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heejamas · 17 days ago

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──★ JUST LIKE HEAVEN (part. 2)

꒰ ‎﹒ pairing: jay x fem!reader … ﹒ 90s au, childhood friends to lovers, brother's best friend!jay, exes to lovers, fluff, smut … ﹒w/c: 15k synopsis: three years. that’s how long it had been since you last saw jay park. since spring break, since mixtapes and goodbye letters and i’ll write when i can. he had traded the life you knew for one on the road — guitars, neon lights, hotel rooms in cities you’d never been to. and it was 1994 now, you had your own place, your own rhythm. you had almost convinced yourself you were over it. until a concert. a song. a glance across a crowded room. and suddenly, nothing was over at all. ꒰ ‎﹒ warnings: unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), smut, mdni!!! 💿 % (◠﹏◠ ✿) #nowplaying: just like heaven - the cure | read part 1 here <3

it’s been three years since you last saw jay park. and somehow, it still feels like yesterday.

by 1994, everything feels different. you’re in your last year of college now. you know how to make your bed in the dark, how to survive on gas station coffee and a playlist that’s been the same since sophomore year. your books are underlined and frayed at the corners. the shoes by your door don’t match on purpose anymore. jungwon’s in college now, halfway through. he’s still figuring things out, but his voice has settled, and so has his energy. a little more grounded, a little less wild around the edges. he doesn’t call as much as he used to, but he writes sometimes. signs his letters with messy doodles and stories that sound like home: who’s dating who, which professor’s a nightmare. he’s talking about studying abroad next year. says it like a joke, but you know he’s serious.

your friends are scattered across cities and apartments, student loans and early jobs. some of them are in long-term relationships. some are engaged. some are already talking about house payments. they still write you, too. sometimes on postcards, sometimes in long emails typed from shared computers in dorm basements. you keep every one.

you've learned how to let go of things slowly. how to miss people quietly. how to stop expecting things to stay the same.

the world has changed since 1991. nevermind came out. so did automatic for the people. you cut your hair once, just to feel something. you fell in love with someone else for a little while, then out of it, and didn’t talk about it much after. the posters in your room have faded from the sun. you don’t live in the dorms anymore. you don’t listen to the same tapes every night. just most nights.

you don’t talk about jay. not really. not out loud.

he shows up in passing. in jokes jungwon makes. in old notes you kept but don’t read. in the way your breath still catches when someone plays just like heaven on a jukebox too late at night. you heard he’s playing in a band now. you don’t know much. just that sometimes, when you pass a flyer on a telephone pole or a crumpled gig poster in a café window, you pause a little longer than you mean to. and sometimes, just sometimes, you wish you see his name is on it.

sometimes, in the middle of doing something normal — folding laundry, walking back from class, standing in line for coffee — you remember that last afternoon.

spring break, 1991. the sky was overcast, warm in the way that made you think summer might arrive early. jay was leaving again. his band had just gotten picked up to open for someone bigger, someone you’d never heard of but pretended to recognize. he had a folded schedule in his back pocket, all scribbled in blue ink and crossed-out cities.

“you should come,” he said. “i’ll leave your name at the door.”

you smiled. nodded. said, “yeah, maybe.”

but you never did.

the next semester hit hard. papers stacked up, internships started, and time blurred. phone calls turned into postcards. then into silence. it wasn’t anyone’s fault, not really. he had tour dates. you had midterms. and something about trying too hard to hold on felt embarrassing after a while.

the last thing he sent was a letter.

you still remember the envelope. thin, bent at the corner, his handwriting slanted and messier than usual. you read it in your dorm room one night, sitting on the edge of your bed while your roommate snored into her pillow.

y/n,

i’m sorry i’ve been gone. i mean, i’ve been here, just not really anywhere at the same time. i thought i could keep up with everything. with touring, with writing, with remembering to breathe. but i keep messing it up. i keep losing time. i didn’t want to stop writing. i just didn’t know how to keep showing up if i wasn’t doing it right.

i still think about you. that’s probably unfair.

i hope you’re good. i hope you’re better than i’ve been.

— j

you kept that letter for too long. read it twice. three times. then put it away in a drawer and didn’t open it again.

after that, things just… faded. you didn’t write. he didn’t call. you heard from jungwon once that jay had been in town for a weekend but didn’t stop by. you told yourself that was fine. you told yourself it didn’t matter. until that night in 1993, in the back room of someone’s party. the music loud. drinks half-finished. two girls near the record player talking about some band they saw the week before. one of them said, “the guitarist was so hot, i swear he was flirting with me all night backstage.” and the other one laughed. “the one with the flannel? that’s jay, right?”

you froze. just for a second. and didn’t say anything. you didn’t ask if it was the same jay. you didn’t need to. you left early, walked home alone, told yourself it didn’t mean anything, that you were fine. that you’d grown out of it.

but some nights, when it’s too quiet to lie to yourself, you replay that last goodbye. the way he’d said, “you should come.” and the way you never did. you wonder if he waited. for how long. or if he stopped counting somewhere along the way.

and here you are, 1994, months from graduating, pretending the weight on your chest is just the pressure of adulthood. pretending you don’t still rewind that tape sometimes. pretending you haven’t memorized his handwriting even though you haven’t seen it in years.

you’re fine. you smile when people ask. you talk about plans. you fill your days with work and lists and voices that keep you forward-facing. but every once in a while, at the end of a song, or the bottom of a box, or when you see someone in a denim jacket that doesn’t quite fit, you feel it again.

you never really let go. you just learned how to carry it differently.

it started as something casual, something thrown into a friday night without much weight — just yunjin walking into the room with two tickets and that grin she always had when she knew you needed something to pull you out of your head. she said bon jovi was in town. said yeonjun already had his and that the three of you could go together. said she didn’t want to hear any excuses. and you didn’t have one, not really. so you nodded, and told yourself it would be good to get out. you hadn’t been to a concert in a while. not a big one, not the kind with lights and heat and voices shouting into the dark.

you didn’t think about jay right away. maybe just for a second. a flicker of memory at the name. you remembered him talking about bon jovi, you remembered that t-shirt you painted for him.

so you went. you got dressed. you wore your denim jacket and borrowed eyeliner from yunjin. yeonjun picked you both up in his dad’s car, windows down, music too loud. it was the kind of night that felt like it could belong to anyone. the arena was full. the floor vibrated before anything even started. people were already on their feet, beer sloshing from plastic cups, voices rising together like they’d been waiting all week just to scream. you found your seats, somewhere near the back but high enough to see the full stretch of stage. the lights dimmed. a ripple ran through the crowd, electric and hungry. and then the band was there. you let yourself enjoy the first songs. let the music rush through you, let the drums hit your chest. yunjin was dancing in her seat. yeonjun kept shouting lyrics half a beat too late. the night blurred around the edges in the way concerts always do.

and then came the next song. always. you recognized it before your brain caught up.

and that’s when you saw him.

your eyes were scanning the stage out of habit, and there he was. standing off to the left, half-shadowed in blue light. guitar slung low across his chest, hair falling forward a little as he tilted toward the mic. he looked older. not in a bad way, just real. flannel sleeves rolled to the elbows, hands steady on the strings. and then he opened his mouth and sang. not lead. just backing vocals.

your body didn’t move. couldn’t. it was like the floor had locked you in place. you stared. the rest of the crowd kept moving. the lights kept flashing. yunjin was still beside you, completely unaware. but your world had shrunk to the length of the stage and the shape of his shoulders and the way he closed his eyes when he hit a harmony.

jay. after all this time.

after postcards and silence and a hundred almost-memories you tried not to replay.

he was looking out into the crowd, past the lights, into the blur of people that you had somehow become a part of. and still, something in you reached for him. your fingers curled against your jacket, your breath caught halfway. you didn’t cry. not yet. you just kept staring, like maybe if you stayed very still, the universe would shift, and he’d look up, and see you. but he doesn’t see you. of course he doesn’t. you’re just one face in a crowd of thousands, too far up and too far back and too far gone. but when the last chorus of always starts, something in your chest breaks open anyway.

you hear him — clear, right through the echo and the noise. i know when i die, you’ll be on my mind, and i’ll love you, always.

your breath catches so hard you forget how to let it go.

your fingers find the edge of your seat. your knees lock, then unlock. and before you even know what you’re doing, you’re standing. slipping past yunjin’s knees, brushing yeonjun’s arm. you don’t look at either of them. you just go.

“where are you going?” yunjin’s voice follows you.

yeonjun chimes in too, confused. maybe a little annoyed. “dude. what—”

but you don’t answer. you can’t. you’re already down the stairs, already pushing through the hallway, the noise of the concert fading as you make your way out. the air outside is colder than you expected. your legs feel heavy. your hands are shaking, and you don’t stop walking until you’re alone. you take the long way home, even though the buses are still running. even though your shoes are not made for this. you walk like you’re trying to wear the feeling out of your body. like distance could make this less real.

and when you finally get to your apartment, you shut the door quietly behind you. you don’t turn on the lights. you just stand there, coat still on, bag still slung over your shoulder, and you let yourself feel it. you cry. you cry in that ugly, helpless way where your hands can’t keep up with your face, where your chest folds in on itself, where everything you’d been holding in since 1991 spills out like it never had anywhere to go. you cry because you saw him. because it’s been three years. because you didn’t know he would be there and now you don’t know how to be here without the weight of that moment pressed into your skin. and then you sit down on the floor, like your body doesn’t know what to do next.

you think about all the things that came flooding back the second you saw him: that christmas, the porch light, the sound of his voice in a letter, the way he used to rest his forehead against yours like it meant something. the lake house. the mixtape. the last kiss. you think about the letter he sent before it all went quiet. the way he said i still think about you, and how you never answered. you think about the day you heard someone else say his name and pretended it didn’t knock the air out of you.

you think about how, even after all this time, you still knew his voice the second you heard it. and somewhere under all of that, buried deep in the ache, there’s something like pride. because he made it. you always knew he could. he was good, really good. not just at guitar, but at meaning what he played. and now here he is, sharing a stage with one of the biggest bands in the world. and sounding like he belongs there. you’re happy for him. you are. but it still hurts. not because you wanted him to stay, but because some part of you never expected to lose him like this. not so completely.

you wipe your face with the sleeve of your jacket. pull your knees up to your chest. the room is quiet, save for the hum of the fridge and the faint buzz of a light somewhere down the hall. and in the middle of all that silence, your heart keeps repeating the same question, over and over. does he ever think of you when he sings it? you don’t know. maybe you’ll never know.

but tonight, for a moment, you were eighteen again. and that’s almost worse than forgetting.

you wake up with your face still puffy, the inside of your mouth dry, and the memory of always still echoing in your chest. you sit on the kitchen floor with yesterday’s clothes and a cold cup of coffee, and you think, i’ll just move on. you don’t mean to say anything about it. you don’t wake up planning to talk. but then there’s a knock and it’s yunjin, holding a paper bag and looking like she already knows you’re not okay. yeonjun’s behind her, carrying takeout cups and wearing his we come in peace t-shirt that always makes you laugh, even when you don’t want to.

they don’t press at first. they come in, settle onto your couch, act like it’s any other morning. yunjin puts music on low — something soft, r.e.m. — and yeonjun turns on the kettle like he lives there. you sit cross-legged on the floor in your hoodie, and after a few minutes of silence, yunjin says, “you didn’t come back.”

and that’s when it breaks, and you tell them everything. not the whole thing. not every letter, not every tape, not the lake or the kiss or the way he once said you make things feel easy. but enough for them to understand that it wasn’t just the shock of seeing him. it was everything around it. the time, the loss, the space between who you were and who he is now. they don’t interrupt. they don’t try to fix it. yeonjun just nods, real slow, and mutters, “damn.” yunjin reaches over and squeezes your hand.

hours pass, blurring into a quiet afternoon of them helping you pack away some of the memories, pausing only to put on some mindless show. they don't stay too long after that. eventually, they get up and start talking about dinner, about how you're going out whether you like it or not, and you let them take you along because the apartment feels too full of memory, and because they're trying, and because you've always been better at pretending when someone else is watching.

the diner they pick is on the corner near the old bookstore, the neon sign flickers a little, and you feel something in your chest settle as soon as you sit down. yunjin and yeonjun are talking, laughing quietly about someone from class, their legs brushing under the table in that way that makes you suspicious. they’re trying to act normal, but there’s something too soft in the way she hands him the salt. you watch them out of the corner of your eye, chewing on your straw, and finally smile for real for the first time all day.

but after a while, the noise gets too much again. you excuse yourself, and step out the front door, letting it shut behind you with a soft click. the sky’s dark now, but not cold. the street’s mostly empty and silent, except for a few cars passing, the occasional sound of a skateboard or a laugh from somewhere around the corner. you reach into your jacket pocket and pull out a crushed pack of cigarettes. one left. figures. you picked this habit up during finals last year. felt cool. felt like the end of a music video, like it did in the 80s. but now, in the 90s, they say it’ll kill you. but it shuts everything up for a second. so.

you don’t know how long you stand there like that, leaning against the brick wall, cigarette between your fingers, letting the night breathe around you. and then headlights hit the pavement, a car pulls into the lot — dark green, polished, the kind of old-school cool that feels deliberate but not forced. it’s a 1992 chevy camaro z28, all angles and muscle, the kind of car a guy buys when they’re not quite ready to settle down.

you watch without thinking. the door opens. a guy steps out, tall, black jacket, looks vaguely familiar. another follows, laughing, pulling off a beanie. you know them. not well. not personally. but you recognize them. because you’ve seen them before.

on stage.

the third door opens slower.

and there he is.

jay.

he steps out like he’s unsure of the ground under him. same flannel, sleeves rolled, hair a little shorter now, but still him. still the same shape of boy you kissed once in a field of stars, the same voice on every tape you kept hidden in your drawer.

he’s looking down at first, shoulders slightly hunched. and then he looks up. right at you. he freezes. you freeze too. for a second, maybe longer, neither of you moves.

the other guys are still talking, already walking toward the diner entrance. but jay doesn’t follow. he stays there, by the car, staring at you like you’re something he thought he made up. like seeing you breaks some rule. your cigarette burns down between your fingers. you forget to breathe. you forget to blink. and in the silence between one breath and the next, the years fold up like they never happened. it feels like you’re just two kids again.

the car door is still open behind jay, one of the other guys calling his name from a few steps ahead, not noticing, or maybe not caring, that he hasn’t followed. his eyes stay on you like they’re trying to make sure you’re not just a trick of the lights, something he pulled out of a dream too late at night. you don’t look away. you can’t.

he closes the door and takes a few steps forward. slow and careful, like you might run.

“hi,” he says, voice low, uncertain, like the word isn’t big enough for what he’s feeling.

“hi.” you say it back.

and then silence again. the kind that comes heavy and weird, pressing between the two of you like fog. you cross your arms. he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. a door opens somewhere behind you, someone laughs from inside the diner, but it doesn’t touch either of you. he clears his throat first.

“i forgot we were in your city,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “too many cities lately. i don’t even know what day it is half the time.”

you let out a small, dry laugh through your nose — not exactly mean, just tired. “yeah,” you say quietly. “i went to the show.”

his eyes widen a little, like the information hits harder than it should. “you—what?”

you nod once, slow. “i didn’t know you were part of the band. it was my friend’s idea. she dragged me out.” your voice is steadier than you expected. “i recognized your voice first. then i saw you.” he doesn’t say anything. his mouth opens slightly like he might, but nothing comes out. “you’re really good,” you add, softer this time. “i mean it.”

his shoulders drop a little. his mouth twists, not into a smile, exactly, but something close. “thanks.”

“i didn’t know you made it that far,” you say. “bon jovi.”

he exhales. his eyes are shining a little, and he looks down like he needs a second to get control of whatever’s happening inside him. “i didn’t know you’d be there.”

“me neither.”

he takes another step toward you. you don’t move. "i didn’t think i’d ever see you again," he says. his voice cracks at the end, just a little. "and now you’re here, you’re smoking."

you let out a low laugh, real this time. “yeah. turns out i have terrible coping mechanisms.”

he smiles, but it’s cautious. “i’m sorry,” he says suddenly. “for disappearing. for not writing. for—”

you hold up a hand, just slightly. “you don’t have to.”

“i want to.” his voice is steady now. quiet, but clear. he’s still standing a foot away, but it feels like he’s closer than that. “i wanted to reach out a hundred times,” he continues. “but it felt like too much. or not enough. and then time just… passed.”

you nod, slowly. “yeah. it does that.”

he looks at you again, really looks this time, like he’s trying to see who you became. “you look good,” he says. “different, but not really.”

you smile, even though it hurts a little. “you too. the flannel’s still doing the heavy lifting though.”

he laughs, finally, and it breaks something between you. for a second, you let it be easy again. he tilts his head, eyes soft. “can i—are you okay?” you hesitate. then nod. “i don’t know what this is,” he says. “i don’t know if i have the right to even be talking to you right now. but i’m really glad i saw you.”

you swallow around the lump in your throat. “me too.”

he takes a breath like he might say more, but the diner door swings open then, and yunjin leans out. “hey—are you—”

she sees him, and freezes. then looks at you. then back at him. her mouth opens like she wants to say something but she wisely doesn’t. “i’ll give you a minute,” she says, disappearing back inside without another word. you and jay both laugh under your breath at the same time. and just like that, it’s quiet again. he takes one more step forward, close enough now that you can see the curve of his lashes, the slight stubble on his jaw, his birth mark on the side of his neck. the way his hand twitches like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“can i give you a hug?” he asks, voice soft. unsure.

you nod. barely, but it’s enough. he moves toward you and wraps his arms around you, carefully at first, then tighter, like something in him breaks open when you don’t pull away. and you sink into it. not because you want to, but because your body does before your mind can think twice. his arms are strong, warmer than you remember. he smells like the kind of cologne you’d smell on someone walking by backstage, faint smoke and something sharp underneath it, but it’s still him, still familiar. you bury your face against his shoulder, and neither of you says anything for a long time. he pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. doesn’t let go.

“i think about you a lot,” he says, voice rough. “still.” you meet his eyes, breath shaky. he continues, “some songs... i write thinking about you. i don’t mean to. it just happens.”

you blink hard, chest tight again. “i liked always,” you say. “it’s a good one.”

he looks down, just a second. his hand still resting on your back. “yeah, i wrote that one,” he says. you stare at him for a beat. he shrugs a little. doesn’t say if he wrote that one thinking about you. but his eyes say more than his mouth ever could. you look away first. try to breathe again.

“how’s jungwon?” he asks suddenly, gently shifting the weight of the conversation.

you smile, genuine. “he’s good. third year. studying architecture. i don’t know where that came from.”

“he always liked building stuff. remember that weird tower he made out of cereal boxes?”

you laugh quietly. “yeah. and glue sticks. and half the living room rug.”

he smiles at that. the kind of smile that aches. “i missed him. i miss home sometimes.”

you nod. “me too.”

he looks at you again. more carefully this time. “what about you? last year, right?”

“yeah. almost done.”

“how’s it been?”

you shrug. “busy. normal. lonely, sometimes. i live alone now.”

he opens his mouth to answer, but the door behind him swings open again. two guys step out, the same ones from the car. one of them grins when he sees jay and calls out, “hey, you coming in or what?”

jay glances at them, then back at you. “i’ll be in soon,” he says. “ran into a long-time... friend.”

the pause in the middle of the sentence hangs there. not heavy. just strange. like both of you noticed it, but neither wants to name it. the other guy raises his eyebrows a little but doesn’t ask anything. they head back inside. the silence creeps back in. the door opens behind you this time. “hey,” yunjin says, stepping out. “we’re heading out. you coming?” yeonjun follows, one hand casually linked with hers. they both look at you, curious but not nosy, like they know enough not to ask. you glance at them, then at jay. then back.

you shake your head. “i think i’ll stay.”

yunjin squeezes your arm, just once, and nods. yeonjun just smiles, like he expected that answer all along. they wave as they walk away, hands still linked, disappearing around the corner. you turn to jay. he doesn’t say anything. just watches you. waiting. and somehow, without a word, you both understand the next step.

and that's when jay thinks about everything that happened in the last three years. he didn’t mean for it to happen the way it did.

at first, he thought he could balance everything — school, the band, writing, you. he really thought he could make it all work. but time moved differently back then. and he was always chasing something. a setlist. a deadline. a bus that left too early or too late. the band got serious quicker than any of them expected. one night they were playing to twenty drunk kids in someone’s garage and the next they were opening for someone bigger, someone with real equipment and real fans. people started showing up. listening. remembering his name. it was addictive but also terrifying.

college faded into the background. it didn’t make sense anymore. he stopped going to most of his classes. said he’d take a semester off, then another. his parents were furious at first. called it reckless. stupid. said he was wasting potential. but then they came to a show. just one. they saw the way the crowd reacted, the way he moved with his guitar like it was part of him, like the music wasn’t something he made but something he became. after that, they softened. not completely, not all at once, but enough.

he kept going. city after city. song after song. sleeping in vans, missing birthdays, forgetting what day it was. he lost track of holidays. of phone calls. of you.

but he thought about you all the time.

he thought about you when the van was too quiet and everyone else was asleep. he thought about you when he saw lights flickering in some motel parking lot and it reminded him of that night in the lake. he thought about you when he wrote something too soft, too raw, and didn’t know why it mattered until your name crossed his mind halfway through the chorus. he thought about you every time they played near your state and he almost said something to the manager. almost asked if you’d be there. he thought about you every time he rewound that tape you gave him, the one with your handwriting on the cover and that one song you swore would always make you think of summer.

he started writing that last letter months before he sent it. scratched out versions of it in different notebooks, napkins, corners of lyric sheets. tried to get the words right and never did. everything sounded like a lie, or worse, like a goodbye. and he didn’t want it to be that. but he also didn’t know how to keep pretending it wasn’t over. and when he finally wrote it, he kept it folded in his bag for three days before mailing it. didn’t sleep that night. didn’t tell anyone. he didn’t expect you to write back. but part of him always hoped you would.

he told himself he was doing what he was meant to do. that the trade-off was worth it. that this life — the shows, the travel, the applause — it had to be enough. but then the lights would go down at the end of a set, and someone would ask if he was coming out for drinks, and he’d find himself standing by the door too long, thinking of you. of your voice. of how you said maybe when he asked you to come see him play. he told himself you were probably happy. probably better off. probably didn’t think about him the same way anymore.

and then, three years later, he walked out of a car in a city he didn’t even realize was yours. and there you were, smoking a cigarette, looking at him like he’d never really left. like he was still someone you knew. and everything inside him just stopped. because it had been three years, and somehow, it still felt like you were the only part of his life that had ever been quiet enough to feel real.

he watches your friends walk away until they’re out of sight. the parking lot quiets down again, humming with the low buzz of neon and leftover conversation.

he turns to you. “do you wanna get out of here?” he asks, like it’s nothing. like it’s not everything.

you look at him for a second. just long enough for it to matter. “yeah,” you say. “i do.”

he nods, like he wasn’t expecting a yes. like part of him already had one foot back inside the diner. you both start walking toward the car, the one he came in, but he hesitates. “this isn’t mine,” he says, gesturing vaguely. “we’re leaving tomorrow morning. early. that’s the drummer’s car.” he shoves his hands in his pockets, looking down for a second before glancing at you again. “my car’s at the hotel. about twenty minutes that way.”

“my place is closer. we can walk, if you want.” you don’t know why you say it. not exactly. the words come out easy, but they sit strange in your chest. there’s no plan. no reason. no expectation. just this pull that says don’t let him go yet.

he nods. “okay.”

the walk starts quiet. the streets are mostly empty, the kind of quiet you only get in a small city late at night. the air is cooler now and makes your skin feel too tight. you pull your jacket tighter around you. he notices. he doesn’t say anything. just steps a little closer. your shoulders brush, just slightly. neither of you moves away. you pass under a streetlamp. it hums above you. you glance at him out of the corner of your eye — his jawline in the yellow light, the way his hands are still tucked into the sleeves of his flannel like he’s holding something in.

“i don’t know what to say to you,” you admit quietly. not looking at him.

“me neither,” he says, almost instantly. “it’s weird.”

“yeah.”

