a1yx111

[a1yx111]

shut up my heart fluttered im going crazy

twelve grapes | l. at

bestfriend!anton x reader | 4.5k words

this put me in an anton mood unfortunately

contains: best friends to lovers, new years eve traditions, missionary, love confessions

“it’s me.” you said to the door.

you didn’t even have to knock before the door was opened. you were greeted with a smiling anton. you smiled back, looking down at the ground for a moment.

“come in.” anton whispered, opening his door wider for you.

you walk in but anton left the door open. you saw that on his bed there was a child sleeping. it was usually like this at your joint family parties. one room would become the unofficial coatcheck and the other would be the designated room for sleeping babies. anton’s room was always the place of choice for babies to lay their heads down. he had a way with kids, they gravitated towards him and they always took a liking to his soft voice. his height was an advantage too, kids enjoyed climbing him and being on his shoulders as he walked through the house.

“one second. i’m gonna put him in the room down the hall.” anton said and he lumbered onto the bed.

you stayed in his room while anton carefully scooped the sleeping child into his arms to take them into a separate room. when he returned he closed the door behind him. you two stayed there for a moment, just looking at one another. 

everyone in your life started to notice the looks. they’d bump your shoulders while mentioning the stutter anton would have or how light and airy your voice would get. you weren’t sure if these statements had any validity. there were always comments about you and anton’s relationship. you two were kids, growing up together because your parents were close friends. you remember as a child anton’s parents jokingly saying you two have to get married so your two families would finally be related. you made a sour face and so did anton. at your age, boys were yucky and to anton, so were girls. you both decided you didn’t like each other like that when you kissed on the playground underneath the jungle gym. it was a quick peck, you both pulling away and shaking your heads. you two were still close, becoming your own people up side by side. you both went through so much change growing up but being by the others side remained the same.

lately though, there was something in the air. maybe it was the holidays and your weariness that came with the cold weather. but the way anton would look at you recently made you bashful, always compelled to look away or brush hair behind your ear. anton turned into a charming and handsome young man right in front of your eyes. he still kept the same soft voice and kindness you had as children, something you admired. you wanted to ignore the feelings but the way he would compliment you started making you sheepish. when something looked particularly good on him you would feel hot in the face, embarrassed for no reason. you found yourself sometimes thinking back to that kiss on the playground. when you were kids you guys simply just went back to playing, never bringing it up again. if that happened now, you believe that your body would burst into flames.

seeing both your families look at you knowingly validated your feelings, but regardless it was prying. you also didn’t want the comments to get to your head or ruin what you and anton had. it was special having someone in your life understand you the way anton did. you didn’t want to lose it, which is why you were happy you and anton were away from your two families as the party went on downstairs.

without prying eyes and knowing glances, it was very comfortable. conversation with anton had always flowed easily, both of you having similar senses of humor. occasionally during a joke you would hit his solid arm lightly, or he would put his hand on your thigh. it would linger there for a second before he would pull it away. feelings you had to beat to death with a stick stirred over your skin, but you were able to continue the conversations. before you knew it you guys talked half the night away.

sometime during the night, your family went home. something about an early morning the next day. you were able to convince them to let you stay under the guise of watching the ball drop, but what you really wanted was to be with anton. 

his parents were funny about the new year. every time they would rave about staying awake to watch the ball drop, being able to ease into the new year. what actually always ended up happening was that they would be knocked out on the couch watching the new years eve show. every year, anton would take a picture of his parents sleeping into the new year.

you and anton also almost missed the new year until he checked his phone.

“wow. time is flying.” anton said. 

you looked at the time. it was ten minutes until the new year.

“did you bring the grapes?” anton asks.

you smile at the mention of your silly little tradition. even though you and anton have never been to spain, every year you found yourselves crowded underneath a table on new years eating twelve grapes. it was believed to bring you good luck and good fortune, but you were never the type to believe in that type of stuff. each year though, you had anton by your side. you think that’s good fortune on its own. so you humored him each year—you supplied the grapes and he supplied the table.

“i left them downstairs in the fridge.” you said.

anton stood up his seat on the floor and you stood up from his bed. he went towards his bedroom door and you followed.

“let’s go get them. but be quiet so we don’t wake up my parents.” anton said, putting a finger to his lips.

the new years eve television special was blaring on the speakers, so loud you could’ve ran down the stairs at full speed and it wouldn’t down out the sound of the announcers on the screen. but you and anton loved tradition, so you snuck down the stairs the same way you did as children. anton leaned against his wall comically as he snuck down and you did the same.

you held hands often as children. it was always for reason, like if the other wasn’t moving fast enough or if you were scared. so when anton grabbed your hand for no reason as you snuck downstairs you thought you would stumble down the steps. but you let your hand rest inside of anton’s as you mirrored his footsteps so the stairs wouldn’t creak.

you guys successfully retrieved the grapes and two bowls, sneaking your way back upstairs. you didn’t let go of eachother’s hands once, not until anton led you underneath a table in his room. you both struggled to fit underneath the table, laughing at anton’s attempt to make his large body compact.

“i can’t believe we’ve been doing this since we were kids.” you say wistfully.

you open up the container of grapes in between the two of you. anton takes the time to inspect each grape before dropping it into your bowl, making sure it’s one of the firm and sweet ones. anton has always done this each year, while he just grabbed the first twelve for himself, not caring what they looked like.

“so much has changed since then, hasn’t it?” anton said lightly.

“we’re still the same.” you hum, nodding your head. 

it was hard to try and seem nonchalant sitting so close next to anton. even while he was sitting underneath the table he was taller than you, his head brushing the top of the table. you were light in the head being able to smell anton, to look at him so close. have his eyelashes always been this wispy? his cheeks looked so soft you were compelled to close what little space was left between the two of you to feel his skin. but you focused on grabbing the crispy and sweet grapes with a shaky hand.

anton was happy that you were enveloped in tasting the grapes. if you were focused on other things, he would have time to calm down his heart that was beating like a bird. he couldn’t even reach for his own grapes, too scared his shaking hand would give away the confession that was on his lips. each time you looked at him he was suddenly nervous. anton was already the shy type and the way you had him only made everything worse.

you both could hear the counting on the television upstairs as you each ate a grape, saying each month of the new year between each one. anton was able to take a grape with you, having to move his hand to rest on his knee to hide the shaking. when you get to the final month, the ball drops. you can hear it downstairs and you look at anton’s digital clock above his bed to doublecheck. it’s officially another year that you have started with anton.

“happy new year.” you say, finishing the last grape.

“happy new year.” anton says back to you. 

his voice sounds far off like he’s thinking about something. his focus goes all over your face, lingering on your eyes before stopping completely looking at your lips. you scooted closer to him. you found yourself staring at his lips too. you cleared your throat to point at his bowl filled with grapes.

“anton you barely ate any of your—“

you were cut off mid sentence by anton closing the gap between your bodies. you could barely process what happened before anton gently pressed his lips to yours. your eyes fluttered shut. you could feel his soft lips, tasting sweet like fruit. as fast as he placed his lips on yours he pulled back from you. 

your eyes snapped wide open in shock trying to process what had just happened. you had a million things rushing through your mind, the overwhelming need to tell him about his plump lips rested on your lips. you were there, frozen like a statue watching the red creep across anton’s face.

“i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that. i just thought—there was this feeling i’ve had about you lately i thought it was mutual.” anton said.

the red creeped to his ears as he rambled to you. immediately you should’ve said something, quelling his worries of making a move. but you selfishly gave yourself a moment to bask in the feeling of mutual pining. you sunbathed in validation, all the fleeting looks and sudden touches made sense. you put your hand over anton’s. he stopped his rambling to look at you in the eyes.

“i like you too,” you say, smiling. “and we can talk about it later, but right now i really want you to kiss me again.”

anton goes back in to kiss you. this time he lets himself fully relax into you, and you pull him in by his sweater. he’s so close you can feel his hair resting on your forehead and his nose bumps yours every time you tilt your head to get a better angle. being with anton already doesn’t feel like the first time, finding a comfortable rhythm in the kisses. you think for a second that he knows you so well he’s completely tuned into your kisses, when you’ll tilt your head or when you need a breath of fresh air. you never want to break apart from him.

you listen to the sounds of your lips making contact fill the room. you’ve dreamed of this, having anton’s hand on your face so he can kiss you deeper. it’s not long before you let the kiss turn into something more desperate. you let your tongue come out and swipe across his lip. it’s a bold move on your end, one that anton responds to instantly. he prods his tongue into your mouth, tilting your head to feel the inside of your cheek. the kisses turn messy, you bring a hand to the nape of his neck to pull at his hair. 

anton’s other hand rests on your hip. he’s so close to your ass, you both know it. anton still has his reservations, how far you’ll let him go before he wakes up from this dream. but he is taking to paradise when you lean your body towards his, lifting your ass so he can rest his hand on there fully. he squeezes his hand into the pocket of your jeans and you moan feeling the pressure of his fingers against you.

anton was already a jumpy person. he blames it on his anxiety, always putting him in a fight or flight mode. but when you moan into the kiss he nearly leaps out of his skin. his head hits the bottom of the table with such force that the things on top of it shake. you look at him wide eyed asking if he’s okay, but anton is only focused on getting you to make that sound again. the way you look at him with large doe eyes and glossy lips has him thinking about all the time he wasted not kissing you. if anton had known how badly you wanted him he would’ve made a move a long time ago. but he doesn’t want to focus on the past. right now, you had a fully exposed neck and you two had all the time in the world.

you’re still worried about the possible brain damage anton might’ve faced when he brings his thumb to swipe across your lip.

“you’re lips are so soft.” anton whispers. “and they taste like grapes.”

before you can come close to anton again he’s leaning back into you. instead of your lips, he rests his face in the crook of your neck. he kisses the skin there repeatedly, getting sloppier and sloppier with each kiss. when he takes in your skin and sucks on it, you let out a gasp. anton uses his hand in your back pocket and his other one to guide your back to the floor. the change in position has excitement taking over. you never thought you would have anton hovering over you giving you a hickey on your skin. anton takes his hand out of your pocket and tucks his fingers underneath the waistline of your jeans. you take your hands underneath his sweater, feeling his bare body.

anton moves to the other side of your neck. you get the quickest glance at him before he retreats into the crook of your neck. his eyes are big and blown out and you lift your hips so your stomach touches his. anton’s hand supports your arch, using all of his strength to keep your bodies pressed against on another. he starts using teeth when sucking on your skin and you moan again.

“i love that sound so much.” anton says.

you moan again. hearing anton abandon his shyness so he could shamelessly flirt with you had you making sounds you didn’t know you could make. anton lets his hand hover over your shirt, resting on your chest. he moves your breast around in a circular motion. you need to be out of your clothes already, feeling anton inside of you. but patience is a virtue, so you let him feel you up like hormonal teenagers.

“so pretty. i’ve always wondered what you sounded like.” anton whispers against the skin of your neck. 

“does it sound good?” you ask.

“it’s better than what i ever could’ve imagined.”

he grips the fabric over your breast a little tighter and you arch into him. you can no longer take the teasing. you make quick work of the button and zipper on your jeans. you do the same to anton, using your hands to clumsily push his pants down. anton gets the hint, smiling before letting your back down gently. he moves beside you and you both careless take off your jeans. you stay in your underwear and anton keeps his boxers on. anton lets his eyes study your legs, how you bend them self consciously as anton looks at your panties. he’s rock hard in his pants and he needs you to know it.

anton takes your hand and places it over the growing bulge in his boxers. 

“you’re so hard.” you say.

“it’s because of you.” anton says.

his voice is still so soft as he speaks to you, sounding even more airy due to his arousal. now he’s the one gasping underneath your touch, his sweater is suddenly too hot for him. he takes it off as you wrap your hand against his shaft. you hold it firmly and anton almost bucks into your hand.

“do you have a condom?” you ask. 

you sit up, taking off your sweater too. you’re left in your bra and panties as anton springs up from underneath the table to go to his bedside table. if you two had any sense you’d move to the bed, but urgency is on the forefront of your minds. you need him right here, right now, and anton can’t wait another second.

anton grabs the tinfoil package and settles back onto the ground next to you. you both move to your side, taking the moment to bring in your nearly naked bodies. you are in that lacy bra looking like god sent you down here himself, and anton’s body has you speechless. you had seen it before growing up, but the intent now made all the difference. you bring a hand to trace from his navel to his chest then back down again. he takes your breasts in his hand, kneading your skin over the bra. he’s enthralled by the way you spill over the cup of the bra.

“i can’t believe it.” anton murmurs.

“me neither.” you say. 

you’re arching your back into his touch and you bring a hand behind you to undo the bra. instantly it loosens and anton helps you out of it. he can’t stop staring at your breats, the way your boobs sit pretty on your chest. anton reaches a hand towards them before pausing.

“can i?” he asks.

“please. i need you to touch me so bad.” you say.

your eyes are closed when anton finally touches you. he squeezes the flesh gently, before realizing you need it to be a little rougher. his actions are no longer timid when he moves to the other breast. he takes the nipple into his mouth and you let out the loudest gasp. this doesn’t stop anton, only eggs him on to suck a little harder. you tweak the nipple of the other breast with your hand, and anton only has to watch. you for a second before he’s doing the same thing. 

you help anton go back to his position on top of you. your leg ends up slotting between his and you can feel his dick poking your thigh. anton looks up at you from your chest and slowly grinds his length on your thigh. it’s thick and rests heavy on your leg. you can already feel a wet spot in his boxers where precum is seeping through. you’re sure your the same way, squirming in your panties that are becoming uncomfortable.

“anton.” you whine.

he perks up to look at you, he lets your breast fall from his mouth with a lewd pop. he wipes below his lip, where some of his spit came out.

“what’s wrong?” anton asks. he places a kiss on the nipple he didn’t suck.

“i can’t wait any longer.”

anton uses his hand to guide his dick to your entrance. you can feel the girth of its blunt head. you bring in a shaky breath. the suspense is making you antsy.

“tell me if it’s too much and i’ll pull out, okay?” anton says.

his fucked out expression is replaced with one of worry. you nod your head, moving your hands to rest on his shoulders. you try to relax, letting out the breath.

“i’m ready.”

“okay.” anton says.

he lets go of his guiding hand and brings it to yours. his grabs your hand, holding it the same way he did leading you down the stairs. anton places a kiss on your forehead and you try to kiss him back. you are too enchanted by feeling him sink into you. 

“so big.” you gasp.

“i know. can you take it?” anton asks. his voice is barely above a whisper, as he sinks further into you. 

anton means it as a genuine question, anxious that he may not fit all the way inside of you with no prep. it’s a question filled with worry, but the borderline mocking question mixed with his airy voice has you opening your legs a little wider. he’s teasing you without meaning to, and anton is a feels the way you react to his innocent question..

he is big, but your arousal makes it easier for you to take all of it. anton loses more and more of his composure the deeper he goes in. when your pelvises touch you clench around him. he lets out the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard and drops his head into the crook of your neck.

you can’t control the clenching. he presses gently against your insides, each time you clamp around him you swear you can feel every ridge and vein. it’s not long before you both are whimpering messes, feeling the euphoria of sex.

“can i move?” anton asks. 

he tries his hardest to keep his voice clear but it’s meek, weakened by ecstasy.

“yes, please.” you whimper.

anton listens, bringing himself out all the way slowly before sinking back in just as slow. being able to feel every inch of him again has you digging nails into his shoulder. anton loves the pain and he grips your hip to thrust a little harder. he kisses your forehead again and he’s captivated by the sight of your face contorting in pleasure and the way your chest jumps when he gives you harder and faster thrusts. he can’t control running off at the mouth.

“i’ve waited so long for this.” anton groans. 

“how long?” you say. 

your voice hitches in the middle of your sentence when anton hits you with a harder thrust. you both moan into eachothers mouths when he hits that spot deep inside of you.

“so long.” anton says. “you have no idea.”

he wants to tell you about the winter formal last year where that red dress complimented your skin perfectly. anton was swooning over you the whole night, having to make up excuses why he was so red in the face. he felt like someone from the middle ages, weakened by the sight of your bare shoulder. anton spent the whole night trying not to imagine taking your dress off of you, kissing all over your body.  when you danced with him he had to leave a gap between the two of you, afraid that if you got to close he’d faint. 

you had no idea about the nights anton would think about your lips, the way you talked to him and looked up to him when he was alone. his yearning had turning into something more, something he thought he’d never get.

but now here you were, naked on his floor with him on top of you. anton couldn’t believe you were here with him, clenching around his length uncontrollably while he moaned into your mouth. you leaned into his touch bending your leg to wrap around his waist. it was a alight change but the new angle had anton seeing stars.

“you feel so good.” anton said. 

it was almost like he couldn’t believe it. he was hitting you deeper and faster, his hand now leaving gripping the skin of your thigh to help support your leg.

“touch me anton.” you whimper. 

“where do you need me?” he asks.

you wordlessly grab his hand, leading it to your clit. anton gets what you need immediately, tenderly rubbing the bundle of nerves. you pull him in so close by his shoulders that his arm becomes wedged between your two bodies. anton remains constant with his motions, finding a rhythm that leaves you repeating his name breathlessly. anton increases his speed when you your words come out jumbled and in a hurry. anton understands your close, because he understands everything about you. he understands why you like the music you like, why you eat the food you eat, why you watch the movies you watch. he finds himself looking down between the two of you, your taut skin reacting to his every movement. 

“give me your hand baby.” anton says. 

his hand that was holding your thigh goes to yours. you clench it, nails digging into the back of his hand. anton goes back to s slower pace. he needs to see you come undone underneath you, he needs to draw out everything he hasn’t been able to get from you.

you don’t get the chance to tell anton you’re close. it comes slowly but it swallows your whole body. anton’s fluid thrusts prolong the feeling, and his hand on your clit intesifies everything. the knuckles on your hand turn white from the grip you have on anton. he doesn’t complain, he instead whimpers into you, smushing his cheek against yours as his thrusts start becoming staggered. your leg around his waist locks him in place as he gives you on final thrust. you feel anton throbbing in you and he gasps into the crook of your neck that he’s cumming. you continue to moan, driving both your bodies to keep going. 

there’s something to be said about the two of you cumming together without planning it. the word ‘soulmate’ and the phrase ‘i love you’ sits on both of your tongues as your chests heave from exertion. anton pulls out of you, tying the condom on his dick off before letting himself fall beside you. 

both of you two stare at the bottom of the table, trying to process what just happened. you still try catching your breath when you turn your head to see anton already looking at you. his face is flushed, red splotches across his skin and his hair is unbelievably mused. he smiles at you before leaning over and wiping away a tear you didn’t even know was there. after that brief look, both of your gazes go back to the bottom of the table.

you feel anton creep his hand into yours, slow and timid. out of the corner of your eye you see him still looking at the table, with a worried expression on his face. you grab his hand and squeeze it, letting him know you’re real and you’re right there with him. your relationship with anton will never be the same, and you like it that way.

thank yew for reading! here is my ko-fi if you wanted to support me further!

[a1yx111]

bike peg | p. wb

wonbin x fem. reader | 11.6k words

wonbin gets cheated on and gets his lick back…listened to prom by sza and erase by omar apollo while writing this!

contains: cheating, descriptions of a toxic relationship

visiting home wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, and wonbin knew it wasn’t. the constant demand to be his best in the city was slowly wearing him down, and the pace of life was completely different from how he grew up. wonbin found it ironic that he found himself needing an escape from the place he moved to the moment he graduated high school to escape his hometown. something about looking for more out of life under the guise of pursuing his passion. 

wonbin found out quickly that he had bit off more than he could chew, blinded by the naive cockiness like most people his age. he was constantly on the go, needing to constantly be moving so he wouldn’t get left behind.

wonbin felt like he hadn’t stopped running since he left home. he hit the pavement running the moment he moved to the city. he ran straight into a shitty job that barely paid him enough to make ends meet, causing him to run into a lease with a girl he didn’t know. she was mysterious and elusive, completely unlike anyone wonbin had met before. unlike wonbin she was born and raised in the city, with her foot already in the door towards her career. wonbin’s fascination with the way his roommate carried herself transformed into pining, and pining somehow turned into dating.

wonbin’s relationship with minju was rocky before it even started. he knew it was a bad idea to date his roommate, the first person he built a rapport with in the city. wonbin knew that. what wonbin didn’t know was that too many circles in the city overlapped, and nobodies exes stayed as their exes. wonbin didn’t know the the man that was “like a brother” to minju was actually something much more than a close friend. they were so convincing, and wonbin was too caught up in running to see what was going on right under his nose—but maybe he chose to ignore it. all wonbin knew was that minju started coming home late smelling different and her friend started acting awkward around him. 

wonbin was spread too thin and stress blinded him. he had gotten to the point that his feet throbbed at the end of his days, he even dreamed about running even in his sleep. he never knew where he was running to, only that his speed caused him to bump into faceless throngs of people, saying quick apologies as he made his way through the crowd. 

wonbin also found himself apologizing more than he ever had in his life. he apologized for speaking and for walking, he apologized for looking at the sky and doing too well at work. wonbin apologized in his dreams and attached shy sorry’s to almost every sentence. wonbin sorry is what minju called him. at first it was an endearing nickname, or atleast wonbin pretended it was. apologies became an innate part of wonbin. there was so much to feel sorry for—his plants that didn’t get watered, the rotting food in his fridge, his mom who had a son that didn’t call. apologizing was such a habit that wonbin even apologized when he caught his girlfriend cheating on him.

wonbin saw everything before they noticed him standing there. he saw minju and her friend on the couch they bought together in their shared apartment completely enveloped in eachother. wonbin stood there for a moment, letting the scene take place in front of him. the way his girlfriend was on top, eyes closed in bliss as she rode her bestfriend. the way her friend’s hands roamed all over her body. they didn’t look up or stop moving until the paper bags full of groceries shifted in wonbin’s hands. when they finally noticed him, their eyes went wide realizing they’ve been caught redhanded. wonbin was the first to speak.

“sorry.” wonbin said when minju yelled.

wonbin’s mother from the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder was the second to speak.

“binnie, what’s wrong?” his mother’s voice cracked through the speakers.

minju and juyeon or hyunjae—wonbin couldn’t place a name to the face—were the third to speak. they were completely in sync, mumbling and reaching for clothes at the same time. wonbin could see them looking for their clothes, some of them strewn throughout the apartment. minju looked down at wonbin’s feet as she grabbed a blanket to cover herself. when wonbin’s eyes looked down he saw her top lying next to her feet.

“i’ll call you back, mom.” wonbin said.

wonbin hung up on his mom mid sentence, looking back up to his naked friend. no one spoke, not until the man started hastily putting back on his clothes looked to wonbin and minju.

“i should go.” he said quickly.

his jeans were left unzipped and his shirt was on backwards as he walked past wonbin with his head hung low. wonbin almost wanted to leave with him. he was one more stressful situation away from his brain collapsing in on itself like a supernova. so he cleared his mind, closed his eyes and started pulling out the things needed to make dinner. wonbin faced his back towards minju, the situation out of his sight and mind while she started putting her own clothes back on. he opened the cabinet to grab a cutting board for his vegetables.

“i’m going to visit my mom.” wonbin decided outloud.

wonbin would never admit that he was relieved when his mother asked him to come visit. her voice was distant over the phone, almost a whisper when she expressed her wish to see her son again. wonbin’s mother loved the dramatics, evident in the how she constantly talked about how empty the house felt like since he left. wonbin didn’t bring up the fact that his dad and older sister were still very much alive and living at home.

wonbin’s mother nearly blew out his speakers when he told her he booked a bus back home. her shrill screams were the only sound in the apartment. the sound caused minju to look over at wonbin’s phone. he ignored the look, and she only lingered for a second before going back to her book to reread the same page. the situation with minju was even worse now, and wonbin hated that it felt like it was his fault. he had never learned about the dangers of living with your cheating girlfriend, or else he would’ve declined her offer to co-sign a lease. 

minju gave her excuse for cheating being neglect. wonbin was too busy to spend time with her, and always too tired to touch her at night. her ex was at her disposal at all times, and knew what she needed emotionally and physically. wonbin could only nod his head, having nothing else to add after minju spent an hour defending herself. she raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms when she was done, waiting for wonbin to say his favorite word.

“sorry.” wonbin apologized.

wonbin saw his girlfriend let out a sigh of relief, as if he had taken all the blame for the situation. when wonbin watched minju roll her eyes he felt anger and unbridled emotion bubble up in his chest. he wanted to yell to, he had the right to be angry. but as soon as the anger was about to boil over it subsided as wonbin thought about all the other stressful things in his life.

when minju was done telling wonbin her side of the story she looked to him expectantly. he thought about comforting her, telling her she wasn’t wrong for cheating.

