don’t know—“ 

“You’re fine, don’t worry about it,” a small chuckle on his lips, fingers cupping your chin to guide your gaze back to his — a subtle heat that makes your insides turn to molasses, sticky and sweet and far too warm, “just do what feels right, ok?” 

And his lips find yours again, gently as he did the first time, but more passion behind it, swallowing your quiet murmur of his name with ease. Your lips move against his just as his did — you try to push aside the thoughts of whether you were doing this right. But the slight brush of his teeth against your bottom lip makes you forget too with a gasp. 

He pulls away with a grin on his lips, “Sorry, couldn’t resist,” and his lips are kissed red, your thumb brushed against his swollen lips, “don’t tempt me more,” 

“You’re the one who started this, shouldn’t you take some responsibility, Yu?” your lips graze his cheek, curling as a rosy flush settles over his cheekbones, “nothing to say?” 

“You’re making it hard for me to hold back,” and he’s burying his face in the side of your neck, making you shiver, as he pulls you even closer, arms around your waist, “I don’t want to rush you,” 

Cute, you think before you even think, and yet the way his face is hidden away in your neck, breath warming your neck makes your body flush, and when have you ever thought of Yuji as cute? And yet you couldn’t remember a time that he made your heart race either. 

His lips press a small kiss to your neck, drawing a yelp from your lips, “Yuji—“ he’s nosing the hollow of your throat, “ah, you’re teasing me,” you whine, and he’s lifting his gaze back to yours, heavy with want, a want that leaves you bereft of any semblance of sense. 

“You started it,” he murmurs, before he finds your lips in another kiss — this time it’s a slow heat, languid as it threatens to burn both of you alive, flames licking at the edges of your reason. And his phone goes off — a reminder for practice that he groans at, “I should go. I have to go run laps,” 

“Now?” And he’s slowly disentangling himself from you, the absence of his touch lingers, the heat ebbing, “don’t you usually practice in the mornings?” You get to your feet slowly as well, handing him his math notebook, and it occurs to you when you spot the puddles outside, “it was too wet,” 

And he nods, scratching the back of his head, as the two of you walk out into your apartment’s living space, “and I forgot my protein shake—“ you head over to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door and pulling out his shake, and he blinks, “how—“ 

“You did the same thing last week, so I just bought a pack for you,” and his lips curl as he walks over and takes the bottle from your hand, fingers brushing — and even that much alight a flutter of nerves through your body. 

“Thanks,” he grins, and you nod. 

“Of course, I thought it just made sense since you come here every week—” you turn to shut the refrigerator, before turning back, only to find him stepping a bit closer, “Yu—“ 

“I almost forgot, one more lesson,” and he’s leaning close, and your breath catches in your throat, as his lips brush yours, fingers tracing the swell of your cheek, “a kiss goodbye,” and he parts, a brush of his fingers against yours, “I’ll text you later,” and he’s gone in a flash. 

Your left, fingertips touching your lips, a questioning lingering as he left — whether these feelings blooming in your chest were just from the kiss, or something more. 

But you glance at your phone — a text from Yuji: 

Golden Retriever Bestie: thanks for the drink again :)

You lock the screen — but you couldn’t hope for more, right? Not when this was started with the intention of stopping. But why—as you laid back into bed, staring up at your ceiling in the same room the two of you had spent the last two years watching movies or studying in, eyes squeezing shut—

Why did you still want more? 

When did Yuji Itadori fall in love with you? It would probably be easier for him to list the moments he hadn’t fallen for you — but the earliest he can remember was when he had hurt himself climbing a tree in the schoolyard, falling from the branch he had made it to. You had been watching him the whole time, telling him to come down, and when he fell, you were at his side. His vision was a little blurry but when it cleared, he saw you knelt above him, big tears leaving your eyes. And when he came to, you hugged him tight, before helping him to the nurse’s. You had even insisted on bandaging his cuts, not letting the nurse do so. 

And that’s when he knew — he knew he always wanted to wake to you beside him. 

“You what?” Nobara scoffed at him, as she held up another of her new purchases in front of her while looking in her full length mirror, “so instead of asking her out and confession this pathetic crush—“ 

“Pathetic is kinda harsh, Kugisaki—“ 

“It’s been over a decade — your one sided feelings is now in secondary school — it’s officially pathetic,” she hangs up the new leather jacket she bought in her closet, before turning to Yuji, “so instead of confessing, you asked her to be your friends with benefits—“ 

“That’s not exactly—“ she cuts him off with a look, “ok that’s kind of what I did,” he shakes his head, “she was venting about how she never had her first kiss and words started coming out of my mouth and wouldn’t stop—“ 

“Not the first time that’s happened to you is it?” And Yuji glares at her through the mirror, “what? You came to me instead of Fushiguro because you wanted a pretty girl’s opinion right?” 

“I said girl, nothing about—“ it was her turn to glare at him, “alright, alright — what do I do now? I want to tell her I like her, but if I do, I might seem like a—“ 

“A creep? A weirdo? A pervert?” 

“I was gonna say liar, but those too,” he rubbed a hand down his face, “what do I do?” 

She sighs, tucking a strand of her dyed hair behind her ear, “the only thing to do in situation like this,” 

“Tell the truth?” And she scoffs. 

“No, of course not, just use this time to make her fall for you, but that means you’ll have to use this agreement to your advantage,” she hums, “she said she wanted more experience right?” And Yuji nods, “who says it has to just be making out and sex?” 

“You want to go on a date? Fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you turn the heat of your burner down, hoping you hadn’t completely burned your omelet now as you flipped it, “I thought this was just supposed to be for the more…physical sides of things,” your cheeks burned. 

God, what the fuck. 

“I mean part of gaining experience is learning how to date, right?” And you’re placing your slightly burned omelet in the plate, as you wipe your hands off with your dishcloth, “we could go to an arcade, maybe catch a movie,” 

“Human Earthworm 4?” And you hear him chuckle over the line, and the sound makes your lips curl — it always felt like an accomplishment making him laugh, but even more so now.  

“We don’t have to—“ 

“I don’t mind,” you cut him off, and you never did — you just loved to tease him, as you always did, “they’ve grown on me,” and you didn’t know there was more room for Yuji to grow on you, you thought his roots had already went far and deep, tangled around every inch of yourself and your mind, even your heart — but now—

“Does 2 PM work? I’ll come by and pick you up from your place,” and you didn’t know where it would go but— 

“Sounds perfect,”  he had found his way into a place you never thought anyone would find themselves in. — and as he hung up, biting your bottom lip—

And it seemed he was here to stay. 

“You’re such a cheater,” you glared at Yuji as he won for the tenth time at the boxing game — hitting the max score every time, “tell me what the trick is,” 

“You know I’m strong,” Yuji gapes,  holding his arm, “how would I cheat?” And you’re pouting, crossing your arms. 

“You’re cheating by being you,” and Yuji has to bite back his smile — you were being so cute — but he knows saying that will earn him a punch in the shoulder harder than you gave the punching bag on the machine, “now you have to buy me an ice cream,” 

“For?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“For being a cheater,” and he can’t help the chuckle that leaves his lips that earns him a bunch of slaps to his arm, before he’s wrapping that same arm around your waist, your complaints chased away by a gasp, “what—“ 

“I was going to buy you anything you wanted anyway, it is a date after all,” he smiles, and you stammer, but you don’t pull away, “what flavor do you want?” After you tell him, he goes off to the concession to buy you both some ice cream, and when he finds you at a table, he sees you’re not alone. His lips are a tight line, as he finds a guy leaning against the booth you sat in, clearly flirting with you, your back to Yuji so he can’t see your face. 

He finds his way back to you, his hand brushes your shoulder gently, “is everything okay?” He asks you, meeting your gaze without regard for the stranger — and he’s glad he did, because he spots your pursed lips and darting eyes that told him everything he needed to know, “you need something?” He asks the guy, a friendly smile on his lips. 

“Not from you,” the guy scoffs, “I was talking to—“ 

“Well, you’re talking to me now, not my date, so—“ and you’re leaning into Yuji, “you need something or not?” And the guy grumbles something under his breath before slinking away, and Yuji’s sliding in beside you when you move over, “you okay?” 

“Yeah, he wouldn’t leave,” you sigh, shaking your head, “sorry—“ 

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he murmurs, as he hands you your ice cream, “as long as you’re okay,” his arm slides around your shoulder and squeezes you, “i would’ve punched him if it wouldn’t have ruined our date,” 

You snort, as you lick your ice cream, “if you punched him harder than you did the bag, don’t know if this date would have ended with us going home,” and he pouts, as he laps at his ice cream, and he feels you turn to look at him, “Didn’t know you were the jealous type, Yu,” and he chuckles, he wanted to say — only when it came to you. 

But he knew that he couldn’t. Not like this.  

“I didn’t think I was either.” 

“Nope, not gonna admit it,” and Yuji’s grinning still, as the two of you walk out of the theater, his arm still around your shoulder, “no it wasn’t that good,” 

If there was one thing about Yuji is that movies were literally his obsession — one movie marathon when the two of you were teens had turned him into a fanatic. And he often ended up dragging you to all of them he saw in theaters — and you probably had watched the Human Earthworm movies the most amount of times anyone ever has — aside from Yuji. Well, more like you watched him watch it, because while he was smiling and laughing (or crying) at the movie, you were looking at him. 

And right now, he looked far too smug, “So you admit that it was good,” and you cross your arms, shaking your head, “I saw you tearing up at the end — I told you, it’s all about love!” 

You purse your lips, if only to hold back your smile, before sighing, “How would no one tear up at that ending?” And his hand’s grabbing yours, tugging at your arm, as the two of you walk along, “Yu—“ 

“I knew you liked it! C’mon, I knew you would, now what was your favorite part?” And your lips curl into a smile, “what?” 

That was one of the things you loved the most about Yuji, how excited he could get — how he loved everything so wholeheartedly with no reservations, and you knew he was the one person you could always count on to cheer you up. 

“Nothing, nothing,” you chuckle, letting your fingers lace with his, “my favorite part?” And you want to say — watching him enjoy the movie. 

But you can’t. 

“Probably the ending,” you slowly smile, “liked it when the credits rolled,” and he’s mock glaring, as you laugh before his arm tightening around your waist, “Yu-ji—“ 

“Not going to be honest?” He murmurs, before kissing your chin, “then maybe I’ll make you.” 

“Yu—ngh, please,” Yuji could get addicted to your taste, it was never enough, was it? His lips had spent the last twenty minutes kissing every inch of your face and neck, traversing over every nook and cranny as he always wanted to — and yet it was never enough. Any time spent with you was never enough —because you always made anything better, and nothing ever worse. 

And he knew no one else would ever feel this good. 

How many times had he imagined just this scenario? Of you in his bedroom with him alone, as you had been many times before, but never like this. You never looked at him like that before — with that shyness mixed with an undercurrent of want. And it was enough to rip him away and drag him under with you. 

“Please what, baby?” Yuji looks up with a wry smile and soft eyes that burn a path where as it raked down your body like coals across a fire, “want me to stop?” And he’s dragging a thumb down your untouched lips. 

You cover your face with the back of your hand, and he’s gently tugging it away, pressing a kiss to your wrist, your pulse jumping underneath, “I want more,” and fuck if he wasn’t at full mast from the kissing, he was now at your words, “I want you to…kiss me and…touch me,” you mumble, eyes averted, but he’s smiling all the same — you were so cute. 

“Where can I touch?” he asks softly, his nose brushing yours, “need you to tell me. I don’t want to rush—“ 

And your lips crash against his, your fingers finding the back of his neck, threading in his pink locks. He’s pausing a moment before he melts into your kiss, and you’re taking the lead, as you lean further into the kiss, your fingers sliding down from his shoulder to his chest. His tongue flicks against the seam of your lips and you part for him. 

“I want you to touch me,” you murmur as you break the kiss, panting, strings of your spit still connecting your lips, your breathy words nearly enough for him to lose all control, “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it,” 

And he’s more than happy to oblige, his lips find yours in a bruising kiss, his hand toys with the hem of your shirt as permission, and you part from the kiss to nod. His hand slides up your soft flesh, pushing up your shirt along with it — finding your lacy bra underneath. He’s tugging the shirt up and over your head with your help, and god—

He has to stop himself from cumming right then and there at the sight of you. His fingers reach out, toying with the strap of your bra, “Did you wear this for me?” And you biting your bottom lip was all the answer he needed. 

“Yu—“ he’s tweaking your hardened bud through the fabric, “ah, fuck—“ and he leans down to suck the other side through your bra, while sliding down your bra strap. 

“Need to taste you,” and you’re nodding, while he’s reaching around to brush against the clasp of your bra to undo it, and his cock twitches at the sight of your bare skin — you’re so fucking pretty. 

He always thought you were pretty — when you were kids drenched from running around in the rain, when you were just waking up from a nap with your hair askew and dried drool in the corner of your mouth, when your eyes were wide with excitement and nearly jumping up and down to tell him good news; and when you’re smiling—especially when you’re smiling. 

It was his favorite thing. 

“Don’t stare so much,” you’re trying cover yourself, but his hands catch yours, easing them off, “It’s embarrassing—“ 

“You’re perfect,” and your lips part but no words come, but you can’t meet his gaze, “you are—“ 

“You’re just saying that—“ and his fingers pinch your nipple drawing a gasp from your lips, while he leans down and takes the other in his mouth. His eyes find yours, blown into deep, dark pools by his lust — ones you’d be more than willing to drown in. 

“I’d never just say that, especially to you, baby,” and you’re about to make a smart remark about him calling you ‘baby.’ But you forget every word you ever learned when his fingers start to drag down your stomach, fingers playing with the button of your jeans, “can I?” 

And you nod, your back arching ever so slightly as his lips press a sweet kiss to your bellybutton. He’s kissing down your soft legs as he tugs down your jeans — one to your thigh, another to your knee, and another to your ankle —before he’s kissing up the other. 

“How’s that feel?” he murmurs, eyes flitting up to meet yours, and fuck, your lips parted and swollen a pretty red, eyes half lidded with want, and — as his eyes fall between your thighs — a growing wet spot on your panties. 

His fingers toy with the elastic, snapping it lightly against your skin, a slight flinch only, as his eyes gaze at your clothed cunt with near reverence. He looks for permission, before he leans in to press a kiss to your swollen clit, a small yelp escaping your mouth. 

“Yuji,” you whine, lifting your head to meet his gaze again, “please,” 

“Say my name again, please,” he’s kissing your thigh gently, and it feels as if you’ll crumble under his touch any second, wither away in a figment of his imagination, and he won’t ever get the chance to hear you like this again, much less touch you. He was selfish to take advantage like this — and he knew he was — but he couldn’t leave it like this.

“Yuji, just touch me—“ and your head falls back as his fingers graze your clit through your nearly translucent underwear, “ngh, you fucker—“ and he’s chuckling, as he tugs your panties away. 

“Wanted to keep them on since you looked so good, but,” and he’s pocketing them with a grin, “I’ll just keep them instead,” your dripping walls twitch at the thought, “s’good for me. What do you want, my fingers or my tongue?” 

“Fuck, I don’t know, just touch—“ and your head lolls against the pillow as his tongue drags up flat up the length of your weeping pussy. 

“You’re so sweet — I could live here,” he murmurs, as his fingers spread your slick folds, a pretty moan falling from your lips as he does, “can’t wait to feel you cum around my fingers,” he’s easing a finger in — and you’re so tight, you’re tensing as he tries to part your walls, “relax, ok? I’ll be gentle. Don’t worry. I won’t ever hurt you,” his eyes meet yours and you’re nodding, as he pulls his finger away, a shiver at the empty ache, but it falls away into another moan as his tongue replaces it. 

The wet squelch of your folds is enough for him to cum right there — you smell as sweet as you taste, as he kisses your clit, before dragging the length of his tongue over your sopping slit again, “Yuji—fuck—“ your fingers find purchase in his pink locks right when he decides to sink a finger inside you again. 

“That’s it,” he grunts, as he works his finger knuckle deep into you, “so good f’me, so tight,” he’s murmuring, and your syrupy walls wrapped around his finger makes him wonder how good it will feel when his cock is inside you. He’s palming his erection through his pants, desperate for any kind of fucking friction, “g’nna add another,” 

And you’re nodding, “please, I—“ and a second finger joins the first, and the lewd noises grow louder from your slick and his fingers begin to pump faster — teasing and stretching your walls as they begin to flutter around you, “Yuji, Yuji—“ his name leaves your lips like a prayer, but he’s the one who would worship at your feet, if you’d let him, your moans and whimpers were all he needed to survive, and he’d give his very soul if it meant he could be at your side. 

His fingers are fucking you open, the tips of his fingers brushing against the spot that his your mouth falling open in a silent moan, “that’s it, cum for me, pretty girl,” and pleasure rips up your spine, as you cum all over his fingers, thighs shaking as you do. He fucks you slowly through your orgasm, helping you ride it out, until he’s slowing, leaning up to prsss sweet kisses to your face. 

“I’m going to pull them out slowly,” he murmurs, your eyes still fluttered shut, but they slowly open to watch him ease his fingers from you. Soft pants leave your lips as you watch him with lidded eyes lick his fingers sticky with your release clean. 

“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, as he moves up to lean over your face, and you’re nodding, “let me clean you up and we can sleep, ok?” he’s moving to get off the bed, but you grab his hand, and he tilts his head. 

“What about you?” You mumble, frowning, eyes flickering to the tent in his pants with a shy gaze, “I want to—“ 

“It’s okay, let’s just take it easy today,” he’s smiling, fingers finding yours and squeezing, pressing his lips to your knuckles, “you look like you’re about to pass out,” and you’re pouting all the same, but you seem to relent as the exhaustion sets in once again at your words, “I’ll be right back,” and he retreats to his bathroom to wet a washcloth, only to come back to you fast asleep. 

He chuckles at the sight of you sprawled out on his bed — a sight not uncommon to him on nights you spent over, but never like this before. He leans on the bed carefully, mattress creaking ever so slightly under his weight, as he begins to clean you gently — and luckily, you don’t wake by the time he’s done. He can’t put your jeans or underwear on so he opts to grab a pair of his freshly washed shorts and slides them on you. He adjusts the blanket, draping it over you, running his fingers through your hair to tuck it behind your ear, and the back of his knuckles over your cheek. 

“Yuji,” you mumble in your sleep, and he bites his lip — as he returns to his bathroom, softly shutting the bedroom door and the bathroom door behind him, a glaring problem to deal with, as he is still nearly waddling at this point from the grazing of his boxers against his aching erection. 

He undoes his jeans quickly, eyes fluttering as he pushes both down and strips his shirt off before slipping into the shower. The squeak of the shower faucet and the water running hopefully don’t wake you — but more importantly, he hopes his moans don’t.  

His dick was rock hard and aching still — there were so many times he nearly came in his pants, and by how drenched his boxers were — maybe he had. But fuck, you were so gorgeous, laid back and spread out for him. 

His fingers grazed his weeping cock, smearing the precum up and down his length, thumb tracing his slit, as you would. He could see you thumbing his head experimentally, as your eyes flickered up at him, doe eyes, yet glazed over with lust. It wouldn’t be long until you’re slowly pumping him, as he does now — from base to tip, teasing his balls all the same. You’d flick your tongue over the tip, sucking at the dripping precum — wrinkle your nose at the salty taste, but you’d suck at his tip all the same. 

He’d look down at you as your hand switches to toying with his balls, as you let his cock slap against your tongue, before letting his length slip past your lips. Your lips would feel so much softer than his hand does right now, jerking himself off, your plush lips and tongue wrapped around his dick. A low groan escapes his lips, as he covers his mouth, hoping you couldn’t hear him over the running water. The squelch of his precum and his soft moans would only make him want to repay the favor, making you cum over and over, until you were begging him to stop. 

Fuck, he was close, by the way his cock twitched in his hand — where would he cum with you? He’d cum anywhere you wanted — but to cum on your face or chest, the image made him shudder. Your tongue would flick out to clean up some of the cum, and—

Fuck, he moans your name, as he cums all over his fingers, his release sprayed against the tile of his shower, dripping down and mixing with the water. He’s panting, as he cleans his hand off in the shower, leaning his head back. 

What has he gotten himself into? Was it right for him to do this? You didn’t know how he felt — and he didn’t know if you would ever feel the same. But as he got dressed and crawled into bed beside you, keeping his distance as you slept, he felt you move closer, mumbling his name as you did. He couldn’t help but softly smile, running his fingers through his hair—it didn’t matter if you never ended up loving him, as long as you knew what you deserved—to be with someone who loved you, as much or even more than he did. 

He let himself drift off, a loose arm thrown over your middle—he’d let himself have this, if only for now. 

“Oh come on, you couldn’t get the ad free version, Fushiguro?” Nobara complains as yet another commercial comes on, as she glares at the black haired vet student, who sat on the floor after she stole his armchair. 

He only shrugs, bearing little to no reaction, “If you’re going to complain, then why don’t you pay for it?” 

Nobara and him begin to bicker ever so slightly, and Yuji chuckles in your ear, “are they more fun to watch then the show?” 

The four of you were at your apartment, watching a new season of a TV show you all had started last year. You were sat next to Yuji on the couch, your bodies nearly pressed against each other as you shared the blanket, a little cold from the rain outside. 

“They’re always more entertaining than the show, that’s why we agree to this,” you whisper back, the proximity of your bodies making your cheeks burn. You turn away, hoping he can’t feel or even hear the way your heart was beating down your ribs to burst free. Every time he shifted even slightly, you felt your body react — so conscious of even a twitch of his fingers — you wanted to bury yourself under the blanket. 

It had been like this since that night. 

You had woken up to him asleep beside you. Your eyes fluttered open as consciousness slowly crept into focus, sunlight filtering into sight, a small groan leaving your lips. And it wasn’t until you tried to reach for your phone you realized the thing beside you wasn’t a pillow but a person.  

Your eyes flew open and you found Yuji still sound asleep beside you. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to sleep on the same bed — especially after a late night where one or the other didn’t want to go home — but it was different to wake up entangled with him, especially after the events of the night before came flooding back. 

And after that, each time you had been around him, you had become more and more conscious of his touch, nervous even, at the simplest of brushes of his fingers. And this? His body pressed against yours, his fingers grazing your thigh nearly, and his soft breath against your ear — god, you were going to lose it. 

“You ok?” he murmurs a half an hour later, and the question itself makes you squirm — because no, your hot best friend was pressed against you and making you want to do nothing more than kiss him— 

Wait, wait, hot? Your mind stutters at your own thoughts, lagging to comprehend yourself — hot? You wanted to kiss him? You always knew Yuji was hot, he was objectively — especially based on how many of your friends had wanted you to hook them up with him — but you had never thought of him that way. Maybe in passing — but to you, that was the one line you could never cross, especially when you had seen so many friendships fall apart because of a relationship. 

You never wanted to risk Yuji like that. 

But then here you were — blurring that line you said you never cross — and letting the ground split underneath the two of you. 

“I’m fine,” you mumble back — and yet here he was, seemingly unfazed by your proximity and as the minutes ticked by, it began to eat away at you. Did he not find it as meaningful as you did? Did he not feel as good as you? Do you need to touch him just to make him feel just as heartsick as you were? 

And now you know what you wanted to do. 

As the show went on, Nobara and Fushiguro fell asleep — Fushiguro asleep with a cushion he had stolen from Nobara’s armchair and Nobara curled up in said armchair, passed out. 

“Should we stop the show and go to bed?” Yuji asks you, albeit innocently — but there was anything but innocent intentions in your mind when you shake your head, a smile on your lips. 

“Let’s keep watching,” your fingers grazes his thigh, as you lean over, lips nearly brushing against his ear, “it’s just getting interesting, right?” 

And his breath hitches, “what’re you—“ and your fingers inches higher, grazing over his already tenting erection, a hiss escapes his lips, as he’s covering his mouth. 

“Shh, don’t wake them,” and your fingers are ghosting and teasing over his cock, the precum already starting to seep through the fabric, as he shifts under your touch. Your thumb flicks over his head, now fully hard, “so big already,” you mumble, and now your lips press sweet kisses to his neck, finding small cuts and bruises from his practices, and a gasp escaped his lips. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this—“ and your lips find his, and he melts so easily into your touch, your fingers toy with the elastic of his shorts, his eyes flickering to the two sleeping. He’s pulling away for a breath, lips utterly ruined — his fingers running through his hair, “please—“ and your lips curl. 

Your fingers finally brush against his leaking cock, and his head falls back, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink, lips parted as soft pants left his lips. And you’re nearly shivering yourself at his want — seeping into your own body, as his pants and moans send a wave of heat between your thighs. 

You rub your thighs together, as you shift even closer somehow, “Gotta be quiet Yu — they can hear us after all,” you murmur, right as your thumb swipes over his slit, a yelp caught in his throat, as his hand flies back to lips, “good boy,” and his dick twitches at the praise, as your finger begins to trace along his veins, “so big, how am I going to fit you inside?” you murmur, biting back a smirk when a muffled groan reaches your ears. 

Your fingers finally curl around his length, you never thought a cock to be pretty — but Yuji’s was. You stared at it under the covers, flushed a lovely red, too dripping pearly beads of precum, and the slight curve it had to it — made the ache in your cunt only grow. 

“Please, baby, I need, please—“ he’s whining, “I need you—“ 

And you oblige him, your hand beginning to spread the pre along his length, beginning to stroke him slowly from base to tip. He’s biting his lip, hard, nearly drawing blood as he chooses to bury his face in the crook of your neck, if only to muffle any moans that fell from his lips. 

“S’good for me, Yu, wanna make you feel as good as I did,” his moan vibrates against your skin, cock twitching in your fingers, “gonna move faster, don’t want our friends to see you like this, do you? You have to be quiet,” and god, why did only seem to get harder at your words? 

Your fingers begin to jerk him off in earnest, the wet squelch of his cock nearly not hidden enough by the volume of the TV, but nearly don’t care at this point — you just want him to fall apart under your touch, need him to. 

And oh, he’s so close. His groans are more frequent, his hips jerking against your fist, and when your other hand finds his balls, squeezing — it’s too much. 

He moans softly, “I’m—“ and that’s all he manages before he spills on your fingers — warm, white spurts splatter against your palm and the blanket, dripping, as he falls back, limp against the sofa. His cock softened in your hand, as you pull it away, before gently wiping him clean with the already drenched blanket. 

He’s panting and fucked out, eyes half lidded as his chest rises and falls, watching you lick your fingers clear of his release, gaze never leaving his. 

“Didn’t know you’d taste this good—“ you barely can manage, before he’s leaning forward to kiss you. Your fingers slide against his cheek to cup it, feeling his hand tangle itself in your hair, “Yuji—“ 

“What was that about?” he murmurs, “not that I’m complaining but—“ but then Megumi starts to move and you both freeze, your breath catching, until Megumi seemingly falls back asleep, “we should head to bed, but—“ 

He looks at the blanket, and the mess you made of him and the couch alike. 

“The blanket I’ll toss in the washer, the cushion I’ll clean up and just turn over—“ and you smile, “and you take a shower before bed,” 

His brow still knits together, “but we haven’t—“ 

“We’ll talk later,” and when later came, Yuji found you fast asleep in bed, with more questions than answers. But he supposed, as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his answers could come later. 

How long has it been? 

You stared at your phone — as if you could will it to receive the message you’ve been waiting for. As if it would grant your one and only wish for a text or a call — but it didn’t. Instead, it only gave you a spam call and a text to let you know you had a discount code for your favorite takeout place. 

Great. 

It had been a week since you had heard from Yuji — and a week since that night. You had woken up to the other three gone — gone off to their own apartments after you had slept in and texts on your phone from them in the groupchat. It was a few days before break — before you and Yuji would be heading back home for a few days together. But you hadn’t seen him at all since — not a chance to talk, much less seeing him. 

Was he upset? Was he done with this? Was his promise to stay empty in the end? Was it your fault — for pushing it, for agreeing to it, and for falling for it all the same? Falling for it or — your eyes trace the screen of your phone as if it’s his cheek — or falling for him. 

No, you rake your fingers through your hair, no, you didn’t love him — not like that. Not the way you shouldn’t, the way you had sworn yourself never to — but maybe all promises between friends were empty, when they were made like this. 

But you weren’t made to let this break apart. 

You found yourself at his door after classes, knocking at his door of his apartment. The door opens, and you find Yuji rubbing his eyes, hair askew, and shoulders drooped. 

“Hey,” he yawned, he’s still shaking off the shackles of sleep, “sorry, what’s up?” 

“Are you okay?” Your furrow your brow, your eyes spot the dark bags under his eyes, large enough to nearly engulf his eyes all together, “you look like you haven’t slept in days,” he steps aside to let you in, you glance around, his apartment wasn’t usually the cleanest — but it wasn’t a wreck like it was now. Clothes scattered, unwashed dishes stacked up, and papers strewn about. 

“I just haven’t…been sleeping—“ and then you remember. 

It wasn’t about you. It was about him. And you were so wrapped up in yourself, you weren’t thinking about him. 

“Yuji, you’re having those nightmares again, aren’t you?” You murmur softly, and the way his gaze falls to the ground tells you everything you need to know, “alright, go lay down,” 

“What?” he’s blinking, but your hand already finds his as you take him to his bedroom, “what are you—“ 

“You lay down. I’m going to make you dinner, and then you’re going to sleep,” and he sits on the bed reluctantly, fingers against his knees, as he bit his lip. 

“I can’t sleep, I told you—“ you cup his cheek, and guide his gaze to yours. 

“Remember what we’d do when you couldn’t sleep after the accident?” 

“This feels ridiculous,” Yuji murmurs into your chest, his head buried there, while your fingers run softly through his pink locks, “we’re not six anymore—“ 

“So what? Doesn’t mean we can’t do this still,” you say, as your fingers pause, “unless you don’t want me to,” 

“I didn’t say that,” he mumbles, and you can hear the blush in his voice that undoubtedly painted his cheeks, “I just meant it feels like I’m bothering—“ 

“Yu, don’t make me pinch you,” you murmur, rubbing his head, “you’re never a bother,” you kiss his head softly without thinking, and soon your cheeks are burning too, “sorry I didn’t—“ 

“Why are you sorry?” He chuckles, “we’ve done a lot more than kiss recently,” and he adds, “especially you,” 

You bite your lip, glad he couldn’t see your face like this, “I thought that’s why you weren’t talking to me, I thought you didn’t like what I did…on the couch, you know—“ 

“I know,” he chuckles this time, “and how could I not like that?” And you swallow the lump in your throat, as the two of you fall into a comfortable silence that you choose to breach. 

“You haven’t had these nightmares in a while,” you murmur quietly, before you add, “we don’t have to talk—“ 

“I know, but it happens from time to time, especially this month,” and your brow furrows, “don’t wrinkle your forehead at me,” and you lean back to gape at him, a smile pulling at his lips, “you always do that when you find out I’m keeping something from you,” 

He moves ever so slightly away, turning to look at the ceiling, “Well I think I have a right because this is a pretty big thing to keep from me, Yu,” you pout, and your fingers begin to absentmindedly trace his jaw, his eyes fluttering shut — you always treated him so gently, like that something that could shatter, but he knew you would always be there to put him back together. Because you did that once already. Over a decade ago, “why didn’t you tell me?” 

Because he didn’t want to worry you. Because he didn’t want you to think of him still as that broken kid you watched after when he had his world fall apart. 

Because he didn’t want you to take that burden — he wanted to handle it himself. 

“I didn’t want to bother you—“ 

“It’s never a bother when it’s you,” and his voice catches in his throat — fuck, how did you always know just what to say? 

He takes a breath, “it’s just the same dream. Of the crash,” he could see something so clearly that he never experienced. He was at home with you when the crash happened — a play date Yuji had insisted on when he had cried and begged his parents to stay with you instead of going to dinner with them. They had relented — and that was the thing that left him alone. 

It was lucky that his grandfather was able to take him in, and stay close by — so he still got to go to school with you. 

“Let’s try to sleep, ok?” You murmur, “you’ll feel better when you sleep,” you cup his cheek, and he’s biting his lip, “what is it?” 

“What if I see it again?” He whispers, as if he’s afraid that his words were any louder he would speak it into existence. 

“Come here,” you say softly, your fingers gently guide his head to face you,  “I’ll keep you safe, I promise,” A sigh leaves his lips as he moves closer, letting you engulf him in your arms, his eyes shutting, and letting himself relax for a moment — the first moment in far too many days. 

When he let himself slip into sleep’s embrace—it was the first night he didn’t dream of the crash — he dreamt of you.  

And when he woke in your arms in the morning, your soft lips parted as you slept, sunlight dappled on your skin through his window, and the way your fingers held onto the fabric of his shirt — he knew, he knew he had to tell you how he felt. 

He needed to end this — his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear — if only to begin something new. 

You had to end it — it hadn’t sunk in until the car drove back home. The quiet morning drive left you both in a comfortable silence, the quiet white noise of his playlist, along with Yuji’s terrible singalongs and your bickering over his music choice. And you found yourself more than once staring at him as he drove, to the point where he had caught you looking. 

“What?” He tilts his head when the light turned red, fingers drumming on the steering, the other poking your side. 

“Nothing,” and you’re playfully slapping his hand away, a smile on your lips — same smile you always had with him. Always—because he’s your best friend. But he was so much more than that. 

You were in love. 

The two of you had returned to the place where you had laid your roots to rest and let your seed scatter to the wind. Only to return as a different flower altogether — but you knew, you couldn’t let it go on. 

It had become painfully clear that morning, you had woken first, the sun had not peaked over the horizon yet, and you found Yuji fast asleep — breaths even and face relaxed. You knew his parents had scarred him deeply — he spoke of them often, but not at all at — he mentioned their presence, but never his own feelings. You knew he had a habit of putting others above himself — but you had missed this — all of this week, you could have been there for him, but you were caught up in your own thoughts and you had made it all about yourself. 

And he deserved more than that. 

He deserved more than you. 

And you couldn’t risk losing him — lose him in a stupid argument or a disagreement and then never be able to comfort him again? Never be able to be by his side? You couldn’t bear to even fathom that. 

“Nanamin was asking about you,” Yuji says as the two of you walk home from the local convenience store — a late night run that produced a familiar bag of treats the two of you always shared when you came back home. 

“Oh really? Are classes over for high school already?” The English literature teacher had taken Yuji in for his last year and half of high school after his grandfather passed, and Yuji always stayed with him on breaks. 

“He asked if you were going to come with us to see my parents tomorrow morning,” it was a tradition to go visit Yuji’s parents graves each year around this time — you always paid your respects whenever you could, “he also said you’re free to stay over, but you have to sleep in a different bedroom,” you snort, “he said and I quote ‘we are past the age of sharing a room,’” You laugh, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “he’s not exactly wrong though,” his fingers graze yours, and there’s nothing more you want than to take his hand, but you know one way or another, you’d drop it in the end. Wouldn’t it be better now? When there isn’t far to fall? 

So you do, letting your hand fall away from his. 

“I’d be happy to see your parents, but I don’t know if staying over is a good idea—“ and he’s shaking his head with a chuckle in his throat. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything you don’t want to—“ 

“We should stop, Yuji,” and his smile slips off his face as if it was slapped off, he blinks, shock settling into confusion. 

“Why?” Only one word and it manages to break you all the same. 

“We just shouldn’t. This was supposed to be about teaching me, but i think I’ve learned enough,” you’re turning away, but his fingers are gently finding your wrist, “Yuji—“ 

“You don’t think I can’t tell when you’re lying?” Yuji asks, and your glass-like facade shatters so easily — why does it always have to break so readily when it comes to him? 

But you pull away all the same, “I can’t do this anymore. Not like this. I don’t want to. I can’t lose you—“ 

“You won’t lose me—“ but you’re already walking off, sparing a glance back. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning when we leave, Yuji,” and he’s opening his mouth to call out, but he stops himself, watching you disappear up the street. 

What just happened? 

The car ride to the cemetery is notably silent. Yuji’s eyes burned when he woke, head aching from the circles he ran around in last night, trying to figure out what happened. Nanami drives in the quiet, his eyes noting when Yuji chooses to sit passenger instead of beside you, only with one glance that’s averted after Yuji refuses to meet it. 

Yuji didn’t know what to make of what you said. After everything, he thought maybe — just maybe, you felt the same as he did. He thought he could tell you tomorrow, tell you when the two of you were alone — and even if it didn’t work out, it would be okay. 

But now — as his eyes stole a look at you in the rear view mirror, he wondered if it ever would be okay again. 

You left the car a moment to go use the bathroom when they stopped to fill gas in the car, and that’s when Nanami speaks. 

“So did you finally ask her out and she said no?” And Yuji’s head snaps to his, but Nanami only stares back, “you aren’t hard to read, Itadori. You’ve liked her for a long time,” 

Yuji scratches the back of his head, “I did something, kinda stupid,” and Nanami tilts his head, “really stupid, ok? And I was going to tell her how I felt, but she broke off what we were doing—“ 

“You weren’t dating?” Yuji’s cheeks burn as he waves off his teacher. 

“That’s not important! But what do I do, Nanamin?” the blond haired teacher raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s not hard to know what to do, Itadori. It’s what you should have done. Tell her how you feel,” and then you’re walking back to the car, “come on, let’s get back. We’re close now.” 

And your gaze avoids his own when Yuji watches you get back in the car, and his lips part as if to stop you — but he doesn’t. 

Not yet. 