“but not bad.”

you glance up at him but he’s already looking at you. you nod. “no. not bad.”

you don’t speak again for a while. the silence between you isn’t empty, though. it’s full of everything you both remember and everything you’re both afraid to ask. every few steps, your arms brush again. sometimes your hands, and it doesn’t feel like an accident. but it doesn’t feel like a decision either.

you turn onto your street, point out the building without saying anything. he follows you up the front steps like it’s the most natural thing in the world. you hear your keys in your hand before you realize you took them out. you stop in front of the door. and that’s when it really settles in — the closeness. the possibility. the strangeness of all of this.

you haven’t seen him in years, you barely know him now, but you used to. you really, really used to. and standing here, in front of your door, you’re not sure which version of him is looking back at you — the boy you kissed in the dark, or the man who sang backup on a stadium stage. maybe both. maybe neither.

you unlock the door with a quiet click, push it open slowly, and step inside first. you don’t turn on the overhead light, just the small lamp by the bookshelf. your place smells like lavender and the faint trace of the incense you burned the night before. you kick off your shoes, he copies you. he steps in carefully, like he’s not sure if he should be there, like he might break something by breathing too loud. his eyes move slowly across the room — the record player near the window, a stack of books with a coffee mug balanced on top, a blanket half-fallen from the couch.

he lets out a soft breath, almost a laugh. “you made it look like you.”

you glance at him, eyebrow raised. “what does that mean?”

he shrugs, walking a little deeper into the room. “i don’t know. it just... feels like you live here. it’s not just a space. it’s yours.”

you smile, small. close the door behind him. “thanks, i think.”

he turns back toward the shelf, fingertips brushing over the spines of the books, the edge of a candle, the side of your old walkman. he pauses. his hand stops at a cassette case, faded, slightly cracked at the corner, label smudged from years of being touched. he pulls it out gently. the handwriting is his.

he looks at you, eyes soft. “you kept this?”

you nod, slow. “yeah.”

he stares at it for a second longer, then sets it back down, careful. when he turns back toward you, his face is quieter than before, like something's settled. “do you... wanna talk?” he asks. his voice isn’t pushing. just curiosity and hope. “like—about everything. put things in order.”

you blink once, then nod. slow. “if you want to,” you say. “if you’re comfortable.” he nods too, eyes still on you. you motion to the couch, then the kettle. “you can sit, or make tea, whatever makes it feel easier. make yourself at home.” he lets out a little breath at that, the corner of his mouth tugging into a barely-there smile. he sits on the couch and watches as you move through the space. you light the kettle on the stove. he watches your hands. “so,” you say eventually, turning back to face him, leaning against the counter. “how did you end up playing with bon jovi?”

he huffs out a breath, eyes widening slightly. “honestly? i still don’t totally know.”

you raise an eyebrow and he shrugs. “you auditioned?”

he nods. “twice. the second time, i played a song i wrote. didn’t say it was mine. they figured it out later. he liked that too.” he pauses. “it happened fast. i didn’t expect it.”

you tilt your head. “but you wanted it.”

“yeah,” he says, looking down at his hands. “i think i did. i mean, of course i did. we were opening for a few mid-sized acts. nothing huge. a guy who did lighting for their crew saw us in a club, told someone higher up that our guitarist was ‘some kid with way too much emotion in his fingers.’” he rolls his eyes at that. “i guess jon liked that.” you walk over slowly, curling your legs under you as you sit across from him. he shifts just slightly to face you. “so,” he says, matching your tone. “what about you? how were the last three years?”

you hesitate. not because you don’t have answers — but because none of them feel simple. you shrug. “good in pieces.” he watches you for a second. not pushing, but not letting the question disappear completely either. you offer a half-smile. “i don’t think i figured anything out, if that’s what you’re asking.”

he nods. “i wasn’t.”

a quiet settles in again. and then he says suddenly: “i missed you.” with no hesitation. like the words had been sitting too long and couldn’t stay still anymore.

you really look at him. “i missed you too.”

his eyes soften again. he leans forward just slightly, elbows on his knees. “sometimes i used to wonder if i made it all up. that summer. the way we were. if i just remembered it better than it really was.”

you shake your head, sure. “you didn’t.”

“you were always in the back of my mind,” he says. “even when i didn’t want to admit it. especially then.”

you bite the inside of your cheek. “i thought about you a lot. more than i wanted to.”

you both sit in it for a moment — the weight of three years, of silence, of almosts that never got their ending. the kettle starts to hiss, soft and steady in the background, but neither of you moves. he leans back a little, one arm draped lazily across the back of the couch, his hand only inches from your shoulder now. “i thought maybe we’d bump into each other again. and i hated that. the idea that it’d take chance, not effort.”

“but you’re here,” you say, quiet.

“yeah.” he breathes out. “and i don’t want to leave this time without doing it right.”

you glance at him. “i don’t know what doing it right means,” you admit.

he smiles, eyes tired and full. “me neither. but we could try.”

you look down at your hands, then at his fingers brushing slightly against the fabric of the couch. your heart’s louder now. you nod, barely. “we could try.”

you don’t know when it happens exactly, the shift. maybe it’s the quiet. maybe it’s the way the room’s only lit by the soft glow of the lamp. maybe it’s the weight of his words still floating between you. but suddenly, you’re looking at him, really looking at him, and he’s already looking at you. his gaze doesn’t move — not to your hands, not to the floor like it used to when he got nervous. it’s steady now, like he’s memorizing something. like he doesn’t want to miss a single detail. your heart stumbles a little. and neither of you looks away, and the moment stretches. his knee is brushing yours. his hand still resting on the couch cushion. your whole body feels too aware of itself — your fingers, your lips, your throat.

the kettle screams.

you both flinch, not much, just enough to break the spell, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“right,” you say, standing up quickly. “tea.”

he stays on the couch, watching you move across the room. you flick off the stove, pour the water into the mugs you grabbed earlier. you add honey to yours, then add some to his, too. you bring the mugs back, hand him his. he smiles when he takes it. that same crooked, tired smile you remember.

you sit again, curled into your side of the couch, feet tucked under you. “so,” you say, gently blowing over the rim of your cup. “rockstar life, huh?”

he really laughs, for the first time tonight. “i mean, it’s not exactly groupies and private jets,” he says. “sometimes it’s tuna sandwiches at truck stops and sharing hotel rooms with people who snore like they’re dying.”

you snort. “glamorous.”

“deeply.”

“do you like it?”

he thinks for a moment. “i do. most days. some days it’s exhausting. some days i feel like i’m just chasing noise.”

you nod, sip your tea. “do you ever get lonely?” you ask, quiet.

he looks at you. “yeah,” he says. “a lot more than i thought i would.”

you both finish your tea slowly, the conversation drifting here and there. small questions, quiet answers, tiny pieces of each other being carefully returned. it’s not like before. but it’s not not like before either.

you place your mug down gently on the coffee table. he does the same. your hands brush. just barely. you start to move yours away out of instinct, but then you feel his fingers wrap gently around your wrist. you look up. he’s already looking at you again. his thumb brushes the inside of your wrist, where your pulse is loud. louder than you want it to be.

he leans in, not quite closing the space, but almost. “you still do that thing,” he says, voice low. “twist the sleeve of your sweater when you’re nervous.”

you glance down at your hand. he’s right. you look back up at him. his face is so close now you can see the faint scar near his eyebrow, the one from when jungwon pushed him off his bike in eighth grade. you could reach for him. you could close the distance. you could kiss him.

you don’t move, not at first. you just sit there, watching him, feeling his hand warm against your wrist, his thumb brushing once against your skin like he’s asking something without saying it. the distance between you is nothing now, and he’s close enough that you can see the way his lashes fan downward, the faint crease between his brows, the softness in his expression that wasn’t there when he first stepped out of that car. his hand moves slowly, from your wrist to your jaw, fingertips grazing up the side of your neck. his touch is careful, your breath catches, and he feels it, you know he does, but he doesn’t stop. his palm settles against your cheek, his thumb resting just below your eye.

he tilts his head slightly, eyes flicking down to your mouth, and then he leans in. his lips meet yours in a kiss that feels like an exhale, full of everything that’s gone unsaid. he kisses you like he’s afraid to startle you, like he’s still checking if you’ll let him stay. and you do, you kiss him back without hesitation, your hand moving to his chest like you need something to hold onto. his breath hitches and he shifts closer, legs brushing yours, the heat of his body pulling you in. his other hand moves to your waist, anchoring. you tilt your head, your lips parting under his, and that’s when the kiss deepens.

you feel him everywhere — in the way his thumb strokes your cheek, in the press of his chest against yours, in the gentle sound he makes when you pull him in a little closer. the world narrows. the couch disappears. the years fall away. there’s only him, only this, only the you falling into together like no time has passed at all.

when he finally pulls back, just enough to breathe, he doesn’t go far. his forehead rests against yours. your noses brush. his hand stays on your cheek. your eyes stay closed.

“i’ve wanted to do that since i saw you standing outside the diner,” he says, voice low, breath warm against your skin. “actually, since before that.”

you smile, overwhelmed, a little breathless. “i know.”

you open your eyes to find his already on you. wide, tender, shining. “i didn’t think i’d ever get the chance again,” he adds.

you reach up, fingers finding the side of his neck. “you have it now.”

and he kisses you again, no pause this time. his mouth finds yours with more confidence now, more feeling. the way you mold into him is instinctive, your hand slides up into his hair, his fingers spread across your back. the kiss is soft, but it’s not shy. every press of his lips says i missed you, every shift of your body says i’m still here.

his lips don’t leave yours for long. there’s no rush, but there’s urgency, not of time, but of want. of having waited too long and not knowing how to say it any other way. his hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. he shifts closer, his body pressing into yours with a kind of hesitation that disappears as soon as you don’t stop him. your knees bump. your hands move without thinking, gripping his shirt, pulling him closer. you feel the weight of him then — not just the physical, but everything he’s holding.

he leans into you, and you lean back, and the cushions give under your weight as he gently guides you down, your back meeting the couch, his body following. he hovers over you for just a moment, eyes meeting yours like he’s asking again, silently, if this is okay. and you answer the only way you can: you pull him in.

his mouth finds yours with more fire this time. it’s still careful, still steady, but there's a heat now that wasn't there before, something that builds in the way he presses you into the couch, the way his hand finds your waist, the way he exhales against your lips. you feel the weight of his body above you, his knee slipping between yours, the warmth of him sinking into your skin. your hands explore him like you’re tracing something familiar and new at the same time — the slope of his shoulder, the nape of his neck, the muscles shifting under your palms.

he pulls back just slightly, mouth still close, breath catching as he looks down at you, and then he says it, voice low and rough and full of awe, “god, you’re so beautiful.” you inhale sharply, eyes locking with his. he kisses the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw. “always were,” he murmurs between kisses. his lips trail lower, grazing your neck, making your whole body tighten. “you don’t even know what you do to me,” he whispers.

your breath hitches. your fingers tighten around his back. he kisses you again, deeper this time, the kind of kiss that makes you forget where you are. every shift of his body against yours makes your skin burn in the best way. there’s something new here, a closeness that’s never been touched before, but was always waiting. you find it overwhelming, but it’s not scary. his hands move to your hips, grounding you, holding you like he doesn’t want to let go — like he couldn’t, even if he tried. his fingers dig in just slightly, and it sends a shiver through your body. you exhale, a soft, breathy sound you didn’t mean to let out, and he hears it.

he kisses you harder. his mouth pressing into yours like he’s starving for it now. you feel his tongue slide against yours and you moan softly into his mouth, and that’s when you feel his hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, skin against skin, warm and steady and reverent. he groans when he touches you. low, like it’s involuntary, like just feeling you beneath his hands undoes something in him. you reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging gently, messing it up in a way that makes him hiss under his breath. he leans into it, hips pressing forward, his body sinking further into yours, like he needs to feel you everywhere at once. his knee shifts between your thighs, pressing in. you don’t know if he means to do it or if it’s just instinct, but it sends a wave of heat through your core that makes your back arch slightly into him. you let out a breathless moan and your hips twitch without meaning to, and he feels it. his breath stutters, his hands holding tighter.

“fuck,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours. “you make the prettiest sounds.”

you let out another soft, shaky moan when his thigh presses in again, more deliberate this time, like he’s testing something, like he’s trying to see how far he can take you with just this. your head spins. his hands slide further up under your shirt, fingers spreading across your waist, his palms dragging up the bare skin of your stomach. you gasp softly when the cool air of the room hits the warmth of your skin, and he leans back just enough to look at you. his lips are parted. his eyes heavy and full of something dark and warm and wanting.

“can i take this off?” he asks, voice low, almost careful. “just your shirt.”

you nod, but it’s not enough — you’re already whispering, “yeah. yes. it’s okay.”

he lifts it slowly, his fingers brushing your ribs, the fabric sliding up over your head and landing somewhere behind the couch. his eyes drop to you, his gaze moving over your chest, your stomach, the way your skin is flushed and rising with every breath.

“jesus,” he breathes out, more to himself than to you. “you’re... fuck.”

you can’t look away from him. the way he’s looking at you, like he’s not sure if he should touch you or fall to his knees, makes your whole body ache. he leans in again, this time slower. he kisses your collarbone. the center of your chest. his hands still holding your waist, guiding you gently as his mouth maps a path down the center of you. your hips move again, and his thigh finds its place between yours, pressing up, grinding just enough to pull another sound from you, one that surprises even you.

“that’s it,” he whispers against your skin, one hand sliding up to cup your ribcage. “just like that. let me hear you.”

you feel it all. his body above yours, your legs tangled under him. the weight of his thigh against your center, the warmth of his mouth, the hands that can’t seem to stop touching you. you don’t know where this is going yet — not fully — but right now, it’s everything. right now, it’s his breath on your skin, your hands in his hair, your lips swollen from kissing him over and over again. it’s the years that fell away the second he touched you. it’s the way he’s looking at you now, like you’re the only thing that’s ever made sense.

his hands never stop moving, dragging along your sides, your stomach, and he leans back just slightly, just enough to take you in again, his eyes dark and full of something that makes your skin heat under the weight of it. his fingers slide up one strap of your bra and down your arm, until the thin band slips from your shoulder. he presses his mouth there immediately — warm kisses, one after the other, his lips brushing over the new skin, then he bites gently, just enough to make you gasp, and he groans at the sound.

you moan softly, helplessly, when his mouth gets close to your breast, and that’s when he stops. just for a second. he lifts his head and looks down at you, breathing heavy, his hands still firm on your waist.

“do you really want this?” he asks, voice low and serious.

you nod right away, then say it out loud, because you want him to hear it. “i��ve been waiting for this for a really long time, actually.”

his eyes flash, jaw tightening, like the words hit deeper than they should. he groans, low in his throat, and then he’s on you again, kissing your neck, your collarbone, and you feel his breath, warm and fast, as he speaks between kisses. “yeah?” he murmurs, voice rough. “what exactly have you been waiting for?”

you let out a breathy laugh, your fingers digging into his back without thinking, and whisper, “i was waiting for you to make me yours.”

he curses under his breath, something sharp and guttural, and you barely have time to react before he’s reaching behind you, tugging your bra down with a kind of desperation that makes your head spin. “fuck,” he mutters, eyes locked on yours. “i’m gonna make you mine, then.”

his touch changes — still gentle, but firmer now, more certain. he cups your breast like he’s wanted to for years, his thumb brushing your nipple before he leans in and takes it into his mouth. your back arches without meaning to, a moan slipping out of your lips as your hand flies to his hair again, pulling slightly, needing something to hold onto. he groans into your skin, the vibration making you shiver. his other hand slides under your back, supporting you, keeping you close. your hips roll instinctively beneath him, your legs parting more, needing more of him everywhere. your nails drag across his back, not too hard, but enough to make him breathe harder, to make him growl softly against your chest.

“so fucking perfect,” he murmurs. “can’t believe you’re really here. can’t believe i get to touch you like this.”

his voice is raw now, every word soaked in years of longing and frustration and heat. and you’re melting under him, body buzzing, mind gone, skin on fire. his mouth is still on your breast, warm and wet, his tongue circling your nipple in slow, maddening strokes before he sucks it into his mouth again. and while he’s doing it, you feel him shift his hips down into you, slow and deliberate, grinding his hardness right where you need him most.

your whole body jerks in response, hips tilting up into him, a sharp, breathless moan leaving your lips before you can stop it. his thigh is still between your legs, but now his cock is pressing right against your core, even through the layers of clothing — and it’s too much, not enough, exactly what you’ve been aching for. he keeps moving his hips, slow, hard, dragging himself against you like he knows exactly how close you are to falling apart.

you whimper again, high and needy, your hands clutching at his shoulders, at his back, at anything you can reach. “jay,” you breathe, voice thin and shaky, “please.”

he pauses, not pulling away, just lifting his head slightly from your chest to look at you. his eyes are dark, pupils blown, lips parted and wet. “please what, love?” he asks, his voice low and rough and teasing. he knows. of course he knows. but he wants to hear it.

you stare up at him, completely undone and open. “i want you,” you whisper. “i want you so bad it hurts.”

his breath leaves him in a rough exhale, and before you can say anything else, his hands are on your waist, lifting you and pulling you up onto his lap, your thighs straddling him, your chest still bare against his flannel. you can feel how hard he is now, pressed right between your legs, and the friction makes your head spin.

he kisses you hard, deep and messy, all teeth and tongue and want, and then he pulls back just enough to murmur, “tell me where.”

you blink, dazed. “bedroom. down the hall. second door.”

he stands with you still wrapped around him like it’s nothing, like he was meant to carry you. you hold onto him, arms around his neck, mouth brushing his jaw as he moves fast, focused, straight down the hall. he kicks the door open gently with his foot and walks you inside, setting you down carefully on the bed like you’re something he doesn’t want to drop, like he’s still trying to be careful even when he’s about to lose control.

“fuck,” he breathes, eyes raking over you as he stands over the edge of the bed. “look at you.”

he crawls over you slowly, hands braced on either side of your head, and starts pressing kisses to your skin again — your jawline, your cheek, the soft space behind your ear, down your throat. every kiss is hot, open-mouthed, a little desperate. he whispers between them, voice hoarse.

“so perfect.”

“been dreaming of this.”

“can’t believe i get to have you like this.”

his hands roam over your ribs, your sides, your thighs. his body never leaves yours. every part of him is pressed to you, and you’re burning, pulsing, so far gone you can barely form thoughts. your fingers dig into his back, his arms, his hair, anywhere you can pull him closer. you moan again when he kisses the space between your breasts, grinding into you through his jeans, and he growls softly at the sound, kissing lower, biting gently at your hipbone.

“gonna make you feel so fucking good,” he whispers against your skin. “gonna take my time with you. finally.”

you arch into him, legs falling open wider, and he groans, pulling back just enough to look at you — all flushed and panting beneath him, your eyes glassy, lips kiss-swollen.

“you’re mine tonight,” he says, voice wrecked. “every inch of you.”

you nod, breathless, your whole body trembling. “i’m yours,” you whisper.

and that’s all he needs. he pulls back just enough to sit on his knees between your legs, breathing hard, his hands moving to the buttons of his flannel. his eyes don’t leave yours as he pulls it off slowly, letting the fabric fall to the floor beside the bed. underneath, there’s just a worn black t-shirt and you watch, wide-eyed and barely breathing, as he lifts the hem and peels it off too.

he’s lean, all muscle and sharp lines, but not in a showy way. more like someone who’s lived in his body, worked in it, played night after night with a guitar strapped across his chest. his stomach is tight, his arms strong, his collarbones prominent in the low light. and god, he’s beautiful. you swallow, your fingers twitching against the sheets, and he sees the way you react to him, the way your eyes move over every inch of his chest like you can’t help it. like you’ve been thinking about this too long not to stare now that he’s finally in front of you like this.

he smirks, just a little. not cocky. just knowing. “you okay, love?” he asks, voice low and teasing.

you nod quickly, your lips parting around a soft gasp when he leans down again, mouth ghosting over your collarbone. “you’re even better than i imagined,” you whisper, like it slips out before you can stop it.

he groans at that, something low and deep, and kisses you again, slow and hot and full of tongue, before he starts moving lower. his hands find your waist again, fingers sliding under the hem of your pants. he kisses your stomach once, just above the waistband, then looks up at you through his lashes.

“can i?” he asks, voice a little rough now, like he’s holding back.

you nod, and your voice is small but certain. “yeah. please.”

he hums like the answer physically affects him, and starts pulling your pants down slowly, dragging the fabric over your hips, your thighs, down your calves, until they’re gone. you’re left in just your underwear, legs spread for him, chest rising and falling fast, and he sits back for a second just to take it in. he lets out a sharp, helpless sound when he sees you.

“fuck, baby,” he says, eyes roaming. “look at you.”

his hands come to your thighs, thumbs brushing the inside where your skin is already hot and shaking. he leans in, kisses one side gently, then the other — slow, open-mouthed kisses to the softest parts of you, places no one’s ever touched the way he does now. his lips find the crease of your thigh, right where it meets your center, and you gasp, your hips jumping slightly. he chuckles against your skin, breath hot.

he kisses you through your underwear next, a soft press of his mouth right where you need him most, and it makes your entire body jolt. you whine, your hand flying to his hair, tugging lightly. he moans at the contact, at the scent of you, his nose pressing lightly against the fabric. and then he breathes you in, slow and deep.

“jesus,” he mutters against you. “you smell so fucking good.” his hands tighten on your thighs. he presses another kiss through the damp fabric, then another, dragging it out, letting you feel every bit of the tease. your hips roll again, trying to get more, chasing the heat of his mouth, and he just smiles. “fuck, baby, you don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he says softly, almost like he’s in awe.

you can’t respond, not with real words, just a soft, shaky moan and your fingers digging deeper into his hair as he keeps kissing between your legs, building the pressure, praising you under his breath like it’s a prayer. your legs are trembling now, thighs twitching with every breath. he groans into you, deep and low, like he’s losing his mind just from being this close. then his hands slide up your thighs, slow and firm, curling around your hips as he pulls his mouth back just enough to look at you.

“can i take these off?” he asks, voice dark and tender at the same time, like he’s already halfway gone.

you nod fast, desperate, breathless. “please.”

he hums at the way you say it, like you’re giving him everything he’s ever wanted. and then, slowly, he hooks his fingers into the sides of your underwear, and pulls. he watches as he drags them down your legs, never breaking eye contact for too long. he tosses the fabric aside without care, like nothing matters but you now, here, like this. his eyes drop to your core, and he groans, deep in his chest. “fuck,” he breathes. “you’re so wet already.”

your cheeks burn, but you don’t hide. you can’t, not when he looks at you like that, like you’re sacred.

he kisses your thighs again, then lower. kisses your mound. kisses the soft skin right beside where you need him most. teasing, worshipping. and then finally he leans in and licks a slow, flat stripe from your entrance up to your clit. your whole body arches. your hand flies to his hair again and you let out a sound that’s not even a moan — just a desperate breath, cut short by how hard it hits.

he groans into you. “that’s it,” he murmurs, licking again, slower this time. “that’s what i wanted.”

his hands slide under your thighs and hold you open, steady, as he buries his face between your legs. his tongue moves like he knows you already, like he’s been dreaming about this for years — licking, sucking, teasing. he focuses on your clit in soft, steady circles, then moves down, tongue fucking you, groaning every time you moan for him. you can’t stop moving. your hips grind against his mouth, your thighs tense, your stomach pulling tight. and he just holds you there, letting you fall apart in his hands.

“you taste so good, baby,” he whispers between strokes. “so sweet. fuck.”

you whimper, fingers tangled in his hair, the pressure building so fast you don’t know what to do with it. he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t even slow down. his mouth stays on you, perfect and hot and overwhelming, his hands holding your thighs open as he works you open with his tongue. when you moan his name again, sharp and breathless, “jay—,” he groans like it physically affects him, like it’s the only thing he ever wants to hear again.

“that’s it,” he says. “say my name again. let me hear you.”

every movement feels intentional — like he’s learning what makes you whimper, what makes your legs shake, what makes you cling tighter to his hair and moan his name like it’s the only thing you’ve ever known how to say. his mouth is relentless, warm and wet and perfect. his hands hold you firm like you might slip away if he lets go. the coil inside you is tightening fast now, heat building between your hips, up your spine, down your thighs. your whole body arches into him, and he groans at the way you move against his mouth.

“you’re doing so good for me, baby. come on. let go,” he murmurs, voice low and wrecked. you gasp, your fingers fisting the sheets now, eyes squeezed shut, heart pounding. and then his mouth sucks your clit just right and your whole body shatters. the orgasm hits hard.

your back arches off the bed, a cry ripping from your throat as the pleasure rolls through you in waves. your legs tremble, toes curling, thighs squeezing around his head, and he just keeps licking you through it, gentler now, helping you ride it out, coaxing every last bit of it from your body with his mouth. “fuck,” you breathe, over and over, your voice shaking.

he finally pulls back when you’re twitching, your body too sensitive, your breath caught somewhere between a moan and a laugh. he kisses your thighs again, affectionate, almost reverent, and then he sits up. his face is flushed, lips swollen, chin wet with you. he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room that matters. and then, slowly, he reaches down and undoes his jeans. you watch, still trembling, chest rising and falling too fast. your eyes follow his hands as he pushes the denim down his hips, revealing the outline of his cock through his boxers — hard, straining, undeniable. he kicks the jeans off, and then he just stands there for a second, breathless, staring down at you with something between hunger and awe.

he leans over you again, one hand braced beside your head, the other still at the waistband of his boxers, pausing for a moment as his eyes roam over your face, your body, your chest rising and falling from the high he just gave you. you meet his gaze, and there’s something new in it now — something softer than before. not lust, not quite. something closer to reverence.

“i’ve thought about this,” he says, voice low, breath shaky. “so many times. more than i ever should’ve.”

you reach up, your hand cupping his cheek, fingers brushing along his jaw, grounding him. “me too.”

he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for a second. then he kisses you again like he’s trying to tell you everything he can’t quite say out loud yet. you taste yourself on his tongue and you moan into his mouth. he pulls back just enough to whisper, “i missed you so fucking much—” his hips grind against yours through the thin fabric still between you, “you. all of you.”

“i missed you too,” you whisper, and it comes out raw and honest.

he kisses your cheek, your jaw, your neck. then he finally pushes his boxers down, and you feel the heat of him against your thigh, thick, hard and heavy. you look down and your mouth goes dry. it’s overwhelming, in the best way — not just the size of him, but what it means. that he’s here. with you, like this.

he moves between your legs, settling into the space that always felt like his, and pauses. “you sure?” he asks again, his voice quieter now. steadier.