“what now?” he asked simply.

minju bristled when he asked that question. she snapped her book shut and cleared the room, leaving wonbin alone on the couch. she told wonbin that he was running from his problems, straight to a place he knew she wouldn’t follow him to. the salty sea breeze and lack of stores open twenty-four hours warded her off. wonbin wanted to tell her he didn’t choose where he grew up, but instead he only said sorry.

wonbin was even more confused when minju gave him a hug and a kiss before he left for the bus station. she seemed remorseful now, eyes worried when she said she wanted to try working things out. wonbin couldn’t bring himself to say no to minju, even though he knew it was what she deserved. for some reason, he was still hung up on her. he still made her food they still watched their television shows at night together, rewatching the episode that played on the television when she was caught. the only difference was that they slept on opposite ends of the bed with their backs facing eachother. 

maybe wonbin’s absence would fix things. maybe being apart from minju would dull the pain in his chest he ignored for her sake.

he thought about minju the whole ride back home. he slept most of the ride, only waking up occasionally when his mind told him his stop was close. at some point during the ride wonbin received a text from minju telling him to travel safe. the heart emoji that ended her sentence unfortunately made wonbin feel like something could be salvageable if he apologized enough. 

instead of replying, wonbin only shifted the duffle bag on his shoulder and followed the mass of people leaving the station. he was tired and sore from sitting in the same position for hours, something he hadn’t done in a long time. when he left the station he took a breath of fresh air when he exited the bus station, and closed his eyes to adjust to the sun. here it shined bright like the sun was closer and the air was clean from lack of pollutants. 

he had almost forgotten about the summers. he spent so long in the air conditioned apartments of the city he almost forgot the countryside, how the breeze from the sea made even the hottest days bearable.  back in the landlocked city, the sun reflected heat from the payment and beat down on everyone. there was no reprieve from the heat, wind not being able to get past the walls of buildings. 

wonbin. couldn’t stop himself from wishing minju would give his home a chance. she wouldn’t bake in the sun here, and the vibrant green that surrounded him would bring out his favorite parts of her complexion. she could dig her manicured hands into the soft brown soil and realize there was a whole world of color outside of the abysmal grey buildings that normally surrounded her. they could’ve experienced the best parts of his city together.

the worst part was that the main mode of transportation was by car. there was no trusty public transportation system that wonbin had grown to memorize like the back of his hand. wonbin forgot that being carless without a license outside of the city would force him to become crafty. wonbin started crossing busy intersections on foot and walked carelessly on paved paths that abruptly merged into the road.

wonbin stopped trying to venture out far due to the safety concerns brought up by his parents. summer brought back the crazy drivers, ones that didn’t care about pedestrians. wonbin found himself to be even worse than them, crossing intersections without having the right of way. he was forced to get crafty again when he saw his older sisters childhood bike sitting in the corner of the garage. 

the bike quickly became his main mode of transportation, and wonbin now only travelled locally. he reasoned that he was fighting back against the automotive industry that was determined to ruin the beautiful landscapes of his home. wonbin was singlehandedly offsetting the carbon emissions of vehicles by riding his sister’s shitty little bike. it was basically the same thing as a car. he was on the road, he had a turn signal that was his hand. he could even hit the throttle by standing up from the tiny seat to add more force behind his peddling feet. 

the pedals were too low on the bike and the seat was entirely too small. the chain always sounded like it was going to rust away and the chipping pink paint always found its way to his clothes or skin—but it worked. even if the bike felt like it would collapse under wonbin’s weight it always got him to his destination. riding it was at first embarrassing, but it turned into nostalgia. he remembers taking his sisters christmas gift for joyrides around his town. it was his first taste of rebellion, stealing something from his sister—that in wonbin’s defense she didn’t use—to have fun around his town. wonbin remembers removing the training wheels and the bike pegs to ride around on the streets long after the the streetlamps turned on. wonbin’s mother and sister were fuming each time he came back. he was covered in sweat and smelled like the earth, with his hair mussed from the wind that ran through it.

now was no different. each morning when his parents left to run errands wonbin rode the bike out the garage at the speed of light. each time his sister would yell after him, claiming that the rusting bike was still hers. he laughed and teased her as he rode it away just like when he was a kid, looking back to stick his tongue out at her. occasionally she would try throwing something and always miss, wonbin laughing at her failed attempt as he sped off. 

when wonbin hit the open road the wind gave him relief. it was additional relief from the heat, and from the situation back home. if he thought about minju for too long, quick flashes of jealously would cross his mind. the feeling was cold and bleak as wonbin thought about what minju was doing. he was almost driven to ask for her location, or at the very least call her. but he let the wind wick away his sweat and cool his mind. when he passed by the foliage of the town it all became a green vibrant blur, like it was shot on technicolor. life was lively just like when he were a kid and he tried to be carefree like a child too. wonbin kept smiling all the way to the gas station, his legs taking him there purely on instinct. his knees were ten years old again as he peddled down the street, passing by childhood friend houses that were occupied by different families now. 

wonbin didn’t slow down until he got to the parking lot. he came down from his standing position on the bike until he was sitting on the tiny seat. the seat eroded over the years, exposing hard parts of the foam. when wonbin sat down he could feel the texture of the ground beneath him. each pebble and bump in the street he couldn’t avoid. the texture of the paved road changed to the dirt parking lot, until he got to the textured concrete stoop of the store. wonbin came to a slow stop right beside the door, pulling out the flimsy kickstand that barely supported the weight of the bicycle. 

he got off and adjusted his shorts that rode up from his legs. almost instantly, the heat of the day caught on his skin, and the heavy air of the surrounding water made everything feel sticky. the heat was becoming thicker as the day went and wonbin couldn’t wear any less to try and fight it. the chipped paint particles of the bike stuck to his skin like freckles, glued to him from the sweat. but this is where wonbin was born and raised—it didn’t matter if he didn’t look his best. so he walked more relaxed than he ever did in the city, saying hi to the person that passed by him to get into their car. the stranger told wonbin that he had a nice ride with a smile on their face. he smiled back and offered to trade for the car, tilting his head as he put his hand on the door.

the small bell above the entrance rang when wonbin pulled the handle. it bounced off the walls but was so familiar no one looked up. if no one came in shooting a gun or demanding money, it was business as usual. everything about the gas station remained the same, especially the selection of food and the clientele. there were two maybe three people looking for a cool drink to help beat the heat or a snack to hold them over until their next meal. the only difference was that there was an ancient television propped in the corner next to the booth where the cashier was. this was different from the small television that stood above the alcohol, warning people that they were on camera. this television had a terrible case of burn-in, and was stuck playing reruns of some show no one watched anymore. everyone came to this gas station but it was never busy, evident by the worker behind the register that flipped through a magazine without a care in the world. 

wonbin didn’t think too much about what he was going to buy. it was a treat each time he came here, and each time wonbin found himself craving something different. 

he grabbed a small plastic basket, one that was in worse condition than his sisters bike. it was funny how worn down everything in his town was. he went through the small aisles of the gas station, so close to the drink fridges he had to press his body to one side each time someone passed by him. 

wonbin browsed for what seemed like hours, constantly taking out snacks and putting them back on the shelves and holding drinks side by side to decide which one is better. when wonbin put back a drink for the fifth time and let the fridge door close on it’s gasket he heard the worker behind the counter.

“you’re going to let all the cold air out.” she said with indifference. 

wonbin tried looking over the aisles of snacks to get a better look at whoever scolded him. he couldn’t make out anything about you, other than the uniform shirt that wasn’t buttoned all the way. he only got a glimpse of your collarbones moving and the bracelets that adorned the wrist that held your bored head upright through the magazine pages, and the rings on your fingers that rubbed your chin. wonbin only saw the smallest part of your face that wasn’t obstructed by the aisles in front of him. 

you still didn’t look up from your magazine, wonbin could hear flipping the pages over the music that came from the blown out speakers. he said nothing in response but took your scolding into account, only opening the fridge one more time to grab his final drink choice.

wonbin found the food you wanted quickly, grabbing a snack from the shelves he hadn’t seen in the city. wonbin grabbed more than he should’ve, almost cleaning out the entire supply.

wonbin navigated through the aisles again, smiling past the new faces that entered the store while he were browsing. he set the basket on the counter, pulling out his debit card to set on the counter.

when wonbin pulled out his card and looked up from the basket, he finally got a full look at the cashier who scolded him. wonbin saw you look up from your magazine in slow motion, stilling like a movie before him. you were like a dream, your hair was up to try and manage the heat, the strands blowing from the fan that cooled your face. wonbin focused on the sweat that started at your hairline that caused your face to shine like gloss. your faced shined despite the dim lighting of the gas station that casted a green-yellow tint over everything. wonbin didn’t know something so contemporary existed in his archaic hometown. you were too beautiful to be stuck behind the plastic barrier that separated the two of you. you were too elegant to have your backdrop be cigarettes, condoms, and lighters. 

wonbin took in all your features but settled on your lips last, his eyes drifting when he saw them move before going back to their original expressionless line. a second too late wonbins eyes flickered to yours, watching them raise from where you sat. you looked to his items and then pointed underneath the counter. wonbin blinked and moved the empty basket away. 

“sorry. what?” he asked.

“i asked if you wanted a bag.” you said.

“yeah.” wonbin cleared his throat. “paper please.” he said.

wonbin saw your eyes dart up to see if he was serious. wonbin caught himself a second too late, getting a scoff from you before you pulled a plastic bag from below the counter. the bag crinkled as it interacted with the wind, opening to full capacity as the air pushed it open. you put in his stuff with ease, typing wonbin’s total into the point of sale system before turning it to him. wonbin shook his head while he put his card in the empty slot.

“we only got plastic here.” you said smiling.

“sorry. it’s a habit.” wonbin said.

you only hummed in acknowledgment before going back to your magazine. his bag stood upright from the weight of his drink—he hated that the bag blocked some of your face. 

wonbin was used to being ignored, customer service wasn’t something he found himself looking for when leaving the house. he actually preferred to have as little interaction as possible with people he didn’t know personally. he liked to be in and out, getting what he needed—nothing more nothing less. regardless, when wonbin saw you turn back to your magazine his mind started frantically beachrching for a way to get your attention back.

“i’m visiting family.” wonbin blurted out.

“cool.” you said simply, still turning the pages of your magazine.

“my name is wonbin.” he blurted again.

his unprompted introduction got your attention. you looked up from your magazine, chewing the gum that lost it’s flavor a long time ago. it was in your mouth purely to keep you awake and to occupy your mind. the gum was turning to rubber in your mouth as you took him in. you found him to be much more entertaining than the petty drama of the rich you were forcing yourself to read about. the way wonbin wore his white mesh shirt with the solid shirt underneath was better than the celebrities in their designer dresses, and his curled black hair gave him a boyish look that complimented his shy demeanor. when you looked up at him he looked away, the tips of his ears were more red than the marlboro’s that sat behind you. you thought you had seen the boy that stood in front of you riding around on that tiny bike, but you never got a closer look at him.

“hi wonbin,” you flicked your head towards the glass window where the bike leaned on the other side. “that’s your bike out there?”

you saw wonbin come to, shaking his head a little too fast. you closed your magazine and leaned forward, coming closer to the clear plastic barrier that separated to two of you. wonbin leaned back slightly, and the tips of his ears got redder.

“it’s my sisters. it’s really old. i have to ride it because i don’t have a car. because i live in the city.” wonbin rushed.

you nodded calmly to each additional statement wonbin made unprompted. he was becoming more and more flustered just by you giving him your full attention. 

you looked at the point of sale system, it was screaming at wonbin to take out his card, and you had two person line forming behind him as he racked his mind for something else to say. you tapped the part of wonbin’s card that stuck out before he snatched it away.

“sorry.” he apologized again.

“no reason to apologize.” you said simply.

you spoke to wonbin, looking up quickly as the receipt printed from the machine. the proof of transaction curled towards you as it printed out slowly. 

wonbin watched your impatient hand pull the paper out a little too fast, leaving a tiny ripped piece behind. wonbin quickly took his bag off the counter and casted a glance back towards the two people in line. wonbin for some reason stood in place, like he was waiting for you to dismiss him. he never waited around this long, always politely shaking his head when asked if he wanted the receipt. but he stood underneath the buzzing fluorescent light while you grabbed a pen and flattened the receipt with your non-dominant hand.

“you want your receipt?” you asked, not looking up from the paper.

wonbin nodded before realizing you couldn’t see him nod. he cleared his throat again, feeling the impatient eyes of the people in line behind him. it felt hotter in the gas station than it was outside—wonbin started sweating underneath his airy shirt.

“yes please.” wonbin said.

you slid the paper across the counter towards him. the receipt curled back in on itself when you took your hand away. wonbin quickly grabbed the paper, as if someone was going to snatch it from him. your attention went to the person behind him in line, gesturing forward to let him know he was next. he kept it moving in a daze, sounding off the same bell as he exited the gas station. he walked along outside slowly, trying not to show you how much he was freaking out through the glass. wonbin didn’t let himself look at the note until he stood beside his tiny bike that was one gust of wind from tipping over.

wonbin ran his fingers over your number written in ink and beamed at the tiny note at the bottom.

i’m off work in thirty minutes.

wonbin looked inside the gas station, watching you help the next person in line. you looked back for just a second as the person approached your register, smiling and gesturing for wonbin to call you. he smiles before getting on his bike, placing his bag in the little basket in front of the bike. 

wonbin planned to make it back to his house to shower and dress in nicer clothes before going back to the gas station. he remembered the semi nice summer clothes he never took with him when he moved, and he remembered his sisters offer to trim the ends of his hair that had grown in uneven. he planned to make himself look nice, maybe even pick up some food he thought you might like. wonbin looked at the sky biking home, thinking about how happy you looked to give him your number. his mind was too focused on the clouds that he didn’t notice the bike underneath him finally decided to give up. 

when the chain broke, wonbin didn’t initially notice. all he knew what that one second he could pedal and the next he could not. there was no resistance from the pedals but he lost control, the bike behaving on it’s own. for a moment wonbin thought his legs were failing him. but when he looked down he saw the rusted chain loosely hang on the gears of the bike he felt it veering to the side of the road. he was going to fast to stop safely, and the sudden change in angle almost threw him off of the bike’s eroding seat.

wonbin was able to gain control of the bike only for a second. just when he thought he gained control of the steering the terrain underneath the old wheels changed. the old wheels weren’t used to the dirt, or to the wildflowers that tangled themselves in the wheels. the sudden stopped strew wonbin off from the side, causing him to fall partially down the steep hill of the wild flower bank. suddenly the blue sky was replaced with the tall green grass and the colorful blooming flowers. 

landing on the flowers was better than landing on the paved roads, but regardless it was painful. it didn’t help that wonbin rolled down the hill, leaving a burning feeling on the exposed skin of his leg. he stayed still on the ground for a moment, looking up at the sky with a completely different mood. the white clouds moved quickly above him as he registered what just happened. wonbin bent all of his limbs to make sure nothing broke or was strained. he lifted his head slightly, seeing the still spinning front wheel of his previously working bike and the rusted chain that now was completely gone. 

wonbin propped himself on his elbows next, seeing the dirt and grass stain on his shirt and pants, and seeing the red scrape on his knee. that was the only thing that hurt, wincing when he touched it. wonbin stayed like that, laying in the flower bank as he realized what just happened.

wonbin wasn’t sure how long he was laying in the grass. cars past by wonbin unstopping, his body hidden by the long grass. it wasn’t until he heard a bike passing by him before stopping suddenly.

“you dead?” you said to wonbin

wonbin looked up from his spot on the earth. he saw you sitting on your bike with the pegs on the back wheel, one foot kicked out to keep you upright. you looked slightly concered, peering down at the laid out body beside the road.

you were no longer in your work uniform, dressed in something trendy. you were dressed like minju. wonbin thought you wore it better before he cringed at himself inwardly. 

“my bike broke.” wonbin said casually. 

he looked towards the bike and you followed, eyes going wide when you notice the missing chain. the wheel had fallen off in the process too, rolling down the hill all the way to the gate that separated the beach from the flowerbank. 

“i saw you laid out, thought you knocked yourself out or something.” wonbin still laid on the dirt, looking down at his throbbing knee. he heard you walk through through the grass until you stood beside him on the hit. wonbin tried to look at your face but the sun that shined behind you obstructed his vision. all he could see was your hand that you put out towards him. “are you going to lay there all day?” you asked.

wonbin grabbed your hand and you pulled him up, helping him take off blades of grass and dust off some of the dirt. wonbin inspected his knee and the grass stains embedded in his jeans. you saw the injury on his knee after you did a once over of his body. 

“my house is near here.” you pointed down the road. “we can get you cleaned up or something so that doesn’t get infected.” you said, pointing to wonbin’s knee.

when he looked back at the bike you looked too, thinking about what to do.

“i can drop you off at your place after. i don’t think we will be able to fix that.” you said.

wonbin nodded, and slowly walked behind you as you made your way back up the hill. wonbin bit his lips as he forced his legs to walk normally. 

when you two made it back up the hill, you put the kickstand back up and straddled the seat. you pointed your head backwards to the two bike pegs that jutted from your back wheels.

wonbin understood, putting on foot on the bike peg and a hand on your shoulder.

“help me kick off and then you can put your other foot up.” you instruct.

wonbin hums in acknowledgement, paying attention to when you start peddling on your bike. wonbin uses all of his force on his good leg to kick off, giving you enough speed to peddle with the extra weight added on. wonbin lets his foot dangle for a second, ready to dismount if you lose control. but you’re a better bicyclist than wonbin, instantly finding your balance and making your way down the road wonbin fell off of. he looks back for a second at the tiny pink bike laying on the hill, silently memorizing it so he can come back.

wonbin balances on the bike pegs behind you. he holds onto you tightly, still traumatized from the thought of falling off a bike again. you are unaffected, peddling down the road chirping your bell at people who pass by. when you take a turn wonbin leans, doing his best to keep the balance.

“where do you live?” you ask.

wonbin barely heard you, too enveloped in the sound of nature around him. your question registers a second later, and wonbin clears his throat.

“seoul.” wonbin says.

wonbin expected to hear the trademark oooh or ahhhh that comes from people’s mouths when he mentions where he lives. wonbin always lets his chest swell in pride when he hears the sound. but you are indifferent, only humming as you continue to peddle.

“i go to college there.” you ring your bell at joggers who wave at you. it’s wonbin’s turn to hum in acknowledgement. “not all it’s cracked out to be.” you say after a beat of silence.

“definitely not.” wonbin agrees.

you were right about your house being close by.  before wonbin could ask you about your life in seoul, you stopped in front of a house. wonbin had lived here his whole life and never seen this house. wonbin thought it was by design as you led him up the driveway. your house was blocked from all sides due to the growing trees, shrouding your house in shade. wonbin must’ve passed your house at some point in his life, not seeing what was right in front of him.

as your bike got slower, wonbin dismounted, feet digging into the gravel driveway. he hissed from the pain of dismount, completely forgetting his knee was in pain.

“be caareful.” you chided.

wonbin nodded his head, about to tell you sorry until he remembered what you say in the gas station. no reason to apologize wonbin assured himself. he instead nodded his head, following beside you as you dismounted your bike too.

“my parents went to a wedding. they’re not here but they don’t care when i have guests over.” you said.

wonbin passes by the car in your driveway, following behind you closely as you walk beside it. wonbin can’t help to take a peak inside the car through the tinted windows. he sees the steering wheel cover and the dangling charms from your mirror. 

“you drive?” wonbin asks.

“yeah but not lately. my car broke, and my parents refuse to help me get it fixed.” you say.

wonbin remembered seeing the PLEASE FIX ME :( written in the dust of the back window. he wonders if that’s why you have a shitty job at a gas station instead of working and living in seoul. you leave your bike on it’s kickstand beside your steps before walking up the stairs. 

you open the front door, you couldn’t be bothered to lock it. no one here bothers to lock their doors or lock up their bikes—they’ve never had to. wonbin remembers that bad habit he had to break when he heard about burglaries in his building. 

he watches you walk through the space of your house, beginning your short tour at the front entrance where you kicked off your shoes and ending it in the study. you only mentioned the kitchen you two walked through in passing, and failed to show wonbin your bathroom before disappearing to grab him stuff for his scraped knee.

“make yourself comfortable on the couch. i’ll be back.” you say.

when you are gone, wonbin lets himself finally limp from the pain. he practically hobbles to the couch, uneasy on his good leg. his body falls on the side of the couch, letting his body sink into the armrest and cushion as he takes in his appearance. dried blood and dirt is caked on his knee, he somehow got dirt underneath his fingernails and his clothes are stained from the grass. wonbin sees a tear in his clothes he didn’t detect before. he had a really nasty fall, and was more hurt than he realized. brambles and scratchy plants left tiny scrapes that itched on his arm and thighs. 

“i’m back.” you say.

wonbin turns to you coming back from the hallway, one hand holding hydrogen peroxide and the other holding bandages. wonbin sits up on the couch scooting closer to the armrest to give you the most space. instead wonbin watches you sink to the ground on your knees, putting your supplies on the carpet next to you. 

you look up to wonbin before looking down quickly. wonbin’s eyes stay on the top of your head, not knowing what to do being this close to you. you don’t know either, by the way you constantly clear your throat and hesitate speaking. it isn’t until you clean wonbin’s knee with a warm rag that you speak.

“this is going to hurt.” you say.

wonbin can’t react before you press a cotton ball with hydrogen peroxide to his knee. wonbin jerks, pressing his knees together and winces in pain. it’s you apologizing this time, laughing slightly at his reaction. wonbin laughs too, to stop himself from rubbing his wound with his dirty hands.

you put ointment over his scrape before covering it with a large bandaid. wonbin wants to tell you he feels better, that he thinks your touch healed him. but all the words are lost when you look up at him from your spot on the ground. 

“thank you. i feel better now.” wonbin says. 

his hands come down his thighs, ending right before yours start. you still have one hand above the injury on wonbin’s knee, at some point you moved your other hand to his knee too. you’re touching him and wonbin thinks it’s too unfair. he wants to reach out and touch the apples of your cheeks, or touch a piece of hair that frames your face perfectly. your hands grabs onto wonbin’s knee a little tighter and you readjust your body, sitting on your haunches. wonbin lets his hands drift over the tops of your soft hands, holding onto them. your eyes stare at wonbin, and he leans closer to your sitting body on the ground. he can see the shadow of his face cast on yours, how your eyes shine brightly as you look at him. wonbin doesn’t dare come the rest of the way, he only closes his eyes and waits fro you to decide what he deserves.

when you press your lips to wonbin, he takes in how good you smell. sweet and fresh like clean laundry. even being inside the sweaty gas station for god knows how long you still smelled like a living flowwer. wonbin tumbled down a hill of flowers, he knew he smelled like sweat and dirt. his fingernails were dirty, too dirty to touch you. he was getting his grimy smell over your body. he needed to take a shower. he needed to be home. he needed to call minju. 

wonbin abruptly pulled away from you. your lips are still puckered when your eyes flutter open.

“i have a girlfriend,” wonbin sees your expression become shocked. “back home.” he added quickly.

your body that was leaning into wonbin straightens, and he can see your shoulders visibly sag. you comprehend the information wonbin gives you, rubbing your lips together briefly.

“oh.” you said quietly. 

you fixed the sleeve of your shirt that had fallen past your shoulder, turning your body to face wonbin’s wound instead of wonbin’s face. he still stayed in place, replaying the moment of you craning your body towards his lips in to kiss him over and over again. 

you tend to wonbin’s wound again, still gently as you two sit in silence.

“why isn’t she here with you?” you asked finally.

“she hates the beach. and she hates riding bikes.” wonbin knows he’s speaking to quickly, giving you too much information. but he keeps feeling the ghost of your lips on his again. “she also cheated on me.” he added.

that caused you to look away from his wound to look at his face. he wanted to tell you the details, how he caught her on a couch the same size as this one. but he just kept looking at your lips, how soft they were and how they moved to shape sounds coming from your mouth into words.

“i’m sorry.” you said. 

you brought a hand to wonbin’s thigh. he doesn’t remember the last time someone touched him so intimately. but it was under false pretenses.

this touch was for comfort, and wonbin didn’t need to be comforted. he shook his head lightly before placing his hand over yours, stopping your ministrations on his leg.

“don’t be. i’m okay.” wonbin said.

both of you raised your eyebrows at wonbin’s i’m okay. it fell from his lips unnaturally, after he took a beat to lick his dry lips. there was a faint taste of your chapstick. wonbin decided then and there that he was not okay, he needed to kiss you until he found out what flavor was on your glossy lips.

“i was cheated on, too.” you said.

you squeezed wonbin’s hand a little tighter, and he looked to you with wide eyes.

“i met him in college, we were dating for a year? i think,” wonbin sees your eyes go up as you try to remember the dates. you pause for a moment before realizing the exact details don’t matter. “i found out he was sleeping with a girl he was childhood friends with.” you say.

wonbin wonders if you caught them the same way he did. he wonders if your boyfriend told you not to worry about his friend.

“how’d you get over it?” wonbin asks.

he squeezes your hand back and you give wonbin a smile. maybe you are embarrassed for sharing too much. maybe you’re embarrassed for wonbin. either way, he watches your eyes go to the frayed fabric of wonbin’s jean shorts. you pick at it for a second, still pinching the white strings as you look back up to wonbin.

“i fucked his bestfriend?” you say.

you say it like your confused, like you weren’t there when it happened. wonbin assumes the relaxed way you said it came with time of healing. wonbin prays he will get to that point soon.

“did it make you feel better?” wonbin asks.

wonbin sees you think. he sees you look upwards, laughing as you recalled the memories.

“as twisted as it sounds,” you looked to wonbin “it felt fucking great.” you said with a smile.

if wonbin was in his right mind, he would’ve asked you to take him home. he would’ve called minju to break up with her, or at the very least call her in efforts to relieve some of the pain he felt in his chest.

“but they’re still friends and my parents are at a wedding. so who really won is still up for debate, i guess.” you laugh dryly.

wonbin doesn’t bother to ask anymore questions. maybe if he actually had something to apologize for next time he talked to minju he could move on. so he closed the distance between the two of you again, bringing both hands to your surprised face to pull you in.

both of your eyes closed at the same time, and wonbin let you take the lead to deepen the kiss. your hand on his thigh was even softer on his face. wonbin leaned back feeling you stand on your knees as you tilted your head to the side. wonbin followed and separeted his knees, letting you slot between them. 

your face underneath wonbin’s fingertips was soft, almost as soft as your plush lips and your wet tongue that touched his. you were a much better kisser than minju. maybe it was wonbin searching for a reason to feel better about kissing a stranger while his girlfriend wanted to get back together. the more he kissed you the more he forgot, only one thing on the forefront of his mind when he pulled away again.

“strawberries.” wonbin said casually.

you were confused, blinking away your blown out eyes as tongue swiped over your lips.

“what?” you asked.

“your chapstick. it tastes like strawberries.” he repeated.

when wonbin specified, your whole face smiled. it started at your lips and reached all the way up to your eyes while you nodded. you brought wonbin’s face back down to yours, so close that your lips were touching before you spoke.

“yeah, you’re right.” you said.

you brought wonbin back in, kissing him for what seemed like ages. when you pulled away his lips were swollen from the biting, and he was breathless. you seemed to still be ready, kissing and sucking on his neck. wonbin felt your hands travel from his face to his shoulders, picking at the neckline of his shirt. your hands went further down, tracing the sides of his body until you reached the waistband of his jeans.

wonbin couldn’t stop himself from grabbing your wrist before your hand can  fumble with the button of his pants. he doesn’t want you to stop, but the way his chest is already heaving makes him think he may pass out. when you look up at him between his legs, wonbin gets lightheaded.

“do you want me to stop?” you ask.

wonbin shakes his head, his hand still gripping your wrist.

“you have to let go of me so i can take care of you wonbin.” you say.

your words are kind and dripping with honey even though wonbin knows he’s being annoying. when he would be in situations like this with minju, it was always orders with a hard voice instead of something so nice and sweet. sometimes he liked that, but most of the time he wanted to be treated gently—the world was already so rough with him.

wonbin doesn’t let go of your wrist, but loosens his grip allowing you to move freely. you take it as a green light, still keeping your eyes on him as you unbutton his pants. you pull the loose denim down to his ankles, treating it as a cushion for your knees. 

in just his briefs, wonbin feels exposed. the hard outline of his dick in his line of sight makes him feel lightheaded. when you slowly inch your hand up his thigh, closer and closer to his twitching length wonbin has to lean his whole body into the back of the couch for stability. he unknowingly tightens his grip on your wrist, already fighting the urge to rut into your palm.

wonbin is embarrassed, especially how you halt your movements to look at his twitching thighs, and how his free hand underneath his thigh digs into his skin. wonbin can tell you are looking up at him, but wonbin can’t take his eyes of your ceiling, counting each individual tile.

“does your girlfriend touch you like this?” you ask quietly.

he shakes his head, sinking further into the armrest of the couch. minju only needed to tell wonbin once that she doesn’t suck dick. the closest he ever got was a sloppy handjob, that ended with wonbin apologizing profusely when he came all over her hand and his stomach.