You stood with Yuji as he tended to his parents’ graves. Simple stones that he was able to put in with time from his part time jobs, ones he had insisted he would pay for himself — refusing any help from anyone, even you. You knelt down, helping him clear the strewn dead leaves, brushing away dirt and snow — your fingers brushing when you both reach for the same place. 

And your eyes meet, as both of your fingers intertwine slowly — the three of you pay your respects, and Nanami finally stands. 

“I’ll wait for you two at the car,” Nanami says with a nod, leaving the two of you alone. You both already had placed offerings at their graves, arranging them slowly, as the two of you stand, the silence of the cemetery hanging overhead — light streaming in between clouds in the overcast sky, the sounds of the wind rustling the trees the only thing in the quiet. 

“Thank you for coming,” Yuji says softly, and your blink, eyes sliding to his. 

“You never have to thank me for that, Yuji,” you squeeze his hand, “as long as you want me to come, I’ll always be here. And I’ll always pay my respects to your parents, regardless of that,” you say, and that's exactly why you had to stop with him. You couldn’t bear to lose him — lose this, not when he’s lost too much and he was too much for you to lose, “come on, we should get back to the car,” as you pull your hand away from his. 

And maybe things could get back to normal. 

“I know,” and he doesn’t move as you turn to leave, “and that’s why I love you,” 

And you smile, “I love you too—“ 

“I don’t mean it like that,” and you freeze a moment, his words barely processing before he continues to speak, “I mean I do love you in that way too — but that’s not how I meant it now,” he says, as you turn to face him — not finding a hint of humor on his expression. 

“Yuji—“ your brain can barely process your best friend confessing to you — much less next to his parents’ graves— “should we be having this conversation—“ 

“It’s the perfect place to have this conversation,” he glances around at all of the graves, and he’s shaking his head, “maybe not the perfect place, but—“ his gaze softens when he finds yours, “you saved me,” 

“Yuji—“ 

“No, you did. After my parents died,” he stares at the stones side by side — “I could barely function. I barely wanted to do anything but sleep — but you, you pulled me out of bed. You made me go places. You made me smile again,” he says, “but that’s not the reason I fell in love with you,” his lips curl into a soft smile, “it’s because it’s you — your smile, your laugh, your being — it reminded me of happiness existed, and then I realized you were the only person who could make me happy the way you do,” 

“Yuji—“ 

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. But I don’t want to lose you, lose this chance to tell you how I feel, to tell you—“ 

“Yuji—“ 

“And I’ve always loved you — there’s never been—“ and you’re hugging him, before you even know you are, your arms are around his middle, face buried in his chest, as he murmurs your name. 

“The only reason I broke it off was,” your voice wavers despite your efforts to force it to stay even, “I didn’t to lose you by not being good enough—“ 

“You just have to be you,” his brow furrowed into the same valleys he teased you for, “you’re all I need,” his hand finds your cheek, guiding your gaze to his, “how could you think you weren’t enough?”

“You don’t tell how you feel sometimes — you don’t tell me what you’re thinking, I didn’t even know you had nightmares—“ you break off, “what if we continued this and you realized you deserved better than me? And it was already too late for me because I love—“ you break off. 

“You what?” he asks, and you’re biting your lip, “I’ll say it again if it will make you—“ 

Fuck it. 

You lean up and press your lips to his, swallowing his words as your hand finds purchase on his shoulder. And it felt right. As it always did with Yuji. 

“I love you too,” you whisper against his lips, “I love you, in the same way you do,” 

“As a friend?” And your brow furrows, “kidding! Kidding—ow!” You’re smacking him playfully, before he catches both of your wrists and pulls you close, “does that mean I can call you mine?” 

“Or baby,” and he flushes, a cute pout on his lips, “what? Isn’t it—“ and he’s kissing you again, your heart leaping as he does, his hands sliding around your hips, “Yu-“ 

“And what’s my pet name? You still haven’t given me one—“ 

“Have some decorum,” a voice cuts through, and the two of you jump apart, as Nanami stands, glaring at the two of you, “come on, if you’re done paying your respects, then we should go home,” he sighs, rubbing his temples, “the dead shouldn’t have to put up with this.” 

Yuji’s cheeks are tomato red at this point — as he covers his face— but you only chuckle, your fingers intertwining with his, squeezing, “c’mon let’s go, and maybe I can give you a pet name when we get home,” and you both turn to face his parents, as you pay your respects and head down the path a little. 

Yuji faces his parents, kneeling down to say goodbye again — and he remembers how it was their idea to set up Yuji to have a playdate with you, all those years ago. And now, here you were — the most important person in his life. 

“Thank you for everything you did for me,” and he glances at you over his shoulder as he gets up, “especially for helping me find her.” 

“Yu-ji—“ you gasp, as he’s tugging you into your bedroom, bumping himself carelessly into the wall as he guides you both to your bedroom. You giggle as he presses you against the wall outside your room, “I text you my parents are going out for dinner and this is how you greet me? What happened to hello—“ 

His lips crash against yours and you forget about ‘hello’ and just about every other word in your head. Your lips curl against his lips, as his body cages you against the wall. It had been a few days since you and Yuji had been able to have a moment alone—Nanami was watching you both cautiously, while your parents had been keeping you busy at home, seeing family or cleaning up around the house. And Yuji was growing increasingly desperate for some time with you — that wasn’t hidden brushes of fingers under the table or stolen kisses out of sight from family or friends. 

“I missed you so much, baby,” he’s murmuring — and you didn’t know it was so possible to look like a kicked puppy so much until you met Yuji, “can’t believe Nanami was so mean and kept making us keep the door open—“ 

“It didn’t help that he walked in us making out on your bed three times—“ and a moan escapes your lips as he kisses your neck, teeth grazing against your racing pulse, “fuck, Yu—“ 

“How do you always taste so good?” he mumbles against you as he leads you inside your bedroom and shuts the door. His eyes glance around your childhood room, as he takes in the childhood posters plastered on the walls, the untouched books, the stuffed animals from a millennium ago that still lined your bed. 

“My family has not changed much here for years,” your cheeks burn, as he only chuckles, walking you backwards into your bed, and you climb into the bed, only grabbing a stuffed animal from behind you, “remember this?” 

He snorts, as he takes the stuffed penguin from your hands, “How could I forget? I tried a million times to win this,” 

You tilt your head, “You said you won it your first try—“ and you gasp as he looks away, cheeks flushed, “you were trying to impress me,” 

“Not that much,” and you’re leaning closer, brushing your lips against his, “maybe just a little,” you kiss him more insistently this time, sliding against his, fingers curling in his soft strands, “maybe too much,” and you smirk, noses bumping as your lips find each other’s again and again. 

And your fingers slide down to drag his shirt up and over, freeing his chest and abs to your sight — and what a sight it is. So toned and tanned from his American football practices in the sun — perfect for your fingers and lips to explore the peaks and valleys of his body, hands already far too eager.

He returns the favor by lifting your own shirt off in an instant, groaning when he finds you wearing nothing underneath — your eyes can’t help but flit down and find his erection already tenting in his sweatpants. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect,” his eager hands are already teasing and palming you breasts, a whimper drawn out by his precise pinches and touches, “so good for me,” and your hands drag down his chest, leaning down to press kisses to his chest as your fingers trace along his abs, making him groan. 

He’s pouting, after he pulls you into another kiss, “it’s not fair,” he mumbles into the side of your neck, “I feel like I’m always the one who’s more nervous than you are,” 

You chuckle, kissing his jaw, “I felt the same way, why do you think I touched you on our TV marathon that night?” 

And he’s blinking, as you lay back on the bed for him, “you didn’t know—“ you shake your head. 

“You had offered to help get experience, and even when we had done things, you were just so…normal,” he chuckles, before laying beside you. 

“I had some practice acting normal around you, but I really didn’t. I think you nearly gave me a heart attack that night,” and you grin, drawing so close that you even feel the hitch of his breath. 

“That good, huh?” You tease, and it only takes a moment until he’s hovering over you, lust pooled in his gaze that lights a fire on your body wherever it lays. 

And his lips meet yours right after he whispers, “I’ll show you good.” 

“One more, baby,” Yuji tells you, but you barely hear it through the haze of pleasure and heat that fills the room, along with the sounds of the squelch of his fingers in your tight cunt, “just need one more,” 

And how many times had he made you orgasm already? You’d lost count — five or six at least. The first had taken some time, working his finger into your weeping slit, the way your walls stretch around him make you wonder how good it will feel when he fucks you. It’s not long before he’s sinking another finger in, the sounds and feelings of his digits curling is enough to bring you to orgasm. And the rest are a blur — another finger in your tight entrance, fucking you open as he toyed with your walls, until you came again and again. 

And now he bent down, lips around your clit, teasing and sucking at the sensitive bud, as your fingers curled in his pink locks as the lewd moans fell from your mouth with ease. You’re so close — so fucking close, and when his fingertips brush against that spot and it’s all too much. 

You cum around his fingers and mouth, his name on your lips as you do, back arching against him, as he eases his fingers from your cunt. He licks his fingers clean as your eyes flutter open to meet his, “You taste so good, baby — you’re perfect,” and you watch as his tongue flicks out to clean his lips and chin of your sticky release. 

And soon enough he’s kissing you, hand cupping your cheek, letting you taste yourself on his lips, as your fingers drag over his bare chest and follow his happy trail into the elastic of his boxers. A soft moan leaves his kiss ruined lips, as his eyes are lidded with lust, soft pants against your skin. 

“Is this a dream?” Yuji murmurs, his lips ghosting along your jaw, “never thought we would get here,” and you turn your head to meet his lips in another sweet kiss. 

“It isn’t, we’re here. Took us long enough,” your lips curl, your fingers tracing over his cheek, “and nowhere else I rather be — or no one else I rather be with,” 

“You sure?” And you’ve flipped him over, kissing down his body, fingers tugging at the elastic of his boxers until his dick is freed from the fabric, “fuck, baby, you don’t have—“ 

And his words are cut off with a grunt as your fingers grazes his erection, teasing his weeping head. You start to pump up and down, working the thick beads of precum over his length, his head falling back. 

“How’s your cock so pretty, Yu?” you coo, blowing air over his dick, making him twitch in your hand, “never thought one of these would ever be so pretty,” you let his length slap against your tongue, slowly dragging it down your 

He hisses, hands grasping at the sheets, as you bend down to flick his tongue against the head of his cock. Your lips close around it, and suck, raising the back of his hand to cover his mouth, “fuck, s’good, baby, I—“ 

And you’re letting his cock sink past your lips, your tongue flicking against his slit. Your eyes find his own, as you hollow out your cheeks and sucking hard, and his hips buck into your mouth. His tip brushes against your throat, and you’re moaning around him, your fingers cup his balls, nails digging into your scalp. 

“Baby, fuck, I’m close—where—“ and he’s trying to ease you off, but your hands only hold his hips in place. Your nose brushing against his pubes. And when you’re suck hard on his tip, toying with his sack, only for him to moan your name, before cumming down your throat, his hot release painting your insides. 

You’re slowly pulling off his dick, a string of cum and spit connecting your lips to his cock, a smile on your face. You swallow his release, the salty taste still on your lips as you watch him pant, chest rising and falling. 

“Taste so good, Yu,” you murmur, and you’re moving back up to kiss him, “think I’m addicted,” you murmur, as your lips find each other again and again. 

“Now you know how I feel,” he smiles, fingers running through your hair, “been addicted to you for over a decade,” and he’s sitting up, guiding you into his lap slowly, “we can always stop right here, we don’t have—“ 

You kiss him softly, the way he deserved, the way you’ve wanted to for so long, “I want to, Yuji, I really want to,” your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his hand, his arm slipping around your waist, “because I love you,” 

And your fingers grasp his hardening cock, pressing it to your dripping slit, and god, he’s so fucking big. You knew how big he was, but just feeling him pressed against you makes you ache at how he’ll be stretching you out. He drags his dripping tip against your slit, letting your cum mix together, letting his head catch on your clit. 

Finally, you’re sinking onto him, his thick length parting your walls, inch by inch. Your head falls back, as he leans into your touch, watching you flinch at the stretch, “you okay?” Yuji’s pressing sweet kisses to your lips and cheek, “should I stop—“ 

“No, no, I’m fine, it’s starting to feel good,” your arms wrapping around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck, “ and he’s helping you sink into him, until finally your hips are flush to his, “fuck, Yu—you’re so deep—“ his cock twitches against your walls, a shiver up his spine at your words. 

And he’s panting, his lips pressed to your shoulder, “you feel s’good, baby — so wet and warm—“ you smile, cupping his cheek, “can’t believe this is real — can’t believe—“ 

“It’s real, Yuji, it’s real,” your lips curl into a smile, “I’m here, I love you,” 

“I love you too, I love you so much,” he kisses you again and again, as he shifts slowly under you, swallowing a gasp that leaves your lips. 

“Please, Yuji, move—“ and he obliges, beginning to fuck into you, and your head falls back, as his cock rocks into you, a moan falling from your lips as you do. He’s groaning your name again and again, a grunt when you begin to ride him in tandem, both of your thrusts sending him deeper into you. 

“Baby, fuck, you’re perfect. You’re so good f’me,” his lips finding your neck, as his strokes become faster and deeper, the sounds of your skin slapping together rings in your ears as he fucks you harder and harder, “g’nna cum, s’close,“ 

“I’m close too,” you’re panting as his lips find yours in a sloppy, messy kiss that has you losing yourself more and more, as his thrusts become more and more swallow. And when he finds your clit between your bodies, rubbing as he finds that one spot that has you seeing stars, “Yuji- I’m—“ 

And you cum hard around him, soaking his cock and thighs as you do, walls squeezing him tight until he’s spilling his warm seed inside you. You slow as you do, legs quivering, as you nearly slump against him and he holds you impossibly closer. He helps you both detangle, easing his softening cock from inside you, a small groan as he sees your mixed releases leaking from you. He helps you lie back, as he wraps his arms around you, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers, brow furrowed in slight worry as your eyes flutter open, lips curling as your fingers smooth the wrinkles of his forehead. 

“I’d be better if you’d kiss me,” you whisper and he obliges, a soft kiss to your lips that leaves you warmer than you were before, “now I’m perfect,” 

“You always were,” and you chuckle, rolling your eyes, before shaking your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck. 

“No, that’s because I had an excellent teacher,” and he laughs, before he pulls you even closer, finding your lips in a kiss. 

“And you always will.” 

“Come on, Fushiguro, pay up,” Nobara holds out her hand, as Megumi glares, pulling out his wallet and plucking money from his wallet and handing it to her. 

“You cheated,” he says as she snatches the money, counting it with a grin on her lips, “I don’t know what you did, but I know you did,” 

“You never said we couldn’t give them advice,” she grins, as she pockets his money, “and all I did was give Yuji a nudge, he’s the one who fucked—“ 

“Alright,” Megumi rubs his temples, “I get it, but it’s still unfair — we’ve been waiting for them to get together all these years and all of sudden he gets the idea to become her friends with benefits—“ and Nobara only grins wider, “you didn’t—“ 

She shrugs, “you can wait around for two idiots to figure it out, or you can shove them off the deep end.” 

“I knew you cheated,” Megumi grumbles, “that’s the last time I ever make a bet with you, Kugisaki,” 

And she smirks, “Well now you’ve been taught a lesson too.” 

✧ a/n: another celebration fic done! now just one more and then i can start preparing for the next follower celebration :). i've settled on using wips but i'll pick out a bunch of prompts for you all to request for certain ones. that way, you all have had a hand in them <3. thank you to laney for helping beta <3.

✧ taglist: @adrenova, @nakariabnrb, @skvllknight, @hanlay, @spider-fan72, @anonimusunnoaniswriting, @chososcamgirl, @thenezuko, @catsgomurp, @too-much-snow, @sashaiko, @forest-fruits-jam, @rita-ritarita, @anyaeuh, @dezznuggetsblog, @jayathelostdragon, @newspapergirlmal, @2livelaughlovefictionalmen2, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @xoocii, @firelordazulaaaa, @cira273, @twosec0nd, @ororomunroro, @sunamatic, @withoutanameyet, @gojorgeous, @masctomboy805, @hantaslittlearsonist, @lemonpoppy-seed, @malmare, @teraine, @boopadoopa333, @jeyughh, @coffeebun17, @faeryli, @katienaps, @tojbitch, @fushitoru, @soulofoz, @yamaguccitadashi

[sugoroo]

#AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES...

ʚɞ summary: the chronicles of what happens when you share a living space with the jjk men: expect tension, embarrassing revelations and (of course) séx! . . . ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso + nanami.

warnings. fem!reader, masturbation, panty stealing, plushie humping in choso's, penetration (p in v), doggystyle, oral (f receiving), 18+ minors dni.

SATORU GOJO — THE LOUD ONE!

satoru gojo is the most irritating, annoying and overly loud roommate you could possibly have.

at all hours of the day, he can be heard through the thin walls separating your rooms doing one (or all) of the following things: shouting down the phone to his bestfriend suguru, raging at his teammates for losing a match in a video game... and even jerking off.

yes, that's right.

and whatever satoru is doing to himself in there simply cannot feel good enough that it warrants the sheer amount of obnoxious moans that he releases; you're sure of it. he has to be playing it up purely to get on your nerves — and to his credit, it works.

so eventually, after yet another hour of trying to focus on doing some work on your computer but being unable to get anything done due to the noises coming from the other room of the apartment, you decide to do something about it.

without stopping to knock, you unceremoniously barge through his door, mouth already open in preparation of the spew of complaints you have ready to throw his way.

but, rather embarrassingly, once you lay eyes upon what he's currently doing, any and every word in the english language disappears from your mind without so much as a puff of smoke.

satoru, for his part, doesn't react at all save for looking mildly amused at your reaction. in fact... you think the pale hand he has wrapped around his cock even speeds up its languid strokes at the sight of you.

"girl, finally!" he sighs dramatically, lips spreading into a wide, impish smile as he beckons you with the curled finger of his other hand. "been waiting for you to get the hint for months now. i was starting to think you didn't want me too, honestly."

"you— what?" you push out awkwardly, wincing through your confusion as you fight the fruitless battle to tear your eyes from his unnecessarily big cock and meet his bright eyes.

"you heard me," satoru hums with an easy shrug, letting out one of those all-too-familiar, almost pornographic moans when he squeezes his own hand around the leaky tip of his shaft. "...or do you not want me too?"

sighing, you raise your thumb and forefinger to rub your stressed temple, shaking your head at the sheer audacity of this man. "you're ridiculous, gojo. i was hoping you were just pretending to jerk off in here— but no, of course you actually are."

"mhmm," he groans raspily between increasingly loud squelches of his cock. wait; is your scolding only helping him get off even faster? oh, you can't make this shit up. "keep talkin' to me just like that, baby."

"first of all, don't call me baby," you scoff, jabbing an accusing finger in his direction with a scowl etching its way onto your features. "and secondly, if you're gonna do this... stuff right next-door to me, can't you atleast try to keep it down? some of us have work to do."

satoru rolls his eyes at this, as if he's somehow the one being inconvenienced here; but any real irritation quickly evaporates into pleasure when he starts fondling his heavy balls, tongue lewdly lolling out of his mouth like a bitch in heat.

"i-i'll keep quiet. shit— i'll do whatever you fuckin' want if you just... just get me over the edge here, pretty girl. hah— help a guy out, would you, roomie?"

and damn if that isn't an enticing offer. finally getting rid of the noise around here so you can actually submit a work assignment on time for once?

yeah... you're definitely on board.

"fine," you mutter, attempting to sound as uninterested as possible as you shuffle closer to the bed. "what do you want me to do, gojo? and don't even bother asking me to suck your dick or anything, because who knows the last time you properly washed that—"

satoru snorts out a strangled laugh, shaking his head quickly and peering up at you with wide, darkened cerulean eyes. "n-no... not that. just— just talk to me, please? and call me satoru, not gojo, damn."

"okay..." you huff thoughtfully, brainstorming what you can say to get this over as quickly as possible. eventually, you purr: "are you gonna be a dirty boy and make a mess all over your hand for me, satoru? hmm?"

and, to your surprise and... arousal? that's all it takes to get him to explode, thick ropes of sticky white cum trickling from the reddened tip of his cock as he whines in ecstasy.

huh. maybe your work can wait a little longer.

SUGURU GETO — THE ONE WHO MAKES YOUR PANTIES GO POOF!

suguru geto is a man of many talents.

but in his humble opinion, the one he is most proficient at? oh, it has to be stealing various pairs of his cute little roommate's panties without her even taking notice.

yeah; that's right, his entire underwear drawer is not actually filled with articles of his own clothing, but rather with scraps of material he has swiped from your room over the past few months.

"ugh, i lost another pair of panties!" comes a frustrated groan from you room; you must be on the phone to one of your friends, suguru muses. "i swear, it's like there's a black hole at the bottom of that washer or something."

ah, if only you knew.

if only you knew that while you're busy stressing over the mystery of your missing underwear, suguru is slumped just against the other side of the thin wall that separates your rooms, one of the aforementioned pairs wrapped tightly around his throbbing cock.

he does this more often than he would like to admit — waits until he hears you get on the phone to jerk himself off. why? well, because then he can listen to your pretty voice while he bucks up into his fist. that's why.

"such a clueless girl..." suguru mutters under his breath as his eyes flutter closed, letting himself get lost in the combination of the soft fabric of your panties surrounding his shaft and the sound of you speaking ringing in his ears. "has no idea where her precious underwear keeps wandering off to."

meanwhile, on the other side of the wall, you have a mischievous smile pulling at your lips as you pretend to be utterly oblivious about your panty thief to your confused friend on the other end of the phone.

as if you wouldn't work out it was suguru snatching them — after all, who else could it possibly be? but you figured it was better this way, letting him think he's holding all the cards in this situation.

it only makes it all the more enjoyable for you.

leaning a little closer to the wall, you can faintly hear the familiar sounds of him getting himself off as you slowly dip a hand beneath your own skirt; and you're not wearing underwear, of course, because you don't have a single pair left thanks to your roommate.

you end up dropping the phone carelessly to the ground when suguru's deep, satisfied groan sounds out from his room, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as his orgasm swiftly brings you to your own.

so lost in your own pleasure are you that when the door softly clicks open, you don't have time to compose yourself before suguru strolls right on in, seeming much too casual for someone who just came in his hand.

"well well well," suguru hums smugly, tilting his head to the side and peering down at you with a condescending smile. "what do we have here, hmm? did you really think you could outsmart me, beautiful?"

oh.

maybe you really are clueless if you genuinely thought he didn't know you were pretending to be as such... but would it really be such a bad thing if he decides to punish you for your attempt at deception?

TOJI FUSHIGURO — THE ONE WHO NEVER PAYS RENT!

toji rarely (if ever) pays his part of the rent for your shared apartment.

he doesn't even bother trying to lie to you and tell you he'll scrounge up enough cash to cover it next time it's due, because he already knows you wouldn't buy that for a second.

so, instead, he offers you something else to keep you sated. something that he can say without a shadow of a doubt he can give to you better than anyone else could even hope to.

cock.

because if he keeps you in a perpetual state of bliss underneath the sheets of his bed, how can you possibly have any time remaining to think of such trivial things like paying the entire monthly rent on your own?

"mmm... what was i saying again, toji?" you slur, voice just delirious with pleasure as he pounds into you from behind, one strong hand effortlessly keeping your face pressed against the mattress.

"nothin', baby," toji lies easily, threading his thick fingers through the back of your hair in a distractingly tender gesture as his mean hips keep up their ruthless pace. "just relax and let y'erself feel me, yeah?"

"but—" you protest weakly, followed by an involuntary hiccup as his pudgy cockhead reaches that spongy spot inside of you once again. "i have a feeling it was important..."

"nah," he grunts dismissively, free hand snaking down to where your bodies are connected to rub messy, stimulating circles around the puffy bud that is your clit. "don't worry about it, pretty."

"...okay. if you say so." you mumble eventually, brain far too hazy from his skilful ministrations to bother putting up much of a fight against his convincing words.

toji's scarred lips spread into a victorious grin behind your back at how easily you give in. he just loves having you like this — so cockdrunk you can't even remember what you were talking about from one moment to the next.

and when the time inevitably comes for you to pay the rent on behalf of both of you yet again, he already knows you won't bat an eye; because, in the big scheme of things, what's a little cash matter if it means you get to have access to his sinful dick game whenever you so desire?

yeah... he'd say it's a pretty fair trade.

but the best part of all is that toji thinks he's the mastermind behind this little arrangement when in reality, if you were looking for a roommate who could pay their rent, you would never have picked someone who looks as jobless as he does in the first place.

but you'll continue to let him believe it was his idea; because, after all, he fucks you better when he's feeling proud of himself.

CHOSO KAMO — THE SECRETLY PERVERTED ONE!

choso doesn't mean to be perverted; not really.

but whether intentional or not, he finds himself desperate for anything that reminds him of you each time he gets himself off: a t-shirt, a pair of underwear, or even one of the cute little plushies you have lined up on your bed.

he wonders, fleetingly, what you'd think of him if you could see him humping one of your stuffed toys while you're out at work — would you be disgusted? would you kick him out and start the search for a new roommate?

or would you, just maybe... take pity on the poor boy and lend him a helping hand?

by the benevolence of some undefined higher power, choso doesn't have to mull over the answer to his question for much longer. because apparently, he was so desperate to release the desire coursing through his veins that he forgot to check the time before starting like he usually would.

so when he hears the tell-tale sign of the door opening and indicating that you've just come home from work, he has nowhere near enough time to cover up what he's been up to in your room while you were gone.

well, shit.

"hey cho, what are you doing in my— oh." comes your dumfounded voice as you peek your head around the slightly ajar doorway, eyes widening in a manner akin to a cartoon character at the sight of his sinful state.

choso blushes profusely, attempting to hide his face by ducking it into his shoulder with a muffled whimper of embarrassment. to his horror, his pathetically hard cock is fully exposed to your view, nestled between the soft limbs of one of your plushies where he had previously been thrusting.

you both stay completely silent for a few long moments, neither of you daring to move a single muscle... but it isn't long before your body is climbing onto the bed to join him before your mind can even begin to process your movements.

"w-what are you doing?... are you gonna hit me? because that would be okay, you can d-definitely hit me if you want!" choso squeaks hurriedly, peeking out from his shoulder and looking for all the word like a puppy who just got caught doing something naughty by its owner.

"i'm not gonna hit you, choso," you chuckle softly, carefully tugging your abused, slightly sticky plushie out from underneath him and tossing it away. "i wanna help you. don't you wanna try doing that to something other than a stuffed toy, hmm?"

"...oh, f-fuck!" he whines loudly, hips rutting just once against the mattress before his cock cruelly betrays him and spurts buckets of cum at the mere thought of being inside of you.

choso hides his face in shame again, figuring he must've absolutely ruined his chances with you now. because there's no way you would still want to help him after witnessing that little display, right?

wrong.

when you tug his head away from his shoulder by one of his scraggly pigtails and pull him into a searing kiss, he realizes maybe his pretty little roommate was just as perverted as him all along.

KENTO NANAMI — THE RESPECTFUL ONE!

kento is very fond of you; his sweet roommate who always wakes him up for work in the morning if he happens to accidentally oversleep and leaves him homemade dinner in the fridge to cheer him up after a late shift.

he figures these things making him feel attraction towards you is fairly normal — but it's the other, not-so-intentional things that make him go crazy for you the most.

when he spots you walking around the apartment in nothing but one of his oversized shirts and a pair of socks because your clothes are in the communal washer... or when he silently observes you bend over to grab something from the bottom cupboard in the kitchen?

yeah, those are the things that really make it hard for him not to pounce on you like some kind of feral animal.

it all comes to a crux when you come home in tears one night, babbling about your fool of a boyfriend having the audacity to cheat on you. hmph, nanami never liked him anyway.

but there's no time for petty jealousies now — no, now is the time for him to make you realize that what you've been craving has been here all along, living in the room right next-door to yours.

so he pulls you into a gentle kiss, pouring all of his pent-up affection into the gesture as he effortlessly lifts you up onto the kitchen counter, positioning himself between your spread legs.

"i want to make you forget about him, beautiful," nanami whispers, voice rough with sincereness as he places a soft peck on the corner of your lips. "may i?"

and you're nodding shakily, but it isn't enough. he reaches up with a large hand to grasp your chin in a firm yet tender grip, thumb stroking over your skin. "use your words for me, dear. come on, i know you can do it."

"y-yes. please, kento."

and that's all it takes for nanami to fall to his knees, brushing his lips over the insides of your thighs as he slowly works his way upwards. god, he's wanted to do this for so long — if for nothing else then to thank you for taking such good care of him and never asking for anything in return.

but oh, is he going to give you something in return now; specifically, in the form of his hot mouth attached to your cunt, tongue lapping up every drop of your translucent juices as if it were the finest wine on the menu of a high class restaurant.

he can't help but wonder, while he's buried nose-deep in your sweet pussy, why on earth a man would choose to cheat on a goddess such as yourself.

but he supposes it doesn't matter, if it means that he's the one who finally gets to worship at your altar from now and for as long as you'll allow him the honour of doing so.

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[ba9go]

guard dog katsuki

katsuki being protective of you when you wear a short dress out on a date with him

bakugou katsuki x fem!reader (sfw) just a teensy bit suggestive but mostly fluff

katsuki loves it when you dress up on dates.

partially because you’ve dolled yourself up for him, doing your hair all nice and spritzing that damn perfume that katsuki’s addicted to. but even more so because he loves it when his girl’s feeling all pretty and confident. as you should, always.

it’s a friday night and katsuki’s picking you up from your place to bring you out to a really nice restaurant for dinner. it’s been a long, tiring week, and you’re a real sight for sore eyes, in that little black dress that sits tight on all your curves.

it’s gorgeous on you. you look absolutely ravishing in it (and katsuki has every intention of ravishing you later tonight), so really, katsuki has no complaints about the dress.

but god, katsuki hates the way these extras are looking at you.

katsuki glares at every guy who walks past you with their eyes clearly glued to you. as if his arm isn’t wrapped securely around your waist. as if it wasn’t already clear that you belong to him.

“katsuki, you okay?” you ask, looking up at him sweetly. “you’ve been kinda quiet.”

“my bad,” katsuki mutters, but he doesn’t meet your gaze. he’s busy staring down some depraved fucker who’s shamelessly staring at your ass from across the street. “m’listenin’, jus’ keep talkin’.”

but you’re not dense, and you quickly realise that katsuki’s irritated by all the unwanted attention you’re receiving.

“sorry, kats,” you grimace as you pull down your dress in an attempt to make it seem more modest. “i left my jacket in your car, i should’ve taken it with me to the restaurant.”

“you cold?” katsuki asks. you shake your head. “then what d’ya need your jacket for?”

“to cover up a lil.”

“why? ya not feelin’ comfortable?” katsuki asks almost demandingly, like an overly concerned parent, and you can’t help but laugh.

“i’m okay, katsuki, but i feel bad. you’re like my guard dog, glaring at every sketchy guy we walk by. this wouldn’t be a problem if—”

“if people weren’t freaks,” katsuki finishes for you. “s’got nothin’ to do with you, darlin’. you look beautiful tonight, as always.”

“thank you, katsuki.” you smile. katsuki tightens his arm around you and looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky tonight.

“i got you covered princess.”

katsuki does indeed have you covered. a drunk guy asking for your number almost knocks into you and proceeds to get kicked to the curb by katsuki.

BONUS:

“hey, dollface! can i get your number?”

“hey, fucker, want mine instead?” katsuki snaps so quickly you have to hold back your laughter.

“woah there, buddy, calm down!”

“this is me being calm, dipshit. can’t you see my girl’s holdin’ my hand right now? that’s the only thing keeping me from going over there and fucking you up, so you’d better hightail it out of here before i kill you for even thinkin’ that trash like you could ever deserve a chance with my gi—”

“katsuki, enough. he’s already running away, see?”

“…yes, ma’am.”

“good. thanks for being such a good dog, ‘suki.”

“the fuck did you just call me?! …not in public, dumbass.”

say “woof” katsuki! 🦴

taglist (thank you for your support!!): @anicaaa67 @maddietries @valeriyaaak @v3n7s @deimosjay @zaiban2989 @girls-overflower @notmeduhh @dreamcastgirl99 @busdriver-move-that-ass @atashiboba @kathsuhki @armeenix @channnee @sukunasbottomlefteyeball @kenqki @vikizzy @thesimpybitch @eempxth @hanta-seros-wifey @itztaki @thekidscallmebosss @crimsonrubie @babylambdietcoke @suki0 @dazqa

[deebris]

From annoying to beloved

Homelander x fem!Reader

Synopsis: The new member of the Seven annoys Captain Patria with their habit of doodling in the corners all the time, but he didn't expect to end up liking it.

During the fourth season, it can be read as both romantic and platonic.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of murder, the reader has the power to control plasma, fluffy.

The reader is also kind of anxious.

Word count: 2.9k

"You gotta be fucking kidding with me." Homelander interrupted abruptly upon hearing snores in the room. "Is Noir sleeping?"

"Mmhmm," Firecracker murmured in agreement, but the masked superhero jolted awake when The Deep kicked his chair.

"Oh, shit! Sorry, guys." Black Noir straightened up, while the Captain shook his head in disbelief, unable to fathom what he had just witnessed.

"Ah, what the fuck." The blonde furrowed his brows, eyes darting around the room quickly, then fixing on a specific point when something else caught his attention. He had noticed you earlier with a notebook and pencil, but now you're not writing but drawing. The irritating sound of the graphite scraping against the paper had been bothering him for some time, but he had tried to ignore it, assuming as a newcomer you were taking notes.

He wouldn't lie. Though he found taking notes utterly stupid, he liked to think someone was that focused on what he said. Not that he needed it, just opening his lips and everyone would be watching him. But as if that weren't enough, he finally realized you were dressed in regular civilian clothes.

"Radiance, where's your suit?" He asked slowly, but angrily. "Can't anyone do anything right around here?"

You finally tore your attention from the paper, meeting Homelander gaze directly. It's not that you weren't paying attention—in fact, you were, maybe more than anyone else there. It was easier to absorb things while doodling, a way to calm your nerves. Well, that or rubbing your sweaty fingers together until they hurt.

No one ever understood. Even back in school, your parents used to receive complaints about you drawing during class, no matter how high your grades were or the fact that you were the top student.

This was your first meeting with the Seven, and the last thing you wanted was to give the impression of being careless or not caring about being there. It could be said that one of the best days of your life was yesterday when Vought sent you a notice, letting you know that the greatest superhero of all had personally chosen you to join the team. After so many "retarded" - in his words - he had been forced to accept into the Seven, Homelander saw in you, above all, the opportunity to make up for Firecracker's ridiculous weakness.

When Ashley began talking about your powers, he had no doubt the last spot was yours. It was simply brilliant. Who the hell would have imagined someone would have powers to control a state of matter? You could maneuver fire, generate electrical discharges, disrupt magnetic fields, and damn it, you could split atoms as if slicing butter.

Vought's scientists said they didn't know if it was possible, but you could destroy the damn out of a star one day. Homelander wasn't a science guy, but in one of his moments of boredom, he got curious and did some research. He didn't even know that plasma crap was all that, he thought it was a cell thing or whatever.

He always thought someone with a power as peculiar as yours, and at your age, would be arrogant or just plain dumb. But you were actually the complete opposite. You didn't speak unnecessarily, and while you seemed very aware of your own actions, you had no clue how powerful you were, or perhaps ignored that fact. The blonde thought you were an idiot for it, but he appreciated the inferiority you submitted to, especially in relation to himself.

"I don't have one, sir," you replied to his question, feeling small with everyone looking.

"What the hell?" He continued, focusing on you with incredulous voice, he couldn't believe it. How did someone end up here without even having a superhero suit?

The truth was, you had never been part of any team before, nor had you received any sponsorship during your life, or even attended Godolkin University. The only thing you had were your powers, which were indeed impressive. You never chased after any position, nor were you ever obsessed with being a famous superheroine, but lately you thought it would be a good adventure to radicalize your life. That's when you applied to join the Seven.

"How do you have a name and not have a fucking suit?" He asked, boiling with anger, fists clenching tightly behind his back.

"They gave me a name when I filled out the application," you answered honestly. That day, after they chose to call you Radiance, a random and easily commercial name, you couldn't complain much and didn't want to bother, so you left it at that.

"You'll be introduced as an official member of the Seven tomorrow, how do you not have a suit?" He took his hands off his back, moving them as he spoke to express his confusion, and for a few moments you followed it movement like a child who can't keep their attention on anything for long. "Who's handling your marketing?"

You couldn't answer, so you stayed silent and no one else dared to say a word either. You had no idea who was handling your marketing, not knowing you should even have that. You glanced quickly around the table, perhaps seeking some kind of help for the situation, but everyone looked down when they realized you were staring at them. They were enjoying themselves, and that made you exhale through your nose in embarrassment.

"You know what? Fuck it, doesn't matter." Homelander brought his fingers to his furrowed forehead, letting out a loud sigh as he calmed down. "Just... don't show up like this in public until someone gives you a suit."

"Yes, sir," you replied tensely, relieved that he had resolved the matter.

Sister Sage widened her eyes in relief when she finally saw the superhero sitting beside her. She opened her mouth to begin speaking, as she had intended from the beginning, but when some sound was about to come out of her mouth, Homelander spoke to you again, this time pointing an accusatory finger at you:

"And stop drawing, damn it," he ordered, causing you to slowly drop the pencil on the table, as if caught doing something wrong with the weapon of the crime in hand. You stared at your lap throughout the entire meeting, embarrassed for messing everything up on your first day.