“yes,” you say, without hesitation. “please.”

he groans, and reaches down, running the head of his cock through your slick, coating himself in you. the pressure makes you gasp again, your hips twitching toward him, desperate to feel him where you’ve needed him most. he lines himself up, eyes never leaving yours, and then he pushes in slowly and carefully, letting you feel every inch as he stretches you open. your mouth falls open in a silent moan, your back arching, hands flying to his shoulders. he curses low under his breath, jaw tight, eyes squeezed shut for a second.

“fuck,” he breathes. “you feel like heaven. you feel... fuck, baby.” your fingers dig into him as he bottoms out, buried completely inside you, and he stays there for a moment — not moving — just breathing with you, forehead resting against yours. “you okay?” he murmurs.

you nod. “perfect.”

he starts to move, slow at first, with deep, steady thrusts that make your breath stutter with every roll of his hips. the friction is perfect, the heat between you unbearable. every sound he makes — every grunt, every whisper of your name — pushes you closer to the edge again. his hands roam constantly, like he can’t choose where to touch because he wants all of you at once. he kisses you between thrusts, muttering things into your mouth like so fucking good, and i missed you, and you were always mine.

you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him deeper, tighter, and he groans like he’s breaking apart. his rhythm builds, his hips slamming into yours with more force, more urgency. it’s not rough, not careless, but it’s just that he needs this. needs you, every part of you, and you need him too. the sounds of skin and breath and moans fill the room, tangled with his name on your lips over and over again. “jay—fuck—”

he kisses you hard, messy and open-mouthed, his tongue sliding against yours as he pounds into you, the headboard knocking gently behind you, his hands everywhere. one grips your thigh, the other pressing into the mattress by your head. and then his hand moves up, fingers brushing your jaw, your lips, and you part them instinctively, letting him slide his thumb inside your mouth. he watches you as you suck on it, his eyes dark, mouth falling open. “jesus christ,” he breathes. “you’re... fuck.”

you swirl your tongue around the pad of his thumb, moaning around it, and his hips stutter. he growls low, pulls it out, and brings that hand down to grip your waist as he fucks you harder and deeper, every thrust dragging against the sweetest spot inside you. “you feel so good,” he mutters, voice wrecked, barely coherent. “so fucking good. like you were made for me.” you cry out again, hips rocking to meet him, your nails raking down his back. your whole body tightens, thighs trembling, your second orgasm crashing close like a wave.

and then he says it, broken, breathless, true. “i loved you. all this time,” he gasps, pressing his forehead to yours, thrusts getting sloppy, more frantic. “i still fucking love you.”

you come undone with a cry — loud, raw, desperate. your whole body arches into him, clenching around his cock, dragging him down with you. you tremble under him, pleasure blinding, his name falling from your lips like prayer. he groans, deep and guttural, and pulls out at the last second, fisting his cock once, twice, before he comes with a growl, hot and thick across your stomach. he jerks in his own hand, breathing ragged, eyes locked on you as he spills everything onto your skin.

his forehead drops to your shoulder. his body trembles above you, he lets out a shaky breath, his lips brushing your neck. “mine,” he whispers. “you’re mine. you always were.”

you hold him close, heart pounding, your legs still wrapped around his waist. and for the first time in years, everything feels like it’s exactly where it’s meant to be. you stay like that for a moment, his body heavy over yours, your arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders, your breath slowly returning to something close to normal. your skin is damp with sweat, your chest still rising and falling too fast, and you can feel his heartbeat against your ribs, loud and unsteady.

he doesn’t move right away. just presses his lips once, soft, against your neck, then your collarbone, then rests his forehead there like he can’t bear to let go of the closeness just yet. you slide your fingers up into his hair, brushing it gently back from his forehead, and whisper, “we’re a mess.”

he laughs, low and breathless, and lifts his head enough to look down at you. his gaze moves to your stomach, the evidence of him still there, and he hums, a little sheepish. “let me clean you up,” he murmurs. you nod, and he leans over the side of the bed, pulling a crumpled t-shirt from your laundry basket nearby — one of his, you realize, from years ago, soft and faded. he uses it carefully, wiping your stomach, being gentle like you’re fragile now, like he’s still not done taking care of you.

you watch him the whole time. the way his jaw clenches in focus, the way his hands move. the way he keeps stealing glances at your face, like he needs to check if you’re still with him. and when he’s done, he tosses the shirt aside and settles beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. you turn toward him instinctively, tucking yourself against his side, your leg draping over his hip, your hand resting flat on his chest. he wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer. skin to skin, warmth to warmth.

“you okay?” he asks, his voice soft, almost afraid of the quiet that’s settled around you both.

you nod, pressing a small kiss to his shoulder. “more than okay.”

there��s a pause, and he shifts a little, like he’s trying to find the right words. his fingers trace slow circles on your back, his breath even now, steady against your temple. “i meant what i said,” he murmurs eventually. you blink, and tilt your head to look at him. “about loving you,” he says. his voice doesn’t shake, but it’s quiet. like he’s scared to say it too loud, scared it’ll disappear if he does. “i didn’t know how to carry it back then,” he continues. “but i still love you, even after all this time.” you don’t interrupt, you let him speak. “it never stopped,” he says. “not really. i loved you when i was writing songs in hotel rooms. i loved you when i saw your name on old letters and had to stop myself from riding to your city. i loved you when i stepped out of that car and saw you again for the first time.”

he turns fully toward you now, brushing your hair behind your ear. “and i love you right now,” he says. “more than i know how to explain.” your throat tightens and your eyes burn. you reach up, touch his face, and trace the line of his cheek with your thumb.

“i love you too,” you whisper. “always did.”

he leans in then, kisses you slow and soft. nothing rushed, nothing hungry, just love.

just all the things you both kept to yourselves for years, finally allowed to be spoken in the quiet of your room, under soft sheets and the faint hum of the city outside. you rest your head against his chest again, and he holds you tighter.

“can we stay like this for a while?” you ask.

he kisses the top of your head. “as long as you want.”

and for the first time in a long time, there’s no distance. no almosts, no waiting.

and he sleeps over that night. not because you asked, not because he asked. just because neither of you ever considered the alternative.

you fall asleep tangled in each other, your leg over his, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, his breath steady against your neck. his skin is warm, even under the cool sheets, and at some point in the night, he murmurs something — too soft to catch — but it makes you smile in your sleep. when you wake up, the sun’s filtering through the blinds in thin lines, and he’s already awake.

he’s propped up on one elbow, watching you, hair messy, smile soft. “good morning,” he says, voice low, raspy from sleep.

you blink slowly, stretch a little, and smile back. “hi.”

he kisses your shoulder, then your cheek, then pulls you closer like he doesn’t want to leave the bed — like he could stay like this forever. but he can’t, and you both know that.

“i should get back to the hotel,” he says eventually, eyes apologetic. “they’re probably losing their minds trying to find me.”

you sigh, nestle into his chest for one more second. “what time’s the last show?”

“tonight,” he says. “city next over. it’s the end of the leg, then we get a few weeks off.”

you nod slowly. “you can use the phone,” you say, sitting up, brushing your hair back. “i don’t think it’s been used in days.”

he grins. “i missed landlines.” he pulls on his pants and shirt from the night before, pads barefoot to the phone in the corner of your living room, dialing a number from memory. you hear him talk to someone — probably the security guy — laughing a little, apologizing, promising he’ll be down in twenty. when he hangs up, he walks back toward you, hands in his pockets, eyes lingering on the edges of your apartment like he wants to remember it exactly as it is. “they’ll be here soon,” he says, voice lower now. “i should go.”

you nod. try to smile, but it’s small. he watches you for a second. then steps closer. his hands land on your waist. his forehead rests against yours.

“come with me,” he says.

your heart stutters. “what?”

“just for the night. the last show. it’s nothing big. we’ll be back by morning. or—” he laughs softly, eyes still on yours. “we won’t. we’ll figure it out.”

you blink. “jay…”

“i know it’s sudden,” he says. “i know we haven’t figured out what this is. but i don’t care. i just want you there.” you hesitate. not because you don’t want to go — but because it feels big. because everything between you always has. he leans in closer, kisses the corner of your mouth. “come with me,” he says again. softer this time. “please.”

he looks at you, you look at him. and then you’re moving.

you spin around, nearly tripping over your own feet as you head to your bedroom, pulling open drawers, grabbing whatever you can — a pair of jeans, a toothbrush, your tape player. he laughs from the hallway, breathless, half in disbelief. “i’ll take that as a yes,” he calls out.

you yell back, “shut up and help me find my shoes.” he grins, already heading into your closet like he’s lived here forever. and just like that, you’re going.

before you leave, you scribble a note on the back of an envelope you found near the phone, the ink shaky from how fast you’re writing. you fold it in half and slide it under the mat by your door.

yunjin, if you pass by here — went on tour with jay. just one night. back tomorrow. probably. maybe.

you don’t sign it. you don’t need to. she’ll know, and then you go. the drive to the next city is quiet at first. the windows rolled halfway down, your bag in the backseat, jay’s hand resting on your thigh the entire time. there’s music playing low on the radio — tom petty, bryan adams, someone you don’t catch — and the sky is the kind of gray that doesn’t mean rain, just distance. he looks over at you every few minutes like he still can’t believe you’re there. like he’s afraid to blink and find the passenger seat empty.

you get to the venue around three. the crew’s already setting up, cables and amps everywhere, the soundcheck halfway through. someone hands jay a setlist. someone else tells him where catering is. he keeps looking back at you like he’s trying not to lose you in the noise. you don’t get lost.

you follow him backstage, watch him tune his guitar, watch him run through scales absentmindedly with his eyes half on you. you sit on a speaker case and talk with one of the backup singers for half an hour about lip balm and tour food and how long the drives get between cities. you see the way the rest of the band looks at jay when he plays — the quiet respect, the ease, the way he’s earned his space up there. you don’t say anything. you don’t need to. and when the show starts, you watch it from the side of the stage.

the lights are blinding. the bass shakes the floor. the crowd screams in waves, louder with every song. and he plays like he’s alive in a way you’ve never seen before, like every note is another word he doesn’t have to say out loud. you watch his fingers move across the strings, his head tilted back, sweat dripping down his temple. and all you can think is i’m so fucking proud of him. he looks at you once during a quiet moment between songs. you smile, he does too.

after the show, the band’s buzzing. half-dressed, towel-draped, beer-in-hand kind of buzzing. someone hands you both a drink. someone else tries to convince you to stay for another leg of the tour. you laugh it off. or maybe you don’t.

you end up in a hotel room around two in the morning. his guitar still in the corner, your makeup smudged, your voice a little hoarse from singing along. he presses his forehead to yours before you fall asleep, whispers, “you were my favorite part of today.” you don’t answer. you just kiss him.

the next morning, the world feels slower. the windows are fogged. the coffee tastes stronger. he sits on the edge of the bed, shirtless, one sock on, and glances at you like he’s thinking too hard. “you know,” he says, not looking up, “this could be a thing. you and me. doing this.”

you pull the sheet up over your chest, lean on your elbow. “you mean… shows? cities?”

he nods. finally meets your gaze. “yeah. if you wanted.”

you don’t answer right away. because maybe this was supposed to be one night. maybe you were supposed to go home in the morning. but maybe you won’t. you think about the noise, the lights, the music. about his hand on your thigh in the car. about his mouth on your skin the night before. about his voice saying “my favorite part of today.” so you look at him — hair messy, guitar pick still in his pocket, smile soft, and you think: maybe i could get used to this.

and your life changed a little after that day. not in the kind of way that people notice from the outside, not right away, but something shifted. you came back home feeling different. lighter, like someone who finally let herself say yes, like someone who wasn’t afraid of living anymore.

you graduated two months later. your cap didn’t sit right on your head and your gown was wrinkled from the car ride, but none of that mattered. not when you saw him in the crowd, leaning against the back railing, sunglasses on, biting back a grin when you caught his eye. he didn’t bring flowers. he brought his car. you hadn’t packed a bag. he didn’t ask if you wanted to go, and you didn’t ask where.

you watched a concert in a city you never thought you’d see, slept in a motel with pink walls and a broken ice machine, woke up to him humming something under his breath while brushing his teeth, one hand tangled in your hair like he couldn’t believe you were real. sometimes you went alone. just you and him. sometimes you brought a friend — yunjin once, who danced side stage like she’d been doing it her whole life, who whispered he’s so gone for you, you know that, right? into your ear after the show, and kissed your cheek before disappearing into the crowd.

sometimes you both passed through home. once, you and jay picked up jungwon for a weekend. no plan, just his overnight bag and your mixtape in the stereo. you ended up at the coast. jay let jungwon drive for part of the way, and you both screamed when he almost missed the exit. you slept three across in one bed, your feet tangled, your ribs hurting from laughing. jay played guitar on the porch of the tiny rental, barefoot and happy, and jungwon fell asleep with popcorn in his lap.

no one talked about what it meant, but everyone felt it anyway.

you started carrying a small bag in the back of your closet, just in case. a toothbrush. a sweater. a cassette or two. he’d show up sometimes without warning, always leaning against the doorframe like he’d never left. “thought we could drive,” he’d say. and you’d go, you always went. you weren’t following him, you weren’t chasing anything. you were just there together making it up as you went along. saying yes to the kind of life that didn’t always fit in lines or schedules or plans. but fit him, and it fit you.

fit this version of love that moved, and stretched, and stayed. the summer blurred like that. with half-packed bags and gas station snacks, and hotel keys that never worked the first time. with sweat on your skin and his songs in your ears. with soft hands and sleepy grins and “come here” whispered into your neck in the backseat of his car at rest stops. with your feet up on the dashboard, and his fingers tracing your knee at red lights. it wasn’t perfect, but it was yours.

you got used to the rhythm. not just of the music, but of the life. sleeping in unfamiliar beds. brushing your teeth in gas station bathrooms. ordering breakfast in diners that smelled like the seventies and played the same four songs on repeat. you stopped asking where you were. stopped keeping track of state lines. stopped needing to define what you were doing. but you weren’t trying to escape anything, you just didn’t need to stand still anymore.

some mornings, you woke up to the sound of his guitar in the other room, already strumming something into shape. other mornings, he was still asleep, one hand wrapped around your waist, his face pressed into your shoulder like you were the softest thing he’d ever touched. there were fights, too. about timing, about exhaustion, about space. sometimes he shut down. sometimes you disappeared into the crowd before the encore. but every time, you found your way back. not with apologies, always — but with hands reaching in the dark. with quiet dinners. with the word stay whispered into your hair.

you made friends with the crew. with the other musicians. you had your own backstage pass, but mostly you stayed out of the way. you read books in the greenroom and you painted your nails on the tour bus floor. you stole his hoodies, of course. you took pictures you never printed. and in every city, he kissed you like it was the first time. you never asked what would happen after the tour ended, and he never offered a version of forever. but something in you both knew that this, whatever this was, had already become part of your bones.

one night, after a show in a city that felt too loud even in the fading hours, you and jay found yourselves driving back to your hometown. not just a quick visit, but the kind of week where time stretches slow and familiar. you needed a break from the tour, from the noise. the car hummed softly down the old roads you both knew by heart. the tour bus felt miles behind you, like a distant memory. the car was small, just enough space for both of you and a couple of guitars resting in the backseat. you didn’t say much, but the silence was easy and comfortable. jay hummed a melody low enough that it was more felt than heard, his fingers tapping softly on the steering wheel like it was another instrument. you reached over and squeezed his hand without thinking, and he glanced at you, a soft smile playing on his lips, like he’d been waiting for that all night.

when you arrived at your parents’ house, your mom opened the door, and the second she saw you, her eyes welled up with tears, of course. your dad, teased as always, “didn’t think you’d grow at all while you were gone.” and even though it was the same old line, you could tell he meant every word, his voice warm with relief. jay stood beside you, shifting awkwardly at first, but your parents welcomed him like he’d been part of the family forever — not just jungwon’s best friend, but the one who made their daughter smile in a way they hadn’t seen before.

the days that followed were a patchwork of memories and new moments stitched together. you went back to the park where you and jay had found each other again after you left for college, trying to make sense of everything that had changed. the diner where you’d shared late-night fries and whispered secrets during winter break, the neon sign buzzing softly overhead, still humming the soundtrack of your youth. you stood by the lake where the sky had caught fire the night of your first kiss, the water reflecting the soft glow of twilight. and then there was his childhood bedroom, tucked away in the basement of his parents’ house, walls still lined with posters, a guitar resting against the bed, and a window that looked out onto the quiet street. you remember the night he played “just like heaven” on his guitar there, fingers trembling with a mix of nerves and hope. it was before he left for college, before the silence stretched long between you. that song, that moment, stayed in your chest like a promise, one you both carried through the years.

that week, wrapped in the comfort of old places and quiet laughter, felt like a pause in the endless moving. a chance to remember where you came from, and to hold on to the pieces that made you whole.

and sometime in late october, you were at a city on the coast, windy, a little gray. the venue was old and charming. he was quiet that day, but not distant, just thoughtful. kept checking his setlist and tapping his pick against his thigh. didn’t talk much in soundcheck, and you knew better than to push. you watched from the wings, your arms crossed over your chest, the laminate pass hanging loose around your neck. and when they got to the second half of the show, the part where they sometimes rotated songs in or out, someone leaned over and told you he was going to do something different. you didn’t know what that meant, not until he stepped forward, a little closer to the mic, and looked out at the crowd like he was looking for something in it.

“we’ve been on the road for a while now,” he said, voice steady. “and this next one’s not ours. but it’s always been… mine. in a way.”

you felt it before he played the first chord. your breath caught in your throat. he glanced sideways, just once, just for a second, and then he started playing.

“show me, show me, show me how you do that trick…”

and your heart cracked wide open. because just like heaven wasn’t just a song, it was your song. from the very beginning, from that spring you thought you’d lost him, from mixtapes on train rides, from letters tucked into jacket pockets. from him playing it for you in his childhood bedroom, dreaming of what it’d feel like to be wanted the way those lyrics wanted someone.

you left the venue late that night, your hand in his, your cheeks still warm, your chest still aching in the best way. and no one said “the end” because no one needed to. some stories don’t end when the lights go down. they end quietly, in moments like that: in a guitar string still vibrating, in a look across the stage, in the memory of a song you never stopped hearing.

and in the way you still felt like heaven to him. always.

author's note: first of all… i’m so sorry for taking forever to update this 😭 life got busy, motivation disappeared, my brain shut down for like days, you know how it is. but we’re BACK and i’m so, so happy i finally got to share this part of the story with you

writing this second half felt like coming home in a nostalgic and painful and soft way. i always knew i wanted this fic to feel like growing up, and getting older, and realizing that love doesn’t always disappear just because time does, it just shifts. and maybe, if you’re lucky, it comes back <3

thank you for reading, screaming, crying, waiting, messaging, and just being here. this fic means the world to me. if you made it this far ilyyyyy!!!! you are the moment <3

taglist: @iyoonjh @jakesimfromstatefarm @blushingkoo @povjin @7789995323567322 @wtfisgoingright @dearestdreamies @fateismoonstruck @skzaurora @mora134340 @wonuziex @htrhng

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electricgg · 1 month ago

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Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 7: Silver Spoons And Butter Knives, Living Hand To Mouth I’m Getting By

Masterlist Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 (Here!) / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of Bullying, Suicidal implications, Body harm, Body Horror

The concept of boarding school wasn’t as bad as people portray it.

A boarding school is an institution where students live on the premises while receiving formal instruction, essentially providing both lodging and meals. Unlike normal schools, boarding schools offer a residential experience, often encompassing a wider range of extracurricular activities and a sense of community.

At least, that’s the literal definition she found on the internet.

When Bobby (with whom she had exchanged phone numbers and yapped the whole weekend through text, and sent her way too many TikToks she didn’t really understand but found funny) had asked her if she was staying at the dorms so they could hang out after class, she suddenly found a ray of hope of getting away from the Waynes.

Which led her to do a thorough research on Wikipedia.

Gotham Academy has been a prestigious, private boarding school for Gotham’s elite. And anyone who could afford it, or had a scholarship.

Most members of the Wayne family had gone to the academy. Most of the said members were expelled or dropped out of it.

Including Bruce himself.

Which is why she was currently pissed off on a Monday morning as Alfred drove the younger members of the family to school.

“This is bullshit,” She muttered while pouting at the window, arms crossed and legs sprawled out in the passenger seat.

The butler gave her a pointed look, letting her know that she should behave. The young girl readjusted her sitting position with a grumble. Her glare followed the tall buildings and the people walking around the busy sidewalk, passing them by in a blur to those with normal eyesight.

Not for her, thought. Everything seemed so slow-paced today.

It was quite annoying. From the moment she woke up that morning, it had been like stepping into a slow-motion sequence. The curtains of her room moved oh so gently, it almost seemed like they were floating. The water from her shower had stopped for a few moments, and she could even count the drops of the stream that stood frozen in the air before she received a cold splash in the face that almost made her crack her head open again if she hadn’t hung onto the built-in shelves on the wall. Then, the gremlin at breakfast. He seemed to take his sweet time eating his French toast, which was almost disturbing to see how slow someone could chew on his food. It made her sick to the stomach remembering it.

They were short lapses of time. Didn’t last too long, but those moments still managed to unsettle her and keep her on the edge.

“I’m afraid this is something you will have to discuss with your father, my dear.” His voice took her away from her musings, returning her mind to the present.

‘Where was I? Oh, right,’ her anger returning once again.

Just when she thought she had found a way to escape from the suffocating manor, the family had once again meddled with her brilliant plans.

Apparently, she did not form part of the whole boarding school experience. (Well, Wayne didn’t)

Due to the many incidents involving her ‘siblings’ and ‘father’ at the school in their scholarly years, they had gained a rather infamous reputation. This led to taking away certain privileges when a member of the Wayne family was to be enrolled at the academy.

Said privileges were not being able to partake in staying at the dorms through the semester.

(aka. Waynes were banned from the academy dorms.)

“I don’t understand why a sudden need to stay in such facilities.” Damian retorted from his place in the backseat. Still giving her the stinkeye for taking the front seat first (she had taken off while yelling ‘shotgun’ through the halls, making Drake get up from his deep sleep and come out of his room to see what was happening with his sheets all tangled on his legs.)

“Pennyworth makes far better meals, and the beds haven’t been thoroughly cleaned in ages. That’s without mentioning having to share your personal space with a stranger who lacks manners.” That last part made her bite her tongue hard.

‘When the irony is ironing,’ She thought sarcastically.

“It’s all about the independence and socializing. Who doesn’t like talking to total strangers and getting to know them while also sharing a bathroom?” Her lips were curling in a grin, her tone letting on very clearly what she was referring to.

Damian tutted, harshly crossing his arms while glaring at her. Alfred simply sighed as he pulled through the metal front gate of the academy.

“Since when do you like socializing, Embarrassment?” He remarked on the nickname with a cold glare at the back of her seat.

And as if she had sensed it, she took off her seatbelt and turned half of her body to the back so she could face him directly. Both of their glares clashed with one another.

Alfred got out of the car to take out her school bag from the back of the car, wondering to himself if he was truly paid enough to deal with teenagers.

Damian was very much annoyed at her new attitude. It was getting on his nerves how she stood her ground and didn’t flatter. He couldn’t have missed this part of her. He was the son of the greatest detective in the world, and he took pride in his deduction skills. And he had deducted his sister from the first moment they met. Never, in a million years, would she have the courage to act like this. Too insecure. Too weak. Too scared.

She would have had to die and be reborn to be acting like this.

“Don’t act like you know me, Damian.” His name sounded like a curse in the making on her tongue. Her deep, dark eyes stared directly into his own, a glint of something akin to sardonic gone the moment she turned back on her seat and opened the car door.

“You don’t have the right to judge. Not then. Not now. Not ever.”

With that, she stepped out and slammed the door shut, leaving him with words in his mouth.

He could only follow her stomping outside towards Alfred out of the corner of his eye, refusing to turn his face a single inch towards them. She seemed to mutter something to the older man, to whom he put a hand on her shoulder and spoke very gently.

Her eyes softened, and Damian couldn’t help but be put off by it.

He was well aware that she used grey contact lenses. She always wore them, no matter what. One would think she would sleep while wearing them, but he knew she wasn’t that stupid.

He never wondered why she used them, scraping it off as some odd fashing trend girls her age were into. They just were part of her and he went along with it. Never putting much thought into it.

Now, Damian was putting a lot of thought into it.

He had always known that he was an almost carbon copy of his father. Black hair, facial structure, etc. There was little doubt about his heritage and he took pride in it.

His half-sibling was another story. No matter how hard she tried to dress, act, talk, and move like them, she didn’t seem to fit in. The cold colors and heavy presence that were very characteristic of the Waynes didn’t suit her.

It had been obvious before, but now it was undeniable to Damian.

And it was all because of those damned eyes.

He wouldn’t dare to say it out loud, maybe just ponder it to himself, only in his thoughts, but Damian wanted her grey eyes back.

Those grey eyes that would crinkle in worry when he came back upset from a bad patrol night. Those grey eyes that would widen in excitement when she looked over his sketchbook and praised his skills. Those grey eyes that were full of softness and care, asking about how his day was at school.

…Maybe he wasn’t missing the grey. Not really.

‘It doesn’t make any sense.’ His mind hissed, making his frown deepen. ‘Why is this bothering me so much? She is just a nuisance and below-’

“Hey! Bobby! Over here!”