“are you a virgin?” you ask.

wonbin shakes his head again. he twitches in his briefs at the tone of your voice, how delicate you are with him. wonbin realizes he knows nothing about you, and you probably know even less about him. you take the time to know him intimately on your couch, trying to make him feel as comfortable as possible by rubbing his legs soothingly.

“i’m sor—”

before wonbin can finish, his words trails off when you place your hand over his clothed dick. his sentence ends with a whine as his dick twitches towards the warmth of your palm. he screws his eyes shut, completely losing count of the tiled ceiling. 

when he feels your wet lips on his thigh, wonbin looks down at you.

“don’t apologize.” you place another wet kiss, one that wonbin follows until he sits on the edge of the couch. “i like how sensitive you are.” you say.

wonbin doesn’t know if you’re talking about him physically or emotionally. his eyes are already wet looking down at you, how your other hand starts messing with his elastic waistband. almost like a switch had flipped, wonbin feels his normal apologetic attitude shift to thankfulness. maybe it’s the way you sound in awe at wonbin’s twitches, or how you let his hand guide you on how he wants to be touched.

your hand pulls at wonbin’s waistband, and he sits up from the couch to give you more access. you’re able to pull his briefs all the way down his legs, freeing his heavy dick so it can slap against his lower stomach. wonbin whines at the sensation of himself being fully exposed, and you hum sympathetically

“so pretty.” you blow cold air onto wonbin’s dick, watching it jump slightly from his stomach. wonbin digs his nails further into his thigh. “can i touch you, wonbin?” you ask.

wonbin nods his head, feeling you wrap your hand around his length. he can’t let go of your wrist, using it as a method of grounding himself. 

you are careful and slow, gathering the precum from wonbin’s sensitive tip to help you glide down his length. wonbin takes deep breaths through his nose and out through his mouth, letting his breath catch in his throat when you grip his length a little tighter.

when wonbin peaks down to see your hand wrapped around his dick he thrusts up into your hand. it’s a knee jerk reaction, something wonbin doesn’t care to control because it makes you bite your lip and pick up the pace of your hand. when wonbin sees his tip poke out past your hand red and angry, he lets his loudest whimper slip past his lips.

“keep going.” you sound almost as desperate as wonbin feels. “keep going.” you repeat.

wonbin listens to you, weakly lifting his hips to continue fucking your hand. his dick glides through your fist from the precum, and wonbin doesn’t stop even when his thighs start to burn. he takes his hand from his thigh and digs it into the armrest instead to keep his body suspended. his hand on your wrist moves to cover your hand on his dick. wonbin wedges his fingers in between yours, and you both form a fist together. 

“can i suck on it?” you ask quickly.

“yes please.” wonbin whines.

you take your hand away from wonbin’s dick, and he continues to pump his dick alone. you use both of your hands to presson his thighs, bringing him back down to the couch. you waste no time guiding wonbin’s dick to your mouth. he can feel his wet fingers poke your soft bottom lip as he lets go of his dick. you’re determined, only pausing for a second before taking the rest of wonbin in your mouth. 

you’re wet and warm around his dick, and when you hollow out your cheeks wonbin presses his back into the couch. he almost wants to pull himself out of your mouth, whimpering in your quiet living room about how sensitive he is. but wonbin looks down at your wet eyes looking up at him, how you bat your eyelashes before moving a spare hand to massage his balls. he sees your nipples poking through your shirt, how your chest is perched perfectly on the couch so close for him to touch. he can see the arch in your back, and he imagines your ass sticking out perfectly. it’s too much, all too much for poor thankful wonbin. 

his hand goes to fist your hair and his whimpers turn to moans. it makes you take him deeper, pulling his dick all the way from your mouth before you take him to your throat. even through the gagging and tears forming at your waterline you don’t stop. wonbin doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this, to have someone so pretty on their knees in front of him. you were the same girl that wouldn’t give anyone the time of day from your little box inside the gas station. but you look up at wonbin, treating him better than he ever has been treated his whole life. his hand in your air tightens but it doesn’t guide you. he is overwhelmed with emotion, and he just has to feel you somehow. you grab his free hand that is clenched beside him and wonbin instantly intertwines his fingers with yours.

“i’m close.” wonbin whines.

you nod and pinch his thigh, causing his to jerk upwards quickly. your moans vibrate around wonnbin’s dick, and he understands what you want him to do. he starts lifting his lips and fucking your mouth, slow in comparison to your bobbing head. when wonbin feels like he’s about to burst at the seams, he grabs himself from the base and pulls himself out of your mouth.

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, smearing the spit at the corner of your lips across your chin. 

wonbin blinks quickly and runs his tongue over his wet lips. he’s never been good at asking for what he wants, especially when it came to sex. he was content with getting or giving whatever minju was in the mood for, too shy to ask for anything more. so wonbin’s request to have you ride him dies in his throat. he is at a loss for words when he sees your wet eyes become confused.

“too much?” you ask.

“not enough.” wonbin says.

wonbin reaches for your shoulders, trying to pull your body up from the ground to come closer to him. you’re slow getting up, legs slightly sore from being on your knees for too long. you grab something beside you before fulling standing in front of wonbin. you hand him the condom, and he looks up to you with big eyes as you work for the button on your shorts. he can see your midriff directly in front of his face, he focuses on the skin as he puts the condom on his sensitive dick.

wonbin looks up between the valley of your braless chest to see you looking outside. wonbin is grateful for the sun that shines all day, giving him a perfect view of your face. you look down at wonbin as your hands go to your shirt, inviting him to take your tight jeans pants off for you.

wonbin is quick, pulling off both your panties and jeans in one go. when they pool at your ankles you step out, stumbling slightly from not being able to see. your shirt is halfway over your head but wonbin is there to keep you steady. his hand wraps around your ass and the other presses into your side, bringing your stomach so close to wonbin his nose presses into your abdomen. he takes in a deep shaking breath of you, smelling the sun and your body wash. everything about you is so green, so lively and luscious wonbin presses his teeth into the skin of your stomach. you gasp lightly and look down at him, hands going to his shoulders when you get your shirt off. your smile tells wonbin that you like it, and your head tilt when he sinks his teeth in deeper tells him you love it.

wonbin pulls away, a string of spit connecting his lips to your stomach. you come down from standing, using your hands on wonbin’s shoulders to push him down gently. wonbin puts all of his trust in you, still having both hands on your body as you slowly push his back to the couch.  

his head was leaning on the headrest when you let go of his shoulders, using your hand to trace down his body. your hands didn’t discriminate, they didn’t work around the grass stains of dry clumps of dirt still stuck to his body. you dragged a hand slowly down from the center of his chest, not stopping until you got to his straining dick again. you come close to wonbin until your chest touch as you guide his length to your entrance.

“is this alright?” you ask. 

wonbin nods and closes his eyes as he feels his tip prod your entrance.

“yes, minju.” 

wonbin realizes his mistake a second before it’s too late. he hadn’t even thought about her up to this point, only thinking about you. it’s still a habit, saying his girlfriends name during sex. his eyes shoot open, to your face that is still understanding. you only shake your head slightly before kissing wonbin’s cheek and going to his ear, letting your breath fan the shell.

“you know my name.” wonbin’s hand on your hip tightens as he feels you guide his tip past your folds “let’s say it together.” you whisper in wonbin’s ear.

he nods against your head, and your name becomes prolonged and broken with a whine as you completely guide wonbin’s dick inside of your cunt. 

both of you feel it, how you fit together like puzzle pieces. wonbin’s foot is planted on the ground beside the couch, and your leg goes in between the cushions as you draw your hips back up. you regretfully pull away from wonbin to get a better angle. you plant your feet on the coffee table beside your couch and the other one sinks in the crack of the couch. you don’t care, because it allows you to rise and fall back down on wonbin’s dick. both of his hands help you, and he doesn’t let anything else fall from his lips except for name.

wonbin gets too close to finishing too fast. it’s inevitable, the way you look above him and how his hands feel against his skin. he can’t focus on how your walls feel wrapped around him, how you suck him in each time you sink your body bad down. wonbin grips at handfuls of your sweaty skin as he starts lifting his hips to meet yours.

“i’m close.” wonbin whines.

“okay.” you whimper back.

wonbin watches your hand drop to your clit, stimulating the bundle of nerves. he lets you focus while he takes charge of bringing your hips down to his. the wet sound fills the space of your living room, and wonbin can feel his sweat dripping onto the couch. 

“i’m close too.” you were in a haste, not letting up on your clit as wonbin continued bringing you down with more force. your hand that held onto the back of the couch was clutched by wonbin, holding your hand as you both became too sensitive to speak. “i’m gonna cum, wonbin.” you say.

“me too.” wonbin says a moment too late.

he can’t bring himself to pull your hips down as he empties into the condom. you milk wonbin’s dick and twitch above him, your hand spasming as you continue your revolutions. wonbin wishes he had another hand to stimulate your clit for you, but his hand is too busy holding parts of your body he doesn’t want to forget. when your body bends forward he lets go of your hip to hold your head, bringing you to the crook of his neck. both of you become squirming messes, rutting your hips recklessly against eachother. you pull away from his neck and rest your forehead on his, mouth agape as you ride out the wave. wonbin looks you straight in the eye, losing himself in the way your lids become hooded and sleepy when you finally start coming down. 

wonbin rests against the couch, letting his clammy body find it’ss strength again. you fold over and the two of your are chest to chest again, rapid hearts beating on top of eachother. wonbin holds you tight to his chest, as he feels tears prickling his vision. he blinks them away, choosing to focus how your finger draws light shapes into his arm. you don’t look up at wonbin’s face as you continue drawing your shapes.

“my parents are probably on their way back now.” you say absentmindedly.

wonbin bites his lip, hoping to taste strawberry.

“my mom is probably worried.” wonbin says.

you sigh heavily, bringing your head from wonbin’s chest to look at his face. you brush his overgrown bangs from his eyes, looking deep into them with sadness.

“we should probably leave then, huh?” you say.

wonbin can only nod, afraid that he will cry if he speaks. so you move off of him silently, shivering when his dick slides out of you. you put your clothes back on and wonbin does the same. he pulls his pants back up while still sitting on the couch, cringing at how uncomfortable his wet briefs feel. 

the tied off condom is thrown away in the kitchen trash, hidden underneath rearranged garbage. wonbin follows you silently out of your home, taking one last look behind him at your living room before closing the door behind him. maybe he can dream about this instead of running.

“i know the way back to my house, so i can drive.” wonbin offers.

you nod, letting him take the lead down the stairs as he carefully takes your bike off the kickstand.

“it’ll probably be easier to ride than that little kid bike.” you laugh.

wonbin laughs too as he adjusts the seat, he does a few test peddles and you watch, hands on your hips as wonbin gets used to a bike made for someone his age.

you follow behind him, letting him gain momentum down your driveway. when wonbin is about to make the turn off the gravel path, you place hands on his shoulders and jump seamlessly onto the bike pegs. once you’re on, wonbin picks up the speed, transitioning from your driveway to the road.

as you and wonbin ride to his place, the sun begins to set. the world is illuminated in a calm blue, and the cool breeze causes both of you to let out sighs of relief. wonbin looks to the side to the beach. the waves call to him, almost like a siren when his phone vibrates in his pocket.

“sorry, can we stop here,” wonbin points to a hill leading down the the beach. he’s quick, only letting the bike wobble for a second from the loss of equilibrium before bringing his hand back to the handle bars. “i have to make a call.”

wonbin feels your hands that gripped his shoulders loosen as the bike regains balance. when he gets your approval he strays from the main road onto the dirt path made by foot traffic. 

before the hill goes down wonbin stops, letting you get off before fishing his phone from his back pocket. he’s silent as he sees no new notifications rest on his lock screen. he can tell you notice, by the way you offer to grab the bike and point your head towards a place of privacy that faces the beach.

“i’ll be up here. i don’t have work tomorrow so take your time.” you say with a smile.

wonbin nods before making his way down the hill. it’s familiar, memories of running down the hill recklessly fills his mind. he remembers coming here to smoke, passing around a cigarette he didn’t really have a taste for with his friends. wonbin didn’t remember the comfort being surrounded by water brought him. being landlocked made him forget the soothing sound of the waves crashing, or the salty breeze that made him feel stronger. the strength of the water came to him, making him pull up minju’s contact and pressing call. 

minju was a nightowl. there wasn’t a doubt in wonbin’s mind that she was awake right now. if he were to text her this she would’ve replied back instantly. he figures it’s harder to hide the fact that there’s someone else in the room when you’re on the phone. 

regardless, wonbin holds the phone up to his ear as he waits for the automated voice. by the time he hears the tone to leave a voicemail he is leaning against the railing, head in his other hand as he closes his eyes. the summer night is comfortable, and the slow breeze cools wonbin’s face. he wishes it could take away his nerves, or that the words he needed to speak would be carried to him by the gentle wind. wonbin anxiously rocks on his feet and bites his fingernail. the lack of feedback on the other side of the line only makes him more timid.

“hey minju.” he said.

wonbin listened to the waves crash on the sand, and the sound of grass moving in the light breeze. his voice hesitated, and wonbin imagined the dark night he stared into as the void in minju’s voicemail box.

“i slept with a girl tonight,” wonbin takes his face from his hand to grip the railing. “that wasn’t you.” he added.

wonbin looked towards the beach, making out the white crest of the waves as they crashed down. he thought about you, how you pulled him in close before crying out his name. wonbin thought if it felt like that when minju slept with her ex, if she completely forgot about wonbin like he forgot about her. he wondered how minju could experience something so beautiful and then try to come back to him. 

the feeling of betrayal grew, starting at the soles of his feet up to his hair that blew in the wind. tears stored from his apartment blurred wonbin’s vision and when he blinked they rushed down his cheeks. 

“i don’t know how you could do that to me.” wonbin’s voice shook as he spoke.

he bit his lip and pulled the receiver away from his mouth as he tried to clear the rock in his throat. when wonbin felt like he had strength again, he brought his phone back to his lips.

“i was neglectful. you were right. i forgot what it was like to be in the moment with somebody.” he said.

wonbin looked down at his feet, then back towards the beach that minju hated so much. he looked back at you. you held your bike still on the side of the road. a car passed by, its headlights illuminated your worried smile. you put up a hand awkwardly, waving to him. wonbin waves at you, giving you a meek smile before turning back to look at the beach.

“i think it’s best if you stay at your friends for awhile.” wonbin says.

before he can say say sorry, the automated voice on the other side of the line tells wonbin his time is up. he keeps the phone to his ear for just a second longer before slipping it into his pocket.

when wonbin’s shoulders start to sag and the tears come freely, he can hear you coming down to him from the top of the hill. you bring yourself and your bike all the way down, until you are standing side by side. you let your bike lean on your body to free your hand. you pat wonbin’s back and grip his shoulders. it isn’t until he wipes away his tears that you speak.

“did she answer?” you ask quietly.

wonbin shakes his head.

“voicemail.” wonbin says simply.

“i’m sorry wonbin, truly.” you debated on giving him a hug, even with the bike in between your bodies. “atleast the sky is really pretty.” you say lightly.

wonbin looks up from his feet to the sky. the stars shine bright, not clouded by the pollution of the city. he doesn’t remember the last time he has looked at the sky, or shared something so beautiful with someone before. wonbin turns to you to see that your gaze hasn’t left the sky either. for the first time in his life he isn’t sorry, he stares at you unapologetically. 

wonbin finally turns away from the beach. he cranes his neck slightly, to kiss your wrist that comforts him. it’s a quick peck, a sign of gratitude both of you struggle not to dissect. instead wonbin holds out his hand for you to go in front of him as you make your way back of the hill. your bike gets caught on some of the weeds, and you almost stumble when a rock slips underneath your feet. wonbin knew to keep a hand behind you, making sure you remained steady the whole time.

one back on the road, you and wonbin silently got into place. the roles were reversed, this time it was you driving while wonbin perched himself on the bike peg. he helped you gain momentum by kicking off like he had done earlier, his foot immediately going to the peg.

you peddled in silence. wonbin started looking ahead at the open road, feeling the wind hit his face. wind whipped in his ears and tried the tears on his waterline as you went down a hill. wonbin let the scenery of his town at night pass him in a blur. wonbin tilted his head, from here it felt like he was getting closer and closer to the stars. his hands on your shoulders were light and your peddling was steady, arguably aimless. wonbin felt himself becoming more and more calm as you two continued to go down the road. he adjusted his feet on the metal pegs, and let out a deep sigh as the wind blew stress from his shoulders.

[a1yx111]

movie | p. wb

actor!wonbin x screenwriter!reader | 6.6k words

actor!riize strikes again.

contains: secret relationship, protected sex, public displays of affection

[instiz] PARK WONBIN HAS BEEN DISTRACTED LATELY?

I feel like we haven’t seen Park Wonbin as much lately on SNS. He is the type to give fans an update everyday, and he also has multiple sponsorships and brand deals. Celebrities manage their SNS for postings like that, so it’s odd he hasn’t posted in nearly a week. Is there something wrong with him?

He must be working on a new movie.

Maybe he’s too busy with his screenwriter girlfriend to post.

> The two are close friends, it’s freaking annoying you girls get on here and pretend they’re together.

>> He was seen yesterday at her house. That must mean something.

>>> She is working on a new movie. Maybe he’s in it.

Park Wonbin most likely doesn’t manage his SNS. Maybe his manager has nothing to post.

Maybe he has nothing to post besides lovestagrams.

> Ones his author girlfriend took.

>> Haha. Freaking hilarious

I miss seeing his face. Park Wonbin please post soon.

Wonbin knew that reading every single article with his name in the title was a bad idea. He had the terrible habit of wanting to know what other people were thinking of him at all times, even if the thoughts weren’t always good. 

His therapist compared it to picking a scab. The more you mess with it, the worse it gets and it never heals, something to that effect. Wonbin found it easier to banish the older man’s analogies when he was mid-session, but it was impossible to do so when he felt that familiar sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Things that even hinted at being negative always felt like a stab in the chest. Cheap jabs to his acting style and assumptions made about him based on the character he played always had him rolling his eyes to cover up the sense of indignation and pain that raised through him. No matter how much it bothered Wonbin he couldn't help it. He always picked at the scab no matter how painful it was, exposing himself time and time again to the unfiltered opinions of people on the internet. 

“Wonbin.”

His managers voice pulled him away from his phone. He instinctually cleared out the webpage from his recent apps before turning off the phone completely. His manager eyed him in the rearview mirror, like he already knew what he was looking at. They have had their fair share of conversations about how it was damaging and distracting to read about people’s thoughts of him online. But Wonbin was a creature of habit and curious like a cat with the Internet at his fingertips, what else could he do? 

“You really shouldn’t be reading that stuff.” Wonbin’s manager said.

Wonbin looked around the dark parking lot of the movie theater through the tinted glass of the van. The mall used to be packed and lively, even on a weeknight. Wonbin remembers long before the fame that this was the place to be. With Auntie Anne's and twenty dollars him and his friends would spend all day hopping from store to store. Now, because of online shopping there were tumbleweeds even during the weekends, even during the ridiculous sales.

The parking lot being completely empty on a Wednesday night was no surprise. Regardless, Wonbin considered it to be everyone else’s loss to miss the half-priced tickets and the quiet atmosphere of the abandoned mall.

Wonbin did a quick survey of the area. The occasional lamp post in the parking lot was the only light source this time of the night, but it was obvious the place was empty. The only car that wasn’t in the employee parking was the tinted Mercedes Benz in front of the entrance to the theater. Wonbin slid on his sunglasses and secured his hat on his head. He pushed his hair underneath the brim of his hat and brought his hood from his jacket to rest on top of it. The final touch was his black mask, he creased the metal band to form over his nose. 

“All good things.” Wonbin checked his appearance in the reflection of his window to make sure all of his distinguishable features were hidden. His manager huffed from the front seat the same time he pulled his sideburns from his hat. “Mostly good things.” He corrected.

Admittedly, the perception of him had changed for the better. Back when Wonbin first came onto the scene hate posts used to flood his timeline. He used to sit in his makeup chair and blink tears away, wondering why so many people hated him. 

Sometime around the press run for his second movie people’s opinion of him changed. A movie about the connected but not so connected stories of three sort of friends ended up becoming a modern day cult classic. There was award show buzz, Wonbin’s name was in the mill for upcoming projects. His performance in the movie that was a chaotic slice of human life changed the opinion of him overnight. He was the hated pretty boy with no range to an indie movie darling. He was praised for his pretty face and his commitment to acting and he actually had people defending him in troll posts now. 

“You should thank your director.” His manager said from the front sear.

Wonbin nodded and pressed the overhead button. The sliding door began opening with a slow start, and Wonbin looked to the driver seat as he grabbed his bag beside him.

“And screenwriter.” He added.

Wonbin couldn’t stop himself from smiling. His manager was burning holes in the side of his head as he turned to face the empty parking lot.

“Yes. The screenwriter, too.” His manager said tensely.

Despite the hesitancy, it was true. The movie wouldn’t have been possible without the cast and crew behind it, but the movie wouldn’t even exist if there wasn’t someone to write it. Before the red carpets and the interviews there was a well written character attached to a story that Wonbin felt immense pressure to execute perfectly. Without your vision and your words he wouldn’t be here, ignoring the warnings of his manager as he adjusting his coat on his shoulders.

Wonbin looked at the time on his phone and then to the entrance of the theater.

“I’ll call you when I’m done.” He said.

Wonbin could tell his manager wanted so bad to tell him to get back in the car. But Wonbin was unfortunately an adult. He understood where he was coming from, a place of worry and not wanting his client to endanger his image with the press. But he also had the smartest media team in the world, and he wasn’t reckless. 

For the most part.

“Thank you.” Wonbin said sincerely. 

When he went back into the van slightly his manager made eye contact with him. He nodded knowingly, muttering something about being careful before closing the sliding door and leaving the parking lot entirely. He watched the car drive away for a second. The paved parking lot with the faded lines was daunting with only him standing there. Underneath the lamp post it seemed like the paparazzi could be anywhere, huddled in the darkness with the safety of the bushes snapping pictures with their fancy cameras with gigantic lenses.

But no one was here. No one was here, but there was someone waiting inside. Wonbin shook off his nerves by bringing his coat in close to his body and began walking towards the entrance.

Wonbin went to the only door of the four that didn’t have a sign that read BROKEN attached to it. He never understood how doors could break, he also never understood how so many things in this mall seemed to be broken. Each time he came back it seemed to be in even worse condition. The arcade carpet that was most likely installed in the 90’s was frayed and bared holes from constant foot traffic. Half of the games in the arcade didn’t work. Street Fighter had been out of commission the longest. The joystick was missing and the screen had a crack that made the repeated animation flicker with static. Three more arcade games had a sign that read OUT OF ORDER since the last time Wonbin was here. Dance Dance Revolution was the saddest loss. He enjoyed playing that game while waiting for his manager to pick him up. The machines only served the purpose now to light the path from the arcade to the movie theater.

Wonbin walked silently across the carpet on the purple and pink fluorescent path. He passed by the three skeeball games, the one in the middle had a ball permanently stuck in the bullseye. He walked by the ticket game that had a white flashing sign begging him to play. He knew this rundown place too well. He knew that it hadn't change for the better in the past decade, that it was arguably the worst theater in town. Wonbin also knew that he had a connection to this place causing him to spend every Wednesday nights here.

Maybe when the money from his ambassadorships and movies roll in he’ll fix the place up. He’ll name the theater room after himself and put the picture of him getting ready to see the first movie he ever starred in framed outside. He had big plans for himself and this place, he would love to see it brought back to life if it isn’t already dead by then. 

What matters the most is that the movie theater is still almost completely functional. Yes the popcorn machine either burns the popcorn or leaves them as kernels, but Wonbin believes that is a user error more than anything. Yes they downsized from five screens to two, but that just means those remaining two are ran extremely well and are always clean. And Yes, they only accept cash because of course the card reader is always broken. But that gives Wonbin the excuse to give the workers more money than necessary and lets him not leave behind a digital paper trail from swiping his card.

The most important part is that the theater is still up and running and is now one of the only places you two can meet in private. 

He sees you before you see him, sitting with the popcorn bucket in your lap and movie tickets clutched in your hand as you squint your eyes to read the time on the analog clock. You pull down your mask to feed yourself popcorn just to grimace at the taste. You lather more of the seasoning and butter on top, Wonbin already knows you’re trying to drown the burnt taste with butter and flavored dust. 

You see him when you pull your mask back up to look around the area. Wonbin sees you shoot up so fast some popcorn falls to the floor. He can tell you’re smiling beneath the mask and he does too, so wide and happy it aches the apples of his cheeks. You two close the distance and Wonbin pulls your closer and tighter, until you let out an almost pained sigh and tap on his arm.

“You’re gonna crush me.” 

Wonbin pulled away from you then, letting some popcorn fall to the floor as you readjusted the hat on your head. Wonbin mirrored your movements, pulling his mask up his face and offering his hand to hold your popcorn.

For a moment you two stood on the worn carpet of the movie theater in silence. The sound of arcade machines could be heard from next door, the two employees behind the concession stand stared at you two for a moment before going back to their conversation. The silence made it hard to define whatever this was happening between the two of you. Hiding from the paparazzi and recognition behind masks and layers of clothes. Still pretending deep down you two were just colleagues who got along well. You two took the time to stare at eachother, knowing that in the public eye you two really couldn’t do more than spare eachother quick glances.

Then the moment passed. You smiled and held the tickets to Wonbin’s face, showing him which movie you two would be seeing tonight. He smiled as he read the name of the movie, and then his smile dropped when he realized what you two would be watching.

“This movie? Really?” Wonbin asked.

You nodded and turned, making it past the stand when the employee punched your ticket. Wonbin watched the worker focus on him for a second too long before pointing down the carpeted hallway.

“Theater on your left.” She said, still looking at Wonbin.

You kept walking, reaching behind you to wrap your arm around Wonbin’s. He was pulled off by you as you brought him closer, reaching across his body to grab popcorn.

“Usually we watch—“ Wonbin tries to think of the kindest way to say what he’s thinking of. He can’t think of anything, even when you hum to let him continue and you two stand in front of the open door of the theater. “More refined movies.” He says finally.

“A blockbuster cleanses the pallet.” You nudge him as you both look to the title card above the door. “Don’t be a snob, Bin.”

Even when Wonbin has more to say against this movie, he follows you inside once you go in. The theater is empty, just as it always is. You two ignore the assigned seating on the ticket and go to the middle of the theater. Wonbin watches you sit down first before he settles in. He waits until you take off your mask and cap before he does the same.

“Just thought we’d be seeing something about your next project is all.” Wonbin leans in close and whispers in your ear, even if it’s only the trailers and you two are in the theater alone. 