When the meeting ended, you followed most people out of the room, but stopped nearby in one of the hallways. You slid down the wall, crouching in a hidden corner, and lightly tapped the sketchbook against your forehead in annoyance.

"Stupid," you murmured softly to yourself. It was so ridiculous, yet it embarrassed you so much. Maybe this first day wasn't so bad after all. You would have plenty of time to prove your worth to everyone, no need to dwell on this situation. Even though you had been corrected in front of some of the most iconic supers by Homelander himself, this situation could be overcome. It was thinking about it that kept you from letting the burning tears fall.

"I can hear you whining," Homelander voice made you jump to your feet, startled to be caught once again doing something you shouldn't. He didn't seem happy, and his expression was so intimidating that you felt like Mariah Carey performing for a crowd of Eminem fans.

He approached you in slow steps and you held the sketchtebook protectively to your chest, as if that could protect you from something. He glanced down to briefly see the object in your hands and looked at you with disgust.

"If you don't straighten up, I'll kick you out. Got it?" Everything about him exuded threat. Maybe if he weren't so imposing and powerful, that sentence would have sounded a bit like the janitor from your old school scolding you for spending too much time in the bathroom during class.

You were paralyzed standing there and all you could do was a nod. But your gesture made him more aggressive.

"Answer with your mouth. Are you mute or something?" And there he was, hands behind his back again. He seemed to enjoy that pose.

"I won't mess up, sir," you said, swallowing your saliva.

"And get rid of that. Or burn it, do whatever, just get rid of it. And I better not see you with that again," he said referring to your notebook, walking away faster than before. "These kids..." you heard him mutter distantly.

After that happened, you didn't destroy the sketchtebook, but you were afraid of being caught and kept it safely tucked away in the back of a drawer in your room. What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel, right? You mentally made a promise to yourself not to use it anywhere else but here, to avoid causing more trouble.

It's been a week since you've been with the Seven, and several strange things have happened. You quickly realized that Homelander wasn't the pristine and merciful hero everyone believed him to be. But the truth was that deep down you already expected that. Everything about heroes always seemed too perfect and pure, there had to be a catch. Despite everything, you still remained yourself, never intentionally hurting anyone or getting involved in murders and conspiracies.

You were comfortable helping out with some minor crimes that Vought sent you to solve, but by now you suspected that sooner or later Homelander would ask you to do some of his atrocities. It was still hard to think about how to feel about it, but you weren't naive, you were already mentally preparing to submit to it or else be killed.

During that time, as you adjusted and interacted with the team, it didn't go unnoticed by Homelander that you were drawing on your own hand, or on napkins and on random sheets you found lying around, even though you hadn't shown up with your sketchtebook again. This was starting to wear on his last nerve, but he tried to ignore it. As long stayed as you were, without asking too many questions and obedient, he made an effort to continue overlooking your makeshift drawings.

"Meeting's over," the blond suddenly declared, interrupting another of the Seven's weekly gatherings while cutting off The Deep's rambling about his ideas.

"But I haven't even talked about the flying shark yet," he tried to defend himself.

"Shut up," Homelander's voice rang out sternly in the room, issuing a warning that the man promptly obeyed.

"Right. Meeting's over." Ashley nervously moved to gather the portfolios on the new soda advertisement she had come to present, but as soon as she touched the first folder, specifically the A-Train one, the superhero exploded in rage:

"Ashley! Get out!" She immediately dropped the folder in place and hurried out in her heels, unable to run in them. "All of you! Get out of here."

Everyone got up from their chairs, even you, and filed out through the front door, leaving the folders on the table. Sister Sage hesitated, thinking she might be an exception, but when his scowl deepened, she understood she should leave too.

With the room empty, Captain Patria took a few minutes to admire the view from the tower. He enjoyed staring at it sometimes, even when bored.

"Bunch of idiots," he muttered to himself, shaking his head in denial, indignant. If he had to spend one more minute with these morons, he would have a heart attack, even though that was technically impossible for him.

He threw his cape back as he turned to leave, looking down and not focusing on anything in particular. But his eyes caught something different from the other folders. It was obviously yours, with a huge drawing covering the text and images printed on it.

That was the first time he actually saw something you had scribbled. And damn, it was perfect. It was a drawing of everyone in the room, with him in the center looking angry. Just as he was. His ego flared up as he noticed that his figure was more detailed than the others'. You must have started drawing him first, hence had more time to detail him. The idea of you making him the main focus of this particular drawing made his pupils dilate. He used his super hearing to check if anyone else was around and secretly took that sheet for himself.

The next time he saw you drawing in the Seven's room, he couldn't help but wonder if you were drawing him again. As soon as he noticed you sneakily reaching for a pen that belonged to Ashley, he looked in your direction. The noise that used to annoy him now sparked curiosity. And after staring at you for so long, it didn't take long for you to look back at him too. The blond thought you would be embarrassed, like most people, but you just grinned as if you were used to being caught looking. And indeed, you were.

You began drawing Homelander more frequently when you realized he never caught you watching him. It was easier and avoided awkward situations with other people. After two whole weeks of drawing him continuously while taking advantage of this freedom, you felt capable of drawing his face without even needing to see a photo, having memorized most of his distinctive features.

Well, it seems he's finally noticed you.

Sometimes, when alone in your room, you took out your sketchbook and started practicing the memory of his facial features you had developed. Just like every other time, you became absorbed in the drawing, focusing only on the voices around you to understand what was being said. This was also a way to keep yourself engaged during conversations, so you wouldn't get restless from being still while being a mere spectator of everything. After all, you never participated much or gave opinions; Deep already did enough for two.

The meeting had already ended, but you stayed in your chair, even as everyone else left, to finish just a part of the hair. You thought no one would mind, and then you would leave as usual, but a voice caught you by surprise:

"Can I take a look?" Homelander asked, for the first time, using a gentle voice beside you. His expression was enigmatic, somewhat relaxed, and shy at the same time.

You turned the stack of post-it notes, also taken from Ashley, for him to see what you had drawn, fearing what he would say. You weren't ashamed of drawing people, much less of them catching you doing it. You feared because he found your habit annoying.

He observed the drawing, seeing his posture from the side, upright and imposing. He wondered if you drew him exactly as you saw him, or if it was just another caricature of reality, like those Photoshopped pictures spread around. He looked much better than he imagined, though he had that superiority complex that made him see himself as a god.

For a moment, he was offended to see his image stamped on such despicable things as scraps of paper and these damn post-it notes. Your fingerprints were also visible stains, and the paper was slightly wrinkled from his sweat. He had noticed that sometimes you drew calmly, as if you had all the time in the world, and other times it was like drawing on a boat in a storm. Today seemed to be the latter situation.

"Do you like drawing me?" He glanced at you.

"I do," you shrugged. That was the simplest and most truthful answer you could give. "Sorry, I won't do it anymore," you said, thinking he was bothered by it.

"Why?" He ignored your apology.

"You're drawable... I guess," you stared at the table, not understanding the flow of the conversation.

"And what the fuck does that mean?" He asked in a louder voice, turning to face you, obviously confused. "Is this some artistic shit?"

"It's just that you're easy to draw because you have unusual characteristics. It's a good thing," was your answer, and it inflated his chest with narcissistic pride. Unusual, that's what you said, but to him, it was like being called extraordinary.

"Next time you draw me, try using a sketchbook," he said sternly, pretending to reject your work, but deep down, he just didn't want to show that he really liked it. That statement was his way of encouraging you to continue, but at the same time, it was so ironic, considering he got mad at you just when you were drawing him in the sketchtebook that day.

"But you asked me to get rid of mine," you said simply, your voice dwindling with each word of the sentence, not wanting him to find out that you had never thrown it away.

"I'll get you a new one," he said dismissively, taking the entire stack of post-it notes with him, including the drawing, as if you wouldn't notice.

[danganronpadespairtime]

As you may know, Chapter 2 of Danganronpa: Despair Time has finally concluded, after a long 3 years since the end of Chapter 1. Thank you to the staff members who made this possible and thank you to everyone who has stuck with me during this long journey! I was very nervous about a lot of things, so I hope that chapter 2 has been received well.

This is unfortunately where I have to talk about some bad news. DRDT is going on hiatus. In fact, it will probably be quite some time before I even begin work on chapter 3. I know this is probably disappointing news for many, I am terribly sorry. I will talk about some of the reasons behind why.

I felt as if there was a lot of mixed response to this chapter. Please know that I take your complaints seriously, I want to produce a work that can be enjoyed by everyone. In truth, I have no experience or education in writing or producing, and I do not even consider myself a "writer" or "producer." This is the first story I have attempted to write. I hope you can acknowledge that it is a long learning experience for me, and be lenient with the amateurish first work that is full of flaws. Even though DRDT has become a popular Fangan, it doesn't mean that in turn I have become an experienced creator. Because of my lack of experience, I have little confidence as a creator. When fans are dissatisfied with something that happened recently in DRDT, I worry about how they will respond to future episodes of DRDT. It is difficult to maintain faith in the decisions I make and I keep second-guessing myself, worrying about how something will be received. Working on chapter 3 in this state is too difficult.

I am also burnt out from working on DT. Even though it was once possible for me to draw multiple sprites in one day, now it is a struggle to even make a single sprite of a small face modification. Nearing the end it was difficult and painful to draw such things like the execution or closing argument. So it will probably be a while before I am even capable of writing or drawing for the DT main story again.

TL;DR: I don't foresee myself even beginning to work on DT Ch3 (including bonus episodes) for a very long time. I apologize for delivering this disappointing news. With this in mind, I will be working on and posting things that are not DT CH3. Some of this will relate to DRDT and some of it will not. I ask for your patience as I continue to create and gain experience as a creator. I hope that you can support these works too.

Thank you again to all those who have supported me and enjoyed my work. Please support the amazing staff who worked on DT as well, I am eternally grateful for their work. If my work was able to inspire you or move you or bring you enjoyment even a little, I would be happy.

[enchantedlov3r]

This has been on my mind all day thanks to this moodboard. by @bambiwrites

warnings: spitting, smut, strap on sex, tribbing, oral(r receiving), dom!ellie, sub!reader! enjoy cuz this was very slutty.

just thinking about officer!ellie williams coming home to you after a rough and long day of dealing with crazy people, from crazy coked-out addicts to extreme chases to even dealing with a robbery.

thinking of her just coming up the stairs seeing you laying in your shared bedroom and seeing your pretty eyes staring at the tv while playing with your wedding ring.

you turn to her when you see her leaning against the door and you smile at her greeting her with sweet words and asking her about her day.

"hi baby! how was your day? not too stressful I hope?" you say as she makes her way to the bed disbanding her belt and taking off her vest leaving her in just her uniform, shoes long gone.

"it was more than just fucking stressful mama, it was exhausting and just a pure damn nightmare." ellie expresses to you as she scoots closer to you laying on top of you and spreading your legs to slot herself and rest her head on your stomach.

you frown at her words and run your fingers through her hair. pretty auburn locks furrowed and frizzy. slightly wet from the heat most likely being sweat.

"oh love, I'm so sorry. anything I can do to help you? want a massage?" you ask trying to lighten her mood and make her feel better.

that's when as if in a cartoon, a light bulb pops up over her pretty head. she needed those words to come put of your mouth.

she had just the perfect thing. "yea baby, you just lie back and let me release my stress on you yea?" she asks.

you smile and lay down as you watch her slide further and further down pushing the covers back so you can see her face as she pulls down your pajama shorts.

boy were you not prepared for what she was going to do next...

"oh f-fuck ellie, t-too much, I can't take it, please ellie omg r-right there-fuck!" you cry out feeling your third orgasm come to light for the night.

and what's not surprising is that you've cum three times just from ellie's tongue alone with the rare featuring of her fingers inside you.

but boy you definitely were not ready for the overstimulation and the number of times ellie made you cum, you lost count after the first four.

then came out the strap and when ever that thing was brought out, it meant you wouldn't be able to fucking walk afterwards.

you cry and scream out not even fearful of getting caught or complaints from your neighbors.

the whole neighborhood knows ellie's name by now. hearing ellie's grunts and moans and dirty fucking words as she rams into you abusing your pretty pussy like a fucking bull.

the feeling of her silicone cock deep inside you hitting spots inside you that no one could ever hit like ellie.

the feeling of ellie's wet pussy against yours as she grabs and massages your breasts, spitting and licking your perked up nipples.

ellie getting all messy, letting saliva drip from her tongue lading between your pussy lips as she rubs her wetness against you making you moan out her name in a broken way.

your voice horse and raspy from screaming all night. ellie's eyes rolling to the back of her head, thoughts and stress completely gone.

the stamina ellie had on her was a little concerning but hey! you never questioned it, especially when she was making you feel this good, scream this loud, and make you the happiest woman alive.

ellie now finally out of the stress and lust-filled haze she was in, takes you both to the shower and gets you cleaned up and then you both head back to bed to have to get up for work all over again.

Taglist: : @ribbonprincess @r3starttt @dollyfl1rt @raynesbandaids @quiet-villian @dustbunniess @r3starttt + anyone else who wants to join!

COMMENTS, REBLOGS, AND LIKES ARE MUCH APPRECIATED!

©enchantedlov3r| All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[evieolo]

Shaky

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Contains: SMUT!/softdom!matt/fem!receiving/overstimulation/stomach bulging/size kink/squirting/fingering/p in v

A/N: THANK YOU @lustfulslxt for proof reading me you’re the best!!!

"Strip," Matt demands. You've been concealed behind the walls of his room for seconds, and his mood has drastically changed from what it'd been minutes ago when he was joking around with Chris and Nick.

"What?" Your voice is small, wondering partially if you'd heard Matt right, but the logical side of you knows your brain wouldn’t make up these types of words from him.

"I said strip," Matt deadpans, crossing his arms over his chest like a disappointed soccer mom. His voice has dropped to a dangerously low octave, causing your stomach to be sent into a frenzy.

"Matt. Chris and Nick will hear," you press, looking up to his furrowed expression. He pulls you in by your hips, with his palms on your ass giving no support to your spine. Your back arches as you stumble forward into him, pressing your chest into his.

Your lips are so close together. Fuck. You're practically kissing, this upturns your need for him, skyrocketing from a one to a ten in a matter of seconds. You attempt pressing your thighs together to alleviate the burning tension of your heat, but Matt stops this action, kneeing his thigh between your two legs, only increasing the throbbing sensation of your core.

"Matt…"

"Strip and I’ll make you feel good, baby," he mumbles, speaking against your neck as he nips at your skin, biting and leaving marks while his hands roam your body, feeling at the skin under your tank top.

While Matt makes art of your neck, your hands make quick work of your jeans, skillfully unbuttoning them and wriggling them off your hips in a solid motion. Your panties follow, too slowly for Matt who rips them down your thighs and pushes you to step out of them, effortlessly closing the gap between the two of you and his bed.

You fall back, thighs hanging over the bed's edge with Matt hovering above you.

"M’gonna eat you out, sweet girl," he mumbles, kneeling at the foot of the bed and propping your thighs over his shoulder. Matt sucks his cheeks, gathering spit in his mouth before harshly spitting a jewel of it directly on your slick. This sends a shiver up your spine, added with the need to be touched.

"Please Matt - I need your tongue."

Matt silently obliges, pressing a kiss to your clit before sucking it lightly. The stimulation causes your hips to jolt up, and your slit bumps Matt’s nose. He makes a ‘tut’ sound twice with his lips, snaking his hands around your thighs and pressing your hips down into the mattress. Then he starts eating you out, lapping your wetness like a man starved.

"Matt! Matt!" You nearly chant, the unwavering need to jolt your hips up denied by the force he puts on them. The heat building in your stomach threatens to snap remarkably fast, the lewd sound of Matt's mouth against your slit shooting straight to your core.

Matt removes a hand from your shaking hip, using his free hand to stimulate your clit. This sets you off the edge, the band in your stomach immediately snapping, waves of euphoria washing over you. Rubbing a palm over your clammy cheek, Matt admires you like a piece of art, "Fucked you dumb after one orgasm?" He scoffs, pushing you roughly further onto the bed.

"N-no," you stammer.

Matt breathes out a "good," ridding his hard-on of the clothing concealing it. "Ready?" He asks, his voice showing care for the first time that night. You nod weakly, and Matt pushes closer to you, rubbing his dick against your slit. You let out an open-mouthed moan when you feel him against you. "Shut up," Matt grunts. The last thing he needed was a noise complaint from his brothers. He aligns his tip with your hole, momentarily pausing so you can brace for the stretch, and pushes in slowly.

You’d had sex before, yet nothing ever braced you for Matt's stretch. He was big, pushing into your heat agonizingly inch-by-inch until he bottomed out with a guttural moan.

"Fuck, this pussy’s gonna milk me dry," Matt curses, pushing your thighs up, readying you for a mating press, and pressing his lips to yours harshly.

He envelops you in the kiss, his lips moving harshly against yours proving his dominance, though, with your hazy state of mind, he doesn’t need to. Subconsciously you grind your hips against his, needing more friction.

Matt notices this, moaning at your movement before pulling out to his tip, pressing your thighs back, and stretching your quads in a burning mating press. He leans forward, pressing his chest against yours, and slams himself into you, his cock head easily hitting your cervix. You nearly scream at his rough antics as he sets a rapid thrusting pace, instantaneously bringing back the knot in your stomach. Your moans raise in volume, letting out yelps, whimpers, and chants of his names until he’s tired of hushing you and clamps a hand over your mouth.

"You want the whole neighborhood to hear how good I fuck you, baby?" Matt grunts.

You struggle to form an answer, unsure if it's the rate of how he’s fucking you or his hand over your mouth, but give up on the protest once you realize you won't be choking a single word out. “Gonna cum, baby?” Matt coos. You nod from under his hand, and he removes his palm. “Open,” he demands.

You oblige, too fucked out, too focused on his cock hitting all the right spots to realize what he’s doing. You open your jaw, and a jewel of his spit falls into your mouth. You barely fathom what's happening before he’s telling you to swallow. “Be a good girl for me, gonna be a good girl and swallow?” He moans. Your brain is hardly functioning, you moan out a “yeah,” remembering the simplest of bodily functions, and swallow his spit.

To Matt, this is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He watches you roll your head back, and your legs start shaking, almost enough to set him off course. “M’cumming,” you whimper, the words barely getting past your throat before you're enveloped in a trail of moans.

As you orgasm around Matt’s cock, he doesn’t slow down, if anything, he speeds up. Not leaving a second for you to come down from your high, only elongating the pleasure.

"M-Matt, s-slow down, t-too sensitive," you wreathe. All he does is fold your thighs further against your torso, still fucking into you relentlessly when he sees a bulge in your stomach.

This inflates his ego to the max before he speaks up, and you realize what he’s referencing. “Can you feel me up here, baby?” He coos, pressing into your lower stomach. The feeling of overstimulation, Matt fucking into your cervix, topped with the pressure of his palm, tightening the grip of your walls around him becomes too much.

You whimper, trying to squirm away from his touch, but you're under him, trapped in his tight mating press. “M-Matt, don’t do that,” you stammer out in a wave of moans.

Matt grits his teeth and presses harder on your stomach, still hammering his cock inside of you. Your legs start to shake, vision partially blanking at your upcoming orgasm. “F-feels different, Matty,” you cry out.

Matt doesn’t stop, keeping the pressure on your stomach persistent. “Just let go, baby,” he ushers, chasing his own orgasm.

“Matt, I-“

You’re cut off by your orgasm, squirting all over his cock.

Matt is amazed by the sight, he practically cums on the spot when he feels you spasming around him, releasing inside of you and thrusting two more times to fuck his seed into you before pulling out and lying down next to you on the bed.

You nestle yourself into his chest as you come down from your orgasm, taking heavy gulps of air to alleviate the dizziness in your head. Matt strokes your temple, brushing your hair off of your clammy forehead with the pads of his thumbs.

When you speak up, it's a question, “Matt, what-“

He cuts you off with a chaste kiss to your lips and looks at you with admiration. “You squirted, baby, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he gushes. Your cheeks flush at the realization of what just happened, and you bring your hands up to cover your face.

“Babe, what are you doing?” Matt teases with amusement.

“That’s so embarrassing!” You squeak.

Matt laughs and pries your hands off your face, pressing a reassuring kiss to your temple. “It was hot,” he repeats.

You sit in silence for a minute while you both ground yourselves, until Matt props himself up on his elbows. “Shower?” he suggests, tilting his head in your direction.

Your hair is tangled from moving frictionally against the mess of blankets, there’s spit on your chin (he doesn’t know if it's yours or his), and your legs are still shaking. Matt chuckles, bringing your attention back to him. “What’s so funny?” You pout, Matt smirks. “I fucked you so good your legs are still shaking.”

You cross your arms. “That’s not funny.”

“Shower?” Matt says, repeating his ask.

“Bath,” you correct, “M’too sore.”

A/N PT2: I finally finally got my “writing groove back” so hopefully I’ll be coming out with a lot this and next week. ALSO we’re going to ignore the fact that men literally don’t last as long as Matt did in this fic and pretend Matts just chill like dat for dramatic effect. Ok, perfect, yay! Love you guys 💋💋💋

🏷️ @cheriematt @sturnzsblog

Taglist

[heechwe]

lost in wonderland | 𝐩𝐬𝐡

୨୧ pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 12k ୨୧ genre: smut, semi-angst, fluff ୨୧ tags: mentions of drug use, fake dating au, rockstar!sunghoon, popstar!reader, enemies to lovers au, jerk to down bad sunghoon, pet names (baby, doll, love, etc.), dirty talk, nipple play, oral (f receiving), belly bulging, spanking, unprotected sex, creampie ୨୧ synopsis: Park Sunghoon, one half of popular rock band Into Eden, is on thin ice with his management and the general public. What does his manager Jay decide to do? Set him up with the leader of rising pop girl group PrismHeart. And while it starts as two stubborn people living in a lie, growing feelings cannot hold anything but the truth. ➸ This one's dedicated to my lovely betas: Ley @pars-ley), Ally @lovetaroandtaemin, Kiki @wonwovy, & Lola @monamipencil)! I'm so grateful to y’all and the love you’ve given this story; I hope everyone else loves it too 🤍 Also the ending song and inspiration for the title is from Boys Like Girls's song "Lost in Wonderland"!

“PARK SUNGHOON: ANOTHER HEARTBREAK UNDER HIS BELT?”

“IS HEESEUNG TIRED OF HIS BANDMATE’S GAMES? IS ‘INTO EDEN’ IN TROUBLE OF DISBANDING?”

“DID SUNGHOON RUIN ANOTHER GIRL GROUP, AND HIS EX’S CAR?”

Sunghoon laughs at the headlines plastered across his manager’s desk. The gossip rags are the only vibrant thing in the office, the monochrome black and white color scheme creating a strict atmosphere that suffocates the rock star to no end. Who knew such bullshit could provide such humor? 

The sound dies on Sunghoon’s tongue when he sees Jay’s displeasure pervade the older man’s entire face. His arms are crossed, and Sunghoon can see the veins in Jay’s neck tighten.

“You think this is funny?” Jay asks, his voice even-keeled, but his body language anything but.

“No, Mr. Park.”

“Hoon.” Jay says his talent’s name with admonishment. He sits back down in his chair across from Sunghoon, the large desk separating them. “You know I hate when you call me that.”

“What should I call you, Mr. Park? Bro? Dude? J-Man?”

Jay can’t help the chuckle on his lips, but he shuts it down to go back to the discussion at hand. “Simply put, the label’s pissed. All that we should see two months before your tour is good press, not this shit. And you know Yeji is going to do more than just comment in a couple of tabloids.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “She has nothing to say, besides the fact that it ended mutually.”

“You call making out with Lia ‘ending mutually’?”

Sunghoon raises his hands in defense, a smirk on his lips. “Don’t know what you were told, but that happened after we broke up.”

“Okay, that’s it.” Jay takes the multitude of tabloids and throws them in the trash next to his desk. “The label is going to chop my balls off if I don’t fix the problems you created.”

Sunghoon, in his mind, isn’t a problem child, per se. He simply pales in comparison to his golden boy best friend and musical partner, Lee Heeseung. It isn’t his fault that Heeseung is squeaky clean. The only crazy thing the guy has ever done was dye his hair red for their recent cover shoot. 

Sure, Heeseung has been committed to one person for years, long before the two men ever became a name in the public eye. The guy never partakes in recreational activities, choosing to spend his free time with his girlfriend or in video game chat rooms rather than in nightclubs like his counterpart. And he’s always been a media darling, giving signed photos to fans and providing the paparazzi with his undivided attention without complaint.

 Sunghoon likes to live without restrictions or red tape. If he has to be judged for that, constantly not measuring up to the pedestal his best friend lives on, so be it.

“It’s time for Plan B,” Jay says, breaking Sunghoon from his thoughts.

After Sunghoon’s brows furrow in confusion, Jay turns on the TV stationed behind his desk. The news video on display shows the members of PrismHeart, the label’s rising girl group, attending the AMAs with bright smiles and matching sparkly ensembles.

“This is Plan B?” Sunghoon asks, releasing a breathless laugh.

“No.” Jay points to you in the center of the LED screen. Your hair billows in the wind as your face shines with the same quality of the cameras capturing your essence on the red carpet.

Sunghoon is taken aback by you without hearing you speak a single word, and he suspects something devious brewing behind his manager’s eyes when he says, “She is.”

The nightclub is packed with D-list celebrities and upcoming starlets, ready to post to their respective social media accounts. With the right touch, the news will work its way to the trending page without fail.

Thankfully, Jay, Sunghoon’s manager, knows how to set the scene for a piece of tabloid fodder. It’s part of his job to make sure that, for better or worse, Sunghoon gets his time in the spotlight.

As for you, all you’re expected to do is mingle with your new “boyfriend,” look pretty in your little black dress, and set the trap. 

You asked your own manager, Momo, if you could bring one of the girls along to break the ice and make the “meet cute” look more believable, and both she and Jay agreed.

So here you are, sitting across from Yujin with a strawberry martini in one hand and your cellphone in the other, waiting for the signal.

“He is pretty cute. You can’t deny that.” Yujin scrolls through Sunghoon’s Instagram feed, multiple gym pics and rehearsal photos lining the grid of his main profile.

When Momo produced Jay’s offer to her, she marketed it to you as the perfect way for PrismHeart to skyrocket from simmering stardom into true mega-fame. All it took was a handful of white lies and scheduled meetups. No harm, no foul, right?

Like a devoted group leader, hands in your lap and a demure smile on your face, you said yes. You would do anything for your team and the girls who were your second family at this point. Not disclosing the truth was an easy thing to do, and nobody’s feelings would be sacrificed in the process.

It would also be a welcome distraction from the destruction of your last relationship. The back and forth with Jake proved to be too much on both your work and personal lives, 7 months of happiness leading to a slow and bitter end.

Maybe a cute boy with no attachments and some light flirting could be a nice way to bounce back into the game. Then, when a real relationship would be possible for you again, you’d be ready.

You nod and take another sip of your drink, the alcohol leaving a burning aftertaste in your throat. “He is,” you agree. “He’s terrible at time management, though, clearly.”

Yujin rolls her eyes and continues scrolling. “Take off your micromanaging hat tonight, babe. Have fun. Kiss your new fake beau.”

“Say it louder,” you chide, lips on the rim of your glass again. The drink was taking the edge off of your nerves, but you still couldn’t shake the desire to make sure things went perfectly.

For both work and personal reasons, you need this to go off without a hitch.

A second later, your phone buzzes on the top of the bar. Sunghoon’s face lights up your screen, along with his message.

[Received at 10:46 PM]: Walking in with Jungwon. U?

You internally roll your eyes at the cryptic text. Jake was so good at making his messages personable, and although you could put a dagger in him for breaking your heart, the least you can do is recognize that was one of his better qualities.

You just hope Sunghoon is better in person than he is on the page. Or phone, so to speak.

[Sent at 10:48]: By the bar with Yujin.

Sunghoon saunters through the club’s double doors, the notorious half of Into Eden smiling ear to ear with his friend Jungwon in tow. Your ex Jake and Jungwon hung in similar circles due to their statuses as popular actors, but Jungwon was always nice when you ran into him.

He greets you with a smile but stops short when he sees your best friend, his cheeks turning a red hue. “Sorry, you’re just even more beautiful in person.”

As Yujin stutters over her next words, sharing a similar blush with the man in front of her, Sunghoon saunters over to your side and grins. As you look closer at him, you can discern the pink around his irises and the flimsy edges of his smile.

He’s high. So much rides on his cooperation on this plan and he’s fucking high?

“Park Sunghoon, pleased to meet you.” He gives your hand a sloppy kiss when your fingers link together in a handshake, and you retract immediately. Sunghoon pays no mind to your distaste, immediately ordering a beer and downing it the second it slides across the bar.

“Do you think you should be mixing alcohol with…whatever’s in your system?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Sunghoon winks at you and scoots closer on his barstool to you, tracing the skin of your thighs with his eyes. “I think this is the part where we dance?”

You scoff and down what’s left of your martini. You flag the bartender down for another, incredulous but trying to mask your anger with another drink. “Maybe we should get to know each other first?”

“What’s there to know? Jay gave me all the cliffnotes this morning. And we can just learn as we go, you know?”

A part of you wants to run into this without a roadmap, but it’s not in your nature. And it would be a lot easier to let yourself relax if you knew you were walking into this plan with a person as serious as you are about it.

But no, you get a stoned rockstar as your new “boyfriend” instead.

The bartender hands you your second martini, and you hop off the barstool with it in your hand. You take a light sip before you motion to the dance floor. “Let’s go.”

You have a tight grasp on the stem of your glass as Sunghoon takes your free hand to walk towards the dance floor. You notice Yujin and Jungwon dancing in a far corner together, the two of them hitting it off incredibly well.

Your hips sway to the song, your body trying to follow the music that’s thumping loudly through the speakers. It’s a remix you don’t recognize, but you enjoy it nonetheless. You smile as the pulse of the song thrums through your veins, your nerves at their lowest since arriving at the club.

What you don’t expect is for Sunghoon’s hands to settle on your hips, pulling you closer to fall into rhythm together. He moves well considering his prowess lies in rock rather than pop.

“You’re a pretty good dancer for a bassist,” you tease.

“I have a lot of talents,” he remarks back, the club lights gleaming across his face in purple and pink strobes.

He looks better in person than in all the interviews and tabloids you read prior to meeting him tonight. In your efforts to gain intel for the meetup, you couldn’t deny how well he cleaned up, even when he acted poorly.

The slosh of your drink makes you stop dancing for a second, and you laugh. “Probably shouldn’t have brought this on the–”

Sunghoon captures your lips in a searing kiss. The taste of ale lingers on your tongue the longer both of your mouths are linked. He is a good kisser, no doubt, but where does he get off assuming you wanted him to? All you had to show for tonight so far was some small conversation. Is that his typical green light to dive straight into making out? 

You immediately push him off, the contents of your martini glass spilling on him in the process. “What the hell?” Sunghoon asks, touching his jacket and feeling the leather soaked in sugary liquor.

You’re stunned at how brash yet nonchalant he is about what he just did, caring more for his clothes than your personal space that he just invaded. 

“You’re such a bastard,” you whisper loud enough for only Sunghoon to hear, his eyes immediately widening at your words. You walk away from him stunned and drop the glass on the counter where you were initially sitting. Not wanting to take Yujin away from her success of a night, you run outside to a handful of cameras flashing and your failure coating your skin.

Late into the next morning, you sip a hefty cup of tea for breakfast as you scroll through your latest mentions. The socials are blowing up from your recent outing with Yujin, Jungwon, and Sunghoon. You half expected to wake up to the ending of your career, but to your relief, the event was nothing short of a success.

Despite your embarrassment on the drive home and sadness before bed last night, your followers and many of Into Eden’s fans seem to have taken the bait. Some took shots of you exiting the nightclub, Sunghoon following shortly behind with a smile on his face. They also edited short clips of the two of you on the dance floor. Incredibly, none of them caught your mishap with your martini on video.

Better yet, they found the prospect of you and Sunghoon not just exciting but fitting somehow.

@edenenthusiast: hope she can whip him back into shape, miss the old hoon.

@sunghoonsluv71: sad he’s off the market but they’re actually cute together??? 

@prismshearts_09: she looks so happy!! suck it @jaeyun_sim.

In the next second, your phone blows up from a mention on Sunghoon’s most recent story. Your handle is hidden in a far corner of the black screen but the words plastered across the screen say everything they need to.

“Love at first spill? 🍸😏”

All of your band members and Momo light up your group chat with their excitement. In the chaos of the chat, you thumb-up a text from Yujin about Jungwon giving her his number.

Then, a single text pops up from Sunghoon that makes your glee transform into anxiety.

[Received at 11:52 AM]: Lunch on me? :/

You feel a part of your chest flutter. There’s a hope that maybe in the light of day you’ll get a chance to see the real Sunghoon. No drugs, no cameras, no need to impress. Maybe if he’s away from the attention, he’ll realize you deserve an apology for his actions.

[Sent at 11:56 AM]: Lunch and dinner or get lost.

You see the quick succession of bubbles following your text, his response hot on the heels of your last message that he reacts to with a laughing emoji.

[Received at 11:58] I think I can handle that.

You sit across from Sunghoon on the balcony of his apartment, two BLTs cooked to perfection on the patio table in front of you. He kept to his word, laying a spread of food out for you in exchange for your time.

You quirk an eyebrow. “Did you make these yourself?” You ask.

Sunghoon shakes his head, bashful. “Jay helped me. Not only is he a great manager, but he’s actually an amazing cook.”

You nod and smile, grabbing a bite as Sunghoon’s blush and your quiet chewing fills the silence.

“I wanted to say that yesterday got out of hand, and I shouldn’t have gotten wasted before meeting you. It was unprofessional, and I apologize.”

 You tap your fingers on the wicker table, your gut warning you to be cautious. “Did Jay tell you to say that?”

Sunghoon stutters on whatever words he planned to say next and quickly runs a hand through his hair. “I mean it, what difference does it make? I really am sorry, okay?”

You roll your eyes. “So you’re apologizing using someone else’s script? That’s supposed to make me believe you?”

Sunghoon scoffs and presses his palms to the table. “You’re fucking impossible, you know that?”

“I’m impossible because you got loaded and decided to stick your tongue down my throat? Oh, and I bet the next words out of your mouth were going to be how stubborn I am because I expected you to actually want to make up for how shit you acted last night.”

“Wow. Are you just mad because you didn’t expect to like me kissing you that much?” Sunghoon says his question with a pestering but sultry tone, the words completely rhetorical.

You huff and make your exit from the table. “Fuck this, I should never have come.”

Before you can walk away from the balcony, Sunghoon takes your wrist in his hand. His eyes express his frustration, his mouth in a grim line. “Don't leave, please. Can we just pretend that the last twelve hours never happened? Start from scratch. We both know we need each other here.”

You take a deep breath and cross your arms, walking back to your side of the table with a stone expression. “I think it’s a good idea to create some rules for…this arrangement.”

Sunghoon stares you down, still irritated but agreeable. “I’m all ears.”

“First and foremost,” you start, “whenever we’re scheduled to meet, no drugs. Do it in your spare time.”

Sunghoon nods. “That’s fair.”

“Second, no PDA unless there’s people around that need to notice it. And we have to agree on it before either one of us initiates anything.”

“What,” Sunghoon laughs, “like a secret bat signal?”

“Sure Batman,” you jest. Does he have to joke every time he decides to speak? Against your better judgment, a small piece of you finds it endearing.

He ponders the thought and then taps two fingers to the side of his neck. “How’s that?”

“Fine,” you agree. “Do you have any other rules you think we should add?”

The word “we” slips so easily from your tongue. In spite of the way he stirs up every ounce of frustration inside of you, already you see him on the same team as you. That has to be a good sign.

He rubs his index finger and thumb under his chin, half teasing but half reflecting on what he could add.

“Only one more thing,” Sunghoon says. “When we don’t have plans to spend time together, what we do in our private time is our business.”

You raise your hands. “Not a problem for me.”

Sunghoon reaches his hand across the table. “Deal?”

What the outcome of your arrangement will be besides the expected results remains up in the air. Whether it will reap what you want is really anyone’s guess. But if it means you do your duties as a good bandmate, you will take whatever comes at you.

You grasp his fingers in yours, shaking them gingerly. “Deal.”

Into Eden’s most popular song “Salvation” plays on the stereo speakers in the photography studio of Vogue magazine’s headquarters. The two men on set act incredibly comfortable, Heeseung’s arm wrapped around Sunghoon’s shoulder. The older musician’s red hair is stark against the chosen clothing for the shoot, but he makes it work.

He always does, Sunghoon thinks with a repressed sigh. His hair is slicked back in contrast to Heeseung’s messy mop of wind-blown tresses, creating the contrast between the two that highlights the shoot’s concept. TWO SOULS COLLIDE: THE LEADING MUSICIANS OF NEW AGE ROCK.

Sunghoon stays still for the next shot of him and Heeseung, but he can’t help himself from following you with his eyes when you enter the studio with a bag of breakfast treats and a to-go tray of coffees.

He did not expect to see you show up to his photoshoot, and Jay didn’t give him any warning for the event on his schedule being one you would share space with. He’s not against it though. In the sea of gray suits and media lackeys, you’re a breath of fresh air. You have already taken his attention away from the mundane nature of the task he’s assigned to complete today.