Her shout made Damian snap his head towards the car window with a snarl. Which slipped down slowly as he took in the scene happening outside.

She was waving her arm over her head quite fast towards someone. A guy who was smiling way too much for his taste (it almost made him turn away in disgust, but he fought against it), as he moved towards her with a jump in his walk. He looked like an overgrown golden retriever, wearing the academy uniform.

What happened next made Damian’s blood go cold and hot at the same time, his nails sinking into the fabric of his clothes, and his lips pressed tightly.

Because that guy dared to come close to his sister and pick her up in a hug while twirling her around.

Her bright laugh as she was put down, quickly jumping into a conversation with the big oaf while patting down her now wrinkly uniform, made his stomach twist into a feeling he couldn’t quite place yet.

The warmth in her eyes had Damian bite inside his cheek, chest tight as she began to walk away with the guy, with a quick goodbye to a smiling Alfred, who had begun to go inside the car and pull away from the school grounds.

The young boy’s stare didn’t move away from the pair. Not until he lost them out of sight due to the distance.

Who did that guy think he was?! Coming so close to her and acting so touchy with his sister.

Was he a friend? No way. She didn’t have any friends. He was sure.

Was he?

Was he a boyfriend? Ridiculous, there was no way she would have hidden something like that from the family. She wouldn’t.

…Would she?

What else had she been keeping quiet? What else didn’t he know about her? When had she changed? Had she even changed? Was she always like this and he just came to notice? When she grew tired of his prickly nature and sharp words? Did he lose her affection? Was he too late?

Did he lose her without even knowing?

‘No,’ He thought, fingers curled into fists by his side as he gave a glance to the smaller view of the academy through the window.

‘Something is wrong here.’

‘And I will find out.’

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

The academy was huge. It had halls over halls and stairs over stairs. An old smell stuck on the stone walls that gave the building an even more mystic flair, as if the gargoyle statues on every corner of the gate halls weren’t enough. It even had tall stained glass windows that gave a view of the huge campus: the main fountain, the track field, the outdoor gym, and many other places.

It was by pure miracle that she didn’t end up lost. But that was mostly because Bobby would drag her by the back of her school vest whenever she wandered off.

She was very thankful for that, since her ghost companion was not here today to guide her.

Wayne said that she would stay at the manor for the day, something along the lines of that she should experience the full school experience without her help (which screamed bullshit but she wasn’t going to fight her on that. If she was a ghost and had the choice to not go to school, she would also do the same) and trying to find any clues for their small quest.

So now, she was walking by herself for the first time at a school. So exciting, right?

“-and then the coach said I could play in the next game if someone hurts themselves. Which is not bad, but I don’t know. I don’t want anyone to get hurt just so I can prove myself as a player, y’know?”

“Aren’t you here because of a scholarship? Don’t you need to play to be able to stay here?” She asked the stressed boy, who had been talking about this for the past few minutes as they walked towards their third class of the day.

Bobby was from New York, and he had taken a sports scholarship in the academy this very year, so he could get into Gotham University to study accounting. Just like his father, who was a bank accountant back at home.

He formed part of the baseball school team and had been on the bench since he got inscribed into the academy.

Leading to his sudden stress of not having the chance to prove himself.

“Poor athletic performance can lead to losing the scholarship, so yeah. If I don’t play, I could lose it.” He quoted with his shoulders down, a deep sigh leaving his lungs as she patted his shoulder in a small show of support.

They had gotten along quite fast. Probably because Bobby had been the first open person with his thoughts and feelings since she woke up in that nasty pool.

No underhanded comments. No pushiness. No expectations. Always asking if what they were talking about was okay. If she was comfortable with anything.

It was a breath of fresh air, and she felt great hanging around him.

“What if I help you out with practice? I know jackshit about baseball, but I think I can throw some balls so you can practice swinging?” She offered with a shrug as they went into a half full classroom.

Bobby perked up with a huge smile and put an arm over her shoulder, slightly moving her side to side. “Please, and I will buy you ice cream every time after practice.”

That made her snort and shove him off of her playfully by pushing his face away with her hand, making him guaff and laugh.

“Personal space, jeez,” She said as he sat down on the second table and moved a chair back so she could sit beside him.

As he muttered his apologies, she couldn’t help but feel somebody’s stare on her back.

Just when she was gonna look over her shoulder, the bell rang, and everyone took their seats. Conversations quieted down as students began to pull out their books without a second thought.

Following everyone’s lead, she put out her history book with a sigh and kept her eyes downcast.

Now, there were many different stares and murmurs in her direction. From the corner of her eyes, she could see a few classmates whispering to each other or staring openly at her.

‘Yeah, that ain’t gonna fly,’ she thought, twisting her head to give her classmates a dead stare that had them gasping and looking in different directions while pretending they were busy with their phones or books.

“That’s weird,” Bobby’s voice took her away from her successful intimidation. “Professor Jones is usually here before any of us.”

The girl shrugged, leaning back on her chair while she brought one crossed leg on the seat as the other bounced against the floor. “Maybe they got stuck in traffic or somethin-”

The classroom door slammed open, taking all the attention of the students and making the room fall into silence.

A man stepped inside and closed the door behind him, his steps heavy as he walked towards the desk and put down his brown leather handbag on the chair and a pack of old-looking cigars inside one of cabinets.

He didn’t spare a single glance at them, picking up a piece of white chalk and beginning to write on the chalkboard.

He had a heavy build, like the ones that those wrestling guys on TV have, judging by how his shoulders and biceps stood out underneath his dark leather jacket. Some of the girls and a few other guys were staring intensely at his tight jeans, showing off his sculpted legs as well.

What stood out more for her was his hairstyle, spiked on both sides of his black hair.

Once he finished writing on the board, he clapped his hands to shake off the chalk on his palms and turned around with a grunt. A severe frown on his face as he looked over the quiet students.

“Your professor has taken a sudden leave for the rest of the semester.” His gruff tone had people straighten up and glup loudly.

Bobby exchanged a quick look of confusion and uncertainty with her.

This man didn’t look like the type of person to give a history class.

“You may call me Teach or Mr. Munroe. None of that formal stuff. Whoever calls me Professor will give ten laps on the track field, am I clear?” He almost snarled the last part.

Everyone nodded.

The man nodded and sat on the corner of the desk, crossing his arms. His tag necklace glinted with the movement as he pursed his lips in distaste once he saw the books sitting neatly on the desks.

“Now put those books away. We’re learning real history from now on.”

Some students muttered in confusion while a few others cheered as they put the books back in their bags. Bobby almost scrambled and rattled the desk as he took his book away, which made her snort a laugh and put her book down.

As the class continued, bustling with excitement over the new mysterious teacher and his unconventional method of teaching history, she had forgotten the odd stare she felt at the very beginning of class. It had simply slid off her mind.

In the back of the classroom, a guy with golden curls and clear eyes didn’t take his gaze off of her for the rest of the class.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Bruce wasn’t expecting any visits this early in the day.

He had recived plenty of calls from Dick, trying to check on him and see how the investigation on the case had been going but he didn’t pick them up. Tim had gone to stay at the Titans’ tower, claiming his sleep schedule was messed up and staying at the manor wasn’t helping keep him focused on the case (Bruce had the fleeting suspicion that Conner had something to do with that decision.)

He was more than sure that everyone was clear that he wanted to be left alone at the moment.

But Jason couldn’t give two fucks about what Bruce wanted.

The past Robin had parked his bike by the Batmobile, leaving his red helmet hanging by one of the handles of his vehicle. Sauntering towards the concentrated detective, who was sitting in front of the main computer and surrounded by many documents and files both on the screen and on paper.

“You look like shit.”

Bruce only switched the documents in his hands without lifting his head.

“Gordon told me about the bodies.” He answered, a cold tone in his voice.

Jason threw himself on the nearest chair, legs spread as he stared at Bruce’s back with a smug air around him.

“Jealous much?” He snarked. “That I got to them before you did?”

He was pushing his buttons.

Jason wanted to see how far he could get.

He was hoping for a fight, that way he could at least calm down the fury still running in his veins.

“You left them headless, and Gordon is still looking for their fingers, Jason.” Bruce hissed, finally turning around to glare at the guiltless man.

“They had it coming.”

“That was execution, Jason. It’s not how-”

“I ain’t one of your little robins, Bruce,” Jason retorted, leaning forward with his fists curling and gaze flashing green. “I did what you should have done the moment she was attacked.”

“There wasn’t enough proof yet-” The older man argued back, making Jason scoff and get up from the chair harshly.

The outlaw began to roam beneath his jacket, taking out crumbled files and dumping them over the keyboard of the computer. As soon as it hit the surface, pictures and documents fell out of it onto the ground and the desk.

“Take a look at your precious proof.”

Bruce took a moment before picking up a few of the pictures that had fallen on the floor. His jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened when he realized what the image showed.

It was from a surveillance camera. All the pictures were from different cameras around the city. The school grounds. The city parks. The mall.

And even from the abandoned public pool.

In all of the pictures, she was there. Getting pushed around. Harassed by the same four guys. He could recognize that they had the same uniform as her from the academy. Maybe seniors, since they easily towered over her.

The ones from the school contained different scenarios. Getting a phone flash shoved right in her face. Shoved down the stairs. Pushed on the school fountain. Yanked by her school bag or clothes. Getting too touchy with her, to the point of it being visibly rough.

One of the pictures showed her running in one of the parks, face blurred in panic as she looked over her shoulder at the boys trying to catch up to her.

Another one showed all five of them at the pool. Her on the ground, holding her head as it bled. Two of the boys were crouching down to hold her down while the others lifted a bloody brick.

He slammed the pictures down with a shuddering sigh. Throat tight, cold anger sinking from the tip of his fingers.

How long had this been going on? For how long had she been keeping this quiet? Why had she kept it quiet? Why didn’t she say something?

‘Had she said something? Did she say anything about it?’ His mind came on empty as many questions surfaced.

All those times he had turned her away, her knocks at his office door, and her silent voice asking if he was too busy. Always shutting her down, dreading to see her face and find old ghosts staring back at him.

Was it right there? Did she reach out just for him to turn her away?

Bruce felt a burning sensation behind his eyes.

“The documents are the transcripts of what I managed to get out of them on record.” Jason’s voice sounded far away.

Did she gather up the courage to come to him, and he gave her his back?

“Sick bastards, the lot of them,” Jason spat. “They had been tormenting her for years.”

Did she feel by herself in this? Nobody willing to listen? No one to trust?

“It went on from simply things. Spreading rumors about being into witchcraft and stuff. Saying that she would curse people with her bad luck if they came near her and odd shit like that to isolate her.”

How many times did he even talk to her? How many chances did he allow her to have to tell him about this?

“Then it moved to more physical stuff. Shoving, pushing, typical asshole stuff. Did you notice any bruises on her when she came from school?”

Bruises? What bruises? She was always wearing long sleeves, claiming it was too cold in the manor.

“You did notice, right? They said that it got ugly plenty of times.”

Long sleeves. Even when it was hot out. She always wore them. How could he never piece it together? How many bruises did she hide from Him?

“Bruce? Did you-”

His daughter. Bianca’s child. With long sleeves. Bruises. From that filth. How many? How many times was she hurt? How many times did he not notice? Gods, did she also- Had she also done it to herself? Had she felt there was no other way out of the lonesome existence he had put her into? That he was the one to inflict that on her? That would explain her current attitude. Her anger. Her glares. Her snarls. How could he ever blame her for acting out when it was all on him? Only himself to bla-

The sudden throbbing pain in his jaw snapped him out of his thoughts, making him stumble back as he looked at a fuming Jason with a lowered fist.

“No,” His glare was agitated, chest heaving, and teeth in a snarl. “You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself.”

Bruce took a sharp breath, his gaze lost as the sharpness of Jason’s words cut deep into his throat, making him unable to utter a word.

The younger man pointed a shaking finger at him in anger, taking steps closer towards the shocked man. “Either you fix this and admit you failed her, just like you failed me,”

Jason got up in his face, fist hitting against Bruce’s chest with a shuddering breath. Eyes blazing a toxic green, staring right into his grey ones.

“Or I will make sure that she turns out just like me.”

With that, Jason turned around and stomped to his bike. The engine roaring to life as he took off from the cave without giving him a single look back towards the currently shocked, quiet man.

Bruce then sank to the floor, hands tangled on his hair strands as he took deep breaths. Mind echoing with many words and questions.

But he could only choke out a few words to himself and the air.

“Oh, Bianca, I fucked it up to hell and back, didn’t I?…”

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

The piano room was too silent.

Ever since Cassandra set foot in the manor, the piano room had always been filled with contained noise. The keys echoing down the halls, a soft melody that made her skin embrace the foreign warmth of a ballad repeated over and over, day by day.

She hadn’t heard a single note in the past week.

It made the air in the manor heavy and constricted, the halls darker, and the silence almost unbearable.

Cassandra didn’t plan to pass by the piano room. Her feet just led her wandering steps towards the halfway-opened wooden door. The creaking made goosebumps break out on her skin.

The curtains were closed, and no natural light entered the room. Just a few lamps that flickered every once in a while and a very cold sensation covering her when she stepped inside.

Her legs guided her to the untouched piano. A hand passed over the worn keys, feeling a thin veil of dust under her fingertips.

A shard of guilt stabbed right through her stomach.

She had gotten exactly what she wanted…

Silence.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

Call it pettiness or whichever useless feeling people came up with, but Cassandra was done with all the noise that she made.

It's always the same song. The same melody. The same lyrics.

She was tired of it.

She stood by the door, staring directly at the young girl who didn’t seem to notice her as she continued to sing that ballad over and over.

“If I can’t reach you, let my song teach you,” the younger girl sang softly, eyes closed as her fingers played smoothly over the keys.

Cassandra clenched her teeth.

She wanted silence.

“All you need to keep our love alive,”

She was tired of her playing.

“If I can’t hold you,”

She was tired of her.

“Remember what I told y-”

“Could you keep it down?”

The girl startled, smashing the keys and making an awful sound. Both of them cringed at it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” She tried to apologize with a stammer as she stood up, stumbling and fidgeting fingers.

But Cassandra didn’t let her finish.

“You don’t know any other songs?” she questioned.

“Not really. My mom only taught me this-”

“Then why play at all?” She didn’t understand. It was useless to know just one song on the piano. A waste of skill and talent, if she were honest. It didn’t make any sense.

The girl took a sharp breath, hands wringing with the hems of her sleeves and fingers. “It’s an important ballad. My mom used to say it was a protec-”

“It’s too loud. Keep it down.”

Cassandra didn’t care about the importance of the song. She just wanted silence. Her ears were ringing, and she could feel a headache coming on if she heard another keynote from the piano.

They stayed quiet for a moment. A slow nod from the younger girl was answer enough for her.

Cassandra turned around and left.

She had blessed silence for the rest of the day.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

That happened years ago. She still played the song, but kept the door closed and put heavy curtains to muffle some of the noise. It still managed to slip through, but Cassandra didn’t really care as much anymore. It had blended into the background noise of the manor.

It had become part of their daily life. Something that just fitted right in.

And now that it was gone, the absence of it had been loud.

Such a loud silence.

She didn’t like it.

Cassandra hummed to herself, looking around the room one last time before walking outside into the. Leaving the door open behind her.

Maybe she could ask her if she could play again after she came from school? It wouldn’t be too much to ask of her. It wasn’t like the younger girl had done a lot around the manor lately. Just stay in her room all day and night, only coming out to eat and talk with Alfred, and then just go back to her-

‘If I can’t reach you…’

Cassandra came to a full stop at the end of the hallway.

The piano played slowly inside the room.

‘Let my song teach you…’

Her chest became heavy. Throat tight, as if cold fingers wrapped themselves over her shoulders. A wet sensation was sinking through the fabric of her shirt, making shivers go down her spine.

The voice was like a whisper, only for her to hear.

“Am I too loud now?” Cold lips whispered in Cassandra’s ear.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cassandra only managed to see a tangle of wet, dark hair and a bloodshot grey eye with blood dripping down a side of her deadly pale skin.

When she finally got the strength to turn completely around, the hall was quiet. Not a single echo or resonance of the keys was heard.

Cassandra patted herself down quickly, shaking away the sudden cold over her skin. She felt over her shoulders, trying to find any wet spots on her shoulder or near her ear and back.

There was no trace of it.

She left the hall quickly, deciding to put this on the back of her mind as a headache invaded her head.

The lights flickered in the piano room, the door creaking closed by itself.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

“I wasn’t expecting to like history that much.”

It was already past three in the afternoon, the classes had barely been over a few minutes ago.

But Bobby had already dragged her through the halls towards the baseball field so he could practice some pitching and bat swinging. As he had explained excitedly over lunch to her, shortly after Mr. Munroe’s class. It would be just like playing catch, but with some real damage on the side.

She could play catch! She remembered playing it with Billy before!

And with a white haired man.

And by herself, oddly enough…

“I guess Mr. Munroe just knows his stuff,” Bobby suggested, dodging a few students who walked in the opposite direction from them. He then grinned, “You could even say he lived through it with the way he talked about war stories.”

“He can’t be that old.”

“Just saying. I mean, how old could he be?” He quipped with a shrug.

She wheezed a short laugh. “Can’t be older than the Great Depression.”

Both of them were wheezing as they stumbled down the stairs, shoving and hitting each other on the arms and shoulders. That gained them a few odd looks, but they didn’t notice it at all. Too busy fighting to stay upright and keeping air in their lungs.

They made their way through the front doors of the school, taking the outside route but still inside the school grounds to the sports field.

“He has such a stern air around him, too. He kind of gives-”

“Please, don’t even go there.” She pleaded with a hiss. But Bobby only began to whisper loudly to her.

“Hey, everyone was looking at him like a piece of meat.”

“It doesn’t make it right.”

“Oh, please. You totally looked.”

“Did not.” She denied with red ears.

Bobby looked way too smug. “Liaaaarrrr.”

She shoved him, making him burst out laughing as she stomped faster and a couple of steps ahead of him, ready to take a corner.

To which she instantly froze on the spot with a wide-eyed look.

Bobby took notice of her sudden change, still laughing as he looked over her shoulder. “Hey, what’s-”

She quickly pushed him back until they were back to back with the corner wall, away from the view of the hall. Her hand gripping his vest with white knuckles as she looked carefully over the edge. Holding back her breath, cursing to hell and back the person standing by the front gate.

Dick Grayson was leaning against a expensive sports car, looking at his watch every five seconds when he wasn’t looking around the premises and between the groups of students walking around.

‘The fuck is he doing here?!’ She shouted in her head as she bit her tongue.

She had written to Alfred that she was going to stay for a longer time to hang out with Bobby. Why was the touchy asshole here? He was supposed to return to Bludhaven yesterday and give her some peace and tranquility!

“Um, you good?” Bobby muttered, reminding her that she wasn’t alone. She quickly let him go and apologized.

“Sorry,” she grumbled. “It’s my, ugh, brother.”

That last part was said between her teeth. Bobby frowned at that. “I guess you don’t get along, then?”

“Not exactly.” She remarked with a wince, giving a quick glance back towards the gate. He had moved closer.

That wasn’t good.

“We gotta be quick,” she urged, pushing Bobby back slowly as he let her guide him.

Before they could take off without catching too much attention, someone decided it was the right time to yell her ‘last name’.

“Wayne!”

The duo snapped their heads forward, towards the male voice that echoed through the hall. Her eye was twitching in annoyance.

A guy with golden curls and a snobbish air around him approached them with decision and fists curled in fists. He looked furious, and even then she could appreciate his handsome features.

He looked straight out of a magazine, to be completely honest.

“What the hell are you doing?” He hissed in her face, fuming.

If she weren’t in such a hurry, she would have given him a few choice words. But she really needed to run.

“Office hours are closed at the moment, sorry!” She stated, pulling Bobby deeper into the hall behind them. He looked with wide eyes between the three of them.

“Suddenly got a sense of humor?” The guy chided with a roll of eyes, following her steps forward. “Where have you been?! Did you forget about practice?! We have the damned recital in two weeks!”

“Listen,” she fretted, eyes bouncing around to make sure Dick wasn’t nearby. “Right now is not the time to discuss this. I gotta-”

“No, you and I made a deal.” He claimed with a hiss. “I help you with your recital and you-”

“Hun, what is going on here?”

The cold tone made the three teens look at the tight-smiling man who stood beside them. His arms crossed over his chest with his head tilted to the side, blue eyes staring directly at their hands.

Now that she noticed, the two boys had taken hold of her arms while standing between them.

It stayed quiet for a bit. Dick smile becoming tighter and tighter.

‘Fuuuuucckkk-’

“Who are your-”

She didn’t even let him finish. Her legs moved before she could even process it.

It all happened too fast.

She had taken off running, dragging with her the still startled boys down the hall and leaving Dick behind with the words in his mouth. The man also looked caught off guard, yelling after them as he began to run after them.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck-” she repeated over and over while Bobby and Goldielocks shouted at her.

“Unhand me! You’re ruining my shirt!”

“Take a left! Take a left!”

Without thinking about it too hard, she listened to Bobby and took a sharp left. Shoes squeaking as the three of them almost slammed against a poster board, before taking off again.

They took several turns, with mixed shouts and yells between all of them. Mostly with Bobby yelling directions and the other guy screaming in her ear about going too fast.

It all came to an end when all three of them ran over someone.

Well, more like they slammed solidly against someone and crashed to the ground.

They became a tangle of limbs and curses. Bobby was face-first on the ground, complaining about the heavy weight, trying to lift them off the ground but too tired to do so. The goldilocks was cursing while swinging his arms and legs around, flailing like a stray cat. And lastly, the young girl who lay over the two of them with a manic grin on her face and laughing to herself.

‘That felt soooo good!” She gushed as she laughed breathlessly.

It felt so right. Running like that felt so right. She had to do it again! Her heart was about to burst out in excitme-

A gruff grunt made all of them fall into silence. Three heads looking up with a gaping expression.

Mr. Munroe stood before them with a crushed cigar by his feet. An annoyed frown in his face that made them gulp at the same time.

“Drake. Worthington. Wayne.” The teens looked at each other with pale faces.

“Detention. Now.”

…That could have ended worse, to be honest.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Author's Note: The gangs all here! Finally got to introduce Maximoff's core friends! And so much happened in this chapter too! I had so much fun writting it, you guys have no idea. And logan is now in the plot ( I will shove my Storm x Wolverine agenda down your throats and YOU WILL LIKE IT-) Let me know what you guys liked, theorize or go and scream in the asks. I love reciving asks and answering them💖💖 Lots of love and hugs, GG✨

Tag List:

@bat1212 @kneelforloki @1abi @galaxypurplerose @yhin-gg @cxcilla @momentomoribitch @stargirl404 @initial-ari @welpthisisboring @icefox8155 @bunniotomia @alittlelostmoonchild @devotedlyshamelessdetective @shycreatorreview @nirvanaxx1942 @soulsire @ryuushou @rinkydinkythinky @lithiumval @ithoughtthinks @reeyy0-2 @cssammyyarts @lordbugs @ilovecoffe0 @kore-of-the-underworld @fortunatelydifferentqueen @vanessa-boo @livingund3ad @aelxr @im-so-goddamn-tired @lovebug-apple

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simpingforheros · 9 months ago

Text

Jason’s Wife?!

Pairing: Jason Todd X Female! Reader

Summary: Meet Mrs. Todd?! Jason got eloped and he doesn’t intend on sharing his blushing bride just yet.

Warnings: SMUT, Fluff, Established Relationship, Eloping, Jason being an ass to his family (for good reason), Jason calling Reader Ma (can’t remember who wrote about that, please tag them because I love this headcanon), P in V, unprotected sex (don’t advertise for the unsafe sex, put some breading on yalls chicken before dumping it in oil) , Oral (m receiving), Body Worship, Phone/Facetime during the deed, Exhibition Kink, Mating Press, Slight Breeding Kink, Degradation, Praise, crying kink??,TOXIC-ish And POSSESSIVE! Jason Todd is back, Traumatizing Dick again.

Author’s Note: Thank you guys so much for the praise I got on my last Jason Todd Fanfic! I didn’t know you guys would like my first smut that much so I made a part 2. Enjoy your next fix you horny bastards (jk I love you guys )

AN: This is Part 2 to Jason’s Girl??, so go read that for some context. Also a quick shout out to the mutual who started my spiraling decent into his madness, @jjenthusee , who was the main inspiration because of their amazing artwork! Also I’m sorry this was late and I don’t update as often, I’m in my second semester in a health major and I’m stumped man. I’ll update when I can I promise.

A/N: Part 3>>> Jason Broke What??

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Jason Todd is a lot of things. He’s known for bad things and good things. It depends on who you ask.

A menace, a murderer, a zombie, an asshole, etc.

A son, a brother, a hero….

But there’s two things everyone can agree on.

1). He’s a good boyfriend.

For the last 6 months since Jason finally revealed his secret girlfriend of two years, the Bat Family learned just how much of a better person Jason was when (Y/N) was around.

His voice was softer and kinder to others. His temperament was more patient and his fists stayed loose. Her presence acting like a balm to sooth his soul as soon as he feels her comforting hand on his skin.

There were obvious moments of trouble, such as little squabbles or one gets snappy at the other, but normally they sort it out. Even if Bruce and the rest of the family didn’t know her for long, they knew that she had the backbone to handle Jason and give him what he needed without babying him.