He thinks it’s a habit, one he doesn’t realize he has until you speak in a normal volume.

“Maybe I am doing a movie like this for my next project.” You point towards the screen that projects a high tension fight in the middle of a crowded area. "All the explosions and high profile actors."

You pick up more popcorn, the rapidly changing scenes of the trailer makes it hard for Wonbin to tell if you’re serious or not. A large explosion projects onto your face as you look down to grab your next piece of popcorn.

“Have you ever thought of working on a movie with a budget like this?” You asked.

Wonbin looked to the extravagant movie on the screen, the promise that next summer when it'd be released would be an entertaining one. He shrugged and leaned back in his seat. The cracks in the vinyl rub against his arm. The air conditioning unit broke last week, making the theater warmer than the hallway outside. Wonbin already could feel his clammy skin stick to the seat.

“I’ve considered it.” He said.

There was more money and exposure in the blockbusters his agents tried booking him for. But each time he entertained the thought of working on a bigger project he felt something pulling him back to the indie scene. He liked the stories that were being told with the smaller studios, he liked the intimacy of having a small cast and crew. Wonbin also found that he was becoming a better actor through smaller work. Chasing larger scale gratification fell short when he realized he was growing as an actor through the challenging indie movies. He had more to lose, he reached a point where he was no longer relying on his face but his talent as well. 

Maybe it was a bad idea to stick to the smaller movies. Wonbin knew that there were pros and cons to each side, but it was hard to see the negative in sitting at a table and recognizing everyone face. He enjoyed sitting at the table for script readings and the number of people fitting on his hands. He liked the that the Production Assistants weren’t afraid to call him by his first name and that they already knew what drinks and snacks he preferred. He liked the rapport he had with his production company and the feeling of going to the smallest conference room on the studios lot instead of the large rooms that had to have an OWL webcam while the director was God knows where filming for another movie.

He liked looking across the table and seeing you. Looking up to you locked in on the script, mouthing along the words that his future costars were reading from. 

“But I prefer smaller studios.” Wonbin said.

He couldn’t miss the smile you tried to hide behind another piece of popcorn.

Wonbin had to be a little biased. There was a rumor in the mill that he was impartial to any project you worked on. 

Calling it a rumor was also egregious, because there was evidence in the form of the rolling credits that appeared after every movie. When you were the screenwriter, Wonbin was somewhere in the cast. Leading man, deuteragonist, Tree Number Five. Wonbin was there somewhere. He didn’t think too much of it. Martin Scorsese had Robert De Niro, David Lynch had Laura Dern, and Mel Brooks had Gene Wilder. If Wes Anderson could have an entire bloodline on his retainer, then at the very least you could have him and he could have you. 

That’s what Wonbin repeated to himself as he mindlessly signed on for another one of your projects. That’s what he kept telling himself as he stole glances at you from across the table in between his lines, and when he gravitated towards you during lunch. 

That’s what he told himself as you two got closer and closer while the movie was showing. You lifted the armrest separating the two of you because you were respecting eachother as creatives. You leaned your head on his shoulder and he pulled your leg to drape over his because you two are colleagues for life. Your hands fit perfectly together as a testament to how well you worked as a team. When you reached across the seats to press your lips to Wonbin’s without even making it halfway through the movie, you were just two individuals respecting eachother’s vision.

After the movie was over and you two left the theater hand in hand, Wonbin looked across the parking lot to see his car. He didn’t want to let go, he didn’t want to leave you. The way you held onto his hand told him you felt the same. He looked back to you as the car came to life, the headlights turning bright as his manager started slowly making his way towards the two of you. 

Before Wonbin could take a step towards the car you pulled at his hand.

“I’m having trouble with a scene.” You said quickly.

Wonbin visibly perked up. He knew what was coming before you even said it. His relationship with you started on the basic understanding of one another. His personal relationship with you started with the same phrase.

I’m stuck on this part or I need someone’s opinion on this. A team filled with junior writers and script supervisors and you came to him. You were here for him now, extending the same invitation you had a million times before.

“Can you come over and help me with it?” You asked.

Wonbin looked past your tinted shades and he imagined your eyes wide and desperate. You still had a clutch on the sleeve of his bulky jacket, the fabric wrinkling underneath your fingers. The headlights of his car shined bright and in front of you two now.

He didn’t hesitate to say yes. Wonbin let you go gently just to jog to the drivers side window. He told his manager that he was going to go with you to discuss an upcoming project. He made sure to say it sweetly, and to ignore the knowing look on his managers face when he told him he’d be back before his obligations tomorrow. His manager watched you two leave the parking lot, jogging away and giggling like kids.

The ride to your place was spent in silence. Wonbin noticed that you took shortcuts, that you pressed your foot on the gas a little more than normally. Even though he knew what was coming he forced himself to be indifferent. He turned a blind eye to you tapping nervously on the wheel, and the way you froze underneath his hand when he put it on your thigh. He was the best at acting like he didn’t know what you were hinting at outside of the theater. The start of another scene between the two of you. Longing touches, minimal dialogue. The tension was there, something so palpable and obvious that Wonbin’s manager picked up on it in a second. But you were the two headstrong main characters, bent on pretending like you two were professional and in no way eager to take it forward.

But when you two made it to your apartment complex he didn’t hesitate to put a hand on the small of your back and let it drift down further. Neither of you bothered to check your surroundings, even if the paparazzi knew where you lived and knew what Wonbin looked like. You both were too locked in on the idea of working on this infamous and ever elusive script that was waiting behind your locked door.

The moment Wonbin turned the deadbolt lock your hands were on him. The scene came to an abrupt end when you started pushing and pulling at the sleeves of his jacket, the various zippers and buttons that kept you two apart. The tense music came to an end and it was just the sound of heavy breaths, things falling over, and clothes quickly being taken off.

There was no ceremonious undressing when you two got the chance to be alone. No hanging coats on the rack, no taking off hats and fluffing your hair out to make it look presentable. Between the two of you it was only piles of clothes and scratches made in a haste. Wonbin couldn’t take his own hat off but instead it fell to the floor when he turned his head to kiss you deeper. Your hat came off when Wonbin carded his hands through your hair to tilt your head upwards. 

“Writers block?” Wonbin spoke against the sheen on your lips.

You nodded pitifully, pushing his jacket off his arms before doing the same to yourself. A lewd comment about helping you was swallowed by your mouth. He’s distracted when you take off your shirt, throwing it on top of the pile of clothes you two make. Wonbin follows your lead and takes off his own shirt. He can see your wrecked appearance already, but his mind is blank when he feels your hands on his body, guiding him to your couch behind you.

Wonbin follows your guiding hands until he sits on the couch in just his boxers. You come to stand between his legs, your hand instantly settling on the top of his head while the other rubs his cheek. Wonbin closes his eyes contently and tips his head to the side so you can entangle your hand in his hair. His hands move to rest on your ass. He doesn’t pull or grab at you. He needs contact of his own as you massage his scalp gently.

“Your manager told me you mentioned me again in an interview.” You sighed.

Wonbin could hear you try to sound annoyed. You had every right to be, the two of you came to an agreement—where you told Wonbin and he listened—about mentioning eachother. You two had to remain professional in the public eye, you two could only touch in private, and no mentioning you without the interviewer bringing you up first. He knew you were right, he knew he agreed to your stipulations and he listened to them well. But sometimes in the heat of the moment rehearsed answers were forgotten and the only thing he could talk about was you.

“I talked more about your writing, rather than you.” Wonbin tilts his head more to the side when your fingernails feel too good scraping his scalp. “I was very straightforward.” He adds.

“Words get twisted all the time.” You say.

He knows that you’re trying so hard to get onto him for being reckless. He knows he deserves it too, he’s already had his fair share of articles misconstrued for clicks and traffic. But he couldn’t control the integrity of writers the same way you couldn’t control the way you pulled in a breath when he palmed your ass. 

Wonbin hummed an affirmation like it wouldn’t happen again before coming forward on your couch to leave a wet kiss on your lower stomach. 

“I thought we agree to not do that anymore, though.” You asked.

Wonbin only hummed in affirmation again. He wasted no time slipping his hand underneath the bottom of your underwear, grabbing a handful of your ass. He sighed against you the same time you tilted your head to the other side.

“I can’t help it.” Wonbin spoke in between kisses on your stomach and hips while his hands strained against the fabric of your panties. “I admire you alot.” He smiled.

“Don’t tell me that.” You said, pressing a hand to his shoulder. 

You put one of your knees on the couch beside Wonbin to lower your body closer to his. He still kept you up, he still kept his lips attached to your waist as he carelessly laved the area with his tongue.

“I really admire you alot.” He repeated.

When you closed your eyes and leaned your head back, Wonbin looked up at you. You looked so bothered, your head leaning to the side as you tried to get yourself under control. Wonbin knew that you had an affinity for being praised like him. Ironically though, unlike him, you were one of the least recognized people in the industry. Of course he mentioned you in interviews because of your involvement with him, but he was singing praises about your writing long before he had you like this for the first time. He was sure he’d still be name dropping you long into his career, even if whatever this was would end in flames. 

“I never want to stop talking about you.” He said truthfully.

The eye contact you held with him was burning. He didn’t realize the tension you two had built since the movie theater was so intense until he saw your gaze. He put his lips to your stomach again, sucking on your already wet skin as he maintained eye contact.

“Take your underwear off Wonbin.” You moaned.

Wonbin nodded before breaking away from your stomach. He saw the wet and angry mark he left as you pulled yourself from his lap. Your shirt and bra were discarded in seconds, and Wonbin matched your speed to take off the rest of his clothes. He was lifting his hips off the couch to pull his boxers down the same time you kicked your panties from your ankles. Wonbin’s dick shot straight up and rested against his stomach, the tip red and angry as it leaked on his abdomen. Wonbin took in all of you standing in front of him, naked and locked in on him in front of you. 

When Wonbin opened his arms for you, you were back on his lap in seconds. You two no longer pressed lingering and teasing kisses. Everything was about letting the other know how you felt. Wonbin kissed you so hard your head leaned back to accommodate him, and you sucked on his lip so hard Wonbin could tell it was swelling in your mouth. You no longer placed teasing touches on his dick. Your hand wrapped around it entirely, pumping and using his precum as lube. Wonbin lost in the battle of endurance. His head was leaned against your couch in an instant. Heavy breaths that sounded like whines left his lips as he bucked into your hand. You saw his Adam’s apple bob in his throat and you pressed your teeth to it, causing him to lose his breath and clench at your waist.

“Just like that.” He whined.

Wonbin was not strong enough to last like this. Your hand was too soft wrapped around his dick, you set the right speed and strength instantly. Wonbin had to shut his eyes and lick his lips to focus. He could already see the imminent future of him painting his stomach and your fist with sticky ropes of cum. 

“Are you gonna cum from just this again?” You asked.

He weakly shook his head even though he knew very well this was all up to you. The first time it was an accident, Wonbin lost his inhibitions after a few drinks from a staff dinner and came in the backseat of a cab during a heated makeout session and your hands in his pants. The second time it was on purpose. Wonbin wanted to show the place you had him in exactly. He came with little to no warning in the random bedroom of one of your colleagues, and you both had to clean up the mess with a toilet paper stolen from the bathroom. 

If it were to happen a third time—Wonbin absolutely can’t let it happen a third time. His cumming prematurely to cumming on time ratio was off, and if he were to do this right now on your couch with you mocking him, he could absolutely never come back from it. So he bites his lip to use the pain to distract himself from cumming on your manicured nails and his toned stomach. He feigns indifference by looking around hastily.

“Where are the condoms?” The words are pulled from the driest part of his throat. 

Wonbin’s words are met with a smile and an increase in the pace of your hand.

“You actually wanna fuck me this time?” You ask.

Just like that, Wonbin can no longer speak. He can feel his eyes become teary as he nods. He can’t even attempt to tease you back. He just presses his feet deeper into your floor and his hands grab at your waist tighter. He thinks you’re going to tease him over the edge. The lewd wet sounds get louder, the sounds he makes become more and more pathetic.

Right before Wonbin can embarrass himself, your hand stops. Wonbin’s body leans forward from the near release and his whole body seizes before he weakly relaxes against the couch. His breathing is rushed and racks through his entire chest. When he can open his eyes again he sees you looking down at him, condom in your wet hand.

“I have it right here baby.” You coo.

When you bring your hands back to Wonbin’s dick, he winces and instinctually clasps a hand over your wrist. You have to look back at him and quell his worries of you torturing him again with a quick kiss to his swollen lips. Wonbin still keeps a grip on one of your wrists and still winces from each touch on his sensitive body. 

The condom is snug on his dick when you lift yourself to your hips. Wonbin slowly comes to a better position underneath you, where you can lower yourself directly onto him. He holds himself at the base, pulling it away from his lower stomach to have it sticking straight up. Looking at the alignment makes him dizzy, but he can’t bring himself to look away. The way you brace yourself by holding onto his shoulders, the way you let your hips dip downwards so you can take him in one swift motion. He’s so on edge that he has to stop you the first time you sink down by a firm hand on your waist.

Wonbin makes eye contact with you the same time you shoot your head up from his lap. He revels in the look of desperation that’s on your face now, your big wet eyes are confused when his strength stops you from going any lower.

“Is this okay?” You ask.

Wonbin brings his other hand to swipe a thumb on the highest point of your cheek. He nods, and revels again at how surprised you are by his strength. He goes against the force of your body with just one single hand, and doesn’t even break a sweat while doing it.

“Just wanna look at you.” He says.

One of your hands that rest ed on his shoulders goes to his hair. You know exactly what you have to do to wind him up completely. You don’t bother massaging his scalp. You go straight to grasping the strands desperately, like you’re trying to soothe yourself more than soothe him.

“I just wanna ride you.” You say.

Who is he to deny you of your wants? Wonbin brings your heavy hips down, and his tip prods your entrance for a second before you take all of him in one motion. Down to the root of his dick. Your hips touch and your lips part. A terrible moan escapes Wonbin’s mouth and a gasp escapes yours. You two are equally wound up. You bring your chest close to Wonbin’s for a semblance of stability but his is no better. Your walls clench around him and he twitches helplessly inside of you. Your bodies react off of eachother, and for a moment he is too afraid to guide your hips up in fear of emptying into the condom. You already feel too weak to ride him. The situation would’ve cause you two to laugh if the situation didn’t feel so dire.

“No rush.” Wonbin says, mainly to himself.

“Take your time.” You echo into his neck.

When you finally have enough strength, You pull yourself away from Wonbin’s chest. The death grip he has on your waist lifts you upwards, and then you find the strength to lift your hips. Your knees dig into the cushion of your couch and you shiver at the feeling of Wonbin sliding out. When you feel his tip at your entrance he catches your eye again, and a look of prepare yourself crosses your face right before you sink down again. Wonbin moans again—almost as loud as the first time—until you’re sitting on him again. You two repeat the process, so slow Wonbin can feel every part of your soft walls and he’s sure you can feel every pulsing vein.

Wonbin brings you down on his dick three times before you start doing it yourself. You lift your hips on your own accord, and it is a sopping wet sensation between the two of you. Wonbin can barely form a coherent thought and you’re the same way. Wonbin watches drool coat your lips before a thin line begins making its way down your chin. The more spit that dribbles down your chin the faster your hips move. Before he knows it your chest is jumping right in front of his face, and the view of his dick disappearing inside of you takes up every part of his mind. 

“Touch me, Bin.” You say between your hips raising and lowering.

His hands gravitate towards your chest without another word. He takes you in each palm, pressed flat against your chest before he grips them entirely. Wonbin looks up to you for approval, and when he sees you bite your lip and nod he leans forward to clasp his mouth around your nipple.

Your hips lose their rhythm instantly. You focus everything on chasing stimulation from his tongue that flicks your nipples and the suction in his mouth. When you preen your chest further into him Wonbin wraps his free hand around your waist and lifts you himself. He brings you down harder on his dick than you were, the light taps of your hips turn into prominent smacks. The force makes Wonbin sink deeper into the couch, and he can hear the things on the side tables shake. Seeing you unaffected by everything makes Wonbin indifferent too. He just lets his teeth graze your sensitive skin and uses all of his strength to make you ride him. 

Together, your lack of stamina and his lack in endurance is a match made in heaven. You’re already weak when Wonbin moves to your other breast. You have settled into him all the way, your hand that was on his shoulder for stabilization digs into his skin from being impaled on his dick over and over again. Hearing you, someone who is so well spoken, turn into a babbling mess makes Wonbin feel the edge creep up on him again. He rolls your nipple between his fingers just to hear your pathetic squeak, and he brings you down hard on his dick again just to hear the moan rip from your throat again.

“I really, really admire you.” Wonbin says. 

Even though he can form sentences, saying he’s stable would be a lie. His tone is high-pitched and whiny, his words are cut short each time you clench around him. Wonbin speaks exactly how he feels, on the verge of breaking at the sight of you becoming undone. When you try to hard to focus your bleary eyes on him he’s already done.

“Gonna—“ Wonbin feels you regain some of your strength back. You lift your hips and bring it down on him weakly. “Gonna cum.” You muster.

Wonbin lets you take back as much control as you can handle. He gets to chase after that feeling he was denied by rutting his hips upwards into yours. Between your weak hips and Wonbin’s quick thrusts, you two lost whatever rhythm you had previously set. Now it was you two chancing the same thing, but using a different method to get it. Wonbin purposely unlatched with an obnoxious sound, letting the excess spit glisten on your chest. He saw another blossoming mark in his wake, and smiled again. He dragged his hand down your sweaty body and settled on your clit, pressing deep with his thumb to watch your body twitch and still.

“Keep going.” Wonbin said, fucking up into you more for emphasis. “Almost there.” He whimpered.

You nodded and found more strength, planting your feet on the cushions for more leverage. Wonbin knew you wouldn’t last long in this position. He had less than a minute before your thighs would be burning and screaming at you to stop. So he naturally made quick work of himself and you, speeding up his fingers and pinching at your body the way you liked. The wet mess between the two of you glistened on his lap, sweat from Wonbin’s body was getting on the covering of your couch. Neither of you cared about the messes or the noises, Wonbin in fact saw the absence of everything in your mind besides getting off. 

When you stilled on top of Wonbin and he felt your walls clench around his he spilled into his condom immediately. He leaned fully against the back of the couch and you followed shortly after him, your sweaty chest pressed against his as you two selfishly rode out your orgasms. You breathed heavily and went back to planting your knees to the couch, and Wonbin’s hips stuttered again before stilling completely. He was out of breath and a mess, practically glued to you as he held you impossibly close.

Wonbin had to wait for his strength to come back before he could lift you off of his dick. The loss of warmth caused you both to whine, and he watched his dick limp pathetically on his abdomen as he leaked from the bottom of the condom. The slimy messy sight should’ve made him cringe, but instead he felt that familiar churn in his stomach again.

“You came so much.” You whispered.

He loved making a mess too much. Your words made his limp dick twitch as he carefully took the slippery condom off. Wonbin let the slimy mess rest on his lower stomach, and then you pinched it between his fingers. The mess shined in the dim light of your living room lamp. You guided yourself off of his lap with a whine from your stiff joints as Wonbin walked to your bathroom.

After Wonbin discarded the condom in the trashcan, he washed himself off in the sink before grabbing an unused washcloth. He wet it with warm water and wrung it out, leaving the bathroom to come back to you.

You were laying down on the couch with only your shirt as Wonbin came back to you. He sat on the couch and you draped your legs over his. Wonbin took the warm rag to your skin, and you mindlessly went to your phone.

For a moment, everything was peaceful. He was wiping you down and running his fingers over the marks he left on your skin when you sat up suddenly on the couch. Wonbin no longer felt comforted in the silence as he looked at your wide eyes locked into your screen. He saw your eyes go over the same thing a million times. His mouth was too dry to ask you what you were looking at. He waited until you silently turned your phone around to show him.

[instiz] PARK WONBIN COMPILATION OF ENTERING HIS GIRLFRIEND’S APARTMENT

Actor Park Wonbin has been seen exiting and entering the apartment of a colleague he’s worked closely with. Each time he is alone, and each time he is coming and going at odd hours of the night.

That hand placement is no joke.

Here I was, defending their friendship saying they were close colleagues.

> Oh, they seem to be close

>> I’m going crazy

My friend works at a theater close to her house. She’s said they’ve come in alot on Wednesday’s.

> Proof?

This explains alot.

[a1yx111]

i gasped this is so well written it made my heart feel all mushy 😭

Teen Hearts Beating Faster, Faster

pairing: virgin!wonbin x fem!reader

warning: jealous!bin :], jealous!bin confessing his feelings :D, smut, protected sex, premature ejaculation, aftercare, brief mention of food (not sexual)

wc: 3.7k

a/n: love u wonnie also the ryan in the fic is ryan ross hehehe I've been obsessively rewatching live in denver and I gotta write abt my bbygirl

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Wonbin had a decent amount of patience.

He had the patience for when professors scolded him for the work they misgraded. Even after tests were graded wrong, he sat back and waited for them to realize the mistake. Sighing in relief as they changed his grade, knowing he was the correct one.

He had patience for long hours at their dance studio. When choreographers continuously scolded them and yelled even as their bodies grew tired and were close to dropping. When he would force his lips shut as he heard the same droning words being shouted at him and his teammates.

Even among his friends, Wonbin was patient. Waiting for them to cool down, realizing they were both loud and wrong in the argument. Realizing the solution, he let it slide, as they looked at him in remorse. Not wanting to make another show of something, Wonbin let it slide as they continued doing whatever started the argument.

Something he didn't have patience for was that stupid guy, Ryan.

Ryan, some lame guitarist from a band y/n's become obsessed with. It seemed that was all she could talk about. The second he heard that name, Wonbin scowled.

Ryan's playing here, Ryan's sent me some demos, Ryan's sent me tickets to see them here or there. Ryan this, Ryan that.

Wonbin didn't even hate the guy. He was a decent musician; he played guitar well, even better than what Wonbin could play. But something boiled in him when you mentioned his name.

He couldn't even be jealous, Ryan had a girlfriend and he knew you would never do that. You were friends with his girlfriend, knowing each other even before Ryan dated her. But the idea of someone occupying y/n's thoughts more than her own friend, Wonbin, upset him beyond relief.

Was it because he's older? In a band? Was is the sweaty guy pheromones getting to y/n? Was that why she's so obsessed with Ryan?

But Wonbin bit his tongue and stayed quiet. He always did, never wanting to upset you even when you laughed and assured him you had no obsession or feelings or Ryan.

And even now, watching them play their set in some vacant building, Wonbin felt his jealousy grow. The way your eyes lit up when Ryan sang adlibs. The way you clapped and cheered when they finished a song. When you sang along to the same adlibs and backing vocals as Ryan. That especially made him upset.

Wonbin stayed still, armed crosses with a slight frown as he tried to enjoy their concert. Only some time left, then he'll be out of the temple of Ryan.

When their set was done, Wonbin and you walked out. Walking around to see if there was any restaurant or diner to grab something to eat before going home. When you finally made your way to Wonbin's car to drive home, you could sense something was up.

There was tension in the air, something being unsaid but desperately needed to be discussed. His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, his arms flexed more, his face was unusually tight.

"You seem upset." Your voice was soft, not wanting to upset Wonbin.

"I'm not upset, why would I be upset?" He said, a little too fast to be convincible.

"You've been like this a couple of times. I just, I just wanna know whats going on? If you're okay?"

Your eyes were soft while your brows felt furrowed, something was really bothering him and knowing Wonbin, he'd rather bite his tongue than bring anything up.

Wonbin took a deep breath in, collecting his thoughts. The air was tense, it was hard to breathe, the pressure building every second longer he took to speak.

"I'm jealous of Ryan." It felt like Wonbin's head was gonna implode.

"Of Ryan?" You repeated.

"Yes of Ryan." He says, a little harsher than he wanted. "He's cool, he's all you ever talk about-"

"All I ever talk about? Wonbin, what do you mean?"

He turns slightly, cheeks flushed as he looks at you.

"It's almost like every time we meet up there's something new about Ryan. I know he's your friend but so am I."

You carefully nodded your head.

"I'm just." He sighs, "I feel myself becoming obsessed with you, or something."

Oh?

You sat in silence, mouth agape.

"And always hearing about that Ryan guy just pisses me off. I know he's older and more experience and cooler than me, but-"

"He's not." You laughed.

Wonbin stared at you. His eyes were wide, hair disheveled as he tried calming himself down to listen to you.

"I'm sorry I upset you." You made sure to keep eye contact. "Genuinely. But he's not that cool. He's kind of a dick to his fans, he often isolates himself when he's overwhelmed. He doesn't have a great temper."

"He does?" Wonbin leans a little closer to You, amused smile on his face.

"He's a cool guy to hang around because I like his band and I can get cheap tickets from him. But there's nothing more than that."

You grabbed his hand.

"I'm sorry I put you through hell. I wouldn't have done all that if I'd have known how you felt. I'm sorry."

"Can I kiss you?" He blurts out.

You blinked for a moment, you went lightheaded for a second before leaning in to give Wonbin a chaste peck on his lips. His face flushed even harder than earlier, he was sure you could feel the warmth radiating from him. Detaching from each other, Wonbin let out a whine.

Hearing him, you moved to the side of his face and pressed a kiss the corner of his mouth.

"I've never kissed someone before." He confessed.

"Really?" You asked, your voice was more curious than it could be teasing or taunting.

"Can we kiss more?" His eyes were shiny, scared you'd say no to him.

"Can we go somewhere more comfortable?" You asked.

"Y-yes, of course."

Wonbin turned the car on with fumbling hands, reversing and making their way to your apartment. The drive and walk up was agonizing. Every light turned red, every crosswalk had people walking, even the parking garage at her complex was filled.

Walking and standing in the elevator was torturous. Wonbin kept his hands on you, be it your arm or hand, to ensure this was real and not some dream.

Walking into your home, you latched onto each other. Your hands went straight to his neck, holding his still as your deepened their kiss. His hands nervously held onto your back before dropping to your waist.

You backed him to the couch, dropping down as he carefully hovered over you. His eyes nervously looked around your body.

"Do you wanna touch me?" You asked Wonbin.

"Yes." He barely spoke above a whisper, round eyes staring at you.

"Where?" You pressed.

He looked over you, every spot his eyes landed lasted around a second before he found another spot he wanted to touch.

Grabbing his hand, "I would like it if you touched here."

You guided his hand to your breast. Wonbin's breath hitched as he laid his hand onto you, scooting a hair closer.

"Don't be shy, come here." You egged him on.

He followed orders, moving closer. His hand stayed on your breast as he moved his other hand to your shoulder.

"Can I- uhm."

"You can do whatever, Bin."

He looked at her, seeing the assurance in your eyes, before moving his hands to massage your breasts. Thumbs swiping and moving into the fabrics of your shirt and bra.

"Do you wanna take it off?" You asked. "I know wanna take your shirt off."

"Can I?" He asked.