He can’t deny that Jay’s plan has already made shifts to his image in the public eye. It’s only been a week of public paparazzi candids and social media mentions shared between his and your accounts, and fans are eating it up.

And, though he might never say it out loud, something about your presence levels him in a way Jay’s and Heeseung’s doesn’t. He quantifies it to you also understanding the pressures of the music industry, the feeling of someone outside of his circle who can relate to him foreign but welcome. Your relationship may be manufactured, but he has to look at the positives it’s already created in his life.

Jay runs over to you with a bright smile. “You’re an angel, thank you.”

You grin and take a breakfast sandwich from the bag to give to Sunghoon’s manager. “Least I could do for a member of my boyfriend’s camp.”

Jay winks over the rim of his coffee cup and goes back to the photographer’s side, overseeing the shots with a bit of sausage sticking out of his mouth.

You give Sunghoon a slight wave and stay a few steps away from the large lights capturing the shadows and highlights on the men’s faces.

You haven’t met Heeseung up to this point, so interacting with Sunghoon’s bandmate will add a new dimension to your “relationship.”

In contrast with Sunghoon, Heeseung exudes seriousness in every movement. You’re unsure if it’s because of his maturity or dedication to everything he does, similar to yourself, but it shows in the way the men stand next to each other. Where Sunghoon is fluid like water, transforming into whatever he needs to be, Heeseung is stoic and certain of himself, solid like a stone.

You wonder how such different people managed to be friends and bandmates. Then again, you’re in a group with four other girls, and your personalities are anything but similar.

“Alright, I think it’s time for individual shots. Mr. Park, we’ll do yours first!”

Heeseung runs to his chair in front of the vanity. It’s set up in a corner of the room for retouching his and Sunghoon’s hair and makeup. He beckons you over with a polite smile, and you oblige the silent request.

“Sorry I haven’t been able to greet you since you came in. You know how it is,” Heeseung’s lips turn up at the corners as his makeup artist dabs at his forehead with a clean powder puff. “I’m Lee Heeseung.”

You respond with your name and shake his hand, your nerves spiking. You expected Heeseung to be both attractive and polite, but it’s another level in person compared to his media appearances.

“Have you always been interested in music?” You ask.

Heeseung nods, still smiling. “Since I was old enough to hold a guitar. Both of us, actually. I don’t know if Hoon told you, but he was the one that started the band.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “No, he didn’t say anything at all. He doesn’t really talk about his work. Neither of us do.”

Heeseung laughs. “Yeah. He’s a closed book a lot of the time. But he’s got a great soul, he just doesn’t let a lot of people see it.”

You look down at your shoes, smiling. “I’d offer you a bagel, but I think the team would kill me if I let you mess up your makeup.”

Heeseung releases another chuckle. “Save it for Hoon, then. Make it a little lunch date.” When the photographer’s assistant calls for Heeseung, he winks at you and leaps off of the chair.

Sunghoon finds you in the next second, smiling warmly before taking the bag of food from your hands. “Please tell me there's an everything bagel in here.”

You nod. “With extra cream cheese.”

He beckons you to the free armchairs on the opposite side of the makeshift vanities. You sit down across from him and find your croissant in the bag, ready to eat it whole at this point.

“You could’ve eaten before I finished. You didn’t have to wait for me.”

You shrug and bite into your food. “Force of habit. I always make sure the girls eat before I do.”

He nods and takes a chunk out of his own bagel. “Like a good leader. I knew Jay liked you for a reason.”

You scoff, practically choking on the egg and cheese in the croissant. “Says the guy who started this whole thing. You didn’t tell me you were the one who made Into Eden.”

Sunghoon shrugs, his mood shifting. “It never came up. Besides, Heeseung took the proverbial role of leader a long time ago, anyway.”

You shake your head, picking at your food. “I bet everyone would give you more of a lead if you proved you could handle the responsibility.”

 Sunghoon is taken aback, there’s no doubt about that. When has he not been serious and responsible about his commitment to the band, save for the past year?

Sure, he hasn’t made great decisions recently, especially with his new…habit, simply put. But he’s never stopped caring, no matter how the tabloids turned on him or Heeseung overshadowed him when he began to fall short.

Maybe he needs to put some good will back in, even if he feels justified for being jaded at this point in his career.

Wanting to turn the tide of the conversation, Sunghoon spots a random guitar in the studio and grabs it eagerly. He sits back down with a newfound interest, plucking the strings to ensure it’s in tune.

You laugh and stuff the crumb-filled wrapper in the bag. “Avoiding the subject, I see.”

“Hey,” Sunghoon defends himself. “When I see a guitar, it’s only natural to play it.” He strums a few chords, satisfied. “Have any requests?”

You lift your shoulders, intrigued.

Sunghoon begins playing the opening strings of Oasis’s “Champagne Supernova.” It’s a bittersweet song, one with a beautiful instrumental but somber lyrics. Seems fitting for the man playing it somehow.

He begins to sing the first lines, the fried timbre of his vocals lulling you into a state of relaxation. By the introduction of the first chorus, you’re singing along with him, matching his tone with your saccharine harmonies. 

It makes the crowd around you pause to look on for a moment, mesmerized at two stars seeming to shine at the same second. They must resign it to fate, two talents coming together in music and love, unaware of the reality of your situation.

Or maybe, they see the shades of something blossoming that you and Sunghoon have yet to recognize yourselves.

You flip through the newest issue of Vogue, excited to read Sunghoon’s part of the interview. It takes a handful of turns before you make it to the spread, the interview intertwined with shots of Heeseung and Sunghoon clad in V-necks and leather jeans. Their outfits coincide with the grunge aesthetic. You flip through the discussion about their newest album, “Under the Sun,” until one specific segment catches your eye.

VOGUE: So, it’s safe to assume this new album is about dedication, or the commitment, to one’s desires. It shows in your new single off this album, “All For You,” as you said Heeseung, but how do you feel about it Sunghoon?

PSH: I agree with Hee a hundred percent. Sometimes you don’t realize how devoted you are to something or someone until you’re caught in the middle of it. And sometimes that can be beautiful and intoxicating, a reason to go on that keeps you alive in so many ways.

VOGUE: I sense something or someone on your mind besides the album.

PSH: You could say that.

You left hours before the boys began their interview. It could’ve been a million things on his mind when the writer made note of his reaction, but you know the online forums and fandoms must be exploding over the snippet.

“Whatcha reading?” Ningning asks. She walks into your kitchen, looking for a cup to fill with ice water. She may live a few apartments down, but she never fails to use her status as the youngest to barge in whenever she wants.

You show her the front cover when she turns her head back in your direction. “His new article just came out.”

“Any mentions of his new love affair?” She wiggles her eyebrows and you threaten to throw the magazine at her head.

“Drop it already, Ning! It’s not real anyway.”

“Come on. The guy is cute, you’re cute, have some fun with it!”

“I would if he didn’t have so many walls up.”

“Like you don’t?” Ningning tests the waters, the air suddenly thick with tension. “You’re always so serious. You know we love you, but you never let yourself loosen up.”

You sigh and drop the magazine on the counter. “There’s a lot of responsibilities on the line. I can’t just shuck them whenever I want.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to worry every second about them, or about us. Let go sometimes,  babe.”

Before you can respond, your doorbell rings. You’re both surprised, not expecting anyone to show up today, but you answer the door anyway. 

Sunghoon stands before the threshold with a bag of takeout and a shy smile. His eyes are not bloodshot, his outfit looks purposefully put together, and his posture tells you he’s on a mission. “Figured since you brought food last time, I oughta return the favor.”

Ningning saunters up behind you with a smirk, arms still crossed. “Speak of the devil.”

“Easy, that’s not me,” he jokes. “Probably more of an associate.”

Ningning laughs and takes the cue to exit the apartment. “Have fun, you two, but not too much fun!”

You press your hand to the back of your neck, the heat on your cheeks rising at an alarming rate. “Didn’t know we were supposed to meet today.”

“We weren’t,” he admits.

A corner of your mouth quirks up. “I thought whatever we did in our private time was our business. You’re using the space in your schedule to hang out with me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Sunghoon bops you on the nose with his index finger and drops the bag of takeout on the counter. “I didn’t know what you’d like so I got a little bit of everything. Wontons, crab rangoons, egg rolls…I guess I kinda went overboard, didn’t I?”

You shake your head, the other part of your mouth turning up until your face cracks into a full-blown smile. The uncertainty on his face, the wind-swept hairdo covering a part of his eyes, the rapid motions of his hands taking the containers of food out of the bag.

In any other circumstance, you would consider this an awkward but real first date. And because your heart is not functioning in tandem with your head, you feel the flutters in your stomach all the same. “I’ll eat whatever you brought.”

The sun sets into the clouds surrounding the apartment complexes near yours, the high-rise bathed in orange and yellow hues from the day coming to a close. Your stomach is still overwhelmingly full from the food Sunghoon brought over, but you’re in a comfortable space as you both sit on your couch together watching another episode of New Girl.

“Can I ask you something?”

Sunghoon turns to you, his smile not meeting his eyes. “‘S a free country. But I get to ask you one also. Quid pro quo and all that.”

You ponder how to word your next sentence, not wanting to cross an unspoken boundary. “Why did you start using drugs?”

He sighs, rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans. “Honestly, I didn’t know the reason until I stopped taking them a few weeks ago…when we started this thing. It helped to take the edge off of things, off of me always worrying about how I was measuring up to Hee. And then they just helped with everything else, until they didn’t.”

Your heart aches at his answer, the explanation one you did not expect to be so in-depth. Like most starlets and singers at your age, it just seemed to be around and available to take whenever you wanted. Not that you or any of the girls in PrismHeart partook, but it was still there.

You didn’t realize that his proclivity started from a place of genuine need for something else. Anything else, if it meant he could escape.

 “My turn,” Sunghoon says, turning his full attention to you on the couch. “Why do you never let yourself relax?”

His question and Ningning’s words haunt the deep recesses of your brain in an instant, the unspoken fears inside of you coming to a head as you try to create an answer. “Being able to sing professionally has been something I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember. I guess somewhere deep inside I’m worried if I don’t take it seriously, I’ll lose it forever.”

Sunghoon ruminates on your answer before he traces the outline of your hand with his fingers, the touch setting off sparks on your skin. “We’re more alike than I thought.”

You laugh and throw the pillow under your back at him. “What? It’s not like I’m a robot or something.”

He chuckles and stands up from the couch. “Okay, well, either way, we need to liven the mood again.” Sunghoon scrolls through a playlist on his phone and finds a song that immediately makes his face lighten up. “Perfect.”

He connects his phone to your Bluetooth speakers, the guitar riff of The Darkness’s “I Believe In A Thing Called Love” cutting through the silence from moments before.

“What the hell-“

“Stop thinking for five minutes and dance with me or so help me God.” His eyebrows quirk up in an unspoken challenge, and before you can stop yourself and use your logical brain to think first and then decide, you’re up off of your feet with your best cockney accent to match the lead singer’s tone.

You may be off key and breathless, and Sunghoon may look ridiculous as he riffs on an air-guitar, but it’s the first night in years where you’ve truly felt free. No obligations or restrictions are there to stop you from doing what you please.

That night when you go to sleep, you save the ridiculous song to your Apple Music account and think about Sunghoon’s smile before shutting your eyes.

The flash of cameras is nothing new, especially on a red carpet. What adds a unique dynamic to the situation is Sunghoon standing by. He watches you pose for the cameras, the press doting over you for a shot of your outfit and presence at Into Eden’s album launch party.

His eyes on you burn brighter than the lights strung across the space. You blush to yourself and keep smiling for the multitudes of paparazzi. The next minute, Sunghoon puts a hand on the small of your back gently to lead you in the direction of the club a dozen feet or so away.

“Sunghoon, one picture! Just one!”

You turn your eyes to him and press two fingers to your neck, feigning it off as nervousness in front of the public. Sunghoon smirks and pulls you into his chest, letting the vultures beg for more as he holds you close.

He puts a hand up to say goodbye and walks away with you, palms intertwined. Even as you enter the club, seeing Heeseung and his girlfriend Ryujin waiting for you both, Sunghoon doesn’t let go.

“Do you want a drink?” Sunghoon asks, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

“No thank you.”

“Who are you and what have you done to Sunghoon?” Ryujin asks, mystified at his newfound etiquette.

“He’s still around, Ryu. Just trying to be on his best behavior for once.” Sunghoon ruffles her hair before walking away to greet Jay at the bar riddled with executives.

She huffs and fixes the flyaways Sunghoon caused, but smiles at you when she’s done. “Whatever you’re doing to him, keep it up. I haven’t seen him this way in forever.”

Clearly Ryujin’s not aware of the circumstances of yours and Sunghoon’s relationship, but something has changed in him both in and out of the public eye. Many posts and headlines showcased your numerous outings and discreet meetups in the weeks you’ve spent together. However, there were more moments shared between you that the public had no insight on.

Nights in the recording studio, rehearsals for PrismHeart that turned into goofing off between the both of you, and rides on his motorcycle that almost made your head spin.

It’s hard to tell now where the truth stops and the lies begin, and vice versa. How can you tell yourself the smiles that he gives you aren’t genuine? How do you respond to Ryujin without feeling like your answers are coming from the depths of your heart?

“Babe, there’s that director! Let’s go say hi!” Ryujin runs over to the eponymous man with her hand tightly wrapped around Heeseung’s. He smiles apologetically before being stolen away.

You wait for Sunghoon to come back, but not before you witness Yujin and Jungwon linked arm in arm, followed by the last two people you expected to show up tonight.

Jake’s hair is newly dyed, the ash blond of his hair striking under the lights of the club. He doesn’t notice you, only shakes hands with Jungwon and continues on his path to the bar. His date and Sunghoon’s ex Yeji has her body wrapped tightly around his, even as they walk through the crowds of people.

It’s been months since you last saw him, and in spite of your desire to stay and show your pride for Sunghoon and his newest album, you want nothing more than to run out of the club and never come back. Your heartbeat quickens, the thumps of it rattling your chest with no guarantees it’ll calm down.

Like a magnet, Sunghoon is by your side immediately and looking into your eyes with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Jake’s here. Yeji’s with him.”

Sunghoon scans the crowd and lands on the two at the bar. Jake catches the younger man’s eyes and lifts his drink in congratulations, a smug smirk on his face.

Before he can walk over to the idiot’s spot, you hold onto his arm tightly to stop him. “He’s not worth it, Hoon. Trust me.”

Sunghoon knew enough of your history with the C-list actor from your own admissions and your friend’s anecdotes to want to kick the guy’s teeth in. Jake didn’t just make it harder for you to make your relationship a priority in your life, but he made every issue between the two of you your fault somehow.

And as far as Sunghoon could tell, no-one could be more devoted to the things that mattered to them than you.

“Why the fuck would he show up here?” Sunghoon asks nobody in particular, still fuming at the man’s audacity and his effect on your wellbeing. “The least I can do is show him the door.”

“No, please.” You grip onto the lapels of Sunghoon’s suit jacket, emphasizing your need to have him close. If he leaves you, you might fall apart. “Dance with me?”

Sunghoon’s anger transforms, lightly scoffing at your request with a soft smile to follow. “I don’t think this song is good to dance to, love.”

The term of endearment makes your knees weak, the word on his lips making your fingers tremble against the fabric of his jacket. Yes, the remix of one of Into Eden’s new songs “No Doubt” is more suited for a mosh pit than a couple wanting to dance, but you don’t care. “Dance with me anyway.”

You lead him to the center of the club. Both your worlds look on as you hold him close and try to match the rhythm of the remix. It’s a pointless endeavor, the beat changing right when you think you’ve mastered it. Your attempts to follow make Sunghoon smile. “If it helps, I’m not a big fan of this version of the song. Glad it’s just a B side track.”

You roll your eyes and grin. You rest your head on his chest, deciding to sway softly instead of thinking about the music pumping or the strangers’ passing glances.

“I think we’re breaking rule number two, love,” Sunghoon whispers into the crown of your head.

You move to stare up at him, running two fingers to the side of his neck exposed over the collar of his shirt. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

In the haze of blinding lights and blank faces, Sunghoon’s is the only one that matters as he bends down and presses your lips to his.

In contrast to the first kiss you ever shared, this one is not entwined with alcohol or unwelcome shock. It’s ingrained with weeks worth of tension and words that you could not read before, the lines between your agreement now crystal clear. 

You gladly accept his mouth on yours, your body on fire when his tongue touches the roof of your mouth. His hands slip down to the curve of your hips, squeezing the skin through the confines of your clothes.

The sounds of shuttering cameras and surprised voices intercut with the music are of no priority to you. All that matters is that this kiss never ends. That the feelings you’ve been harboring never have to be concealed again.

Sunghoon walks into Jay’s office with a heavy heart, unsure how to present the situation he will unfold to his manager. He’s been ducking your calls and texts, unsure how to go about his next moves before discussing his predicament with the person he trusts the most in this world, save for Heeseung.

“I could kiss you!” Jay says when he sees Sunghoon walk in, pointing at him with pure glee.

“Please don’t,” Sunghoon responds.

 “Streams of ‘All for You’ hit an all-time peak last night, the projected numbers are predicting this record to be your best selling one since the first album, and you’re a golden boy in the press again!” Relief washes over Jay’s face, the success of his plan evident in the easy posture of his body. “Not gonna say I’m a god, but I'm definitely a genius.”

Sunghoon claps his hands together, giving his manager the praise he deserves. “That’s great, Jay. Really.”

“You should be happy, man! We’re on the straight and narrow again. Now I just have to come up with some sweet and easy way to end the whole thing and we’re good to go.”

Sunghoon wants to interject, but Jay continues on with his thoughts, letting them run free out loud. “It should be pretty easy. Just gotta find another event to have you guys attend and then we’ll pull the plug—“

“Jay, I can’t.” Sunghoon blurts out the three words that have been on his mind since he walked into the label’s building. His heart rests in his throat as he holds nothing back. “I like her. Really.”

Jay stops walking around the room and stuffs his hands in his pockets. He blows the hair in front of his face, puzzled. “Well, that’s a pickle.”

“I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” Sunghoon admits, because it’s the truth. He never intended on actually finding you endearing, funny, attractive, all the positive adjectives he can come up with in his mind. “And then the album party happened…and I just can’t.”

Jay sits down at his desk, his face becoming a mask of professionalism. “You know that’s not possible, Sunghoon. I mean, think about it. She has her band, you have yours. It would be a disaster trying to keep it up. The only reason Hee and Ryu are still together is because she isn’t involved in any of this shit.”

Sunghoon shakes his head, vaguely listening to his manager’s words but not giving them weight. “You don’t know her like I do.”

Jay shrugs. “You may be right. But you could barely handle a relationship, real or fake, when this started. Do you think a real one is manageable right now?”

Sunghoon leans back into the armchair, some of his manager’s words hitting too close to home to deny. Would he truly be able to keep a true relationship with you alive when he was always under public pressure and eventual scrutiny?

Sunghoon walks out of the office with more questions than answers, more unsure than he was before.

You sit in your bed, undecided on whether you should try to text Sunghoon again or not. The downpour outside reminds you of the onslaught of emotions pooling in your gut, a mixture of hurt and anxiety weighing heavy on your heart.

He kisses you because you both wanted him to and then he decides to leave you without a single word for days? What kind of sense does that make?

Yujin and Ningning want to cut his heart out with a rusty knife, but you assure them you’re as confused as he probably is, unsure where to go from this point forward.

If only he could give you some signal he’s still alive, you would feel more at ease.

A knock at your door makes you run to answer it, expecting Ningning to show up with Sour Patch Kids and the newest film on your To Be Watched list. “Ning, you better have ‘Bend It Like Beckham’ in your hand or you’re not coming in!”

You open the door to Sunghoon soaked through from the rain. “Sorry I came empty handed.” Sunghoon trails his eyes down your body, smirking at the Hello Kitty pattern of your cotton shirt and shorts. “Nice outfit.”

You shake your head, incredulous that he’s at your door without any word to warn you. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you,” he says honestly. He walks through the door and makes you back into the hallway wall. His wet body traps you against him and the walkway. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

You give him a lopsided grin. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

He chuckles, swiping his wet hair off his face. “I know, I’m an idiot.”

“And a jerk.”

“And a jerk,” he parrots, eyes full of sincerity. “But I want to be better for you. I want to be worthy of being yours.”

The confession makes your body buckle. The breath that was still in your lungs escapes in one gust from your lips. How can he think he isn’t worth it after all the vulnerability he’s shown you? “You already are, Hoon.”

He places his hands on either side of your face tenderly, his mouth inching closer. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

You mirror his expression, covering his hands with your own. “I might have been told that once or twice.”

His lips collide with yours, the action soft but the emotions charged behind the kiss heavy. Where that kiss in the nightclub was chaste compared to this one, you can only imagine how the rest of the night will play out.

Sunghoon discards his jacket onto the floor, your hands automatically sliding across his damp shoulder blades. Your touch makes him shudder, a moan escaping his throat. “You’re so warm.”

You smirk. “My bed’s warmer.”

The tangle of clothes and tongues leads to your position in his lap on your bed, the comforter discarded somewhere in the rush to get him to sit down and hold you closer.

Your body writhes against his, his pants the only thing left that he’s wearing. He holds you tighter against him, groaning against your lips. “Fuck, are you trying to get me to come already?”

You blush and kiss his neck. “Wasn’t my intention, but I don’t mind.”

Sunghoon chuckles. He flips you onto your back on the mattress, taking your bra off to reveal your breasts. Your nipples perk up once the air hits your skin, and Sunghoon can’t fight the groan that escapes his lips. “You’re fucking beautiful. I could stare at your tits all day.”

Most compliments make you feel like the person giving them is obligated to, not because it’s true. But when you hear such explicit thoughts leave Sunghoon’s mouth, you believe every word he says.

He covers your body with his own, taking one nipple into his mouth as he kneads the neglected breast with one hand. Expertly, he uses his other hand to slide into your underwear, finding your clit in record time.

He swirls his index and middle finger around the bud, using your essence that has already pooled in your panties as lubricant.

You mewl, grasping Sunghoon’s hair in your fingers for purchase on something, anything.  “Fuck, that feels good.”

Sunghoon releases your nipple with a pop, his mouth trailing up the valley of your breasts to stop at your lips. “I’m not done yet, darling.”

Suddenly, he has both hands pulling your underwear down your legs, leaving the fabric dangling on the curve of your ankle. He wastes no time settling his face at the apex of your thighs.

He kisses your clit, making your body buck into his face at the quick act. By the time his tongue is inside of you, prodding deliciously at your walls, you’re practically at the brink of an orgasm.

“You like that?” Sunghoon asks, his voice wicked against your pussy, the vibrations of his mouth reverberating against your skin. “Like how I stretch you open, love?”

You nod vigorously. “Yes, Hoon, you know I do.”

He licks a long stripe up your center, from your perineum to the hood of your clit. “I have to be inside you right now, darling. But I promise, I’ll make you come on my tongue later.”

You clench down on nothing, eager to have his body conjoined with yours. He takes his jeans and boxers off in one motion, his cock long and thick. You want nothing more than to take him in your mouth, feel the taste of him on your lips, but you’re too excited for what’s to come when you look in his devilish eyes.

He settles on top of you once again, certain he’s prepped you enough for him to enter you. He looks into your eyes for confirmation, and you kiss his lips to emphasize your eagerness.

He slips inside without issue, his girth stretching you more than his tongue did. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, a curse flying from your mouth when he fills you completely.

“That’s it, baby,” he says, his voice anchored to the skin of your neck. He can practically see the outline of himself on your lower belly protruding through the skin. “Feel all of me.”

His hips push himself in and out of you, his tempo slow and torturous. The rational part of you thinks he’s only doing this for your comfort, but you know him better than most deductions of logic.

 Sunghoon knows you want him to go faster from the feeling of your nails digging into his back and your moans in the shell of his ear. But because he loves to tease, he’ll drag this out for as long as he can.

Until he hears you beg for more, that is. And you don’t mind groveling for what you want.

“Hoonie,” you plead, trying hard to meet his hips with your own for more force. “Please fuck me harder.”

Sunghoon kisses your forehead before saying, “Flip over for me, love. All fours.”

You do as he commands. Once you’re in an acceptable position, he slams himself inside of you.

The tempo barely compares to the previous one, giving you no time to do anything but relish in the pistoning of his hips as they make contact with yours. He smacks your ass for good measure, a moan escaping from your lips as he rubs the reddening skin.

“You wanted this,” He reminds you, smacking your other cheek harder as he drills himself in and out of you without any sense of stopping. “Wanted me to ruin you like a good little doll.”

“Yes, yes, please don’t stop,” you beg, stuffing your face into your pillow.

“None of that, my love.” He takes your hair into a makeshift ponytail to raise your head from the bed. “Want everyone to hear how good you feel, how well you’re being fucked. And I want them to know how beautiful you sound when you come.”

You’re limp by the time your orgasm rushes through you, your body wrecked to no end as you’re bathed in ecstasy.

“Holy shit,” you mewl, still feeling the aftershocks.

Sunghoon continues on with his relentless attention, his speed not letting up. He moves you against him and vice versa as he pleases, seeing the white coating of your essence on his cock as it disappears inside of you.

“Fuck, baby, where do you want me to come?” He asks, unsure how much longer he can hold it in.

“Inside of me, please.”

Don’t have to tell him twice.

A groan rips from Sunghoon’s throat as he releases inside of you, knowing his entire load is painting you white. If only he could see it, see how much of him is a part of you now.

He runs his hands up and down your body when you both come down from your highs. He kisses the reddened skin of your backside as he drags a washcloth between your legs, making sure not to overstimulate you in the process of cleaning you up.

You stare at each other, both in lingering rapture as well as disbelief. He hums a song into your ear as your eyelids flutter closed, the gravel in his voice the perfect lullaby.

You wake up the next morning to Sunghoon playing the chorus of “Wonderland,” PrismHeart’s first hit on the Top 100. You grin to yourself, holding the comforter close to your chest. “Trying to record that music video was such a pain.”

Sunghoon turns and smiles at your awoken form, putting the guitar against your side table. He takes you into his arms, kissing the top of your forehead. “How so?”

“They wanted us to do this themed shoot. White rabbits, decks of cards, me dressed as Alice. But every time the director tried filming the segment where we all went down the rabbit hole, it just kept going wrong.” You laugh and run your fingers across Sunghoon’s chest.

He chuckles and kisses your shoulder. “They didn’t think to try a different concept out?”

You shook your head. “We all agreed on it. Besides, the story is actually one of the inspirations for the songs. I read a lot of Lewis Carroll growing up, but I always loved ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’ the most.”

 Sunghoon runs his lips across your neck, his hand tracing circles into your waist. “A beautiful girl lost in her fantasies. Sounds nice,” he whispers, his breath creating delicious waves of heat across your skin.

It still doesn’t feel real, having him so close and naked against you in your bed. It could be a dream, one action of your subconscious playing on your deepest desires. And if that were true, you wish you would never come out of it, too happy for words to express.

When Sunghoon slips under the covers and between your legs once again, you wonder if the faraway place that held your dreams could hold a space for Sunghoon too.

It only takes one weekend for your happiness to come crashing down. Whatever you and Sunghoon were building is destroyed, all in the span of seventy-two hours.

Sunghoon is helping you cook a plethora of pancakes when your front door opens in a slam. Yujin and Jungwon bust through with worried expressions.

“You guys haven’t seen it, have you?” Yujin asks, frown lines etched on the sides of her mouth. She hands you her phone, and you and Sunghoon look over the article headline on the screen.

“‘INTO EDEN’ & ‘HEARTPRISM’ CAUGHT IN DATING SCHEME? IS IT REAL OR JUST FOR SHOW? EXCLUSIVE INSIDER TELLS ALL!”

Sunghoon pulls out his phone to call Jay, stalking into your bedroom. The conversation immediately bursts into a screaming match, the sounds of Sunghoon’s anger apparent.

“I swear to God, Jay, if you don’t find out whoever leaked this shit, I’m gonna have your head on a plate right next to theirs.”

Yujin and Jungwon grow quiet. With the news shared, your friend hugs you and walks out the door with Jungwon in tow. 

Sunghoon throws his phone onto your bed and walks back over to you, clearly worn out from the information he told Jay and the facts that were given to him by his manager.

You give him a close-lipped smile and envelop him into a hug. Sunghoon strokes your hair as you promise him, “It can be fixed, Hoon, and it will.”

A few days and one interview later prove that in spite of your hopes, not all things are fixable. 

Jay sets up a quick interview with Buzzfeed under the guise of discussing the new album. Everyone knows the sole reason for its existence is to quell the rumors of your false romance. It started that way, yes, but that doesn’t mean you or Sunghoon have to divulge that information to the public.

Heeseung and Sunghoon discuss the inspiration for their songs and the creative process behind the album. And when the questions come up regarding the rumors, Sunghoon plays them off with a smile.

“I’m not desperate enough to need to fake a relationship with anyone! How stupid would I have to be to do that?”

The interviewer quirks an eyebrow. “Are you saying your girlfriend was desperate to date you?”

“All I’m saying is that she pursued me that night in the club, and I was more than happy to see where it would go. And as they say, the rest is history.”

Heeseung looks at Sunghoon with wild eyes, his face practically screaming: That’s the best answer you could come up with?

When Sunghoon comes to your door that night to explain himself and how his words got twisted after the fact, you open the door only to throw the jacket he left in your apartment in his face.

“Desperate,” you seethe. “That’s the word you thought best described me, huh? So I guess I’m also stupid enough to want to date you, too?”

“No, I didn’t say that! I didn’t say any of those things!”

“So the interviewer was lying? Just another person or thing out to get you, right Sunghoon? When will you take responsibility for once and own up to the shit you said about us, about me?”

The girls huddle behind you as the tears stream down your face. “Just leave me alone, Sunghoon. Get away from me, use this as the out you wanted since day one.”

You slam the door in his face, not bothering to address the fist that slams into your door or Sunghoon’s pleas for the two of you to work this out.

His heart shatters from the force of his mess, a mess that not another soul can be blamed for but him.

Weeks roll by into painful silence, not a single exchange shared. You blocked him on all social media in hopes to avoid taglines of your name in relation to Sunghoon, but it’s of no use. The time comes where the girls have to keep your phone away in hopes you’ll stop searching online for comments related to the Buzzfeed article. “Babe, it’s not gonna do you any good,” Yujin sighs, powering off the device.

You nod, resigning yourself to the fact that whatever relationship you had is over, and there was no way to prevent it. You could not control or change Sunghoon anymore than he could change himself, and unfortunately, he was still in the process of doing so and shattered your heart in the quest to be a better man.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, tries everything to repair what he’s destroyed. He pleads with Jay to make contact through Momo, but his hands are tied. “She doesn’t want to talk to you, man. If I keep pestering Momo she’s going to have my ass, and not in a fun way. I’m sorry.”

The first few weeks of the tour comes and goes in a haze, Into Eden beginning their string of tour dates up and down the eastern coast of America. The only time Sunghoon is coherent enough to remember anything is in the mornings before he falls into another night of misery. He doesn’t go back to his usual routine of drugs and booze, keeping his promise religiously. Instead, he goes on in a blur, playing his instrument and performing his parts of the songs without a hitch.

He may not be happy, but at least he’s doing something he‘s always been meant to do.

One afternoon of rehearsals, Sunghoon decides to use his break time on the roof to his advantage. The sounds of the city, its car horns and speeding pedestrians, keep him sane for once in a long time. 

Of course, Heeseung has to ruin the solitude with his presence. “Sunwoo said I’d find you up here.”

“Sunwoo needs to learn to shut his mouth and focus on sound mixing,” Sunghoon grumbles, strumming the electric guitar in his lap and avoiding Heeseung’s gaze.

Heeseung sighs and sits next to his best friend. Both of their legs dangle over the edge of the building as they take in the bird’s eye view of New York City. “If you want to fix things, you just have to tell her how you feel.”

“Thanks, Yoda. Where would I be without you?”

Heeseung laughs at the young man’s ridiculous attitude, Sunghoon’s stubbornness unbroken since they became friends. “Just because you may not like my advice doesn’t mean I won’t give it to you.”

“What nuggets of wisdom could Mr. Perfect give me that I haven’t heard a thousand times over?”

“Is that what you think of me?” Heeseung runs a hand over his face, mystified at Sunghoon’s words. “I don’t know where or when you got this notion in your head that my life is perfect, but it’s complete bullshit.”

“Look at you and look at me, Hee. Everyone has said it for years. How much more talented you are, how much better you handle the spotlight compared to me, the list goes on and on.”

Heeseung closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Ryujin and I almost broke up last year.”

Sunghoon looks at his best friend, stunned. “Fuck, really?”

His best friend nods. “The last album’s release…I was never home. Ryujin kept getting on my case about us not spending time together, and we took a break for a few weeks. Once I realized how dumb it was for us to be fighting in the first place, things went back to normal. Well, normal and one relationship counselor later.” Heeseung sighs. “Jay kept it quiet from everyone, including you.”

“You could’ve told me,” Sunghoon says, guilty he had no clue.

“I know. But everyone has their secrets, just like you.” Heeseung emits another breath from the depths of his lungs. “I’m glad you know now, though.”

Sunghoon nods. The reality of what he’s done, coupled with the fact he’s spent so long misunderstanding one of the only people to love him so earnestly, hits him hard. Against his will, a few tears escape his eyes. “I really fucked up, Hee.”

Heeseung takes Sunghoon by the shoulder and makes Sunghoon look him in the eyes. “Then fix it. And let me help you.”

Sunghoon smiles, his first real smile in weeks. “How?”

Heeseung smirks. “I may not be as good at making plans as Jay, but I have a few ideas.”

The arena is alive with the sounds of the audience chanting and the instrumental intro to “All for You” exploding from the main stage and stadium speakers. Sunghoon tries to brush off his sudden nerves, the gravity of what he’s about to do shaking him to the core. It could go terribly wrong or do nothing to fix his problems, but he has to try, right?

Heeseung puts his hand on Sunghoon’s back, his bandmate providing the reassurance and stable ground he needs. “You got this, Hoon.”

The two men step on stage, the crowd screaming an octave higher when they take their instruments off their stands. Sunghoon raises a hand, motioning for the band to go quiet and the audience to silence their cheers.

“As you know, a few months ago I met a person that really matters to me. I want her and all of you to know that she still does. And if she’s listening somewhere tonight, she should know that this is for her.” 

Sunghoon begins playing the first chords of the song he’s written, nobody but Heeseung and the band aware of this change in the setlist. “This isn’t off of our new album, but I hope you all like it. It’s called ‘Lost in Wonderland.’”

Sunghoon begins the song on his guitar, Heeseung following behind him with backing vocals and a bass. The audience sways to the song, enraptured by the lyrics and melodies of the two musicians. Sunghoon pours his heart into the chorus, hoping by some luck that you’ll be able to hear this if nothing else.

“Maybe I’ll see you in Brooklyn, maybe I’ll see you in France. As long as the waves keep on rolling in. Things don’t always go the way they’re planned.

“Maybe I’ll see you in Jersey, maybe next year in Japan. Sometimes it’s so hard to find a friend, you’re the only one that just might understand.

“Lost in wonderland…”

By the time the final chorus rings out, the notes of Sunghoon’s guitar flying through the air gracefully, Sunghoon feels a million times lighter. All he can hope for now is that his plea will reach you amidst the sea of screaming fans.

Sunghoon runs off the stage as soon as the band finishes playing their last song, unable to hold his composure any longer. What stops him short from running to the green room is your face riddled with tears.

Sunghoon is unsure what to do next. Hold you in his arms and not let go, the last time he saw you being too long for him to accept as reality? Or confess what he said on stage was only a fragment of what he holds in his heart?

You beat him to the punch, your words coming out practically on top of each other. “Momo booked me a red eye to get here in time. She said Heeseung told her something had happened to you before the concert and—“

“I love you,” Sunghoon interrupts, the three words and eight letters no longer able to be kept inside of him.

You smile, eyes puffy but shining. Before you can ask him if what he just said is true, he repeats it until the words go stale, but they don’t. “I love you,” he says, “and I’m so sorry I made you think I didn’t.”

He runs to you immediately and kisses you with all the energy he has left in his body. The feeling of your mouth on his and your hands gripping tight onto his shirt fixes the part of him that broke the second you told him to get lost.

He knows he’ll never let you go again, never take you for granted for another second, and always remind you how much of you is home to him now.

When you part, you ask him, “Did you really write that song for me?”

Sunghoon smirks. “Every single line.”

You nod, running your thumb across his chin. “I love you, too.”

The resounding sound of the bustling audience leaving the venue and the crew packing up fills the background as you kiss Sunghoon again, making up for the time you lost, and preparing for all the times to come.

1 YEAR LATER

PrismHeart’s new album cover is plastered across the press wall. The red carpet is dyed neon pink to accentuate the colors of the title, “Love Language.” It’s a fitting name for the project in your opinion, many of the songs directly inspired by your personal life.

Yujin fusses with Jungwon’s suit once they’re away from the press wall, their matching ensembles making you smile. They’ve been together for as long as you and Sunghoon have at this point. Sharing your songs and thoughts for the newest record has been easy thanks to a fellow member being stupidly in love like you.