Jason even shows his love for her in goofy ways, such as wearing matching shirts or color coordinated outfits. The two are now known for their Friday date nights and lazy Saturdays where they don’t wanna be disturbed. Their late night rides or their silent evenings where either a book or controller is in hand.

Red Hood is known for lingering around certain streets where she would be at when she had to work late, and he always had a bottle of water or granola bar he ‘mysteriously appeared’ out of thin air.

Jason was known for being proud of building the healthiest relationship he’s ever had with someone who didn’t fall in love with him because he was Bruce Wayne’s son, or Batman’s protege. She fell in love with Jason Peter Todd and all he was.

Which leads to the one thing that the family also knew him for.

2) Jason Todd would not tell anyone when he dropped down on one knee and asked (Y/N) to be his wife.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The proposal was a spontaneous to say the least.

Their usual Saturday routine of laying on the couch, too exhausted from the week to move. Jason laid on the opposite side as his beloved, her feet dangling off to the side of his hips as his own rested behind her shoulders. They both had a book in as they enjoyed their silence. The only noise coming from the soft patter of Frank coming over to lay on his adopted father.

The tabby cat that Jason claimed to not like despite the male cat clinging to him like glue. The cat jumped onto his stomach with a deep groan emitting from him. A soft giggle filled the room as she sets her book down and pulls the feline to her.

“I still don’t understand why my cat likes you more than me.” She comments as she strokes the tabby’s fur.

Jason scoffs as he carefully rolls off the couch and onto his feet. “Probably to spite me.”

He heads to the kitchen to grab them a drink as he hears one comment that seemed to change everything in one second.

“What’s gonna happen when we have a kid? Would you think they would prefer you over me or would we have another Frank?…”

The question was a hypothetical one, a normal one couples would ask just to make sound in the air. Jason would have probably answered light heartedly with a kiss or a smart ass comment to make her laugh, but it felt different. He felt different.

There wasn’t a ‘if’ in the question like it would or wouldn’t happen, but a definite of ‘when’ it would happen. Jason knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Hell, he managed to not fuck up a relationship he kept hidden for 2 years. He knew he wanted to marry her the moment he decided to open up and let her into his life by moving her in and introducing her to his family.

So, even if it was on an impulse, Jason returns back into the living room and as he placed their drinks on the coffee table as he kneels on the floor beside the couch. (Y/N) sits up as she smiles at him, unaware of the decision he made.

“Penny for your thoughts, Todd?” She asked playfully as she offers him an imaginary penny in between her pinched fingers.

Jason smiles as he takes her out stretched hand before kissing the back of it.

“Marry me.”

The seriousness in his eyes made her playful attitude dissolve to disbelief.

“What?…”

“I wanna marry you, (Y/N)…You are the everything I could ever want and don’t deserve. But I can’t imagine building a life like the one we have with anyone else. You are one of the few lights this dark world has and I wanna love and protect you for the rest of our lives.” Jason explains as he nervously massages her hand as his eyes shined with deep love and affection. “Even if I don’t have a ring yet and we are in our pajamas, will you accept me and let me become yours forever?”

Tears streamed down her face as she nods frantically. Her arms quickly wrapping around Jason’s neck and pulling him into a kiss.

Jason melts into her and begins to move to be on top of her on the couch until a sharp hiss makes him stop.

“Quiet, Frank…” Jason grumbles at the cat.

“Daddy is trying get some sugar from Mama~”

+++++++++++++++++

A week later, Alfred appeared extra peppy for the day. His duties were quickly done before the family was awake and his fidgeting gotten everyone concerned. Alfred was the normally level-headed gentle hand of the house, so seeing him so giddy made everyone nervous.

It wasn’t until he surprisingly left in one of his better suits and a gift bag that the rest of the Wayne Family just decided that he may be going to an event or some kind.

“Where do you think he’s going?” Tim asks his younger brother from behind a book.

Damian shrugs as he says, “How should I know?”

The answer wouldn’t come until later that evening. Alfred came back with both the brightest smile and red swollen eyes. In his hands were a single pale pink rose and a camera as he scurries to the study.

Tim, Dick, and Damian, who were scattered around the living room, followed out of curiosity. What’s gotten Alfred this way? An old flame? The thought of Alfred getting down and dirty made the boys shudder before they continue to the study and ultimately down to the Batcave.

“Yo, Alfred.” Dick calls out as he exits the elevator.

Alfred stood by the large chair over looking the Batcomputer as Bruce’s hulking form peaked over the leather. The clicking of the mouse playing in the background as Alfred turns his head to address Dick.

“Yes, Master Richard?” He says. In his hand was the camera with cables connecting it to the computer.

“Where have you been? You kinda left in a hurry…”

Tim jumps in as he says, “I mean, we aren’t trying to be rude, but you did seem kinda jumpy this morning.”

Damian’s words cut through the other two like ice as his eyes look at the monitor.

“Did Todd and his woman get married?”

Dick and Tim look back at Damian before their shocked expressions look up to the monitor. Their eyes widen in disbelief at the image before them.

Standing in a suit was a an absolutely beeming smile was Jason Todd with his hands interlocked with (Y/N), who was wearing a white dress. The dress didn’t look like the traditional floor length gown. Instead it was a backless chic dress with a bow on the back. Her hair was down and decorated with pearl ornaments as a matching ribbon choker was around her neck with a single aged pearl on it.

In their interlocked finders, a familiar set of rings shined . Martha Wayne’s sparkling diamond engagement ring and her wedding band was on (Y/N)’s finger as a matching wedding band was on Jason’s finger.

The surroundings didn’t look like a typical wedding venue with flowers and ribbons with a crowd of people. It was a courthouse, Gotham City Courthouse. On (Y/N)’s side stood Alfred holding a pale pink bouquet that was most likely the bride’s. What surprised them the most was a smiling Bruce on Jason’s side, a look of pride on his face that he rarely shown.

The boys break out of their shell as Dick complains.

“This can’t be real… Jason and (Y/N) got married without telling any of us….AND YOU LET JASON HAVE MARTHA’S RING!!” Dick snaps as his irritation grew. “You said I was gonna have it.”

Bruce sighs as he says, “I said that before you cheated on both of your girlfriends with each other.”

Alfred chuckles as he says, “And Master Jason specifically stated that he only wanted me and Master Bruce there.”

Tim frowns as he asks, “Why weren’t we invited?”

Alfred gives the boy a sympathetic look before reciting, “Miss (Y/N) and Jason only wanted a small ceremony and off what he said, ‘Damian makes (Y/N) uncomfortable when he calls her Jason’s woman and a distraction. Dick is plain out not invited because of reasons he knows why. And Tim can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life, so he’s not invited.’”

Damian tsks as he says, “I wouldn’t have wanted to go anyways.”

Dick was flustered as the images of the incident Alfred was referring to. He still can’t get her moans out of his head…

Tim pouts and says, “I’m gonna remember this…But why was Bruce invited then?”

Bruce responds with a smirk , “Because I was asked to give away the bride.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

As soon as the newly weds returned their apartment, the lust sprinkled down like hale. Her well manicured hair was now messy as his hands held her head. His mouth devouring her moans as her own lips kept up with his pace.

Her fingers desperately removing his tie as the shrilling ring of Jason’s cell phone fills the air. He ignores it in favor of trailing tongue against his bride’s as she slings off the tie.

“Gonna answer that?” She mumbles as his mouth begins to trail down her jawline. Jason doesn’t answer as his hands scoop up under her thighs to pick her up. Her giggles were music in his ears as he says,

“It’s probably just Tim or Dick. Probably bitching about the wedding…”

Jason carries his wife through the threshold of their apartment hallway as his lips remained on hers. Their vows sealed in teeth and tongues as he expertly guided them into the bedroom.

His phone finally stopped ringing as he places her on the bed. Hands groping and pulling off of clothing as he unwraps her down to her underwear and stockings. His mouth hot against her breast as she pushes his now unbuttoned shirt down his shoulders.

His other hand dipping into her underwear as he flicks her erected nipples like a guitar. Her sweet music filling the room as he’s met with a creamy cunt under her white thong.

“Fuccck, ma..” He moans against her breast. Jason pulls away with a devilish smirk as he runs his finger over her sopping folds, carefully avoiding her hole and clit. “I can’t tell what I like more…your pretty tits or your sloppy cunt…”

(Y/N) feels the wave of shameful arousal fill her stomach as she whines out, “Stop teasing me, baby. It’s our wedding day and you’re acting like a jackass…”

Her body jolts as he pinches her clit. Her hips jerking as she moans at the sensation. Jason had a look of faux sympathy before mumbling against the valley of her breasts.

“Oh, you’re right…” His voice barely audible to her as he begins to rub heart shaped patterns on her clit, making sure to dip down to her gasping pussy as he dips down. “I’m not acting like a good husband, ain’t I? Let me make it up to you, Mrs. Todd.”

His lips attached to her unabused nipple before his middle finger finally dips into her pulsing hole. His groan accentuated by the scraping of his teeth against her sensitive flesh. The feeling of her cunt sucking his one finger in making him light headed as her moans ringed out.

“Jason…stop teasing me…I want you…” She begs as her hips try to meet the thrust of his finger. He growls at her bossiness before yanking his finger out of her pulling her panties down her thighs.

Her eyes glared at him for the loss of stimulation before he quickly pops her pussy lightly. The wet slap of skin making her cringe in embarrassment before Jason begins to leave a trail of open kisses and bites down her body. Making sure to pay special attention to the matching tattoo on her hip before he mumbles to her with a lazy smile.

“Your wish is my command.”

Before he could dig into his meal, the shrill ring of his phone invades the space. He yanks his phone out of his pocket and looks at the screen before declining the call. He tosses the phone onto the bed as he glares at the offending device.

“Stupid Dick..” He groans before a soft hand on his face draws him back to her. Her gentle touch bringing peace to his mind as she pulls him up to press a soft peck to his lips.

His mind goes blank as she gently lures him to stand before she kneels down, trailing kisses down his exposed chest and his scars. Her love poured into his body as her lips traced his autopsy scars. Her eyes shining so pretty as she presses an extra long kiss to his matching tattoo on his Adonis belt.

The silent vow that was made a year and a half into dating on a drunk night out with Roy.

‘I am hers and she is mine’

“Let me be a good wife to you, Mr. Todd.” She whispers against his skin. Her breath like hot fire before her hands snake off his belt and trousers. Her mischievous eyes gleaming in lustful delight as Jason’s lip curls in between his teeth. His eyes almost glowing as she presses her warm lips against his clothed tip. His hand fisting into her hair as he hisses at her.

“Don’t you fucking tease me…”

*RING* *RING*

Jason glares at the phone before he snatches it up. He sees the familiar notification as his own image shown on the phone. FaceTime.

“Answer it.”

“What?” Jason asks in confusion before looking down to her. His surprise was suppressed with a hiss as she pulls his hard cock out of his underwear. Her hand lazyily stroking him as she gives him a look of faux innocence.

“Answer it. It’s rude to ignore family..”

Jason feels a smirk curled onto his face as he realizes what she wanted. His dick hardened to iron as he remembers why he fell for her.

She was just as fucked as he was.

With that, Jason schools his face as he answers the phone with an annoyed expression.

“What?” He says as the image of his brother appears on his phone screen.

Dick glares at Jason before snapping at him. “You got fucking married?! Without inviting any of us?!”

“Didn’t Alfred tell you why we didn’t want you guys there?” Jason asked in as much annoyance as he can muster as he felt the wet pull of lips around his cock.

His hand gripping her hair kept her from getting more than his tip in as he hides his reaction. Her tongue licking his tip like a kitten wanting milk.

“But we are family for fucks sake.”

Jason’s actual annoyance getting the best of him as he hisses,

“I’m sorry, but I recall you trying to fuck my wife.”

“THAT WAS BEFORE I KNEW YOU WERE DATING HER!!”

Jason becomes distracted as (Y/N) starts sucking him off. Her drool and his precum slowly beginning to coat her mouth and hand as it strokes what she can’t fit into her pretty mouth.

His brow furrowed as his pleasure and annoyance started to mix on his face. Jason decides to get some payback on both his wife and brother as he slyly mentions.

“Oh but you had no problem rubbing one out when I sent those videos.”

He pulls her closer to his pelvis to muffle her surprised moan. If he wasn’t on the phone, he would degrade her like a slut with how she acts when she remembers being recorded. Her cheeks hollow as Dick’s jaw drops as Jason mentions the videos.

“I-I..”

“Admit it.” Jason says, his voice grew more taunting. “You probably still jack off to the videos because you’re nothing but a loser who cheats on any good woman he gets because you’re scared of attaching to someone.”

Jason can feel her eagerness grow as she sucks harder, actually pulling him as deep into her throat as she can. He almost wanted to both laugh at how cute she was as she gagged around him and coo at how proud he was of her. Her jaw was gonna be hurting like a bitch either way.

Dick’s baffled expression almost made it better as his eyes shined with shame over what Jason knew to be true.

“That’s why Bruce gave me Martha’s ring.” Jason says as he forces (Y/N) to take him all the way down her throat. Her nose pressing into his light patch of black hair as Jason says. “fuck…I can fuck (Y/N) like I fucking hate her guts and she would take it because she knows I would rather swallow glass than fuck anyone else like I do her. To even love anyone halfway as I do her would be a sin…”

The fluttering feeling of her throat as her nails digged into his thigh affirming his conviction.

“I’m not afraid to get attached… As long as she lives, I’ll never let her go…”

He hangs up before Dick can respond as he yanks her back by her hair. Her coughing and gasping for air as she whine painfully at both the lost of his cock in her mouth and the painful grip on her scalp.

Jason releases her hair before kneeling beside her on the floor. His expression tender as he cups her face. Her light makeup look from the wedding was now smudged off with her mascara flowing down her face with her tears. Her lips puffy and wet from his assault on her mouth. Her body littered in forming bruises from his teeth. Her cunt sloppy and leaking a clear sheen down her thighs. Her cheek leaning into his palm as her eyes shined at him with nothing but love and desire.

“Fuck…” He groans before crawling inbetween her legs as he pushes her to lay down on the floor. His mouth back on hers as his throbbing erection lightly dragged against her fluttering pussy. The head catching her clit despite the watery resistance as she whimpers into his mouth.

“You look so pretty like this…” Jason says before sticking his tongue down her throats. Their tongues tangling for a moment before his hands cup her face and pull her away. “You feel it, don’t you?”

She whines as his hips rolled against hers. Her cunt angry as it fluttered around nothing. His nearly red dick twitching as it desires salvation in her temple as Jason breathlessly whimpers.

“Feel how bad I need you baby? Fuck I can’t stand it. I wanna fuck you every day so I can see you look like this.” He says as he wraps his hand his member. He slaps her pussy with it twice before dragging his head over her entrance, the heavy appendage dipping in slightly as he says.

“I wanna ruin you so good. You’re such a good pretty girl that I want to ruin and make as fucked up as me…”

Her gasps fill the room as he starts to bully his tip into her. Even though they were both well experienced with each other, every time she takes him feels like the first time with that delicious stretch.

His unusually talkative mood doesn’t let up as he pushes his hips into her, forcing her to take him.

“You’re so gorgeous…” He whispers as he pulls her legs over his shoulders as he grasps her hips, forcing them up as he starts to fill her to the hilt. “God, this pussy is unbelievable…gonna fill her up everyday and eat her out every night…”

His thrusts start off slow but hard as her hands desperately held onto what bit of Jason she could as he fucked her like a doll. Her whimpers and moans filling the air as the sticky sound of his balls smacking her ass.

His hot breath tickles her ears as his hips develop the torturous pattern of pistoling into her like a hard buck before rolling in a deep and filling thrust. Her eyes filling with tears and brain fog as he filled her lust sick brain with praise.

“Such a good little wife…a sweet little thing with a nice soft body for me…” He groans as his pace becomes brutal. His precision and memory impeccably beats anything he learned as a vigilante as he assaults her G-spot. Her eyes rolling back as lighting strikes her the brain as she begins to cry.

“Fuck. Fuck. fuck…” she sobs incoherently as Jason licks the tears off her face.

“You look so hot when your cry…” Jason moans as his thrusts start to become more sloppy. His reaches between them as he rubs tight circles on her clit as he thrusts harder into her soft cunt.

“Will you cry some more please?” He’s asked in a cruel tone. His eyes blown out with desire as he lets his full weight pin her down under him. His added weight making her pinned as she cries. Her stomach tightening at the overwhelming presence of him and his cock destroying her insides.

“I’m gonna fuck a baby into you, Ma…” He says as his own whimpers fall through. “Gonna watch you get swollen and carry a little perfect baby and know that you’re mine…that no one can love you like me… ain’t that right?”

Her impending orgasm blocking off all rational thoughts as her mouth hangs open. His hand pulls from her clit to her frustration and grabs a hold of her jaw. Forcing her to look at him as he says harshly.

“Who do you belong to ,Pretty Girl?”

Her eyes widen as she says, “You…I belong to you baby…”

Jason smirks as he starts thrusting faster. Her shrieks just music in his ears as she falls off the edge. Her vision clouded as white flashes in her vision. Her body nearly convulsing as her cunt squeezes Jason into his own orgasm. His warm seed flooding her quivering womb as he presses a kiss into her neck.

The pair remained still for a moment as they gasped for air. The natural chill of the room causing them to tremble at the stimulation. Her small hand moving first as she grabs his hand, her fingers playing with the gold band on his finger as she whispers.

“My husband…” A soft satisfied smile on her lips as Jason grins widely into her neck as he mumbles.

“All yours, Mrs. Todd.”

**********************

AN: Yea I didn’t know how to end this. 😭 I hope you guys like it because I’m not too sure if the smut is good or not. Let me know what you think as I’m trying to clear out the drafts. Again, Thank you @jjenthusee for inspiring these two fanfics and for being a great mutual.

*******************

@simpingforheros fanfic. I DO NOT CONDONE THE THEFT, COPYING, REPOSTING, AND PLAGIARISM OF MY WORK ON THIS SITE OR OTHER SITES WITHOUT CREDIT OR PERMISSION.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #arkham knight #arkham knight x reader #arkham knight jason todd #jason todd x y/n #arkham knight x you #batman arkham series #jason todd x you #jason todd reader #jason todd smut #redhood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader #redhood smut #simpingforheros

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tyunningism · 19 days ago

Text

Campus Sweetheart !!

── .✦ pairing: c.sb + k.th

Transitioning from your uni dorm as a first year is all over the place, watching your card depleting itself of its last dimes and being fired from your only job is the last thing you'd hope for. Don't worry though, it just so happens to reach your ears that there's a flat looking for a new roommate for a hell of a deal. ♡︎

╰┈➤MDNI - NSFW content ahead...

..in simple words.. ʀᴏᴏᴍᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴛᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ʀᴏᴏᴍᴍᴀᴛᴇ ꜱᴏᴏʙɪɴ

ᝰ.ᐟ wc - 4.6k words

part 2? Read here !!

mentions!! and warnings!! - Smut , alcohol consumption + partying, slight dubcon( both reader and soobin are slightly drunk)if you squint..., corruption kink, slight dacryphilia, exhibitionism, hickeys, slight voyeurism, dry humping, perv!soobin, reader is a virgin, bunch of filth you get the idea, minor rest of txt mentions. This first part is centred around soobin and reader, part 2 will revolve around tyun xx

tyunningism's note: first fic i've decided to post, went on a big tangent to write about this duo and will never live it down xoxo unedited so might have typos etc.

You've never been more screwed in your 19 years of living..like ever. It just so happened to be that the moment you were fired from some shitty overpriced clothing store across campus which was 'overstaffed', the girls' dorm board were now chasing you up to pay rent! (which is overly expensive as well and can't be paid off now that you're sacked...). You unlock your phone to check what's left in your balance after you went out shopping for cute trinkets of your fav characters, nerdy figurines and a whole closet worth of pink cotton vests.. and oh you are doomed.

Immediately you're skimming through your apps to message the girls you've been essentially rooming with for at least a semester now; typing out a huge paragraph with hundreds of typos as you try to explain your dire situation.

And soon enough the group chat is flooding with questions and voice notes from Giselle and Chaewon.

Chaewonnie 🍒: What the actual FUCK are you on about right now?! You're telling me that creep of a manager sacked you and now you can't stay in the dorms anymore? Gis<3: ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 1:07 this dorm is shit anyways for 500 dollars a month you saved yourself lmfao Chaewonnie 🍒: Omg not the time gigi... i'll pay for rent until you're back on your feet k? 😟 You: Chaeee :(( It's okay don't. I'll look around for something cheaper i doubt i can continue paying that much anyways even with a job :(( Gis<3: Look on the forum bb, there might be someone leasing out a place that's decent?? If not Chae and I'll just sneak you in anyways.

Your ears perk up at Giselle's idea, quickly sending a bunch of sentimental messages about visiting even after you move out of the dorms before going on to the University forum.

As much as you'd hate to admit, Giselle and Chaewon are complete polar opposites to you. While they're out partying and crashing at some random frat party you're in the dorms alone most of the time keeping on top of assignments or watching cheesy romcoms, even walking around with them made you feel out of place. It doesn't help that your clothes are all frilly and covered standing next to Giselle who wears short tops to accentuate her curves and chest, it's ridiculous really- the stark difference between you two.

A certain post knocks you out of your thoughts as you skim across it:

"Looking for a roommte renting this room for chaep. Call xxx-xxxx-0304"

Anyone can tell that whoever posted this didn't give two shits about renting out the small room with such half assed spelling and it didn't help that the profile was completely anonymous and blank either. But the $200 deal for a month was an absolute steal for what the photos showed, a single room with a bathroom and walk in closet.. how the fuck has no one else snatched up this offer!?

You dial the number and chew on the plump fat of your bottom lip, fingers fiddling with the hems of your sweater and your feet uncomfortably shuffling on the concrete ground.

" Hello?"

There's a moment of silence before your speak up and fuck if your nerves weren't on edge right now you could definitely have saved yourself some embarrassment.

" Uhm..so I saw the post about the roommate thing.. is that still open?"

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

It's been about two months since you've moved in; you're still prying around shyly begging to avoid any attention towards you from who you've learnt to be Soobin and Taehyun. And if you thought you stuck out like a sore thumb back at the girls' dorms you were sure to stand out jarringly now with your pink and beige skirts and lace tops next to their baggy jeans worn from heel-bite and oversized zip ups >.<

Something else you weren't expecting were that the two men were devilishly handsome and alluring, obscenely so. Soobin's towering height and dimples which enhanced his smile had completely smote you in the face with shock when he opened the door to greet you, but despite his sincerity, Taehyun wasn't so warm and welcoming.

"Where are you going now?" Taehyun pries, noticing your unwanted presence in the open living room. It's a struggle to not stutter and suffocate under the tension in the air when he confronts you with his usual downgrading tone; his gaze belittling and sly as he quirks a brow at you.

"The small trinket store by campus. Do you wanna come with?"

He scoffs at your statement and laughs almost sarcastically enough to cause heat to rise up to your cheeks, trying to fiddle with your clothes to hide your own shame. He's mocking you you figure and you realise you might've stepped over the line by asking him to go with you on your silly trip- especially knowing he's never been keener to nitpick at you, finding great entertainment in your reactions.

"I'm not being caught with childish shit like that. I'm sure that perv 'll go with you in a heart beat if you suck him off though..." He chuckles at his own sick joke causing Soobin to choke on his drink only to whip his head towards him at his accusations a bit too fast for his own sake.

"Yeah right. If you want to call me the perv i'm sure she'd want to know what you were up to last night," Soobin's prying remark shifts the mood causing the air becomes thicker while you stay silent- still fiddling with your clothes refusing to make eye contact and still completely 'new' to the open talk about their own perverse lives. With the two men staring directly at you, their topic of conversation, you can't help but feel nervous and heated, hoping it wasn't obvious that you were starting to get wet other wise you'd opt to fall into a ditch and die. They're just two men still feeling stuck in puberty and your roommates you've barely gotten used to over the two months, you'd be lying if you didn't feel dirty for drooling so shamelessly about the way they talk about their own fantasies with you. You're quickly dismissed off your thoughts by Soobin's soft comment, "Angel if you really wanted someone to accompany you next time jus' come straight to me yeah? Come on i'll drop you off wherever", completely different in manner to what he was accused of previously.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

You hate to admit that Soobin's a fucking saint but staring at the limited edition figurine which he placed in your hands with a shit eating grin on his face you can only obsess and geek silently. You gaze up at him with near tears of gratitude in your eyes- not wasting any time in wrapping your arms around his large build out of instinct- completely forgetting that he wasn't Giselle or Chaewon. How on earth did you manage to score a roommate like him?!

"Soobin," your bottom lip juts out in to an unintentional pout. "You didn't have to, this isn't..are you- are you sure I can have this?"

The taller male's grin only widens at your words before leaning down to whisper in to your ear slyly;

"Knew you'd like this one. Just consider it as a late welcoming gift, for our new roommate after all." His grin only widens as he snakes his hand around the back of your waist, hands teasingly slipping under your shirt to brush against your bare skin. The action alone has you struggling to compose your self before he stops, humming to himself as he walks off to gawk at some of the more revealing figurines, leaving you dumbfounded and hot, toying with your senses and your head as you follow dumbly behind >,<

The ride home is silent apart from the soft humming escaping from Soobin's lips. His finger, which found refuge on the flesh of your thigh tapped rhythmically to the music playing from the speaker of his car, every now and then he'd inch closer up your thigh before backing down again and god does it make your head spin.