"Of course."

He grabbed at the bottom hem of his shirt, sliding it off of his body before moving to your shirt. His eyes widened with every inch of skin exposing. You leaned back into the couch as he pulled your shirt off, letting him eye you as you sunk down.

"Do you wanna move this somewhere else? Before we get into more?"

"Can we? I mean, yes. I-I would like that." His nervousness was cute.

You grabbed his hand, leading Wonbin to your bedroom. The lights were dim, your nightstand's lamp lighting the room in soft yellow lighting. Wonbin looked around, shocked at how similar yet different your room looked. Walking him towards your bed, Wonbin moved his hand to your shoulder, thumb playing with your bra strap.

"Can you take it off?" She asked him.

"How?"

"Here." You grabbed his hand.

Moving his hand to wrap around your backside. Holding onto his pointer finger and thumb, you helps him pinch the clasps. Your bra fell down, one strap falling down your shoulder to expose your breast as Wonbin stared down at the newly exposed skin.

You threw your bra to the side as he stared at your breasts. His hands shook as you grabbed them, pulling them upwards to cover your soft, warm skin. He carefully squeezed them, not wanting to hurt you. Thumbs rolling along your nipples, his eyes shot up at you when you let out a low sigh.

"Did that feel good?" He asked, leaning closer to you.

"Very." you closed your eyes.

He continued kneading your breasts, seeing what made you moan and sigh and what led to no reaction. Continuing to roll his thumbs along your nipples, growing the confidence to flick them and drink up the sighs you let out.

"Can we kiss again?" You asked. "You have really soft lips."

"Y-yeah."

He leaned over, lips softly merging before you kissed him again. His hands wrapped around your waist as you kissed, your tongue licking his bottom lip. Opening his mouth, he tasted your tongue as it swiped along his.

Wonbin let out a low moan. The feeling of your skin, your tongue, your lips, it's all so much. He slid his hands down to your ass, feeling himself fall against your bed as you climbed on top of him.

Your core sat right on top of his bulge, hips unintentionally grinding against him as he let out a strained groan.

"I'm sorry." You said, cheeks flushed.

"It's okay."

He breathed, thinking of what to do.

"Can you, mm, teach me something?" He asked shyly.

"What?"

"I wanna eat you out. I've just, never, uhm."

You felt your core grow wetter. His flushed cheeks, eyes looking anywhere but you. You wanted to savor this moment, this vulnerability from him.

"Where do you want me?" You asked, voice full of desire.

"Huh?" He said, unsure of what you mean.

"Should I sit on your face? Or do you want me laying down? Should we, like, 69?"

Wonbin flushed at your words.

"Uhm. Maybe you, uh, laying down."

You nodded, removing your pants before moving to lay down. Your knees were decently far apart, wanting Wonbin to move them to see your panties as he would lean into your pussy.

He looked around nervously, "Can you, you know, tell me how to, um."

"Do you want to lay on the bed or kneel on the floor?"

"Maybe the floor." He dropped onto the floor, settling along the edge.

You scooted to the edge of the bed, knees spread to each side of Wonbin's wide shoulders. His wide, shiny eyes stared at the wet spot on your underwear, his hands resting on your knees.

You leaned back, hands grabbing his leading them to your waistband. He caught on to pull them down, dragging them off down your legs before tossing them to the side. He leaned in to your pussy, seeing how wet it was.

He gently brought his hand to your core, cupping your vulva and feeling how much slick was dripping out of you. Gasping, you felt how warm his hand was against you.

"I thought you were eating me out." You whined.

Wonbin chuckled before leaning in, stretching your thighs to allow his head in. He let your thighs rest on his shoulders, something he's sure he's seen in a porno or two.

He gave a small lick, hearing your breathing hitch. His tongue was sharp and pointed, like he catching as much of your precum as he could gather. Taking another lick, he tasted the depth of your cum. The slight saltiness and overwhelming sweet taste.

He couldn't quite tell what you tasted like, having nothing similar to your cum, ever. His cum was far saltier, musky, even. But this was different. Were all girls like this or just you?

You were enjoying this feeling, his hot tongue licking at every inch of your pussy as you laid there panting. You felt your hand inch towards him, grabbing onto his head to steady yourself.

He continued licking at you, getting drunk on the taste of your honey. Flattening his tongue as he lapped at you, unknowingly teasing your clit with a lack of stimulation.

"Binnie, please." You whined.

He lifted his head, slick dripping down his mouth, "What's wrong?"

"Lick my clit more. I'm going insane, Bin." Your head popped up to look at him.

You felt a wave of slick pour out of you when you looked down at him. Eyes blown out, mouth glistening with your cum, his hot breaths teasing your pussy.

"Up here?" A string of your arousal clung to his lips as his eyes shot to your clit before bringing his hand up to flick at it.

"Yes!" You gasped, thighs clenching together as you fell back onto the mattress.

Wonbin smiled as he went back in to eat you. Tongue stiffening to prod at your clit before slurping up the wetness dripping out of you. Every move he did he saw you twitch and squirm.

"Wait, fuck, yes! Right there, right there."

His confidence kept growing seeing you fall apart from him. Your back continuing to arch off of the bed, Wonbin continued licking at you, nose bumping into your clit as he felt you stiffen. A long drawn out moan escaping your lips as your pussy dripped your cum onto his tongue.

Pulling away, Wonbin looks up at you. Ragged breaths as you're still gripping the bedsheets. Your legs, still folded, are shaking as he rubs your thighs in an attempt to comfort and relax you.

"I thought you said you were a virgin."

"I am." He says shyly.

"You're either a liar or are too good at following directions." You laughed.

You laid there until your breath steadied. Wonbin crawled up the bed, sitting beside you. You were overwhelmed with how hard that orgasm felt, no man's been that good at eating pussy. Wonbin watched your breathing, how much air was sucked into your ribcage, the sheen of sweat along your breasts, how hard your nipples became as the air cooled.

Leaning up on your elbow, "Do you want me to help you with that?"

Y/n stared at his tight bulge.

"Can we have sex?" His eyes were wide, scared you'd say no.

"Yeah, of course we can."

His shoulders relaxed. Taking his pants and boxers off, Wonbin felt a little exposed. He's never been naked in front of anyone, looking over you're not even paying attention to his body. You're looking at his face, his cheeks? Somewhere, studying his reactions, maybe.

You lean over to your nightstand, opening the drawer to take out a loose condom, tossing it to Wonbin you ask if he knows how to put one on.

"No."

"Come here." You wave his over.

Wonbin crawls towards you, his hard dick standing tall as you begin to unwrap the foil.

"This might feel a little weird." You warn.

You roll the condom down his length, the cold lube made Wonbin hiss. Fully covered, you grab onto the tip and pull it upwards, suctioning it onto him.

"What position would you like?"

"Can you ride me?"

You blinked, surprised at his request.

"Sure, get comfortable." You motion to your bed.

"I'm sorry, I should be-"

"No way, this is your first time, I gotta treat my baby right."

Wonbin felt his heart skip when you called him her baby. He moved to lay down, you pushed some pillows together to give him better cushioning as well as a better new.

You straddled his lap before teasing his tip along your folds, Wonbin's hands grabbed at your hips, rubbing and squeezing the flesh as you got into position.

Slowly dropping down onto him, Wonbin began squeezing you, a soft moan escaping him as his eyes were glued to your pussy. He was amazed at how you felt: soft, tight walls clinging around him as you sank lower and lower. He didn't know how deep your womb could get but he was an almost perfect fit.

Your walls clung around him as you sunk lower. Dropping into his lap, you saw Wonbin wide-eyed and panting.

"Are you okay?" You leaned in, worried about him.

"You're so fucking tight."

You smiled, leaning in to kiss his forehead. He craned his head to kiss your lips, sitting up more to continue kissing you.

"Can I move?" You asked, mouth moving to his cheek and jawbone.

"Yeah." He was breathless.

You left a wet kiss onto his jugular as you lifted yourself and pushed back down.

"Shit." He moaned, grabbing your hair to kiss you. His wet tongue began licking the inside of your mouth.

Bouncing more, his grip tightened as he let out a slew of moans. You felt different, there was something insatiable about being on top of Wonbin. Not just that you two were friends, but he was falling apart so soon.

"Wait, fuck, slow down." He begged.

As you were going to plant yourself down, Wonbin's face tightened. He let out a strangled moan, teeth biting his lip to stop himself. Looking at your face, his eyes became teary as his breathing became ragged.

"Fuck."

"I'm so sorry." You said.

"You're," He breathed, "you're fine, it's me who-"

You pulled off of him, gaining a strained groan from Wonbin.

He looked over to this side, "This is embarrassing."

"It happens to everyone."

"Everyone?"

"Mostly guys, but you can't help that."

Wonbin took the condom off, tying it and tossing it in your trash bin.

"Can i still make you cum?" He looked at you shyly.

"Do you wanna?"

"Yeah."

"Sure, you can finger me. How do you want me?"

Wonbin sat up on his knees, wondering where they could move.

"Can I finger you, like, doggy style?" He asked shyly.

Oh?

"Yeah." Your cheeks felt warm hearing such a lewd answer.

You tucked some pillows under you as you bent onto them, ass on display for Wonbin. You felt a shiver run down your body as his hands rubbed your hip, something exciting about not knowing his next move. His hand swiped down to your ass.

He was fascinated with your body, seeing what parts were plump and fleshy and which ones weren't. His hands stroked along your ass, thumb prodding at your core to feel how wet you were. Wonbin noticed the arousal dripping down your thigh as he carefully pushed his pointer finger in.

"Mmm." You moaned.

Wonbin continued thrusting his finger in and out, feeling around your walls as he moved. Your legs began shaking a little, the sense deprivation was really getting to you.

As Wonbin inserted another finger, his free hand snuck by your hip to rub your clit, feeling the erect nub as he stimulated you.

"Wonbin, ahh." You moaned. "Mmm, can you go harder?"

"Harder?"

"Please."

He began pumping his fingers in and out, carefully tapping your clit as he fingered you.

"Fuck you're making my dick hard again."

"Put it in." You moaned.

Wonbin tore his hands away, quickly getting into your drawer to grab another condom. He tried remembering what you showed him as he tore the foil and rolled it on. He remembered how your hands looked at he pulled the tip lightly, suctioning it on.

Standing on his knees, he aligned himself with your core, take a breath as he was still sensitive from earlier.

Pushing in, he felt his hips begin bucking in and out.

Aligned at her core, Wonbin inserted himself. Still so sensitive from his orgasm earlier.

"Fuck, you're even tighter."

"Rub my clit, Binnie."

He followed orders and messily rubbed your clit, heryourwalls beginning to clench even tighter around him. His hips thrusting harshly into you, so much he almost slipped out.

"Yes, yes, fuck! Wonbin!"

His hips continued thrusting as he felt you tighten around him with a loud moan. The sensation was too much as he felt himself cum in the condom. His large hands wrapped around your hips tightly as emptied himself.

He could barely pull himself out, the feeling so painful and pleasureful. Carefully, after some breaths, Wonbin pulled out, pulling the condom off before dumping it into your trash can, again.

He felt his body collapse next to you as you were adjusting to lay on your back.

"So." You were still panting. "Was that a good first time?" You had a wide smile, looking over at Wonbin.

"Yeah, it was memorable, at the least."

You laughed, turning on your side to look at him.

"Did you want me to help clean you up?" She asked, grabbing his hand.

"Not now, I wanna relax for a moment."

"Yeah." You said, grabbing at one of your blankets to cover him.

"Thank you," He said, "your apartment is really cold."

"This is not the pillow talk I was expecting, Bin."

He laughed, scooting closer to keep warm. Laying together, they mostly held each other while only talking sparingly.

"Here." You said, leaning over to your nightstand.

You opened your drawer to take out a baby wipe.

"Baby wipes?"

"For clean up." You defended yourself.

"You clean up with baby wipes?"

"You're expected me to hand you some rough wash cloth as a cum rag? No, they're great for cleaning up after sex."

You helped him clean himself, wiping some dried cum off of his face, grabbing another for his dick.

"Too cold!" He yelped.

"You're being a baby." You laughed.

[a1yx111]

I just giggled and kicked my feet

𖠵 . ׅ ࣪ ⌇𝐵𝒜𝐵𝑌, 𝐼’𝑀 𝒜 𝑅𝑂𝐶𝐾𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑅 ⋆˙.ᐟ

࿐ 𝜗𝜚 𝓇ockstar 𝒷f! 𝓅ark 𝓌onbin x 𝑓! reader 𝒢enre fluff 𝓢ynopsis in which your jealous of all the attention your boyfriend is getting ! 𝑤𝑐 𐙚ㅤㅤ 1200 ⸝⸝ not proof read jelly yn!! ୭ৎ first riize fic for my rockstar bf!! ≧ᗜ≦ — 𝓁ibrar𝓎 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

THE SOUND OF ELECTRIC GUITARS, DRUMS, AND THE ENERGY OF THE CROWD FILLED THE DIMLY LIT BAR AS YOU WATCHED YOUR BOYFRIEND WONBIN FROM YOUR SPOT NEAR THE STAGE.

he's in his element, fingers moving effortlessly over the strings of his guitar, each note making its way through the room.

his hair fell perfectly over his forehead, and the intensity in his eyes as he played sent a thrill through your heart.

you’ve always admired how confident he is on stage, the way he commands attention without even trying.

there’s a certain allure to him when he’s performing—this undeniable “rockstar” energy that makes everyone in the room gravitate toward him.

and tonight is no different.

the band’s set is halfway through when you notice her—a girl at the edge of the stage, her gaze locked on wonbin. — more under cut !

at first, you brush it off. after all, it’s not uncommon at all for people to be drawn to him during performances.

but as the night went on, it became harder and harder to ignore.

she’s stood closer now, leaning against the stage with an almost possessive, wanting air.

every time wonbin glances in her direction, she lit up, a flirtatious smile making its way onto her lips.

your heart sinks as jealousy begins to gnaw at you.

you know that wonbin loves you, that he’s never given you any reason to doubt his feelings.

but seeing this girl blatantly trying to capture his attention, even though she must know that you’re his girlfriend, due to the way his guitar had your name on display for everyone made your blood boil.

you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to push down the disease called insecurity brewing in you.

wonbin catches your eye as the band finishes their current song, and his brow furrows slightly when he sees the stiff tension in your posture.

usually, his sets were a place where you would let loose and relax, you’ve always loved when wonbin played for you, after all.

he’s always known your emotions even better than you, able to read you like a book even from a distance.

but before he can do anything, the girl steps forward, her voice carrying over the noise of the bar as she calls his name.

“wonbin! you were amazing!” she gushes, leaning in closer than necessary.

you feel your stomach twist as she practically throws herself at him, her hand brushing against his arm as she tries to engage him in conversation.

wonbin, being the polite man he is, nods and thanks her, but you can see the shift in his demeanor.

there’s a subtle stiffness to his posture, a flicker of annoyance in his usual soft eyes.

you looked away, not wanting to watch any more of their interaction. you hate feeling this way—jealous, insecure.

it’s not who you are, and it’s definitely not how you want to be.

but tonight, it’s hard to shake the feeling that maybe you’re not enough and never will be for wonbin, that maybe one day he’ll realize there’s someone better than you out there.

wonbin finishes up with the girl quickly, his responses short and rushed but still polite.

he finally makes his way over to you, and the moment he’s close enough, he reaches out to take your hand, lacing his fingers with yours with a soft smile.

the warmth of his touch is reassuring, but you can’t quite meet his gaze.

“hey,” he murmurs, his voice gentle and concerned.

“what’s going on? you seem upset, did you not like the set?”

you force a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“it’s nothing,” you lie, trying to brush him off.

“the set was amazing as usual, im just feeling a little tired..”

wonbin wasn’t convinced, he knows you too well. he gently tugs you closer, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

his dark eyes search yours, and when he speaks again, his voice is firmer, more insistent.

“tell me what’s wrong, baby..”

the concern in his voice breaks down the walls you’ve been trying to build, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“that girl… she was all over you. and she knows we’re together, wonbin. it just… it made me feel like…”

“like what?” he asks gently when you hesitate.

“like maybe i’m not good enough,” you finally admit, your voice a whisper.

“i know it’s silly, but…”

“it’s not silly,” wonbin interrupts, his tone serious.

“but i need you to know something, okay?”

he leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours as he speaks.

“you are more than enough for me. no one else even comes close. that girl means nothing to me, and she never will. you’re the only one i see, the only one i want.”

his words are like a cure to your wounded heart, soothing the ache that had been building all night.

you close your eyes, letting his reassurances sink in. when you open them again, he’s watching you with such adoration that it takes your breath away.

“don’t ever doubt how much i love you,” he continues, his voice filled with emotion.

“i’ll tell her to back off if that’s what you want. i’ll make sure she knows exactly where i stand.”

you shake your head, feeling a little embarrassed now that you’ve voiced your insecurities.

“you don’t have to do that. i trust you, wonbin. i just… i needed to hear it from you.”

he smiles then, that sweet, boyish grin that makes your heart skip a beat.

“i’m glad you told me. and just so you know…”

he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, lingering just long enough to make your head spin.

“i’m crazy about you, and i’m not afraid to show it.”

as if to prove his point, wonbin wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

he kisses you again, this time deeper, more passionate, as if he’s trying to erase any lingering doubts you might have had.

when he finally pulls away, you’re both breathless, and the noise of the chaotic bar fades into the background.

“i love you,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear as he held you close.

“i love you too,” you reply, the words coming easily now that the weight of your jealousy has lifted.

wonbin keeps you by his side for the rest of the night, his arm never leaving your waist.

he’s more affectionate than usual, kissing your temple, whispering sweet things into your ear, and making sure you know just how much you meant to him.

and every time the girl glanced your way, wonbin tightened his hold on you, making it clear to everyone in the room that you’re the only one he wants.

by the end of the night, the insecurity that had gnawed at you earlier had disappeared from your memories, as if it were never there.

all that’s left is the warmth of wonbin’s love, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

you realize then that you never had anything to worry about because with him, you’ll always be enough.

© won4kiss 2024

𝒯aglist open ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @greentulip @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @pockyyasii @iluvnikism @karinaswifey @niawonn

[a1yx111]

Oh. My.

selfish (m.)

𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹

about— wonbin’s a musical prodigy, having worked alongside critically acclaimed producers, and now he’s your guest lecturer for the semester. correction, your hot lecturer for the semester (producer!wonbin x f.reader)

author’s note— this is a little rough but i still like the way it turned out! title is from this song if anyone's curious hehe i think it's wonbin coded lowkey

warning— language, teacher-student dynamic, me blatantly lying about new york/nyu, alcohol use, (soft?) dirty talk, fingering (f. receiving), whiny wonbin, oral (m. receiving), teasing, penetrative sex (with a condom!!) 18+ MDNI!!!

word count— 5.3k

Thursdays and Fridays from four to six, those were his office hours. It was difficult to have office hours that fit everyone’s schedule and that was the best he could do given he was only a guest lecturer. Even worse, he wasn’t given an office for said hours due to the deconstructed nature of the city. Going to university in New York was already far from traditional, and the conditions were no exception. But Wonbin didn’t mind, reserving a nice table on the second floor of Gregory's coffee on Broadway. It wasn't much but it was enough for the four or five students who took advantage of the time.

You were one of them. You knew all too well the struggle of falling behind in a class by thinking you had a handle on the material, only to be drowning in confusion come midterms. The class, The Sociology of Pop Music, interested you too much for you to risk completely flopping just because you failed to utilize your resources. But it wasn’t just your grade that you cared about. It helped that the guest lecturer in question was unbelievably sexy, an absolute dreamboat wunderkind who was just barely older than the students he was in charge of. 

Park Wonbin, musician to the stars. He’d worked with countless acclaimed producers, written for most of the Billboard Hot 100 artists, and even put out his own flawless body of work that gifted him one Grammy and several nominations. He was an absolute icon at the ripe age of twenty-two and you were dying to sink your claws into him. Soft and athletic, inky black waves, a bashful smile and a voice that the heavens surely blessed him with. His presence was more distracting than conducive for your precious six-figure education, your thighs clenching together every Tuesday and Thursday that he took his place at the professor’s podium.

But you weren't the only one. Nearly everyone in the class was crushing on him, eyes batting as they asked elementary questions and giggles erupting at even his worst attempts at jokes. You felt like a dime a dozen lusting after him, gnawing your lower lip at the way his back muscles flexed when he turned to write something on the board. Get a grip, you’d think to yourself. You’re fighting for a slot on a list of many. 

So you amused yourself with your self-labeled delusion, daydreaming about him outside of class and showing up to his office hours to clear up even the smallest of questions about the week’s lectures. He was careful with every word, taking his time to cultivate thorough responses to any and all questions you thought up for him, even ones that stemmed outside of the class's margins. 

You still remember the first time you saw him, your jaw nearly dropping to the floor as he entered the lecture hall like any other student. Except he headed straight for the front of the room, placing his bag down at a table near the podium where the staff chaperone was setting up. He picked up the small expo marker that sat on the table, taking off the cap to write wonbin on the white board in messy penmanship before he followed it up with a squiggly smiley face. You knew who he was, his name notorious in the music wing of your school considering what he’d accomplished at such a young age. His looks definitely didn’t hurt, either.

He smiled at you, sitting in the second row waiting for class to start. Most people opted to sit as far back as possible, in the seats that were easier to slip out of the classroom unnoticed. But you sat proudly in the second row, alongside a few other eager students who’d heard good things about the class. His smile felt so personal, the glint of his teeth nearly causing heart palpitations as you smiled back. He didn’t know your name just yet, and suddenly that was your life’s mission; to make this man say your name.

It almost made you think he was giving you special attention with the way he paid close attention to you, his eyes lighting up whenever you came around the coffee shop steps with your notes in tow. He’d even stay past six o’clock if there were too many people before you who needed help, always offering to buy you a cup of coffee or a pastry after having waited for so long. He was so attentive, leaning into your space to look over the notes you took and making sure you were following along correctly. It was hard not to drool over him, especially when you were two of the last people left on the second floor, looking like a couple to the onlooking world. 

“I’m serious! I think I’m gonna ask him out.”

Winter rolled her eyes, closing the magazine that she was never really reading in the first place. "So, what? You'll fuck his brains out in his office and then walk into class like nothing happened?"

"Actually, he doesn't have an office." The thought made you blush, sneaking around with Wonbin while your classmates and professors were none the wiser. The taboo was too hot for you to let go of.

Another roll of her eyes, this time meant for you to see. "___, get a grip. You're just slobbering all over him because he's famous. At the end of the semester, you'll go back to eyeing that one saxophonist."

Winter was numb to the novelty surrounding celebrity and the likes of it. She was a not so struggling artist whose parents funded her entire lifestyle, and it had been that way her whole life. She'd had her fair share of moments in Page Six, and the lavish New York socialite life had grown old for her. Her friends were still in the scene, but she had long since retired. Winter's idea of a fun Friday night these days included watching The White Lotus while experimenting with cookie recipes (with hopes of making it into the NYT Christmas Cookie lineup, of course).

You didn’t tell any of your college friends, though. Sure, the whole university knew that he was guest-teaching a music-related course and that he was unbelievably attractive, but you never mentioned to your friends that you felt something between the two of you. As much as you trusted your small circle of friends, you knew that student-teacher relationships were absolutely prohibited, no exceptions. Knowing this did nothing to quell the insatiable thirst you had for him, or the flutter of your heart every time he locked eyes with you. You were willing to throw caution to the wind for him, knowing you officially had it bad for him the moment you started doodling his name in your notebook. It got to the point where you were ready to make your move, ready to invite him to an apartment party one of your friends was throwing. 

It was a Thursday evening, another night of attending his office hours despite your ninety-five percent in the class. You were the last student left in the final minutes of his office hours, just the two of you at the moderately sized table of the café. Your hands were mere centimeters from touching where they were laid out on the table, his warmth radiating onto you as he penciled in some helpful reminders in the margins of your notes. Just as you parted your lips to speak, he interjected. “I think it would be best if you stopped coming to office hours.”

That was not what you were expecting him to say. “Oh, um. Alright. Can I ask why?”

“You’ve clearly got an amazing grip on the material, and if anything you’re wasting your time showing up so frequently. It would be better if I had the full two hours for the students who are really struggling.” He refused to look you directly in the eyes as he spoke, opting to stare at your notes instead.

“Oh. Okay.” You gathered up all of your notes and pencils as quickly as you could, shoving them into your backpack without caring if the edges curled. The chair skidded back as you stood from it, not bothering with a goodbye as you saw yourself out. It was humiliating, almost, for him to have given you such a backhanded compliment. You started ruffling through your attendance record in the class and decided that you could afford to miss Tuesday, too embarrassed to be seen by him so soon after.

You really dodged a bullet there, then. Just seconds away from making a move on him when he told you that you should stop showing up to the only semi-private time you had together. It made you feel more delusional than ever before, allowing yourself to think he might actually feel something for you, too. You ignored the tears of frustration teasing the corners of your eyes, running off to the subway station that would deliver you back to your lousy campus housing safely.

What you didn’t see, however, was Wonbin nervously pulling at the ends of his hair. He was always such a bad liar but he knew he needed to put on the performance of a lifetime in order to get you to leave him alone. Considering it was quite the opposite of what he wanted you to do. There was something so intoxicating about you, your voice, your lips, your scent, that had him thoroughly fucked for you. Legally, he didn’t feel bad about it. But the professor he was working under, as well as the university, had already told him that under no circumstances was he to have dalliances with any of the students. So there he was, stuck thinking about you and not being able to do anything about it.

He had everything under control, at first. A few stolen glances during class but nothing to raise suspicion, just long enough for it to seem casual. Then it was finding you on social media, careful not to like any posts or to actually follow you, which made him feel like he was in full creeper mode. That was where he decided to draw the line until you started showing up to his office hours consistently, just as gorgeous as ever as you plopped down next to him in full concentration. He let himself indulge for a while, showering you with just a bit of special treatment until he realized he was crossing into dangerous territory. So he drew the line without a second thought.

You felt like you were back in high school, throwing a fit over being rejected by your longtime crush. All he’d done was politely ask you not to attend office hours anymore, but it felt like he’d told you off. You tried to convince yourself that it was because of your education, that you didn’t appreciate him taking away a resource that was proving itself helpful for you. But the real reason, the one you didn’t want to admit, was that you knew he felt it too. The storybook surge of electricity when his shoulder brushed yours and the way he never offered to get any of the other students coffee and pastries. The way he’d sometimes call you by a nickname when you were together or the way he spoke so highly of you in your exam notes. It was more than a one-sided schoolgirl crush and he was denying it just the same as you, and you couldn’t ignore how much it stung.