Sunghoon steps onto the carpet for his round of paparazzi photos. His suit and jewelry are completely black except for the shirt he picked out that coordinates with your dress. It may be too pink for his taste, but he’d do anything to make you happy, and he knows how to stay on theme for a special occasion.

You add on a few brownie points in your mind for how incredible he looks, the suit emphasizing the contours of his body that you know too well by now. 

When Sunghoon’s done with his pap walk, he has to hold himself back from running to you and kissing you hard on the mouth. His composure hangs by a thread through seeing the top of your chest accentuated by the sweetheart neckline of your bubblegum pink dress.

He holds you close and kisses you on the cheek, a halfway point between what he should do and what he wants to do to you, the audience around them be damned.

The audience in question goes crazy when his lips linger on your cheek, the candid shot perfect for the slew of tabloids that will come out tomorrow.

“You look fucking incredible, just so you know,” Sunghoon whispers in your ear.

You smack him on the chest softly, beaming. “Language, Hoon!”

“Hey, forgive me. Words of affirmation and all, y’know. My love language.” He winks, and you chuckle into his chest.

“You and your dad jokes. You’re lucky I love you.”

“I am,” he confesses, taking a free lock of hair between his fingers. “Very lucky.”

Before you can tell him you feel the same, you hear the sound of your name on an interviewer’s lips. You walk hand in hand with Sunghoon to greet her before she begins her parade of commentary, both of you all smiles as you discuss your latest single.

The show must go on, the multitude of cameras and questions second nature by now. But with Sunghoon’s hand in yours and your heart completely his, you know that none of the fame will compare to the happiness that his love has brought to your life.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy @monamipencil

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[bluecookies02]

Sub!Viktor x Reader

content warnings: NSFW, choking & edging (Viktor receiving), oral (reader receiving), he whines until you sit on his face basically.

very romantic and intimate despite a person literally being choked but yk its rly not my fault, it's his. [established relationship]

word count: ~1.5k

"You're being too loud Vik...can't keep it down hm?"

"Please....if we get another noise complaint I'm never ever gonna forgive you." he begs as you pause to let him talk.

It's an empty threat, but you need to take some accountability for your cruelty. You've been toying with him for ages at this point, reducing him to surprised yelps and desperate whines that are truly a symphony to your ears. To your neighbors? Not so much.

And you're everything if not merciful. Depending on who's asked of course.

You place your thumb across his chapped lips and dip the soft pad of your finger inside, dragging it gently across his teeth and gums before he gives you an appreciative hum, opening his mouth and nestling his tongue in place.

The adoration in your eyes is beautifully suffocating, his hips trashing against your other hand, chasing it, running away from it...all at once. He has been at your will for this whole night. He might die...at least that's how it feels.

You start up again, with no rush, often stopping to glide your hand and mouth across his freckled skin, soothing his trembles with sweet and mellow words whispered into his ear.

He feels...indecent. Drooling around your hand like that, muffling his moans with your thumb, biting and nibbling on it. You just sway it with the eager suckles of his tongue, sometimes even pressing on it firmly, letting his mouth hang open, spit smearing across his face.

He's teary eyed, overwhelmed yet hungry. Your voice pelts off of his sensitive neck...trails down his spine and spreads through his ribcage.

Warmth swirls inside his stomach, and for a moment it's scorching hot until he himself melts with it, pushing your pruney finger to the corner of his lips...he whines.

His face falls to the crook of your neck, burying itself there. You carefully lace your fingers through his soft hair, your pace on him just a fraction quicker.

You place a kiss to the shell of his ear, nuzzling the side of his head.

"You're right there aren't you...Need a little more?" you ask, your voice laced with affection, your movements consistent and precise.

"No-ah, no...just like this. Please...please just..." you nod, shuddering at the gentle bite on your shoulder.

"Allright, I've got you. Whatever you need..."

"Keep talkinghh."

It's a bossy demand, muffled because it's quickly cut off by another bite into your skin. The sunlight that peeks through the blinds paints his pale body in liquid gold, a pretty shade a fraction lighter than his eyes.

"You're so precious to me Vik...made for me are you not?" You can feel him throb, you can feel the heat of his body...ears dusted red, fingertips scraping down your back. Your heart hammers in your chest, anticipation building as you watch him.

"Show me how beautiful you are for me...Can you do that?" you ask in that honeyed voice of yours, raspy with your own greedy desire.

You tug on his hair, and he lets you pull him out of his hiding, your faces now close. He can feel your breath tickling his face.

"Let me see..." and when you ask so nicely, so honestly...how can he deny you anything, how can he doubt anything when the emotions that surge through him as your eyes lock leave no room for such a silly thing.

So he lets himself unfold, lets you see him in his most vulnerable, eyes clouded with unshed tears, brows furrowed and mouth agape.

You place your hand on his bared throat, squeezing around it, firm and practiced, holding it there until his eyes become slightly unfocused and wide.

He falls apart for you, gasping and chocking up on his words as he starts spilling onto your hand, curling in on himself in ways he can't be convinced are attractive.

"Yes precious, just like that, don't be shy" you encourage, letting him fuck your hand thoroughly, giving every last ounce of his strength to you, for you.

You let go of his throat then, just a second before he's about to tap your wrist.

He has to slap his hand over his mouth instead, and then the other, shuddering and crying into it as he rides out the last waves of his release, his tummy clenching and flexing as his whole torso heaves.

"You're fucking perfect..." you mumble, as if in trance with every tremble of his lithe body.

He finally stills, now fighting for air and clutching at his chest as he urges himself to calm his breathing down. You sooth him, moving your hand to pet at his back, quickly wiping the other before using it to push the strands of sticky hair out of his face.

His ears are buzzing for a moment, before he finally sighs and then gulps a big breath. He tries to speak up but his sore throat doesn't let him, voice cracking.

"Do you need a drink? Or do you need to cough? Please don't be embarrassed" you say this as you pet his cheek, searching his face.

He shakes his head no before he clears the lump from his throat, finding his voice again.

"No...I'm allright , thank you." he gets off of your lap slowly, stretching his legs before repositioning himself on the pillows, pulling you by the hand to follow him.

When you crawl with him...on top of him, he has to swallow dryly again, eyes eagerly eating at you, at every curve of your body that he hasn't seen for a hot second there.

"You have a way with words dear..." he complains, smoothing his palms over your hips.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. Makes me feel all exposed...It's not fair...Especially when you don't give me a fighting chance."

You hum.

"Outside of this, you're the more eloquent one, I think the dynamic is quite balanced"

"Hmh...If you say so." he pretends to glance away, but his arm wraps around the small of your back, making you sit higher on his chest.

"Maybe my words are excessive in this part of our 'dynamic'...l have other redeeming qualities I hope."

You chuckle, looking down at him, his dark, hungry eyes piercing yours, cheeks still a tiny bit flushed under your attention.

"Absolutely..." you confirm, yet you refuse to fall under the faint pressure of his arm on your back.

You are playing coy, and his mouth is already salivating. How cruel.

He rolls his eyes, scoffing.

"Let me show you anyways…” he says, soft yet bashful.

"Maybe if you say please one more time for me, I'll indulge"

"I think I begged enough, no?" he concurs, spreading his hands over your thighs, squeezing briefly before he slides a skilled hand between your legs. He spreads your soaked folds apart, marveling at the sheer amount of wetness that leathers his palm.

"Gave you everything you asked for...let you ruin me however you desired..." he trails off, slowly becoming a tiny bit frustrated.

You stammer as his long fingers easily glide inside you with little to no resistance. Your clit throbs as he bends to give it a quick, wet kiss, peering up at you expectantly as he fills you with slow, deep strokes.

"Come here.” he whispers, adjusting himself under you, a firm arm pulling you down on his pretty face. You let him.

There's a sigh of gratification at the first thick taste he swallows down, coating his throat with you, tongue nestled in with his digits and then he laps.

Loud and filthy. Like you've starved him for months.

You admit defeat, grabbing at the roots of his messy hair with your hand.

You bear down against his mouth, nice and slow until you have almost all of your weight on him. Just how you know he craves it.

His lashes flutter and his eyes roll to the back of his head, legs bending at the knees.

A stifled hiss comes from under you and then a barely coherent blasphemy reaches your ears.

"Ushg my face. Pleahse…"

And how can one refuse...

Posts this draft and runs 🏃‍♀️‍➡️

Might make a sequel if I get bullied enough. But i might not resist smushing my man jayce in here. Thread carefully.

Hope you enjoyed. Mwah🩵

[defmaybe]

Sticky

ITZY’s Shin Yuna x Male Reader

1.9k words

Prequel to Party Police

See also: Not Shy, Bahama

A/N: I write this in two sittings for probably the only mommy Yuna fic lol - BFH-type shit. No editing, no beta-reading, just pure lust again.

–

The clickings of the keyboards displace silence. Again, you’re stuck in the mundane cycle of doing another proposal for the project you’re going to lead. Sighs and sighs don’t keep you from drowsiness building up inside. Others don’t seem to do better even, some even folded on their desks already. The chilly breeze from the conditioner really is relentless right now, so damn perfect for a nap.

“Miss Shin wants you,” the secretary says, keeping you from falling into slumber.

You quickly get up from your desk, pacing towards the glass-paned office. You see your other co-workers dreading their assignments, clicking on their keyboards with blank eyes. On the opposite side, you can see, through the horizontal blinds, the vibrant office with your boss, Shin Yuna, doing the decorations inside. She’s tall (well, taller than you, at least), often confident, and so energetic, contrary to the department she just got handed over a few weeks ago.

You knock on the transparent door, seeing her putting on her Lady Bird poster on the wall. She’s wearing a one-piece raven black dress, one that hugs her slim, otherworldly curvy body so well. You can see her wide hips being so prominent, stripping away your fatigue.

“Come in!” she says, looking over her shoulders as she’s finishing the touch-ups.

You open the door, greeted with the scent of her air purifier—spring. The white fur carpet on the floor welcomes you with the sensations on your soles. Her office is spacious, and the colorful decorations fit her attitude and personality so much.

“Please, sit down,” she says with a smile, hand pointing to the seat in front of her desk. Even the cluttering trinkets on her table never look crowded, they are so meticulously placed to give her a perfect amount of space left for her work.

You accept her invitation, walking towards the seat. Yuna also retreats from her sprinklings back to hers, sitting down in her chair gracefully—a charming boss.

The air hangs heavy for a while, as Yuna takes some time to clear her desk. You glance around the room like the other times. The crucial difference being the Lady Bird poster, of course, and a few more band posters that you can’t quite recall from your listening history.

“So…” Yuna breaks the silence, tapping a finger on her chin, contemplating. “I see that you’ve been looking a little tired. Is that true?”

You blabber out, “N-No! I’m not tired a-at all.” You even put your hands up to deny the allegation.

“Those eyes don’t lie, baby.” The utterance of the last word alone freezes you. Is she flirting?

Let’s pause for a bit. Shin Yuna just got promoted to being your department’s manager—now three weeks in tenure. Her bubbly and kind personality receives multiple acclaim from your co-workers. And combined with her insanely high performances in projects, you cannot see how she wouldn’t get the position. 

Now, that friendly personality can be a bit, to say the least, slightly invasive. Yuna has always been so eager to fire up a talk with people, even if it means robbing someone’s silence. She’s also always happy to help those around her, no matter the methods. You’ve heard some complaints about her vivacious nature, but with the results saying otherwise, you just cannot dislike her for that.

“A-Are you suggesting I should go home or s-something?” you ask, unable to register how she’s getting up to close the blinds, as if she’s asking for some privacy from the outside right now. The room seems to shrink.

“Oh, does it look like that? Not at all, baby,” there it is again, baby.

“As your boss, I have to make sure that you stay productive for the day’s work!” Her smile lights the room up, as she walks towards her chair and sits down again. “I can’t have my employees dreading their jobs and expect a satisfactory performance.”

“Y-You’re very kind, M-Miss Shin,” you stammer out, and she seems to be happy with your words.

“Now tell me.” Yuna leans in closer to you, giving you the fine details of her face—doe eyes, minty breath, rose-colored lips. “Are you familiar with… mommy kink?”

You freeze, not expecting such a question from your manager. The gears in your head are working their best to seek the best answer you can give her, let alone making sense of the peculiar situation.

“A-Aga-”

“I’m certain of what I’ve said, mister,” she cuts you off, stern. Her expression reduces into an emotionless state. “Mommy kink, yes or no.”

“Uh…” That’s the only answer you can give her. The prospect of fully submitting to Miss Shin Yuna seems too enticing. Yet, perhaps it’s your inhibition that’s stopping your desire from falling into places.

“Come, sit on my lap,” Yuna instructs.

You glance around the room—left, right, back—as if to delay the inevitable of her pleasuring you.

“Now,” Yuna now commands, her voice steps down a few notes. 

“And there’s no camera hidden here, I promise,” she says with a smile, comforting you a little.

You slowly get up from your seat. What if I don’t do well enough for her? You walk around her table to land at your destination, your back against her face. She adjusts her position on her chair a little to accommodate your ass.

Her thighs feel… strong—definitely a result of workouts she has had after work. The images of those sweaty, skimpy sessions are making your mouth quiver—the fluid dripping down her body, just for you to taste.

Her hands start from grabbing the both sides of your slutty hips, earning a small whimper from you.

“So yearning for mommy’s touch, aren’t you?” Yuna giggles, moving her frisky fingers to unbutton your blue shirt.

“Y-Yes, mommy.” Your breath comes out in a false rhythm.

With your abdomen being gradually exposed, she uses a hand to feel it a bit, sending shocks and shocks through your faltering body.

“F-Fuck.”

“Hmm, so needy for mommy~” Yuna then continues her groping, until the last button is freed. Your upper body is bare under the cold air of the conditioner right now, as she brings the fondling hand up to your throat.

“Do you want my lips on you, baby boy?” Yuna asks, breaths warming the back of your neck. You can only nod at her.

Consented, she plants her lips on your body, and you are sure that the rosy prints are going to stick with you until the end of the day. Still, is it a fact that you should care right now? Getting groped by your goddess of a manager, with her being your mommy, on top of it.

You shiver at her kisses.

She frees your throat  before drawing her hand down to play with your raging bulge. She can definitely feel your cock aching to be freed right now.

“Need a hand, baby?” again, she asks, hand fondling the tent in your pants.

You become a stuttering mess at this point. “Y-Yes, m-mommy, please.”

“Please… what, baby boy?” She’s playing coy with you for sure.

“P-Please use your hand on my c-cock, please,” you utter out.

She whispers into your ear, “Good boy.” 

She unzips your pants, hand then slithering into the hole. The sensations are even stronger right now, with your underwear being the only barrier between you and her.

She keeps kissing your moaning neck, printing roses wherever she can reach. Her hand is stuck in fondling your cock through the slim cloth.

“Mommy, p-please,” you whimper, desire burning too brightly.

“Say please again, baby boy, and I’ll touch your cock.” Yuna giggles, enjoying how you’re submitting to your boss so damn easily.

“Please, m-mommy.”

Yuna wastes no time to push all of your lower garments down in a single motion, exposing your throbbing, twitching cock in glory. She hums in satisfaction at the sight.

“Hmm~, baby boy, so hard for me already?” she asks, finger drawing a line on the back of your cock from the bottom to the top. It twitches in response.

“Ngh, y-yes, m-m-mommy.” Yuna seems to be happy with your answer as she strokes your cock leisurely.

Her slender fingers only do what they have to do: sliding up and down to make you shatter under her touch. She starts at a slow pace, only teasing you about what’s coming. Her other hand roams under your shirt, moving down onto your juicy ass.

“Ngh, mommy,” you utter, pleasure building up in your loins. The sensations become stronger as seconds passed.

Yuna giggles at your whimpering, “Yes, baby boy?”

“I-I-, ngh,” you cannot form any words under her spell. Fuck.

Yuna cannot hold her chuckle inside, clearly satisfied with her baby boy melting under her touch. “Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Faster, please,” you finally respond, slightly out of breath from the overwhelming sparks all over your body.

Yuna listens to your plea, quickening the strokes, bringing you closer to the edge. Fuck, your slutty moans are probably heard by the people outside now.

The squelches of Yuna’s strokes are filling the room, along with your needy whimpers and her satisfactory hums. “I just wanna spend the whole day jerking this cock~” Yuna expresses, your heart flutters at her words.

“And I mean it, really,” she continues, still keeping the moderate pace of her hand from behind. 

“The size, the curvature, the thickness, god, I’m sure it can stretch mommy’s cunt out so well,” she whispers, and your length just cannot get harder at this second.

“M-Mommy, would you berate me i-if I- fuck.” you struggle to lead your words out, stuttering everywhere you can. She’s still jerking your cock, nursing you with another hand roaming over your body to over stimulate.

“Fast cummer, baby?” She chuckles at your apprehension. “You’re doing well, baby. I think this is the perfect pace for us.”

“T-Thanks, mommy,” you say, feeling the tightening of your knot already. “M-Mommy, where c-can I cum?”

“Ooh, that’s an interesting question, baby boy,” Yuna laughs. “I don’t think the higher-ups would mind a few stains from us~,”

“W-Wha-”

“Shh, let mommy handle this,” she affirms. “Just stay on my lap and let me milk your cock, okay?”

Your mind goes feral, aching for release. Her hand relentlessly stroking your length and another traversing your compact frame just overloads your mind. “Y-Yes mommy.”

“Good boy, now, cum for me, please.”

And it hits, you become undone at her touch, like a lightning. Your sticky cum is shot everywhere—on her desk, on the floor, hell, even on yourself. You moan in the pleasure of her touch and the mind-shattering orgasm. “Mommy!” you shout. Yeah, everyone is going to hear that.

“Wow,” Yuna pants, before planting a kiss on your neck. She doesn’t seem to mind the fact that your seed is on her precious report right now. “You came so much for mommy.”

You try to catch your breath, before speaking out, “Thanks, mommy.”

–

[5sospenguinqueen]

Kiss My Ass | Kevin Magnussen x Mercedes! Reader

Summary: On track, Kevin is your fiercest adversary. Off track, he likes to have you at his mercy (and in his heart).

Warnings: 18+ after the cut. Female oral. P in V. Unprotected sex. Female reader

Requested: Yes and no. People wanted a part 2 and I wanted to give it to them! You can read this as a standalone but part 1 - Suck My Balls - adds to the fun!

F1 Masterlist

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

f1 just posted

liked by lifeofsteiner, pierregasly and others

f1 kevin magnussen receives a one-race ban. magnussen will miss the azerbaijan gp as he reaches 12 penalty points in a 12 month period

3,323 comments

yn_ln ha ha

→ user she’s so messy 

→ user can you blame her? he made contact with her again, which is why he got a penalty point  liked by yn_ln

haasf1team we warned him this would happen

user kevin looks so good in that photo though. his arms 🤤

→ yn_ln are we looking at the same photo? 

georgerussell63 @/mercedesamgf1 she’s being problematic online again

→ mercedesamgf1 she’s just had a pr meeting. we’re not allowed to give one again for another week 

→ yn_ln @/georgerussell63 snitch 

olliebearman sorry, kevin, but it will be nice to be back on track again

→ yn_ln and we will be delighted to have YOU

user love how yn is acting like this is the best news she’s had all year

→ yn_ln even better than my contract renewal 

mercedesamgf1 we apologise but we have taken yn’s social media off her until baku. thank you for your understanding  liked by kevinmagnussen

yn_ln just posted

liked by kevinmagnussen, maxverstappen1 and others 

yn_ln how was everybody’s sunday? oh, mine? thank you for asking. mine was splendid

10,204 comments 

user see what happens when kevin isn’t around  liked by yn_ln 

mercedesamgf1 we’re running out of pr presentations to show you (but we’ll let you off because you’re a RACE WINNER)

→ georgerussell63 i’ll make some

→ yn_ln i don’t like you very much sometimes 

→ georgerussell63 and comments like that will be in the presentation

→ yn_ln why can’t you just say congratulations like a normal person

alex_albon that’s my girl! stunt on these hoes

→ yn_ln my only supporter on the grid 

alexandrasaintmleux that’s my girl 🥳 so happy for you

→ charles_leclerc mon coeur, no. we’re sad. she overtook me

→ yn_ln stay sad (i’ll buy you a shot later)

user not kevin liking this. they’re so messy 

→ user they’re actually the best duo on the grid. every race i look forward to the memes they’ll create together 

landonorris i did it first 

→ yn_ln why does nobody just say congratulations anymore. i won a race! 

→ maxverstappen1 what? like it’s hard

→ landonorris seems like it has been recently 

→ yn_ln and they say i’m problematic 

user she’s such a good driver when kevin isn’t deliberately trying to crash into her 

→ yn_ln thank you. everyone else calls me crazy

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

mercedesamgf1 just posted

liked by georgerussell63, danielricciardo and others

mercedesamgf1 mixed emotions in the garage after singapore. well done george on the points but a disappointing end for yn once more

3,620 comments

yn_ln why don’t you just rub salt in the wound further, admin. thank you. thank you very much 

→ georgerussell63 points points points

→ georgerussell63 why have i just had notification from hr that you made a formal complaint about me?

→ yn_ln you know why

user i swear he has it out for her at this point 

user i acc fear our girl over these next 6 races. kevin has no penalty points and no seat next year 

user how to tell kevin is back on track

user it’s giving school boy crush. pull her hair to get her to notice you

→ user they just race each other hard. they’re both stubborn and yn gives as good as she gets. they both turned into each other 

haasf1team oops? 

→ yn_ln you and your driver are on my list 

→ landonorris don’t worry. it doesn’t take up much time. i’ve been on it since 2019 

yn_ln @/georgerussell63 stop liking posts about my dnf’s this season. i keep getting notifs 

18+ !!!!

Goosebumps rippled across your bare back as his breath tickled your shoulders. He sucked a spot under your shoulder blade, watching as the skin reddened. The material of his shirt caressed your skin as he trailed kisses down your spine.

“You’ve got too many clothes on,” you chastised, rolling your shoulders back when his beard tickled your lower back. He pressed a kiss to the two divots there, pressing his thumbs in them after and marvelling at how well they fit. Like you were made for him.

“Patience, lille kriger.” Kevin whispered against your skin. His hands reached for your hips, pulling your bottom half higher. “What was it you said after your Baku win? Kevin Magnussen can…”

“...kiss my ass,” you panted, body tense in anticipation. The sheets rustled as he shuffled down the bed. His lips pressed against your left buttock before a sharp sensation zapped up your spine. You wriggled away from him, rewarding his antics with the sight of your cheeks jiggling.

“Did you just bite me?”

His hands wrapped around your ankles, yanking you back down towards him. The suddenness of the movement had your arms collapsing beneath you; your body and face landing on the mattress with a bounce.

“I didn’t say you could leave.” He took a moment to admire the reddening bite mark on your cheek. “You do have a spectacular arse.”

You turned your head to look at him but he had already ducked between your thighs. Your breath hitched when he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. His cool breath hit your wetness when he laughed at you. His beard tickled your thighs when you attempted to close them around his head. His hands forced them apart.

“Behave yourself,” he warned.

“Or what?” You said, aiming for bravado. Unfortunately, the breathy tone in which it was said ruined that.

“Or I won’t do this.”

His tongue pressed against your slit, lapping at the wetness pooled between your thighs. He flattened his tongue, dragging it up towards your sensitive bud. A strangled gasp tore from your mouth at the unexpected contact. Kevin traced circles on your clit, suckling gently and taking pride in the way you bucked against him. Your hands twisted into the sheets, fighting to stop the moans from spilling out of you. Refusing to concede to him, to let him know how much he was affecting you.

“Come on, min skat. Let me hear you,” he grumbled against you, tongue dipping between your folds as he feasted. Your thighs burned from where his beard rubbed against them.

Kevin sank a finger inside your heat. You writhed against the sheets, breath coming out in pants but refused to make a noise. Spurred by your silence, the Haas driver added another finger, curling them in the way he knew you liked. Your back arched off the bed, a curse leaving your lips. Kevin didn’t boast about his victory, just continued to ravage you like a man starved. If there was one thing that could erase the sting of a DNF, it was the way you cried his name as you approached the edge. Teetering on the precipice, your eyes snapped open when cold air hit you. His eyes twinkled as he sucked his fingers clean, aware of what he had denied you.

“You robbed me of a podium. Again. And now you’re denying me an orgasm.”

A cheeky grin took over his face as he clambered off the bed, taking in the sight before him. You lay completely bare, ready for him to take as he pleased. Turning on your back, you propped yourself up on your elbows. A small pout formed on your bruised and swollen lips.

“Take it off,” you demanded.

“As you wish.”

In one quick movement, Kevin whipped his t-shirt off, dropping it on the pile of your clothes at his feet. Your eyes roamed the broad expanse of his chest, lingering on his tattoo and trailing down to the strained fabric of his jeans.

“And those.”

“You’re bossy when you’re waiting to be satisfied.”

“You’ve not proven you can satisfy me yet.”

His eyes narrowed at you, even as his hands moved towards his belt. You arched your brow, feigning a picture of boredom. The rapid rise and fall of your naked chest gave away just how eager you were to watch him fully disrobe. Once he was bare, you shuffled to the end of the bed and pushed up onto your knees. Your arms wound around his neck, pressing your lips to his. You nibbled on his bottom lip, revelling in the moan he let out when your tongue brushed against his.

You managed to spin the two of you, pushing him down so that he was seated on the edge of the bed. Climbing into his lap, you connected your lips again, trailing down to the underside of his jaw. Sinking down on him, both of you moaned at the feeling of your slick walls enveloping him. His hands came up to grasp your hips but he didn’t move you, allowing you to adjust to his size. Your eyes fluttered shut before your hips began to rock back and forth.

“For a man so inadequate on track,” you started, voice husky. “you don’t do a bad job between the sheets.”

Before he could reply, you raised your hips before dropping back down on him abruptly. The air was knocked out of him and a strangled grunt spilled past his lips when you repeated the harsh action.

“Fuck.” His grip on you tightened, fingers digging in. “You turned into me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you wanted my attention.”

He sucked in a harsh breath when your nails dug into him. Your pace never faltered. Your breasts bounced as you rode him. Kevin leaned forward, taking one in his mouth. His tongue flicked across your nipple.

“You talk a lot of shit for a man who’s never won a race.”

A yelp tore from you when his teeth clamped down around your nipple, and the rhythm of your hips stuttered.

“Almost there. Come on. Just a little longer for me, love.” Kevin begged.

Your hips stilled immediately, denying yourself the pleasure you’d been chasing. It was worth it for the look on Kevin’s face.

“What did you say earlier about me not being that good?”

Humour replaced the confusion on his face as he realised that you were punishing him for his harsh words during the post-race interviews. Triumph was written across your face and he couldn't wait to wipe it off. He pulled you to his chest, arms tight around your back and flipped the pair of you. You bounced slightly, head landing on the plush pillow. Gripping both your wrists in his hand, he pinned your arms above your head. You looked up at him with wide eyes, struggling against his hold.

“Feel this?” Kevin whispered, pressing himself against your thigh. “You know just how good you are.”

With his free hand, he guided himself in you, inch by inch. He didn’t allow you to adjust to the new position before thrusting into you, slow and deep. An intimate pace to contrast your previously frantic one. He lifted your leg, bringing it to rest above his hip, allowing him to hit that spot deep inside you. You cried out, hands sliding into Kevin’s hair and pulling him close. He allowed himself to fall against you, pressing you into the mattress.

“This okay?”

”Yeah.”

His head fell to the crook of your neck, beard tickling your skin. Whispers filled the space between you.

”Good girl. You’re taking me so well.”

He continued his slow pace, each thrust hitting deep inside you. Your stomach bulged from the thickness of him bruising your walls.

“Look how beautiful you are wrapped around me.”

Soft moans and sighs filled his ear, the melody of your pleasure. A loud groan tore from Kevin’s throat when he felt you clench around him.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?”

He picked up his pace slightly, hand reaching up to palm your breast. His thumb brushed over your nipple as you barrelled towards your end. Your back arched off the bed, breasts brushing his bare chest as you came with a cry of his name. The feeling of your warmth hugging him tight pushed Kevin over the edge. With one harsh thrust, his teeth sank into your shoulder as he spilled himself inside you.

~

Head resting on his chest, you listened as his heart rate doubled in pace. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer into his side as if he feared you would run from him. Even if your legs weren’t shaking, you’re not sure you’d want to.

“I told you we’d do this again.” Kevin murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I don’t know why you sound so proud of that.”

“Maybe I like doing this with you.”

“Yes, well I like winning races but we can’t all get what we want.” There was no bite to your comment, only friendly teasing.

Kevin’s fingers traced patterns along your thigh, relaxing your body. Your eyes drifted closed, a soft hum coming from you. He sensed your sleepiness, wondering if approaching the topic in your content state would be easier.

“Would you still do this with me if you weren’t angry at me?”

“Huh?”

“This started as hate sex, right? But, what if there wasn’t any hate in it. I don’t mean to run you off the track. You just seem to be there when things go wrong.”

“So it’s my fault?”

“No, no, no. That’s not what I meant. I mean, you are distracting but… I want to spend time with you. Outside of this room. Outside of the track.”

Silence filled the room. His heart pounded so hard in his chest that you had to move away; the sound echoing in your head. At your movement, his arms went slack around you, preparing himself for the rejection.

“I’m still mad at you…” you started, feeling bad when his face fell, “…but, I’ll let you take me out for breakfast and we’ll see how it goes.”

The only response you had was a blinding smile, your back being pressed into the mattress once more.

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

kevinmagnussen just posted

liked by hulkhulkenberg, charles_leclerc and others

kevinmagnussen jeg elsker dig (yes, we get along when we’re away from the paddock)

7,884 comments

yn_ln i love you too (but we only get along when you’re kissing my ass, not talking shit) 

yn_ln yes, ladies, the rumours are true. so just remember those arms belong to me now when you’re thirsting about them online. i see you

→ user oh god. she’s turned the energy she reserves for hating on k mag onto us

→ yn_ln no, he still gets it as well

alexandrasaintmleux okay but these are quite cute 

georgerussell63 crikey. i’m not sure the two of you pairing up is a good idea

→ yn_ln jiminy crickets! i’m not sure you commenting on my life all the time is a good idea

→ georgerussell63 you still mad about the powerpoint? 

→ kevinmagnussen she’s complained about it twice in the past hour 

landonorris did you let kevin stand in front so that he would look taller? 

→ kevinmagnussen new target acquired

→ landonorris shit

→ haasf1team kevin, no

mercedesamgf1 i think the pr team might’ve liked a heads up

→ kevinmagnussen i was told she wasn’t talking to them 

hulkhulkenberg finally. i was getting fed up of hearing you talk about her 

→ kevinmagnussen shut up, mate 

→ alex_albon she talked about him too

→ yn_ln alex! 

→ alex_albon i’m sorry but i’ve been waiting for you to admit this for months. i’m just happy that you’re happy 

user i knew that the pic in her spanish gp dump was kevin!

(Bonus)

haasf1team just posted

liked by yn_ln, hulkhulkenberg and others

haasf1team cooling off 🧊

5,879 comments

yn_ln be right back. making this my lock screen

yn_ln take this down. i can’t have other people catching onto what i’ve known all along! 

user is he looking at hulk or yn in that first pic? 

→ haasf1team yn. they shared

→ hulkhulkenberg i was kicked out

→ yn_ln i told merc to let you use mine!

→ user can’t be an ice bath when they’re both in there 🥵

user i don’t blame yn actually. i’d let him ram me off the track if he looked like that 

→ yn_ln didn’t really have a choice in the matter, love

user kevin magnussen. i was not familiar with you in that way 

→ yn_ln now make yourself unfamiliar 

user yn wasn’t joking when she threatened us on kevin’s relationship post

→ user girly is fighting these comments so fast

→ yn_ln back, i tell you 🤺 back

kevinmagnussen @/mercedesamgf1 she escaped again

→ mercedesamgf1 thank you. we’ll be revoking her social media rights again

→ yn_ln but you’re still a traitor

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

Requests open

Tag list

Only includes those who requested a Part 2 as I don't know who is comfortable with consuming this content

@steamy-smokey @1800-love-me @suckerforoldermen @dying-inside-but-its-classy

[gtgbabie0]

Helloo can I request a sweet smut with aegon x reader where they've been apart for some time due to work and when they come together they just want to be intimate with one another

-Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader

{Aegon’s patience has been wearing thin, he soon reaches a breaking point}

!!-18//MDNI-!! Sorry this took so long I simply cannot catch a break, enjoy my lovelies!! 💕

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Since the moment Aegon sat down on his council chair he wanted to leave, to abandon the whole damned meeting and let the fools figure it out for themselves. What was the point of even being there if they overlooked everything he said?— if they did not take him seriously?

It angered him beyond belief, the way they looked at him, the snide remarks that left a stupid pain in his chest no matter how much he tried to ignore it. He sits there bored and pissed off, spinning the marble against the wooden table as their words blend into one another making one big dull noise.

He feels silly, ignored, and he doesn’t enjoy it— so he leaves, slamming his fist onto the table so hard that it causes each of the council members to jump in their seats. The marble rolls off of the table, smashing onto the stone floor as the door shuts behind him with a loud thud.

Aegon bites the inside of his cheek, trying to cool his temper down before entering your bedchambers- the last thing he wanted to do was sour your day with his mood, but it doesn’t work he can’t seem to quell the frustration that coils around his already tense body.

It's your laugh. The sound of your laughter, light and merry calms him. It clashes so greatly with the heavy weight of his heart, with the turbulence in his mind. He stands there for a moment, just outside your shared bedchambers, his anger evaporating as he listens to the heavenly sound.

With a deep breath, he opens the door entering with a relieved sigh. His lilac eyes meet your own with a tender expression that softens his features, watching your dressers ready you for bed, taking your necklace and earrings off with great care.

“You’re dismissed… leave us.” Aegon commands, waving a dismissive hand to the two ladies. They both bow courtly before leaving the room with knowing smirks gracing their lips.

You stand there however with furrowed brows, tilting your head in confusion as he draws closer to you. “I’m still in my day clothes?” You state only receiving a chuckle in return.

“I’m aware.” He smirks, admiring the way the silk of your dress hugs your curves. It drives him to madness and he can’t help but grasp at your hips as he continues to drink in the sight of you. "You don't need your dressers to get you ready for bed... I can take care of that for you."

The realisation hits all so suddenly, taking your breath away and the only response you can give him is a small ‘Oh’ which only makes him chuckle once more against the soft skin of your shoulder.

It had been far too long since he had taken you, all the interrupted moments and the long busy days had caused a searing ache between your thighs that you had tried to sate with your fingers, but nothing could compare to Aegon— he knew you like the back of his hand, he filled the spaces you couldn’t.

“What has spurred this one?” You ask, tone hushed and breathless as he leaves a trail of warm kisses along your neck and the dip of your shoulder. It wasn’t a complaint, far from it, you just wanted to know whether or not he burned for you the way you did for him.

And gods did he. Aegon's fingers work at the laces of your dress with practised ease, his touch feather-light and yet exhilarating. He watches you through the reflection of the mirror, the way the silk of your dress ripples down your body like a waterfall until it pools around your feet leaving you vulnerable to him.

“Do I need an excuse to want to touch you like this?” He whispers, lips grazing against the curve of your jaw. It’s all so dizzying in such an embarrassing way.

You lean back against him, enjoying the way his fingers trace along your waist causing your skin to break out in gooseflesh. He mumbles something about how ‘sensitive you are’ into the crook of your neck and you can feel the smirk that teeters on his lips when a breathless moan escapes you.

“No of course not— I’ve missed you.” You sigh, leaning your head to expose more of your neck to him as your fingers find his hair.

He nuzzles his nose against the underside of your jaw, humming in contentment as your sweet flowery scent surrounds him. “I’ve missed you— so much.” He breathes.

Aegon cups your jaw, tilting your head slightly to the side so he can kiss you. So slow and yet full of passion that has only been building up for the past few weeks. He groans into your eager mouth the taste of your tongue against his own going straight to his cock.

His arms wrap around your midsection, pulling you closer to him. He press his growing erection against the curve of your ass and he can’t help but rut against you slightly. He was more pent up than he realised.

He breaks the messy kiss momentarily, his breath warm against your skin. "You taste... incredible..." he whispers, his voice a low rumble, before kissing you once again.

“The wine perhaps.” The words are hushed through a small giggle. Once again his lips find yours, not breaking as you turn around in his embrace, one of his hands reaching up to caress your warm cheek.

"No," he murmurs, pulling back to admire you with a hungry look and a lazy grin. "It's not the wine." He leans back in. "It's... you," the kiss is much greedier, and his hands trace a path down your spine, resting against the small of your back, drawing you closer to his body.

You gasp, hands flying to grab his forearms as he suddenly begins to guide you backwards over to your shared bed. The backs of your knees hit the mattress as you collide with the softness of the bedsheets, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Where did your manners go?” You tease him lightly, propping yourself up on your elbows, watching him with desire in your eyes as he lifts his tunic over his head, discarding it on the floor somewhere.

He smirks, leaning over you, trailing his lips along your collarbones— a clash of teeth and tongue. His hips lay flush over your own as he slowly grinds himself down onto you, relishing in the sweet sounds that you make.

"My manners?" he murmurs against your chest, his eyes meeting your own with a glint of playfulness flashes through them. "They flew out the window the moment I took that dress off of you."

His gaze roams over your body, drinking in the sight of you laid out beneath him bare— hips writhing desperately. You gasp against the pillows as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the hardened peak whilst his other hand cups your unattended breast, thumbing over the nub.