And fuck if you couldn't realise it sooner Soobin was cute, really cute. The glasses slipping down his nose and the rosy hue dusting his cheeks, bangs framing his face, thick fingers steering the wheel which made you burn up feverishly every time you tried to take a tiny peek.Little did you know he's been aware this whole time about your fleeting glances- and he can't help but bite back on his lips when blood threatens to rush towards his dick right in front of his clumsy little roommate !! He knows he's sick and twisted- but who can blame him when he's got a girl as adorable as you in his passenger seat right now??

He even makes sure you walk in front of him up the stairs to your apartment as well, under the guise of 'being able to catch you incase you fall from the steep steps, maintaining enough distance so he could oggle at the imprint of your folds on your panties under your skirt. There was something so sinister about seeing what you were hiding under those flimsy skirts, your cute cotton panties flashed on display directly for his eyes. He almost wants to believe you do these small things to tempt him on purpose, but his adorable little roommate would never be so dirty would she? Soobin's bad, a bad man who's sick in the head for thinking so nastily about what he wants to do to you, he doubts you've even orgasmed before, but no worries because why else would you have Soobin except to teach you?? >,<

And it's not like he's never openly expressed his sexual needs before. With Taehyun in the room he speaks filthily about the Hentai Heeseung shared with him last week that he beat to like a wild man thinking you couldn't hear from your 'soundproofed' rooms, or about the girl Taehyun had over the night before who looked almost a bit too much like you, and the hundreds of porn magazines he has strewn across his room that he attempts to kick under his bed when you knock on his door which you choose to ignore when you enter. You always shy away when the two of them start any sort of sex talk in front of you, he notices it and he's sure Taehyun does too. It's laughable how much of a virgin you are- rubbing your thighs together uncomfortably for any sort of friction before you're excusing yourself shortly to disappear behind the door of your room. He's always adoring how vulnerable and innocent you are, poor you, you don't even know how to make yourself feel good when you listen in secretly on those conversations; the new feeling soaking your panties and soiling them, can't help but feel so dirty :((

Taehyun's no help either, casually walking in to your room when you're clad in nothing but your lace bra and panties before bed, always sneaking in a snark comment about your choice in underclothes which makes you want to melt on the spot out of humiliation. There are times where he'll come back from his trip to the gym with sweat glistening along his forehead and collar bones- Oh.. and he's shameless about it too, openly stripping off his wife beater to toss it in the pile of dirty laundry before making his way next to you on the couch, eyes desperately searching for a reaction on your shying gaze to which he's never let down.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

A confused expression floods your face as you search for the underwear you swore you put in the tumbler to wash. What started as a drawer stacked with your garments ended up with less than half of what it was to begin with. You're utterly lost, and devastated that your favourite pair have now seemed to have gone missing and you doubt Soobin or Taehyun could've mistaken your lacy pink panties for theirs. And in a state of panic you hurriedly ask to who you thought was in the living room,

"Hey Taehyun you haven't seen my underwear or anything lying around have you? I swear I put them in to wash two days ago andnowIcan'tfi-" you complain before opening your eyes wide in shock realising you've just announced your dilemma to not only Taehyun but his shitload of friends too, "Oh my God I'm sososo sorry I didn't know your friends were over ughhh." You groan in defeat feeling your face burn in humiliation.

"Woah what the fuck Taehyun?? You never told me you were keeping a hot chick here?" A brunette gasps almost over-dramatically breaking the silence in the air, immediately combing through his hair with his calloused fingers in an attempt to impress you in even the slightest way.

"First of all Beomgyu, that's my roommate. Second of all she'd never let you hit with all that weird shit you're in to geez."

Taehyun's remark sends the room into an outburst of laughter at who you were assuming to be Beomgyu, now bickering vulgarly with a guy with faded blue box dyed hair, his features strikingly foreign and appealing to your eyes before you snap back in to reality again.

"There's nothing weird in being pegged- that Sophomore Mina from Jaehyun's party let me-"

"She wouldn't let you or Taehyun hit, the nonchalant act will never get him laid pfft. Look you've got her all flustered now," your eyes flicker to the guy who purred, manspreading in jeans a size or two too big for him, a smirk plastered across his face. He beckons you to come over with two fingers, amused at your hesitance and meek posture. He whispers temptingly in to your ear. " 'm hosting a party at Kai and I's frat next Saturday, wanna see you there at 7pm m'kay?"

You swallow and look over at Taehyun as if you were searching for consent despite not needing it, his sigh indicates you to nod obediently making the seductive man chuckle at your eagerness. His tongue glazing over his lips as he studies your skimpy pajamas with cute patterns of your favourite character. The voice notes Soobin sent were right, you were irresistible.

"Slot in your number yeah? Make sure you've got Soobin or Taehyun to bring you." he purrs once again but lower this time, his flirting only makes the cold male grimace,

"Your intentions are as clear as day you whore."

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

It's three hours before the party and you're scrambling through your closet to search for something redeemable to wear. You've never been the type to go to parties and now you're regretting your abstinence looking at the girly skirts and cardigans laid out in front of you. There's nothing sexy about your clothes which frustrates you out of your mind !! If there were anyone to save you right now it would be Chaewon and Giselle...

You: Can I come over?? Need something to wear to a party but all my clothes feel out of place yk?? :((

Chaewonnie🍓: AGHH my baby i've missed you sm come over right now, the new girl who moved in is such a bitch I'm glad she's working tongiht.

Gis<3: Stop I've been waiting for this forevrrrr omgggg come over rn I bought this new dress its gnna look so hot on you trust

Chaewonnie🍓: Wait.. isn't it Heeseungie's frat that's hosting a party today? Gosh when did you get to know him??!!

You: Heeseungie??? i got invited by one of my roommates friends.. Yeonjun... I think??

Gis<3: You're kidding.

No.

Fucking.

Way.

L/N. Y/N.

Within seconds of you arriving at the dorms Chaewon is tugging on your hair curling it in to all sorts of twists and curls and pinning it all over your head. Giselle's applying mascara over your lashes which dry out your eyes like hell, dabbing your face with her new foundation cushion and spritzing her expensive mist all over your skin. But it's worth it because looking in the mirror you're in awe at the power and skills Giselle and Chaewon have, you look hot, and you're sure your girls can see the newfound pride in you too.

Until Giselle decides to squeeze you in to a short velvet strap dress Completely bare at the back to reveal your spine and riding up the top of your thigh dangerously, low cut and flush against your chest which makes your cheeks burn just thinking about wearing something so scandalous in front of everyone.

"I don't know guys- don't you think it's too much..?" you worry, not entirely used to clothes feeling so tight yet flimsy on you, like it would come apart in seconds.

"You look hot trust u-"

Ding- Dong

The ring of the doorbell triggers Chaewon to audibly shriek and drag you along to the door before pulling the door wide open for a dressed up Taehyun to admire. You don't miss the way his huge eyes widen even more before landing on the way your dress is snug at your hips down to your thighs; there's no escape from his predatory gaze no matter how much you try to shy away and hide behind Chaewon.

" What? Don't you like it mr. nonchalant?? We've got her all dolled up for you~" Giselle winks before shoving you out the door and slamming it with a giggle leaving you to deal with the tension in the air. You can barely hear the man visibly eyeing you up and down muttering a small "fuck" before he coughs almost animatedly, gripping his fingers around your wrists so hard his knuckled bared white and in to the car park- a small tinge of red blushing the tips of your ears. There was something so rewarding seeing him break down his usually cold demeanour (which would usually be picking at you by now) to shut up and swallow down all the things he has to say, and you couldn't be more right. Fuck if Taehyun had the guts to he wouldn't waste any time rushing you in to the backseat of his porsche, slamming you against the cold windows until your skin burns from the cold before breaking off the straps of your skimpy dress. He'd go slack-jawed just watching the way his cock would be sucked in so vulgarly by your virgin cunt, juices dripping down the valley of your thighs and all over his expensive car seat, thighs quivering and clenching around the thick veins of his dick before he's slamming in to you relentlessly again, shoving two of his finger drenched in your slick in to your warm mouth to keep you quiet 'shut up will you hm? Don't want the entire dorm hearing how big of a slut you are getting off your roommates cock do you?' he'd be so mean, so turned on at you gagging 'round his fingers with fat tears stinging in the corner of your eyes. He'd be a goner the moment you let him have his way with you, he'd go insane and he knows it watching you strap in to your seatbelt tight against your chest, giving him an eager look to start the car completely unaware of the porno flashing through his head right now, he'd rather die than show up to Yeonjun's frat party already hard so he settles with driving off right away trying not to spare you any more attention than he has already.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Music blasts deafeningly as you awkwardly stumble in to the frat house with Taehyun yawning behind, your eyes scanning over for familiar faces unaware of the attention and stares you're receiving from boyfriends and hotshots, their girlfriends and Taehyun's old flings. But your lack of judgement of your environment only directs you to another familiar face; your eyes light up when you spot Soobin among the crowd, drink lazily clasped in one hand, a blunt shoved between the curve of his soft lips before passing it to Yeonjun who inhales and exhales with his head leaning back against the couch. A girl kisses seductively along his neck; nibbling against his skin until his complexion drew a deep crimson, licking along his jaw and whispering in to his ear keeping him busy.

You blush at the audacity of the act as you observe around, the heat radiating off of drunks slobbering all over and eating each other's faces, which although didn't cause anyone who wasn't making out bat an eye, was for sure making you feel as if you were intruding on something so intimate. But Soobin spots you and plasters a lazy smirk, patting down on his lap and gesturing you to come closer. He reaches out his hands in a grabbing motion to snatch you and place you on his lap before swirling his drink around and handing it to you, signalling half drunkenly to take the shot to which you study in perplexion. You rarely drink alcohol let alone do something reckless like this :(( but you down it anyway as best as you could, the bitter taste of it burns your throat but Soobin's already pouring you another shot. He's watching with glossy and reddened eyes at the way you struggle to down the drinks before moving your legs so that you were straddling him.

"Mhnnn.. you look.. really beautiful t'nite shit, you're driving me crazy bunny." He slurs, tracing his finger along your neck and over the flimsy straps of your dress down towards your chest. His thumb swirls around your nipples through the fabric as he hums, leaning down to place a small peck on the side of your neck.

It's hot and you're feeling the alcohol starting to hit your system, feeling lightheaded and calm as you nuzzle in to his touch, anything but void of shaky breaths and pants when he slips a hand up your already dangerously inviting dress to massage the fat of your thigh.

"Dressed up jus' for me hmm?.. So good for me, such a sweet girl.", he hums once more, breathing in your scent, before retracting his hands away from your thigh causing you to whine.

"Look so pretty, kept thinking...'bout it.. about you, dressing up like this when Jjun told me you were coming. Jerked off so much to your panties pretty, you didn't even know," He rambles on drunkenly half processing the vulgar confessions spouting from his face, you would've never imagined that he'd be the type to be so perverse yet you keep your mouth shut knowing his praise only dampens the wet spot building up in your panties even further. You feel dirty but you can't help the not so innocent thoughts that are clouding your mind. You've never been so intimate with anyone before let alone a guy like Soobin and can't help but feel a bit greedy when you start to rock your hips against his bulge subtlely, " Angel," he grips on your hips before taking a deep breath, " don't do that, I won't be able to resist if you do.."

"I want it Binnie, wanna feel good.. like what you said to Taehyun about what you'd do to me.." Usually you'd cringe at your outspokenness, it was a new side to you; bold, but the alcohol running through you couldn't make you care less as you continued to grind down on the growing tent in the male's sweatpants, gasping when it rubbed against the nub of your clit over and over again causing a mantra of whimpers to fall from your lips.

He wastes no time in leaning in to kiss you sloppily, groaning every time he feels the plush of your cunt rubbing against him so desperately; hands immediately holding your hips still in place because he knows he's going to cum embarrassingly fast when you're on top of him like this. He's been desperate to please you ever since you showed up in front of the apartment door, make you feel good because you can't reach all your sweet spots, corrupt you ever so lightly just to see the expressions on your face so lewd he could cum just imagining it. And now here you are panting as you lay half limp on his lap trying to get the friction you need to send you on that high, tears starting to prick at your eyes when you can't move under Soobin's grip, the uncomfortable neediness in you too overwhelming for you to bear.

"Binnie p-please, need more ngh...I just need to a-ah fuck.." you moan when his hand slithers in to the crevice of your top to grope at your tits, not hesitating to suck on the mounds of flesh lazily, spit and maroon bite marks tainting your chest as he bites ferociously. He feels dizzy, so fucking dizzy and he knows he'll regret being so harsh with you later but he can't think about anything but the throbbing pain in his dick desperate to be buried inside of you.

"You're so good bunny, keep humping my dick like that and i'll cum fuck. Want me to make you cum ? O-oh you're so hot."

You're desperately chasing your orgasm as you grind down against his hard on, moaning deliciously without a care in the world, panting and drooling out the corners of your mouth when your clit rubs against the imprint of his cock over and over again as Soobin's hands made its way to massage the flesh of your ass.

"Binnie c-can't I feel weird, n-ngh feels good please !!"

"Shitshitshit cum for me bunny, so sweet, 'm so close too"

Not long after you're shaking all over with a euphoric surge of pleasure, legs quivering on either side of soobin's thighs until your body goes limp on his broad shoulder- heaving and panting as you come down your high, the far gone man beneath you following not long after under a series of strained mewls and groans. Only to be whistled at by an awestruck Yeonjun who very obviously stares at the curve of your chest that heaves up with every tired breath, jaw dropped in shock.

"What the fuck.?! God you're freaks..damn, I'll admit I haven't seen something so hot in a while though I'll give you that," he comments, a hand grossly pointing at the hard-on straining in his pants after witnessing the whole fiasco. "Let me have a turn with that doll next time yeahhh?" he coos, a finger reaching out to turn your face towards him, batting your eyelashes dumbly as saliva drools down in-between the crevice of your tits.

Your vision flashes in and out of consciousness to even hear or process Soobin's reply before drifting off to near sleep, calm and peaceful in contrast to the explicit and sexual acts you've just meddled yourself in to, your head spinning and a wave of conscience hits you: your first orgasm was at a frat party with your roommate.

And you can sense the glare headed straight towards your direction from the corner of your eye, Taehyun- glaring right at the two of you before pushing off the girl pawing at his toned stomach and straight out of the door. You knew you were in trouble. Big time.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

tyunningism 's work !! 2025

#txt #txt fanfic #kpop #smut #kpop smut #kpop x reader #taehyun smut #soobin smut #txt fic #txt hard hours #txt smut #txt hard thoughts #tyunningism writes!!#Soobin #yeonjun #taehyun #hueningkai #beomgyu #tyunningism campus sweetheart

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rafesbuzzcutseason · 3 months ago

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wicked game

chapter 1 - welcome to kildare college

synopsis: y/n is sarah’s roommate and the embodiment of sunshine. rafe, on the other hand, is her complete opposite. when the boys place a bet that he can't win her over, rafe takes the challenge without hesitation. after all, he never backs down from a dare. the closer rafe gets to y/n, he finds himself drawn to her warmth in a way he never expected, and for the first time, he wants to be more than just the guy with a bad reputation.

but secrets don’t stay hidden for long, and when y/n finds out the truth, rafe is left to face the consequences. now, he has to prove that somewhere along the way, the bet stopped mattering, because losing her was never part of the plan.

masterlist

here it was. the day you had been counting down too for the last 6 months.

you took a deep breath, and entered the room the resident assistant had told you was yours.

the room was already half-decorated. fairy lights strung along one side, polaroids pinned to a cork board, and an expensive looking tote bag tossed on the bed.

before you could even process it all, a blonde girl spun around from where she was unpacking, eyes lighting up. “oh my god! you must be y/n!”

before you could do more than nod, the girl was pulling you into a tight hug.

“i’m sarah cameron, your official roommate and new best friend” she said, grinning.

you laughed, already liking her energy. “nice to meet you sarah. i'm y/n."

“so, tell me everything. where are you from? do you have a boyfriend? what are you studying?" she asked.

you shook your head but smiled. “well, i'm from south carolina, i do have a boyfriend, and i'm studying education as i want to work with kids!"

sarah gasped dramatically. “a boyfriend? oooh, tell me everything. long distance? is he at KC? is he hot?”

you laughed, shaking your head. “yes, no, and… yes."

sarah smiled. “that's cute. and studying to be a teacher? even cuter. you're a little ray of sunshine."

"i get told that a lot." you smiled back.

she leaned forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “okay, real talk. how do you feel about frat parties?”

you hesitated, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “uh, i mean… i’ve never really been to one.”

sarah’s jaw dropped. “never?”

you shrugged. “not really my scene, i guess.”

sarah gasped like you had just confessed to a crime. “okay, nope, we have to fix that. there’s a huge party at kappa tau tonight. it’s basically a ‘welcome back to chaos’ event. you have to come with me.”

you hesitated, nerves starting. “i don’t know-”

sarah gave you a squeeze. “come on, y/n. you don’t have to love it, but you can’t start the semester without at least going to one.” she nudged you playfully. “i promise i’ll be your personal bodyguard if the frat guys get annoying. plus i have a few friends who came here as well who you'll love.”

you sighed, already knowing you were probably going to cave. “fine. but if it’s terrible, you owe me coffee in the morning.”

sarah grinned. “deal.”

before you could respond, a loud ding! came from her phone. she glanced at the screen and groaned.

“what?” you asked.

“ugh. my brother,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “he’s already texting me about the party.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you have a brother here?”

sarah sighed dramatically, falling back onto the bed. “unfortunately.”she continued. “year above. he’s a frat guy, the frat guy. throws wild parties, and thinks he’s god’s gift to campus.” she shot you a look. “so, if he or any of his little minions try to charm you tonight, run.”

you laughed. “duly noted.”

"good. he's a pain in the ass."

a/n: first and foremost, my baby @darlingstarkey deserves every ounce of credit here possible. she is my own ray of sunshine and i can't thank her enough for how much she helps me and lets me throw all my ideas at her. i love you my cherub

secondly, first chapter AHHH scary. hope u guys are ready for this one <3

🏷️: @heartzshiftamy @hoefordrewstarkey @luvrclub @yesterdaysproblemm @leleee3 @yktayy9669 @miumiuestmoi @anacamofficial @cokewithcameron @bloodofadoll @shorttandsweett @mysticbby2009 @emmiesummers @wintercrows @drewrry @starkeyxcameron @xxbirkindoll2 @stoned-writer @drewstarkeyslover @hannieskzzz @verycherryblossomhideout @letstryagaintomorrow @jjsbbg7 @mariamadison6-blog @laniirackssss @xeneasworld @countryclubwhore @drewsphswife @mattyskies @moonywhisp3rs @starkeygirls @lmaolmaos @thereallifebambi @emeloyy @vcnillafairy @rafecameronswhoore @st8rkey @angeldiaryy @therealfairybatman

#smau #rafe cameron #obx #obxsmau #boyfriend rafe #outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #wicked game #frat boy!rafe

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teeskzagain · 4 months ago

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⁺⋆｡°✩⁺˚｡Party Favors ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊

» pairing: arrogant!sunghoon x bratty!reader

» summary: it's nearing the end of mid-term season, and sunghoon is truly on the brink of death. luckily, his roommates have a solution to help him recuperate from the treacherous week: one large ass, big ass, loud ass party. even if it may not be his scene normally , sunghoon figures there's no harm in trying it out. little did he know, from the moment he would step foot into that house, the night was going to be full of mistakes.

» genre + warnings: college au, alcohol consumption, heavy kissing + hard make outs, lots of arguments, hickies, rough sex (like rough), choking, unprotected sex (DONT DO THAT), cream pies, dirty talking, t e n s i on, mean!dom sunghoon, batty!sub reader, enemies to NO lovers, shitty depictions of sim jake and lee heeseung (don't take this seriously)

» w.c: 10.9k

» a/n: not on time, but at least it's within the hour! (no its not) still, give me some credit...

» taglist: @indigoez @jakeswifez @aanniikkaa-blog @slut4hee @heeknow @rairaiblog-blog @no1likeneo @d-dilemma @soobingf-blog @shuaxzcake @mingyuslice @heelovesmeknot @mitmit01 @hpnsfwaddict @jooniesbears-blog @notrosemary @remii830@jooniesbears-blog @pasteltheghost16 @goodforgyu @sunghoonsbigcoketip

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Entering his shared apartment, Sunghoon is quick to throw off his backpack and sling off his coat. He doesn’t even bother putting them in their designated spots, rather deciding to leave the items scattered about. Yep, he's that out of it, that he doesn’t even care for the mess just now created.

Despite having recently finished his latest mid-term exam, it's as if the burden of stress still weighs on him. His shoulders are tense, there's pressure in his head, his eyes are hanging low. Truthfully, he doesn't even remember the last time he smiled within the past week. Mid-terms were absolutely brutal this time around.

The only saving grace is the fact that it's now done. Finally. After damn near killing himself for the past week and a half; the sleepless nights, the treacherous study hours. Even if he may not have his results for some time now, he's just glad to have it over with.

“Thank, god.” He mumbles more to himself. Currently, he’s beelining straight into the kitchen and to the refrigerator.

He grabs the first water bottle seen, and waste no time screwing the cap off and gulping down sections of liquid. Because of the back to back exams, he couldn’t even find time to properly eat or drink anything, leaving him parched and fatigued. He swings his head forward to cut off the remaining water flow, a small gasp falling from his throat as well.

Little huffs continuously erupt from Sunghoon. Today must’ve worn him out even more than he realized. So much so, that he finds himself going in for another swing, downing the bottle half empty until-

“Holy shit, dude!”

Sunghoon rips the bottle away from his mouth, slightly startled from the sudden outbreak. There, standing in the kitchen, is his roommate and close friend, Sim Jake. Who from the looks of it- with his messy hair, oversized shirt/shorts combo, and titled glasses -probably either just woke up or got done boning someone.

Maybe….both?

“Did you just run a fucking marathon? Why are you drinking it like that?” Jake questions as he goes in above to reach for the cabinet. He originally came in for some snacks, only to get jumpscared by his roommate acting strange.

Realizing he must have looked crazy, Sunghoon lets out a small chuckle, “I just got done with my last exam, and now I’m exhausted.”

“Clearly...” Jake mutters. Quickly, he retrieves a couple of chip bags then closes the cubby door, “But, I hear you. I mean, you did take 19 credit hours this semester. Probably wasn’t gonna be a walk in the park when it came to the tests.”

And to that, Sunghoon could only nod in agreement. Yes, he’s fully aware how psychotic it must have been to request 19 hours this semester. But, Sunghoon has his reasons for doing so, plus he was certain he could have handled it. Now….not so much. If this amount of stress is already getting to him, he doesn’t even want to think about finals week.

Jake lets his own words linger as he’s about ready to step out of the kitchen. Before doing just that, he catches a glimpse of Sunghoon’s face, causing him to instead move in closer. Eyeing the stoic boy, Jake’s face scrunches, “Oh, god. Dude, and your eye bags are getting darker. How much sleep have you been getting?”

With a ‘tch’, Sunghoon swats the boy away and does a side step from the space invasion. He opts to leave the crammed space and book it towards the connected living room, “None, basically. I was hauling ass these past couple of weeks to prepare for mid-terms. In which, there’s no such thing as sleep.”

As he flops down on to the couch, a laborious groan leaves his chest and even that surprises Sunghoon. God, what’s wrong with him? Jake follows him into the living room as well, watching the way Sunghoon’s body stiffly sinks into the cushions.

“Jesus Christ,” Jake comments, the scene unfolding before his very eyes becoming increasingly sad. It looks as if Sunghoon has strained something in the process of….relaxing? and is now rubbing his lower back, “No wonder Y/N called you a hallowed-out machine the other day. It’s like you’re wearing down more and more by the hour.”

At the mention of your name, Sunghoon’s neck snaps up towards Jake’s vicinity. Jake, in turn, finds himself shuffling backwards slightly out of fear, “Don’t you dare speak her name in this apartment. Are you asking for a death wish?”

He and his other roommate, Heeseung, know the rules: no mentions of you ever. It irks him every single time. Coupled with the fact that Jake had brought up the insult thrown at him not too long ago by you? Yeah, maybe he did have a death wish.

Jake swiftly raises his hands in the air as a sign of surrendering, “Look, I’m just saying. You’re so rigid, your spine doesn’t even curve.” Sunghoon instinctively glances behind his shoulder, then goes to straighten his back. Well, as much as he could.

Regarding him, Jake continues, “You’ve been stressed out of your mind lately, Hoon. And now, you can’t even relax properly.”

The disgruntled boy scoffs, shifting around in his seat briefly, “Oh, fuck off…” It also didn’t help that minor sounds of his back cracking occurred.

“I’m being serious!” Throwing his arms out, Jake tries to emphasize his point by a, ‘just look at you!’ claim of evidence. Sunghoon merely jeers, opposing his statements.

Just as the conversation gained traction, out comes Lee Heeseung from his room, a bowl of finished noodles in hand as he slurps the last remaining ramen. He gets only a couple steps in when he gazes up and stops in his tracks, and with wide eyes, he darts back and forth between the always stressed out Sunghoon and a growing stressed out Jake.