Saturday night was your chance to forget all about it. A friend of Winter's had convinced her to open up her ridiculously large penthouse for a laidback party, and she reluctantly agreed. You went to the party having skipped Wonbin’s office hours the evening before, successfully resisting the urge to 'drop by' the coffee shop casually; that would've been worse than just going to office hours. You were ready to let loose, your body a bit tense after the marathon overthinking session you had when Wonbin all but rejected you. All done up in one of your favorite ‘going out’ getups, you set yourself at a three drink maximum before starting the trek there.

You arrived considerably late, the party in full swing by the time you stepped off the elevator and onto the floor. There were so many people, sweaty bodies and intoxicated breaths, so much so that you almost missed him. He was leaning up against one of the kitchen countertops, nursing a drink of his own as he chatted with your friends. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the sight, almost annoyed that you ran in the same circles. But you pushed it aside to go talk to them, knowing they’d have a drink in your hand faster than you could make one. “___! You made it!” Wonbin’s eyes shot up to you making your way over to them, a raspy ‘fuck’ making its way off of his tongue. He suddenly felt trapped, nowhere to run as his student joined his little conversation circle. “Have you met Wonbin?”

“Yeah, we know each other. From around.” You avoided his gaze at all costs. “I need a drink.”

Wonbin quirked an eyebrow at you, “You drink?”

“Yeah, is that a problem?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight to the other foot as he avoided eye contact with you. “I just, you know… Are you old enough for that?”

“Ew, don’t be gross. I’m a uni student, I’m not in daycare. I’m twenty-one, promise.”

You were baiting him, and he knew it. Your anger was directed at him and only him, your bubbly demeanor intact for your friends as you caught each other up on the last month or so of your lives. You had no intention of making this night, or his life, easy. You knocked back the drink your friend Sohee gave you easily, sending Wonbin a sarcastic wink as he stared at you.

Even though your mind was begging you to run, you refused to let him ruin your night. They were your friends, too, and things were only awkward because he made them so. You stood your ground, pretending like he wasn’t even there as the conversation ebbed and flowed naturally, the party music seeming to follow suit. Everything was fine until someone who’d had too many came barreling into the kitchen, spilling their sticky spiked punch all over your legs. You let out a curse as it spilled into your shoes, the sensation far too uncomfortable to ignore.

“Here, go clean up in my bathroom.” Winter handed you the key, sending you off with a gentle shove in the direction of her bedroom.

You didn’t bother locking the door back behind you, knowing you’d be in and out before anyone could miss you. You took the time to freshen yourself up as well, poking around in Winter’s cabinets to see if she had anything exciting or ridiculously expensive. Perfumes, hand creams, serums. Sometimes you forget how rich New Yorkers could be. You turned the light off in the bathroom, turning to leave when you nearly jumped out of your skin at the pair of eyes watching you. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“You didn’t lock the door back.”

Wonbin crossed further into the room, hands in his pockets as he watched you. Even when you were irritated with him, his charm was able to cut through your faux harsh exterior. “I'm sorry, is this allowed? Or does this count as office hours, too? Should I see myself out so that other partygoers can take advantage of your precious time?”

“___, stop. I was just trying to make a decision based on what I thought was best.”

You scoffed at that, trying to ignore just how close he’d gotten to you. “Yeah, right. There’s only like five people who bother showing up anymore, so I don’t know why me showing up is such a big deal? Like you must think awfully highly of yourself if you th—”

He cut you off with a swift kiss, lips finding yours in the pale lighting of the bedroom as you froze. Time seemed to slow; just barely noticeable, but you could feel it. Like one minute felt like two with his hands cupping your cheeks and his hips pressed against yours. You relaxed into his touch, daring to kiss back as the party outside seemed to disappear. All your senses could focus on was him and the way he seemed to consume you.

He walked you backwards, stopping as you stumbled into a wall. The once innocent kiss grew in desperation, your hands everywhere at once as your  tongues clashed over and over again. It could’ve easily been a dream with how much you’d both had to drink, the taste of tequila fresh on his lips as you begged for more. Your leg hooked around his waist to draw him closer, a gasp slipping from your lips as you felt how hard he was through his jeans. And then he just stopped.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that.” He was breathless, his words not matching his desire as he slowly backed away from you. “This is exactly what I was trying so hard to avoid. I'm your superior, ___, I'd get fired for this.”

Your mind was blank, not a single thought worthy of being voiced in response to him. You knew it was wrong, knew his position could be terminated, but you didn’t care. Not when his touch was so addictive and your name sounded so sweet on his lips.

“This… this never happened, okay? And it can never happen again.”

He stalked off to rejoin the party, leaving you breathless and unsure of if any of that was real. The only evidence was the faint waft of his cologne that stayed behind, taunting you with the memory of his kiss. His soft, heated, spine-tingling kiss that had your head spinning from the feeling of it. Your lips were puffy from it, fingers reaching up to touch them delicately as if you could scare away the feeling somehow. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by him coming back in, locking the door behind him as you fixed your hunched over posture. “Fuck it, fuck this job, I don’t need to be a guest lecturer.” His hands found your hips as he pulled you in once again, kissing you with much different intent behind it. “This is all I've been able to think about this semester.”

You let out a whimper, clawing at his shirt as his teeth pulled at your lower lip. His hands smoothed their way up your body, cupping your breasts through the material of your shirt as you moaned into his mouth. This felt real, no doubt in your mind as you melted like putty in his hands. “Do something.”

His lips migrated to your ear, licking along the shell of it as your head tipped back. “Do you want my fingers?” You nodded sheepishly, cheeks flooding with heat in a sudden wave of shyness. “Then spread your legs for me, baby.” Your body obeyed him without question, legs spreading for him to slip his hand between. He could feel how wet you were through the pants you were wearing, your underwear no match for the arousal he was responsible for. Your fingers fumbled with the button of them, popping it open and dragging the zipper down.

You knew this was a bad idea. Whether you cared or not, having his hand slip past your panties was wrong on so many levels, no matter how good it felt. His reputation and your academic career were on the line, but you couldn’t will yourself to stop him. Not when your body was yearning for more, thighs clenching at the circles he was rubbing against your clit. Not with his lips scaling your neck with kisses that only made your knees weaker than they already were.

Your resolve finally melted when he slipped a finger into your warm heat, the stretch easily out-rivaling anything your own fingers provided. The relief sent you into a spiral of high pitched sighs and moans as he added another, curling them near perfectly against your g-spot.

“Sound so pretty for me, baby. Wanna put your moans in a song.” The thought alone made your stomach twist, visions of riding him in his studio while he held his microphone up to your lips. He could see the shift in your expression at the suggestion, teeth practically destroying your lower lip. “Is that what you want, baby? Wanna be my muse?”

All you could do was nod as the heel of his palm pressed against your clit, your orgasm crashing over you much sooner than you expected. He kissed you through the waves of pleasure, swallowing the pleas of his name and the whimpers from the slight overstimulation of your clit. The cherry on top, though, was when he licked his fingers clean of your arousal without once breaking eye contact. It made you shudder.

Neither one of you knew where to go from that moment on, the heat of it all long gone as you faced reality head on. You zipped your pants back up to break the silence, fluffing your hands through your hair to alleviate any signs of sexual activity before rejoining the party. Not a word to Wonbin before going back like nothing happened, even though the uncomfortable dampness of your panties said otherwise. 

unsaved number, 3:25am

↳ it’s Wonbin, i got your number from sohee. we should meet soon

you, 9:08am

↳ yeah? where?

wonbin, 9:09am

↳ 150 east 14th st, @ 11

you, 9:12am

↳ smh making me get my day started on a sunday morning

His apartment was as well kept as him, minimalistic in all its glory but decorated with his achievements wherever he saw fit. Awards, records, framed lyrics, any and everything he felt deeply proud of. You knew that you shouldn’t be there, no matter what occurred the night before. Wonbin was irresistible, and giving into his invitation was practically asking for trouble.

“I got coffee and bagels, if you’re hungry.”

Not just any coffee, though. Coffee from Gregory's. Of course he’d do something like this, you thought. He's trying to prey on my sentimentality to get me in bed. Kinda smart. “Why am I here, Wonbin?”

“Well as of three o’clock this morning, I’m no longer your teacher.”

You nearly choked on nothing as he smiled at you, pulling up the email correspondence from the Dean. “I'm sorry, what?”

“I never needed that teaching job, anyway. I took it because it felt good helping students, but it was getting to be too much, cutting into my own work time. And then when we crossed that line last night… I knew quitting was just the right thing to do.” He walked gingerly toward you, assessing your reaction carefully as he closed the gap between you.

You looked at him incredulously, brows furrowed as if he’d grown a second head. “Y-you’re not my teacher anymore?”

“I'm not your teacher anymore.” He backed you up against the wall of his foyer, the position eerily similar to where you were mere hours before. Heat rose to your face as he gazed at you, his smirk painfully malicious as his hand cupped your jaw. “Lemme take you out on a proper date. Dinner… the Angelika… dessert.”

Your gulp seemed to echo the walls of his apartment, giving up any and all fronts you were trying to put up. You could feel his lips hovering over yours more than you could see them, the soft hum that reverberated as he asked you if you’d like that. “I'm… not sure we’ll make it to dessert.”

“I thought I taught you last night to always leave room for dessert.” He popped open the first button of your blouse, getting a peak at the lavender bra beneath it. You’d dressed up for him, knowing very well where things could lead and not wanting him to see you in your far less alluring Sunday attire. Your breath hitched at his touch, your mind shouting for you to just wait for the date before crossing any more lines. But there he was, just as sexy as ever, sliding the sleeves of your top down your arms with his forehead pressed against yours. Youd didn’t stand a chance.

Your back was hitting his mattress before you could gather the strength to hold off, more of your clothes in a tangled web on his floor than on your actual bodies. Your skin was saccharine, a sweetener he’d been searching for ever since he could identify its name and he couldn’t get enough of it. Marks of his lips were blooming on every inch he could reach, your body signed with his name in a way you never knew you needed. His name rolled off your tongue like it was the only word you knew, the two syllables your new favorite combination in the entire world.

His hands guided your slip skirt down your legs, discarding it carefully with the rest of your clothes as you tugged impatiently at his boxers. He was hard, dangerously so, and it was killing you not to see him in all of his naked glory. “Canisuckyouoff?” You didn’t even think about it, the words flying out of your mouth before you could even try to stop them.

“Seriously?” You were already flipping the two of you over, inching your way down his legs until your face was leveled with his hips.

“Yes, please. I wanna make you feel good.”

Nothing could’ve prepared you properly for his length springing out of his black balenciaga underwear. It would’ve been a shame if he wasn’t as well-endowed as you wanted, but you were mature enough to know that it wasn’t all about size. Wonbin, however, was all about size. He was probably just barely above average in length but he was thick with veins in all the right places that had you close to drooling all over him.

You licked at his tip in a graze, not enough to satisfy him but enough to get him squirming. Small, agonizing licks here and there that had him fisting at his hair in sheer frustration. You pitied him with a bold lick up the underside, but went right back to the teasing that had him close to tears. “___, fuck, I can’t take anymore of this. I thought you said you wanted to make me feel good.”

“I will, baby, you just have to be patient.”

He whined out, not sure how the rest of the afternoon was going to play out if you kept teasing him so mercilessly. He was just about to beg again for you to touch him when your lips wrapped around his tip, his back arching involuntarily and sending him further into your mouth. A guttural groan accompanied the pleasure pumping through his veins as you bobbed her head along his cock, swirling your tongue around him every so often. You had a primal need for more of him, more of the way he tasted and the precum that was oozing out of him. More of the way his groans switched to melodious moans as his climax neared him, more of the way his face was contorted in pleasure as your hands rubbed at his thighs. 

His orgasm was building up in the pit of his stomach, the twine of tension pulling further and further until he was sure it was going to snap. Your mouth abandoning his cock in favor of his balls almost did the trick, your hand wrapping around him to jerk as you sucked one at a time. He pulled you off of him reluctantly, wanting so desperately to cum in your mouth but knowing he’d regret passing up the opportunity to fuck you. “I have condoms in the drawer.” His breath was ragged as he pointed the drawer out to you, his hair sticking to his forehead as his body heat was skyrocketing. You handed one to him before shuffling back to the bed, letting him climb over you clumsily with his arms supporting his weight.

He tapped his tip against your clit, running it between your folds as you bucked your hips toward his. “That's not fair.”

He slipped inside of you, barely an inch before pulling back out. He repeated the movement over and over until you were gripping at his hips in an attempt to force more out of him. “Isn’t it, though? You had your fun…” You were so wet that it was making it hard for him to keep up, your soaked walls pulling him in with every shallow thrust. “Have you learned your lesson yet, baby?”

You nodded your head furiously, feeling almost embarrassed by how much you needed him. He refused to give up so easily, though, continuing his perfectly angled thrusts that grazed your g-spot just enough to make your hips buck. "Wonbin, please."

His first full thrust had you clenching around him so tightly that he almost came on the spot, the warmth of you wrapped around him so overwhelming that he had to screw his eyes shut. Your eyes fluttered in satisfaction as he filled you to the brim, the stretch burning deliciously. All you could think about was the next time, and the time after that, and how he could stretch you out whenever he wanted to now. He was yours now.

His lips wrapped around your nipple as he slowly dragged himself in and out of you, savoring how tightly you were squeezing him. It was all the anticipation finally materializing into something he couldn’t get enough of. Your moans, your faces of pleasure, your scent, your taste. He wanted as much of it as you’d let him have, for however long you’d let him have it. "Is this what you were thinking of while I was trying to teach you? Hm? Thought about me stuffing you full of my cock?"

The only noise you could manage was a raspy moan, mind completely numbed by the sensation of his skin pressed against yours. You could feel your lips move, saying something along the lines of wanteditsobadbinnie, but the feeling of his nose dragging up the side of your neck distracted you.

Your bodies seemed to mold together as he picked up speed, drilling into you relentlessly as your nails dug into his hips, asking for more. The slap of your skin against each other was his kryptonite as he wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to hear it again and again until it played in his mind on a loop. He could feel the knot in his stomach warning him to slow down, to relish in the feeling a bit longer, but he didn’t care. Not when your lips were pressed right to his ear begging him not to stop. “Are you gonna cum for me?”

He tried to respond with a ‘yes’, but the absentminded clench of your walls sent him over the edge in a flash. He emptied himself into the condom, trying his hardest to focus all of his efforts on pushing you towards your own orgasm. His fingers found your clit between your sweaty bodies, the rough pad of his thumb orbiting your clit until you joined him in your own throes of euphoria. Your nails clawed down the expanse of his back as your vision blurred, ecstasy replacing every cell in your body as he kissed along your jaw.

The room smelled of sex and the remnants of his body wash, both of you fighting for air as you wrapped yourselves in his sheets. Your fingertips danced across his chest as he watched you wordlessly, face flushed with the evidence of your Sunday afternoon in. “What are you thinking about?” He caught your hand in his, eyes still trained on your face.

“Honestly? Trying to remember if there are any hidden corners in the Angelika where we can have sex.” You looked up at him as he laughed, a smile of your own creeping onto your lips. “What? Too honest?”

“You’re kinda perfect, you know that?”

His lips pressed chastely against your temple. “Yeah, actually, I do.”

[a1yx111]

alone together masterlist

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 synopsis ── taking comfort in the thought that you are together in aloneness through late night talks, heartfelt confessions, and a genuine connection. with your shared experience of recent heartbreaks, you wonder if getting together would be all worth it. in which you find solace in each other's company, that you are alone together.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 pairing ── park wonbin x reader.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 genre ── college!au, fluff, angst | ☾ - written portions

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 status ── ongoing.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 taglist ── open

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 notes ── the second wb smau i was telling y'all about while btl was still going on... tackles life and struggles in finding love in college so maybe this will be a bit more serious than lighthearted.. will contain mature content. somewhat based on a true story so minors do take note on what you consume on this hellsite. will take my time with this btw lol.. hopefully bbina will deliver... enjoy! + let's save our time together by making sure your blogs are visible for me to be able to tag you!

p.s if you came from my main blog saeist, this used to be nagi's fic :x

chapters . . . ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 𖡎 introduction 𖡎 one . . . ghosted 𖡎 two . . . he's hot 𖡎 three . . . close friends 𖡎 four . . . you're drunk 𖡎 five . . . K.O 𖡎 six . . . new me 𖡎 seven . . . boys night 𖡎 eight . . . speak of the devil 𖡎 nine . . . love sucks ☾ 𖡎 ten . . . seunghan's friend 𖡎 eleven . . . close 𖡎 twelve . . . intrigued 𖡎 thirteen . . . don't shoot the messenger ☾ 𖡎 fourteen . . . pinky promise ☾ 𖡎 fifteen . . . see you later 𖡎 sixteen . . . take a hit ☾ 𖡎 seventeen . . . exchange numbers 𖡎 eighteen . . . boundaries 𖡎 nineteen . . . deal 𖡎 twenty . . . someone 𖡎 twenty one . . . yearning ☾ 𖡎 twenty two . . . lullaby 𖡎 twenty three . . . big favor 𖡎 twenty four . . . blind date ☾ 𖡎 twenty five . . . muse 𖡎 twenty six . . . fell asleep 𖡎 twenty seven . . . ponyo 𖡎 twenty eight . . . happy birthday seunghan 𖡎 twenty nine . . . different ☾ 𖡎 thirty . . . worse 𖡎 thirty one . . . make things weird 𖡎 thirty two . . . dispatch sideline 𖡎 thirty three . . . just a friend 𖡎 thirty four . . . chismosavirus 𖡎 thirty five . . . location 𖡎 thirty six . . . keychain ☾ 𖡎 thirty seven . . . proof of life 𖡎 thirty eight . . . safe space 𖡎 thirty nine . . . just in case 𖡎 forty . . . stay ☾

⋆｡꩜˚ asks | lore | official playlist ˖𖤐

[a1yx111]

જ⁀➴ dirty little secret lee anton smau

synopsis: living with your older brother had its perks, including easy access to his hot best friend

half smau half written, brothers best friend, kys/kms jokes, smut (MDNI!!), fluff, possible angst

TAGLIST: CLOSED!!

profiles

─── ♡ chapters:

01. congratudolences

02. long live anton 🕊️❤️

03. up… plotting

04. library shenanigans ♡

05. i dont bite ♡ (smut)

06. silly goofy mood

07. bye baby ♡

08. idk who to slap

09. first date

[a1yx111]

omfg im giggling so bad

Impure Intentions || L. CY (Anton)

❀ pairing: chaebol heir!anton x rival!reader, implied fem!reader

❀ genre: enemies to lovers (but not really), fluff, suggestive

❀ word count: ~6.7k

❀ warnings: explicit language, mentions of dysfunctional families, one heated kiss scene

❀ summary: From the day you were born, all you ever heard was, “don’t fall in love with Anton Lee.” A better heir to a multimillion dollar conglomerate would follow their family’s advice. But you…not so much.

❀ a/n: sheesh, talk about writer’s block. This work has taken me so long and so much effort, but i'm very proud of how it turned out! It may have even helped me out of my slump. Also, please don’t judge me too hard. I know nothing about business and corporate families!!! As always, likes, reblogs, and replies are strongly encouraged. Happy reading!

Your head aches. The lights in the banquet hall are too bright and the clink of gilded silverware is too loud. Polite chatter buzzes around you like a pesky fly evading a swatter. The air is suffocating, overly stuffy with high end perfumes and colognes clouding the space. This is torture; the Lee family banquets always are.

It would be better if you could enjoy the food or engage with the various guests like everyone else does, but this is enemy territory. Your family had made it abundantly clear that this was not an event for fun, but rather for scoping out the competition. Lectures about a corporate acquisition going south and details about poor contracting simply entered in one ear and left via the other. You didn’t care why you had to be there. The knowledge of your forced attendance did enough to damper your mood, especially once you were hit with all of the rules around your presence.

Sit still, look pretty, smile politely, eavesdrop on any corporate plans, and don’t talk to Anton Lee.

You never understood your family’s obsession with keeping you away from him, the prized son and heir of the Lee empire. Everyone made sure to fill your mind with negative opinions and baseless rumors about the young man, as if to deter you from even giving him a chance. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice, however. You’ve never even seen the man, let alone had a conversation with him. Anton Lee was much more of a mythical being than he was a person, in your eyes. He was always whispered about, but never seen.

From what you gathered, he was around your age, tall, broad, and supposedly extremely handsome. He was known for his overly harsh demeanor, rumored to command a room with a simple word. His presence apparently spoke volumes, enough to speak to his blunt nature and bad intentions. It made sense, your parents would always say. After all, he is a Lee.

“Fix your face, honey,” your mother snaps with a forced smile. “You’ll give yourself wrinkles before you turn thirty if you keep scowling like that.”

It takes everything in you to fight an eye roll, biting back the string of expletives waiting on the tip of your tongue. “Sorry. I’m going to run to the powder room.”

You don’t bother to wait for her response before excusing yourself from the cocktail table, getting lost in the crowds of people as you head towards the bathroom. Away from your family, the air feels somewhat lighter, although it still reeks of entitlement. The throb in your head is insistent now, forcing you to escape to find relief.

You find yourself heading towards a set of grandiose double doors, hoping they will lead you anywhere but here. Luckily, your prayers are answered as you step through them onto a stone balcony. The crisp nighttime air does wonders to cool your heated skin, a slight breeze ruffling the loose fabric of your dress.

This is exactly what you needed, space and solace.

“Rough night?”

A soft voice makes you jump out of your skin, whipping your head around to find the source. Its owner leans up against the exterior wall, somewhat bathed in shadow. All you can make out is a glimmer of white teeth, reflecting the moonlight.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the figure apologizes, taking a small step forward into the light.

You feel your breath stutter in your chest as you take in the man. The first thing you notice is his sheer beauty, lips enticingly full and nose broad. His beauty is complemented by his tall stature, the height difference between you two becoming increasingly apparent as he approaches. Like this, bathed in the moonlight, it’s impossible not to notice the broadness of his shoulders and how they taper into a small waist. He fills out his all black suit beautifully, the garments clearly tailored to his every curve.

“Are you alright?” The man asks, stopping only a few feet away.

The concern in his tone is just enough to snap you out of your reverie.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just, um, needed some air.”

The man nods in understanding, leaning over to place his forearms against the balcony’s railing. You struggle not to eye the way his suit jacket stretches across an impossibly wide back. Instead, you mirror his stance, looking out at the beautiful gardens below, bathed in silvery moonlight. Just beyond the seemingly endless maze of hedges, you can make out what looks like a small lake, it’s surface rippling under the nighttime breeze. 

“It can be stuffy in there,” the man says softly. 

You find yourself hanging onto his every word, shocked that such a mild tone could come from such an intimidating man. “Yeah, it really can be.”

The man lets out a small chuckle, no doubt amused by your clear annoyance. “So I take it you’re not in the business.”

“No, I’m–,” you pause for a moment, not sure how much of your identity you should reveal to the stranger. “I’m related.”

He chuckles again, this time turning to look at you. “Hm, I guess I could say the same for me, then.”

A round of applause sounds from somewhere inside, and you curse under your breath, knowing your family will kill you for your absence. The man next to you seems unphased, as if he’s used to the party going on without him.

“I think I should get back.”

The man flashes you a smile, its brightness almost blinding in the dark. “That’s okay. It was nice chatting with you…”

“Y/N. And you are?”

“Anton,” he whispers. “I hope I can see you again, Y/N.”

An icy chill travels up your spine, momentarily freezing you in place. But you force yourself to remain composed, plastering a smile on your face. You silently thank your years of etiquette training and the countless social events you have had to smile for. With a slight nod of your head, you disappear back through the double doors, instantly choking on the scent of Chanel No. 5.

.        .        .

It’s easy to believe that your first encounter with Anton Lee would be your last, especially as the weeks pass without a single sign of him. It makes sense that he wouldn’t start making regular appearances at events after attending just once. He has managed to spend twenty years staying out of the spotlight, and you can’t imagine that changing now. 

But, for some reason, you can’t help but search for him in the crowd of every gala or at the tables of any grandiose banquet.

He would be easy to spot, with his overwhelming height and dazzling smile. Maybe his honey brown hair would be slicked back off his forehead this time, or maybe it would hang in front of his eyes to conceal his bright gaze. You’re sure that he would still talk in that overly soft tone of his, somehow managing to command a room without a change in volume. 

Even his absence begins to feel like a presence in and of itself, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. You tell yourself that it’s simple intrigue and nothing more. The first time you had ever laid eyes on your supposed family nemesis had been on a balcony bathed in the moonlight. Where had he been all these years?

More importantly, why had he disappeared again?

The question runs through your mind as you accept a flute of champagne from a waiter, eyes flitting around the charity dinner in hopes of spotting a specific someone. Somewhere near the front of the banquet hall, the Lee family is seated at a table with a few other wealthy families, but their oldest son is nowhere to be found. 

You crane your neck to get a better look. Just to be sure, you tell yourself. But the contorting you force yourself to do has you leaning right back into a waiter, your elbow knocking into his empty tray. The sudden movement has your champagne flute slipping out of your grasp, icy bubbles splattering across your chest and down the front of your dress. You can practically feel the daggers that your mother is shooting you from across the table, always having scolded you about the embarrassment that comes along with being a klutz. Before she can part her lips to tell you off, you excuse yourself politely, dashing out to find a restroom to freshen up. 

You let your heeled feet carry you through a maze of hallways, side stepping waiters and party guests as you move further and further away from the event space. It’s only when you travel down a flight of stairs that you find yourself a seemingly private restroom, briefly stepping inside to clean yourself up. No matter how much you dab at the stain in the center of your bust, the wine doesn’t seem to budge. You thank the heavens that it was champagne instead of a red, saving you some degree of embarrassment.

After a few minutes in the restroom, you find yourself wandering around, ending up in a much more secluded lounge space, equipped with a couple of couches surrounding a coffee table. You immediately collapse onto one, sighing as the ache in your feet finally lifts. 

It’s only then that you feel your eyes begin to sting, a familiar rush of heat striking your face as a lump begins to form in your throat. The sticky sweet smell of champagne still clings to your body, your dress uncomfortable where the alcohol seeped into it. You’re sure that you look a mess, knowing that tear smudged makeup would be the last thing to complete your disheveled look. 

“Another rough night?”

The soft rasp of a voice instantly has you perking up, breath caught in your throat as you take in the tall figure approaching you. His crisply pressed suit hugs his broad shoulders and cinches at an impossibly small waist. His lips are quirked upwards into a small smirk, clearly teasing. Something about it is enticing, setting off a stampede in your stomach.

“How could you tell?” You mumble, trying not to stare as Anton settles into a lounge chair across from you.

The man’s smirk just deepens. “Wild guess. What happened?”

“I spilled champagne on myself and now I look a mess.”

“You don’t,” Anton states, smirk dropping from his face. “You could never look bad.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “How would you even know that? You’ve only seen me twice.”

Anton chuckles, finally relaxing into the plush of his chair. His legs separate ever so slightly at the action, allowing you to admire his mile-long legs. It’s almost frustrating, how perfect he looks. You imagine that if anyone never looks bad, it’s him.