“Aegon— please.” The words are a struggle to get out as he’s rendered you completely breathless, but the way your hips lift up to try and press against his, desperate for attention, tells him everything he needs to know.

He hums in understanding, leaving a trail of kisses along your breasts. “I’ll get there, my love… I’ll get there.” He coos softly, his hand falling to your restless hips as his thumb rubs over the curve and dips whilst his mouth ravishes your chest in wet kisses and small licks.

Aegon slips his hand in between your thighs, watching your face intently as his fingers part your slick folds, running along the sensitive flesh before catching your clit, rubbing slow circles over the bud. He’s completely taken with the way you arch up into his touch, how your lips part, the sounds you make. All of it— all of you—causes his cock to throb.

You mewl, hips bucking against his hand as he pushes two fingers inside you, curling them. “Mhm… you’re so beautiful with my fingers buried in your cunt,” He smirks, enjoying the fact he isn’t the only one who has been pent up. “So wet…” the words are muffled against your lips, your slickness coating his digits.

You brush your fingers through his hair, pulling him into a kiss as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Your free hand works deftly to unlace his breeches, the fabric falls mid-thigh letting his cock spring free, begging for attention.

Aegon hisses sharply into your ear, burying his face against your shoulder as your hand wraps around his length. “I want your cock inside me, please…” you beg him, voice strained with pleasure. The deep desire to feel him as close to you as humanly possible completely drowns out everything else in your mind, your thoughts now are only of him.

He nods his head in compliance, not having the strength the refrain himself any longer than he already has. Sliding his fingers out of your cunt, he coats your slickness around the tip of his thick shaft, the feeling sends a tingle down his spine, his skin hot to the touch.

Aegon swats your hand away gently as he guides the head of his cock between your folds, nudging the tip against your clit over and over again basking in the way his name sounds coming from you all whiny, laced with such wanton passion.

He groans as he lines himself up to your entrance before sinking into you slowly, whispering soft lovely words of encouragement against your jaw. The way you take him with ease, how your slick walls clamp around him it’s all so maddening— so mind-numbing and all he can do is huff and moan against your skin.

The stretch of him is so achingly good, the drag of his cock along your walls as he thrusts his hips against your own sends a searing heat through your abdomen. Aegon mutters on about how ‘good you feel’ and how ‘well you take him’ like some sort of crazed man, completely drunk off of your body.

His movements soon become sloppy, trying so hard to keep himself from spilling too early but the sounds of wet flesh and your moans coupled with the way your cunt squeezes around him makes it nearly impossible as he teeters closer to the edge.

“Fuck— I can’t— it’s been too long I— I won’t last.” He whimpers, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing you in. His hands pin your hips down to the bedsheets as he continues to fuck himself into you, moaning hotly against your flushed skin as you wrap your thighs around his waist to hold him closer.

“I- I’m close… don’t worry.” You reassure him, your hand grasping at his white hair. The tightness deep inside him eventually snaps, spilling his warm seed inside you with a broken cry of pleasure, panting and whining into the crook of your neck as apologies fly from his lips. You grab his face, kissing him greedily as you come around cock, milking him practically dry.

The pair of you go boneless against the comfort of the pillows, catching your breaths with dazed expressions. Aegon’s fingers trace a soothing line along your spine as you instinctively seek out the warmth of his arms.

“Sorry-” He rasps with a lazy grin, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then another to your cheek. "It's been too long"

“Mm… don't apologise, we'll never go that long apart again.” You reply earning a weak nod and a hum of agreement from him. You rest your cheek against his chest, allowing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calm your own erratic one.

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[karinab00bs]

Can i request Karina x Male Reader office sex?

Cubicle Rival

Karina x male reader

tags: nipple play, fingering

Nearly everyone in the building had left for the day by ten minutes after fifteen; the janitor had even switched off the lights on purpose to prevent anyone from working overtime. Karina and you remained in the same room where they'd been working; the woman had taken off her blazer and was draping it over the back of her chair, while the man had rolled up his long sleeves to his elbows. As long as their report received approval and they could return home, their looks held little concern.

"Mr. Ethan hasn't replied?" Karina asked you since you had been refreshing your email. Waiting for the first message in their inbox determined whether they could go home early or stay in the office longer.

"Not just yet.” Perhaps sloppily or exhausted, you respond, "It's still being checked."

Karina says, her tone unpleasant to hear: "It's half past eleven; is it crazy that Mr. Ethan still wants to check the report?"

"Why are you anyway blaming Mr. Ethan? You know he is a perfectionist. He promised to wait until today; hence, he will wait until twelve. You are the one who is wrong; why would you hand over such a critical report to an intern who is already on his way home at five? It's not going to be right," you ramble, drawing visible eyebrows furrowing on Karina.

"Why are you blaming me? Blame Ms. Je for putting the director's daughter in our division. What do you think I can do if she's nagging me to do a report? Tell her you can't do your job like that?" Karina started pounding on the table; maybe both of them were already tired, so they were more sensitive and easily ignited.

"You could try pointing the finger at other people. You brought Mr. Ethan and now Ms. Je; pointing fingers at others won't make them do anything or prevent such incidents in the future. Do you also intend to hold the intern responsible, given his obvious ignorance in preparing the report? Indeed, it is your responsibility to consider this matter. How can a child, lacking any knowledge, solve such a significant problem? You, equally irritated, began pointing at Karina as if assigning blame.

"Now you're blaming me?"

You didn't have time to reply to Karina's words because a call came into your cell phone from Mr. Ethan.

"Yes, sir? Yes, thank you very much, sir. I'll send it later. I will finish it in 15 minutes. Thank you very much, sir." You disconnected the phone and looked at Karina. The man sighed softly before saying to karina, "The report is okay; I just need to check for typos. I'll finish it first. Can you get me a coffee?"

Karina was silent for a second before responding, "Fine." 

Upon seeing Karina exit the office, you instinctively shut your eyes.

Although Karina was really terrified to visit the pantry by herself since all the lights had been turned off, she couldn't resist your demand so that everything would be finished rapidly and she could head home. Under low lighting, she began preparing two cups of coffee in paper cups, using a combination of saset coffee and sugar, to ensure you wouldn't have any complaints about the taste. She carried the black coffee paper cups with both hands, but her foot stumbled on something, and one cup of coffee spilled on her chest. "Ah." Karina turned to show a faint smile. Indeed, it appears that she has paid the price for all her mistakes over the past year. Why is this so unlucky?

She took off her shirt, which was full of spilled coffee, and then she walked back towards her office.

She gently opened the door, and she found you closing your eyes and leaning on your chair. Okay, the initial plan was for Karina to stealthily walk to her cubicle, retrieve her blazer, and put it on before you woke up. Karina then crept over, set the coffee she had produced next to your laptop, and hurried to her cubicle.

You blinked up at the scent of coffee, but your attention quickly went from the paper cup on her desk to the figure of Karina, who was unclasping her bra. Fuck.

"What on earth are you doing?" you inquired, your voice quivering with disbelief. 

"My shirt is all sticky from spilling coffee," Karina answered, her bare back now showing.

"Are you not afraid of me doing anything to you?" You asked while getting up from the chair to get a box of tissues. The man was now sitting on Karina's chair, and you could clearly see the girl's large, saggy breasts. While the woman sat at her desk.

"You and I fight every day; I doubt you have any desire to do anything to me, even though I'm naked in front of you right now," Karina replied confidently.

"Do you think if I were naked in front of you, you'd be horny?" Your question made Karina snort in annoyance.

"No, it's crazy to lust after you," Karina said, folding her arms across her chest, making her breasts pop out even more as if challenging you.

"I have submitted the report, and Mr. Ethan accepted it. You raised one eyebrow and said, "All that remains is your business with me."

"What business is it? I have nothing to do with you. Better turn back; my body is all sticky and a little blistering thanks to the hot water dispenser," Karina said, looking down at her coffee-sticky chest.

"You're sure you won't lust after me, right?" you asked again.

"No."

"I'll just clean it so it's not sticky and then go home," you said. "Shut up." You looked down and swept your tongue over every inch of Karina's breasts to clean the coffee off her skin, occasionally giving the man a light sip.

"What the hell are you doing?" Karina tried to keep your head from coming closer to her body, but then she froze as the tip of your tongue rubbed against her nipple. Damn. It was so good.

"They say it's better to use saliva or running water when it's hot." You soaked Karina's upper body, including her skirt, with the remaining water from the glass she used to drink.

"Fuck, what are you doing? I swear.. I'm wet.."

"Wet, huh?" You lowered your head and took one of Karina's nipples into your mouth, sucking gently, while your other hand wiped Karina's body with a tissue.

Karina bit her lip, both hands clutching the edge of the table she was sitting on. "You won't lust, right? There's no way you'll lust after me; after all, I'm just cleaning you."

"Hurry up and clean it.. I'm going back." Karina's words made you smile.

You took a tissue and, using both hands, rubbed Karina's nipples with it. While closing her eyes, the girl looked up. She hadn't felt a touch on her body in a long time, so a touch like this sent her into a trance. Indeed, your skill level is beyond reproach. Just observe how the tissue continues to twist both Karina's nipples, creating a more pleasurable sensation. You idly pinched Karina's nipples so hard that she couldn't help but moan.

"Don't be horny; I'm just cleaning it," you said half-mockingly.

"I'm not fucking horny." Karina's answer made you laugh. You pulled down Karina's panties and let them fall to the floor.

"It's just wet," you teased with a finger that had rubbed Karina's pussy. "I'm just cleaning it; you don't want to feel uncomfortable."

"What the hell are you doing- ahhh ..." Your tongue entered to explore Karina's pleasure hole with your finger stroking the small object on it, creating a stifled moan from Karina's lips, which made you smile because, after all, Karina's sigh had made you win. You deliberately inserted two of your fingers, then scratched Karina's pussywall rather roughly, causing her affection to shift to her clitoris. "A-ahhh.. ahhh.."

"Why mm? Is it good? You said you wouldn't lust after me, but you're so wet, Rina." Karina stared resentfully at your face as she bit her lower lip, deliberately holding back a moan so as not to feed your ego. "Why do you want to end it?" you asked, bending your two fingers precisely at Karina's weakest point, and soon her pleasure juices melted away.

"Damn you.." said Karina in the end, while catching her breath.

"1-0, there is no need to deny that you are also horny for me," you said with a chuckle, and you lowered your head to lick Karina's pussy, which had just reached its release.

"Watch out; I'll get you back."

"I can't wait," you replied as she helped put the blazer on Karina's body.

[catboyieejeno]

gameboy :: p.js — one

genre: gamer! jisung x gamer! reader, college au cw: female reader, fwb to lovers, explicit smut, pervy jisung, male masturbation, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, inexperienced jisung, cum play/breeding kink, pet names, slight humiliation kink, size kink, creampie, probably more wc: 18.257k

[one] [two]

18+ minors do not interact!

The red letters that flash across your screen read ‘Defeat’, illuminating your dimly lit room with a shy, red hue. The instant the word appears on your monitor, a voice blasts through your headset, erupting in emphatic complaints and protests. You can hear the clatter of a keyboard and mouse being shoved around on the other end of the receiver, and it takes everything in you to stifle your laugh. 

“We definitely could’ve won that!” the boy scoffs, “I swear, sometimes it feels like you and I are the only people with any fucking game sense.” 

“Wow, thanks for the validation,” you joke, instinctively queuing up for another match. Your eyes trail up to the little icon in the corner of the screen that glows green every time he speaks.

“You know what I mean,” he grumbles, and you imagine he must not look all that different from the little crying cat picture he set as his discord icon. The thought makes you snort, but he ignores you, stating, “I think this is my last game,” 

You nod even though you know he can’t see you, “same, I have class tomorrow,”

“First day of the semester for you, too?”  

You nod again. “Unfortunately. My days of gaming until four and sleeping until noon have come to an end.” 

He laughs, leaning forward in his chair as he realizes something, “You know, I never asked what you’re studying,” 

“Oh,” you blink, “Well, the first class I have tomorrow is just a random credit I needed, but I’m actually majoring in-” 

It takes less than a few seconds for your words to drown out into a muffled buzz, and the only thing Jisung can focus on now is the silky, smooth sound of your voice. 

He would never admit it, at least not out loud, but your voice makes his heart beat just a little faster. The way each and every word rolls off your tongue makes his breath hitch, imagination running wild at the thought of what your lips look like when they mold to form each syllable and sound. 

Every night like clockwork, Jisung finds himself rocking side to side in his desk chair, eyes hanging low and round lips curved up into a smile as he listens to you speak.

It’s so easy to talk to him, too. By now, you’ve lost count of how many nights the two of you rambled off in voice chats, watching shows or playing video games or simply oversharing the details of your lives. It’s only been a few months since you met in a game chat, on that night where he practically harassed you for your discord after you carried him up a rank in-game. You’re secretly grateful he did, though you wouldn’t let him know that; the two of you effortlessly became part of each other’s daily routine, and now, calls with you are his favorite way to end the night. Tonight is no exception.

Jisung begins to mindlessly swing in his chair as usual. He’s humming passively between your small pauses to encourage you to keep going as his hands automatically start caressing his torso. It’s a somewhat innocent gesture, or at least it starts out that way: his palms sliding across the ridges of his abdomen as he listens to your voice. It’s better than music to his ears, and it urges his long fingers to dance closer and closer to his waistband.

“–and I thought about changing it, but I think with an degree in Lit, I could probably get a career in–”

Lost in your voice, Jisung slips his hands into his shorts, holding his balls as he fully zones out of the conversation. He knows you’re saying words and forming actual sentences, but his social awareness has dwindled completely and he absolutely can’t seem to get past how sweet you sound, and how much sweeter you would sound under… different circumstances. He moves up to hold his dick gently and furrows his brows. Almost accidentally, his thumb brushes along the underside of his tip, teeth clamping the inside of his cheek and gnawing on it to ground himself. Just as eager as its owner, Jisung’s dick jolts in his palm, progressively swelling up until it’s flushing bright pink. 

“You’re into English?” He manages to stop daydreaming and hone into the conversation for a fleeting moment, just long enough to ask you that simple question and keep your attention off of his rapidly shifting breath.

He’s blatantly playing with himself now, ever so distractedly. It’s an autonomous act: the way the pad of his middle finger trails over his slit to collect a bit of the pre-cum that has begun to dribble out in pearly beads. He hisses, then quickly snaps his mouth shut in hopes that you hadn’t heard him. 

“Yeah,” he can hear your smile in your words, “I think I always have been. I used to read all the time and—I swear, if you say I’m boring, I’ll personally come over and choke you–” 

As he acknowledges reality for a quick moment, his pace falters. His brows pinch, and he feels confused as he realizes he can’t stop or even moderate his actions, despite the shame slowly beginning to wash over him. The more you talk, the harder he grows. His grip is getting tighter, his strokes needier… he must be losing his mind. With a gulp, he thinks to himself, what would you do if you could see him touching himself like this to you? Would you think it’s sick and twisted or would you offer to help him out? His head begins to throb as the room spins around him, but he really can’t seem to slow his motions. By now, he’s bucking his hips up and into his hand while the other covers his mouth, silencing the whines that threaten to leave his throat. He’s breathing heavily, praying to god you don’t somehow notice his perverted actions. Despite knowing that he isn’t thinking straight, Jisung can’t help the thoughts that continue to fog his mind, rampant and obscene. 

Could you hear the squelching of his hand pumping his cock, covered in his pre-release? Or the way he’s practically panting, reduced to nothing at the mere sound of your voice? He’s not sure whether or not his mic would even pick that up, but even so, the corner of his lips curl into a lazy smile as his mind continues down his twisted rabbit hole. 

In spite of not knowing what you look like, there’s no denying that he wants to give you all of him. He wants to feel himself buried deep inside your throat, your pretty voice vibrating around him as you choke on his length. He feels himself twitch in his palm and he subconsciously nods, picturing it's your walls around him instead of his own inadequate hand. Jisung huffs out once, fucking his fist wildly, picturing how much he’d like to feel himself bust inside of your warm, tight pus-

“Sung? Sung!”

“Huh? W-what?” As he yanks his hand from his shorts, the waistband snaps against his skin and he yelps out at the impact, “Sorry! I promise I was listening, it-its just, I got a little caught up with–” words are tumbling out of his mouth, before he can catch up to them.   

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Hurry, just pick your agent before the match gets–” but the timer runs out, and the lobby screen appears once more as you sigh, “–canceled...” 

Jisung glances down at his hand, separating his fingers and watching how the sticky pre-cum leaves webbed strings between each of his parted digits. His stomach is also wet, and the tent in his pants is growing increasingly painful with each passing second. 

“What were you fantasizing about, huh?” Oh, fuck. The teasing edge in your words makes his nerves tingle, and he throws his head back as you hum into your mic, “Hmm. Well, I guess it was more interesting than what I was saying. Can’t blame you though, the topic of school is boring me too, and the semester hasn’t even started yet. Also, that can’t count as your last game. I literally won’t allow it.” 

You queue up for another game and Jisung sighs, watching the timer on the screen tick away. The picture changes, and the two of you are prompted to start a game. A few kleenex wipes collect the mess on his hand and torso, and he settles back in his chair after tossing them, deciding his neediness will have to wait for now.

Bidding you good night is harder than usual tonight, but he knows you need to get to sleep—you mentioned you had an early class and he had his own, so his selfish urge to keep you talking until he came in his hand would, unfortunately, need to take a raincheck.

After logging off of his computer, Jisung drops his head into his hands with a sigh.

What the fuck even was that? 

A mix of shame and arousal take over him as his cheeks begin glowing a deep shade of red. He lets out a small scoff, shaking his head to himself as he gets up from his chair. His dick is still as hard as a rock, and he can’t help but feel flustered at the fact that he has, quite literally, blue-balled himself. 

With a towel swung over his shoulder and a clean pair of sleeping shorts clutched in his fist, Jisung walks up to the dorm’s nearest communal bathroom. He turns on the faucet, freeing himself of his clothes. The moment his boxers come down past his thighs, his length slaps against the skin below his navel, making him hiss out as he steps into the shower. The cold water, running down against his heated body, seems to be doing the trick of clearing his mind, that is, until his hands find their way to his stomach, rubbing the soap over it.

It’s so hard to expel the thoughts of you when they’re so intrusive and tempting, and Jisung lets his mind drift off once more, imagining how it would feel to be touched by you, sucked by you. All the soft noises you would make are weirdly familiar; he can practically hear them. His head falls back, lips caught between his teeth as he twitches and gives himself an experimental stroke, shuddering as his thumb glides across the slit of his sensitive tip. He clenches his eyes shut tighter, letting out a shaky sigh and letting the water continue to trickle down his body. He doesn’t know what you look like, other than your hair color which you mentioned the other day. Despite that, he still tries desperately to piece an image of you together behind his eyelids, picturing what your lips are like. And just like that, thoughts of you flood him, and he shudders at the vision of you on your knees, looking up at him with big, innocent eyes, begging to taste him and take all of him. He longs to feel you swallow around him—to grab either side of your face and thrust into your needy mouth until the tears slip from your eyes and your pussy is dripping from the need to be fucked.  

Getting lost in the moment, he doesn’t even realize how loud he’s becoming and how fast his fist is working his dick. Jisung's highly anticipated release is only seconds away when a loud knock startles him, lunging him right back into his body.

“Yo, man! How long are you gonna take in there?” His friend and next door neighbor, Mark, shouts from the other side of the door, knocking again and ruining Jisung’s fantasy once and for all. 

The boy takes a moment to clear his throat and swallow, not trusting his voice to not crack otherwise, “Uh.. Sorry. I’ll just be a minute.” 

It takes everything in him to slow his hand to a stop and pry it off of his shaft, deciding that perhaps, he shouldn’t entertain his filthy thoughts any longer. He quickly finishes showering with another unnecessary interruption from Mark, then drags himself back to his room and gets into his bed, forcing his eyes shut in an attempt to sleep. The longer he lies there, however, the more restless he grows. 

His dick feels sore to the touch and it’s driving him absolutely crazy. Every time he adjusts his shorts or moves his legs, his balls throb from how full they are. Knowing he has class to get to the following day, he tries to convince himself that maybe he needs a release to get to sleep. It’ll tire him out, and then finally, he’ll be able to get some rest…There’s at least a bit of logic to that theory, or that’s what he tells himself, anyway. 

Against his better judgment that pleads with him to just shut his eyes and count sheep, Jisung huffs out and slips his hands into his shorts to begin touching himself for the nth time tonight. This whole time, he had been unknowingly edging himself and now he’s so, so undeniably and incredibly desperate to cum that it literally hurts. 

His free hand brings his phone up and unlocks it, thumb swiping quickly in search of the discord app where your contact resides, the little green bubble next to it signifying that you’re still online. He hovers over the call button, taunting himself with the idea of making a call to you at this time. One little click, and he’d hear your voice again. Just one click and he-

sung ᨐฅ started a call. Today at 11:54 AM

Shit, shit, shit. 

He rushes to hang up, but you’ve answered no more than a ring later. 

“Hello?” 

Jisung holds his rather unsteady breath, staring wide-eyed at his phone. His dick pulses in his palm that now rests still. 

“Sung?” 

As gently as possible, he lays the phone down on his puffed up chest, letting out his breath slowly so that you don’t hear him.

“I’m gonna assume you called me by accident… ” you sigh out in disappointment, growing quiet in uncertainty. For a second, Jisung is convinced you’re gonna hang up, but when you stay on the line, he peers down at the screen curiously. 

Your icon lights up green and there’s some shuffling on your end, presumably from you getting comfortable in bed. 

He hears you yawn and smiles fondly. 

“I’m tired,” you mumble, “are you asleep? I was actually excited that you called. Maybe it’s my fucked up schedule… or, maybe I’m just dreading tomorrow, but I couldn’t sleep. I don’t know…” 

You’re speaking slower and quieter than usual, but you’re speaking, completely oblivious of the fact that he’s thinking of the dirtiest things that involve you, getting off while you think he’s sound asleep. 

“It’s always easier to sleep once we’ve talked so,” you pause, then sigh out jokingly, “I guess I'll just talk your unconscious ear off until I fall asleep…You don’t mind, right?”

God, no, he thinks.  

Jisung silently celebrates your decision with a pump of his hand, shuffling a bit to get comfortable as you go on about genshin and cats and other things he can barely pay mind to. It takes no more than a few strokes, shallow ones where he caresses the angry head of his dick to the velvety sound of your slurred and drowsy mumbling, for him to bring himself to come so fucking hard. 

His knees lock as his cock springs up in his clutched palm, spewing streams of white cum all over his stomach, chest, and thighs. The muscles on his abdomen ache from the way they contract, eyes and jaw shutting tightly as he challenges himself to remain quiet. The sheets aren’t spared from his thick load either, his nut dripping down the sides of his tummy to make dark, round puddles on his bed. His toes curl as he tries his hardest to not gasp out when the pleasure dissolves into sensitivity, digging his head back into the pillow with a hand clasped over his lips. 

A few minutes later, the blurriness in his vision is relieved, along with the ringing in his ears. You’ve stopped talking; instead, the receiver picks up your short and shallow breaths, as if you’ve fallen asleep with your mouth open. Cute.  

As he assesses the aftermath of his much needed release, he wishes he could snap a picture and send it to you, so that you’d wake up knowing this pathetic mess he made was all for you, because of you.

Alas, he can’t, and he hangs up once he’s completely sure you’re resting. With his eyelids feeling much heavier than before, he manages to toss his phone onto the nightstand before he, too, drifts off to sleep.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The following morning, Jisung wakes up in a bit of a panic. The first thing that throws him for a loop is the fact that his alarm didn’t go off at all. He quickly realizes he forgot to set it amidst the activities of the night before. The second thing that strikes him is his own hand that rests on his stomach, stuck in some kind of damp, sticky liquid. In his half-conscious state, he lifts his fingers and his puffy eyes widen as he identifies the clear fluid that decorates his tummy as his drying release from the night before. 

“Ugh…” He grimaces, sitting up in his bed. His phone, which is less than half full of battery since he forgot to plug it in, blinks back the numbers 8:38 at him. Jisung’s eyes widen as he remembers that his first class of the day, of the semester, is at 9. 

“Fuck!” In a flash, his blanket is flung off of him and his legs are swinging over the edge of the bed. He moves to grab some tissues from his nightstand, making aggressively desperate attempts at wiping away his cum. When the Kleenex sticks to him instead, he digs around his drawers for a pack of wet wipes, snatching a pair of pants off of the floor at the same time and practically yanking them up his legs. 

Despite almost falling over, he manages to get them on and clean off his torso… for the most part. A random sweatshirt is tugged on over his head and he runs his hand through his hair a few times to tidy it before passively telling his reflection, this will do. 

Moments later, he’s rushing downstairs and outside of the dormitory with his unzipped backpack hung over his shoulder. He rushes to unlock his bike, cursing as he fumbles with the keys. Once he’s on, he starts pedaling to the Science building on the other side of campus, heavily dreading checking the time in fear it’ll read some absurd number and he’ll wind up being much later than he anticipates.

The breath that’s been caught in his throat all morning is only released when he steps through the door of the lecture room to see that the professor hasn’t walked in yet, and that the clock reads that he’s 6 minutes early.

Finally slowing his rushed pace, Jisung does a quick once over the room to scan the faces of his fellow students before taking his seat somewhere near the back. Thanking the heavens that his notebook and textbook didn’t go tumbling out of his bag in the midst of his previous hurry, he tugs them out, flipping them open and writing the date on the first page. His laptop, which is where he had planned to take notes on, sits in his dorm room where he left it on his desk. Everyone else has theirs out, but he’ll just have to bring his own next time. 

There’s a distant click, and the door on the lowest level of the lecture hall opens. Through it walks a relatively tall and slender lady, heels echoing rhythmically as she strides over to set her dark bag down by the podium. Her hair is tied back high and tight, so much so, that all of her features look like they're blending into her hairline. She looks like she’s somewhere in her mid-to-late fifties, and from the instant she walked in, the entire class went silent.

She clearly has a presence that commands attention and undoubtedly, she fits the visual profile of a strict college professor quite well, especially when she picks up the chalk and scribbles her surname onto the green chalkboard beside the larger projector screen.

“I’m Professor Hwang. Welcome to AST1002, also known as Descriptive Astronomy. If you’re here, that means you took AST1001 with Mr. Kwon last year. He has since transferred to a different department.” 

There’s no audible response, although some disappointment does flash across the faces of the students in the room, all of whom did have (and seemingly would miss) Mr. Kwon. Professor Hwang doesn’t seem to notice the lack of responses, and continues speaking as she pulls some papers out.

“Firstly, I’ll take attendance. Then, I’ll pass the syllabus around. I would like for you to note,” she pauses to place a pair of red glasses high on the bridge of her nose, “that attendance is mandatory for my class, and worth 20% of your grade. I’ll go over pop quizzes and weekly quizzes, as well as the initial class project, when each of you have a copy of the syllabus. That being said, I look forward to seeing you all here every class. Please call out when you hear your name.” 

As she starts to take attendance, Jisung takes the time to sigh into his hands, both exhausted and dreading the fact that he’d have to spend three days out of the week rotting in a lecture hall to attend a class he expected to be fun, or at the very least a break from his much more difficult core classes. By the looks of it, that’s no longer the plan. 

It’s easy to zone out quickly while his mind is still foggy, no doubt from the lack of sleep and the subsequent abrupt awakening that followed. He had just begun an attempt to read the syllabus when something made his ears perk. 

Immediately, his head snaps up in pursuit of a soft and airy voice that just responded to Professor Hwang. It’s so quick and in passing that he almost thinks he might have imagined it in his delirious state, but the way the hair on his limbs stands on end is unmistakable. His eyes dart around the room, hitting his classmate’s heads like targets, but there’s absolutely no way to identify the individual who just spoke. 

Could it be… No. No way. 

Jisung is no stranger to daydreaming about you, but he isn’t completely delusional. He knows the chances of being not only in the same city, but the same university and class as you are absolutely slim to none, so he stops that train of thought dead in its tracks. 

It does segway him into thinking of you, though. You’re obviously not here, so he wonders instead what class you are in at the moment. He tries to picture what you’re wearing on your first day of class, trusting you look more put together than him in his old hoodie that is slightly sticking to the dry cum on his stomach. Do you like your classmates? Your professor? He sincerely hopes you have a more tolerable one than he does. 

“Park Jisung?” 

With a slight cough, he spits out a weak “h-here.” and instantly grimaces, raising his shoulders autonomously as if he would get scolded for stammering so pathetically. The professor, to his relief, doesn’t even glance up from the roster. Then, he feels quite silly for even thinking he would get reproached for that to begin with. In his defense, she’s a rather intimidating woman, and his inner monologue is so loud and flooded with thoughts of you that he fears she may have heard it. 

She finishes calling for attendance, resorting to striding up and down the aisles as she begins to dissect the syllabus. In an effort to pretend he’s paying attention, Jisung glances down at the size twelve font on the page, skimming over the words without really taking anything in. During one of the professor’s paces, a pen she had resting on her ear slips and falls towards the ground with a slight clatter, and it seems a student picked it up for her, because there’s a slight mumbling, followed by a sharp “thank you,” and a very, very recognizable,

“You’re welcome, Professor.” 

His eyes widen at once. Alright, call him crazy, but now he thinks that it really might have been your voice. The familiar timbre, warm and delicate; a sound he’s heard for months on end and knows embarrassingly well… The thought of being in the same room as you out of sheer luck and coincidence makes his abdomen twist and his palms sweat so bad, he has to wipe them on his pants.

He hates that he can’t fully tell, in fact, he’s almost ashamed that he can’t; before today, Jisung would have sworn up and down that he knew your voice better than even his own, but you sound so far and so quiet that he can’t completely bet all of his marbles. Then, he quickly realizes calling it ‘your voice’ definitely makes him sound delusional, even in the safety of his own forgiving conscience. He decides to call it ‘the voice’ for now, at least until he’s a hundred-percent sure. 

An irritatingly long hour and half later, the only sound that continues to ring around the lecture hall is Professor Hwang’s monotone one, reciting each and every itemized assignment and rule on the never-ending syllabus. There’s less than fifteen minutes until class is over, and she shows no signs of stopping her dissertation. 

“As for the class project: In pairs of two, you will research a constellation extensively to create a presentation on its formation, who cataloged it, and the Greek myth that may accompany it. Please note that this is the first and last time we will talk about constellations in this class, since they are not cosmic phenomenons but instead, a mere roadmap to the objects and themes we will be focusing on. Consider this strictly as an opportunity to familiarize yourselves with another classmate and show me your interest and effort in the subject. That concludes our syllabus,” Thank God, Jisung thinks. 

 “Any questions?” She glances around at a hand that floats in the air, near the front of the room, “yes?” 

“Will we be able to select our partners?” 

“No. Partners will be assigned at the end of the week. Yes?” She calls on another hand. 

“As for the constellations,” Wait, that’s it! That’s the voice—that’s your voice, he’s completely sure of it!  “Will you assign those as well?” 

Jisung elongates his neck to try and peek over the heads in his way. It is you, he’s positive now, but you’re turned away from him, and he can’t fully make out which ‘back of the head’ is your ‘back of the head.’ The echo in the hall makes it nearly impossible to pinpoint who just spoke which means he can’t pinpoint you. For some reason, he finds himself slightly panicking, desperate to finally see you in person.

He follows Professor Hwang's line of sight as she answers that she’ll assign the constellations on Friday too, and finally finds you, seated between a few other students. A few more questions are thrown around, but his eyes never leave you, anticipating the moment he catches a glimpse of your face. 

Naturally, his first instinct is to approach you as soon as class is out, but when he sees you spin around to pick up your bag that hangs off your chair, he finds himself glued to his own flimsy seat. Feet stuck to the ground, legs not budging, and air hitched in his throat at the sight of you. 

You’re so, so much prettier than he could have imagined with whatever unoriginal features he tried to piece together in his lacking mind, and that fact makes him both exhilarated and completely nauseous. 

He’s barely been looking at you for a few seconds when he feels his insatiable cock growing fast in the confines of his pants, with no regard for its owner and the fact that he has to stand up within the next minute or so to exit the hall. Jisung curses under his breath, awkwardly rising to his feet when most of his classmates leave, his bag clutched tightly in front of his groin. He prays you don’t glance over, not even because he has a semi-hard on he’s failing to hide with dissimulation, but because he’s staring at you like some sort of freak and can’t seem to look away. 

There’s nothing he wants more than to come up to you and say hi and confess he’s the person you’ve been gaming with for months. He’s pictured it countless times before, you’d think he’d have it down by now, but your beauty is intimidating, and he simply cannot and will not make a fool of himself in front of you by greeting you with a raging boner. 

You walk out of the classroom and Jisung’s heart settles in his chest as he sits with his decision to stay anonymous for now. 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

“She was obnoxious, you have no idea!” 

“My teacher wasn’t much different,” he admits, a small, knowing smile toying at his lips, “she seemed like a real bitch,” 

It’s later that same evening, and talking to you doesn’t really feel the same anymore. It’s much harder, because now, Jisung can vividly picture you, sitting in your chair with your hands on your keyboard and mouse. Every word you say, his imagination is right thereafter, picturing your pretty face clear as day in the forefront of his mind. 

The moment he got home, he fucked his fist until he came in his hand. It took about five minutes, and then he pumped another one out in the shower, (a much needed shower, at that) where he finally washed away the remains of the night before. 

After he had lunch with Mark and the other boys from his floor, they had invited him to play basketball. At the same time, however, he received a direct message from you, explaining you didn’t have any other classes for the day and asking if he could get on earlier. 

It’s a little ridiculous, but now that he’s seen you, now that he knows you’re so much closer than he initially thought, he can’t wait to talk to you again. And so he quickly came up with an empty excuse related to his studies, took the berating from his friends like a champ, and rushed upstairs to log into his PC and open up your chat. 

“Not only do we already have a project, but we don’t even get to pick our partners.” 

I know! He thinks. 

“Like,” you start, and he pictures the way your cheeks fill up with air as you let out a huff, “what if I get stuck with some weirdo?” 

Instantly, Jisung stops palming himself, letting his hand climb back up to the mouse slowly.

He probably shouldn’t let that innocent statement affect him as much as it does, but he can’t help it. He has the advantage, right? Or, at least it seems that way. 

When everything is laid out, he has the upperhand of knowing who you are—you haven’t seen him, yet… but what if you did see him, and he wasn’t at all what you were expecting? Or even worse, what if you got paired together for the project and you thought he was weird or the two of you didn’t get along? That option is far less likely, since there are well over fifty students in AST1002. 

“I don’t know,” you start, “I’m considering switching out of the class-” 

“No!” Wow. Good going, Jisung.

He catches his slip-up and quickly blurts out, “I-I mean, it might not be that bad! You should… at least give it a shot before you try to switch out, right?” 

“I guess you’re right… The add and drop period at my school is until next Friday, so I'll try it out until then.” 

Great! Perfect! Good save. The only problem now is: Jisung has a little over a week and a half to somehow convince you to stay in his class and at the same time, not completely butcher his introduction to you. Approaching you now seems practically impossible, but he needs you to stay in the class, even if it means he has to come up to you first. He can’t be bothered to care that his insistence is for his own selfish intentions, if it means getting to see you three times a week. 

“But anyway,” he clears his throat, changing the topic as quickly as possible, “how did your other class go?” 

“Much better than the first, the teacher let us out early once he covered the books we’d be analyzing this semester and attendance isn’t mandatory since most of the material is online or in the library. I think I’ll swing by there one of these days to see if I can get ahead on some of the assignments.” 

“Oh, so you’re a nerd?” You gasp and smack his character in-game a few times. He laughs, calling out, “okay, okay, truce! You’re not a nerd then, just an overachiever.”

“How so?” 

“We’re barely a day into the semester and you’re already trying your homework that I’m sure isn’t due for at least a few weeks,” 

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s right. With a bit of playful flirtation twisted into your tone, you hum out, “What can I say? I like to please.” 

One of his eyebrows perks up, “is that right?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He can hear your smirk through the screen, and now, he can vividly picture it, too. 

Jisung scoffs, backing away from your character so that he’s out of your sight. He cowers into a corner in game;  this way, you don’t notice how he stops moving when his left hand leaves the w,a,s,d keys to cup and rub his needy bulge. 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

Wednesday’s class is somehow packed and entirely uneventful at the same time. The first of Professor Hwang’s dragging lectures is so loaded that Jisung actually thanks the heavens that he remembered to bring his laptop. Otherwise, his notebook would have been about halfway full already, and his hand? It would have fallen off. 

On another relevant note, he’s struggling to stay focused because today, he is sitting much closer to you. Intentionally, of course. There’s still a few rows between him and you, but in this new seat, he can glance at you as often as he’d like without straining his eyes or stretching out his neck to make his gawking painfully obvious. He can clearly make out your smooth skin, along with other details he wasn’t able to notice before like your beauty marks and your dainty earrings. You’re paying unfaltering attention to the class for the first hour, but after the sixty-minute mark, you appear to have become bored. He catches the way your pencil starts doodling along the corners of your notebook and it takes everything in him not to snort when you scribble down a wonky looking cat. 

He’s so distracted by you, that every couple of slides, he glances back to the projector to see that the class is now on an entirely different topic than the one he last managed to jot down. He doesn’t mind, though. You’re a much more enthralling sight than quasars and supernovas. 