He swallows his food, “What’s going on in here?”

“Oh, Hee! Great, now you can be apart of this, I need backup.” Jake’s eyes scan Heeseung’s body as he travels into the kitchen to wash his dish.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sunghoon rests two fingers on his forehead and goes in for a message, swearing he’s going to lose his mind soon. The swooshing from the running water causes Jake to shout over it.

“Our mate over here doesn’t believe that he’s lost it. You know, with his terribly designed schedule and all.”

Sliding the digits down his face, Sunghoon could only deadpan towards his roommate, “I’m going to strangle you.”

While looking back behind him, Heeseung is wrist deep into cleaning the bowl. Though, that doesn’t stop him from answering, “Oh, yeah. Sunghoon, you’ve been out of it for weeks, man!”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Sarcasm oozes from Sunghoon’s statement which only acts as more fuel for the fire Jake has created.

“And that’s the issue,” Jake counters, “You’ve been wound up for so long, it’s starting to impact you even after the fact.”

The faucet promptly gets turned off, him placing the bowl in the nearby drying rack, and soon Heeseung is strolling out of the kitchen and up to Jake. The two stand side by side each other as a small pout forms on Heeseung’s face.

“You haven’t slept in days. I know, cause I’ve heard you up past like 1 AM every single night, groaning about your tests.” It took Heeseung about a couple of days into the week to realize Sunghoon wasn’t just jerking off unusually loud, but instead was producing pained moans from his grueling study hours.

A low grumble bubbles out from Sunghoon, with him throwing harsh dagger eyes towards his roommates, “Is this some sort of impromptu intervention? What the fuck?”

“What? No-”

“Yes.” Jake butts-in before Heeseung had a chance to satiate him, “You know what, actually, yeah it is. As your best friends and amazing roommates-”

Holy god.

“-we can’t just let you work yourself dead. Then, who would help us pay for rent?”

Sunghoon stares blankly at Jake’s stupid puppy dog eyes and stupid half grin. After a quick round of silence, Heeseung then takes the time to chime in.

“On a more….sincere note,” he starts off by accentuating the sincere part, “we really are just worried for you, Hoon. Yeah, you’ve always been pretty stiff in manners, but now that’s like…been amplified.”

Jake uses the crown of his head to point towards Heeseung, signaling his consensus. He then brings his hands to his hips, his face morphing into a pondering pose. As his brain churns, the remaining boys just wait for whatever idea is brewing.

“Oh!” Like a light bulb going off in his head, Jake gets the brightest idea. One, for the record, he just knows will cure whatever academic illness Sunghoon’s been subjected to, “What you need…is a few drinks in you.”

“It’s 2 in the afternoon.” Sunghoon turns his nose upright at whatever proposition that was, only for Jake to come back with a retort.

“No..no, not right now. I mean later tonight.”

It’s after those words Heeseung perks his own head up. Ah, okay. He’s picking up what Jake’s putting down, “Ohhh, right. Jungwon did say he was gonna throw tonight.”

“Exactly, and it’s supposed to be the biggest one yet.” Jake sticks out his tongue wickedly, “You should be able to loosen up there. Cause if anything, Jungwon is gonna make sure you will.”

Sunghoon truly can’t think of any other place he would hate going to more than a party. What kind of shitty idea is that?

“No.”

Jake raises an eyebrow, “No?”

“I have to study-”

“No, you don’t!” He exclaims back at the boy sitting on the couch, “See, it’s like you’re infected. Always worrying about school, always concerned about your grades. Blah. Blah. Doesn’t it get tiring?”

Sunghoon can’t believe what he’s hearing. Of course his dumbass friend couldn’t understand the hard work and care he puts into university, when he’s too busy practically sleeping the day away. Or fucking someone, who knows, really. Hoon opens his mouth and is ready to refute the comment when Heeseung jumps in, stopping any forming sentences.

“Just think of this as a chance for you to actually enjoy yourself. You know, getting out, putting some alcohol into your system, maybe….finding another way to relieve some stress?” His eyebrows shoot upwards with a wiggle, indicating an innuendo. Jake immediately yells in delight.

“Fuck yes!” It’s as if Jake’s figured it all out. No wonder why Sunghoon’s been so cranky, “You need to find some girl and stick your dick in her. You’ve been celibate for too long.”

Sunghoon glares over to the two standing near him. One of them bears a look of plead while the other waits patiently for his answer. He doesn’t get it. His friends know he’d rather drop dead than go to some party. So, why try to convince him? Letting out a ghostly sigh, Sunghoon thinks for a bit.

“What if…that’s by choice?” Sunghoon attempts to counter argue. He brings his forearms down to his knees, resting them there.

Jake could only roll his eyes, “Oh, we know it’s by choice. Too many girls have asked us for your socials and shit.”

“They like the whole unapproachable act you do. Apparently, it’s hot.” Heeseung adds, which means it’s now Sunghoon’s turn to do a dramatic eye roll. There is no act. There is no strategy. That’s just how he is.

“You guys are crazy.” He mumbles with a light shake, though Jake doesn’t falter. Instead, he inches closer towards Sunghoon with another single attempt.

“Listen to us Hoon,” Jake starts again one final time. He is determined to get his friend to see the bigger picture, “You’re finished with your midterms, which we know for fact you killed them. At least do it as a celebration for yourself.”

Heeseung points a finger in Sunghoon’s direction, “And the weekend is coming up. You could use this party as a gateway into your much needed time away from school.”

“Plus, you’ll have us there to make sure you don’t get too bored. And wingman if you want us too.” A wink gets thrown in from Jake, and that finally cracks down Sunghoon’s hard exterior. He lets out a short laugh.

So, maybe there is some plausible truth to what he is hearing. And, if Sunghoon’s being honest, he does feel as if he has accomplished something. Is there really any harm in celebrating? Plus, it’s only for one night and he knows the host, Jungwon; if things get too crazy, he can always just leave.

“Are you considering it?” Heeseung quips, leaning in towards his friend. He truly does believe this will help resolve some of that pent up frustration.

Sunghoon blows out a harsh breath, dropping one arm as the other goes in to scratch the back of his head. He thinks it over one last time. Jesus, is he really about to go to this thing? Giving it some more thought, Sunghoon raises back up and soon flashes a tired smile in the boys’ direction.

“What the hell. Alright, fine.”

His two friends cheer proudly. Finally, an actual chance at winding down and enjoying himself. They’re happy Sunghoon made the right choice, or else he would’ve been holed up in here by himself. Which, it’s already sad enough he does that on the regular, at least now he can have somewhat of a social life. All thanks to them.

“Damn, it’s gonna be so much fun tonight.” Exclaiming, Jake knocks himself into Heeseung with a fat smile.

Heeseung laughs back, “I already know Jungwon’s gonnna be psyched to hear that Hoon’s coming. I think Jay and Sunoo said they’ll show up too. Plus Riki, maybe. Either way, it’ll be great.”

Sunghoon sits up and brushes his palms over his thighs, already feeling a mixture between excitement and nerves, “I hope it is.”

“Don’t sweat it. Jungwon’s parties are always fun. You’ll enjoy it.” Jake reassures him and Heeseung throws in his own attestant, confirming the statement.

As they all finish out their conversation, soft footsteps creak against their hard floors, causing the talking to die down. They all look over to see where the noise came from, only to find a disheveled looking girl with messy hair and an oversized T-shirt standing idly near the hallway.

Sunghoon tilts his head in confusion.

“Jake…I was getting worried,” She begins, rubbing her sleepy eyes, “Come back to bed.”

While Sunghoon and Heeseung exchange a glance with one another, Jake placates the girl with a quick, ‘Be there in a second’, then turns towards the two. He drags a lip into his mouth, which does nothing to stop the devilish smile from taking over.

“Well, duty calls.” And then he’s gone.

Heeseung takes his leave as well, returning back to his room after saying his departure to Sunghoon. Now there’s only him.

Sunghoon rethinks the events of what just happened, and although he feels some wariness beginning to creep inside of him, he also knows the feeling of elation is ever more present. Yeah, he really does see himself as being excited for tonight.

Because truly, what’s the worst that could happen?

Sunghoon feels as if his mind is on Cloud ni- no, scratch that -Cloud 20 right now.

With a sappy grin, flushed face, and hooded eyes, the boy spends his time hovering in a corner, basking in the warmness that's practically radiating off of him.

In contrast, his eyes scan around the chaotic mess of dancing bodies, crowded groups, and alcohol flowing throughout the living room of some giant ass mansion Jungwon was able to rent out. There’s colored lights bouncing off the walls, and if he didn’t know any better, they were synced with the music blasting all around.

He finds that he can’t exactly pinpoint what’s making him feel so at ease. His muscles are relaxed and not tense as usual. He rests casually against the wall. The cup in his hand had only a few sips remaining, and even that would be gone within the next 5 seconds.

Even though he usually chooses to stay indoors and rest, Sunghoon doesn’t truly understand why or how he actually found enjoyment at something so degenerating as a party-

"Hey!"

As if he's moving in slow motion, Sunghoon twists his head to see where the voice is coming from, his light smile not faltering once. Jake comes into focus, who’s sporting a similar manner as himself right now. He walks up with another red cup in grasp.

"You good, man?" He asks once standing next to Sunghoon.

Eyes glossy, Sunghoon regards his friend before whipping his head forwards to the sea of people. Sighing, he allows his head to fall back gently onto the dry wall, "I feel great. Feel so fucking good right now."

"Holy shit. See," Jake laughs a little too hard into Sunghoon's shoulder, causing both boys to stumble slightly, "Aren't you happy Heeseung and I brought you here tonight? You’re finally relaxing.”

Sunghoon could only chuckle softly at the words. Nothing truer could have been spoken. Right now, he is completely at peace and is tranquil all thanks to his persistent friends.

“So,” Jake starts as he moves to the left of Sunghoon, “Found someone worth exploring yet?”

Sunghoon laughs even more, though he knew nothing funny was really said. He didn’t know why, but everything seems more humorous. He loves it, “No. No, I haven’t been looking.”

Groaning, Jake begins to chastise his friend for acting like such a rookie, “Seriously, come on,” he jabs a finger into his temple, “You need to- to get your head…in the game. Start scoping out the scene.”

“What the fuck, man.” Sunghoon playfully darts his eyes away, the corners of his mouth staying upright.

“No, really. You gotta do it for Little Hoon.”

Sunghoon shoves Jake’s arm with a guffaw. What is he even saying right now? The two of them continue laughing and talking, the the topic of ‘Little Hoon’ becoming the forefront of their conversation, when a loud whoop followed by cheers interrupt them.

Entering through a doorway with a silver platter in hand, Heeseung emerges from god knows where, wearing a nearly identical expression to his two buddies. Even with people shouting and yelling at him, he stalks right up to them standing near the wall, and it’s at that moment Sunghoon notices the tray holding six more shots.

“It’s time, guys.” Heeseung parks right in front of them, now blocking Sunghoon’s view of the chaos. He lowers the platter so it’s waist level with everyone, “Rouuunnd three. You know the drill, Hoon.”

Since this is Heeseung’s third time bringing out the tray, of course Sunghoon knows what to do. The first time there were only three shots, second time a merely two- Heeseung had already taken his, and now this is supposed to be the final punch.

Sunghoon reaches down and picks up one of the plastic shot cups, then brings the rim to his eyes, “I think…I should’ve asked earlier. But, what’s in here?”

For a moment there’s silence. Then, instead of answering, Heeseung simply shushes at the curious boy while Jake helps guide Sunghoon’s arm down to his mouth. Once there, he grabs at a mini cup and so does Heeseung.

“Don’t ask. Just drink.” Jake directs, and it’s only then Sunghoon notices just how much thicker his accent gets when he’s inebriated.

“Here we go!” Heeseung leads first with him throwing his head back, and shortly everyone followed suit.

The first of the two shots slide down Sunghoon’s throat with no problem, but he’s still not used to the burning that arises with the liquid. After drinking the last remains in his cup, he goes back in for the final shot, in which the three of them take simultaneously.

“Oh, god.” Jake grimaces from the taste and shakes his head.

“Fuck, those hit me. Yep, I’m feeling those now.” Heeseung shuts his eyes reactively then quickly opens them, letting out a small huff.

Sunghoon feels the alcohol course down his pipe and land right in his chest. It leaves him with a tingly feeling that doesn’t leave him right away. And then, he’s coughing. Oh, wow. That one must’ve went down the wrong way.

“Whew. Alright,” Jake claps his hands together, and with a rub, he glances back and forth between his friends, “Now that we’ve gotten Sunghoon really loosened up, let’s see what’s around.”

Heeseung cheers and does a side step, the three of them now lined up against the wall.

Sunghoon takes a deep breath, yet even that simple task makes him feel strange, “If I’m- being honest. I don’t even know what I’m looking for…” Sunghoon half-shrugs while his eyelids slowly drop then widens.

Heeseung cranes his neck upwards, essentially dismissing the comment. He attempts to see over the crowd in front of him, then instantly, something catches his eye, “Oh, there’s Park Jia,” he peers back slightly towards his friend, “If you’re wanting a screamer, she’s your match.”

Both Sunghoon and Jake try to follow Heeseung’s eyeline, then quickly spot a girl downing a cup near the beer pong table.

Jake scrunches his nose, “Dude, she has a boyfriend. Of like…3 years.”

Sunghoon glances back over to Heeseung, to which he dryly chuckles, “Not my fault if she came on to me. Suho should have a better grip on her.”

“Fair.” Jake nods then scans his head once more, “How about Lee Chennie? Apparently you can make her wet in seconds, she’s that desperate.”

“But she also does those high-pitched fake porn moans. It’s so annoying whenever you’re trying to fuck her.” Heeseung sneers, obviously not a fan, “How do you feel about Kang Minhee, Hoon?”

“What about Kim Gyuri?”

“Kim Haeyun?”

“Oh, shit. She does give great head.”

“I know.”

As his friends continue to explain previous flings, ex-hookups, and horror stories, Sunghoon’s finding it rather hard to keep up. Just from their recaps, apparently they’ve gotten with nearly every single girl within a 10 meter radius, with each girl having their own unique experience. ‘This girl can do this’, ‘this girl can do that’, ’this girl has a trick with her tongue…’ Sunghoon feels his head is gonna explode with all of this new information. Instead of narrowing down his options, he feels his horizon has expanded. Now, how is he supposed to choose?

“Look, I really don’t have a preference,” He waves a hand around to try and calm the boys down. His own head is getting jumbled from listening to them, “I’ll just see if there’s anyone worth pursui….”

His eyes are trained forward as he kept speaking. He watches the crowd begin to disperse in front of him. People made their way from out of the living room, clearing up space in the once packed area. And it’s only then, when the living room is now much more barren and empty, in which he finds a sight that captivated him, causing him to trail away from his speech.

And not in a good way.

You.

Straight across from him, there you are. You’re passionately dancing with a couple of surrounding girls, a cup waving alongside in the air. You look ecstatic. A bright grin is etched onto your face, body moving along to the thumping beat. While Jake and Heeseung start up talking his ear off again, Sunghoon zeros in on your presence.

What the fuck are you doing here?

He eyes you down. You’re grinding against nothing like a fucking dog in heat, then do a quick twirl. Unintentionally, the movement causes Sunghoon to briefly drop his gaze down to your backside that sways in circles. The dress plastered onto you is short, tight, and black, so it leaves little room to the imagination. His lips quiver from disapproval. Of course you’re going around parading yourself like this. What a whore.

While working his vision back up, a loud giggle floats across the room and stabs him in his ears, courtesy of you. Instinctively, his eye twitches from the sound. It sends him back to the bittersweet laugh you had given him days prior, when you were insulting him. Murmuring behind his chair in class, calling him every name in the goddamn book, ‘an arrogant prick’, ‘a hallowed-out machine’, and other rude things. It ticked him off to no end.

Just like that, he feels his chest begin to burn once more, and this time it’s not from the alcohol. It’s the swirling anger that starts from his inside and radiates outward. Sunghoon tilts his head to the side, squinting his eyes to further look at you.

How is that you always manage to get underneath his skin? One glance in your direction and he’s already losing all rationality. You’ve always had a way of doing this to him, and he absolutely despises you for this fact.

He keeps his sight on you, now feeling his chest heave up and down. Even as the two girls you were fooling around with begin exiting to somewhere else, you keep on dancing; not a care to your name. You’re by yourself now, yet the only drive that’s keeping you in motion is the rhythm that’s blaring aloud.

Jake and Heeseung are still conversing with him, even as they keep recalling more and more girls that walk on by, a few of the girls sending flirty looks their way. Once Heeseung flirts actively back with one of them, only then did Sunghoon snap out of whatever minor trance you had him in.

Right. He should be focusing on relaxing. He should be picking out the girl that he’s going to take upstairs and fuck nice and hard tonight. He deserves at least that. He should be thinking about those kinds of things, and certainly not you. Because when it comes to you, there’s nothing to even consider besides your bratty ass attitude.

Even when trying to distract himself with his friends and their continuous talking, Sunghoon is certainly not fleeting his gaze over towards you every so often, catching glimpses of your winding curves. He knows for a fact that he shouldn’t be staring at your dress which is constantly riding up, almost as if it’s teasing him. Or….inviting him? Fuck, what the hell is he thinking right now?

He shakes his head and rips his gaze away from you, suppressing whatever feeling was creeping up inside him. This is dangerous. He’s becoming too aware of your presence.

That much is evident when he catches himself peering over to your body once more. He follows your hips down to the floor before seductively rising again, and a pang quickly surges throughout his core.

He needs to stop this now. His senses are becoming jumbled, from ideas of hooking up with a girl to you intercepting his attention. It's all leaving him a mess right now. Yet, he finds himself addicted to the risk. Inhaling deeply, he fixes his gaze back on you. This time it's permanent.

He recognizes the fact that his mind is not right. Sunghoon knows this. So why does he find himself shifting against the wall, itching to go over towards you. Why? He has no fucking clue. It has to be the alcohol coercing through him, otherwise in a sober state he’d conclude you as nothing more than a thorn in his side. But, he’s not sober. And his head, which is now flowing with thoughts that just can’t be his, is making him consider going up to you.

His brain feels hazy. Not so much scattered, but full. Full of those unwanted thoughts he would otherwise typically suppress. The kind that normally repulses Sunghoon on a daily basis, but for some reason is invading his head tonight and not wanting to leave. It’s becoming unbearable.

He doesn’t know what comes over. His legs just start moving. Even as he peels from the wall and amble forward, he really isn’t sure what’s happening. His friends shout at him, perplexed about his actions, but he’s direct in where he’s going. With one foot in front of his next, he’s running on autopilot.

It doesn’t make sense why he’s doing this. He’s certain, that with every fiber of his being, he would never allow himself to do something so horrendous had the circumstance been different. Unfortunately, this isn’t any usual scenario.

Soon, he’s standing right in front of you. Sunghoon just regards your carefree stature with glazed eyes and a burning heart, waiting.

You don’t notice your absolute enemy standing mere inches from you. Your eyes are closed as you continue grooving and flowing, the bass hitting your sternum just right. It’s not until you make a full circle, bringing your head up and around, in which you finally crack them open- revealing a scolding Sunghoon now in your vision.

You immediately recoil at the sight, shrieking from being startled, “Oh- what the fuck, Sunghoon?”

He stares at you with flared nostrils, his gaze boring down harshly into yours, “What are you doing here?”

“Huh?” You start to scowl, “What am I…? What are you doing here?”

“Oh.” Sunghoon tries to focus his blurred eyes on your expression; wide, yet confused, “Is me being here really that surprising?”

When going to refute that, you lose your balance momentarily, though you try hiding it with a quick dance move. Regaining yourself, you look back up to him. Your puzzled face has now been replaced with a snarl, “Yeah, actually it is. A hallowed-out machine with nothing better to do with his life….is actually attending a party?” You drop your face mockingly, “Who would’ve thunk it?”

Anger builds up inside of Sunghoon, proven by his eyebrows furrowing in discontentment, “Really? You’re really gonna…gonna act like this? Hasn’t even been a minute of us talking and you’re already being bitchy.”

You simply shrug your shoulders while you keep on dancing, your legs moving about. If he thought he could ruin your good time, oh, he’d be so wrong.

Spinning around, you let a few seconds pass before deciding to addres him, “Did you come alone ‘cause no one else wanted to be around you? Is that why you’re desperate for company?”

He laughs dryly, though his hard expression says otherwise. In all honesty, he isn’t completely sure why he came over here either. Was it the adrenaline rush? The fuzziness of his brain? His brewing thoughts? It wasn’t clear. One thing for sure, he would never reveal that to you.

Rather, he tightens his face as you keep gyrating in circles, “Just like how you’re desperate for attention? You were in my eyesight, and I saw you practically humping the air- thank you for that.”

A disgruntled huff trickles from your mouth. What a fucking scrooge, “Now you’re watching me? Like a fucking creep?”

“I’m sure you wanted the attention,” He makes it obvious he’s referring to your outfit, with the way his eyes casts a disgusted look downwards. He hates how it outlines each and every curve of yours, and pours out your breasts, “Which, now that I think about, doesn’t surprise me. You’ve always had to seek it out somehow.”

Despite your easy going attitude, you find Sunghoon’s words are starting to penetrate you. He always does this. Inputting his beliefs onto you, degrading you. He loves causing unnecessary problems. All. The. Time. God, you can’t stand him. You glower angrily towards the irritating boy, this time putting a halt to your dancing, “What is your problem?”

Sunghoon shifts his weight onto his other foot, crossing his arms. The action causes his muscles to bulge outwards against his short sleeves. Watching that annoyed you, so you peer eyes up. His dark hair is parted and styled, in his usual classic manner. The straight-faced expression he wears perfectly captures his stoic personality, even if his dumb, flawless features help to sculpt his perfect face. Ugh, he just irks you so bad.

“My problem?” He mulls the question over, an eyebrow slightly raising, “To be honest, everything you do pisses me off. It’s hard to pick just one.”

Holy- You think you’re going to kill him.

Abruptly, you spin on your heels- which give you an extra inch of height, and begin staggering your way towards the staircase, “I’m done.”

Sunghoon’s face contorts unpleasantly. His brain short-circuits, and for a second he doesn’t register you leaving, until he’s shaking his head to get his vision clear once again, “Where the hell are you going?”

“Away from you.” You yell over your shoulder. Having made it to the staircase, you grip the railing and start ascending upwards.

“No- no….” Sunghoon’s bunched-in face is ever more present, and this time he takes a step closer to you, “No, I’m not done with you.”

“How about you just take it up the ass.”

“Excuse me?”

You didn’t care if there was no correlation between your statement and his. Instead, you’re too concerned about having to will yourself up each and every stair, “You heard me,” you mumble the next part, “Such a fucking cunt.”

Sunghoon’s absolutely confused, because what? Even as he reels in from the shocking phrase, that doesn’t stop him from leisurely trailing you to the staircase. He still has more to say to you.

“You’re so-”

“-so what?” Cutting him off, you have a bite to your tone. You continue to work your way up the steps, and find it bothersome that you sense his presence lurking directly behind you.

Each time his mouth opens you just want to throw your hands around his throat and strangle him. However, even in your state, you knew unfortunately that wouldn’t go well at a party. Strangling someone and all…

“So fucking annoying. Seriously. I don’t know how anyone can like you.” He jeers. With him following close behind him, he has to stop himself from fully taking in the view of your round ass intruding his space. Oh, fuck him.

“Are you kidding me? I don’t know how anyone can like you.” The two of you reach the top of the staircase and fall into silence afterwards. You dart out a hand to glide against the wall, mainly using it as an aid to maneuver your way down the hall.

He follows your path through the tight area, dodging passerbyers along the way. For the most part, this floor seems to be much more secluded than downstairs. Hardly anyone resides up here. Which also means that once you both reach a bathroom at the far end of the hall- apparently that was the destination all along, you yelp in joy when realizing there would be no line.

As you scurry in, you brush a palm against the door frame then swing around to face Sunghoon who’s coming to a stop, “I’m gonna pee now. So, you can take your….entitled, arrogant, annoying ass somewhere else.”

Those words send him into a spiral. When you go to shut the door close, he’s swiftly throwing it back open, his head jutting out in perplexity, “What was that?”

You waste no time repeating yourself, “You’re an entitled, arrogant ass. That’s also dumb,” you attempt to push harder on the door, “You have a stupid, dumb face.”

“What the…you think you can just say that and leave? Are you trying to piss me off?” He doesn’t let up on the door, and so you quickly give up.

Aimlessly, you make your way over to the toilet, though you don’t sit down immediately. You’re too busy staring down Sunghoon, who’s now worked his way into the bathroom and promptly shuts the door, and locks it.

“You're not so perfect yourself, Y/N,” Sporadically, he gazes all over your body, irritation and something else seeping from within him, “You whine and complain and start problems. You've always had since high school.”

“Oh.” Mentioning the past was not a good idea. Your eyes go large as you now stare intensely at him, taking one step forward, “You wanna bring up high school? Hmm? You wanna? Fine. Let's talk about just how shitty of a person you became.”

“Here we go, again.” Sunghoon rolls his eyes into the back of his head, “That’s what you always say.”

“Because it’s true!” You throw a hand in his direction for emphasis, then without hesitation you plop down on top of the closed toilet lid, “You became friends with those two fucking idiots, and ended up as one yourself.”