“I’ve seen you way more than twice, Y/N.”

The simple statement has you turning your eyes away from his figure, meeting his open gaze. He seems so casual, so unbothered, as if that one sentence hasn’t turned your world upside down.

“Wait, what?” You find yourself tripping over your words in the rush to get them out. “Wh-what do you mean you’ve seen me more than twice? I only met you the first time at that contracting dinner a few weeks ago.”

Anton chuckles again, cocking his head in a puppy-like manner. “Yeah, that was the first time we’ve met, but I’ve seen you so many times. You and your family have been at every major event since we were kids. How could I not see you?”

“But, I’ve never–,”

“I know,” Anton interrupts. “I like to stay outside or in whatever lounge areas I can find. These things always make me really anxious.”

Wow, you didn’t expect such an honest admission from a man of Anton’s status. If anything, his candor makes him much more attractive, as if he could get even more perfect.

“You know we’re supposed to hate each other?” He asks, a small smile making his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Apparently you’re my rival in the field, and I’m supposed to hate everything you say and do.”

Unfortunately, you know the feeling, causing you to let out a small giggle. “Oh trust me, I know. Do you, though?”

“Hate you?”

You nod, fighting a smile as Anton pretends to think.

“Nah,” he eventually answers. “My grandfather taught me from a very young age that I should never harbor negative feelings for beautiful women.”

The implication has heat rushing to your face, forcing you to struggle to keep your composure. “Well, my family has always told me that attractive men always have impure intentions.”

Anton chuckles, shaking his head slightly. He takes a beat before standing, letting his eyes rake over your still seated figure as he begins to retreat down the hallway. It’s impossible to decipher where the intensity of his gaze stems from. He eyes you as if he were hungry, trapping you against the couch with his stare alone.

“Then let me show you just how impure my intentions are.”

The man is gone with little more than a wink and a smile, leaving you with warm cheeks and the scent of champagne clouding your nose. 

.        .        .

You’re surprised to see Anton as soon as the next event, only three weeks later. It’s a simple charity ball for some rare disease research, but for some reason, Anton has decided not to hide in the shadows for this event. It’s interesting to watch how despite his supposed anxiety, he is clearly in his element. He greets everyone kindly, shooting various guests a charming smile as he is introduced to them. His father looks proud of him, a hand kept clapped over his shoulder the entire time. 

You wonder if he’s comfortable like this, with a blur of people and faces constantly passing by him. However, you are instantly snapped out of your wondering when a manicured hand grips your shoulder. The feeling of your mothers lips close to your ear sends a shiver down your spine, a perpetually bad omen. 

“Straighten up,” she scolds. “We’re going over to talk to the Lees. Their son is making a public appearance at an event like this for the first time. No funny business.”

You would laugh if not for the uncomfortable way her nails dig into your shoulder. It forces you to instantly fall in line behind your father, taking a deep breath as you get closer to the Lees. What is only a few seconds feels like hours until you finally stand face to face with your supposed rival. 

“Yoon Sang, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” your father greets, shaking the hands of the head of the Lee family. 

He even leans in to place a friendly kiss on Mrs. Lee’s cheek. You find yourself standing frozen in place as the parents exchange greetings, unable to do anything but stare at the man before you. He sports his signature charming smile, mouth full of perfectly white teeth on display. Not for the first time, you feel your face grow warm. 

“We thought it was about time for our Y/N to meet Anton. After all, they will be competitors when they take over the respective businesses, right?”

Your father’s comment snaps you back to attention. However, you are immediately distracted by the feeling of Anton’s large hand engulfing yours, his palm both warm and surprisingly soft to the touch. You have to glance upwards to meet his eyes, but it’s impossible to miss the amused glint in his stare. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I have heard so much about you.”

You force a smile on your face. “The pleasure is all mine.”

It’s easy to tune out the conversation after that, letting the adults blabber on while you reminisce about the feeling of Anton’s hand in yours. The man seems to be similarly distracted, clearly eyeing your figure. The silence between you speaks volumes, and you hope your parents are too deaf to hear it. 

“We would love to have Anton over at our headquarters sometime,” your mother suggests, her piercing voice rising above the noise of the ball. “I’m sure Y/N would be happy to show him around!”

You don’t even have time to process the full body panic that begins to overcome you before Anton’s family is readily agreeing. 

“I agree that it would be great for them to know the ins and outs of the business,” Mr. Lee replies with an overly saccharine smile. “We would love to have Y/N over for lunch at the estate as well. Who knows? Maybe they’ll find themselves to be friends.”

Your dad chuckles, obviously disgusted by the thought. “You’re so right. The two might even do a merger some day!”

As the group erupts into phony laughter, you feel the beginnings of a migraine tingling behind your left eye. Something about the cacophony of laughs and the dull classical music is making you ache, your stomach starting to swim with nausea. You dare a glance upward, fighting the pain that blooms in your head with the motion. 

Anton’s gaze is bright where it meets yours, a soft smile poised on his full lips. His cheeks are dusted with a slight blush, clearly flustered by the implications. There’s a slight fidget in his fingers, twirling expensive rings as a means of soothing himself. 

He’s cute, you realize, not for the first time. 

It’s only after a few more moments that the families say goodbye, the Lees promising to send a lunch invitation soon. Anton shoots you another smile before he follows behind his family, suddenly looking small despite his large stature. You can’t help but smile as you watch his departure, suddenly realizing that your migraine has disappeared. 

.         .         .

The Lee estate is just as gorgeous as you expected it to be, with tall stone gates and artfully placed landscaping. It looks impossibly large from where you’re seated in the car, causing nerves to begin to creep up your spine. You pass off the butterflies that begin to flutter in your core as obvious intimidation that comes with being on the property of your family’s biggest rivals. It surely has nothing to do with an overly soft voice, broad shoulders, and kind eyes. 

“Remember,” your mother had told you before sending you off. “This is business. Reveal nothing and absorb everything. And most importantly, remember that Anton Lee is not your friend.”

You take a step out onto the perfectly paved driveway, surprised to already see someone standing by the door. Anton seems to perk up when you lock eyes, shooting you a polite smile. His wave betrays his excitement, though. You imagine that if he were a puppy, his tail would be wagging. 

“Y/N, hey! I’m glad you actually came.”

“Please,” you shoot him a cheeky smile. “As if I could ever turn down an invitation from the Lee family.”

Anton lets out a slight groan. “Don’t remind me that this is ‘business.’”

“Well then what would you like for me to call it?”

Anton shrugs, turning to hold the front door open for you. It’s only when you pass through the threshold, Anton still standing behind you that he responds. 

“A lunch date.” Before you have the chance to respond, Anton is shutting the door behind you both. “Come this way. Food’s on the patio.”

It takes a few turns down intricate hallways to get to a set of double doors that lead to the patio. As promised, there’s an assortment of sandwiches and salad laid out on a round table, two seats set across from each other. You would be impressed, if not for the even more stunning view that lay before you. 

The patio looks out on sprawling gardens, tall bushes and blooming flowers swaying softly in the breeze. A little beyond the landscaping, a wooden dock leads out to a large pond, its greenish-blue water seemingly sparkling under the midday sun. 

“Wow, this is beautiful,” you breathe out, unable to take your eyes off the sight before you. 

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it? My parents have always had an affinity for water.”

You imagine that all of their properties have pools or lakes, much like this one. Meanwhile, your own family prefers the hustle and bustle of the concrete jungle, never expanding beyond brutalist modern penthouses in the tallest apartment buildings in the city. It must be nice, you imagine, to have a space that feels like a home and not just another office. 

Eventually, the two of you sit, settling into a comfortable silence as you distribute food amongst yourselves. It’s quite amusing to watch Anton as he eats, clearly possessing the hunger of a growing young man while forcing himself to take small bites and practice the etiquette of an heir. You wonder if you look the same, so obviously restrained while you want to let loose, if only for a bit. 

Despite the fact that you haven’t seen another person since you set foot in the Lee estate, you know that people must be somewhere. There are always eyes on you. 

“I’m surprised that your family was so adamant about having me over,” you begin, settling back in your chair. “I thought I was the enemy.”

Anton smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well you know what they say. Keep the enemy close and all that.”

“Is that what you want to do? Keep me close?”

You know you’re treading in dangerous waters. All it would take is one word about the obvious flirting to Anton’s parents for you to become your family’s disgrace. You can practically see the headline now: Conglomerate Heiress Gets Rejected By Rivals’ Son. Your family would disown you. And yet, as color begins to flood Anton’s cheeks, you can’t find it within yourself to care. 

“Yeah,” he says, voice coming out even softer than usual. “I think that is what I want to do.”

You duck your head, clearing your throat in an attempt to settle the flutter in your stomach. “I’d like that.”

A sudden interest in lunch leaves both of you munching away in silence. It’s peaceful, despite blushing cheeks and racing heartbeats. It allows you to realize that being around Anton is unlike being around anyone else in your family’s circle. Here, there’s no pressure to be prim and proper, no pressure to listen out for secret ins and outs of business. 

It’s odd to find comfort in the one person who is supposed to bring you anything but. And yet, with the warmth of the sun on your face and the pleasant fullness in your belly, you’ve never felt more at home. 

“You know,” Anton starts once you have both cleared your plates. “I think we’re supposed to be talking about business.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Can I be honest?”

Anton nods slightly, honey brown hair shifting across his forehead. 

“The business is the last thing I want to talk about.”

Anton smiles. “Trust me, I feel the same way.”

There’s a beat of silence, the two of you content to simply sit as the breeze ruffles the flowers that dot the landscape. When Anton speaks again, you watch his mouth, noting the way that his lips hold the same hue of the red tulips in the nearby flower bed. 

“Can I show you something?”

The simple question has your gaze flickering back upwards, trying to ignore the way your heart races when his eyes meet yours.

“Sure,” you whisper, words instantly carried away by the wind. 

Following behind Anton through the grass proves to be harder than you imagined, his long legs allowing him to move with a grace and speed that is difficult to match. He leads you in between a maze of flower beds, bringing you deeper into the garden until you’re surrounded by tall hedges on either side. From here, it’s impossible to see the house, so you just continue to follow behind Anton. You find yourself eyeing the broadness of his shoulders and the way his shirt shifts across the muscles of his back as he walks. It’s hypnotizing, so much so that you don’t realize that you have arrived at your destination. 

“This is my thinking spot,” Anton says with a little flutter of his arms, clearly trying to present the space to you. 

The hedge maze has opened up to a small central pocket, not housing much except for a small fountain and a stone bench. Anton is quick to take a seat, motioning for you to occupy the space next to him. It’s a bit of a squeeze, putting you and Anton close enough that you can feel the heat of his skin on your own. You dig your nails into the stone of the bench, hoping that it will steel your nerves. 

“I like to come out here when my parents get in my head about the business. It’s pretty peaceful.”

“Yeah,” you say softly, despite knowing that no one is within earshot. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it really is.”

There’s an airiness to Anton’s voice that has you turning to face him. You take in a sharp inhale when you notice that his eyes are already on you, the close proximity leaving your faces mere inches away from each other. The overwhelming rush of blood in your ears forces you to turn away, taking a deep breath to calm your thundering heartbeat. 

“You take all the girls here?” You aim for teasing, but the slight break in your voice makes it err more on the side of desperation. 

Anton shakes his head earnestly. “You’re the first person I’ve brought here who isn’t my family.”

The admission feels like a sucker punch to the gut. Except there’s no pain, just a rush of warmth that climbs up your throat like ivy. Anton is clearly surprised as well, his own words deepening the pretty flush that has taken hold on his cheeks. His bottom lip is trapped by his teeth, its plushness oh so enticing in the afternoon sun. 

“Y-you know,” you stutter out, swallowing thickly before continuing. “When you said you had impure intentions, I thought you were joking.”

“I don’t think I could joke about how bad I want you.”

It should feel like a corny line. It should feel like something he says to all the girls. After all, he’s Anton Lee. He could get anyone he wanted at the drop of a hat. So why does it feel so real when he says it to you? Why does it feel like those words are meant for you, and only you?

Anton’s gravity is pulling you closer, allowing you to lean further into his space. You’re close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your face, coming out in gentle puffs that reveal just how fast his heart is racing. He has released his bottom lip by now, leaving it glossy with saliva. It’s impossible not to anticipate the smooth glide of it against your own. 

A sudden vibration snaps you both out of your bubble, the two of you popping apart as if you were repelling magnets. It takes a few seconds for you to realize that the vibration is coming from your own phone, buzzing incessantly. You shoot Anton an apologetic look before stepping away to take the call. 

“We need you back home,” your mother rushes from the other side of the line, not bothering to waste time greeting you. “Your father wants to hear about your business with the Lees before he heads to his strategy meeting in an hour.”

“But the Lee house is thirty minutes away!”

You can practically hear your mother’s eye roll over the phone. “Then you better get going.”

.         .         .

Business meeting, my house at 4pm?

The text comes as both a surprise and the most expected invitation in the world. In your flurry to leave his house the week before, you had made sure to leave the man with your number. In turn, he smiled wide, promising to invite you over for another “business meeting” soon. 

Before you can inquire about how much business will actually be necessary to discuss, your phone buzzed again. 

My parents just left for a business trip to Milan. 

A flutter rushes through your stomach at the implications. It’s clear what that means, that the two of you will finally have a chance to act on your chemistry without the watchful eyes of competitive families. The two of you will finally get to exist as your own people, and not as rivals and heirs of major global conglomerates. 

The thought alone has you spending extra time on your appearance as you get ready. You make sure your hair sits just right and that your lips are perfectly glossy before pulling on a swimsuit and heading over. You try your best to remain as still as possible during the entire ride there, knowing that nerves in combination with the late summer heat will be enough to set you aflame. 

Your heart is slamming in your chest by the time you finally pull into Anton’s driveway. It’s accompanied by a soft flutter of affection when you spot Anton’s figure, waving at you from the doorway. The wide smile on his face alone is enough to melt you. But the relaxed fit of his muscle tee and the way his swim shorts sit low on his hips has your face flooding with heat. 

He greets you with a tight hug when you cross the threshold into the house. You try not to swoon at the firm pressure of his arms around your torso, ignoring the heat of his bare skin on your own. Anton had never touched you before, not beyond a simple handshake exchanged in front of parents, always respectful to a fault. For the first time, you find yourself grateful for that fact, knowing that now that you’ve had a taste of his touch, you will forever be addicted. 

“I’m so happy to see you,” Anton gushes. “My parents have been really getting on my nerves about business and competition lately.”

“So you decided to invite the competition over to chill?”

Anton smiles, cocking his head in a puppy-like manner. “No, I invited the competition over to swim!”

So that’s why he reminded you to wear a bathing suit mere minutes before you left for his house. It makes sense, from the minimal texts that the two of you exchanged. Anton was always excited about the balanced heat of late summer, citing it as the perfect time for a lakeside swim. You wouldn’t know, of course, never having the luxury of having a lake in your backyard.

“What about your staff?”

“I let everyone have the afternoon off,” Anton responds proudly before letting his smile sink into something softer, more private. “I just wanted us to have some time alone.”

The simple admission rings out loudly in the otherwise quiet house. It’s clear how badly Anton wants this, how bad he wants your company despite the taboo that comes with it. Unsurprisingly, you find yourself wanting it just as bad, if not more. You’ve never craved anyone��s presence the way you have craved Anton’s, despite him being the one person in the world that you supposedly need to keep your distance from.

A small nod on your end is enough for Anton’s smile to grow once again, pearly whites on full display as his eyes wrinkle at the corners. The sight alone has your heart beating a little harder in your chest, the minor flutter in your abdomen growing into a full stampede of emotions. The feeling only intensifies as Anton engulfs your hand in his, lacing your fingers together as he leads you out into the backyard.

The late afternoon sun sparkles against the water, illuminating everything in a blue-yellow glow. It’s the most captivating sight for miles, you’re sure, until Anton begins to take his shirt off. The way his muscles shift under his unblemished skin rivals the beautiful surface of the lake, sparkling in its own way. His shoulder blades dance across his back enticingly as he leans down to remove his socks and shoes.

He shoots you a smile over his shoulder before cannonballing right into the water.

It takes only a few seconds for the man to reemerge, slicking his honey brown hair off of his forehead. His biceps bulge with the movement before waving you into the water. It’s as clear of a signal as any, but you can’t help but hesitate, suddenly shy at the thought of stripping down to your bikini in the presence of such a man. But the delicate reflection of sunlight in his eyes and the easy smile on his face is enough to draw you in.

Before you know it, you’re discarding your clothes, taking a running head start to join Anton in the water.

Your skin is submerged in an icy chill, the water surprisingly cool for so late in the day. But soon the warmth of another body is nearing, making the cold that much more bearable. You resurface with a giggle, giddy from the feeling of swimming so long. Instantly, Anton is joining in, clearly happy seeing you filled with such glee. 

“Fuck, it’s cold!” You exclaim, shrieking when Anton splashes a bit of water your way. 

“It’ll get better,” Anton grins. “You just gotta keep swimming.”

It’s easy to do as told, letting your body relax as you continue to wade in the cool water. Eventually you let yourself fall into your back, feeling the contrast between the warm sun on your face and the cool water surrounding your body. It’s serene, allowing you to let your worries quite literally float away. However, the feeling of a chilled hand grazing your hip is enough to snap you out of your relaxation, scrambling to right yourself in panic. 

“Sorry!” Anton chuckles. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just getting bored without you.”

“It’s okay,” you soothe, finding that the pace of your heart is beginning to quicken for an entirely different reason. 

Anton looks especially beautiful like this, with his damp hair splayed messily across his head and drops of water dripping down his face. The sun has just begun to set, painting Anton’s skin with a beautiful golden hue. His eyes glisten just like the water, sunlight sparkling as it dances across the reflective surfaces. Like this, Anton seems so bright, so luminous, that hating him seems impossible. 

“I’m really glad you came today,” Anton says, his voice dropping to that soft shy tone he always uses in the presence of others. “I’m glad to have someone who gets what it's like.”

You can’t resist the smile that begins to tug on the corners of your mouth. “You’re not just saying this to get my family’s business secrets?”

Anton huffs out a laugh. “No. I’m saying this because I really like you. I like spending time with you, even though I’m supposed to hate it.”

With every word, you find yourself drifting closer to the man, his hand remaining steady on your hip as you tread lightly. Despite the obvious effort to keep your head above water, you feel like you’re drowning. But the slick feeling of Anton’s skin against yours reminds you that you won’t drown. Anton won’t let you. 

“I like you, too.”

The simple admission has Anton’s face flushing, the pretty rose color glistening orange in the light. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. You hate to dull his beauty in this moment, but you have to. 

“But what about our families? It’s not like the two of us can ever be anything.”

Anton sighs, his face dropping with realization. “I know, but…is it crazy to say that I don’t care?”

The hand on your hip tightens, pulling you even closer into Anton’s space. It’s close enough that the two of you end up bumping knees every so often, constantly moving to keep yourselves afloat. Here, in his space, you can see the way that his lashes cast subtle shadows on his cheeks. It’s easy to count the few moles that pepper his face and neck, sitting stark upon unblemished skin. 

When his eyes meet yours, it becomes clear what you wish to do. No, what you need to do. 

“Anton,” you whisper. “What did you mean when you said you had impure intentions?”

The man moves to open his mouth, but before he can get the first syllable out, you cut him off. 

“Don’t tell me,” you coo. “Show me.”

You would be lying if you said you never thought about the feeling of Anton’s plush lips on yours. In reality, you spent too many nights lying awake, thinking about the slick feel of his mouth on yours, of the way his large hands would feel clutching onto your body, of the feel of his soft brown strands underneath your fingertips. 

But dreams never compare to the real thing. 

Nothing could compare to the pure bliss of having Anton’s mouth slide against your own. He moves fervently, letting the kiss carry the twinge of desperation that you both have felt since you’ve met. It’s far from the polite way that you expected Anton Lee to kiss, but that makes it that much better. 

His nose grazes your cheek as he tilts his head, angling himself to kiss you deeper. His tongue is warm as it eases its way into your mouth, the warmth a welcome contrast to the chill of the lake. The hand that was once grasping your hip travels down to your backside and thigh, lifting you up to wrap yourself around his waist. It’s improper, at the very least, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when Anton sighs softly into your mouth. 

It feels like ages before the two of you part, chests heaving where they remain pressed together. You’re so close that you imagine that even water can’t exist between you two. Anton’s abdomen is solid where your core is pressed up against him, supporting your weight so that neither of you are at risk of sinking. 

“That,” Anton whispers, “is what I meant by impure intentions. 

You can’t help but giggle at the boy’s breathless tone, suddenly feeling giddy that you were the one to make him this way. You were the one to fluster the ever-perfect Anton Lee. It was you. It’s always been you. 

“Our parents…” you mutter reflexively, your mind a war zone. 

“Hey,” Anton coos, bringing a hand under your chin. 

With just a gentle tilt, you meet his eyes, instantly getting lost in the way his gaze bores into yours. As if he can’t help himself, Anton leans in to place a quick peck on your lips. When you part, a soft whine escapes your lips, mourning the loss of your lover’s kiss. 

“Y/N, we’ll figure it out. I won’t let this go south because of our parents.”

You nod nervously, trying your hardest to believe in the reassurance that Anton is trying to provide you. As if he could sense the residual nerves, Anton presses his lips against your forehead in a soft kiss. The sensation makes your eyes flutter shut, a content smile beginning to grown on your face. After a brief moment, Anton chuckles. 

“Who knows?” He mutters. “Maybe our parents will get that merger after all.”

.         .         .

[8 years later]

BREAKING NEWS: Lee Enterprises and TOTAL, Inc. have announced a historic merger to form one mega-corporation. This announcement comes one year after CEO and President of Lee Enterprises, Anton Lee, and Chairperson of TOTAL, Inc., Y/N Y/L/N, announced their marriage. The new multinational conglomerate will be known as Lakeside, LLC, and is said to have a current stock value of over five billion dollars.

.FIN.

[a1yx111]

im not usually one to read rpf but this made me feel something

Melt || P.WB

❀ pairing: nerdy!wonbin x gn!reader

❀ genre: college au, suggestive, fluff

❀ word count: ~4.8k

❀ warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, suggestive themes, somewhat dialogue heavy, wonbin is slightly ooc, one heated kiss scene that kinda doesn’t end…oops?

❀ summary: Getting snowed in with your socially awkward project partner isn’t ideal. But maybe it is, when he’s as attractive as Park Wonbin. And who knows, maybe you’ll find yourself someone to keep you company until the snow melts.

❀ a/n: I have honestly never loved a fic concept more than this one! I hope you all love it as much as all do. As always, likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated and encouraged. Happy reading!

Deep eyes remain trained on a space outside the window, their darkness absorbing the stark whiteness of the snow. At this point, it has covered everything, leaving the entire town blanketed in white. You can only see his profile, but the white reflects beautifully in the rich brown of his eyes, doubly projected onto the lenses of his glasses. You wish you had your sketchpad, hoping to capture even a small portion of his beauty. A drawing wouldn’t even begin to compare, though. 

“It’s still snowing,” Wonbin says, smiling sheepishly. 

He turns to you for the first time in a few minutes, eyes now sparkling with the reflection of your interior lights rather than the freshly fallen snow. He’s still breathtaking, a fact that you’ve never been quite able to get over since meeting him. To think that he was sitting in the front row of the class, left by himself for the year end project…it must have been fate. It must have been a higher power that turned his wide eyes to land on yours while a soft blush bloomed on his tan cheeks. 

It must have been fate when your professor noticed that you two were the only ones left without partners. It must have been fate when the first time Wonbin came over to start on the project, snow began to fall. At first it was simply light flurries, not enough to stick. But after an hour, the snow began to come down in blankets, blocking all entrances and exits, leaving all public transportation stuck in place. 

It must be a higher power that has you snowed in your apartment with the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. 

“I’m so sorry for intruding like this,” Wonbin mutters as he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “If I had known it was going to be this much snow, I would have suggested another day to work on the project.”

Thank god he didn’t. 

“Don’t apologize,” you reassure from your spot on the couch. “You can’t control the weather. And besides, it gives us plenty of time to work on the project. Who knows, maybe this is a sign that we should be friends or something!”

Wonbin seems confused by your remarks, a familiar blush beginning to dust his cheeks. “Friends?”

The man’s confusion doesn’t quite come as a shock to you. Although you had never really seen him before being paired together in class, it was obvious that Wonbin was more of a loner. All you knew was that he had a roommate, Eunseok, which is why you suggested your own place for the project. His social skills were…questionable, to say the least, so it doesn’t surprise you that he’s hesitant to lean into the label of friends. Although, you’d be lying if you said that was all that you wanted from him. 

To say that Wonbin is attractive is an understatement; he’s nothing short of absolutely gorgeous. His long, dark hair constantly falls forward to conceal his wide, dark eyes, forever framed by his thick-rimmed glasses. His mouth remained enticingly pink, full lips slightly chapped from his habit of biting them and the harsh winter cold. Despite his habit of shrinking into spaces, it’s clear that his shoulders are impossibly broad, tapering into a thin waist that could only be maintained through hours at the gym. 

Even now, as the man stands with his hands politely clasped behind his back, it’s impossible not to notice the subtle flex of his triceps underneath his short sleeve tee shirt. Never had you been more thankful for the man wearing layers, all because he simply runs warm. You can’t help but wonder if his skin would be hot to the touch, if close proximity would warm you to your core. 

“Yeah,” you smile. “We can be friends! I mean, we should get to know each other a bit anyways. That might make the project more bearable.”

Wonbin seems to mull the suggestion over for a second before he breaks out into a wide smile. “Yeah, let’s be friends.”

It’s hard not too coo at the prominent apples of his cheeks, painted that faint pink that seems to permanently color Wonbin’s face. You have rarely seen the man smile. Normally, he seems nothing short of absolutely miserable, forever closed off and not sparing anyone a second glance. But something about the genuine excitement swimming in his eyes has a pleasant warmth blooming in your gut. 

“Why don’t you come sit down,” you pat the space next to you on your worn couch. “It seems like we’re going to be here for a while. Wine?”

Wonbin’s smile grows impossibly wider. “Yeah, wine sounds good.”

The rosé is crisp on your tongue when you finally settle back into the couch. Wonbin seems to be enjoying it as well, despite his overly stiff body language. He remains rigid on the opposite side of the couch, which is more like a loveseat, seemingly determined to keep as much physical space between you two as possible. It’s adorable, but you know that needs to change. 

You let some time pass with both of you enjoying your wine and the music that you had put on earlier as a backtrack for studying. The studio apartment that you call home is small enough that the sound fills all four walls, the space forever feeling cozy. Wonbin seems to enjoy it as well, if the way his fingers tap out the beat on his thigh is anything to go by. 