Halfway through the lesson, you decide to peel off your little black cardigan and hang it on the back of your chair, exposing your arms and neck and shoulders to him. Your hair is tied up neatly right after, giving him all the more to gawk at and envision. Jisung has to remind himself that he’s in a classroom just so that he doesn’t start fantasizing about how it would feel to grip your hair up in a similar fashion and fill your throat up with his dick.

With great difficulty, he directs his focus to the board instead, typing quickly into his laptop all the notes he manages to catch before the slide changes again and Professor Hwang’s narrow eyes can scan the room to see who’s paying attention. 

When the class is over, you start talking with the girl next to you, aimlessly reaching back for your bag. The gesture makes your cardigan fall, and Jisung has to fully bite his tongue to keep himself from calling out your name and giving himself away. He waits to see if you’ll notice, or if someone nearby will alert you, but neither one happens. Instead, you stand up, still engrossed in your conversation, and make your way towards the door. Instantly, he jogs down the aisle and between the seats to grab it and wordlessly hand it to you, but by the time he makes a move to head in your direction, you’ve already left. 

He feels disappointed at first, but the feeling quickly shifts into relief. Wordlessly hand it to you? Does he want your first impression of him to be awkward and borderline rude? No and definitely no. This problem has a simple solution—it’s a blessing in disguise; he’ll take your cardigan home and bring it to you on Friday and maybe, if his courage allows, he can introduce himself then. 

“Hey! I noticed you left your sweater here last class. I brought it for you. Oh, and by the way, it’s me! I’m @sung.ie. How did I know it was you? I can recognize your voice across a huge lecture hall.”

Yeah… he’ll think more on that later. 

With your cardigan clutched in his fist, Jisung sighs, making his way outside and towards his bicycle. He tucks the clothing item into his backpack and pedals back home, wondering how he’s going to manage to give it back to you since you always get to and leave class before him.  

He knows some of his friends and dorm-mates have their own class today, they had exchanged schedules during lunch a few days ago, which leaves him to hope and pray you’ve decided to skip your class and get online. As he parks his bicycle downstairs and locks it, he slips his phone from his pocket and opens discord, but your bubble remains gray and cold. You’re offline. 

Maybe you haven’t gotten home yet. He checks his phone again when he gets upstairs, and again when he goes inside his dorm, tossing his bag aside and crashing on his bed. He checks after losing a round of candy crush, and again after replying to a text from his mom. 

By the looks of it, you were in class, or at the very least, not available for the moment. Jisung sighs, pretending he’s not actually as disappointed as he feels. It seems a bit dramatic to feel the need to kill time until he gets to talk to you again so he resorts to doing physics homework—a short baseline his teacher assigned that wouldn’t be graded—and tricking his brain into thinking the former is not what he’s actually doing. 

When he pulls his bag off his desk chair to grab his laptop, your cardigan comes into view, and he pauses to look at it. He sits like this for a moment, wondering if he should fold it nicely on his dresser so he can remember to take it to you, but his hands act before his mind can catch up, reaching in and basically shoving the material toward his face. 

With his nose buried in your scent, Jisung inhales deeply, sinking into his chair as his legs grow weaker. The trace of your floral softener is the first aroma he gets, and then, the smell of your perfume peeks through, soft and sweet and very fitting for you. Once more, his treacherous hands are acting for themselves and he’s suddenly undoing his belt single-handedly. 

Once his dick, growing by the minute, is out and clutched in his palm, he finally retracts your sweater. With little hesitation, he wraps it around his erection and pumps once, throwing his head back in immediate relief.

It’s a fucking miracle that his room is the last one at the end of the hall, and that his next door neighbors, Renjun and Jaemin, are both in their afternoon lectures, because nothing would have been able to muffle the wanton moan that rips from his chest as he strokes himself with your scent. His hips are bucking up into the air, and in only a few minutes, he’s broken a slight sweat. His balls tighten from sheer sensitivity at the act of fucking something directly related to you. 

A cry of your name, followed by a few more pumps and he’s coming inside your mangled cardigan, his white release breaching the thin material. It seeps through it like light through a veil, gathering thickly on top before spreading into a dark, wet patch. There’s a shudder that passes through his bones as he sits back, burying his cock into the fabric and keeping it there until he’s given up every last drop. 

The only thing that snaps him from his post-nut bliss, is the distinct discord ring-tone that blasts through his headset. His computer monitor turns on as your icon appears and simultaneously, his heart and dick both twitch. 

“Hello?” With his output device swung over his head, he presses the green ‘answer’ button and speaks into the mic, hiding his slight shortness of breath with a yawn. 

“I’m so glad you answered,” you beam, and he does too, “I was worried I had called while you were in class or something,” 

As he speaks, he wipes the remnants of his cum off with your cardigan and puts it aside on his desk, tucking his softening (and still very sensitive) dick away into his boxers, “No, you’re good. I had a class earlier today but now I’m free.” 

“What a relief,” you sigh, “Would you want to have a little homework ‘sesh’ with me? I just found out the library doesn’t have any available labs. I doubt I’ll be able to concentrate much with you but at least I'll be in good company.”

“Like an e-date?” 

“We can call it that,” you grin, then he pictures your expression becoming a gloom one to match your slightly sadder tone as you admit, “Sometimes I wish we went to the same school so we could meet up and study at a coffee shop.” 

He snorts, unable to help but crack a joke, “Like a real date?” 

Your laugh makes his heart swell slightly. When you reply, “Maybe,” it starts flipping wildly in his chest. 

God, you can’t even begin to imagine how badly he wants that. 

“That would be nice,” he agrees humbly, a blush creeping on his cheeks. “What class are you gonna study for?” 

There’s a pause before you speak again where you hum in thought, flipping through a few pages and shuffling through your bag. Jisung joins you, grabbing his laptop and school supplies, “I have a project for my astronomy class. It’s related to constellations and I wanna start researching them so that I can make an outline for the assignment,” 

He looks through his math notes with his brows furrowed down, “I thought she was gonna assign them on Friday?” 

Your icon flickers as you reply, “She is, but I want to—wait. How did you know that?” At your words and the realization of his untimely slip up, Jisung’s body goes rigid. He can only imagine the confusion on your features, and he’s quite relieved you can’t see the look on his. If his eyes were to open any wider, he’s sure they might just slip out of his head. 

“Oh, um,” he clears his throat mechanically, then gulps in an effort to lubricate it and keep his voice steady, assertive, certain. “You mentioned it on Monday, remember?” 

“Did I?” You didn’t, but he really hopes you think you did. “Probably,” At that, he lets out the air he’s holding, shaking his head slightly at himself for being so careless. 

“But um, yeah,” he starts before you can give it any further thought, “If she’s assigning them Friday why are you working on it today?” 

“Cause she’s also assigning partners on Friday, and I don’t really know anyone besides the girl who sits next to me and I doubt I’ll get paired with her. I want to make sure my grade is secured, you know? I’ve never liked group projects. I feel like all the work gets dumped on me.” 

He’s still not entirely sure what you mean to do, or how you intend to create a blueprint of sorts without knowing what it was for, and so he stops flicking through his page of notes to look up at his monitor and ask, “But if you don’t know which constellation you’re gonna work on, how are you gonna make an outline?” 

You ponder his question for a moment, then mumble out, “She didn’t mention a rubric or anything, so I figured that as long as I plan out the different sections and give the project a structure, half of the work is cut out, right? I can just assign parts at that point.” 

“You’re that kinda person in a group project? I’m sorry to whoever gets partnered with you,” He’s not sorry, not at all. He’s rather envious, actually, despite his attempts to sound indifferent or amusing. Being granted time to spend with you at your place or his, or at the library or the local campus cafe, would be a no less than perfect ice breaker. Jisung would make sure you never felt like all the research and assembling depended solely on you—in fact, he could see himself now, spending countless hours perfecting the details of his assigned part and inquiring about other suggestions to improve the project, just to impress you or at the very least, satisfy you. The reality that someone else would get to do all of that in his place is disheartening. 

You guys had rarely ever talked about school before now, since neither of you actually were enrolled in any classes when you started chatting, but now that it’s relevant, he feels like he understands a whole different side of you. You’re organized, and obviously very studious. Hell, you’ve been itching to get started on assignments that haven’t even been assigned yet. You’re responsible, dependable, funny, beautiful, and every time he thinks of you lately, he realizes that his innocent crush is slowly becoming an insatiable one.   

“Hey! I’d be very nice if it was you, you know. Show you some favoritism,” the corners of his lips twitch upwards—“But I’m also glad it’s not you,”—and fall down again. 

“What? Why?” He tries to not sound too offended. 

“I’d end up talking your ear off, Sung.” 

“I’m already used to that, don’t mind it. Kinda like it, actually.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” He nods curtly, even though there’s a monitor and an entire school campus between you and him and he knows you have no way of seeing his gesture. There's a moment of silence that you spend taking a brief breath as a glow tinges your cheeks. 

With a stifled laugh, you open your mouth again, “I think it’s just because you like me that you tolerate my rambling,” 

“No.” He’s quick to clarify, “I really do like it.” He loves it. 

“And me?” your voice is much quieter, almost giving the impression that you’re shy in asking something so decisive and direct. Jisung, emboldened by your vulnerability, and the distance the screen puts between you two, answers with certainty. 

“I like you, too.” 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

 “The constellation project, as I mentioned during your first class, is a tool for you to acquaint yourself with your classmates. It will be due in 3 weeks, and you can check the syllabus for specifications regarding that. After today, there will be no changing partners or constellations so should you need any changes to be made, you have until class is dismissed. Listen closely as I read out the pairs for the project. I will not repeat myself.” 

The sharp tone he’s growing more and more distaste for by the day drowns out as Jisung glances over at you. Today, you’re sporting a bone-colored long sleeve and corduroy pants with half of your hair held back in a shiny clip. You look ravishing. Truthfully, he can’t really tell if you’re wearing makeup or not—although he concludes it doesn’t matter. Your features are soft and pretty nonetheless, and your cheeks have turned rosy from the dropping autumn temperatures. 

“Yu Karina will be partnered with Lee Heesung. Your constellation is Cassiopeia.”

When you walked into the lecture hall this morning, there was a hot coffee cup with the campus cafe’s logo on it clutched in your hands, which you sipped on while shivering. Taking your usual seat, you greeted the girl next to you, who Jisung now knew was called Yu Karina. 

The dark haired girl perked up when Professor Hwang called her name and waved down the aisle at who he can only assume is Lee Heesung, her partner, then whispered something to you. You looked over at the boy and back at Karina, nodding and giggling with her. 

“Jennifer Huh, partnered with Ning Yizhuo,” Professor Hwang referenced her other list, “Constellation: Cancer.” 

The two girls greet each other with a look and a smile, but Jisung pays little mind. He’s listening intently—for the first time—in anticipation of hearing one of your names be called. He doesn’t exactly know your full name, only a nickname he refers to you as, the one attached to your discord handle. Otherwise, pinpointing you that first day of class would’ve been much easier. 

“Park Jay and Lee Sohee, your constellation is Orion.” 

Sitting there, he realizes that in all the months you’ve talked, he’s never once asked for your full first name. Is that strange? What kind of friend is he if he doesn’t even know your name? In all fairness, you never asked for his, either, so he supposes it’s okay. Would have been useful to know, though, at times like this. 

After his small confession of ‘like’ on Wednesday, the two of you went on studying your respective subjects, with the occasional (and inevitable) distraction here and there. Admittedly, he thought his comment would be forgotten rather quickly. It wasn’t like he outwardly poured his heart out to you, so he figured you’d move on and just crack a joke or two about it later. There was a change, though; a strikingly obvious one to Jisung, who hangs on your every word like it’s a tether that keeps him from floating. And, even if he didn’t pay such close attention to you, there’s no way he could have missed the new flirtatious ambiance that flourished afterwards. Flirting with you is not uncommon by any means—the two of you playfully tease each other with frequency, but it’s nothing he’d allow himself to look into too much, for his own sake. 

That changed in the hours following his comments. All of Wednesday evening, the two of you went back and forth, feeding each other compliments in the form of banter. Again, he thought it would end there, but on Thursday afternoon when you logged on, he asked how your progress was going with the outline, to which you texted back, “I was thinking of you all day. Didn’t get around to doing much else.” 

It wasn’t the only message from you that nurtured his feelings, either. There were enough substantially flirty messages from your conversation that night, that he was able to scroll through them and reread them a few times before bed. 

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 6:49PM

hi did you smile when you saw my name pop up on your phone just now

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 8:22 PM

you’re so cute

i can barely think 

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 9:14 PM

i feel like my day doesn’t make sense if we don’t talk 

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 10:58 PM

i should get to sleep 

but i don’t wanna stop texting you

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 12:02 AM

goodnight, sung <3 miss you til’ you’re back

Now, as he eyes you with a boyish, lovesick gaze, watching you doodle your stupid little drawings as you await your assignment, he finds himself praying for the courage to come up to you after class.

Professor Hwang calls your name next, something he only realizes at the fitting similarity of your nickname and the way your pen meets the table in alert to being called on, head lifting up and eyes blinking expectantly. 

“Your partner will be,” 

Jisung holds his breath, chanting in his head ‘please, oh, please let it be me,’

 “Lee Chan.” 

Wishful thinking never got anyone anywhere, then. He ignores the way his heart sinks into the pits of his stomach, unable to help but observe your curious gaze as it looks around the filled seats. For a fleeting moment, you meet his eyes, but he doesn’t react or claim to be Lee Chan who you so evidently are in search of, and so you pass him and keep studying the aisles. After a few seconds, you find no one gazing back, even after you slightly stand to peer above the nearby heads that obscure your view. 

“Your constellation is-” 

With a cautious raise of your hand, you interrupt Professor Hwang gently, “Excuse me, Professor, but I don’t think my partner is here.” 

For a moment, her lazer-like gaze looks like it could light you on fire, a consequence of daring to interrupt her, but it softens only slightly as she realizes the truth in your statement, scanning the room herself and calling out for the missing boy. Upon receiving no call back, she thinks for a moment, then looks back down at her clipboard and crosses something out. 

“I did mention attendance was mandatory, didn’t I?” This she mutters to herself, “No matter. Instead, you’ll work with,” she gives the paper another once over, then clicks her pen and speaks, “Park Jisung.” 

In an awkward burst of both excitement and confusion, Jisung darts out of his chair. His knee hits his desk with a clang, and his laptop would have gone flying if it wasn’t for his quick hands that catch it before it can fall. The loud ruckus turns several heads in his direction, including Professor Hwang’s and more importantly, yours. 

Feeling an awful lot like a deer caught in headlights, Jisung blinks as the two of you make eye-contact, then he takes his seat again, very quickly by the way. “Uh, that’s me,” he announces, heat spreading across his face and eyes darting around, “Sorry.” 

Does he feel more sorry to his teacher and classmates for disrupting the classroom, or to himself and you for the absolute fool he has just made of himself? As much as he’d like to tear his gaze away from yours and cast it to the ground in embarrassment, it remains stuck on you, awaiting your impending reaction. 

You’re rather unsure how to feel, though given, a little surprised at the commotion. You offer him a small smile through pursed lips, and Jisung nods, willing with all his might for a hole to open in the ground beneath him and swallow him.  

“Thank you, Mr. Park, for your remarkably clear confirmation. Your constellation is Gemini.” 

You turn in your chair to face the front again, scribbling down his name in the corner of your notebook, as well as the constellation you’d been assigned.

“He’s cute,” Karina comments to you as you look over at her, and you finally let out a small laugh you had been holding in. 

“He is. Clumsy,” you snort, “but cute.” 

“We both got cute partners. We should meet up at the library later and all get started on the project together,” 

You nod enthusiastically, going back to your outline that sits at the ready on your laptop screen and making quick work of labeling the different sections evenly. If it wasn’t so obvious for you to spin around and steal a glance, you might have done so again. You’re certainly tempted to, thinking back to seconds ago and realizing you hadn’t really noticed him the last two classes. 

Jisung watches your exchange with his dignity at serious risk. He’s entirely unable to hear or make out what you’re saying to each other, and it makes his pulse pick up and his mind race. He considers many things as he watches the two of you talk: firstly, asking to change his partner, but then realizing that would be an awful idea. Once you knew who he was, how would you ever forgive him for immediately ditching you? Absolutely not. Cowering had gotten him nowhere so far. 

Then, he considers switching out of the class himself, and disappearing, never to reveal himself to you—but that wasn’t the right thing to do either. Incapable of checking out of your life so quickly and denying himself the treat that is seeing you three times a week (and now, possibly more), he cans that idea, too. 

As Professor Hwang finishes reading off the list of names, he begins planning what he’ll actually say to you, as that conversation is just minutes away. There’s less than a half-hour left of class, which means he has to think hard and fast. 

As he busies himself with the grueling task of picking an appropriate and redeeming introduction, he doesn’t hear the new instructions from Professor Hwang, which are to find your partner and begin brainstorming, as well as exchanging schedules to set aside time outside of class to work on the presentation. A shadow falls over his desk and consumes his work space in darkness. When his curiously squinted eyes trail up to find the source, only to land on you, hovering above him with your things clutched in your arms, he grips his seat to keep from jumping out of it for the second time today. 

“Is this seat taken?” 

So much for having time to figure out how to approach you. His heart does a leap of surprise in his chest in place of his physical body, and he resists the urge to clutch it.

“No.” He replies shortly. 

With your unfaltering, kind smile still present on your face, you laugh softly and place your things down, introducing yourself. 

“You’re Ji-sun, right?” 

“—Sung.” he politely corrects you. When you don’t immediately react, he wonders if you had even heard him. He doesn’t put it past himself to have imagined that he replied to you, between his sweating palms and nervous jittering, and your pretty self sitting just a foot away, he’s barely keeping it together.  After a moment that feels infinitely longer than it actually is, you raise your eyebrows slightly, round lips parted to ask your question with a palpable hesitance. 

“W-what?” 

“Jisung,” he quickly replies, pronouncing the ‘g’ clearly and masking the way his eyes widen with a heavy blink that honestly, may not serve as any better of a guise. He pleads with himself to get his shit together but luckily, you don’t seem to notice. 

“Oh, sorry… Sorry, It’s just—nevermind. Hi, Jisung.” 

“Hi, Y/N.” He savors the way your name feels on his tongue but keeps his enjoyment brief. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” you start, lifting the screen of your laptop to reveal the very same outline you had started working on during your last call with him, “but I already made an outline. If you wanna scrap it and start all over, we can—” 

“No, It’s fine, we can use this,” when you give him an unsure look, he smiles reassuringly, “It looks brilliant.” 

“Thank you.” There’s a pause that is filled only by you clearing your throat, “Ok, I have a literature class right after this one on Mondays and Wednesdays. The rest of my classes are online, so I’m free at any time, really. I usually like to study at the computer labs in the library, it’s nice and private there and I find it much easier to focus. But if you don’t want to go there, we could always go to the cafe or the square for some fresh air. Oh, and either one of our dorm rooms works fine if you’re okay-” 

To experience your presence on a phone call is one thing, but to experience it in real life, with your clear voice so arresting and your silky, smooth lips within reach, is absolutely mesmerizing. He’s fighting the urge to glance down at your mouth, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to sustain eye contact, as lovely as he decides your eyes are. Another thing that is becoming exponentially harder, and more sensitive all the same, is his cock, springing to life with an eagerness to greet you. 

There’s a bit of panic that flashes across his features as he senses the strain it’s causing in his pants, and only when you look down at your outline does he dare to sneak a glance down at his own groin where as expected, a noticeable imprint was beginning to develop. In a desperate gesture, he slides his notebook over his lap, suppressing a hiss, and leans forward to pretend to use his own laptop. 

“Any of those work for me,” 

“Okay, great,” You notice the time and turn back to him. “You can just message me when you’re free.”

“Sure.” 

“And here’s my number—” you reach over, sliding the protective notebook from his lap and placing it on your desk, scribbling your number in the corner. Jisung immediately readjusts his hoodie, throwing the hem of it over his boner. Professor Hwang dismisses the class as you pass it back. 

“Call me whenever you’re free.” With a spin of your heel, you wave goodbye to him and rejoin Karina, who waits for you  at the door with her partner.

Jisung lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and looks down at the number you wrote. Beside the digits, written in very neat handwriting, might he add, sat perched on a wobbly branch a little black cat that he recognized from his hours of staring as one of your doodles. 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The time is 4:33PM, and Jisung has drafted over a dozen messages on the iMessage app addressed to your number. None of them have exactly made it to you yet, courtesy of his thumb that keeps pressing backspace and wiping out any trace of a remotely embarrassing text. It’s the next day and no introduction or invitation to meet up seems like it’s good enough to send, though he knows that inevitably, he has to text you first. You left your number behind with the doodle that he has since stuck to the corner of his PC monitor, but you never took down his; so now, the ball is in Jisung’s court, and he knows that if he waits too long, you’d think he was avoiding you or the project altogether. 

Realistically, he knows a simple “Hi, it’s Jisung,” will suffice, but he can’t bring himself to send you such an unoriginal and boring message. After pondering for a moment, he then decides the best solution would be to do some research, and then call you with his findings—this way, his interest in the project would be clear, and he knows how important that is to you. 

At once, he peels your cum-stained cardigan off of his lap, though not before stealing a glance at the day’s new additions, and places it aside. He tucks his spent dick into his short and turns on his monitor, typing the name of the constellation into Google and investigating nearly every website he could find with any useful information. 

In the nicest handwriting he can manage, Jisung bullets a list of all the facts and history he could find on ‘Gemini’ within the hour, including the stars that make up the constellation, the myth behind it, and other relevant statistics. It isn’t until he has filled up an entire page front and back—partially—that he picks up his phone again and makes another attempt at contacting you. 

Feeling slightly more confident, he types up his message. 

To: 555-111-0205

hi, it’s jisung from astronomy. i did some research and i wanted to show you what i found. let me

know if you’re free to exchange notes. Sent at 5:52 PM.

Jisung rereads over his message for any flaws, though there’s nothing he can do about it now that it’s sent, anyway. After he deems it an okay first message, he takes a breath and moves to put his phone down, but it buzzes in his hand instead. 

Incoming call at 5:54 PM From: 555-111-0205

“Hi-”

“Hi! Sorry to just call unannounced but I’m walking to the library with all my stuff and I can’t really text. I was able to book us a computer lab for the next two hours so If you want, we—can you hear me?” 

He sits up straighter, “Yeah! Yes, I can hear you,” 

“Oh, good, so—wait, hello?” Your voice shifts in volume and proximity, as if you pulled your phone from your ear to check the call screen, then brought it back, “Oh, sorry. I-I thought I had accidentally called someone else… nevermind.” Instantly, Jisung realizes instantly that you must have recognized his voice. It makes sense, seeing as you’re used to hearing it specifically on calls. You seem to show no further suspicion as you continue speaking, though, but perhaps, he should keep talking on the phone with you to a minimum. 

“Do you think you can make it? Otherwise I can go work on my own. I saw your text and instantly booked the room. Sorry for not checking in with you first,” 

“I’ll meet you there,” He replies quickly, grimacing at the instinctual effort it takes to try and make his voice deeper. 

“Okay! Great. I’ll see you there, then.” You hang up, and then your text message comes through with the lab room information just minutes later. 

Jisung all but lunges out of his chair and rushes to face himself in the mirror, taking in his reflection. Besides his hair that looks slightly disheveled, he looks alright. He doesn’t want to make you wait long for him, so he quickly grabs his laptop and his notes, shoves them all into his bag, and flies out of his dorm room with the laces of his sneakers left untied.  

In the brightly, yellow-lit hallway, Mark and Chenle are popping out of their respective rooms, a basketball clutched under the younger boy’s arm.

“We were just about to come grab you,” Chenle starts, “Let’s play some ball. Jeno’s meeting us at the court,”

“Can’t,” Jisung shakes his head, “I’m going to the library,” he tries to not get offended at the way the two boys snort loudly in disbelief, looking at each other as if they’ve both had the same thought. 

“Yeah, right.” Chenle scoffs. 

With a blink, Jisung replies meekly, “I’m serious.” 

“Since when do you go to the library?” Mark brows pinch and he adds, “It’s the start of term. You’re already studying?”

“Since now, I guess. I have a project for a class so I’m gonna go meet up with my partner at the library, but I’ll catch you guys later.” 

“Alright, alright. Oh—remember there’s a party next week at Jaehyun’s frat for syllabus week.” 

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” His answer doesn’t seem to fully convince Mark, Chenle, or even himself, but they seem satisfied enough, because they let Jisung go without any more pestering. He flies down the flight of stairs and out the front door of the dormitory. 

The cold September air is biting at this time in the evening, feeling particularly cool on the apples of his cheek, which glow from the light layer of sweat that develops during his jog over to the library. It’s a considerable distance away, which is part of the reason why he, in his two years of being a student at the university, has never seriously stepped foot inside of it. Studying in his room is much more convenient, but you seem to like the library, so the twenty-minute-walk there, or in this case, fifteen-minute-jog, will simply have to be adopted as a new way to get in some brief exercise a few times a week. 

More than likely, you have already arrived, and Jisung doesn’t want to make you wait too long for him, especially since there’s a two-hour time limit on the room and he intends to spend as much time with you there as he can. He wipes his cheeks with his gray sleeves and climbs up the stairs of the building quickly, swiping his student card at the door and stepping inside. 

The ceiling is massively tall, seemingly taller than when he once saw it during freshman orientation, and the endless rows of shelves are filled with books, ranging from thin, colorful novels to thick, leather-bound classics. It’s quieter than he expects it to be, even for a library, and he clearly can hear the pitter patter of his feet as he follows the sign labeled ‘Study Rooms and Computer Labs.’ 

The guy at the reception desk in this section seems to be a volunteer, his student ID and name tag shining on his shirt. He glances up from his book when Jisung approaches, nodding once. There’s an awkward silence that feels rather loud as Jisung fumbles with his phone, flipping it between his clammy hands as he searches for your message. 

“Computer Lab 4C?” 

Wordlessly, the boy nods again, then slides over a clip-board with a sign-in sheet clamped to it. 

It’s surprising to see how many lab spots are filled up so early into the term, names scribbled along the lines and time-slots. Your name stands out, partly because of your familiar handwriting, but particularly because of the empty line beside it, where he signs in before handing the clip-board back. 

“Down the hall, second door on your right.” 

It’s Jisung’s turn to bob his head once and the boy looks back down at his book. He makes his way down the hall until he reaches the correctly labeled door. His hand reaches for the handle, but he withdraws it. Should he knock? Or maybe send you a text? Or both? 

To: 555-111-0205

hey again. i’m outside :) Sent at 6:18 PM.

The door creaks open from the taps of his knuckles bumping against it, and he peeks his head in timidly, finding you sitting in one of the desk chairs, nearly hidden behind your laptop and a stack of books. You look up over the screen, eyes squinting in a smile. 

“Oh, I had left the door open for you,” you stand up, holding out a cup for him, “and I got you coffee… didn’t know how you liked it so I just got you the same thing I order,” 

There’s a fluttering in his stomach as he sets his bag down. There’s no chance he can manage to meet your eyes after such a gesture so he casts them to the ground instead, graciously reaching out to receive with both hands the drink you offer him, “You didn’t have to,” he mumbles, “but thank you. I’m sure your order is great,” 

“I wanted to! It’s just—I mean, I did drag you out of your room in the cold and on really short notice—A hot coffee was the least I could do,” you shrug, “One of my friends works at the cafe and I was there doing some work for my literature class before I got your message and I figured I’d grab us both something before I headed over here… Sorry, I’m talking too much. Here, sit down.” 

He’s not exactly sure what to say, so he takes his seat beside you in silence, but not without a small smile decorating his face. The notes he had taken down to show you are retrieved from his bag, as well as his laptop. There’s a low screech of your chair dragging across the floor, and he turns to find you’ve scooted closer and you're leaning forward with your cheek resting on your palm, eyes intently looking at his research. 

“It isn’t much. I’m sure whatever you found is much more substantial, but I couldn’t show up empty handed.” Jisung explains, sliding the paper over to you. As your eyes scan the page, you make a few comments along the lines of ‘Oh, this is a good point,’ or ‘We should mention this.’

You seem to be very carefully reading his work. Meanwhile, he takes advantage of your preoccupation to let his eyes rake over your person. 

The first thing he notices is that you’re wearing a different cardigan, and he suddenly remembers your black one is still on his desk, unwashed and covered in his cum. Your hair looks soft, and when you mindlessly swing it over your shoulder, he catches a whiff of your lavender scented hair wash, and it makes him gnaw the inside of his cheek. You’re not quite close enough for him to catch the perfume you’ve decided to wear tonight, though he can vividly picture the gentle florals that linger still on your cardigan. His eyes trail down, and it’s only then that he notices your skirt—or blatantly, the length of your skirt. Your smooth thighs are exposed, full and fleshy and pressed together, and he suddenly wishes they were wrapped around his head. 

“Jisung? You okay?” 

“I–Yeah, sorry.” It’s clear that you’ve noticed his staring, and he all but rips his eyes away in embarrassment, “I was just wondering if you were cold,” He gestures down at your legs shyly, pretending the content he’d written on the paper was more interesting the sight of your plush thighs. 

For a moment he expects some harsh comment or outburst, but you laugh instead, smoothing the material down a bit, “No, not in here, at least. And the walk over was short, so,” His lips are pursed and his cheeks are burning, but you spare him from any further humiliation when you reach across him to turn the page over and quietly gasp, muttering some surprise under your breath at how extensive his work is. “This is really good. We can use pretty much all of it.” 

Failing to hide his beaming at your praise, he snaps his head over to you, “You think so?” 

“Yeah, I mean—,” The screen of your laptop changes over to a page of notes, “I pretty much wrote down all the same things. I’m actually so relieved, I was worried I might get paired up with someone who wasn’t gonna contribute.” 

“Bet you’re glad you didn’t switch out of the class now, huh?” 

Distracted in the notes and in the taste of his coffee, he misses your quick, confused glance his way. Smoothly recovering before he notices, you slowly nod and present to him the layout where you had already taken the liberty to assign him his designated parts. Not that he expected anything else; it’s endearing to see his name labeled over specific sections, color-coded in a blue, bolded font. He wastes no time in pulling up the screen of his computer, exchanging emails with you so the two of you can get to work on the shared document.

The time passes quicker than he hopes, and he realizes just how much he likes spending time with you. Talking with you online is one thing, but sitting beside you as you sip your drink and hum mindlessly, fingers typing away or flipping pages in a book? Completely different game. He’s sure that if it wasn’t because he relieved himself earlier today, he might have popped a boner from the simple act of being in your presence. 

Every once in a while, you make an occasional comment regarding a point or two you thought was worth mentioning or adding, and he’d oblige, making a note of it and sharing his thoughts here and there. Occasionally, he manages to steal a look at your thighs, which he swears you’re bouncing and squeezing together on purpose, but for the most part he keeps his focus on the task at hand. 

Towards the end of the night, there’s a moment where your hands brush his as you point something out on his screen, and Jisung swears he’s never felt more like a teenage boy in his life. He practically flinches at the contact, failing to mask his awkward reaction and pretending he really meant to fix his hair.

Bidding you farewell is possibly the most difficult of the tasks this evening, even more so than pretending he isn’t completely infatuated with and aroused by you for a whole two hours. When you stand from your seat and walk with him out of the study room, and subsequently, out of the library and into the cold, Jisung faces another of his many dilemmas related to you. He’s not sure if he should offer to walk you back to your dorm, or at the very least halfway there. Perhaps, offering you his jacket would be appropriate, since your skirt wasn’t doing much of a job at keeping you warm. 

“You live close by?” 

“Yeah! Just a 5 minute walk,” you point your index finger, “In that dorm right over there.” 

Jisung nods once, then decides to indulge his impulses. “Here,” he slides his hoodie off with a little less coordination than he would’ve liked, holding it out for you to take, “so you aren’t cold.” 

He can’t tell if your cheeks are red from the temperature again or from his gesture, but he hopes it’s the latter. The moment you take his sweater, pretty eyes wide in thanks, he sucks in a breath. It’s much chillier now that the sun is gone, and he fights the urge to chatter his teeth when he offers you a lopsided smile. 

“T-thank you,” you tie the sleeves around your waist, covering your lap. 

 “I’ll see you in class?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” you nod, flashing him a final grin before you spin on your heel to head home. 

The twenty-minute-walk-fifteen-minute-jog back to his room feels eternal. All of his hair is standing on end, but picking up his pace too much means that the icy wind, which has so graciously decided to blow in his direction, would just become harsher. His palms soak up the little warmth on his stomach, tucked under his t-shirt, as he alternates between speed-walking and jogging. The minutes drag on and on until finally, his building comes into view and he breaks into a run. 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The following morning when he walks into his astronomy class, he follows his usual routine of checking for you in your seat and is almost distraught when he finds it to be empty. It’s not like you to miss a class, and he contemplates reaching for his phone to check-in on you. It isn't until he pans his vision over to his own chair that he spots you. You’re accompanied by Karina and her partner, Heesung, taking up the empty seats beside his own. 

On your desk sit two coffee cups like the ones from last night, and he pulls his lip between his teeth to hide the grin that fights to break out.

You look up when you spot him, and Karina and Heesung look up, too. 

“Hi…” 

“Hi! Jisung, right?” Karina extends her hand out and he takes it, nodding to confirm, “I’m Karina and this is Heesung.” He mumbles another small hello to the boy, who acknowledges him before looking back at his computer.

“Good morning,” you greet as he sits, placing his cup on his desk. “You never told me whether you liked it or not, but I figured you’d grow to like it eventually.”

“I-thanks but,” 

“I know: Didn’t have to, but I wanted to. So just say thanks, yeah?” 

There’s a familiar burning on his cheeks that always seems to make an appearance when you’re around, but he doesn’t bother masking it this time. 

“I wanted to ask you if you would be free to study tonight?” 

Instantly, he bobs his head up and down, and you book the study room on your computer just moments before Professor Hwang strides inside the classroom, her glasses on the tip of her sharp, pointed nose. 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The frat house where the seniors stay is practically next door to Jisung’s dormitory, which is why when Mark, Chenle, and Jeno come banging on his door on Saturday night, he realizes he can’t use walking so far in the cold as an excuse to stay home. He also can’t use studying as an excuse anymore, since Mark had already caught him leaving the dorm a few times throughout the week to go study with you. That, and he ran into Jeno as he was entering the library just the night before. 

“You’ve been studying plenty,” they’d say, or “We told you about the party last week, no way you’re not going.” 

Anyway—the point is, he’ll have to endure tonight, despite his wishes to stay close to his PC for the chance that you’d want to hop into a game. He’d prefer to spend the night talking with you, but that’ll just have to wait until tomorrow. With a somber look on his face, he shrugs on a jacket and opens the door for his friends, who practically drag him outside. 

Jeno slings his arm over the taller boy’s shoulders as if to prevent him from fleeing, and the four of them climb down the stairs and onto the path toward the frat. If Jisung strains his ears, he can already pick up on the sounds of the party, even from here. 

“You think Chaewon will be there?” Mark asks no one in particular, but the boys all respond simultaneously with groans of distaste. 

“You dated her three semesters ago, why do you care?” Chenle starts, “isn’t she seeing Jungwoo now, anyway?”  

“That’s exactly why I care,” Mark grumbles, foot kicking a rock along the pavement. “He’s one of the RAs. If he’s there—” 

“He’s always there,” Chenle interjects, earning a glare. 

“—then she’ll be there, too.” 

“So, what happened with… what’s her name,  Minjeong? Why don’t you hang out with her?” 

“Nah,” He turns to Jeno, “She’s sweet and all, but I found out from Giselle that her and Chaewon are friends, so,” 

There’s a chorus of understanding, albeit a bit pitiful, “aah’s” and “oh’s” as the building comes into view. A few people are gathered at and around the entrance while others litter the parking lot with phones and solo cups in their hands as they wait for friends. Among them, and Jisung has to do a double take to make sure, he spots Karina, who waves someone down from the direction of the main courtyard. For a moment, he thinks it might be you who appears from between the treeline, but it’s Heesung who jogs over to meet her and he realizes how silly his thought was in the first place. 

In the months he’s known you, you’ve never once brought up a party. In retrospect, you don’t seem like the type to like partying at all. He can picture you clearly now, tearing through textbooks or novels for your literature class, or maybe even typing away to him on Discord and asking if he was online. 

He isn’t and can’t be tonight, and he’s very sorry about that, for the record. 

Maneuvering through the crowd of tipsy college students isn’t too difficult,and neither is their entry. The door is propped open, and Jaehyun, with his signature snapback that he wears backwards on his dark hair, calls them over from the drink bar. 

“First problem I see here,” he starts, “is that none of you have a cup in your hand.” 

“We’ve barely made it through the door, man,”  Mark laughs, clapping up Jaehyun and moving aside so he can greet the rest of the guys. 

“That’s no excuse, you should be sipping on something by now.” He waves his arm, “Take a look around, boys! This is what life is gonna look like for you guys next year—and the year after for you, Jisung.” 

Jisung gives a curt, disinterested nod amidst being handed some fruity, fizzy, white claw resemblant that probably wouldn’t taste much different from an Alka-Seltzer. He cracks it open upon being prompted to by Jaehyun, who initiates a “cheers” between the friend group. The moment the alcohol touches his tongue, Jisung grimaces, taking a few long chugs in hopes that the effect will kick in quicker and make the long night that awaits him a little less long. 

“Do you know if Chaewon is here?” 