Your words simmer aloud before a light chuckles leaves Sunghoon. He shuffles and places his back onto the bathroom door, while crossing his arms yet again, “That’s rich."

You narrow your eyes in his direction, "What?"

"I find it funny you think you have any room to call someone an idiot."

That takes you aback, “What?”

He tilts his head mockingly, "Did you think I forgot? How you almost flunked out our third year because your grades were so low?"

Oh, screw him. Actually, screw him. How could he bring that up? One of the worst periods of your life. Your college career was at stake and he just casually drops that as if it were nothing? Fuck, he's such a cunt.

You don't reply to him, obvious that this struck a nerve so deep. Even Sunghoon is surprised to hear you shut up for once. A chilling silence overtakes the air as you continue to sit on the toilet, sinking in your detest.

Your leg begins to bounce and instinctively, you drag your puffy lip into your mouth, gnawing gently as you begin thinking. Thinking about how to retaliate. You're lost in thought when a past memory brims to the surface of your head.

This time, you're the one to do the short laugh, "Our third year...right. Just like how Na Sohee started that rumor about you being the worst lay she's ever had," you pull your attention over towards his stance, a more apprehensive attitude overtaking him, "Yeah. When she said you were sloppy and gross. That you repulsed her.” you practically spit those words back at him, then finish off your statement, “Which for the record, I never thought of it as a rumor. I'm sure you are shitty in bed, too."

Now that cuts deeply for Sunghoon, evident by the quick inhale he does and his chest raising high. Yeah, he wasn't expecting you to say that. Sohee knew she was wrong for spreading that about him, after he didn’t want to sleep with her. It was disgusting for her to even say such a thing. And there you are, smirking back at him as his jaw clenches.

He’s quiet for a second, then uncomfortably clears his throat, “…..whatever.”

Yeah. That’s what you fucking thought. You eye Sunghoon down menacingly while he becomes visibly twitchy in how he’s constantly moving around. It makes you glad to have made him so scattered, “Yeah, embarrassing isn’t it? Having your past throw in your face…”

He waits a beat before speaking up. Sunghoon’s not blind. He gets why’re saying this. He started the conversation, meaning he can’t necessarily fault you for bringing…that up. However, he feels his pride is getting the best of him. To which, he darts his eyes away and mutters, “Alright. I hear you.”

“Sooo fucking embarrassing. Oh, are your ears turning red, Sunghoon?” You lean your torso in further to tease him, though judging by the plain look he sports, he was clearly not amused by your joke.

“Very funny,” in a deadpan tone he blinks back at you, “You can cut it out now.”

But, you don’t. No, you decide to keep going. Because if there is one thing about you, once the topic of Park Sunghoon gets brought up, you can speak on it for hours. You bring up how the rumor must’ve made him feel so insecure about himself, and how his ego definitely took damages from hearing it. You mention how he probably hasn’t gotten fucked since then, because of how much of a fucking loser he is. Poor Sunghoon.

With each passing second, and each passing insult being hurled in his direction, Sunghoon feels himself dwindling down in composure. He’s already said all of the different variations of ‘You’re right’ without actually saying those surrendering words: ‘Okay, I get it’, ‘Yeah, got it’, ‘Okay’, ‘Yeah’.

And yet, you still ramble on. Like the floodgates are open and nothing’s being done to stop it. You dish out harsher words, “No one is going to ever-”

“Y/N. Just stop talking.” His voice is raised and even slightly reverberates between the walls of the bathroom. He casts a look and regards you with bewilderment. Whatever else that was about to leave your mouth immediately stops after his interruption.

You twist your body even more, so you’re holding eye contact; your knees slightly opening and closing because for some reason you can’t seem to sit still. While you think of a retort to say back, your vision goes away from Sunghoon and focuses on the nearby details. In doing so, you miss the begrudging glance down Sunghoon gives your thighs. He spots a brief glimpse of something white alongside it.

And then, he’s retreating his gaze. He’s not going to allow himself to get distracted. Especially from you. His mind was just cleared. Yes, it took a while for those previous thoughts to fade out, but he was finally escaping them. It would be catastrophic if he permitted himself to start thinking like that once again. To view you as anything more.

You become more vocal about your animosity, which then breaks his internal thinking, “Such a fucking loser. I can’t believe someone like you could even think you had a chance with Na Sohee. With your shit personality? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

In a matter of milliseconds, Sunghoon is back to fuming. Fuck, you just never know when to shut up, “I’m telling you. Seriously, stop it.”

The hotness in his chest is slowly consuming him, and you are doing absolutely nothing to ease him.

Instead, you simply fuel his anger. You put on a fake pout as the movements from your legs gradually widen. You even feel your dress start to hike up a bit, though not a single part of you had an ounce of care, “What? You’re gonna cry? Whiny baby gonna cry? Give me a break. You’re pathetic, truly. A pathetic piece of shit who’s gonna live a shitty life because you’re just too obsessed with yourself to be an actual, functioning person. Good riddance.”

Something snaps within Sunghoon that instantly makes his eyes go dark. You’ve done it. He told you to stop. He told you. The audacity you must have to blatantly disregard and talk down on him, makes him sick. Sunghoon gave you chances to stop. You didn’t. So, can he really be blamed for what’s about happen?

Similar to earlier, he doesn’t know what comes over him. His mouth moves before even a thought registers in his mind. With his eyes narrowing in vexation, and jawline prominent, Sunghoon erects himself from resting on the door. He’s now at his full height when he says the low, simple words, “Come here.”

You didn’t understand the threat that’s laced within the warning, so unbeknownst to you, you shoot up like a rocket taking off, “Gladly.”

There isn’t much room for you to go, but you do in fact make the quick trek to stand right in front of Sunghoon, whom of which harbors a dark and still expression. Even when you challenge him in stance, you glaring upwards to meet his eyes while he stares you down, you feel nothing. You’re not scared.

“What the fuck do you want?” You mutter through your teeth. Though, he heard you perfectly clear.

“What I want….” His wild eyes dart back and forth between your gaze, making sure you were really present for what he was about to say, “Is to put my hand around your throat, and make you shut the actual fuck up.”

And your heart drops.

You register his words- his threat. Scanning his face, you become aware of your heavy breathing because now, your heart is beating ten times faster. He stares at you right back. Coldly. Not a moment of regret is present in his eyes. He meant what he said.

What’s worse? You know that. Sunghoon’s not one to bluff, so you understand the words thrown at you were nothing short of the truth. Your heart begins to beat in your ears, with the acceleration almost deafening you. Yet, for some reason, you want to call him out.

You remain silent as you take one step closer to the fuming boy, scoffing. You don’t break eye contact, not once, not even as the pit of your stomach churns deliciously at his statement. It’s sadistic, how you already know the consequence to your upcoming response. But, that doesn’t stop you from going, in barely a whisper, “Then. Do it.”

Sunghoon’s unmoving, at least initially he was. Then, in a quick turn around, his hand goes flying in the air and grips onto your neck. Five fingers, all squeezing your skin. You immediately seize your breathing and your mouth falls agape, labored breaths tumbling from your open hole.

Sunghoon watches carefully your expression, and with all of his pent up thoughts, pent up feelings, pent up stress, all of it comes spilling out this moment, not another second was wasted, and soon he’s taking your lips within his.

A kiss is what you two share, if you can even call it that. His mouth envelopes your own, but there is no tenderness. No passion. You close your eyes, and follow down the rough path he started, the kiss increasingly becoming messier and sloppier.

Even with his hand around your pretty throat, you both continue kissing, the hatred and loathing seeping out from either ends consuming you two. There are no other thoughts. None of how wrong this is. Internally, you both sense the stirring feeling of regret, however, externally- lust and desire overrides it.

Until a brick of clarity hits.

Almost as if you two simultaneously awaken, you’re breaking away from one another. Sunghoon backpedals closer to the door and you and throw yourself towards the other end of the bathroom. You’re panting and so is he.

“What the fuck was that?” You grit, eyes scattering about. Did you seriously just make out with Park Sunghoon?

Sunghoon stays quiet as he tries to gather his own thoughts. Why did he just do that?

“You came in here to ambush me, didn’t you?” Throwing out an accusation, you find the kiss messed with your head more than you realized. It leaves you dizzy, disoriented, when you try to walk forward, you trip just slightly over your own feet.

He merely grunts, running a hand through his thick hair as a distraction, “Don’t flatter yourself, Y/N. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Yeah, clearly…” You try to regain your senses, putting one foot in front of the other, when you lose your balance once more and fall into the sink. A few items resting on the counter fly off, and you instantly sigh as Sunghoon scoffs lightly, saying, ‘Great job.’

You tell him to, ‘Fuck off’, then swiftly drop to your knees. The objects are all haphazardly placed around the floor, and so while reaching to obtain them, back arching in the process, your dress begins to raise. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Sunghoon.

His attention gets drawn to those same cotton white underwear he saw earlier this night. This time, they’re cheekily cutting into the lower fat of your ass, and another surge courses throughout him. Dammit. He’s averting his gaze, yet again. Each and every time, you rile him up. How? He’s already lost his mind when he went in to kiss you, how can he trust his thoughts to not progress things further?

Before he knows it, you’re rising to your feet and placing the items back on top of the counter, just as they were. You’re mumbling quietly to yourself during the duration, but Sunghoon could pick out snippets of your words: can’t believe, how did, fucking idiot. He almost wants to tell you to learn how to mutter better, though he knew you were doing it on purpose. You just love pissing him off.

You flip around towards him and in that moment he sees part of your lip tint is smeared off to the side; and for you, you realize part of his lips has been dyed a shade darker. At the recognition, you two glance off to opposite sides of the room. Stillness engulfs the air, until eventually you speak up.

“I can’t believe you did that.” Your voice is hushed, and this time when dragging your bottom lip in- you almost recoil from how your body throbs pleasantly at the taste. The taste of Sunghoon’s spit coats your skin.

“Well, it was an accident. So, calm down.” He throws his head against the door frame, still reeling in from his actions. Even though his mouth claims one thing, his fuzzy head somewhat misses the close interaction. And for some reason, Sunghoon doesn’t mind this fact.

You still can’t help but shudder from disbelief, “You’re fucking crazy.”

“Thank you.” He accompanies the sarcasm with a half-assed eye roll. He’s really not in the mood to hear you whine or complain.

“For real,” You slowly turn to face him, “You’re insane. And drunk.”

He raises an eyebrow tiredly, now looking at you through his eyelids, “So are you.”

“That’s not the point.” You don’t really know what the point is, just not that.

“Oh, really?” He stares at you with hooded eyes as those same thoughts from earlier slowly begin to enter his mind again. The longer he keeps looking at your unkempt stature, the more he finds that same itch fixing to be scratched. By you, “Then what is it? Hmm?”

There’s a change to how he’s looking at you, no, staring at you. It’s not the same as earlier, which was lustful yet hateful. Now, you think you only see one of them. You switch your eyesight to something else, hating the warm feeling that was arising in your pit, “The point is. I would never kiss you sober. Never.”

He’s quick to add on to that, “And I would never kiss you sober.”

“Good.” You say final. Despite whatever longing your body does for Sunghoon, you allow yourself to suppress those growing emotions. It was dangerous territory anyways. Why are you even in the bathroom still? Your urge to pee has been gone for some time now, and really the close proximity is making you enact on otherwise bottled up-

A ragged sigh flows from Sunghoon’s mouth, his skin tingling from a desperation that just has to be curated. Now that he’s gotten a little bit from you, he’s needy for the full thing. He’s needing you.

“Come back here.”

Without thinking, you turn to his wispy tone and immediately the two of you lock eyes. He’s waiting for you to do as he says, him standing still with a resting gaze. The intense contact has your stomach in knots, and you feel your legs shifting in suspense.

“Hey,” you watch his tainted mouth form the sentence, and unhurriedly he does a once over at your uneven dress. He then rakes his eyes back up to your face, and tilting his head down just the slightest bit, he lets out the faintest groan, “I said come back.”

Without thinking, movement starts up in your legs as you feel yourself walk over to him. The closer you get to him, though, the faster you notice your pace increases, until you ram straight into his body and capture his mouth inside of yours. The heat and intensity all comes rushing back to you, to you both, and you hate how good this feels.

As if you two had never parted from one another, the kiss transforms quickly back into the one from earlier, the same insatiable make-out. No longer a kiss, it’s a grueling act of roughness that has you melting. You’re moving your heads in a rhythm, tilting and parting when necessary. You get into a pattern of closing in on his lips before sucking gently on his lower one, opening your lips more, then repeating. When a low buzz passes through his mouth, happy with your treatment, you want to moan right back. You think you even felt it shoot straight down to your pussy.

Sunghoon takes a few steps forward, now moving away from the door. While still entangled in you, he begins walking you back until your ass hits the adjacent wall. When he slips his tongue slightly into your mouth, the action causes you to mewl accordingly. He’s kissing you with hunger, delving deeper and deeper into your whiny mouth, as more faint groans erupt from him. His body leans harshly into yours, and his pelvis pushes even harder against your own.

You relax onto the wall and feel his weight sink down on top of you, his heavy kissing making you addicted. You feel some growth develop below you, and soon a large bulge is pressing against your naked thigh. You’re so turned on by the feeling, the fact that you got him to this point, that even you could sense the slickness from your cunt beginning to coat your fabric.

Then, he’s tearing himself away from your lips, and immediately dives down for your neck. His mouth nips and bites at your skin, quickly finding a sole spot to focus on and delivers stimulation there. You lean your head to side and give him access to the area, your face grimacing from the pleasure. You go to moan from it, when he thrusts his clothed erection against your hips. He just couldn’t help himself, his cock is throbbing so fucking bad right now.

Your hands, which were messily laced throughout his hair, leisurely begin to work their way down. The two of you move in sync, as he’s nearly humping through the wall, and your hands travel all around Sunghoon. Tiny whimpers escape your throat from and every thrust, while his sucking provides the gratification you’ve been needing all night. You feel his tongue lap at your throat, but when his mouth encloses on itself, resulting in a bite, you scream out, “Ah- shit!”

Instantly, you grip his shoulders for support, him continuing to rut rather harshly into your lower half, while his teeth grab at your throat, essentially marking you up. He rotates his head until he’s near your sternum, kissing and licking at that area. You bite your lip when an ungodly whine nearly leaves you.

You’re breathing heavy as increasingly you become lost in the sensation overtaking you. Sunghoon’s worked his way down to your breasts, sucking only the top of both. He leaves dark marks strung about as he switches back and forth between the equally soft tissues. He stuffs his mouth full, basically coating your flesh in a immense amount of wetness.

When he lifts his head up for a brief second, first to make split eye contact with you, then he’s quick to raise up his hands up and yank down that little ass dress which hardly covered your tits.

Now with easier access, the moment he takes one of your flesh within his damp mouth, you gasps sharply, “Nrgh- my god. Sunghoon, fuck, that feels good.”

He doesn’t respond, though you feel his smile against your skin. Swirling and licking all over your nipple, he knows you’re feeling good. He senses it in the way you’re squirming underneath him, hands gripping his backside. He’s becoming increasingly aware of how much this is affecting you, your shaking body has proven that for him.

He pops over to your other breast, sucking fast and harsh for this one. Your hips begin to wiggle, the euphoria starting to become too much. Fuck, how did he make you so aroused in a matter of minutes? You continue to move about from his licking, when suddenly he pulls away. Removing himself from your supple mound, though staying eye level with it, he holds his lips mere inches away from the spot of pleasure.

He only peers up to look at you through his eyelashes, “Are you going to let me fuck you? I have to know what you feel like. Need to know what you feel like.”

You spew out a mewl from his words and feel yourself clench around nothing. Just him saying that makes your body weak. When going to answer him, a blatant, 'yes', so close from toppling out, you don’t realize a sneaky finger creeping its way underwear you dress, and pushing your underwear ever so gently to the side.

With your mouth already opened, a loud groan unintentionally bellows out from your gut, all in response to Sunghoon now circling your soaked clit. His eyes still remain on you, a whine abruptly follows after your groan.

“So, are you? You’re going to let me fuck you, right?” He asks yet again. The ripples of pleasure send you into a frenzy, your hips chasing alongside his digit. His adds a second finger to his stimulation, rubbing largely around your active bud, and you feel your eyelids fluttering open and shut.

You rest your head against the wall, a low grunt emitting from you, “Fuck..fuck you. You know-” before you can speak, he presses his digits into your thick skin, causing your eyes to shut tightly and pussy to contract, “Ah! You know I’m going to say yes.”

He keeps his hand right in the spot that produces the most pleasure for you, your body now shaking from the arousal. Oh, fuck. You’ve never been turned on so quickly before- and have been this close to cumming. He’s barely touched you, and you already feel the knot in your stomach beginning to loosen.

“Yeah?” he gives your cunt a rapid shake, wiggling the pads of his fingertips back and forth at speed that must be criminal to your already sensitive clit. Then, as you're seconds away from having your fastest orgasm, he alleviates you from the torture, “Okay, let’s go.” Unplunging his fingers, he removes his hand from under your dress.

“Wha….?” Shaking your head along the wall, you’re too much in a daze to even recognize what’s happening.

One second your drowning in ecstasy, when the next, Sunghoon’s guiding you over to the bathroom sink. He pulls you in front of him, then before you can think, he proceeds to bend you over the counter, your back flattening and ass spreading.

“Good, girl,” he murmurs more to himself, absolutely loving how easy it was to put you in this position. He knew deep down this is what your slutty ass would like. Who is he to stop you from having it? “Gonna fuck you nice and hard from right here. That okay?”

You go to say something, your head slowly lifting up, yet a hand just shoves your face down against the flat surface. It's horrible that you let out a whimper in response.

He wastes no time lifting your dress the rest of the way up- it had already failed to cover half of your ass, and with his free hand he trails your plush skin, preparing himself for when he wrecks you.

The light feel gives your cheek quickly turns into a harsh slap. Your skin jiggles from the impact and you scream as a reply. Sunghoon forces himself to stop a moan from slipping out, “Fuck, I already know you’re gonna take me so well.”

He does the action once more, with you moaning aloud once again, and then he’s ready. He’s practically already pantsless, from how fast he was able to pull them off. His rock, hard cock springs out proudly as Sunghoon relishes in the freedom, finally out of restraints. He’s been untouched for too long, and so he knew he needed you bad.

“Can already feel my cock pulsing, Y/N,” little clear beads bud out from the tip of his cock, just from looking at your sexy ass. He stroking his foreskin while hitting his lip. “You’re lucky I didn’t….”

He has to rethink what he was about to say. He was about to say, ‘Cum all over you’, though, he had plans for that later on. Don’t worry, you’ll see soon.

Aligning his hard-on with your entrance, and without sparing another minute, Sunghoon inserts himself straight and far into your pussy. The moment contact was made, the two of you move forwards slightly, with your head nearly hitting the wall. His cock is lodged so deep inside of you, you swear wholeheartedly, that he’s in your stomach.

“Oh, fuck!” Your eyes go white from the feeling. With him smushing your face hard against the counter, you were left practically immobilized when goes in for another thrust. And then another. And then another.

His hips soon fell into a rocking motion, and Sunghoon has to clench his ass from almost cumming inside of you the moment he sank himself into your forgiving hole, "Holy, fuck."

You feel yourself moving along with him, and your forehead scrunches from the indulgence, your face constantly changing and morphing the faster he pumps in and out of you. Your moans become choppy, disorganized, from the quick movements, “Ah- ah- oh, god…Sung…”

As your eyelids are squeezing shut, then popping wide open when a particularly sharp buck causes you to, you begin to realize that not once did he allow you time to adjust to his length. Just from the feeling, however, you already know that he’s big; but frankly, you did not care.

No, because immediately, you’re already succumbing to the growingly fast pace he’s only offered you. The kind that has you bouncing right back against him. And it feels so, so good.

He holds true to what he said earlier; he’s really is fucking you nice and hard. He's giving you everything you would want in a hook up session. And, you hate him for this. The fact that he felt he could just have free rein over your body. The way he didn’t even let you talk unless it’s to praise him. The fact that this is Park Sunghoon, completely drilling into your leaking backside with no remorse. All of it pisses you off so much.

But, you hate that you're also loving it so much. You love the sensation that builds within your core, and how it grows more and noticeable the quicker he thrusts. The more he keeps pounding into you, the more you feel the sensation change into utter bliss. The kind of pleasure that is going to have you finishing in merely seconds.

“Fu-uck, so fucking good,” He clenches his teeth while raising his head high, his hips continuing to buck deep inside of you, “So fucking good. Yeah, take me like the good brat you are.”

Sunghoon could get lost in this feeling forever. How you velvet walls wrap tightly, perfectly, around his throbbing, bulging cock. You squeeze out just the right amount of pressure that's making him see starts. It pleases him in a way he thinks he wouldn't be able to get anywhere else; from anyone else. Even if you irritate him to no fucking end, he’s always known you're good for something, something magnificent.

“Oh, fuck me,” His body contorts in half, folding in a similar manner to yours. His mouth hangs near you ear as he lets out a low buzzing moan, which falls delicately into your brain. “Oh. S-shit. You’re gonna let me cum inside you too, right? Right?”

He hammers his dick in and out of you, and soon, you find that he’s hitting your pleasure point. Now, it's game over. You begin more rounds of shrieking, mewing, crying; all because Sunghoon somehow found exactly what ruins you. You'll be done in no time.

You whine, “Stupid. Stupid- fucking... I hate you. Hate you so-”

“Answer,” he’s now wrapping his arms around your torso, his hips slamming harshly into your flesh. You better answer soon, or else he’s going to make the decision for you.

A sob bubbles out from your lips, though not a single tear flowed. You were so consumed in your rapture, it made you nearly wail.

“F-Fine! Fine, cum inside me, Sunghoon. Please, please-” a guttural moan gets in the way of you finishing and soon you grow limp. Little moans replace whatever it was you were going to say, and you wait for your orgasm to take over at any point.

You’re so aroused, you can’t even think straight.

Sunghoon’s heard enough. Oh, he’s heard plenty, actually. The moment he heard the slightest bit of confirmation, he relaxed himself into your body with the full intentions of you filling you to the brim with his sticky, thick load.

He’s already unclenched his ass and is just waiting for him cum to shoot out of him, which happens the moment he knicks the special spot that has his cock twitching and releasing hot fluids within your walls.

“Ohh, shit,” he grabs ahold of your hips and forces you close to him, as his dick spills out basically ounces of his semen all inside your pussy. He creams inside of you.

Your eyelids vibrate for the last time, "I'm- c-cumming..."

At the feeling of his orgasm, you quickly experience your own. Your eyes roll back. Your body becomes a trembling mess. Your cunt pulses so much that it’s milking Sunghoon dry, causing his overstimulated dick to shoot out spurts of remaining liquid.

“Fuck, Y/N, fuck.” Sunghoon’s hips stutter as he slows his thrusts down. You’re babbling you’re own incoherent sayings, still experiencing the after shakes of your explosive pop.

Although Sunghoon's climax is slow decreasing, him feeling his once hard cock now softening, he doesn't remove himself immediately.

No, he keeps himself inside of you, and relaxes his tired body, now drenched in both arousal and sweat, on top of yours. Both of you need a breather. And a breather was definitely taken. Which, after a few minutes of heaving panting, turned into a round 2, with this time, Sunghoon fucking you from the front.

While you two stayed in the bathroom for much longer than intended for, trying out different positions, or simply enclosing each other's lips over their own, there’s was an unspoken agreement. A peace treaty, as one might say.

Because, one thing is for certain.

Even if you allowed Sunghoon to continuously stick his dick inside of you round after round, or even as Sunghoon let himself get off to how horny you make him. Even as you two came over and over and over, consecutively…..

Neither of you would remember this night had ever happened, by the time morning came around.

Right?

- Bonus -

Your eyes crack faintly open, the sun shining directly onto you. It acts as a natural alarm for you, which, as you begin stirring awake and slowly sitting up, that fact almost annoys you.

You sit resting on a plush, comforting top, and only after a few bounces, you're able to register that you're in your on-campus apartment, on top of your bed. Though after a few more bounces, you quickly stop because the action begins to hurt your abdomen.

"Oh, god..." Croaking, you let out a good stretch. Then lazily, you swing your legs over your mattress and soon stand up. Your bladder is for some reason screaming at you to go pee.

Even as you shuffle softly into your bathroom, part of your brain must be turned off, because you sense that you're still so out of it from last night. You have no recollection. Of. Anything. You don't even have a memory of getting home, it was bad.

Quietly, you scold yourself for even allowing you to get so inebriated. You mentally said you wouldn't do this again, yet here you are, lost for your memories. You don't remember a single event from before pregamming with your friend, Jungwon.

Screw his stupid jungle juice. That's the last time you'll ever drink that abomination.

Flicking on the light to the bathroom, you find the artificial light creating an even greater headache for you, you squinting your eyes the whole way to the toilet.

Plopping down, you finally relieve yourself your, wipe, flush the toilet, then you're on your way back towards your sink, your head staying down the whole time.

You're mid-washing your hands, with you doing a brief glance upwards, when a quick scream leaves you from what you saw staring back at you.

Red splotches are marked all along your neck, some darker than others. It travels down, you can tell that much, though the random shirt you had on covers the rest.

You lean in closer to the mirror, extending your head up to see the full extent. Oh...is that a hand print? Your eyes go wide at this, the outline becoming much more apparent the longer you stared at the marking.

Just what the actual fuck happened last night?

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