You imagined that it would be awkward between the two of you, as Wonbin doesn’t seem to do the best in social situations. But the man seems content to sit in relative quiet, just enjoying the music. It isn’t until the both of you are about halfway into your second glasses that you speak again. 

“So, what do you like to do for fun?”

Wonbin seems a little surprised as he turns to you, as if not expecting to do much talking at all. 

“I like playing video games. I also like to go to the gym with Eunseok and some of his friends sometimes.” The man’s nose scrunches as he thinks for a moment. “Oh! And I really like to play the guitar.”

You can’t help the way your eyes flit down to his hands, taking in the way his fingers wrap around the stem of his wine glass. He clearly has a few callouses, fingertips rough from years of plucking guitar strings. A few prominent veins run down from his forearm and stretch through his hands, indicating a subtle strength behind his grip. Suddenly, your core feels warm, and you’re sure that the wine is not to blame. 

You clear your throat roughly before responding. “That’s so cool!”

Wonbin’s eyes seem to sparkle when he turns them to you. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean. I’m sure it’s a hit with the ladies, men, whoever you date.”

“Oh, well…” A pout begins to form on Wonbin’s lips, his seemingly permanent blush spreading to the tips of his ears. “I haven’t really dated anyone before.”

It shouldn’t come as a shock to you, but it does. Wonbin’s undoubtedly attractive, and on a campus as big as yours, you’re sure that someone would snatch him up if they got the chance. But with his quiet, awkward demeanor, you’re not surprised that he hasn’t quite let anyone. In an odd way, the news makes you a little giddy. 

“Really?” You raise an eyebrow. “You haven’t dated anyone? Like not even a situationship?”

“Situationship?”

Wonbin’s evident confusion is extremely endearing, but startling nonetheless. Has he really never experienced romance before? It seems impossible, but with the way he worries his bottom lip between his teeth, there seems to be no other explanation. 

You sigh, taking a long swig of your wine before responding. “Yeah, it’s like, a mutual crush but you never actually date.”

“Oh, then no.” Wonbin’s flush deepens, almost impossibly so, the wine and embarrassment creating a beautiful combination on his face. “I mean, I’ve had crushes before. But they’ve never liked me back, I don’t think…”

Wonbin’s voice trails off into a soft whisper, his eyes growing glassier behind his clear lenses. It’s clear that the boy doesn’t seem uncomfortable admitting his lack of experience, the wine probably doing wonders for his confidence. But he still seems shy, secretive, refusing to meet your gaze as if eye contact would reveal something—too much, maybe. 

It’s impossible not to wonder what kind of secrets lay hidden behind Wonbin’s meek exterior. You wonder if he becomes a different person entirely when he relaxes. When the glasses come off and the shy demeanor dissipates, who exactly is Park Wonbin? And why do you feel like you’d want him no matter what?

“Wait, so how—?” You cut your own question off by clapping a hand over your mouth. “I’m so sorry! I just realized I’m being so intrusive. I didn’t mean to interrogate you, I swear!”

A soft smile blooms on Wonbin’s face, never faltering as he drains the contents of his second glass. “It’s okay.”

“No, no, it’s not! Here, ask me something…or a few things. That way we can call it even.”

“Oh, I don’t need to do that. I promise it’s okay.”

“No, seriously,” you insist. “We can even make a game out of it! Like 21 questions or something.”

The look of confusion on the man’s face tells you everything you need to know. Sure, the game is somewhat outdated, but it’s still a classic. And as a man in his twenties, you had at least expected the man to have participated in a way too sexual game of 21 questions. It was like a rite of passage! But Wonbin seems to be full of surprises. 

“It’s basically a game where you just ask each other questions back and forth that the other person has to answer.”

Wonbin cocks his head cutely. “What if I don’t want to answer?”

“Then you don’t answer,” you shrug. “Some people play where you have to drink if you don’t want to answer, but we don’t have to do that.”

Surprisingly, Wonbin’s eyes light up with a newfound mischief at the explanation. It’s a stark contrast from the wide-eyed confusion that normally crosses his face, or the shy blush that continually colors his cheeks. Instead, he appears like a normal college student, for once, ready to take on a challenge. The look ignites something in your core that you force yourself to ignore. 

“I think I want to do it that way. You know, where you drink and stuff!”

His excitement forces you to shrug, immediately grabbing the bottle of wine and splitting its contents between your two glasses. It seems like the alcohol has allowed Wonbin to relax a little bit, if the way he sinks into the couch is anything to go by. You struggle not to track the stretch of his biceps when one arm rests on the back of the loveseat, unintentionally putting you in his embrace. 

Your voice comes out shaky despite your attempts to steel your nerves. “You ask first.”

“Uh…” Wonbin’s nose scrunches cutely as he thinks, clearly using every corner of his wine-tipsy brain to come up with a question. “Oh! What’s your favorite color?”

You can’t help but snort at the man’s generic question. It’s clear that he didn’t know the game, so he would have no idea what other things that question would lead to. For a moment, you consider telling Wonbin how that question always leads down a rabbit hole of debauchery. But you can’t bring yourself to dampen the innocent glisten in his eye. 

“It’s green, but not like a light green or a lime color. I like a good, deep, forest green.”

Wonbin hums, seemingly satisfied by your thoughtful answer. “Okay, your turn.”

“What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done?”

“Gotten a tattoo,” Wonbin answers immediately.

You’re sure your eyes are popping out of your head. You expected his answer to be something akin to getting a bad grade on a test or attending a shady party, but this is on a whole new level. Subconsciously, your eyes roam his form, trying to get a peek of ink, wherever it is. When you can’t seem to find any, you can’t control your follow up question. 

“Where is it?”

Wonbin smiles cheekily, rosy cheeks deepening in color. “It’s not your turn anymore.”

As the game progresses, the two of you sink into comfort. It’s easy to trade questions and swap answers like it’s nothing, only a few questions causing either of you to drink. You learn that Wonbin gets giggly as he gets tipsier, lips bitten into a deep cherry shade that matches the flush on his cheeks. It would be cute, if it weren’t for the way his eyes bore holes into your face, the man suddenly no longer scared to maintain eye contact. 

You wonder if this is an act, a persona that Wonbin puts on to win over whoever he’s interested in. It would make sense: act shy and innocent, find a way to hang out, slowly let his confidence begin to show over a few drinks and shared laughter. But then there’s all those little moments that betray the confident aura that the liquor has bathed him in. 

At one point, Wonbin attempts to drink from his cup a little too quickly, the glass clashing against his teeth and causing him to wince. At another, he gets so excited about his love for guitars that he starts rambling, fumbling over his speedy words as he tries to include you in his interest. It’s endearing, and so incredibly genuine that you can’t doubt for a second that this is him. Once again, you find yourself wondering how a man like this could be single. 

“Your turn,” Wonbin chirps before taking another sip of his wine. You’re surprised he’s been able to make it last so long. 

“Hmm,” you ponder dramatically, tapping your index finger against your chin in a way that makes Wonbin giggle. “How old were you when you had your first kiss?”

The man freezes. His hand remains hovering awkwardly above the coffee table, about to place his wine glass down. He slowly turns to you, eyes wide and face scrunched in a permanent wince. You simply blink back at him, not sure why the question would elicit such a reaction. 

It takes Wonbin a second before he’s able to snap out of it, letting out a breath. He finally places his glass on the table before shooting you a sheepish smile. It seems like second nature when his hand comes to scratch at the long hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“I, uh,” the man flounders for a bit, clearly racking his brain in hopes that his next sentence will magically appear. “I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

Park Wonbin really is full of surprises. 

You guess that the information shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to you, considering all of the other things that he hadn’t experienced. But you still expected the man to have some experience. Hell, even having a peck in elementary school is more expected than never kissing anyone. 

Despite the way that Wonbin lets out a soft chuckle, it’s clear that the admission makes him somewhat uncomfortable. His body is stiff in the loveseat, despite the way he tries to feign nonchalance. He can’t seem to keep his gaze on yours, looking anywhere else but at you. 

You hate it, the way one simple question has altered the vibe of your entire interaction. Things had been going so well, the two of you getting along much better than expected. But of course, your big mouth had to ruin it. Curiosity must have truly killed the cat, because Wonbin looks like he’d rather be six feet under than sitting next to you. 

A quick glance towards the window reveals that the snow is still coming down heavily, with no signs of stopping soon. It’s clear that Wonbin will still have to be here for another few hours, at the least, so discomfort is not an option. You just sigh, placing a reassuring hand on Wonbin’s thigh. 

“Hey, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” you soothe. “I’m sorry, though. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Wonbin shakes his head, still refusing to meet your eyes. “I’m not…you didn’t…it’s fine, really. I should have just drank instead of answering. That’s how you play the game, right?”

You don’t buy the man’s unbothered act, especially as his thigh muscle remains tense under your touch. Before you can respond, Wonbin pipes up again, words coming out in a rush. 

“I mean it’s not a big deal anyways. Like I’ve just never had the chance to do it, you know? It’s not like I’m saving it for anyone special or anything. It just hasn’t really come up. And I feel like it doesn’t have to be so serious. I’m sure my time will come soon.”

As the man rambles, you can’t help but watch the movement of his mouth. His lips look so full where they curve around each syllable, perfectly pink and slightly glossy from saliva. Every now and then, you get a peek of his perfectly white teeth; you can’t help but wonder how they would feel sinking into the flesh of your own lips. 

“Wonbin,” you call softly. 

The boy doesn’t seem to hear you, still caught up in his ramblings. 

“Wonbin,” you repeat, louder this time. 

It still doesn’t seem to be enough, the man clearly lost in his own explanations. 

“You can kiss me!” You blurt. When the man turns wide eyes towards you, you immediately begin to backtrack. “I mean, only if you want to.”

Wonbin flounders for a moment, his mouth stuck in a helpless cycle between open and closed. You brace yourself for the impact of rejection, silently cursing at how you’ve killed the vibe once again. With the ongoing snow, you know you’ll have to bear the awkwardness for at least a few more hours. 

“I want to.”

What?

“What?”

Wonbin’s no longer looking at you, instead staring at where he’s picking at the loose threads of his ripped jeans. 

“I want to,” he mumbles softly. “I want to kiss you, but only if you mean it. I get it if it was a joke or something, though.”

Your heart breaks at the thought of what Wonbin’s been through, no doubt having been teased during his growing years. But you can’t imagine how anyone would joke about wanting to kiss him when that’s all you’ve wanted to do since you first laid eyes on him. 

“Yeah…I mean, no! I’m not joking,” you rush out. “I mean, you said you never had the opportunity, so what better time than the present?”

Wonbin nods, still unable to meet your gaze. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Despite the icy chill of the winter weather, it suddenly feels one hundred degrees hotter in your apartment. Although you and Wonbin are seated at opposite ends of the loveseat, the space between you feels almost nonexistent. If you just shifted a bit to the right, you would be able to make the contact that you so desperately crave. 

“So,” Wonbin starts after a moment of silence, “um, what should I do?”

For a second, you pause, wondering how exactly you should go about this. It’s Wonbin’s first kiss. There’s an immense pressure to make it great, perfect even. When you think back on your own first kiss, it was anything but, which just deepens your desire to make this everything he has ever dreamed of. 

The liquid courage that your glasses of wine have given you allows you to slide into Wonbin’s lap. You try to ignore the way that the man instantly tenses, reminding yourself that this is normal for a first time. 

“Is this okay?” You whisper, almost nose to nose with the man.

Wonbin swallows thickly before nodding, hands hovering awkwardly in the air. At his confirmation, you allow yourself to relax into your position, thighs cast on either side of his hips. Like this, you can see the faint freckles that dot Wonbin’s face, some hidden by the thick frames of his glasses. He’s gorgeous, you notice, not for the first time. 

The music is still playing softly in the background, a calm R&B melody flooding the small space. It’s cozy, slowly melting your discomfort away. Wonbin seems lost though, hands twitching where they hover aimlessly. You can’t help but smile at the display of nerves, choosing to soothe them by placing them on your hips. Wonbin’s fingers flex and then relax, slowly gaining confidence where they hold you. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You ask. 

“Yeah, I—,” Wonbin swallows heavily. “Please.”

You ignore the sharp flutter that rushes through your stomach, instead wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You can feel the longer strands of his hair tickle the skin of your forearms, soft and delicate. Wonbin’s eyes flicker down to your lips, once, twice, before he goes back to meeting your gaze. 

“Tell me if you want to stop, okay?”

All you get is a quick nod before you’re leaning in and placing a chaste peck on his lips. It’s nothing special, just a soft meeting of lips, but it feels electric. You pull away with a soft sigh, lamenting the fact that it was over all too quickly. Wonbin is slow to open his eyes, blinking at you slowly. 

“How was th—,”

You don’t get to finish your sentence before Wonbin’s lips are on yours once again. It’s firmer this time, his lips more insistent where they blanket yours. The grip on your hips tightens as Wonbin tilts his head, deepening the kiss ever so slightly. It’s still fairly modest, but the feeling of him against you has goosebumps erupting on your skin. The kiss only lasts a second longer than the first, but you feel doubly breathless when the two of you part. 

“Was that good?” Wonbin asks, dark eyes sparkling behind glasses that are slightly askew. 

You don’t trust your voice at the moment, choosing the answer his question with a simple nod of the head. The confirmation has a bright smile blooming on the man’s face, his fingers pressing more firmly into your hips. 

“Can I kiss you again?”

This time, you can’t stop yourself from leaning forward, pulling the man directly into a liplock. Wonbin seems to have gained a bit of confidence, tilting his head to the side as his lips move against yours. He even goes as far as to trace his tongue along the seam of your mouth, somewhat smiling when you grant him entrance. 

Wonbin’s kiss is nothing like you expected. While he lacks some finesse, he still kisses you breathless, lips moving smoothly against yours. Even as you both are properly making out, he seems to keep up with your demands, copying your movements every so often. He’s a quick learner, making up for what he lacks in experience with enthusiasm. 

The two of you part with an obscene wet sound, your shared saliva making Wonbin’s lips glisten. He looks properly fucked out from just a bit of kissing. His glasses sit askew on his nose, hair tousled from where your fingers were playing with dark strands. It makes your imagination run wild. If this is how he looks after making out, how would he look after he—?

You clear your throat as an attempt to snap out of your daze. Carefully, you untangle yourself from Wonbin’s lap, immediately missing the heat of his skin on yours. Wonbin seems to miss it, too, if the way his hands begin to play with the fabric of his jeans again is anything to go by. After a moment, he straightens out his glasses and takes a deep breath. 

“So,” you start, breaking the tense silence. “How was that for your first kiss?”

Wonbin sighs, staring at an unspecified point in the apartment. “It was good. Really good.”

You can’t help the soft chuckle you let out at the man’s honesty, helplessly endeared. It’s a wonder how the man can go from the sole object of your desire to the target of your cuteness aggression so quickly. It’s refreshing, but also dangerous in the way it makes your heart squeeze in your chest. 

Wonbin still looks dazed when he finally turns to you, cheeks painted with a fresh flush. He seems oddly nervous, more nervous than one should be in the presence of someone they just made out with. 

“Can I tell you something?” He blurts. 

The outburst startles you, but the determination in his dark eyes piques your curiosity. When you give an affirmative hum, the man sighs, seemingly hyping himself up before he speaks. 

“I think I like you.” He seems disappointed in his own admission, brows furrowing cutely as he rushes to correct himself. “I mean, I know I like you. Like, more than just a project partner. I have a crush on you.”

Your heart sinks at the confession. Of course Wonbin would be convinced that he has a crush on the person he shared his first kiss with. The combination of the wine and the smooth music hasn’t helped either, likely clouding his head with a vision of romance that he doesn’t truly believe in. As much as you’d like to believe it’s real, you know that this is just a result of circumstance. 

“Wonbin,” you sigh, trying to ignore the way he lights up at the simple call of his name. “I think you’re just saying that. I mean, a first kiss can really change your perception of someone.”

“What?”

You run a hand through your hair, fighting the disappointment that sinks in your core. “I’m just saying that you probably don’t actually have a crush on me. I think it’s the emotions of the kiss, the wine, the close proximity, you know, all that stuff.”

Wonbin looks utterly confused. “I had a crush on you before I kissed you though. Even before I came over here today, I thought you were pretty.”

Now it’s your turn to be confused. “What?”

“I thought it was my lucky day when we got paired up. I mean, I knew you would never notice me otherwise.”

“You mean…”

“I’m happy my first kiss was with you,” Wonbin admits, smiling softly. “But I would have been ridiculously into you even if I didn’t get to kiss you. Even if I never got to kiss you! I mean you’re just so pretty and smart and I love when the professor calls on you because you always know the answer and your voice sounds so nice in the morning, but it’s sometimes so distracting that…”

“Wonbin,” you call. 

“I feel like I lose my focus in the class, which is part of why I sit in the front because I knew that if I could see you I would never be able to pay attention, which sucks because I don’t want to ruin my GPA, but…”

“Wonbin!”

You’re able to put a stop to the boy’s rambling by cupping his face, fighting a coo at the way his plush cheeks squish together. His mouth is left in a forced pucker, lips enticing you for a kiss. This time, you don’t resist.

“I like you, too,” you admit once you pull away, “as more than a project partner.”

Wonbin is silent for a moment, blinking rapidly behind his thick lenses. It seems to take a second for his brain to come back online, but when it does, his face blooms into a squished smile. 

“Does that mean you’ll be my second kiss, too?”

Your own chuckle surprises you, forcing you to release Wonbin’s face from your grasp. You don’t bother to fight your giggles, happy to notice that Wonbin has joined in on your laughter. 

“I’m pretty sure we’re beyond two kisses, but yes, Wonbin. That means I’ll be your second kiss. And if you play your cards right, I’ll be there for many more kisses after that.”

Wonbin smiles, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger. “I wish I could kiss you forever, until all that snow out there melts and forever after that.”

You can’t help but lean forward, placing a quick peck on Wonbin’s lips. 

“There, that was another one. I guess we still have a long way to go until the snow melts.”

Wonbin traps his bottom lip between his teeth, gaze stuck on your mouth. “I guess we better get started, then.”

[a1yx111]

Life Of The Party - Peter Parker

word count: 6579 warnings: swearing, and an almost broken hand summary: (y/n) Stark and Peter Parker are best friends, but he keeps his life at the Avengers Compound and his life at Midtown High separate.  Very separate. Until (y/n) convinces him to bring her to a party.

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[a1yx111]

My Princess | Peter Parker

masterlist found here

pairing - Peter x reader word count - 4,700 (this was so much longer than I planned holy moly) warnings - oral (f receiving) and fingering A/N - for the anon who requested! | Peter and reader are both 18 in this

summary - You cannot understand why Peter won’t spend the night with you. You don’t want to pressure him into something, but you’re pretty sure he wants what you do. So why is he always “too busy” to come over?

(part 2)

You hadn’t been dating Peter for very long, but you were already head-over-heels for him. You met when you were both sophomores in high school, started dating as juniors, and now you were graduated from Midtown. It was the summer before your freshman year of college, and you were itching to spend as much time with Peter as possible before the responsibilities of college caught up to you both.

Sometimes you worried you were being too clingy or too forward. You didn’t want to be a horny teenager, but you were now an 18-year-old, legal horny teenager. Every time you mentioned to Peter that you wanted him to come over at night, he always said he was too busy or couldn’t leave the house. When you suggested going to his place instead, he said May would never allow it. You didn’t even necessarily want to have sex with him. Obviously you would love if you did, but a part of you just wanted him to hold you in his arms while you fell asleep. Was that too much to ask?

It was Thursday, and you were over at Peter’s place, hanging out with him in his room. With the door open, you were both sitting on his bed playing video games. You sat between his legs, and his arms were around you, holding his controller in front of yours. He was much better than you at the game you were playing, but you were still having fun, and Peter loved hearing your little grunts of frustration every time you got shot.

“Dang it!” you shouted, throwing your controller on the bed when the game ended. “I’m trash.”

“You’re my trash,” Peter teased, placing a kiss to your cheek. You rolled your eyes and pushed his face away from you.

“Knock, knock!” May said, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m going to get Chinese. You two want anything?” You both nodded and told May your orders. “Be back in a half hour or so.” As soon as the two of you heard the front door open and close, you turned and straddled Peter’s hips.

He was not as innocent as people at school thought he was.

Peter kissed you hungrily, his grip on your hips tight. You pressed your hands to his chest, fisting his t-shirt in your hands. He bit your lower lip gently, causing you to gasp and part your lips. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, a satisfied grin on his lips. You moved your hands from his chest up to the back of his neck where you gripped his hair in your hands. You tugged at the strands, loving how his soft hair felt between your fingers. Peter lifted your shirt just enough for him to rest his palms against your bare skin. They were warm, burning deliciously against your skin. If his kiss alone made you feel this way, you couldn’t imagine how good having sex with him would be.

“Peter,” you said, your voice coming out in pants in between kisses.

“What is it, princess?” he asked. You hated when he called you princess, just because it made a warmth spread across your body and your thighs squeeze together.

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[a1yx111]

re-hash

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 0.9k WARNINGS: explicit sexual content | f!reader | established relationship | daddy kink | mild dacryphilia | size difference

JJ MAYBANK's no stranger to being called "daddy." It's practically one of the only things you wanna call him in bed, and something about it just hits. Maybe it's his own raging daddy issues, or the fact it signifies an authority figure, someone to look to. JJ likes calling the shots, and who better to call shots than Daddy? Before you'd introduced that petname to him, using it as a taunt was pretty common. In the midst of a fight, he'd tease his opponent with a little beckoning: "Tha's right, come to Daddy." If a variation was in order, he wasn't a stranger to switching it out for "Papa."

He didn't take into account how far it could go though. Addressing him as your daddy was commonplace, but while he's working on his bike, he gets introduced to something different.

"Pass me that, will you, duchess?" he asks, brows furrowed at the metal in concentration. He holds out his hand for you, and you walk while you read a little paperback book. The spine is weathered.

You hum confirmation, and toe over, plucking his tool from its location. Its hefty weight causes it to drop into his palm more than you meant to, but your focus is still on reading. "Here you go, pa."

He registers your words, and slows to a halt. Unlike him, you're invested in your story, index fingernail toying with your lip unconsciously. The crease in his brow deepens, tilting his head. "Uh," Looking at you through an eye because of the sun glare, upper lip raising to the corner of his nose like a curtain. "What was that, sugar?"

"Hm?" you question, raising your brows in question as you respond to his gaze with your own. "What'd I say?" You're not entirely sure what had occurred, the fresh words from your page still echoing in your mind.

"Called me 'pa.'" he reminds you, his twinge of southern twang apparent in his phrase. Unable to hold your eye contact, he glances down at the tool he fidgets with in his lap, picking off some dirt.

"I did?" In disbelief, you frown, a hint of embarrassment coloring your cheeks. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking—"

He shakes his head. Minutely disappointed you didn't double down. "No, s'fine. S'fine." He pouts his lips, and twitches his nose when he sniffs, scratching it with the back of his hand. "No big deal, sweet pea, I don't mind it." He returns to his bike.

Later on, he doesn't let you get away with playing dumb. "What was it that you called me earlier?" His arms shake with effort, holding himself over your head as his hips rock into you, your legs folded up on either side of him. "Huh? Duchess?"

"JJ!" you chide, but it comes out in a sultry whine, your body bobbing with his movements as his dick lodges all up in your insides. "What are you talking about?" There you go playing dumb, and he won't have it. Callused hand slots itself in the crook of your knee, hooking your leg over his shoulder to stretch you out. You yelp when his head hits a new and deeper angle inside you.

"Nah, nah, don't be like that." he snickers breathlessly. "What'd you call me earlier? Know you wanna say it. Lemme hear it, bae, c'mon," He goads you, and you can tell his accent is more defined at a time like this. It's mouth-watering. Or his long cock rearranging your insides is.

His blonde curls fall into your face as he looks down, watching your cunt slurp him up while you cry out each full sheath. Moans are practically shoved out of you, like there's no room to keep them inside when he buries himself to the balls in your little cunt. Worsening his pace, slapping skin on skin because you're not obeying him.

"JJ, it hurts! It hurts!" you sob, clutching onto the fabric of his side slit shirt he still wears. He pushes your hand off of him, picking himself up to sit on his knees. He tucks the hem of his top between his teeth, displaying his contracting abs as he gets into position. Briefly, you're granted a reprieve, but that's only because he's switching things up on you, slotting his hands under your hip bones to raise you, biceps swelling from the action. Desperately, you catch your ragged breath, until he handles you back onto his dick. He doesn't reintroduce you to inch after inch, no, he bottoms out straight away, plunging his length into you while yanking you into it. You thought it was hell before, now you're near tears, mindlessly reaching out to him as if to wordlessly ask for a breather.

He keeps his hardened concentration where your bodies conjoin, a ring of cream forming around his base, and he scoffs through his nose. You thrash, but you're spasming around him. "Guess this pussy can take some abuse, huh?" he asks rhetorically, muffled by the shirt between his teeth. "So squirmy. She's flexible, I'll give her that. How's about it, baby, wanna tell me now?"

You fist bangs against his forearm, taut from his hold on you, fingers digging into your flesh as you fight him. "Pa! Pa, please! Ugh, you're so mean!"

He drops his shirt so he can speak clearer, "Yeah, but your Pa fucks you good, huh? Right? Pa fucks you nice, and good." Deliberately, he rolls his abdomen, and in turn, pistoning his cock into you in way that has your lashes fluttering. His movements, forcing himself to be slow and steady, causes him to shake from effort, every muscle flexed as he fucks you. Your leg still haphazardly thrown over his shoulder, and he feels your own tremble travel from your core to your toes. "Say it. Say it or I swear I'll tear you in two."

"You fuck me good, pa, you fuck me nice and good. Nobody does it like you, daddy, I swear."

[a1yx111]

scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

-

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.” 

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin. 

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it. 

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch. 

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

[a1yx111]

oh my god

automatic.

pairing: mechanic!eren yeager x rich girl fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, vaginal sex, nipple play, fingering, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, praise, saliva, creampie, female ejaculation, mentions of family dynamic, awkward flirting, explicit language, is it considered car sex if they’re on it (?)

wc: 8.0k

summary: you wouldn’t consider your car breaking down on the way to your stepmother’s birthday dinner fate. there wasn’t much room for fate in a small-town.

a/n: oh good lordt this was WORK…thank you for beta reading sexyyyy ;) @bagsyy i love u mucho

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[a1yx111]

hi here’s an au where ash is going through his Edgy Phase in highschool and to everyone’s surprise, gets close with the sweet, preppy student council president and captain of the track and field team eiji. it’s like a….cottonball dating a Very Sharp Cactus :)

[a1yx111]

ATTACK ON TITAN CHAPTER 123 SPOILER WARNING (sorta)

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k well it didn’t rly turn out like i hoped it would and i prefer the sketch but here’s eren..

pov ur mikasa y’all 😯