Wordlessly, Jaehyun fixes his cap and points a single finger toward the couch, where Chaewon sits besides Jungwoo, leaning in to hear him over the music and giggling at whatever he says in her ear. The boys look over at the couple, then quickly glance back at Mark, whose face falls despite the fact that he knew to expect this. 

“Tough,” Jeno gives him a pat on the shoulder, “Hope you have better luck the rest of the night. I’ve gotta bounce,” 

“Yo, what do you mean bounce?” 

He gestures toward a girl standing near the beer pong table, who looks slightly familiar to Jisung, though he can’t quite put his finger on it, and smirks, “She smiled at me the moment we walked in. I’ll see you later, but I honestly hope I don’t.” 

The realization that his friends, in search of their hook-ups for the night, would eventually be abandoning him one-by-one kicks in just then, inviting Jisung to down the rest of his bubbly drink in one go. 

Mark rolls his eyes, “You ever notice Jeno is always the first one to get a girl?” His comment earns a few hums of agreement.

“I’m gonna go find Jaemin,” with his phone clutched in his hand, Chenle turns towards the door, “he just texted me he’s outside with Sullyoon and her friend.” 

“Wait, Jaemin is—he’s setting you up and not me?” Chenle only shrugs at Mark’s question, replying with a blunt and concise “yeah.” 

“I’m not a dog like Jeno though, so I’ll definitely see you guys later.” 

As if noticing he was facing the same unfortunate fate as Jisung, Mark turns to the youngest boy with a fearful look in his eyes. Jisung only shakes his head and takes a quick look around, “I’m not planning on hooking up with anyone here, so…” At this, the boy sighs in relief, handing Jisung another drink in solidarity. The two lean against the counter as Jaehyun looks between them, snorting. 

“Mark, there’s so many girls here.” 

“I know, but—” 

“But Chaewon.” 

Mark nods, echoing Jaehyun in a quiet, maybe even embarrassed voice, “But Chaewon…” 

“Don’t worry, I get it,” he adds sympathetically, “I’m caught up on my ex, too.” 

“Uh…” there’s a pause. “Which one?” This comment lands Mark a shove, playful, for the most part. He rubs his shoulder and hisses while Jaehyun, on the other hand, sloshes around the little liquid left in his cup and grabs the closest bottle of alcohol to him, along with whichever random mixer he finds first.

“The only one that really mattered.” He tilts his newly filled red cup back to drink from it, but his eyes peek over the rim and he pulls it from his lips to sigh out,  “Speak of the devil and she doth come,” he raises his brows and announces, “there she is now.” 

Following his line of sight, Jisung trails his vision toward the front entrance and at once, the sight makes each and every one of his limbs seize up. There’s a twisting and turning in his stomach that almost invites the seltzer he chugged to make a reappearance, and he’s pretty sure the color has drained from his face as he watches you walk inside the frat house behind Karina and Heesung. 

So many things go through his mind in such a short amount of time that he fears he may have had some sort of out-of-body experience or hallucination episode; it wasn't really you he was seeing, it couldn’t be. The way your skirt clings to your hips makes him grip his cup tighter within his sweating palm, and the lacy, corset top you’ve decided to wear, which shows off a tasteful bit of cleavage, causes him to swallow down the saliva that had pooled on his tongue. 

It was a more provocative outfit than he’d even seen you wear, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Jaehyun opened his mouth to speak, he’s sure he would’ve instantly become bricked up. 

“And of course she’s wearing that shirt…” Jaehyun fixes his cap for the second time tonight and straightens out his shirt, “Alright, wish me luck.” 

It’s not like Jisung would have interjected anyway, he didn’t really have the grounds to, but he couldn’t even entertain the thought before Jaehyun headed in your direction with decisive confidence. Part of him hopes he was referring to someone else as his ex, perhaps even Karina, since there isn’t another girl in your immediate vicinity besides her, but his bit of hope is crushed as he spots Heesung’s hand intertwined in hers. Surely, Jaehyun wouldn’t be coming up to her if she showed up with someone to his party. It leaves him to reach his regretful conclusion just as his friend and you make eye contact, recognition flashing across your features, along with something else. 

Unable to torture himself further by watching your exchange, Jisung tears his eyes away and grabs another drink to make this very, very long night ahead of him somewhat bearable. He turns to Mark, who he didn’t even realize had been talking this whole time, but the loud music and the cloudiness in his mind muffle out his speech. 

“—I mean this just sucks! I guess we still have each other, maybe we can find some girls who—” 

When did you even date Jaehyun? You hadn’t mentioned him once in the months he had known you. And also, why  did you date Jaehyun? Not that there was anything wrong with him, other than his habit of cycling through girls every semester. Mark’s “Which one?” comment had some truth to it, but he would have never expected you to have been on Jaehyun’s roster. It takes him a second to remember that Jaehyun is still his friend, but even then, he can’t fight the bitterness that settles in his bones. What did he mean when he said that you were the only one that mattered? How significant was your relationship with him? There’s too many questions circling his mind, and it isn’t until he downs the fifth drink that they start to blur. 

Currently, he’s passing the time conversing with Mark and following him around the party, but more importantly, avoiding you in fear he’ll steal a glance and you’ll be locking lips with your ex. He spots Jaehyun by the bathroom a bit into the night, but thankfully, you aren’t near him. It’s in the middle of a beer pong game with Mark when he dares to glance around in search of you. 

First, he spots Karina and Heesung, making out on the couch where Chaewon and Jungwoo once sat. You aren’t near them. Then he spots Jaemin and Chenle dancing with the girls they had met up with, but you aren’t dancing, either. 

He’s relieved to find you aren’t with Jaehyun when he spots him, finding instead that his friend is flirting it up with a different girl who is certainly not you. The sight completely pisses him off, and somehow makes him feel immense relief simultaneously. Right around this time, he decides he’s had more than enough of the party. You aren’t here anymore, and Jaehyun’s face is making him fucking sick. Mark is slurring his speech enough that he wouldn’t notice if Jisung just slipped, so he does just that, though he does make sure to mention to Chenle that he’s leaving on his way out so he can keep an eye on Mark.  

Outside, the cold is unbearable. The previously crowded lot is empty for the most part, except for a few people puffing clouds of smoke into the air by a bench. Not even the alcohol in his system is enough to warm him up, so he can’t even imagine how a joint could be worth sitting outside for.

The only other person sitting outside is squatted down by the curb with their knees curled up to their chest. As the autumn leaves crack under Jisung’s feet, they turn their head around. 

“I told you I don’t wanna—Jisung?” 

Your big eyes widen in his direction, and you shoot up from the ground. Jisung’s brow lowers in concern and he notices the only thing you have to cover up is a flimsy cardigan. You and your damn, flimsy cardigans. 

“What are you doing out here?” 

“Sorry for snapping I—sorry,” you shiver involuntarily as a gust of wind blows through, wrapping your arms around yourself, “I thought you were someone else.” 

There isn't a sliver of hesitation before Jisung shrugs off his leather jacket and begins to wrap it around you, grumbling, “Are you crazy? You must be freezing,” 

“I’m fine—“ 

“This should help,” 

“But- Jisung, how many of your jackets am I gonna take—” 

“As many as you need to.” Your lack of a response makes him look back up to meet your eyes, round and much warmer than the rest of you was right now. He clears his throat, guiding your sleeves into the arms of the jacket as he jokes, “or until you bring your own.” 

You smile, muttering a small ‘thank you’ as the warmth engulfs you, along with the smell of him and some cheap cologne only a college student would buy. He’s tugging the collar closer to cover up your exposed neck and chest, eyes flickering down at your bare skin despite being well aware that you’re looking. Where this newfound boldness came from tonight, he doesn’t know. What he does know is that his boldness is always rather short-lived when it comes to you, and tends to appear and disappear like random spurts of energy—he’ll take advantage of it this once. Especially now that he knows you’re Jaehyun’s ex and the most he might even get to do is gawk at you, he intends to make it worth it. 

“You must be freezing now, though,” you start, “should we go somewhere warm?” 

“How about the library?” 

You laugh, looking at him in disbelief, “The library isn’t open at this time, much less on the weekend,” “Right…” 

“Wanna go to mine?” Your suggestion makes his breath hitch for a second, but he manages to respond with decent clarity. 

“You live by the library, though. That’s like a half-hour walk. I don’t think you’ll make it that far without turning into an icicle,” 

“Well, I don’t really wanna go back inside…” he knows why, so he offers something else. 

“My dorm is five minutes away. We could go there if you want, b-but if you’d rather go somewhere else—”

“Okay,” you nod eagerly, “let’s go.” 

As Jisung leads the way, speed-walking to beat the chill that spreads through his newly uncovered limbs, he turns his face to you, watching as you tuck the lower half of your face into his coat. 

“I don’t know if you want to work on the project or—” 

“God no,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “I’m not that much of a buzzkill, dude.” You jog a little to catch up to his longer strides, “Besides, I have like three shots of Pink Whitney in me,” 

“Foul.” 

“I know. Can’t think about a project right now,” 

“I’ve had a bit to drink, too.” he admits.

“I can tell. You’re stumbling.” 

He snaps his head around, down to his feet, then back to you. “What? Am I?” 

There’s a small, stupid smile on your face as you shake your head. “No.”

He can’t pinpoint why this banter with you is so easy, why it feels so right. Or perhaps, he can, but regardless, his heart leaps in his chest as he scoffs, not fighting the shit-eating grin that spreads on his frosted cheeks. 

"It’s that building right over there,” he points.

“You weren’t kidding when you said it was close,”

The two of you climb the stairs and he opens the main door for you, watching you sigh out in bliss as you step into the warmth of the hall. You bounce around in a cute way that once more tugs at his heart-strings, still looking all puffed up and adorable in his jacket that entirely engulfs your frame. He leads you up another flight of stairs and onto the floor his room is at, and once the two of you stop in front of his door, he pats his jean pockets. 

“Oh my uh- my keys are in the pocket of the jacket.” 

You mimic his recent action, patting around until you find his keys, holding them out for him to take. 

Somewhat awkwardly, he fumbles with them until he manages to fit it into the lock, opening the door with one hand. He gestures for you to enter his room with a small shrug, “Make yourself at home.” 

As you step inside, Jisung makes it a point to quietly thank whatever higher power compelled him to make his bed this afternoon. The rest of his room wasn’t perfectly organized by any means, but at the very least, his bed, which you now sat at the foot of with your legs bouncing, was neatly made. 

“You have your own room?” You mutter in surprise as you look around the small space and notice the lack of a second bed. The tall boy beside you just shrugs again, toeing off his shoes in the corner as he pulls the door closed. 

“Yeah, uh… I’m one of the RAs for the sophomore class.” 

“Wow,” you sigh, “I wish! I mean, I love sharing a room with Karina, but it’s nice to have space for myself sometimes.” 

“That’s why you’re always at the library?” 

You nod, sliding your palms across his duvet, “It’s nice and quiet,” your fingers move to grip and release the material, and he blinks harshly to erase the sight of that from his mind before it causes him to spiral. It didn’t prove to be very useful, though, because your still-exposed thighs move and press together, just as they did at the library, and his dick gives a little twitch in response.

“I’ll get you some clothes to change into, that way you’re more comfortable.” he decides, more for his sake than yours. You don’t answer, continuing to look around, taking in the details of his computer that flashes in a bunch of different colors. 

“You know I gave up extra storage in my bedside table to be able to keep my PC? I let Karina take it to her side of the room so I’d have space for my setup.” 

Rummaging through his drawers, he pipes up, “you game?” as if it wasn’t something he already knew about you. 

“I love it. I stayed here for most of the summer just because I had my computer here.”  

Jisung picks out a pair of sweats for you and one for himself, along with a t-shirt he knows he recently washed, then he turns, handing it over to you. “I’ll change in the bathroom down the hall and then wait outside. You can crack the door open when you’re done,” 

“Thank you, Jisung.” 

There’s a gentle sincerity in your tone that makes him wanna say “anything for you,” but he settles for pursing his lips instead, leaving to let you change before he can embarrass himself with any baseless comment you wouldn’t really get. The effect of the drinks still hadn’t completely faded, and he fears he’s capable of saying just about any of his stupid thoughts out loud right about now. 

You weren’t completely sober either, not by any means. The trashy vodka your ex offered you in an attempt to reconcile was as bitter as the end of your relationship with him, and it was flowing through your veins and giving you that light-headed buzz. You stand up and slip off your boots and Jisung’s jacket, along with your skirt. Your top requires a bit more precision, the lace getting twisted and tangled in your uncoordinated fingers. There’s little huffs and puffs of frustration that leave your lips during your struggle, and you’d almost consider asking for help if it wasn’t completely inappropriate. 

Finally, though, you manage to get it off and slip on the change of clothes Jisung has so graciously provided. They’re warm and they smell good, and they’re much more comfortable than your outfit which is now folded on Jisung’s gaming chair, alongside your purse. 

When you look up in admiration of his impressive keyboard, which looks to be custom made, and your eyes trail up to his monitor, you notice something on the corner of the screen. The mindless doodle you had drawn beside your phone number that day in class had been very carefully cut out and stuck onto his screen with tape. 

“You okay?”

His voice calls from outside, quietly as if not to disturb you even though it’s you who is occupying his room. 

“Yeah, I’m almost done!”

“I thought that she was gonna assign them on Friday?”

Sung had asked you that on call, in regards to the constellation project you mentioned you wanted to start working on. Not Jisung, Sung. Sung, who is not in your astronomy class and would have had no way of knowing when or even what your professor would be assigning. 

“You’re Ji-sun, right?” 

“—Sung.”

The nickname sounded very right coming from his lips, from his voice. You never gave his nickname too much thought, because truly, Sung could just be a display name. And if it is his real name, it could stand for anything: Sungmin, Sungwoo, Daesung, Ilsung, Jaesung… Jisung. 

And then, you recall the time you spoke on the phone—specifically, the time you had to do a double take at your screen to make sure you hadn’t actually called Sung. It was the first time you had spoken to Jisung on the phone, and it’s the only way you had even spoken to Sung… something about it seemed so, so strangely familiar. 

Could it be… 

“Alright, I’m done!” Your announcement comes after the realization that he’s been waiting outside for a few minutes already. 

“Coming in…” He warns, eyes still cast to the ground in case you weren’t decent. They slowly make their way up, and something flashes across his features at the sight of you. You try to ignore it, still preoccupied by your growing suspicions. His computer is on… meaning…

“Let me let Karina know I left… I kinda just walked out on her.” 

Jisung nods and takes a cautious seat on his bed a few feet away from you. 

As you open the discord app on your phone, you scroll to the top to find his contact and type out a simple Hi, clicking send with your heart beating faster than usual. It’s an impulsive act, but you can’t help yourself. If there’s even a chance… 

Instantly, his screen lights up and through his headphones you hear the familiar chime of the notification coming in. 

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!” 

If it’s possible, Jisung’s face grows even paler than it already was naturally, and even more gloom than it appeared earlier in the night when he identified you as Jaehyun’s ex. All of his features are alert and in shock, watching as you spin around to face him. 

“Sung? Right? That’s you?” 

He’s struggling to read your expression, and it’s beyond obvious. The only change in his demeanor is the now tensed up shoulders and the redness that takes over the white on his cheeks. 

“I—” Are you mad? Should he apologize?

“Did you know all this time? That it was me, I mean?” 

He nods slowly, unable to find the appropriate words to say. 

Two things happen just then. First, your hand smacks his arm, hard. “You fucking idiot!” and Second, you topple into his arms, hugging him. Initially, his hands hesitate to wrap around you, hovering above your waist as you squeeze his neck. 

“You’re not mad?” He asks shyly. You shake your head against him, then lift off with your hands on his shoulders to take a real good look at his face. 

“No! I’m so glad, I thought I was going crazy. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

He shrugs again, a gesture he seems to do a lot around you. 

“Since when did you know it was me?” 

“Since I heard you speak on the very first day in class. I recognized your voice.” 

Your eyes soften at this small confession, and you look back towards his desk, “So, this is where you were this whole time while we played? This close? A twenty-minute walk away?” You shoot up from the bed and cross the small distance to the desk, swiping an index finger along the surface, then his mouse, then his keyboard, and all of his other equipment. Your eyes are beaming, looking around and familiarizing yourself with his things. All the things you wondered about him are now laid out in front of you, and it’s exhilarating. 

“I was so excited when I found out,” 

“You should’ve told me,” you repeat, still taking in his pictures and personal items, your profound curiosity surfacing within you. 

“I was worried about making a good first impression, you’re…” 

“I’m…?” you press, turning to him for a moment. 

“You’re really pretty in person.” 

In that moment when you turn away to hide your blush, with the words “you’re really cute in person, too” ready to spill from your tongue in a sweet and shy whisper, a small black pile on the corner of his dresser catches your eye. 

“What’s that—” 

“Oh nothing! It’s just—” 

“Is that my cardigan?” 

Forget distraught, forget embarrassed, forget every possible synonym for the word humiliation. Not a single one would do what he’s feeling in this moment even a sliver of justice. Jisung is convinced his soul has left his body, that he’s passed on or that the ground has swallowed him whole. In fact, he’d prefer it that way. He has never felt more panic in his life as you quickly approach the cum-stained cardigan that he took from you, that he pleasured himself with countless times, that he still hasn’t washed…

“You dropped it in class, and I-I meant to give it back to you, you know, a-after I washed it, but then—” 

As you turn the material over in your hands, taking note of and examining the stains, Jisungs breath completely cuts off. You spin slowly on your heel, facing him. There’s an unreadable expression on your face, and it takes every bit of the little pride he has left to not squeeze his eyes shut. 

“Are these—” His voice is no more than a sputtering squeak, “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. Fuck, you must think—” 

“Jisung.” 

“I didn’t mean to keep it for so long, or-or at all, really, it’s just—”

“Jisung.” He’s pretty sure you can hear him gulp. “Were you using my cardigan to get off?” 

“I-” 

“Were you?” You ask sternly. 

He sucks in a breath, unable to look at you any longer as the faintest of yeses leaves his pouty lips. 

There’s a moment of silence. A terribly long, excruciating moment of silence where Jisung can think of no way to make this up to you. He’s beyond ashamed, palms clasped together and sweating, face red with horror, inside of his cheek clamped tightly between his teeth, the whole nine miles. So much for mulling over how he’d reveal who he was to you, and so much for all the overthinking he did, all the times he planned out exactly what to say to you and how. Now, it’s all coming to an end because of this damned cardigan. He should’ve just washed it and given it back to you after the first time—no, he shouldn’t have used it at all. His mind is filled with thoughts of everything and nothing at the same time, and he’s already beginning to mourn the loss of your friendship when you say the unthinkable: 

“Show me.”

*. * ·

taglist: @heartlvrrss @albedoloser @zp00ks @simpforarmihn @toroufriteh @quokkatss @jising-jisang-jisung @camstqr @tangerinehyuck @ma-riiii @minlvrpage @hancafe

there are some users that couldn't be tagged, as tumblr did not recognize their accounts. sorry :((

[plasticferal]

hey queen! can you pls do an angst story with chris. where they get into an argument and chris said things he never meant. then he apologizes to her afterwards. ( basically angst to fluff)

damsel in distress | chris sturniolo.

i added my own twist to this ask. it's my favourite prompt so thank you! 18+ protective!ex-boyfriend chris x fem!reader. fighting, touches on themes of unwanted attention, mentions of alcohol, explicit language. reader discretion is advised. p.s inspired by the unreleased olivia rodrigo song 'prison for life'.

the house is filled with familiar faces and strangers. a small gathering turned into a full blown house party from the moment the word got out. where the sturniolo triplets are, a flock follows. you sigh, pushing and shoving your way through the unwanted crowd.

all you want is to make it into the kitchen, miraculously being the only place no one wants to linger. the last person you need to see right now is your ex lover. chris is standing ahead of you, leaning on the kitchen counter, alone in the room. you shut the doors behind you, needing to escape. even if it means with him.

“if you wanted to get me alone, you could have just asked." he speaks smug, before taking a sip from his red solo cup.

“i'm not in the mood,” you dismiss. you open the fridge, eyes scanning the shelves but nothing calling your name.

you know you're not actually looking for anything, you just don't want to look at him. the entire night has you shaking with anger. from the mess in your home, the lack of care everyone is taking, the noise complaint you know you'll be getting later, and worst of all, that one guy who won't leave you alone.

you've never seen him before tonight, you don't even know his name, but all he's done is make you uncomfortable. try to dance with you, try to give you drinks. he brushes your waist every time he walks past.

all of your friends have been encouraging you to go for it, to get over chris. and honestly, you consider it for a moment. just to finally move on, but you can't bring yourself to. at least not with some random creep.

the break up is still raw. he tells everyone it was 'mutual' but it was a part on your request. he'd never throw you under the bus like that. he knows why you made your decision, he's never questioned it.

chris feels like it's unrequited love. although, you haven't lost any love for him, no matter how much you try to push him away. he has every right to despise you, but he doesn't.

every time you close a chapter with him, you find yourself in a sequel. it's like you're re-reading different stories, but the ending stays the same. your heart wants him, your brain wants to hate him.

"what's wrong?" he asks, sensing you're genuine in your frustration.

"nothing." you refuse to let him know what's happing in your world, let alone your mind. you don't need to let in him anymore, even though you want to let it out. he's the one person who could just sit and listen to you for hours on end.

"alright, just askin" his words trail off into a hush. he switches the tone, not wanting the conversation to stop.

“your friends are nice” he speaks in a sickeningly sweet tone, because if anyone knows how to kick you while you're down, it's him.

"you would think that" you scoff, implying that you've seen them throw themselves at him all night. him pouring them drinks, smiling and frothing over the attention he's receiving.

"the fuck is that supposed to mean?" his temperamental side seeps out, and you grow only more irritated.

"chris, can you get out please?" you huff, hands crossing over your chest. an unintentional way to seperate yourself from him, a metaphorical wall being put up.

"such a party pooper. you really gotta let loose, relax a bit." his words come out a lot more nasty that you hope he meant them, and it makes your face hot.

you give him the benefit of the doubt and think he's speaking with resilience, at the fact you keep shutting him down.

"i wonder why we ever broke up." you reply sarcastically, a fake smile on your face. he rolls his eyes, finishing off his drink and letting out an audible "ah," like a child finishing a juice box.

"i haven't seen you all night, y/n" his voice softens, and it becomes clear he's speaking for the sake of talking to you. he always wants to talk to you.

looking at the counter quickly to place his cup down, he looks back at you, tilting his head to the side slightly. he's not being horrible to you, he never has been. he's still in your life whether you like it or not, despite your hostility.

"sorry. i'm just tired." you lie. he knows it.

"your poker face isn't very good. i learnt that the hard way," he bounces his eyebrows, biting the tip of his tongue, eyes a bit wider as he stares at the ground and you can tell he's having a flashback.

you chuckle at the reference. the one time he caught you faking an orgasm didn't end very well, and he's been able to catch you out ever since. he's never been afraid to pull you up on your own fibs.

"sorry, again." you hug your body tighter, avoiding his eyes. he pushes himself off the counter with a stretch like hum and walks over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

"stop apologizing, you sound like matt," he rolls his eyes lightheartedly, and you let out a small laugh. that's always his intention, to make you smile.

"c'mon princess, let's get you a drink. seems like you need it." he nods toward to the door, rubbing your shoulder enthusiastically.

you let him try to fix your mood, because god knows you do actually need to stop stressing. you can't control what happens, just how you react. that's what chris always used to say when you were together.

feeling safe in his embrace, he security guard style moves you through the party. he hollers "excuse me!" and "coming through!" and everyone just listens, parting like the red sea. he's not the biggest guy in the room, but he sure is the most assertive. especially with you under his arm.

when you finally get to the drinks table, he makes you a vodka lemonade, saving the rest of the can for himself to finish off. it's not the most thrilling drink, but enough to keep you settled. ease the tension a bit. plus, it tastes good. no harm, no foul. as chris is mixing the liquids into cups, you feel an unwanted hand snake up around your hip.

"there you are. are you hiding from me?" your stomach drops at the voice of the mystery man towering over you, and you look ahead to watch chris's eyes snap up instantly.

chris lowers the cups, holding his eyes on the man behind you. you watch as he kinks his neck and his jaw tenses, taking a step closer. you shake your head at chris, holding a hand up subtly to tell him not to come any closer.

turning around, you stare up at the man. his breath reeks of liquor, and his shirt is drenched is sweat. it makes you sour your face and tense your entire body.

"i don't know what you want from me, but it's not gonna happen. i think you should leave." you speak sternly, trying not to let your voice shake with pure nerves. not even liquid confidence could help you right now.

"the party's just getting started," the man smiles, stumbling toward you in what you think is an attempt at a hug, but you begin pushing his body away from yours with a shove.

"dude, she doesn't want you. walk away." you hear chris's direct voice over your shoulder.

the last thing you want is negative attention on chris in a room full of people who would spread the news like wildfire. you never want that for him.

"it's okay, i got this." you dismiss chris in the nicest possible way, but you're being serious.

"come on, we'll have fun," the man hiccups through his words, mumbling them and tripping over toward you again.

"get the fuck away from her." chris's breath hits the back of your neck as he moves even closer to you.

"christopher, i'm serious. stop." you speak through grit teeth, so people can't read your lips, as he lingers next to you.

you try to be as inconspicuous as you can in your rejection to his advances, but he won't give up. the man appears more annoyed, and he grabs your wrist with a tight grip.

"let go of me." you grab the mans hand, trying to pry his grip without making it obvious.

you’re shaking at the thought of attention drawing. not for you, but for chris. eyes are already on you, being his ex. it's not what he ever wanted for you either. if he could make it all disappear, he would. it becomes more difficult when chris notices, and this time, has no intention of backing down.

"i'm not gonna repeat myself, back the fuck up." chris walks around your body, face to face with the guy who has a hold on you now.

"please, chris." you beg, voice quivering.

you know his temper can change in the blink of an eye. him and matt both have that in common.

"she doesn't need your help, pretty boy." the man splatters his words, a malicious smile on his face as he leans toward chris, almost nose to nose.

chris smiles criminally, flashing his teeth.

"you're right," chris puts his hands up in defence, a downward smile on his face as he chuckles darkly, taking a big step backward.

there's a feeling of relief, and intense fear as he actually does start to back away. but you know chris. unfortunately, it's unavoidable.

you try to catch his eyes, and speak through a begging stare without using words. he looks at you with sadness, and you mime the words, 'please don't'.

the moment the man tugs your wrist as if to leave with him, making you wince with the grip he holds. you regret your counteraction instantly, because chris reacts viscerally.

he flares his nostrils and squeezes his nails into his palm, balling up his hands by his hip. his knuckles are turning white.

before you can get pulled away, chris lunges forward with a tight fist, throwing a strong, perfectly aligned punch to the mans cheekbone. it throws the man to the ground in the blink of an eye, relieving the pressure on your skin. you stumble backwards, out of the line of fire.

chris steps heavily forward, shoving a foot into his ribcage before straddling his legs, completely overpowering him. the man projects forward to swing and hit chris's mouth. chris doesn't even flinch, like it was painless. you watch chris raise his arm up again to pummel down onto the now defenceless stranger.

the surrounding crowd gasps and yells, clearing the space that chris has created with his actions. iphone cameras flash, making you feel sick. the whispering and gossip you can already hear pounding in your head is overwhelming.

you feel so futile. chris is too in his own world to even realise the repercussions. you're not saying the guy didn't deserve it, you have no care in the world for him. you care about the aftermath.

in a fantasy world, a daydream, a fairytale even, this is attractive. a knight in shining armour, fighting for his lady. a world where there are no consequences, or social media, or fear. a reality chris has suddenly forgotten about.

he looks natural doing it, too. the veins in his arms so prominent, his tight mouth and huffed breaths as he gives it everything he's got.

you're frozen in shock, watching chris pelt another punch into the man, and you want to pull him off, you know you need to, but all your body can do is watch. watch the two men roughhousing and exchanging blows, chris taking every hit with pride.

you're numb to the feeling, screaming in your head.

appearing out of thin air, nick and matt are in your line of vision, hiding the chaos ahead of you. his brothers move into action before anyone else needs to.

they've obviously been summoned, but there's a part of you that believes they could just sense it. like they telepathically knew chris was getting himself into trouble by the lack of surprise they express.

nick grabs chris by the collar of his shirt, pulling him off. matt grabs his wrists, to stop him from using his fists. the fight comes undone, finally, but chris is disoriented. he spits onto the man as he's being escorted into the kitchen by his brothers.

your eyes burn with tears that refuse to fall, and matt sweeps your hand up, guiding you with them in a hurried manner. matt is trying to snap you back to reality, but it's just white noise.

chris hits his palm aggressively with frustration against the door frame of the kitchen as you all walk through, and you take a deep breath to compose yourself. your eyes are still welling as you choke back a sniffle, and you're not sure if it's shock, hurt, or anger anymore.

you're in a trance as you walk over to the freezer. your body is in autopilot, moving without you even knowing. you grab a frozen bag of vegetables out of the tray.

"so fucking stupid," you say nastily under your breath, slamming the door shut.

walking over to chris who's sat up on the ledge of the sink. you throw the packet at his chest, and he grabs it, questioning you for a second before matt walks over and shows him to place it on his bruised and red raw knuckles.

the room is filled with tension.

matt is biting his nails, you're leaning against the closed door, and nick finds himself squatting on the floor.

"what the actual fuck was that?" nick is too stunned to even yell, he just speaks aloud.

"i asked you not to, chris. i could have handled it myself." you shake your head, vision blurry as you stare vacantly ahead. you want to lash out at him, but for some reason you can't.

"yeah, it really looked like you had it under control." he crushes the frozen packet harshly against his hand.

"we'll leave you two alone." matt cuts through awkwardly, shooting nick a warning glare.

matt knows it's not his place to go off at chris right now. he'll do that later.

"but-" nick begins, and matt snaps toward the door. you hear nick sigh, knowing he would love nothing more than to stay and listen to you tear into chris. alas, they both leave promptly, matt flashing you a sympathetic smile on the way out.

you can hear from the other side of the door, both nick and matt are hustling trying to kick everyone out. it’s a weight lifted off your shoulders. the literal mess being left behind is the least of your worries now.

you're alone with chris in the kitchen again, the second time not being anymore pleasant than the first. you blame yourself fully for dropping your guard, even if for a second.

“i begged you not to, chris.” you repeat with a stern tone, laced with betrayal and genuine hurt.

he’s silent for a moment, staring at you from across the room with no emotion on his face. you know he feels terrible, he doesn’t have to show it. or tell you.

“did you think i was just gonna stand and watch?” he rebuttals.

“i would have preferred that, honestly.” you don’t understand how he can’t grasp the intensity of the situation.

"did you want him? go back out there then." he's bitter, pointing at the door. you roll your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief.

"chris," you start. he keeps talking.

“because i’m sure he’s still laying on the floor. go ahead. he might have a hard time talking now, though.” chris shrugs, speaking in a provoking manner.

“you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t press charges." you apprise.

“he should feel lucky i didn’t do worse.” he takes another step toward you, presumptuous in the way he carries himself.

"you've done a lot of stupid shit, chris. but that," you raise your hand as you speak, laughing in shock.

"that was unbelievable." you pinch the bridge of your nose, taking yet another deep breath.

"you know what's unbelievable is how you haven't even thanked me once" he ignores your words and bites back with irritation, face growing more twisted with upset.

"thank you?" you repeat, jaw dropping. you step toward him this time. you feel dejected trying to get him to understand.

"thank you for what? for causing a scene? for putting yourself in danger?" you step forward again, feeling like you could drive your heels into the ground beneath you.

"you're acting insane" he brings his hands to his head, tugging at his own hair with despair. his words sting, despite the back and forth arguing.

"you're the one that lashed out on that guy with no consideration for anyone else around you. that's insane" you speak with physical gestures unconsciously.

you're trying to reason with him, but with the state he's in, it's like trying to put a brain in a statue. you examine him, trying to search for his eyes but his body won't keep still, twisting and moving around.

"fuck, okay, i get it! i get it, y/n. you're not happy with me. you never fucking are apparently," his words trail off and he waves you away, turning his back to you. he sounds desperate for it to end.

you want to scream at him at the top of your lungs, and quite frankly, you could. your face burns and steam is about to shoot out of your ears.

"you don't need to protect me anymore, chris."

"i saved your ass out there." he speaks with his hand, four fingers direct to your chest. his words are like salt being rubbed into an open wound.

"saved me? that's a fucking stretch. your brothers saved your ass, because you don't think before you fucking act!"

"this is about YOU, y/n! what i did for you!" he slaps the back of right hand into the palm of his left.

"i'm not some damsel in distress that you need to sweep up and put in a tower, chris"

"yeah well at least in a tower you can't attract trouble." he speaks as if it's your fault, and of all the things he's just spit out, that's by far the worst. the most menacing and cut to the bone tone he's used.

"that was low, even for you." you huff, emotions at an all time high.

your breathing feels tight, but instead of reacting, you force yourself to seperate your emotions from the reality of the situation. you're both feeling very intensely, and expressing it the same way.

in hindsight, you could have redirected some of your emotions, but you also wish chris would take back some things he's said. there's no excuses.

chris re-collects himself and turns toward you again. he shrugs his shoulders, like he has nothing left to say. no fight left.

the closer chris is standing the more prominent his face is, and more specifically, his busted open lip.

you gasp in a mix of being upset, and shock. it feels like a piece of your heart is breaking off, seeing his delicate, pale skin so sore.

"your lip, chris." you exhale, stepping toward him.

he flinches when your hand raises to touch his face, and you know now that you've acknowledged it, it's hurting him. neither of you paid any attention to it amongst the turmoil.

"come here." you sigh, pulling his arm, bringing him over to where the paper towels are, in the corner of the sink.

tearing a white square into your hands, you rinse it under cold water lightly before squeezing the saturation out, leaving a damp cloth in your hand.

turning into chris's body, he looks down at you. he's still at last, and looks like he has no thoughts behind his now seemingly innocent eyes.

you cup his cheek gently, to turn his face downward. you bring the towel up to his lip, wiping his stained chin and mouth. he lets you, and doesn't even wince. he visibly gives into your touch. he's content.

"i need you to promise me you'll never do something like that again." you pull back, folding over a clean side and then wiping his lip softly, trying not to cause him pain.

"i can't promise that." he speaks in a whisper, as if he doesn't want you to hear his word.

with his lip no longer being red, you toss the damp and crumbling paper into sink, making it a problem for another time.

"why?" you look into his eyes, wiping your hands on your shirt.

his blue eyes are big but blameless, pupils dilated. holding his stare as your arm lowers.

"because if anyone lays a hand on you again, i'm going to prison for life." the piece of your heart that broke off earlier reattaches at his words alone.

chris's much shorter hair is spikey around his ears, and wet at the ends, turning dark brown from his sweat. you caress his messy curls, tucking it over the curves of his ears and taming the wispy strands. you hold his head in your hands, tiling him up and your mouths are inches apart.

"how hard did he hit your head?" you ask against his lips. he chuckles, genuinely.

he's an idiot, undeniably. but the gut wrenching, lawless love he has for you makes him that way. his low, smooth laughter, makes your heart skip a beat.

"i mean it, y/n."

"but i know, i know it was stupid." he admits.

"yeah, it was." you agree, shaking his head around slightly.

he grabs your hands with his own, engulfing them and holding them in his palms. he squeezes your hands, bringing them to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

"i'm sorry." he speaks on your skin.

"like really fucking sorry." he strains his head back with remorse, making his adam's apple more prominent, and he swallows hard. like he's swallowing his guilt.

"i said some nasty things. i wish i could take them back, y/n. i really do."

"i know, chris."

"no, you don't. i'll apologise to you everyday for the rest of my life if i have to. i've been horrible tonight."

"chris, enough," you hush him, the calmness in your tone making him understand you hear him. loud and clear. you need some time to forgive, but you absorb his words.

"i don't know how you didn't smack me in the mouth." he jokes, and you giggle through your breath.

"there's still time," you joke back. and he knows it by your tone.

"i could never bring myself to do that. as much as you deserve it." your banter eases the pressure, and you feel chris squeeze your hands in his again.

you rub your thumbs over his knuckles, looking at the little purple marks forming. he notices your face drop with stress, and he slips his hands away, moving to your hips instead.

"hey, i'm fine. i don't care what happens to me, i just need you to be okay."

"i am okay," you reply. he drops his face with a look that expresses he doesn’t believe you. you give a light eyeroll, and small smile.

"i mean it, i swear.” you raise your pinkie finger to him, to keep your promise. knowing it’s the only way he’ll actually believe you.

chris smiles, weak with his bruised lip, and wraps up your pinkie with his own, wriggling your hands around.

"i'm always gonna want to protect you." he pulls you toward his body. he's so warm, and radiates a magnetic energy that makes you want to collapse into his arms.

you know you don't need him to, but deep down, you would like his protection. his unconditional love. selflessness.

"i'll be sure to send you love letters in jail" you grin up at him, and laughs from the chest.

his voice is like a scratched record, fatigue taking over his body. you swallow hard, all of your senses coming back. he feels so real standing in front of you all of a sudden, like it's not just a dream you're about to wake up from.

"stay the night." you speak mindlessly.

chris brushes your hair from your face, cupping the back of your neck lightly to pull your forehead to his lips, kissing just above your eyebrows gently. he rests his chin on the crown of your head, pulling you tight to his chest in an embrace.

"i'll stay forever if you ask me to."

this is the feeling he fights for. requited love.